I was born under the Winter Star, a child made to fill the need of legacy. My father was by no means a violent man, but he had exceedingly high expectations. Failure was met with being locked in my room, success with the mere demand that I continue being successful. Nothing I did ever satisfied him. He was cold, distant, and cared little for interacting with us like a normal family. Instead, we were there to sate his desires; a wife to make children and a son to carry on his name.

At least we had servants to keep us company. My father insisted that no one in his family would have to do 'manual labor', and so hired enough maids and butlers to complete every little task needed. I never went anywhere without being accompanied by at least one of them. The task of shepherding my inquisitive mind fell to Bellamina, who became a dear friend and confidant surpassed only by my mother Breia. Even from an early age, I was taught history, etiquette, business and law, but it was Bella who taught me the basis of the skills I would later hone when my father decided I was a nuisance.

I was thirty-four when I met Frida. She was the granddaughter of a general who helped the good Prince Gram in the Seven Day War, and a warrior in her own right even without earning a title. She was a kind soul, with the most beautiful brown hair and gorgeous dark eyes that peered into your soul. How I adored every moment I spent just talking to her about anything and everything. She spoke passionately and had a gaze of steely cool. She loved as fiercely as she could fight.

I still remember that day clear as crystal; the Harbinger of Seasons' chilling breath blew across Lorelei, bringing with it a fine snow. I was walking in the city near Vex's Ventures. Then came a voice, tender and lilting. I felt drawn as if by magic, and found myself moving through the alleyways until I came upon a small cemetery I'd never seen before. I saw her standing there, tall as the Arid Peaks. Even in her long yellow dress, her bare broad shoulders and neckline seemed to flex with her every movement as she sang a song I'd never heard before. It was a beautiful melody, a story of love lost and found.

"Who are you, who sings of such pain as though you have no one left in the world?" I asked, and she turned her eyes to me. I was lost in but a second.

She clasped her hands before her, face shifting from mild embarrassment to a soft smile. She stepped aside, revealing the grave stone behind her. "I'm terribly sorry to say, but I fit that description rather accurately." Her speaking voice was just as lovely, a hidden strength resonating from within.

"I-I see. Your husband?" I approached curiously, looking down at the stone.

"My father. I have no one else." Terse, straight to the point. I liked it better when compared to my father and his friends who never said what they meant and took ages to get a point across.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Miss. I hope the gods look favorably on him." I wasn't used to this sort of thing. Death was not in my experience.

"I'm sure they will. He was the best man I've ever known."

I don't know why I decided to do what came next. I only know that my body moved on its own. I pulled the flask from inside my coat and poured some of my mead out upon the stone. "Shameful to go to Eringal without one last good drink. Vieta, good sir."

"That's a kind gesture, sir. Thank you."

"You should get out of the cold, Miss...Come, let me buy you a drink to warm the heart and lift the spirit." She seemed to almost scoff at my offer.

"I don't know you, sir. What if you're after something more... personal?" Her arms folded across her chest, more for stance than to protect herself from the cold.

"Honestly, Miss, you're built like a brick wall. I think if I tried getting something more personal, you'd break me in half. But I do want to keep that lovely voice in my life if but a few hours more...If it makes you feel better-" I bowed low, hand to my heart. "My name is Phinneas Autumnsong II. You can call me Finn."

The woman shifted with a chuckle. "Lord Autumnsong's son? I'm surprised you'd slum it up with us non-silver spoon having folk."

"You may not believe it, Miss, but I'm by no means anything like my father." My eyes drifted up to her own. Like pools of dark honey.

The woman's chuckle warped to a laugh, and she held a hand out to me. "Frida, if you must know my name. Frida Summerwind "

Ours was a courtship that blazed with relative ease. I loved her love for life, her willingness to try just about anything once, her inner and outer strength. I think she just loved that I knew how to play an instrument to go with her singing.

Unfortunately, my father would not hear of it. His son would marry a noble born, not some common peasant. And it would be a woman of his own choosing, from a family he could benefit from bonding with. I tried to tell him how wrong that ideal was. My father, stubborn mule that he is, wouldn't listen.

"A woman must be more refined than a barbarian like that. A noblewoman has the ability to converse and entertain, not to mention the...domestic benefits she can grant."

"I'm not looking for just the domestic benefits. Frida has so much to offer me that I don't have!"

"What could she possibly be able to give you, Finn? You have everything you could ever want!"

"No, Father. You have everything you could ever want. Money, power, servants to tend to your every whim, and a wife and son who are just there to give you more fingers to stick in other pies. As long as people can see how much you have and envy you for it, what else do you need?"

My father, as I said, was not a violent man. But he had a temper that burned hot when he was rejected or someone went against his orders. I'd done so quite a few times in my youth, and the tongue lashing alone had frequently frightened me long before anyone even considered laying hand or rod to backside.

All that is to say that he was particularly furious, moreso than I'd ever seen him before, and his frothing wrath left him fit to be tied before he decked me right in the face. It caught me by surprise as I lay there, staring up at my father with his face scrunched like a demon, anger spilling out of him like blood from a wound. I should have known what might come next when his last words to me were "You'll regret this, son".

I spent the evening with Frida. It was the most joyous moment of the whole day, even with my new black eye. She didn't mind. She iced it down and laid my head in her lap. I can't begin to describe how wonderful it is to lay your head in the lap of a loved one!...But I digress.

Frida looked upon this pathetic sight, this tiny man with his tiny head upon her enormous thighs, and whispered something to me. A solemn desire, the only one she had ever expressed. "Marry me", she said. I had to take a moment to process what I'd just heard.

"What?"

"Marry me. Bind our hearts together for life, Finn. Never part from me in spirit, even if your body goes far away. Grant me this one request."

I'd never considered the idea of not marrying Frida. From the moment we'd begun our relationship, the thought had always been there; the two of us, our own house with our own children who didn't have to be under their grandfather's thumb. Long walks around Lorelei, tea with Mother at least once a week. The thought of anything else hurt more than I can say. My only concern had been time. I wanted to give my father time, I wanted to hope beyond hope that he might change his mind about her. But that evening changed everything.

We got married two hours later, in a small ceremony with only ourselves, a priest, and my dear Bellamina as witness. It was the happiest day of my life, shiner and all. Followed swiftly by the worst day of my life.