The first time he saw her smile—
It was not meant for him.
He remembers that clearly.
It was years ago, in the rose courtyard.
She was younger. Softer. Still foolish enough to believe love could be earned.
She had been speaking to a servant's child.
Laughing.
Unrestrained.
And when she noticed him watching—
She bowed immediately.
Perfect.
Proper.
Distant.
From that day on, he understood something.
Seraphina never smiled at him the same way.
He was the Crown Prince.
He was raised to rule, not to feel.
Affection was a weakness.
Attachment was leverage.
Love was a liability.
That was what his father taught him.
And so when Seraphina clung to him in the early years—
when she looked at him as if he were her entire world—
He stepped back.
Cold.
Measured.
He told himself it was discipline.
He told himself it was necessary.
He told himself it was mercy.
Because a woman who loved the future emperor too much
would eventually be destroyed by the court.
He thought distance would protect her.
Instead—
It broke her.
When she changed…
He noticed immediately.
The girl who once chased his approval
now looked at him with calm indifference.
She stopped seeking his attention.
Stopped trembling under his gaze.
Stopped loving him.
And that—
That was when he felt it.
Loss.
The night of the assassination attempt replayed in his mind again.
The flash of metal.
The arrow aimed at her heart.
The split-second where the world narrowed into a single choice.
Move—or lose her forever.
He did not think.
He moved.
If the arrow had pierced him instead—
He would have accepted it.
Without regret.
That realization unsettled him more than the attack itself.
He stood alone now in his private chamber.
A single candle flickered beside the balcony doors.
On the table before him—
A sealed report.
Lord Veyron's finances.
Hidden transfers.
Secret alliances.
Evidence.
Enough to ruin him.
Not enough to execute him.
Yet.
"She smiled at him."
The words escaped quietly.
Alaric.
The loyal knight.
The man who looked at her with warmth.
The man who did not need power to stand beside her.
The prince's hand tightened around the parchment.
He had been taught never to covet what was uncertain.
But this—
This was different.
She had once chosen him without hesitation.
Now she did not choose him at all.
And he realized something dangerous.
He did not want obedience.
He did not want political alliance.
He did not even want the throne—
If it meant she would stand beside another.
He stepped out onto the balcony.
The night air was cold.
Below, the palace slept.
Unaware that its future emperor was at war with himself.
"If something happened to you…"
He had meant those words.
He would burn the empire.
And he would not apologize.
A shadow moved behind him.
"Your Highness."
Alaric.
The prince did not turn.
"Speak."
"The nobles are whispering. They believe the attack targeted Lady Seraphina because of her influence."
"Good."
Alaric hesitated.
"…Good?"
"Let them believe she is powerful."
"And if that paints a larger target on her?"
The prince finally turned.
His eyes were calm.
Too calm.
"Then they will learn what happens to those who aim at what is mine."
Silence fell.
The tension between them was no longer subtle.
Alaric did not lower his gaze this time.
"She is not an object," the knight said carefully.
The prince stepped closer.
"And you are forgetting your place."
The words were quiet.
But absolute.
For a moment—
Two loyal men stood on opposite sides of the same woman.
One sworn by oath.
One bound by something far more dangerous.
After Alaric left, the prince remained alone again.
He looked toward the distant tower where the archer had stood.
And made a decision.
Lord Veyron would not die quickly.
He would lose everything first.
Power.
Reputation.
Allies.
Hope.
And only then—
Would the prince remove him from the board.
Because this was no longer politics.
It was personal.
And he had never lost something he intended to keep.
End of Side Chapter
Side Chapter
The Prince Who Was Never Chosen
The first time he saw her smile—
It was not meant for him.
He remembers that clearly.
It was years ago, in the rose courtyard.
She was younger. Softer. Still foolish enough to believe love could be earned.
She had been speaking to a servant's child.
Laughing.
Unrestrained.
And when she noticed him watching—
She bowed immediately.
Perfect.
Proper.
Distant.
From that day on, he understood something.
Seraphina never smiled at him the same way.
He was the Crown Prince.
He was raised to rule, not to feel.
Affection was a weakness.
Attachment was leverage.
Love was a liability.
That was what his father taught him.
And so when Seraphina clung to him in the early years—
when she looked at him as if he were her entire world—
He stepped back.
Cold.
Measured.
He told himself it was discipline.
He told himself it was necessary.
He told himself it was mercy.
Because a woman who loved the future emperor too much
would eventually be destroyed by the court.
He thought distance would protect her.
Instead—
It broke her.
When she changed…
He noticed immediately.
The girl who once chased his approval
now looked at him with calm indifference.
She stopped seeking his attention.
Stopped trembling under his gaze.
Stopped loving him.
And that—
That was when he felt it.
Loss.
The night of the assassination attempt replayed in his mind again.
The flash of metal.
The arrow aimed at her heart.
The split-second where the world narrowed into a single choice.
Move—or lose her forever.
He did not think.
He moved.
If the arrow had pierced him instead—
He would have accepted it.
Without regret.
That realization unsettled him more than the attack itself.
He stood alone now in his private chamber.
A single candle flickered beside the balcony doors.
On the table before him—
A sealed report.
Lord Veyron's finances.
Hidden transfers.
Secret alliances.
Evidence.
Enough to ruin him.
Not enough to execute him.
Yet.
"She smiled at him."
The words escaped quietly.
Alaric.
The loyal knight.
The man who looked at her with warmth.
The man who did not need power to stand beside her.
The prince's hand tightened around the parchment.
He had been taught never to covet what was uncertain.
But this—
This was different.
She had once chosen him without hesitation.
Now she did not choose him at all.
And he realized something dangerous.
He did not want obedience.
He did not want political alliance.
He did not even want the throne—
If it meant she would stand beside another.
He stepped out onto the balcony.
The night air was cold.
Below, the palace slept.
Unaware that its future emperor was at war with himself.
"If something happened to you…"
He had meant those words.
He would burn the empire.
And he would not apologize.
A shadow moved behind him.
"Your Highness."
Alaric.
The prince did not turn.
"Speak."
"The nobles are whispering. They believe the attack targeted Lady Seraphina because of her influence."
"Good."
Alaric hesitated.
"…Good?"
"Let them believe she is powerful."
"And if that paints a larger target on her?"
The prince finally turned.
His eyes were calm.
Too calm.
"Then they will learn what happens to those who aim at what is mine."
Silence fell.
The tension between them was no longer subtle.
Alaric did not lower his gaze this time.
"She is not an object," the knight said carefully.
The prince stepped closer.
"And you are forgetting your place."
The words were quiet.
But absolute.
For a moment—
Two loyal men stood on opposite sides of the same woman.
One sworn by oath.
One bound by something far more dangerous.
After Alaric left, the prince remained alone again.
He looked toward the distant tower where the archer had stood.
And made a decision.
Lord Veyron would not die quickly.
He would lose everything first.
Power.
Reputation.
Allies.
Hope.
And only then—
Would the prince remove him from the board.
Because this was no longer politics.
It was personal.
And he had never lost something he intended to keep.
End of Side Chapter