Before reading this, please be advised :

♡ This is a sweet romance (kinda), meaning there will be no smut.

♡ This will be my first book, I am not a professional writer. I write purely for fun and enjoyment.

♡ All characters, plot, etc... are all from my imagination and are under copyright.

...CHARACTERS!...

...Zevana Artois...

...A Royal Princess...

...5'3...

...Rowan Ash Varon...

..."Arthur"...

...A Royal Knight...

...5'8...

...LET'S START!...

The rain poured heavily against the windows of the Varon estate the night Rowan Ash Varon was born. Thunder growled across the dark sky, as if the heavens themselves mourned the fate awaiting the child.

Inside the chamber, a newborn's cry echoed softly.

"A healthy baby girl," the midwife whispered with a trembling smile.

Silence followed.

Then came the sharp sound of a chair scraping against the floor.

"A girl?" Rowan's father spat, disgust twisting his face.

"Are you mocking me?"

His wife, pale and weak from childbirth,

"Please... she is our daughter."

"She is not my child," he growled.

"I asked for a son. An heir, not some weak little girl."

The baby cried louder.

"No woman will ever stand above a man," he said coldly before turning away.

Tears streamed down Rowan's mother's face as she gently touched her daughter's tiny hand.

"You are precious," she whispered.

"No matter what he says."

But fate was cruel.

Only a few months later, Rowan's mother collapsed from a heart attack, leaving the infant alone in the cold halls of the estate.

From that day onward, Rowan grew up without warmth, without kindness, and only under the shadow of her father's hatred. Every mistake earned punishment, and every scar reminded her of her place.

Yet Rowan endured.

At twelve years old, bruised hands trembling behind her back, she stood before her father in the training yard. Knights sparred in the distance, their swords flashing beneath the sun. Rowan watched them with shining eyes.

"Father," she said carefully, forcing a smile despite the fear in her chest,

"I want to become a knight."

Her father looked at her as though she had uttered something laughable.

"A knight?" He burst into cruel laughter.

"You?"

Rowan swallowed hard but continued.

"I'll prove that women can be strong too."

His expression darkened instantly.

"Strength belongs to men," he snapped.

"Your purpose is to serve and bear children, and nothing more."

The words struck harder than any blade. But Rowan lowered her head and hid the fire burning behind her eyes.

Years passed.

The frightened little girl slowly disappeared, replaced by someone sharper, stronger, and filled with quiet determination. She trained in secret whenever she could, watching knights from afar, mimicking their movements with sticks when no one was watching.

And every night, she repeated the same vow to herself.

I will prove him wrong.

Then, one moonless night, Rowan finally made her choice.

She stood before a cracked mirror, scissors trembling in her hand. Long strands of chestnut hair fell to the floor one by one until only short. The reflection staring back no longer looked like the daughter her father despised.

It looked like someone new.

Silently, she stole her father's sword from the hall and saddled one of his horses. The cold wind whipped against her face as she rode toward the estate gates, never once looking back.

Freedom.

Rowan tightened her grip on the reins.

"I am no longer Rowan Ash Varon," she whispered into the night.

A determined smile crossed her face.

"I am Arthur now."

After hours of riding beneath the blazing sun, Rowan finally slowed the exhausted horse near the top of a grassy hill. The cold evening breeze brushed against her face as she climbed down, legs trembling from the endless journey.

Before her stood a castle.

Tall silver towers pierced the clouds, golden lights glowed warmly from the windows. Rowan stared silently, breath caught in her throat.

"So, this is the United Kingdom..." she murmured softly.

Her stomach twisted with hunger, and exhaustion weighed heavily on her shoulders. She had traveled for days with little food and barely any rest, yet she forced herself forward.

Then

A voice.

Soft singing drifted through the garden nearby.

Rowan froze.

The melody was gentle, almost magical, floating through the night air like a lullaby. Curious, she stepped closer through the hedges, careful not to make a sound.

But a branch snapped beneath her boot.

The singing stopped instantly.

"Who's there?" a girl's voice called out.

"Come out. I heard you."

Rowan stiffened.

Slowly, she stepped from behind the bushes.

Under the moonlight stood a young woman dressed in elegant white and crimson robes. Her long red hair shimmered like fire beneath the stars, and ruby colored eyes watched Rowan with calm curiosity rather than fear.

For a moment, Rowan forgot how to breathe.

"I..." Rowan cleared her throat, lowering her voice to sound more masculine.

"I came here to work as a knight."

"A knight?" the girl repeated, tilting her head slightly.

Rowan nodded firmly.

The girl studied her for a moment before smiling faintly.

"Very well." She turned toward the guards nearby.

"Knights, bring him to the great hall."

"Understood, Your Highness," the knights answered.

Rowan's eyes widened instantly.

Your highness?

Oh no! She's royalty!

Embarrassment burned across her face as she quickly lowered herself into a respectful bow.

"Forgive my rudeness, Your Highness."

The girl let out a soft laugh.

"You may rise," she said kindly.

"I am Zevana Artois, Princess of the United Kingdom."

Princess Zevana smiled warmly, though there was elegance in her posture that reminded Rowan she stood before someone far above her station.

Rowan straightened carefully.

"Arthur," she replied.

"That is my name, Your Highness."

The princess's crimson hair glowed beneath the moonlight like living flames. She was breathtakingly beautiful, yet there was also gentleness in her eyes, a kindness Rowan had rarely seen before.

For the first time in years, someone looked at her without hatred.

And somehow, that frightened her more than cruelty ever did.

Rowan followed the knights through the grand castle gates, trying to ignore the nervous pounding in her chest.

From that day onward, her life began to change.

Weeks passed quickly within the castle walls. Rowan trained tirelessly with the royal knights every morning until sunset. Swordsmanship, horseback combat, discipline, she forced herself to improve no matter how exhausted she became.

Her hands blistered, her muscles ached,

but she never complained. Every bruise reminded her why she came here.

To prove herself.

The other knights began to notice Arthur's determination. Though quiet and reserved, she learned quickly and fought with unusual persistence. And sometimes, from the palace balcony above, Princess Zevana would quietly watch the training grounds.

Days turned into months.

Then finally, a grand celebration arrived.

The royal ballroom glittered with golden chandeliers and silk decorations as nobles from across the kingdom gathered inside.

The Queen herself stood proudly at the center of the hall.

"Today," the Queen announced with a graceful smile,

"We celebrate the birthday of my beloved daughter, Princess Zevana Artois."

The crowd erupted into applause. Music filled the hall as nobles cheered and raised their glasses. Standing among the royal knights near the wall, Rowan watched silently. Princess Zevana stood beneath the shining lights like a star itself. And without realizing it.

Rowan smiled.

The celebration inside the castle continued long into the night, filled with music, dancing, and endless laughter from nobles dressed in jewels and silk.

But Rowan slipped away from the ballroom. The noise, the crowds, the suffocating elegance.

Outside, the cool night air wrapped around the castle gardens. Lanterns flickered softly along the stone paths while moonlight painted silver across the roses. Rowan stood quietly beneath a tree, gazing toward the stars.

"Oh?"

A familiar voice made her turn immediately.

"Your Highness." Rowan bowed respectfully.

Princess Zevana approached with graceful steps, her crimson gown flowing gently behind her. Without the overwhelming lights of the ballroom, she somehow looked softer beneath the moonlight.

"You must be Arthur," Zevana said with a faint smile.

"I remember you very well."

Rowan blinked in surprise.

"I'm honored that you remember me, Your Highness." She hesitated briefly before adding,

"And... happy birthday."

Zevana's smile widened slightly.

"Thank you."

As they walked through the garden, Zevana paused beside a bed of blooming flowers. She carefully picked a single white blossom, admiring it quietly.

"This flower is beautiful," she murmured.

For a moment, silence lingered between them. Then Zevana spoke again, though her voice sounded distant this time.

"Tell me, Arthur... is living as a normal person peaceful?"

Rowan looked at her, confused.

"I do not understand, Your Highness."

Zevana lowered her gaze toward the flower in her hands.

"Sometimes I wonder what life would be like if I weren't born a princess." A faint laugh escaped her lips, though sadness hid beneath it.

"Knowing that one day, I'll become queen... it feels heavy."

Rowan stared at her quietly.

To Rowan, royalty meant power, admiration, and respect, the very things she had spent her entire life being denied.

"Hm... we are different, Your Highness," Rowan admitted softly.

"I always wished I could become someone important. People would finally notice me."

Zevana looked up at her.

Then she laughed softly, not mockingly, but warmly.

"But I noticed you."

Rowan froze.

"You don't need the whole world to see you," Zevana continued gently.

"Just be yourself."

The words struck Rowan harder than any sword ever could. Heat rushed to her cheeks instantly.

"T-Thank you, Your Highness," she whispered, lowering her head to hide the blush spreading across her face.

For the first time in years, Rowan felt strangely nervous. And she did not understand why. After some time, Rowan excused herself from the gardens and headed toward the forest beyond the castle walls.

Hidden deep within the woods was a quiet river warmed by nearby hot springs.

The moon reflected beautifully against the flowing water as Rowan carefully set aside her sword. She sighed deeply.

"Why would a princess ask about living normally...?" she muttered to herself.

The gentle sound of water calmed her racing thoughts.

But suddenly

SPLASH

Rowan stiffened instantly.

Her eyes widened in panic.

Someone's here?!

Without hesitation, she ducked behind a large rock near the riverbank, heart pounding violently inside her chest.

OH NO! If someone sees me-

She clenched her fists anxiously.

I'll be exposed...

Carefully peeking over the rock, Rowan's breath caught.

Princess Zevana stood near the river's edge.

Her long red hair cascaded freely down her back, glowing beneath the moonlight like strands of fire. She had removed her royal shoes and dipped her feet into the water, seemingly unaware that anyone else was nearby.

Rowan blinked rapidly in disbelief.

The Princess?

What is she doing here? Shouldn't she still be at the castle?

Then...

A small stone shifted beneath Rowan's foot. Zevana immediately turned toward the sound.

"Huh?" She looked around cautiously before stepping closer.

"What was that noise?"

Rowan held her breath.

But it was too late.

Zevana rounded the rock-

-and gasped.

"A-Arthur?!"