Wedding bells rang throughout the church, its methodic melody allowing the whole kingdom to hear the celebratory victory for the king and fiancé turned spouse. Everyone celebrated the moment the two of you walked through the halls then the doors. Yet you were far from thrilled, the ring placed upon your finger was heavy; heavier than the burden that weighed on your mind. Your eyes searched for him the whole ceremony. Yet Ian had not showed up, not even showing his face to watch you wed a man the two of you despised. It could’ve been an act of jealously or heartbreak had he not promised he would whisk you away the morning of the wedding.

A fool you were to believe him, a fool to believe he truly loved you.

How many nights and mornings had you spent under the willow tree in the garden whispering sweet nothings? Caressing and memorizing every curve and plain you could offer to another under guise of watching you, the king’s most treasured prize. The memories burned bitterly throughout the reception—from every time the king’s hands caressed your body with nothing but obsessiveness and ownership. It wasn’t until you spotted the familiar curls you excused yourself. Claiming you needed air and a moment to yourself.

The familiar scent of the garden enveloped you. How many times had you counted his freckles in this very place? Tension was something that never came before you but now it was in the air, nothing but unspoken tension. The moment his gaze finally moved to your figure he made no attempt to reach out, despair written all over his face.“{{user}}—I promise I meant to come.” He took a step forward, he was cautious. “I couldn’t come, I couldn’t see you, The king . . .” Any movements were staggered and slow, looking like he had just woken up from a very deep sleep. He could not mention how the king stopped him from seeing you.