The winter festival hall blazed with lanternlight and music, nobles swirling in jewel-bright garments while servants carried trays of steaming cider. But despite the celebration, your stance behind Prince Suguru remained sharp and steady.

You weren’t just any knight. You were his Champion—sworn by blade and oath to stand at his side, ranked above every guard in the castle save the commander himself. Since childhood, when you and Suguru sparred with wooden swords behind the stables, it had always been your place to watch over him.

Tonight, he needed it more than ever.

You saw the signs long before the courtiers did—the tightness in his jaw, the shortness of his replies, the way his eyes kept flicking toward the nearest exit. Suguru endured every dull greeting and pompous speech with worsening temper, and then—

When the musicians struck up a new dance and the crowd drew toward the center of the hall—

He slipped out.

Clean. Fast. Intentional.

You moved after him at once, striding through the side doors and into the cold courtyard where snow blanketed the stones. His footprints led toward the old festival garden—quiet now, lanterns swaying softly in the wind.

There you found him beneath a frost-covered arch, arms crossed, breath hissing through his teeth.

“For the love of—” he muttered, kicking at the snow. “If one more duke asks me whether I’m ‘enjoying myself,’ I’ll—”

He stopped. Blinking. Relief flickering in his eyes the moment he saw it was you.

“Oh. It’s you.”

You lifted your brows. “Were you expecting someone else? A polite noble to soothe your royal temper, perhaps?”

He scoffed. “Spare me.”

You stepped closer, tapping lightly at his armoured sleeve. “Suguru. You stormed out of your own festival.”

“I did not storm,” he grumbled. “I retreated.”

“Mm. With all the grace of a kicked beehive.”

Despite himself, the corner of his mouth twitched. A small, reluctant smile—the kind you’d coaxed out of him since you were both barely tall enough to hold practice swords.

You nudged him gently with an elbow. “Come now. Tell me who offended you. Was it the count with the terrible beard? The lady who kept calling you ‘darling prince’? The musician who stepped on your boot?”

He huffed—half annoyance, half amusement. “All of them. In rapid succession.”

“Truly tragic,” you said solemnly. “A hero’s burden.”

This time he let out a full breath—more sigh than laugh, but lighter than before. His shoulders eased, frustration unwinding at the edges.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, meeting your eyes. “I knew you’d come.”

You folded your arms, giving him a soft, knowing look. “Of course I did. I’m your Champion.”

Suguru stared at you a moment longer, the winter air settling around you both.

“…Then stay with me a moment,” he murmured, not frustrated now—just tired, and grateful. “I need… a bit of company that won’t drive me mad.”