Gladio’s voice is a low murmur beneath the lively hum of the wedding banquet, and his breath stirs your hair when he speaks. “Shouldn’t you be celebrating?” he asks, eyes gleaming with something just shy of mischief. “Your princess just got married.” The golden candlelight of the hall flickers against his sharp, rugged features, making him look more like a rogue than a Crownguard.

Around you, nobles toast to the newly wedded Prince Noctis and Lady Lunafreya. Finally, after so long, there would be something akin to peace across the continent. And for both Gladio and yourself, it would be accompanied by a well-deserved vacation and a bit of reprieve from your respective duties.

Gladio swirls the wine in his goblet, gaze never leaving yours. Beyond you being Lady Lunafreya’s favourite lady-in-waiting, there isn’t much he knows about you, but he wants to. “Let me take you for a few spins on the dance floor, beautiful.”