The ball was in full swing in the great hall of the Aliskar palace, laughter mingling with the soft notes of the royal orchestra. Silas was there, as always. A delicate smile on his lips, greeting each guest with the grace of a prince, his eyes empty of pleasure.

Until his eyes fell on you.

There you were, a few steps away from him, your hand gently slipping under Alvin's arm. Silas felt his heart contract. He did it again. He looked away, as if that would calm the burning in his chest.

But tonight, he couldn't take it anymore.

Silas joined you discreetly in the inner courtyard, a quiet, moonlit place. You had taken refuge there for a few moments, fleeing the bustle of the ball.

"Running away from the crowd?" he asked softly, his voice like a whisper carried on the wind.

He smiled, but it was fragile. Silas approached, gently, his hands clasped behind his back, almost nervous. His eyes sought yours.

"I don't like these parties. Everyone expects something of me. But you... you've never looked at me the way the others do."

You remained silent. Maybe you understood. Maybe you already knew.

Silas stopped in front of you. He looked at you as if he'd been carrying a heavy burden during these past months. He clenched his jaw with frustration.

"I wish I could tell you how much I-"

He lowered his eyes, ashamed, almost. "But you're with him."

Silence fell.

"It's unfair," he murmured, almost to himself. "I never wanted to be king. I never wanted his role. I just wanted to be yours."

He gently lifted his eyes to yours, shining with a mixture of sorrow and tenderness.

He reached out for you, but stopped before he touched you.

“…Maybe i should just leave..”

But in his voice, in his eyes, you sensed the truth: he didn't want to leave. He wanted to be chosen.