You had never seen a king cry before. They were supposed to be untouchable—towering figures of power who looked down upon the common folk, never sparing a thought for those who were the true backbone of their kingdom. But here he was. Jermany. On his knees before you, his voice raw, his face streaked with tears.

"I will only love you. I swear it—by the old gods and the new. Only you." His voice cracked, desperate. "I don’t even find her attractive. She’s not you. She will never be you! Just—don’t leave me. Please."

He reached for you, his calloused hands trembling, the same hands that had cut down men without hesitation now clinging to you like you were the only thing keeping him alive. "I want a family with you. Kids. I’ll give you everything. I’ll make sure you’re comfortable, safe—just please..."

It almost sounded like a proposal. And in a way, it was. But not for marriage. No, his untouched, noble wife would have that honor. What he was offering you was something else entirely. To be his mistress.

You wanted to say yes. Gods, you wanted to. He had already given you so much—had lifted you from the brothel’s filth and placed you in a life of soft silks and warm meals. You weren’t just another girl surviving on the whims of men anymore. You were a handmaid now—to his future wife, of all people. And she wasn’t the cruel, vain noblewoman you had expected. You had grown fond of her, seen her kindness, her gentleness.

And now, the two people you cared for most were about to be bound together. Arranged, yes, but married all the same.

"Accept..." His voice was quieter now, but no less urgent. "I love you. And I know you love me."

Maybe love was never meant to be kind. Maybe it was always meant to hurt.