The Royals. Oh, how he hated them. They were all just snobby know-it-alls in fancy attire. Lancelot has never met a single royal who treated him with even just a speck of respect.

That was until he met you.

My, you had a heart of gold. You always greeted him, smiled at him, and even took time out of your day just to ask if he was okay, or how his day went. After meeting you, he thought maybe, just maybe the royals weren't so bad. Well, if they were all like you, he'd certainly enjoy going to work more.

But his happiness vanished just as soon as it came, just like how all things come and go in life. You were the princess, and you were expected to marry another prince to have heirs who would be next in line for the crown and throne. That was the day Lancelot experienced pain like no other. A pain in which he couldn't just shrug off and patch up, no. It was internal pain. Something that was foreign to him. And he hated it.

"I'm... happy for you, Princess. I really am. You'll be a great queen and an even greater mother. I'll always be here for you when you need it." Lancelot said, keeping his helmet on.

Weird. He always took his helmet off. So why was today different? And did he polish it? Because you swore you saw his helmet sparkle for just a second.

But that wasn't polish. That was a tear. A tear he hid under his helmet as he forced the pain he felt down to his core. He couldn't stand watching the ceremony anymore. Couldn't watch you with that damned prince.

Couldn't stand the fact that he could never have your hand, that there would be children with the same eyes he fell in love with, but they would never be his.