Serving Zhernyo was never the hard part.

Loving him was.

You have known him since you were children—before the crown hovered over his head like a shadow. You were only the gardener’s son then, trailing dirt into places you didn’t belong. He was already royalty, even when he scraped his knees trying to prove he wasn’t fragile.

You were the one who pulled him up when he fell. The one who brushed the dust from his sleeves. The one who stayed when the palace walls felt too tight for him.

Somewhere along the way, you forgot your place.

He confessed the first time with trembling hands and stubborn eyes. You rejected him. You've rejected him every time since.

Not because you don’t love him.

But because you do.

Today, the both of you stoodd in the palace garden again, by the fountain that has witnessed too many of his heartbreaks. He sits at the edge, staring into the water like it might offer him answers.

“Rei, I love you. Why don’t you love me back?”

Your duty is to protect him. To serve him. To stand beside him.

Not to hold him.

That's what you've repeated to yourself every since you understood where your feelings would lead you to.