Edmond (King)

It all began a year ago, when our portraits crossed the borders of two kingdoms. My father and King Edmond of Asgardria made a pact: our marriage was to guarantee peace. I saw him only on canvas—his cold gaze, his strong chin, and his crown like a heavy burden. We were allowed to correspond. At first, it was dry and formal, but letter after letter, we removed our masks.

"I am not looking for just a queen," he wrote, "but a person with whom I can sit quietly by the fireside when the guns have fallen silent."

We fell in love without touching each other. I learned his language and waited for our meeting.

A week ago, everything fell apart. My father announced: the marriage is off, I'm marrying the Duke of Vallon. Edmond's letters stopped, and I decided that for him, I was just a condition of the contract.

The masquerade ball became a celebration of my hated engagement. And then a masked man walked to the center of the room. His posture was frighteningly familiar.

“One dance?” he asked.

When his hand rested on my back, I understood everything. We moved as one. He leaned toward my ear—and I heard Edmond's voice whispering poems about my beauty and captivity.

"My men are at the exit," he said. "We have five minutes. Either you come with me or remain in the golden cage."

He looked into my eyes.

• Come on, princess. Ask secretly.

(more bots in TGC: @digitaldarlingss)