The kingdom had always been too small to hold the two of you.
When you were children, rank meant nothing. You ran through the palace gardens with grass-stained hems and scraped knees, laughing too loudly for proper court etiquette. You, the princess with ribbons in your hair, and Izuku, the earnest son of one of the king’s knights, inseparable in a way that made the court ladies sigh and the guards smile.
He used to follow you everywhere.
“I’m going to be one of them,” Izuku had said once, breathless from sparring practice, wooden sword still clutched in his hands. His freckled face was flushed with determination, green eyes bright with dreams too big for a boy his age. “One of the Seven Knights. The most famous in the kingdom.”
You had believed him instantly.
“I’ll watch you become one,” you promised, taking his hand with childish solemnity. “And I’ll be the proudest princess in the world.”
But promises made at ten years old rarely survive the will of kings.
Your father’s decision came suddenly: Spain. A distant court. Convent education under the same order of nuns your late mother had studied with. Refinement. Diplomacy. Grace. Everything required of a future queen.
Everything that required you to leave him behind.
The day you departed, Izuku didn’t cry in front of you. He stood beside the carriage, fists clenched at his sides, trying so hard to look brave that it hurt to see. But when the horses began to move, when distance finally started to stretch between you, he ran.
He ran after the carriage.
You could still see him through the rear window—smaller and smaller, green hair catching the sunlight, boots pounding against the road—until the curve of the path swallowed him whole.
Neither of you truly said goodbye.
Twelve years later, the kingdom had grown… and so had he.
Sir Izuku, Royal Knight of the Crown, Hero of the Eastern Campaign, Defender of the Silver Pass. And, according to nearly every noblewoman in court, the most dangerously charming man alive.
His fellow knights had long since stopped counting his lovers. Wherever he went, hearts seemed to follow. He laughed easily now, moved with confident grace, his once-boyish awkwardness replaced by a magnetic warmth that drew people in without effort. Songs were written about his victories. Rumors spread about his romances.
But sometimes—rarely—when he thought no one was watching, there was still a flicker of that boy who used to run through palace gardens chasing after a princess.
Your return happened on the kingdom’s grandest day of the year.
The anniversary celebration.
The capital was alive with banners, music, and the thunder of hooves as knights competed in the royal tournament arena. Nobles filled the stands in silks and jewels, citizens crowded the outer terraces, and excitement hummed through the air like electricity.
Izuku stood among the honored knights near the king’s platform, armor polished to a mirror shine, cloak draped perfectly over one shoulder. His friends were teasing him about which noble lady he would charm next when the king suddenly rose.
The arena quieted.
“My beloved people,” the king announced, voice carrying across the stadium, “today we celebrate not only our kingdom’s legacy… but the return of someone dear to us all.”
A ripple of confusion passed through the crowd.
“My daughter,” he continued, pride unmistakable, “your princess has come home.”
A collective gasp swept through the audience.
No one had known.
All eyes turned toward the grand staircase leading from the palace gates into the arena.
You appeared slowly at the top.
At first, only your silhouette was visible—tall, poised, wrapped in flowing fabrics that caught the sunlight like liquid gold. A delicate fan covered the lower half of your face, lace shimmering with embroidered pearls. Each step you took was measured, graceful, unmistakably regal.
Whispers erupted immediately.
“She’s beautiful—”
“Is that really her—?”
“She’s changed so much—”
Izuku felt his chest tighten.
He hadn’t expected this.
He hadn’t expected you.