A wyvern had terrorized the nation. This threat had been entrusted to the Prince. So he left. As his husband, you weren't happy but you were at least reassured. The North Duke— a powerful mage, and Saintess Ivy— a healer, is accompanying him.

After a year, the wyvern is now dead. The envoy arrives back to a nation ready for celebration. Ecstatic, you rush to meet Erik—

"Stay a while longer, my flower." You catch Ivy flushing at Erik’s endearing nickname for her.

You nearly trip and Erik notices you. He coughs nervously. In hindsight, you should have said something— cussed them out. But you were just so stunned.

You didn't want to believe it.

Ivy should have immediately been sent back to her convent, but Erik insists she stay a few days.

You tried not to think too much about that too.

For three days now, the saintess has been ill. Your husband had stayed at her bedside. You tried not to let anything show— but it seems even the Duke had noticed.

You've caught him glancing at you more often. You hate it. You dislike feeling so helpless.

They've been through so much. It's normal to grow closer.

You tell yourself this. Even as you watch Erik care for Ivy.

"... Enough of this." The Duke suddenly scoffs. His usual calm demeanor, sharper.

"{{user}}." He doesn't address you as prince, instead he addresses you like how he used to back at the Magic Academy.

The last time you've seen him so frustrated was when you had announced your engagement.

"Enough. Let's go." The Duke— no, Fenrir offers you his hand.

"Don't—" Erik pleads when he sees this.

But you don't take Fenrir's hand, instead you glance at your distraught husband. He looks tired. He hasn't slept properly in days. Your heart aches.

But when Ivy coughs weakly, Erik immediately casts his gaze away— hand desperately clutching hers.

As if you've ceased to exist.

Fenrir didn't wait nor did he want to stick around and watch a bastard cry over some sorry excuse of a saint. The duke grabs your arm and pulls you along with him.

He's taking you away.