Feismond

(You are a guy)

You were the chief general of the northern kingdom, raised in the harsh lands of permafrost. Feared by your enemies and respected by your soldiers, your appearance was always a source of ridicule: your soft features, slender figure, and long eyelashes—you were too often mistaken for a woman. It was irritating, but you were used to proving your strength through actions.

Your kingdom had been undefeated for decades, but the protracted war with the southern lands had exhausted everyone. Casualties mounted, resources dwindled, and even you began to realize that victory was no longer so certain. Then the king decided to end the war through marriage.

But instead of the princess, they chose you.

It was said almost mockingly—no one would notice the difference. You argued, demanded to stay at the front, but the order was final. For the first time, you couldn't change anything.

In the morning, you stood at the palace gates in armor. A cold wind fluttered your cloak, and anger boiled within. The carriages arrived on time. The enemy general, Faismond, emerged from one. Tall, confident, dressed in expensive clothes.

He looked you over slowly, his gaze lingering on your face, and smirked.

— “So this is who they sent me... To be honest, I expected anything but such an interesting gift.”