[Lavinia’s POV — Everheart Estate Courtyard—Minutes Later]
Cold night air slapped against my cheeks the mont the doors slamd shut behind us. The courtyard was quiet. Too quiet.
The distant music from the hall had collapsed into a confused lull—nobles whispering, scrambling to rearrange their pride and hierarchy.
Sir Haldor walked beside , silent... and oddly rigid. His hand was still in mine.
I stopped.
Only then did he seem to realize it—he imdiately released my hand and bowed so fast his cape nearly hit the gravel.
"Forgive , Your Highness. I did not intend to—"
I sighed through my nose. "Haldor, if you apologize one more ti tonight, I swear I’ll throw you into that fountain."
I sighed through my nose. "Haldor, if you apologize one more ti tonight, I swear I’ll throw you into that fountain."
He blinked once. Expressionless. Then casually glanced at the fountain... and back at .
"...Forgive , Your Highness," he said calmly, "but I don’t think you can."
. . .
. . .
I stared at him.
"...What?"
Still monotone. Still emotionless. "I do not believe you possess the physical capability to lift and throw into that fountain, Your Highness."
Marshi chuffed at my side, which felt dangerously close to laughter.
My eyelid twitched. "...Sir Haldor."
"Yes, Your Highness?"
"That was a joke, right?"
He paused for an uncomfortably long ti. "It was intended to make you laugh, Your Highness," he said at last. "I believe I failed."
Silence descended. A very painful, awkward, silent void. And then—
"Pfft—!!"
I doubled forward and covered my face, laughter bursting from sowhere I didn’t know was holding breath.
Haldor blinked. "Ah. I suppose... it was successful after all."
"Ha—hahahahaha—!!" I wheezed. "Sir Haldor, when you make a joke—at least have an expression!"
He tilted his head faintly. "Smiling while delivering humor weakens the blow, Your Highness. Elent of surprise."
"ELENT OF—?!" I almost choked. "Who trained you? A cody assassin?!"
Marshi flopped onto the stones, paws in the air, tail thumping in what suspiciously resembled amusent.
Haldor crossed his arms behind his back. "Besides... I am already aware Your Highness cannot throw . Your arms are—"
He paused. Looked dead in the eye.
"...too delicate."
My jaw dropped. "You—! Were you about to say too weak?!"
"Delicate sounded safer, Your Highness." Still monotone. Still deadpan.
I stared.He stared.Marshi stared—with a judgntal feline squint.
"Sir Haldor," I whispered slowly, "you are terrifying when you try to be funny."
His mouth twitched. Just barely. "It still works, Your Highness."
... And despite myself, I smiled. Just a little. Like tension leaving a blade after war. I exhaled—a soft sigh I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. The anger that had coiled in my spine slowly unwound, slipping into sothing calr... warr.
I stepped forward and settled onto the stone edge of the fountain, the cool marble pressing against my palms. Moonlight rippled over the water, shattering into silver threads.
"Let’s wait for Papa," I murmured, watching the tiny waves dance. "He must be coming soon."
"Yes, Your Highness."
He didn’t sit. Of course he didn’t. Instead, he took his place beside —back straight, shoulders firm, hands folded behind him. A shadow sculpted by discipline.
The perfect knight.
"Are you happy, Sir Haldor?" I asked quietly.
He turned his head, studying . Really looking.
Then, softly: "...I am indebted for a lifeti, Your Highness."
I blinked, taken off guard.
The wind curled around us, tugging gently at my golden hair. His reflection shimred in the fountain’s surface—dark uniform, silver trim, the gleam of steel, and eyes... softer than I’d ever seen them.
"No one," he continued, voice low, raw in a way it never dared be indoors, "has ever stood for ."
Sothing shifted in my chest.
"I was taught only to bow," he said, gaze dropping to the water. "Bow to titles. Bow to nas. Bow to those who stand above . That was my worth. I was nothing but a bug stomped under the noble shoes."
His jaw tightened, a flicker of old pain crossing his eyes like a ghost.
"But today... for the first ti..." His voice dropped to sothing almost fragile. "...soone stood because I bowed."
Our eyes t—blue and crimson—reflected together in cold silver water.
"She stirred the entire Empire with her voice," he whispered. "And that was you, Your Highness."
My breath caught.
Slowly—very slowly—he lowered himself. One knee touched the ground. Moonlight caught on the edge of his ceremonial sword. His black hair shimred silver beneath the night sky, and when he looked up...
His blue eyes were steady. Fierce. Alive. He placed his fist to his chest—the knight’s oath.
"I promise to stay," he said, his voice carrying across the silent courtyard, "and serve you until the very end."
His head bowed—not out of fear, but devotion.
"If you will allow it..." He lifted his gaze, eting mine fully. "...grant the honor of standing at your side."
The fountain’s water rippled—as if even it held its breath. My heart gave one silent, traitorous beat. Because kneeling before wasn’t the act of a servant.
It was loyalty choosing as its north star.
It wasn’t the first ti soone had knelt before . Osric had sworn, generals had pledged, and advisors had vowed loyalty.
But this—This was the first ti soone knelt not to die for ...but to live with on the battlefield of destiny.
"Sir Haldor," I asked quietly, "are you not swearing to die for ?"
He looked up—eyes steady, blue like tempered steel.
"Dying," he said calmly, "is the knight’s final weakness, Your Highness."
My breath stilled.
"The strongest knight," he continued, "is the one who can remain at his ruler’s side—through every storm, through every war... until the last breath leaves their world."
He swallowed, emotion flickering like shadow under moonlight.
"And I wish," his voice softened, "to be that knight for you. Not as a sword thrown into danger... but as a shield that never leaves your back. Just as Sir Ravick stands by His Majesty."
For a heartbeat, the courtyard changed.
The wind hushed. The marble felt warr beneath my hand. And sowhere above, the sky parted just enough to reveal streaks of drifting silver—
Shooting stars.
Almost impossibly tid. It felt like the moon god had paused, the spirits leaned in, and the earth exhaled.
My throat tightened.
"...Stand," I said gently.
He rose slowly—not breaking eye contact, not breaking vow. The moonlight caught on his hair again, on the promise settled in his gaze.
"Then, Sir Haldor..." I extended my hand—never offered lightly. "... Never speak to die for ."
His eyes widened, just slightly.
"Let us live," I breathed, "until the very end. Until the last dusk of our story. Together."
The word together hung in the air—soft, dangerous, powerful.
Above us, the night seed to ripple. Starlight stirred, shimring as though sothing ancient had just been written into the sky. As if the heavens themselves paused... and approved.
As if fate tightened its threads.
A destiny sealed quietly in moonlight—between a Crown Princess and the Knight who chose to stand, not die, at her side.
And for the first ti since I’d known him, his expression cracked. A faint, rare—almost disbelieving—smile curved the corners of his mouth.
Not for duty.Not out of obligation.
But because soone had chosen him back.
"Then," he murmured, voice barely above the water’s whisper, "I will stand. Through crown and storm. Through peace and blade. Until the last page turns."
A vow of life—not sacrifice.
Before I could speak, a familiar voice cut gently through the quiet:
"For that... you will need to grow stronger, Haldor."
We turned. Papa and Ravick strode toward us, steps asured, silhouettes crowned by moonlight.
Haldor bowed instinctively. "Your Majesty."
I blinked at Papa, confused. "Stronger? Papa, Sir Haldor is already very strong. He’s the only person in the Empire excited for war."
Haldor flinched, mortified.
I smiled.
Papa only sighed, sothing like amusent tugging at his mouth. "Yes. But excitent is not strength."
"What do you an Papa?"
He stepped closer, fingers tilting my chin up, his thumb brushing my cheek with a tenderness he’d deny in daylight.
"You will be the strongest Empress this Empire has ever seen, Lavinia. But a ruler sits comfortably on her throne not because she is strong..." He looked at Haldor—sharp, assessing.
"...but because the ones beside her are as unbreakable as she is."
Papa’s gaze returned to , ember-bright. "You were never raised to bow. You were raised to cut the head off anything that tried to force you down."
His voice dropped, steel hidden beneath velvet.
"Haldor, however... was raised to kneel."
Haldor stiffened, jaw clenching.
Papa’s eyes hardened. "So you will unlearn it. Your emotions will begin at my daughter... and end at my daughter. Outside of that?" He leaned in, voice lowering to frost. "Show rcy to no one."
The courtyard seed to exhale. Papa flicked his gaze toward Ravick.
"When people hear your na, they should tremble," Papa continued. "Not gossip. Fear."
Ravick’s expression didn’t change, but his presence sharpened like a drawn blade.
"You have a long road ahead," Papa added. "Strength is not forged only at the border. Battles are fought behind these gilded walls—where smiles are knives, and silence is poison."
He turned his back, cloak whispering across stone.
"Learn. Grow teeth. The throne you protect is made of blades."
Ravick followed, boots echoing like a countdown. I watched them go, moonlight stirring across the stone, and felt the weight of sothing vast tighten around the three of us.
Duty.
Destiny.
And an oath spoken under starlight.
Beside , Haldor swallowed quietly—his hand over his heart, eyes steady on the Carriage door where Papa disappeared.
"I understand," he whispered.
The fountain rippled.
The stars watched.
And the night closed like a promise.
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