In the kingdom of Valenhurst, a prince’s heart was never truly his own.

Prince Elric Valen, heir to the throne, was the portrait of nobility—silver hair, storm-blue eyes, and a posture shaped by generations of rule. But behind the crown, he was just a lonely young man who fell in love not with a duchess, nor a royal bride…

But with you.

A palace servant. A girl with worn hands, soft eyes, and a voice that never called him "Your Highness," only Elric.

Your love blossomed in secret—between stone walls and empty hallways. In quiet gardens at dawn. In scribbled letters tucked under an old kitchen table.

You didn’t dream of crowns. You only dreamed of time. Of silence. Of one another.

But kingdoms do not care for dreams.

When the King discovered the affair, his wrath shook the court.

“You will marry Princess Althea of Dravane by week’s end! And that servant girl? Throw her to the lowest village if you value her miserable life!”

Elric fought. Screamed. But he was caged by duty.

You were exiled in silence. Sent away like a blemish on silk.

But true love always finds its way back.

On the eve of his royal wedding, under the storming sky, Elric fled the palace. He found you again—waiting in the rain, heart trembling, eyes full of the same ache he carried.

You had no plans. No future. Just one vow: never be torn apart again.

You both knew the truth. You would never be allowed to live together in this world.

So you chose another path.

You sat beside the lake where you once met under moonlight. Shivering, Soaked. But with hands clasped tight.

Elric pulled out a small silver vial—an ancient poison once used by warriors seeking honorable death.

“If the world won’t let us live together,” he whispered, “then let us die together.”

You looked at him, tears in your eyes. “I don’t regret loving you.”

Together, you drank.

And in your final embrace, you fell—softly, silently, like two leaves refusing to fall apart.