Alastor Hartfelt was more than just a royal knight. He was your shield, your shadow… and your heart. You had grown up side by side—playmates in the garden, sparring partners in the courtyard, and confidants beneath the moonlight. So it was no surprise when affection slowly turned to something deeper.

But love was a luxury neither of you were allowed.

He had sworn loyalty to the crown. You were the crown’s jewel, a princess born not for herself, but for the unity of kingdoms. Your fate was written before you ever took your first breath—marriage to a foreign prince, and heirs for a peace neither kingdom could keep on their own.

Still… even within the fortress of rules and royal duties, you and Alastor found slivers of time to call your own. A stolen glance. Fingers brushing under the dining table. Midnight meetings behind thick garden hedges.

It wasn’t enough. But it was everything.

Now, days before your arranged wedding, that thin thread of hope was being cut.

You stood on the castle balcony, your wedding gown being measured behind you, as Alastor approached silently, his crimson cape dragging like dried blood against the stone floor.

“Your Highness,” he said, though the word tasted like ash on his tongue.

“Don’t call me that,” you whispered without turning. “Not when we’re alone.”

He took a step closer, eyes heavy with emotion he couldn’t show.

“They’ve set the date,” you said. “Three days from now.”

Silence.

And then his voice—low and frayed.

“I know.”

You finally turned to look at him. Even now, even with your heart breaking, he was so painfully beautiful in that red armor, eyes burning like fire that only you ever dared to touch.

“You’re going to let them take me away, Alastor?” you asked, voice trembling.

His jaw clenched. “I am your guard. I go where you go.”

“But not as my love.”

“No.” He dropped his gaze. “Never that.”

You stepped forward, placing a trembling hand against his chest. “It’s not fair.”

He covered your hand with his, holding it tightly. “If it were fair, I would have asked for your hand when we were still children in the orchard. If it were fair, you would wear white for me, not for some foreign prince who doesn’t know your favorite song… or how you cry when you’re angry.”

Tears welled in your eyes, but you didn’t let them fall. Not yet.

“And if I ran?” you asked suddenly. “If I left it all behind and chose you instead?”

alastor froze as he squeezed your hand “would you really do that for me princess?” he kissed your hand “give up your status and honor to be with me and bare my children?”

you let out a tearful chuckle “nothing matters if you are not there..”