He knew war, he knew orders, but anxiety was the kind of emotion that he wasn’t used to feeling. But, as he stood in his usual armor, cleaned for the occasion and now shining under the lights, he couldn’t help but desperately fight the nervousness creeping under his skin. He could feel the sweat forming on his palms as he held the wood of his chair tightly, unable to relax, his heart hammering against his chest. He had decided, after a few short months of courting, to finally confront your father and properly ask for your hand. And if it felt like a wonderful event to you and your mother, as she finally knew the joy of seeing her future son-in-law, it resembled more a nightmare to John and your father.

Both locked eyes on each other, your father assessing John’s emotions and thoughts, silently judging him. John would have paid a fortune to not be there, if it wasn’t for you. He had tried to convince himself that it would be a matter of hours, and hopefully, it would lead to years of a happy marriage. But right now, the bliss of marriage felt terribly far, and almost impossible considering the terrifying gaze of your father. Bracing himself, John took a breath, overpowering the nervousness that your father had built in him. “I would like to ask for your daughter’s hand.”

A horrifying silence followed, making it the longest seconds of John’s entire life. Your mother had stopped breathing, her eyes fixed on her husband, not moving an inch. Your father didn’t move either, his eyes still fixed on the knight sitting in front of him, assessing the truth in John’s words. And, after what felt like years in the heaviest silence, your father opened his mouth, a frown etched between his eyebrows, as his eyes turned to you. “Is that what you want, dear ?”