King Baldwin Blaine, Emperor of the North, was one of the most feared and respected swordsmen in the entire world.
Born into the royal bloodline of Melsaure, blessed with ancient magic and the gift of the sword, Baldwin's fate had been sealed before he could even walk.
At the tender age of twelve, the boy who had barely learned to shave his face had inherited the crown. His father, a mighty king, had succumbed to illness — leaving Baldwin with nothing but a heavy crown and an empire on the brink of collapse.
His mother?
She had fled — fled the moment sickness threatened to stain their palace, running away with her lover and leaving Baldwin and his young sister abandoned. Betrayed by blood, mocked by the court, Baldwin had been forced to raise not just himself but an entire nation from its knees.
They had called him a child king. A frail puppet.
But Baldwin fought — with sword and wit and raw, unyielding pride.
At sixteen, he led armies.
At eighteen, he crushed rebellions.
At twenty, he was a legend.
He had faced down warlords, assassins, traitorous nobles... yet somehow, none of them had irritated him quite like this girl.
Baldwin stared down at the young woman standing before him, blinking slowly as if trying to process what he had just heard.
"Excuse me," he said, voice cool and even. "Did you just say... marry you?"
The girl nodded — once, sharply, her silver hair catching the sunlight like threads of moonlight.
"Yes, I did," she said, her tone unshakably serious. "Will you marry me?"
For a moment, Baldwin simply stared at her.
He was known for his composure, but even the great Emperor of the North had his limits.
"Miss," he began, exhaling slowly through his nose, "I am sorry, but you have no idea who I am. And frankly, I am not interested in marrying you."
The girl — October — did not flinch.
Instead, she tilted her chin up stubbornly, her light grey eyes gleaming with determination.
"But I want to marry you," she said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "I'm from a very rich family. You wouldn't have to worry about anything. I can support you."
There was a sharp, stunned silence.
Then Baldwin, in a rare break of his iron demeanor, let out a short, humorless laugh.
"Do I look like a gold-digger to you?" he asked, brow arching.
October flushed, fidgeting with the lace of her sleeve. "N-No! I just wanted you to know. So you wouldn't think I'm from a poor family or... or something."
Baldwin pinched the bridge of his nose. Somewhere deep in his soul, a headache was beginning to form.
He had fought entire wars with less trouble than this conversation.
Before he could decide how best to extract himself, two of his knights approached — cloaked figures in dark armor, ever-watchful.
"Sir," said the first knight, bowing low. "Do you need assistance?"
Baldwin waved a hand sharply. "No. We're leaving."
He moved to step away, but something tugged at his coat.
Baldwin looked down.
October clung to the hem of his coat, gazing up at him with wide, pleading eyes — like a lost rabbit. Her expression was so heartbreakingly earnest that even his knights hesitated, unsure whether to intervene.
Knight Two stepped forward instinctively, but Baldwin raised a gloved hand, halting him with a single gesture.
His voice was tight, barely holding back a growl.
"What is it now?" he asked.
October shifted nervously. "Are you leaving?"
"Yes."
"Can I at least... know your name?" she whispered.
Baldwin stared at her, the corner of his mouth twitching downward.
He knew he should walk away. He had meetings to attend, battles to prepare for, an empire to rule.
But somehow, against all reason, he found himself answering.
"...Baldwin," he said at last, his voice low. "My name is Baldwin."
He watched as her face lit up like the dawn itself. Her hands dropped from his coat, and she clutched them tightly in front of her, her entire body trembling with excitement.
Without waiting for her to say anything else, Baldwin turned sharply on his heel, his knights falling in step behind him.
Behind him, October whispered breathlessly to herself:
"I think I'm in love."
---
Several paces away, one of the knights coughed discreetly.
"Sir," Knight One said under his breath, "was that... wise?"
Baldwin grunted. "She's harmless. Just a foolish child."
"And yet," Knight Two added, "you told her your name."
Baldwin said nothing. His face was stone, but somewhere deep inside — somewhere he hadn't dared feel for years — something small and fragile stirred.
---
Meanwhile, October remained rooted to the spot, her heart hammering so loudly she was sure anyone nearby could hear it.
She clutched the name "Baldwin" to her chest like a precious treasure.
"Baldwin," she repeated under her breath. "Baldwin Baldwin Baldwin..."
Each whisper tasted sweeter than the last.
"I'll marry him," she vowed fiercely, her small fists balling at her sides. "I don't care what anyone says. I'll make him see."
She spun around, skirts flaring like petals, and darted back toward the bustling courtyard — plans already whirling through her head.
Step One: Find out everything about King Baldwin.
Step Two: Get him to talk to her again.
Step Three: Marry him.
Simple.
In her mind, it was practically already done.
---
Back with Baldwin, the emperor sat astride his great black warhorse, frowning into the distance.
"She's trouble," he muttered.
Knight One cleared his throat. "Sir?"
"That girl," Baldwin said, his voice colder now, as if trying to freeze away the strange warmth her presence had stirred. "Keep her away from me."
"Of course, sire," Knight Two said, bowing.
But both knights exchanged a knowing glance behind his back.
Neither of them had missed the way Baldwin's eyes had lingered — just for a second — on the silver-haired girl.
Nor had they missed the faintest, tiniest smile that had tugged at the corner of their cold king's lips.