Paper balls and scraps filled the luxurious room, where only a lonely charcoal brazier and a candle shed light on the young girl writing on the rosewood desk.

"This isn't going anywhere". She complained to the walls of the bedroom as she rested her head on the desktop. She was finally engaged to be wed but wasn't able to wright a single phrase of a letter. What to write? What to ask? What was his favourite things? What does he hate? As she was lost in her wonder, she heard the footsteps of maid that came to check if she had kicked her away her blankets.

"Princess, what are you doing up so late?" Asked the voice out the door.

'Opps! Got caught!'

Ania's purple eye glimmer with smarts as she blew the candlelight and ran barefooted across the dark room, dive into be bed and under the blankets.

'No evidence no way to persecute a crime' she laugh softly pretending to sleep.

As the seventh and youngest princess of the kingdom Argonne who just turned fifteen, she clear of the need to be engage to marry. Her father with no heir old enough to rule and had chosen to make the most of her marriage. Her fiancé Alexander Nightingale was the adoptive son of High Duke Nightingale an aristocrat with a big voice in the parliament and a noble in his own right. He met all of the requirements and had in turn agreed to marry as soon as she became of marriageable age. However, in accordance to this times fashion, he was off to a boarding school and the two parted without having met once.

'What is the colour of his hair? How long is his nose? How deep is his voice?' she wondered. Even though worry and hope intermingled, she had never been the sentimental type, so up until now she had never once made a move to initiate contact. After all she knew that as a royal she wouldn't choose so it didn't matter.

The cold air caressed her feet and she tremble a little and crawl deeper into the thick blanket. The capital winter was really cold, was his stay in the north colder?

After this winter was over next spring, they would marry.

'Not too much time… I should really finish writing that letter'. With that thought casting roots in her mind her eyes started to weight and she fell into a deep sleep.

________________________

"Hey, Drite!"

In the messy diner hall of Argonne's First Man Boarding School, Alexandre was holding a textbook reading and laughing with his friends in his free time when he was called by his nickname. In his colleague's hands were a pile of papers and miscellaneous parcels that almost screamed post duty.

Had something come for him? He raised an eyebrow wondering what was this about. No idea which acquaintance would go to the effort of sending a letter, his adopted father was traveling and he didn't have any close family. His eyes widened at the sender's name. He had almost dally heard the owner's father name, especially, when he lived in the capital, and sometimes talked to his adoptive father about this name but this was the first time he seen it written.

"Ania von Vivouare". He read aloud the name that was lively in his memories and under astonish eyes open the envelope to a rain of pumpkin seeds like warping.

"Jellybeans!" Over the shock from gluttony the college students were overjoyed to eat a capital's traditional pumpkin harvest snacks, after all as hard to admit it was, everyone was a little homesick.

There was more than enough for everyone and they knew the recipient dislike of it. However, to their surprise when their hands reached for that rare treasure, they were mercilessly striked.

"Not yours!"

After the half-hearted fistfight and a little mockery, Alexander was somehow able to laugh off his friends and return to the safety of his dormitory with his loot.

He lit a candle and his hands trembling hands opened the folded note.

-As much as I would like to say, for now I'll say that I'm looking forward to meeting you.–

Nineteen words no more. That was the entire content of the letter.

Drite had spent more than half of his childhood in an orphanage. Without any possession to his name, from there, he crawled his way up, he learned from anyone who was amiable to, in whatever they were willing to teach. His ability was what later convinced Duke Nightingale, that was without a hire, to adopt him. Having the topic of marriage been brought up by his adopted father, who he was greatly indebt to, and with his best interests in mind, he had thought he didn't particularly mind.

If you asked of his misgivings, he did have them. Especially the worry that his fiancé would look down on him for his humble birth. Now it seems she just hadn't know the words to address him. The receiving this correspondence change his thoughts.

In the empty dorm room, he smiled as he ate jellybeans.

________________________

After taking the measurement of her wedding dress, hearing about the proprieties of flowers, etiquette courses and housing managing classes Ania was exhausted. She didn't like cold but she had been out and about all day in the spire of winter. Could she get cold feet about marrying?

Curled on top of her bed she was making her best effort to ignore the maid that just walked in and only opened her eyes after hearing the door closing once again. Lifting her head her eyesight fell in the silver tray on the desk and the envelops sitting on top of it.

Some were from friends, some from family but one of them her was written in clean and elaborated handwriting, one she wasn't familiar with. Her heard beat loudly as she looked for the paper knife to opened the letter It was quiet thick.

-Dear Ania,

I sincerely apologize for my late reply. It seems the words avoided me for far too long whenever I tried to start writhing.

Thank you, for the letter and pumpkin harvest jellybeans. Truly, sweets had always been a problem of mine, in the orphanage they used to remind me of what I was missing and later I could not bring myself to eat them under the risk of an upset stomach. As you can imagine, quite a strange sight I presented to my colleges when I jumped into a fistfight kept this to myself.

I believe you been informed I have no biological family. Sickness gave my parents an early grave and although the Duke is forever kind, I miss having one to call my own. Quite mysterious, this feeling. Imagine, once winter is over, what awaits me is a home and a family at last. I wonder what sort of woman you are, what are your likes and dislikes? It gives me great pleasure to imagine our meeting.

Along this letter, I have enclosed a present, which I hope you will humour me by wearing to our first meeting. It is by no means expensive, but I will admit to have chosen with second intentions in mind.

I look forward to the day we meet.

Yours truly,

Alexander.-

Ania read the letter again and again. Maybe a thousand times. He looked forward to meeting, to becoming family. How to describe these feelings of shared happiness? Can one make it forever last?

She tiled the envelope and it jangled lightly as a necklace and earrings slipped into her palm. In Every one of them beautifully adorned by purple Alexandrite stones.

She could not help but laugh. As she hoped for spring to come sooner, the most beautiful smile curved her lips.