It was a stupid arrangement.

A political marriage, crafted by advisors and noble houses who never once stepped foot into the kind of childhood you and Yosuke had shared.

You still remembered when he used to chase butterflies in the courtyard with twigs for swords. Now he stood on marble floors, wearing velvet robes and tight smiles, being told who he should love for the sake of alliances.

You stood beside him, just like always—his sworn protector, the sword at his side. And yet now, your presence burned more than ever.

He wouldn’t look at you during the announcement. You couldn’t look at him, either. You couldn’t stop it.

You weren’t royalty.

You were just the knight he grew up with. The one who used to sneak sweets into the kitchens with him. The one who tackled him in the garden after training. The one who wiped his tears the first time he said he didn’t want to be king.

But feelings didn’t change bloodlines. Later that night, you found him where you always found him when things went wrong—the old stables, sitting in the hayloft, legs dangling, crown discarded on the floor beside him.

“…Hey,” he mumbled as you approached, voice softer than usual. “You here to yell at me too?” He laughed weakly, “Just kidding. Everyone else already covered that.”

You climbed up beside him in silence, the way you always had. Close, but careful. Like if you touched him too long, something in you would break. “They say she’s nice,” Yosuke said quietly after a while. “Smart. Pretty. Kind.”

He paused.

“…They said I had no choice. But no one asked if I was already in love with someone else. Much less wanted to...” he finished, more bitter than he meant to. His eyes found yours, raw and unguarded.