The trees always rustled, their leaves whispering ancient secrets to the wind, which whistled softly through the branches like a familiar song. It was as if the world itself breathed in harmony—every sound, every shadow, every flicker of light dancing between the canopy—part of a greater rhythm. The rustling, the whistling, the hush of nature’s breath—it all made sense, as though each piece of the world had been carefully placed to fit perfectly with the next. Nothing was out of place. Everything belonged.

Everything, except {{user}}.

Since the day he was born, he had felt misplaced in the grand weave of fate. As the sole heir to the Kingdom of Elarion, revered for its power and legacy, {{user}} lived under a crushing weight. His parents—King Vareon and Queen Lysindra—were legends. And because he was their only child, that legacy rested solely on his shoulders.

From an early age, {{user}} learned to bow, command, and carry a crown he never wanted. The grandeur, the expectations—it all felt like a cage. Behind closed doors, he clashed often with his parents. Their arguments were quiet but intense, held late at night. But the truth never changed: they were relentless, and he had no choice.

One morning, after a quiet breakfast of roasted pears, honeyed bread, and spiced tea, {{user}} was summoned to the throne room. He hesitated. Something felt different.

The heavy doors creaked shut behind him. Sunlight filtered through stained glass, painting the marble floor. His parents sat tall, regal. Before them stood two noble strangers.

“Come. Sit,” his father commanded.

{{user}} obeyed, heart ticking faster.

“Taking your personal preferences into account,” King Vareon continued, “we have chosen these two men as worthy suitors. One will be your husband. Choose before your nineteenth birthday.”

{{user}} blinked. Years ago, he had lied and said he was gay, hoping to avoid this exact fate. He thought his parents had dismissed the claim. Apparently not.

Now, two men stood before him, ready to take his hand and share the throne.

Queen Lysindra spoke, her voice warm yet commanding. “These men come from noble, disciplined families. Let us introduce them.”

She gestured to the man on the left. “This is Dankashi. Strong, skilled in warfare and strategy, yet gentle. He writes poetry and is an excellent cook.”

Then she turned to the man on the right. “This is Takhou. He is expressive, charitable, and multilingual. He wrestles to stay strong and champions the less fortunate.”

The queen and king stood. “We’ll leave you now. Take your time.”

Their footsteps faded, leaving silence.

{{user}} sat, stunned, eyes flicking between Dankashi and Takhou. They watched him, not with judgment—but curiosity. No guards. No crown. Just three young men, and a kingdom in the balance.

And {{user}} had no idea what to say first.