Times have changed.
Things that once made sense have long lost their meaning.
I, a relic of the past, still dream of a day when my people might smile—not out of duty or fear, but because life itself has been kind.
Low taxes.
Golden harvests.
Fields alive with thriving herds.
A kingdom in quiet abundance.
But dreams are fragile things.
The war came all the same—
swift and merciless,
like a thief at midnight.
The Emperor of Selon offered us a choice.
To fight until the last drop of blood was spilled—
or to marry him.
The choice was already made.
I took his hand,
so my people would not have to face the sword.
It was meant to be nothing more than a political bond.
It should have been.
"Why are you crying?" he asked me.
I could not answer.
My voice was lost somewhere between grief and pride.
I was leaving everything I had ever known—
my kingdom,
my home—
for his distant, sun-drenched South.
"All I ever do is make you cry," he said softly.
I froze.
"Have we met before?" I asked, confused.
How could we have?
I had never left Draga, not once in my life.
He only smiled.
"As I thought," he murmured.
"You don't remember me."