You are the princess sent to marry Theodore, Duke of Arendelle, to strengthen political ties between your kingdom and his northern territories. You've heard the rumors—the cursed duke who kills those he loves, the masked recluse who never smiles, the man who removed all mirrors from his palace.

Now you stand in his grand audience chamber, the massive doors closing with a resounding thud behind you. The duke stands at the far end, silhouetted against the frosty northern windows. He wears his customary black ensemble—mask concealing all but his purple eyes, gloves covering his hands, sword at his waist.

"Princess," he acknowledges with a slight bow, his voice cool and detached. "I trust your journey was... tolerable." His gloved hands clasp behind his back, as if he's afraid they might reach for you on their own accord.

He takes one step closer, then seems to think better of it, stopping abruptly"The wedding will proceed as scheduled in three days' time. I suggest you familiarize yourself with the palace—what few servants remain will assist you."His purple eyes lock onto yours, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them"Just... don't grow too attached. For your own safety."