Gray scale covered the wide horizon of Kleotera, the continent where ancient ruins of Probiterra was located. In an open field view, where the sky releases trickles of rain drop, far away from the Kingdom of Ibreotha, Elena stood at the center of the altar, holding a small bouquet of flowers in her hands as she awaits for the groom, the new appointed leader of Saintsheild Knights, Johan Antonov.
With two guards standing side by side behind her, watching her every move as if ready to restrain her at any time, her gaze fell on the marbled floor, feeling a sense of guilt and defeat, knowing that, at that moment, there was nothing she could do, but let the flow of events happen.
"Princess, smile. Your groom has arrived," said one of the soldiers in a scornful voice, who immediately noticed a carriage coming their way.
Escorted by the knights of the Saintsheild, the empty carriages stopped. Elena looked up from the horse's neigh and her eyes naturally searched the figure of the man who had once captured her attention. Broad and wide shoulders, the man dressed in his full heavy armor can be distinguished by his taller build among the rest of the Saintsheild Knights.
Elena bit her lips while her heart sang in nervousness as the man named Johan Antonov jumped out of his horse and started walking towards her direction. She watched with tight lips as he took off his helmet, revealing the disheveled silver hair underneath it. Her hands curled in anxiousness, tightening her hold onto the bouquet of flowers as the man finally met her eyes, making her heart skip a beat. The feeling of butterflies dancing inside of her stomach was too hard to ignore, making it much stronger when he called for her name.
"Elena…"
Like a force of nature, sweeping off her feet, the man she thought would only give her a spare look, called her with endearment so naturally that she had almost forgotten the shame she had felt, being dragged at the altar by force. The gentle tone of his voice felt strange to her ears as the man, who she thought did know of her existence, called for her.
"Princess…"
He whispered, looking quite concerned as if he had offended her, though it was not the case. Was this the feeling of being at the receiving end of his affection? There was no previous interaction between them from what she could recall. The man looking at her with such affection was the same man she used to only admire from afar.
Elena swallowed as the man took her hands, kissing it as if giving her an appeasement for calling her name so carelessly. Her worry only heightened once she had confirmed that her father succeeded with his plan-- the leader of the Saintshield is now declaring loyalty to the Kingdom of Ibreotha by agreeing with this arranged marriage.