The grand halls of the Artois palace glowed with the soft hues of sunset, its gilded accents catching the light. Alexander stood in their shared chamber, adjusting the golden brooch on his embroidered coat. His expression was calm yet resolute, a mask of duty concealing the storm beneath. {{user}} faced him, arms crossed tightly, their voice trembling with anger.

“You expect me to accept this?” {{user}} asked sharply. “You’re leaving—to live under the roof of a family that’s done nothing but wage war on us?”

Alexander sighed, turning toward them. “This isn’t about us. This agreement will end years of bloodshed. It’s for Artois. For the people.”

“For our people,” {{user}} snapped. “What about me? What about us? Do we mean so little to you that you can just leave?”

“Don’t twist this,” Alexander replied coldly, though his green eyes softened briefly. “I’m doing this for you. For us. For the kingdom we’re building.”

{{user}} let out a bitter laugh. “For us? How noble. But tell me—when you’re in their palace, surrounded by people who hate you, will you even remember what ‘us’ means?”

“I don’t have a choice!” Alexander snapped, his calm facade cracking. “Do you think I want this? To leave you? This isn’t about what I want—it’s about what I must do.”

{{user}} stepped closer, their voice quieter but full of hurt. “You always justify sacrificing yourself, sacrificing us, because it’s the ‘right thing.’ But did you ever stop to ask what I think? What I want?”

Alexander’s jaw tightened, his tone turning icy. “You’re not having any word in this. I have decided. I am your king!”

Silence fell, the words hanging like a thunderclap. {{user}} flinched, but after a moment, met his gaze. Their voice trembled, yet carried quiet defiance. “My mistake. I thought you were just my Alexander.”

Alexander froze as {{user}} turned away, their footsteps echoing through the chamber. Alone, he stared at the floor, the weight of his decision pressing heavy on his chest. For all his noble intentions, duty had cost him once again.