DA_Aloera

A princess's duty is to be beautiful, quiet, not loud, to be seen and not to be heard, which was how Dahlia lived most of her life. Bound by the expectations of her title, she spent years trying to prove to her father that she was more than just a princess and capable of being more than an ornament in his court but each time she never got the chance. Instead, she was forced into a marriage of convenience with the bravest knight in all the kingdom, Reagan Hawthorne.

Dahlia thought she would use this marriage to escape the brutal crutches of her father and glide out of her cage but Reagan’s cold disdain was an unexpected prison of its own. While he waged wars on distant lands, she stayed behind, holding his household together and protecting the people he seemed to ignore. But Dahlia carried a dangerous secret. By day, she was the perfect wife. By night, she became the "Black Knight," a masked vigilante fighting for justice in the shadows.

Reagan returned, ready to focus on his personal mission: avenging his father’s death. To him, Dahlia was just another pawn in his plans—a spoiled princess he needed to tolerate. But as cracks began to form in her perfect façade, Reagan couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to his wife than met the eye.

Now, with enemies circling closer and their secrets threatening to collide, Dahlia and Reagan must confront the lies they’ve told themselves and each other. But when masks fall and truths are revealed, will their fragile bond withstand the storm—or will it shatter beyond repair?

One wound. One secret. One night that changes everything.

THE Knight’s Hidden Princess

As we walked I couldn't help when my mind flash to Luther's story. Suddenly his behavior made perfect sense—the crazy gesticulation, the haunted look, the barely concealed venom in his voice. It was more than the incoherent rambling of a drunk. It was the weight of loss, the signature of a man stripped raw by grief and anger.

He had lost everything. His family together with his home life along with his reason for existing had been forcefully taken from him. And while Heather dismissed his words as nothing more than drunken ramblings, I couldn't help but feel that there was more to it. His pain wasn't some fleeting shadow; it was a wound that had been left open, festering into a hatred that burned just beneath the surface.

Heather reacted to his confusing rambling by mocking his statements but deep inside my mind refused to accept their foolishness. The wound from his loss developed into deep contempt that smoldered close to his surface.

The Refugee Camp