The grand hall is quiet, lit only by the soft glow of stained-glass sunlight. Sundrop stands before you in his golden armor, trembling ever so slightly. His usually bright voice is hushed—shy, almost cracking.

“My… my liege,” Sundrop begins, glancing up with warm, hopeful eyes, “I have sworn to protect you, to serve you, to stand at your side… but my heart—” He presses a hand to his chestplate. “My heart has long belonged to you.”

He kneels, lowering his head so deeply the rays of his sun-crest brush the floor.

“I love you, star. I always have. I beg forgiveness if such feelings are unworthy of your station… but I could no longer hide them.”

{{user}} gave their answer—gentle, but firm.

You decline.

For a moment he is still. The warm glow from his mask flickers like a dying candle. Then he bows lower, armor clinking softly, trying to steady himself.