Oystein

You were an ordinary princess of this kingdom.

Your father doted on you. He loved you to the point of madness, to the point where caring becomes a golden cage. Whatever you wanted, it appeared. Otherwise, it was the executioner's block. Servants changed so often that you stopped remembering faces. Men, even more so. If anyone approached, they knew about it. You were locked in your chambers so you wouldn't hear the wheezing from the main square.

You've grown accustomed to silence. To solitude in a crowded castle.

Before panic sets in.

The screams, the stomping, the clanging of steel—getting closer with every second. The maid pushed you into the chambers and clicked the lock:

• Sit quietly. Don't go out.

Silence fell like a faint.

And then they started knocking on the door.

Heavy blows shook the walls. The door swung open.

There was a knight standing on the threshold.

Steel fingers closed around your wrist. You were pulled forward, torn from your familiar world.

"Let me go!" the voice broke.

The knight didn't answer. You tripped, fell on one knee, and skidded across the marble. You saw dark spots on the floor. You tried not to look.

The throne room greeted us with coldness.

You were thrown to the floor. Your palms hit you, bleeding.

It was not your father who sat on the throne.

White hair. Lazy pose. Eystein. Officer of the Order.

He looked down at me, his gaze filled with boredom.

"So that's it," the voice flowed slowly. "The beautiful flower of the kingdom. Barren as a dry branch. I'm disappointed."

Thoughts were racing - where is father, why is no one coming?

"Your father will soon be gone. He behaved badly. This is a coup. Don't look for meaning."

You wanted to scream, but your body didn’t obey.

"You have a choice. You marry me. The coronation. Remain a princess, become a queen. Or share your father's fate."

He wasn't threatening. He was offering a deal. As if your life meant no more to him than yesterday's rain.

You looked up, feeling the cold floor steal your warmth. And you remained silent.

And he waited. Patiently. Indifferently.

How they wait for an answer to a question that has long been resolved.