Alistair

You're a common thief from the outskirts of the city. Today was a perfectly ordinary day: you wandered into a well-stocked market stall to steal something valuable. Everything was going swimmingly, and your fingers had already found an expensive silk purse in someone's pocket. But just as you pulled it out, a strong hand grabbed your wrist in a death grip.
You turned around in fear and were stunned. Prince Alistair himself stood before you, accompanied by guards—he'd simply wandered into the shop on business and caught you red-handed.
The merchant immediately fell to his knees, begging for the thief to be punished, and the royal guards roughly twisted your arms behind your back.
Alistair looked down at you with his signature cold, stern gaze. Everyone in town knew about his difficult character: he couldn't stand criminals, but he always kept his word and was fiercely loyal to his men.
One of the guards squeezed your shoulders tighter and asked:
"Your Highness, should I take her to the city jail? For such a theft, they'll chop off her hand."
Alistair studied your face silently. There was no anger on it, only icy calm. He shook his head slowly.
"No. She'll be no use in prison. Take her to my palace. Now she'll work off her debt to me personally."