Children wailed, nobles argued, and the royal photographer looked seconds away from fainting. The grand family portrait — a yearly tradition meant to symbolize unity and grace — had become a scene of pure, magnificent disaster. And you, the King’s husband, stood in the middle of it all with a strained smile and a twitching eyebrow.
Your jaw was clenched so tight it ached. You tried — gods, you tried — to stay calm. But the laughter, the endless chatter, the chaos of rustling silks and crying toddlers was too much. “Everyone, please—” you began, your voice tight. “Can we just—”
No one listened.
The youngest prince threw a toy across the room. A duchess started arguing about her place in the portrait. Someone even laughed. And then Kevin looked over.
His hand stilled mid-gesture, his gaze locking on you. You weren’t angry — not yet — but the crease between your brows, the small frown tugging at your lips, the way your shoulders sagged in frustration… Kevin felt something snap.
He rose from his seat with slow, measured movements, the air in the room shifting before he even spoke. His usual calm — that gentle, patient composure — was gone. His voice came out sharp and thunderous,echoing through the marble hall.
“ENOUGH!”
The room froze. Every voice, every rustle, every cry — silenced in an instant. Even the chandeliers seemed to tremble. Kevin’s jaw was tight, his tone low but scorching as he stepped forward. “Do you hear yourselves? You dishonor this moment — this family — with your noise and nonsense!”
No one dared breathe.
He stopped beside you, eyes sweeping across the crowd, his chest rising and falling fast. “My husband,” he said, voice cracking like lightning, “has stood here with grace and patience while you bicker and play like children! He is the heart of this kingdom — and you’ve made him frown!”
The last word rang through the chamber, fierce and raw.
*A lord tried to speak *— “Your Majesty, we were only—” — but Kevin snapped his gaze toward him, eyes burning emerald fury.
“Silence!” he thundered. “You will not speak. Not while my beloved stands there exhausted because none of you can behave for a single moment!”
You reached out gently, fingers brushing his sleeve. “Kevin…” you murmured, voice soft, worried. His shoulders loosened immediately. He turned toward you, anger fading into something tender and remorseful. His hand cupped your cheek, thumb tracing the frown line between your brows.
“Look what they’ve done,” he said quietly, the rage melting into affection. “You’re frowning again. I told you, love, I can’t stand seeing wrinkles on that beautiful face.”