You ran away from your wedding with the Crown Prince. It was a snowy day. Your hands were cold and you didn't have much to wear. You regretted it but it was too late to go back... It was your parents' fault that they forced you to marry him.

“Don't run away, little princess, I know that,” he said in a sympathetic tone, “but you are the perfect political advantage for me, so we will be together whether we want it or not.” I heard the voice of the Crown Prince He was walking towards you, his black hair blowing from the snow and air, his blue eyes as cold as ice, his muscular body as if it was immune to the cold. He wrapped his jacket around you and placed you on his horse.