She was a vision of beauty, with a face that could brighten even the gloomiest day. Her porcelain skin glowed with a natural radiance, and her eyes sparkled like rare sapphires. Cascading curls of chestnut hair framed her delicate features, and her rosy lips held a permanent hint of a smile. But as the people aboard the grand airship admired her ethereal beauty, she carried a heavy burden of despair deep within her soul.

The airship, a marvel of engineering and luxury, was a floating palace that traveled through the skies. It boasted luxurious cabins adorned with intricate carvings and plush velvet furnishings. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a warm, golden glow on the polished mahogany floors. The airship's crew, dressed in dark navy uniforms, bustled about their duties, their footsteps muffled by plush carpets.

Despite the opulence surrounding her, the princess found no solace in her surroundings. She moved through the ship with an air of melancholy, her elegant gown trailing behind her. Every maid who approached her with kindness and concern was met with sharp retorts, and every polite greeting from the crew was ignored. Anger had consumed her heart, and the weight of her impending fate pressed heavily upon her. It seemed as if despair was the only companion she had left.

The people onboard sympathized with the princess and understood the depth of her anguish. They longed for her to find happiness in a more deserving match. Whispers echoed through the airship's halls, sharing tales of more noble suitors who would cherish her, such as the charismatic prince of Hain, known for his chivalry and generosity, or the young king of Yudon, whose compassion was renowned throughout the land. But their hopes were dashed by the bitter reality that their king, the princess's father, had struck a perilous deal that left them with no say in the matter.

One gloomy afternoon, as the airship glided through the clouds, the princess's anguished voice cut through the air.

"Hey, you there!"

A maid, bustling by, immediately halted and scurried toward the princess, her eyes filled with concern.

"Yes your highness?" the maid replied, her voice trembling slightly.

"Just call me princess, not your highness," the princess commanded, her tone filled with weariness.

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"Very well, princess. What can I do for you?" the maid inquired, doing her best to hide her own anxiety.

"Bring me the portrait of the second prince of Vizelia," the princess requested with a tinge of resignation, her gaze fixed on the distant horizon.

"Right away, princess. Please wait here," the maid responded, her heart aching for the princess's sorrow.

After a brief absence, the maid returned, carefully cradling a small painting in her hands. She approached the princess and reverently offered the portrait. The princess took it gently, her eyes locked upon the depiction of the man who would soon become her husband.

The painting portrayed a young man with unassuming features. His face held no remarkable distinction, and his physique seemed average in height and build. However, it was his eyes that commanded attention—a pair of fierce, penetrating orbs that sent shivers down the spines of those who gazed into them. Dark and intense, they burned with an indomitable fire, as if holding the power to pierce through the deepest secrets and unravel the souls of men. Even in the static portrayal of the painting, the ferocity in his eyes seemed to flicker with a hint of untamed madness. This man, the second prince of Vizelia, had earned the moniker of the "Psycho Prince," and it was this quality that struck fear into the hearts of those who knew of him. This man, was destined to be her partner in the union her father had orchestrated.

As the princess's gaze lingered on the portrait, a torrent of conflicting emotions swirled within her. Her heart ached for her beloved Mazenda, a kingdom that embodied peace, prosperity, and all she held dear. Her father, the king, loved her deeply, but in his desperation to safeguard their homeland, he had made a devastating choice. Vizelia, a small and savage kingdom with a fearsome, death-defying army, loomed threateningly at their borders. In a desperate bid to prevent war, the king had wagered his daughter's hand in marriage, hoping to forge an alliance with their powerful neighbor.

The weight of her responsibility bore down upon her like a crushing storm cloud. How could her father be so seemingly heartless, bartering her happiness for the sake of the kingdom? Tears welled up in her eyes, and as they streamed down her cheeks, the airship's inhabitants observed her silent suffering. They, too, were caught in the web of her father's decision, their hands bound by loyalty and duty. They yearned to offer her comfort, to aid her escape from this seemingly inevitable fate. Yet the repercussions were too dire to ignore. If they were discovered aiding her flight, they would be branded traitors to their beloved kingdom. And if Vizelia were to launch an assault, their once idyllic lives would be thrust into the chaos of war.

And so, the princess wept in solitude, her cries echoing through the grand halls of the airship until she had no tears left to shed. The people around her, torn between their own desires and their allegiance, remained silent witnesses to her silent torment. Each of them wished for a miracle, praying that somehow, against all odds, the princess would find a path to freedom and happiness. But as the airship sailed on, propelled by the relentless winds, it seemed that the cruel hand of fate had already sealed her destiny.