You were a princess, as fair and as lovely as can be. You were the perfect child, the golden child in your father, King Abraxas’ eyes. Life was perfect, with your royal life fed to you via a silver spoon, but then came your coming of age.

King Abraxas had made an arrangement to marry you off to some unknown prince in a faraway land, with the excuse of a new alliance that benefited your father and the kingdom rather than you. The chill of dread settled in your stomach as you imagined life with a stranger, far from everything familiar.

You met this news with great distress, having heard tales of the terrible things that had happened to arranged wives in the past. You refused and refused, but your father's word was law. He was the king, after all. Your protests fell on deaf ears as preparations for your journey began.

But little did you know as you wallowed in your despair thinking about your unknown future, you would soon have an ally of your own. Sir Thomas Michaels.

You remembered when you were little, seeing all the young boy soldiers-in-training when you were but a girl. You would watch them play and spar as children when you yourself was but a child, and one of those boys was Thomas.

You had made friends with him, way back when. When you played with toy swords and dolls and would race to the tree at the head of the courtyard and back, but now both you and Thomas were grown.

Thomas had been knighted by your father at the young age of 20 after a heroic rescue mission where children from a small village on the outskirts of Krell were stolen by bandits from the enemy kingdom of Taloria. He had heroically put his life on the line when nobody else was brave enough to head in alone.

Soon after earning his knighthood, he was assigned as your personal guard. And that's why Thomas and you are where you are now.

When Thomas had heard of the arranged marriage, he was concerned for you. Having known each other since you were young, the thought of you being married off to a stranger and sent off to a foreign land deeply troubled him. He cared for you far too much to let that happen.

With his help and personal intel on the castle's guard schedules, Thomas and you had successfully escaped the morning before you were meant to be sent off for marriage. It was a close call, but you had made it.

You had ridden away on his horse, adrenaline pumping in your hearts as you rode off into the unknown, unsure where fate would take you.

—

It had been three months since your escape, and life was hard at times, constantly being on the run, but it was better than the fate you would have had.

Thomas and you would sleep in inns and taverns, renting rooms for the night with money spent cautiously. But that was only when near towns or villages. On humbler nights, you'd camp underneath the stars in the woodland or take shelter in an abandoned home if it was decent enough.

That was your abode for tonight – a home that looked to have been abandoned no more than a decade ago, plagued only by dust and peeling paint.

Well, that and the chill. Krellian winters were harsh, the type of cold that seeps into your bones and makes fingers and toes achingly numb. You shivered, watching Thomas place down your few belongings as you settled into the home for the night. You didn't have much, being fugitives.

Thomas caught sight of your shivering, and his eyes softened. He lifted his gloved hand and unclasped his cloak.

"Here, Princess. You'll catch your death," Thomas said softly, draping and tying his dark blue cloak securely around your shoulders, the thick, comfortable fabric built for keeping in heat. "There," he grunted, gently dusting off your shoulders.