* * *

Two cycles of seasons had passed, and spring had returned once more.

Summoned to the main palace, Robellia wore a deeply displeased expression. She already knew the reason why the Emperor always summoned her when he seemed to have nothing better to do.

“I don’t like it.”

“You haven’t even looked yet.”

The Emperor’s study was filled with more than a dozen portraits. Each was of a strikingly handsome man, all of them the finest suitors the continent could offer. Princes from neighbouring kingdoms, heirs to powerful factions that extended their influence into the capital – every eligible match had been meticulously assembled, yet Robellia never so much as looked at them.

Pointing to one of the portraits, the Emperor said.

“At least take a look before you decide. Let’s see… Lord Banor. He’s already proposed to you several times, hasn’t he? His appearance is quite commendable, don’t you think?”

Robellia’s gaze landed on the brown-haired, curly-haired man in the portrait, and she immediately narrowed her eyes in disapproval.

“Father, Lord Banor doesn’t look like that at all. Apart from the colour of his hair, there’s no resemblance at all. Whoever painted this should have their brush broken so they can never paint again!”

“Ahem, well then…”

The Emperor began to examine the portraits once more. Even he had to admit that the depictions of the noble heirs were far from accurate. Each of them had clearly been commissioned by artists funded directly by their subjects, ensuring that none of the paintings showed their true likeness.

The Emperor then pointed to a portrait of a prince from a kingdom in the eastern part of the Empire. 

“What about this one? I hear their kingdom is so rich in gold that they built a whole castle out of it.” 

“I’m quite content with my own palace, Father.”

Robellia’s defiant reply made the Emperor’s face flush with frustration. The princess was already sixteen, and while marriage itself could wait, finding her a suitor could not be put off any longer.

To make matters worse, Robellia avoided social gatherings and banquets, preferring to stay in her palace and spend her days like a child, drawing and painting. Despite all her education, she showed no interest in politics or the workings of the world. It was desperate.

With a growing headache, the Emperor waved his hand dismissively. 

“Enough. If you are so unwilling to choose, then you will marry the man I choose for you.”

“Father!” 

Robellia jumped in shock. While she hadn’t expected her father to let her marry the man of her choice, she never thought he would try to force her to marry someone she didn’t want.

As would be expected of a doting father to his youngest daughter, the Emperor quickly dissipated his anger, replacing it with an exaggerated look of pity.

“Robellia, when I die and your brother inherits the throne, you’ll have to leave the palace. What will you do then? Do you really intend never to marry at all?”

Despite her father’s attempt to reason with her, Robelila’s lips remained tightly sealed.

It had been years since the Emperor had ordered her to choose a husband as soon as possible. But thanks to the princess’s persistent refusals – this one was unsuitable, that one was unattractive – several promising matches had slipped through her fingers.

The Emperor racked his brain to find out what could have displeased her so much, and suddenly the reason became clear.

“Don’t tell me, you’re still…”

He had known for a long time that Robellia had feelings for Akan Roxas. She had even admitted it once, and there had been more than a few occasions when she had been caught secretly exchanging letters with him. There was no way he didn’t know.

As the princess avoided his gaze, the emperor slammed his palm down on the desk with a loud *bang*. Robellia, sensing that the storm of his anger was about to break, hunched her neck like a frightened bird.

“Didn’t I tell you it was forbidden?”

Predictably, her father’s shout made Robellia sulk.

When the Emperor had first mentioned marriage, Robellia had naturally mentioned the name of Akan Roxas. And for the first time in her life, she’d been scolded to the point of tears. The Emperor had declared that the Roxas family, long-time opponents of the Imperial faction, were absolutely out of the question.

The Emperor sighed heavily.

“Robellia, I am not opposing the Duke of Roxas because I don’t like him. On the contrary, it’s because the Roxas family must remain independent and serve as a check on the Imperial Family that such a match cannot take place.”

The current Imperial Family and the descendants of the Old Empire were natural political enemies. This was something Robellia already knew, thanks to her education. But knowing it in her head and accepting it in her heart were two different things. Whatever the reason, if it wasn’t Akan, Robellia felt it would be better not to marry at all.

After another deep breath, the Emperor continued.

“Doesn’t the fact that they didn’t send you a proposal speak for itself?”

Her father’s words brought tears to Robellia’s eyes. It was true – while the letters between her and Akan were filled with deep affection and mutual respect, they held no promises for the future.

Was it too much to expect from a fourteen-year-old boy? Perhaps it was for the best. The thought that Akan might not feel the same way at all kept Robellia from ever broaching the subject.

The Emperor, who had been full of anger moments before, found himself helpless as the violet eyes of his young daughter filled with tears. His tone softened, no longer that of a stern ruler, but that of a gentle father.

“Robellia…”

“I hate you, Father! I really hate you!” 

Robellia burst into tears like a child, then stormed out of the office, leaving the Emperor speechless.

“Hah… what a handful.”

Suddenly finding himself hated by his daughter, the Emperor let out a sigh of defeat. He sat dazed for a while before ordering his servant to remove all the portraits from the room.

* * *

Sniffling, Robellia returned to her palace and cried for what seemed like an eternity. Madam Suther clicked her tongue in disapproval, while the maids shuffled nervously, unsure of what to do.

“Sniff… I’m not getting married. I won’t. Never… sob…”

Despite her best efforts, Robellia showed no signs of stopping. With an exasperated sigh, Madam Suther shooed the upset maids from the bedroom.

“Oh, come now, stop crying. Enough.”

Madam Suther gently dabbed at Robellia’s swollen, tear-stained face with a soft cloth, but it had little effect. The once elegant make-up she had applied earlier in the day was now completely ruined by the cascade of tears and sniffles.

Robellia, her shoulders and chest still heaving with lingering grief, opened her mouth to speak.

“Do you think…” 

“Yes, go on.”

Madam Suther encouraged gently.

“Do you think Akan doesn’t like me?” 

Robellia’s voice trembled pitifully. Madam Suther, not one to indulge the princess’s whims too often, shook her head firmly.

“Of course not.”

They had exchanged letters for four years, enough time for feelings to develop that hadn’t existed before. As Robellia often shared the contents of these letters, Madam Suther had a general idea of what was written in Akan Roxas’ letters. While they didn’t contain passionate declarations of love, they were undeniably filled with warmth and affection – true love letters in their own right.

“So… he doesn’t like me enough to marry me?” 

“Hmm…” 

It was a question that no one else could answer. Madam Suther, caught in an awkward position, hesitated, and Robellia’s big violet eyes brimmed with fresh tears rolling down her cheeks.

I must do something to calm her, Madam Suther thought in a panic. Then she suddenly blurted out.

“In the last letter!”

“Hmm?” 

“Didn’t he say he loved you in the last letter?” 

“Hmm?” 

Robellia tilted her head in confusion, as if she was hearing this for the first time. When had that ever been written in one of his letters?

“Wait… are you talking about when he wrote that I’m lovely?” 

“Yes!” 

“How is that the same as saying he loves me?” 

Robellia shouted, her voice rising in frustration. 

In her previous letter, she had confided in Akan her insecurities about her appearance. His reply had included the words Your Highness is quite lovely, but lovely and I love you had quite different meanings. 

Now even more upset, Robellia fumed, her face flushed with anger. 

“Get out!”