In a land situated in the western region, there existed a kingdom whose name I would rather not reveal just yet.
It was a vibrant realm where birds sang sweet melodies at dawn and trees blossomed with flowers of every hue. Though the fairies had gone into hiding, whispering of a shadow that loomed beyond the mountains, the air still shimmered with quiet magic.
The people were joyful. Their laughter filled the streets, and their smiles brightened even the dullest corners of the town. To any wandering traveler, it was a kingdom blessed by peace.
At the heart of this land stood a magnificent castle of ivory stone and silver towers.
Within its grand halls lived the royal family,an aging king whose strength was slowly fading, and a queen whose spirit was as steadfast as the mountains themselves. They had four children: one son and three daughters.
The prince, Flynn, was admired for his striking features and keen mind, but he was equally known for his stubborn heart.
His sisters were as different as the seasons.
Princess Freya, his twin, mirrored much of his appearance and cleverness, stubbornness, but she carried herself with calm determination.
Princess Floria possessed a gentle spirit that soothed even the most troubled minds.
Princess Frances, the youngest, was quick-witted and bold, often speaking truths that others feared to voice.
Yet despite the warmth of the family, a shadow hung over the palace.
The king's health was failing. Some days he could barely rise from his carved oak chair. Other days he stared long at the crown resting beside him, as though measuring the time he had left.
And there was a law — ancient and unyielding.
The prince could not ascend the throne unless he was married.
Without a queen beside him, the crown could not pass.
The kingdom could not risk instability.
The queen knew this.
And so she urged him, again and again.
"You must choose a bride," she said softly at first, then with more insistence. "Your father does not have forever."
But Flynn's jaw tightened. "I will not marry for tradition," he said one evening, rising from the royal table. "I will not bind my life to someone I do not love."
The queen's eyes softened, but her voice remained firm. "A crown is not a choice, Flynn. It is a duty."
Yet Flynn believed something different.
A crown may come with duty.
A heart comes with choice.
And he would not surrender his.
That evening, while the palace slept and the corridors lay quiet, Flynn stood alone in his chamber.
He gazed at the royal coat folded neatly on the chair.
At the polished boots beneath it.
At the life that had been chosen for him.
His father's cough echoed faintly from the hall.
The weight of expectation pressed down like stone.
For the first time, the palace felt like a cage.
So he did something daring.
He removed the coat.
Left the boots.
And slipped quietly beyond the castle gates, beyond the watchful eyes, beyond the throne.
The moonlight guided him across the quiet streets until he reached the small cottage where his childhood friend lived.
Without knocking, he pushed open the door and stepped into the music room.
Julian's voice floated through the air — smooth and warm, like honey dripping over the strings of a lute. Birds had gathered near the open window, chirping softly as if harmonizing with him.
"Hey," Flynn said softly, leaning against the doorway. "What's with the sad song?"
Julian looked up, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Just trying to match your mood," he replied lightly.
"You look like you've lost your last marble," he teased,
Sinking onto the couch and running his hands through his hair. "I just had a fight with my mother. She keeps insisting I must marry."Flynn said.
Julian's expression softened. "Then let's go for a stroll. Fresh air might help."
"Yeah… I'm in," Flynn sighed.
The two friends walked through the bustling marketplace, filled with merchants calling out their prices and the scent of fresh bread and spices in the air. Flynn let his gaze wander, trying to forget the palace walls.
And then he saw her.
A girl with long, dark hair, standing by a stall and arranging baskets with careful hands. Her eyes flashed with determination as she spoke sharply to a vendor.
Flynn stepped forward gently. "Hi," he said, offering a polite smile. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I couldn't help noticing you seemed upset. My name is Flynn."
The girl turned, her eyes narrowing slightly. "I'm fine, thanks," she said, brushing dust from her skirt. "I am Elizabeth, though some call me Lizzy. Now, what do you want?"
Flynn hesitated. "I… I only wanted to help."
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "Help? From a stranger who looks far too polished to buy fruit?"
He smiled nervously. "I am not here to cause trouble. I just thought—"
"You thought wrong," she interrupted, her voice calm but firm. " I don't need anyone showing off at my stall."
Flynn chuckled softly. "You are… direct."
Elizabeth shrugged. "Truth is free. And I charge for lies."
He laughed, then noticed her attention flick to something else — something shiny on his wrist.
The silver bracelet glimmered in the sunlight, etched with the royal crest.
Her jaw tightened.
Her basket paused mid-lift.
"You…" she said softly, her voice sharp now. "You are… from the palace."
She did not wait.
"I do not deal with palace problems," Elizabeth said, her tone final.
And before he could speak again, she spun on her heel and ran.
Through the crowd, between the stalls. Gone.
Flynn stood there, stunned.
Julian leaned quietly in the background, smiling faintly.
"She… ran," Flynn murmured.
"That is one way to make an exit," Julian said, stepping closer. "I have never seen anyone vanish so quickly."
"I… I do not understand," Flynn said, frowning. "She just… ran. Why?"
Julian shrugged. "Who knows? Perhaps she does not like strangers… or perhaps she is simply faster than you."
Flynn shook his head. "No, it is more than that. She did not just run, she looked… afraid."
"Afraid?" Julian raised an eyebrow. "Of you?"
"No!" Flynn said quickly, then softened.
"At least, I do not think so. She ran the moment she saw this."
He lifted his wrist, showing the silver bracelet.
Julian whistled softly. "Ah… so she did not run from you. She ran because of… that."
Flynn frowned. "But why? People usually adore the royals."
"Exactly," Julian said, tilting his head.
"And that is what makes her so fascinating. Whoever she is, she does not seem impressed. Most would have bowed, smiled, or at least curtsied. She ran instead."
Flynn let out a small laugh, incredulous.
"Ran. Just… ran. Gone in a blink."
Julian nodded. "She has set a standard for how mysterious someone can be. And somehow, I already wish to know more."
Flynn looked again at the bracelet. It gleamed in the fading sunlight.
For the first time, he realized… the crown might hold more surprises than he had ever imagined.