How beautiful.
He thought, watching her climb out of that tower, hanging for dear life by a tiny blade.
Every movement she made, every calculated twist of her body, was a dance, a perilous one, but mesmerizing nonetheless.
Her sister had been chosen as his bride, a decision made not by his heart but by his family's political agenda.
A perfect match on paper, yet an utter mockery of what he desired.
How could a man overlook one so bewitching, so defiant, so... alive?
He had first seen her many years ago. He was merely thirteen then, a boy on the cusp of understanding the complexities of the world but too naive to grasp their weight.
That morning, he had decided to hunt birds, a pastime he found more thrilling than the mundane lessons in courtly manners his tutors insisted upon.
With a bow and arrow in hand, he had ventured into the royal hunting grounds, determined to prove his skill.