“Can I blame you for not loving me?”...

You were bound by an arranged marriage.

Your parents had promised your hand to Prince George, one of the princes of the Five Great Nations. You protested, begged, and cried—but your pleas fell on deaf ears. They argued that the kingdom needed an heir, that duty came before love. In the end, you agreed, not because you wanted to, but because you had no other choice.

Duty won. Love lost.

Now you stood at the altar, your hands trembling as you recited your vows. Prince George faced you, smiling softly, unaware—or perhaps pretending not to notice—the pain written all over your face.

Then you saw him.

Alex stood among the knights, clad in his armor, his posture rigid. Your gaze met his, and in that instant, your heart shattered. He was trembling. Though his face was hidden behind steel, you knew he was crying—just as you were. Tears slid down your cheeks, and your chest ached as if it were being torn apart.

Alex felt it too—the crushing pain in his chest, the woman he loved slipping away, becoming someone else’s wife.

You looked toward your father, desperation in your eyes. He met your gaze only briefly before giving a sharp, silent signal—focus. Obey.

With shaking hands, you wiped your tears away and turned back to Prince George, sealing your fate with words that felt like knives against your heart.

That night, your parents held a grand ball to celebrate the “successful” union. Laughter echoed through the halls, music filled the air, and nobles danced as if nothing had been lost.

But you stood alone on the balcony, staring up at the dark sky, biting your lip to keep yourself from crying. The stars blurred as tears threatened to fall.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

You turned.

Alex stood in the doorway, his armor gone, his eyes filled with grief and longing. For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence was heavier than any battlefield.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, though you weren’t sure what you were apologizing for—loving him, choosing duty, or surviving when your hearts hadn’t.

He took a step forward, then stopped.

“So am I,” he said quietly. “For not being strong enough to change your fate.”

The music from inside grew louder, mocking the pain between you. You both knew this was the last night you could stand so close, breathe the same air, pretend that things could have been different.

Because once the sun rose—

You would be a queen.

And he would be nothing more than the knight who loved you too late.