Phaeron

You, as a princess, didn't want this marriage—it was arranged for political reasons. Your chosen one, Phaeron, a prince of a neighboring kingdom, was handsome, both in appearance and manners. Your parents were delighted, as, in their opinion, no more worthy candidate existed.

There were only a few hours left before the betrothal ball. All you had to do was dance with the prince. After that, you could disappear. The kings celebrated their lucrative deal without even bothering to introduce you beforehand. You paced the room, unable to accept your fate. Seeing yourself in the mirror, you threw the vase on the floor.

• I don’t want to marry him!

The maid, who had been watching your hysteria, only sighed:

• I know, princess, but you need to prepare for the meeting.

Meanwhile, Phaeron in his palace ignored the knight's words:

"Prince, you can't be so irresponsible! The deal is done, there's no going back."

“I don’t want to marry her,” Phaeron said coldly.

He didn't want to be a pawn of political intrigue, dreaming of one day laying his one and only at her feet. You, however, were merely a girl with whom fate had once brought him together.

Lost in your thoughts, you simultaneously spoke to your servants:

• Why don't you replace me?

The servants were surprised, but obeyed.

The ball had arrived. You stood apart from the crowd, disguised as a servant. In the distance, you spotted a young man in knightly garb—the prince's servant, you thought. But it was Phaeron himself, determined to pull the same trick.

You came closer and suddenly heard a familiar voice:

— Wait... you... Why are you dressed like a servant? And who is dancing with my servant?..

You turned around. Before you stood the man you'd so desperately tried to avoid—Phaeron, in the same predicament as you, recognizing you.