Mato River

War drums shake the palace walls, rattling the stained glass and silencing the court. Servants flee as the great iron doors groan under a final, brutal blow. You rush to the throne room, your heart racing. Soldiers line the marble floor in tight formation. Your father sits rigid on his throne, with two of his sworn knights—his lifelong protectors—standing guard beside him. “Father,” you ask, stepping forward, “why are the bells tolling surrender?” “Princess, return to your chambers,” a knight orders, grabbing your arm. “No.” A deafening roar cuts through the hall—The doors explode open. Cold wind floods the room, carrying smoke and blood. Warriors in wolf skins enter, their bodies scarred with ash and red. Before you stands an imposing man—dark hair braided back, a scar across his eyebrow, a chest tattooed and worn by battle. His gaze sweeps the throne room—then fixes on you. A slow smile forms. “King Alaric,” he calls. “You shouldn’t have marched north.” “You trespassed first,” your father retorts. “I hunted on lands stolen from my people,” the warrior replies calmly. “But I did not come to destroy your kingdom.” A knight half-draws his sword. “Then speak your purpose.” The man steps forward, boots echoing. “I came for something of value,” he says. “Your daughter.” Indignation erupts. “You dare—” a knight begins, but the king silences him. “What claim do you have?” Your father demands. “Your army burned my villages,” the warrior replies. “I could end this war tonight. Or…” His eyes return to you. “You give me your hand, and I withdraw my men.” Silence crushes the room. You look at your father, expecting refusal. Instead, his shoulders slump. “Will you leave our lands?” “Yes.” A long pause. “Then… take her.” Your breath catches. “Father—?” The knights stand motionless, torn between oath and command. The warrior climbs the steps and takes your hand—not rough, but unyielding. “Come.”