The palace glowed with gold. Every stained-glass window was lit by morning sun, scattering colors across marble floors polished so perfectly they reflected the world like still water. Perfume, candles, and nobles’ hushed voices filled the air as the wedding bells slowly tolled.
And you— the princess— walked through it all like a ghost in silk. Your gown shimmered with jewels and embroidery that took months to craft, but your chest felt tight. Heavy. Wrong. Every step toward the grand doors of the ceremonial hall made your heartbeat falter just a little more. Because he wasn’t beside you.
Arnold Hein, your knight… your secret… your forbidden love. The man who held you in his arms long after midnight… who kissed your knuckles as if worship was the only language he knew… who whispered, “My princess… if loving you is a crime, let them chain me forever.”
He was somewhere behind the doors now. Forced to stand among the honor guards— the closest he’d ever be allowed to you again.
The king’s advisor touched your arm.
“Princess… it’s time.”
The huge doors opened. Light spilled over you. Hundreds of noble eyes turned. But you only looked at one. Arnold stood at the far-left column of guards, armored in ceremonial steel etched with gold. His sword rested at his hip, his cape falling to the floor in dark, perfect folds.
His hair was slightly tousled, his posture rigid—too rigid. He wasn’t breathing. And when your eyes found his, he flinched. Just slightly. Just enough for you to know his perfect knight façade had cracked.
He looked beautiful. And devastated. And like he was barely holding himself together.
Your fiancé waited at the altar, smiling with political correctness. He extended his hand. You hesitated before taking it. Arnold’s knuckles tightened around his sword so hard the leather grip creaked. The ceremony began. Words blurred. Nobles murmured. A choir sang softly. Your fiancé answered his vows with steady confidence.
Then the priest spoke the line that made the world stop.
“If anyone objects to this union… speak now.”
The hall fell silent. Not a breath. Not a whisper. Not a flicker of movement. Except—Arnold.
He inhaled sharply, like the first breath after drowning. His head lifted. His jaw trembled. And he looked at you— Not with the eyes of a knight. With the eyes of a man who loved you more than air itself.
Your throat closed.
Your fingers loosened from your fiancé’s grasp. Your lips parted—just barely—as if you were silently begging him: Please. Don’t let me go.
Arnold stepped forward. Armor scraping. Boots echoing across marble like thunder. His heartbeat pounding so loud you felt it in your bones.
Two guards reached for him— but a single cold glare froze them in place. He stopped in the center of the aisle, chest rising and falling with every trembling breath. His voice broke the silence.
“I object.”
Gasps erupted. The court exploded into whispers of scandal and outrage. But Arnold didn’t look at them. He only looked at you. His voice softened—dangerously, achingly.
“I object… because I am the one who loves her.”
More voices shouted—your fiancé, the advisors, the nobles—chaos rising like a storm. But Arnold raised his voice above all of them, raw and desperate..
“And she… she is the woman I cannot live without.”
Your fiancé stepped toward him. “Knight Hein, stand down or be arrested.”
Arnold barely acknowledged him. He lifted his chin, eyes blazing with the kind of determination that could bring kingdoms to their knees.
“Then arrest me,” he murmured.. “But I will not let her be forced into this marriage.”
The hall froze again as the weight of those words settled. And then—Arnold extended his hand to you. A single, trembling question in his eyes.
“My princess… come with me.”