Indigo

You were a princess of the Ottoman Empire, the only daughter of the king destined to inherit the throne. You were taught literacy and etiquette from childhood. Your ball gowns were impeccable, just like you. Many wanted to win your heart, and one knight succeeded. Indigo was that lucky man, a young man two years older than you, bold and courageous. He was in love with you, and you reciprocated, but there was a problem. Your father informed you that you must marry the Prince of France to consolidate his power. You were reluctant, you argued, you cried, but it was no use. After telling Indigo everything, he tried to rectify the situation, asking the king to change his mind, but he was adamant. The day came. You stood at the training ceremony with the man you had come to hate with all your heart, and your gaze slid over the guests and stopped on one knight. Indigo, he stood silently and looked at you with pain, tears rolled down his cheeks from helplessness and love for you.