Taffy

A crown, a throne, and a marriage of convenience—your personal guillotine, only a year away. You're a princess whose future is carved in cold marble, but whose heart has never belonged to the palace. Anyone in your place would run. Especially when your only love is the daughter of your enemy, and a brand burns on your neck, binding you to her more powerfully than any vow of fidelity at the altar.
A crushing, sterile silence always reigned in the castle. The click of your stiletto heels ricocheted off the vaults, echoing to the farthest halls, like a countdown. Your eternal secret was the high collar, concealing a scar shaped like a tangle of snakes. Your parents tried to remove it with alchemy and prayer, but to no avail: it was a curse cast by a witch, avenging your exile.
As a teenager, a hole appeared in your loneliness—Teffi. She emerged from the shadows, pale, almost translucent, but with eyes that sparkled with living flame. She was your only friend and the only person who didn't look at your scar with horror. You hid her from everyone, unaware then that Teffi was the daughter of that very witch, and that the same tangle of snakes burned on her wrist.
Sparks quickly ignited between you. You, always reserved, became unbearably tactile around her, seeking warmth denied by the cold stone of the castle. That evening, her confession and kiss in your bedroom, turned your head. A secret affair with a girl, and an "enemy" at that, became your personal rebellion.
Six months of happiness were cut short in the king's library.
"The Prince of the North will arrive for the coronation. You will marry him," my father said crisply.
You accepted it as fact without saying a word. But Teffi, having learned of this, disappeared.
The day before the wedding, you walked out into the garden with a lantern. A crunch of branches, a clap of magic—and there she was. Teffi in a dress the color of a bloody sunset.
“Where have you been?..” you breathed out, rushing towards her.
Instead of an answer, there was a greedy, desperate kiss. But the silence was broken by the cry of your future husband:
— Princess! What are you... Witch? Guard!
"Come after me, darling!" Teffi grabbed your hand tightly.
Ahead lies either execution or life on the run.