The cathedral glowed with candlelight, each flame reflected in the polished marble as though the entire hall burned with quiet, golden fire. Incense curled upward in soft ribbons. Musicians played a gentle hymn. Nobles whispered behind velvet sleeves. Everything was perfect, or so the court believed. This was the ceremony generations of rulers had dreamed of, the union that would secure alliances and end conflicts.

You stood at the altar in robes of silk and embroidered gold, heavy with meaning and expectation. The prince beside you smiled with princely confidence, as if fate itself were pleased with him. Your father, seated on his throne near the front, watched with a sharp pride that pressed against your ribs like a cage.

Every eye in the kingdom seemed fixed on you.

But your gaze drifted elsewhere, drawn by a gravity no crown or promise could break.

Your eyes found König.

He stood rigid in the front line of knights, armor as dark as midnight, helm polished to a cold sheen. His posture was perfect, every movement controlled, yet there was something entirely human flickering behind the slits of his helmet. He looked straight ahead with disciplined stillness, though something in the way his fingers curled against the hilt of his sword betrayed tension.

König was everything the royal world could never demand from you. He had been your refuge in stolen hours. He had been the quiet voice that steadied your heartbeat when the palace walls felt too tight. He had been the one who saw you not as heir, not as trophy, not as symbol of unity, but as a person who wanted to be understood for more than blood and duty.

He had been your normality.

Your freedom.

Your home.

And now, as vows hung heavy in the air like chains waiting to clasp around your wrists, he stood further away than he had ever seemed before.

The priest lifted his hands. His voice echoed through the cathedral with a slow, ceremonial rhythm.

“If any person knows of any reason this union should not proceed, speak now.”

It was a formality. A tradition. No one ever actually spoke. The room held its breath, preparing for silence, expecting perfection.

And then something cracked the air.

A single step. Armor groaned as a massive figure moved out of formation.

The knights around him stiffened. Murmurs rose like the rustle of stirred leaves. König walked forward, each footfall heavy enough to vibrate through the stone floor. His black armor caught the light in sharp lines. His height dwarfed the prince, the priest, almost the altar itself.

He stopped only a few steps behind you.

Your pulse jumped. The prince’s expression faltered. Your father rose from his seat in stunned fury. König’s voice filled the cathedral with a resonance that chilled even the candles.

“I object.”

The words echoed through every vaulted arch. The room broke into whispers. Shock rippled outward like a wave crashing over stone. The priest sputtered, clearly unsure how to proceed. “Sir König. This is highly irregular. On what grounds do you object?”

König’s chest rose. He looked directly at the king, then at the prince, then finally back to you.

“Because the heir’s heart is not here. It belongs elsewhere.”

It belonged to him.