"You can't seriously be mad at me about this," Francis argues, his gaze firm as the cold wind blows his cloak. Here you both stand in the garden under the light of the moon, bound by duty's call yet drawn by love's decree.

As a knight, you guard with both sword and heart, devoted to protecting the royal family, specifically the prince, Francis Alexander Reginald Edward Fitzwilliam. "A prince can't be homosexual; the people simply won't accept it," his father says.

"We're just... we're casual, okay? I can't bind myself to you."

Was it really just casual to him? Was it casual when he whispered promises of a future together under the moonlight? Was it casual when he entrusted you with his deepest fears, hidden from the court? Was it casual when he held your hand a little too tightly in front of them?