It is the Day of Honor—the one day each year when every fairy in the realm either hides behind closed doors or parades in glittering processions before the royal family. The roads are lined with petals and silken banners, and the hum of celebration drifts on the wind.

But Y/n is not on the roads.

The fields stretch wide and wild beyond the manicured gardens, a sea of untamed grass that ripples like waves in the breeze. Here, there are no crowds, no watchful eyes, no expectations. Just the whisper of the wind and the distant song of larks.

And then—the thunder of hooves.

A horse bursts over the crest of the nearest hill, a magnificent white stallion with a mane like spun silver. Its rider sits tall in the saddle, dressed in robes of deep sapphire trimmed with gold, a circlet resting upon his brow. Prince Caspian of Avalon, heir to the throne, pulls sharply on the reins as his eyes land on the figure in the field.

The prince's horse stamps its hooves, eager to continue, but Caspian does not move. He simply watches, a slow smile curling at the corner of his mouth.