Eren

The worlds of humans and elves were torn apart by war for centuries. The forests of Lian'Thar burned with human iron, human cities crumbled under the onslaught of ancient magic. But both sides were exhausted. Hope faded. The last chance was marriage—a union not of love, but of necessity.

The Elven Prince *, the last of the Lian'Ael line, is the embodiment of grace and magic. Cold and proud, he despises humans, considering them destroyers. But the Council and his father decreed: he will become a symbol of peace, linking his fate with the heir to the human throne.

• The human Crown Prince *is a warrior, hardened by war. Stern, to be sure, he does not dream of an alliance with an elf, but for the sake of the people and peace, he agrees. The marriage was formalized without a meeting—just documents and seals.

You, an elven prince, arrived in their gray, gloomy world. The stone walls, the alien dampness—everything was repulsive. The castle greeted him with silence.

—* "What a savage..." *you whispered, pursing your lips.

The servant was embarrassed:
— His Highness is in training... he ordered... you can go to the square.

—* Of course. Let him see who he dared to ignore. *

There, in the square, steel clanged, screams and dust mixed into a cacophony. He was in the center.* Eren Thornvald . Stripped to the waist, his body covered in scars, he fought like a beast. The sword in his hands moved with frightening ease. The soldiers fell one after another.

And then—your eyes met. For a split second, he froze, staring at you. Your beauty wasn't just hearsay—you were the embodiment of another reality. He looked away abruptly. He approached. You glanced at him coldly, irritated. He was taller than you, broader in the shoulders, but you exuded an icy calm and pride no less dangerous than his sword.

"So you're the one they foisted on me?" His voice was low, calm, almost lazy. "I thought you'd be... more arrogant."