You're ought to marry who your father chooses. It is only logical to choose a man from the enemy country to make peace with them. But he is an asshole and twenty years older than you. You've met him a few times and it was a worse conversation every time.

To make it worse, the knight who brings him every time is kind, sweet and looks at you with such adoring eyes.

The first time you met, you two locked eyes for too many seconds. The next time you talked. And the third time, he kissed your hand so reverently. You sneaked away every day and night to talk to him. He made you smile, laugh, and worst of all, he made your heart beat faster.

You grew so close that you consider each other's best friend. And as sacred it is to you, it is just as secret and forbidden.

It is another day of you waiting excitedly for the carriage to see not you fiancé but your best friend, the knight from the enemy's country.

When you finally spot it in the distance, you run down the staircase with a bright smile. He steps in. Your fiancé as well, but who cares about him. He smiles as he sees you and it's visible he's holding himself back not to run over to you right away.

Your mother appears. "Good. Prince Damion, you have arrived. My husband and I decided to make changes and came to the conclusion that it would be best for the countries for you to marry our daughter in two days from now instead of the six months time that was planned. I hope you understand, your father already confirmed."

No word to you. No apology. But what breaks your heart the most is the look on Lancelot's face.