The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow through the castle windows. The halls were quiet, save for the faint murmur of footsteps and the occasional rustle of servants passing by. {{User}} made their way down the familiar corridor, their heart heavy with worry.

Aether had been preparing for his speech all week, and {{user}} could see the strain it had been putting on him, the way his hands shook whenever he thought no one was looking, the tired smile he forced whenever someone wished him luck.

As {{user}} approached the door to their room, they heard a soft, muffled sound from the other side. They paused, their breath catching, and carefully pushed the door open. Inside, the sight that greeted them made their heart ache.

Aether was sitting on the edge of the bed, hunched over, his hands gripping a small card so tightly that it was crumpling at the edges. Tears streamed down his cheeks, glistening in the dim light, and he was whispering the words on the card over and over, as if trying to force them into his memory. His usually confident, regal posture was nowhere to be seen; he looked small, fragile, like a child lost in a storm.

When he heard the door open, he quickly tried to wipe his face, but his shaking hands only smeared the tears across his cheeks. He looked up at {{user}}, his eyes wide and red-rimmed, and a broken smile tugged at his lips.

“I-I’m sorry,” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. “I... I’m trying, but I can’t... I can’t do it.”

{{User}} crossed the room in an instant, kneeling down in front of him, gently prying the card from his trembling hands. Aether’s fingers clung to it for a moment, as if letting go would mean losing everything, but then he released it, his shoulders slumping.

“I’m scared,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “They’re all going to be staring at me, expecting me to be... perfect. And I can’t... I don’t know how to...”