Despite what was supposed to be a fulfilled day of two royal families, your heart felt burdened by the weight of the crown now on your head.

In opposite, the field that you walked in was calm, the night's gentle breeze rustled the wildflower petals at your feet. You wished to be just as calm as it was, too. So you sought the solitude it gave, deciding this was the place to escape from the overwhelming expectations of your new title.

Your hand brushed the fragile blossoms, their colors muted in the moonlight, lost in memories more vivid than the present.

Him.

Always him.

Wriothesley—the knight who had stood by your side, sworn to protect you, and unknowingly even stole your heart in the process. His name echoed in your mind. How could you have known then that your heart would forever be bound to someone you were never meant to love?

You kneeled to pluck a flower, touching it tenderly as you held it between your fingers, each graze each memory of between the two of you where times could be when words were unnecessary. You hadn't seen him in years, not since your father had sent him away, claiming it was for the good of the kingdom. The pain of that separation was still fresh, still raw beneath the surface, though you had learned to hide it well. Too well.

"Admiring the flowers?" A sudden voice came softly. "It's late, my prince." he asked, as if unsure if he should have spoken at all—the sound in your ears just as unsure if it was ever really spoken by, none other than, Wriothesley.