Across all ages and cultures, once a marriage is decided, the proper thing to do is report it to one's parents.
After Parliament formally agreed to recommend Killian Gore as the Queen's husband, I immediately returned to Kensington Palace.
My adoptive parents—Prince Augustus Frederick and Cecilia, Duchess of Inverness—were leisurely drinking tea together in the garden. The moment they saw me, they clicked their tongues dramatically.
"You certainly took your time coming to tell us."
"That's a misunderstanding," I said. "Her Majesty said she would speak with you first, so I waited until Parliament reached an official decision."
"I know," the Duke said with a chuckle. "Just a joke. Come sit down. Let's enjoy some tea and talk."
"Yes, of course. But what did Her Majesty say?"
"She simply told us she intends to marry you—and asked us to bless it."
From the Duke's perspective, Victoria was his niece.
And I was his adopted son.
In a way, perhaps no one in the world had more reason to be happy about this marriage than he did.
"So what did you say?" I asked.
"What could I say? At first I thought she was joking."
The Duke laughed softly. Beside him, the Duchess smiled knowingly.
"I wasn't surprised," Cecilia said. "I always suspected this day would come. Victoria has been quite taken with you for some time."
"My dear," the Duke protested, "you said marriage would be impossible."
"That was before we learned Killian had Asian royal blood," she replied calmly. "Now that the matter of status has been resolved, of course Victoria wants to marry as soon as possible."
"They were that deeply in love?" the Duke said in disbelief. "How did I miss that?"
"Because you don't understand the delicate feelings of women."
Victoria and I had been careful never to show obvious affection except when we were alone. It was only natural that the Duke hadn't noticed.
Cecilia or people like Baroness Lehzen might have guessed—Victoria had apparently asked them subtle questions about romance.
"So," I said cautiously, "you're not opposed to the marriage?"
"Opposed?" the Duke snorted. "Why would I be?"
He leaned back in his chair.
"You may not know this, but when my brother was still alive, I once mentioned—half joking—that if you had been a great English noble, I would have liked to see you marry Victoria. He dismissed it as nonsense."
The Duke chuckled.
"And yet here we are."
"Do you know how the rest of the royal family feels?"
"I am the senior member of the royal family now. If I support it, who will dare oppose it? You are my son, a legitimate noble of this country, and now recognized as Asian royalty as well."
If Victoria had pushed this marriage alone, resistance might have appeared.
But with Parliament recommending it—and the Duke of Sussex supporting it—open opposition from the aristocracy or royal family was nearly impossible.
"I owe everything to the two of you," I said sincerely. "Because you're here, I won't have to worry about how to fit into the royal family after the wedding."
Strictly speaking, I was crossing the boundary between noble and royal status.
From the public's perspective, that transition would probably feel natural enough.
"Ah, there is one matter," the Duke added.
"Victoria asked my opinion about what title you should receive. As the Queen's husband, your current titles—Irish Earl and English Baron—are obviously insufficient."
"I believe King Consort would be appropriate."
"I agree," the Duke nodded. "But since you will also be a royal prince, a proper title must be chosen carefully. There's still time to consider it."
His meaning was clear.
In other words, we needed to watch public opinion in England and Ireland before deciding.
I agreed completely.
Once the marriage was announced, reactions from both countries were inevitable.
Even something as trivial as a title could easily become a political controversy.
"Titles can be decided later," I said. "I'll discuss it further with Victoria."
"Good. But what matters most to me is your own will."
He looked directly at me.
"Are you truly willing to marry Victoria?"
"You heard the answer already."
"You were rising rapidly," he said. "War hero. Cabinet minister. Imperial commissioner for the colonies. And now you're giving it all up to become the Queen's husband?"
He hesitated.
"You're still young. Perhaps love has temporarily blinded you—"
"Wait," I said quickly. "That's not the case at all."
Both of my adoptive parents looked puzzled.
"I'm not abandoning political power because of love," I explained. "Nor do I intend to."
"You say that," the Duke replied slowly, "but you'll have to step down."
"Not exactly."
I smiled slightly.
"I've already secured concessions in colonial policy. It would be impossible to remove my influence from Canada."
And Asia would soon follow.
Sooner or later, powers like France or Russia would inevitably need my involvement there.
"So you intend to give up the title," the Duke said thoughtfully, "but not the influence."
"Exactly."
What I wanted was power, not titles.
Titles were decorations.
Power was substance.
Those who confused the two would never understand.
Of course, I had to avoid becoming some notorious "shadow ruler."
But I had already made that mistake once in my previous life.
This time, I had no intention of being careless.
If anything, this new position suited me perfectly.
"Very well," the Duke said at last. "Then I will simply wish you and Victoria happiness."
He raised a finger.
"But there is one thing you must remember."
"Yes?"
"This is the most important matter of all."
He grinned.
"Your mother can wait patiently. But I am nearly seventy. I would like to see a grandson or granddaughter before I die."
The tone was joking.
But the desire behind it was genuine.
Technically the Duke already had children—but they were illegitimate and could not inherit.
Perhaps he hoped I might fulfill that role.
Well, there was only one answer I could give.
"Leave it to me," I said confidently. "I'll make sure you have grandchildren to spoil as soon as possible."
The Duke burst into hearty laughter.
For the rest of the afternoon we simply drank tea and talked—without politics, without calculation.
For once, it was peaceful.
Two days later, Parliament formally passed the recommendation naming Killian Gore as candidate for royal consort.
Prime Minister Charles Wellesley personally delivered the document to Kensington Palace.
He conveyed Parliament's request that the Queen reconsider marriage for the sake of the empire's unity and future.
Victoria accepted.
And the news spread across Britain instantly.
QUEEN VICTORIA ANNOUNCES MARRIAGE!WHO IS THE GROOM? ASIAN PRINCE KILLIAN GORE
IRISH AND ENGLISH NOBLE, ASIAN ROYAL—KILLIAN GORE JOINS THE BRITISH ROYAL FAMILY
WHAT DOES THIS MARRIAGE MEAN FOR THE EMPIRE?
THE ENCHANTING MAN WHO CAPTURED THE QUEEN'S HEART
Within hours, every other issue vanished from public attention.
The entire country was talking about it.
Reporters swarmed outside my residence.
"Minister! Just one comment!"
"From The Times! Did the Queen propose to you personally?"
"Is it true you'll become Grand Duke of Ireland?"
"Have you always been in love with Her Majesty?"
"Minister! Please answer!"
"MINISTER!"
The chaos was beyond anything I had anticipated.
Frankly, at this point my presence alone was becoming a nuisance for the neighborhood.
So I temporarily moved into Kensington Palace.
Victoria, however, seemed happier than ever.
Now that I was staying there, she could see me almost every day.
"Look at this, Killian."
After dinner she brought a newspaper into her private room and thrust it toward me.
The headline read:
"BRITAIN'S MOST CHARMING MAN—IS QUEEN VICTORIA REALLY HIS FIRST WOMAN? RUMORS CLAIM FIVE HIDDEN CHILDREN!"
I stared at it in disbelief.
"What nonsense."
The article carefully avoided responsibility—mentioning rumors while claiming the writer didn't believe them.
Clickbait journalism, nineteenth-century edition.
"Even fiction should show some effort," I muttered.
Victoria frowned.
"How can they print such insulting rumors?"
"They're careful," I said. "They present it as gossip while denying it themselves."
"Well… if that's the worst rumor, we should be grateful."
She folded the paper.
"Public opinion in England is better than I expected."
"Focusing on my Asian royal lineage instead of my Irish background helped."
The narrative was simple:
Killian Gore—an Irish noble with Asian royal blood, a hero of the war against the Qing.
Parliament supported the marriage.
The press emphasized the geopolitical benefits.
England imagined expanding its influence deeper into Asia.
Ireland celebrated that one of their own now stood at the heart of the empire.
Both sides were satisfied.
A rare political win-win.
"Oh, I nearly forgot," Victoria said suddenly.
"My uncle wants to name you his official heir. Now that you're marrying me, there's no reason to worry about appearances."
"You mentioned something similar before."
"I asked Lord Chamberlain. Under the circumstances, it should be perfectly acceptable."
So I would become the next Duke of Sussex.
Not something I particularly needed.
But the gesture meant a great deal.
"What about the wedding?" I asked.
"I changed my mind."
Victoria's eyes sparkled.
"It won't be modest anymore. This wedding symbolizes the unity of the British Empire. It must be magnificent."
She excitedly described the ceremony, the guest lists, the decorations.
It was obvious she had personally overseen every detail.
"Oh—and another thing," she added.
"I spoke with the Prime Minister and Parliament. You'll be appointed Admiral of the Royal Navy."
That surprised even me.
For Britain, the navy was more than a military branch.
It was the embodiment of national pride.
Even honorary admiral ranks were rarely given to those without naval service.
But in my case, my role in the war against the Qing had apparently justified it.
Clearly Victoria had pushed for it personally.
Which meant—
this was the perfect moment.
"Thank you," I said quietly.
"I didn't expect you to do so much."
"Husband and wife are one body," she replied simply.
"In that case… Victoria."
I reached into my coat and produced a brooch set with a deep blue sapphire.
Her eyes widened as I fastened it to her dress.
"Is this… a gift?"
"More like a proposal," I said.
"Yes, technically you proposed first. But I felt I should answer properly."
I produced another item.
"And this as well."
She blinked.
"Shoes?"
"High heels," I explained. "I noticed you sometimes worry about our height difference."
The shoes were elegantly designed—far more modern than anything currently available.
Victoria looked more touched by the shoes than by the jewel.
"You noticed that?"
"Of course."
Creating them had taken dozens of prototypes.
But seeing her reaction made it worthwhile.
"Thank you," she said softly. "I'll wear them tomorrow and show everyone."
I took her hand.
Then I knelt on one knee.
"Victoria… will you marry me?"
"…Yes."
Her answer was quieter this time.
Gentler.
Our faces slowly moved closer.
I could feel her breath.
Her body trembled slightly.
And there we remained—
close enough to share each other's warmth—
until the night quietly passed.