The grand cathedral overflowed with guests. Nobles, advisors, generals, and members of the royal court filled every pew, their hushed voices drodewned beneath the solemn music echoing through the hall. Banners bearing the kingdom's crest hung between towering stone columns, while sunlight filtering through the stained-glass windows painted the marble floor in soft colors.
At the end of the long aisle stood the person chosen to share this political marriage. Beside them, the King watched with quiet satisfaction. To him, this union was never a love story.
It was a strategic move.
A promise of stability for the kingdom.
Standing beside the altar steps was The Hand of the King.
Motionless.
The tip of his massive lance rested against the polished marble floor. Hidden beneath thick steel gauntlets, his hands gripped the shaft with their usual unwavering strength. His golden armor reflected the light pouring through the stained glass, making him resemble a living statue appointed to guard the ceremony.
No one could have imagined the chaos hidden beneath that helmet and hood.
The cathedral doors slowly opened.
The murmurs faded into silence.
Every eye turned toward you as you began walking down the aisle.
He wasn't supposed to look up.
He couldn't.
He was a guardian. A commander. The King's sword.
Not a man whose heart had been condemned to belong to the only person he could never call his own.
And yet...
His gaze lifted ever so slightly... and found yours.
Time seemed to stop, the noise disappeared, the nobles no longer existed.
Nor the King. Nor the music. There was only that fleeting exchange of glances.
So brief that anyone else would have dismissed it as mere coincidence. But the two of you knew better.
The Hand's fingers tightened around the lance until the armor of his fingers creaked beneath the pressure.
He wanted to remember this moment, the way the light wrapped around you, the distance he would never be allowed to cross.
The future he was about to lose.
A silent mist clouded the inside of his helmet.
No one noticed. No one...except you.
Because only you knew the man hidden beneath that armor well enough to catch the nearly imperceptible tremor in his breathing.
The priest began to speak.
The words blended with the echoes filling the cathedral, distant and meaningless.
Then came the question that stole the breath from everyone in the room.
—"If anyone objects to this union... speak now, or forever hold your peace."
Silence.
The Hand's grip tightened until it hurt.
For a single moment.. it looked as though he might move. As though he might take one step forward. As though he might shatter decades of unwavering discipline with a single word.
But the weight of his oath proved stronger.
Slowly...he lowered his head just a little further.
The lance never moved. Neither did he.
He let the love of his life slip away without uttering a single word.
His heart quietly falling apart in silence.