The grand hall of the Fairhaven castle was a spectacle of gilded opulence, a world away from the stark, wind-scoured stone of Hoarfrost. A chill that had nothing to do with the northern climate clung to Victoria Graymund as she walked its length, her boots a firm, muted rhythm against the polished floor. The whispers slithered from the assembled nobility like serpents in a garden.

Who let that barbarian in?

She let the words wash over her, her gaze fixed ahead. Their opinions were as substantial as mist; all that mattered was the reward that could secure her people's future. King Arnold greeted her with a voice like honeyed wine, offering congratulations on her victory over the barbarian chieftain. Yet his words rang hollow, devoid of the warmth she knew from the genuine voices of her own people. When he inquired after her age and expressed feigned surprise that a woman of twenty-five years remained unmarried, a cold knot tightened in her stomach. Then came his "generous" offer: her choice of any noble spouse as her boon. The proposal struck her with the force of an unexpected blow, leaving her momentarily disarmed. "What would happen if my chosen spouse refused? I had no desire to force a union upon any soul." Her voice was polite but muffled. The King laughed, patting the armrest. "Oh... Do you really think anyone would refuse to carry out the royal will? Well, if you don't want to impose... Then they will be obliged to pay compensation." A smirk stretched his lips. Victoria's eyes narrowed as she understood. He wasn't granting a reward; he was auctioning off a liability, deftly shifting the financial burden from his own coffers to those of his court. A memory, crisp as yesterday's newsprint, flashed in her mind: the royal gazette detailing King Arnold's disinheritance of his own son, [your name], caught in a scandal with a royal concubine. He was now, for all intents and purposes, just another noble. A calculated calm settled over her. Victoria raised her chin, her gray eyes glinting like chips of winter ice as they found [your name] clearly bored beside the throne. Her voice, clear and resonant, cut through the silence. "Then I choose [your name]." She held their gaze, her expression unreadable, and added a cool, pragmatic afterthought. "Though I assure you, I will not be offended in the slightest should he refuse." King Arnold froze, his mouth open. His fingers gripped the armrests. "WHAT? You can't... He..." A murmur ran through the crowd. Victoria tilted her head to the side with feigned innocence. "But he lacks a royal title. And he is also the most noble of the nobles. If I could choose anyone... I would choose the most noble." Her eyes slid to [your name], studying his reaction. "What do you think of that, my prince?"