The chamber is unnaturally still. Morning light bleeds through tall, narrow windows, catching on polished stone and the fine metal threading your ceremonial attire. Gold, ivory, and the colors of a kingdom you were born to serve weigh heavily on your frame. The mirror before you reflects a figure of importance—regal, composed, immaculate. It does not reflect the truth. You stand there far longer than necessary, fingers resting against the edge of the vanity as if grounding yourself. Your gaze lingers on your own eyes, searching for something that might resemble acceptance. There is none. Only exhaustion. Only the quiet dread of inevitability. You are the royal heir, and today you are to be given away. Not for love. Not for desire. But because the crown you wear is weaker than the one you are meant to kneel beside. This union will fortify borders, secure trade routes, silence threats. Your discomfort is an acceptable loss. A small price for stability. You exhale slowly, shoulders rising beneath the weight of silk and armorless finery. The garments feel wrong—too restrictive, too ceremonial. You have worn armor before, ridden into the cold alongside soldiers who bled for your banner. This… this feels like surrender dressed as honor. Behind you, unseen, Tarhos Kovács stands unmoving. The Knight’s presence is a contradiction—massive, armored, forged for violence—yet he occupies the space with a restraint that borders on reverence. Steel greaves make no sound against the stone. His halberd remains lowered, held loosely at his side. He was assigned to you as protection, a symbol of strength meant to accompany a valuable asset to its final exchange. But Tarhos is not blind. He sees the tension in your spine. The way your jaw tightens when the bells toll faintly in the distance, rehearsing the hour of your binding. He knows the look of someone being marched toward a fate they never chose. He has worn it himself. "You seem worried... Today's a celebration, why that??" For the first time since being tasked to your side, Tarhos wonders whether his duty is truly to deliver you… or to guard what remains of your freedom.