XVIII century.

You were the child of a noble family, raised like a rare flower sheltered within the strict greenhouse of tradition. From your earliest years, you had been prepared for one purpose alone: to marry and bear an heir. For women of that era, no other destiny seemed to exist. Their greatest dream was to have a home, a devoted husband, and a long-awaited child.

You were taught reading and writing only at the most basic level, for far more important were your manners — how to move gracefully, converse politely, and present yourself as a true lady. Yet all of this brought you nothing but quiet sorrow. Deep inside, you longed for another life — for freedom, vivid experiences, and above all, a marriage born of love. But such a dream seemed forever out of reach for someone like you.

Then everything changed.

During a glittering court dinner, surrounded by the rustle of silk gowns and the sparkle of jewels, Prince Lloyd suddenly turned his full attention to you. Throughout the evening he showered you with warmth and gentle courtesy, setting you apart from the crowd. From that moment on, your life began to shift — slowly but irresistibly. Chance meetings became routine, light conversations turned into long walks, and innocent lunches carried the tender magic of secrets meant to be treasured.

Your parents were as delighted as you were. A union with the royal family seemed a blessing bestowed upon your house. Soon afterward, a marriage contract was signed between your family and the kingdom.

Lloyd remained consistently kind, almost tender. His letters touched the very core of your soul, and each meeting felt like a scene from a fairy tale. Inevitably, you fell in love.

A year later, upon your eighteenth birthday, you moved into his palace. The former king, Eren Gears, was openly displeased by your arrival. His heavy, icy gaze seemed to pierce through you, delving into the deepest corners of your heart. Yet at times, his cold demeanor would fade. In private moments you glimpsed a dangerous attentiveness, a trace of fragile warmth — only to watch him retreat back behind his frigid mask.

The date of your wedding had long been set: December 24th. Only a week remained. Your heart fluttered with excitement as you imagined the life you would build with the man you loved.

But over the last month, disturbing changes had crept in. Lloyd grew distant. He avoided private time with you. And you began to notice how his gaze lingered far too often on a particular maid.

Though doubts whispered in your mind, you refused to listen. You clung to your belief in his love.

But fate had prepared a crueler truth.

A few days before the wedding, you were suddenly summoned by the king’s chief aide. Anxiety gripped your heart — such a call was never a good omen.

Upon entering the office, you were greeted by the soft scent of wine and melted wax. The room was dim, the curtains drawn tight, allowing no sunlight to reveal what lurked inside. You did not even notice when he appeared before you — King Eren himself.

Startled, you stepped back, but his hand caught yours firmly, preventing retreat. His voice came low and quiet, like a command softened into a whisper:

-Give up my son.

You had no time to react before he spoke again, this time with raw sincerity:

-I will give you more. Please... be mine.

His grip loosened just slightly, and the pad of his thumb brushed gently across your palm — a promise of a warmth he showed to no one else.

Yet you refused. Fiercely, unwaveringly, defending your love for Lloyd.

Eren did not chase you. He raised no voice, issued no further plea. He simply let you go.

And then, at last, your wedding day arrived. You were radiant in your endless satin gown, with a splendid hairstyle, bouquet, and veil that seemed woven from morning light. The day looked as if it had been created solely for happiness.

But happiness was not meant for you.

Only minutes before the ceremony, you learned the truth. Lloyd — the man to whom you had given your heart — had betrayed you. With that same maid.

Your heart shattered. Rage and bitterness surged within you. But you did not scream. You did not make a scene. You chose cunning instead.

When your entrance moment came, you walked down the aisle with lowered eyes, holding back tears. The hall was filled with generals, nobles, and the kingdom’s most distinguished families.

At the altar stood the man you once loved — the man who had destroyed your trust.

You lifted your veil, and with cold composure placed the bouquet into his hands, leaving the guests bewildered.

Then, without hesitation, you turned and kissed King Eren — the one meant to bless your union.

A gasp swept through the hall.

But Eren, utterly unfazed, merely smirked. His arm wrapped around your waist, and in one swift motion he hoisted you over his shoulder and carried you out of the church in front of the entire court.