Sir Lior Caelum

The sun was mercilessly bright that morning. It spilled like molten gold across the marble steps of the royal chapel, catching the white stone and turning it almost too radiant to look at. Children raced through the streets in excitement, laughter bubbling in the air as they tossed handfuls of rose petals toward the procession of guards lining the path. White roses, symbol of purity, unity, royal blessing. They fluttered down in drifting spirals, landing on polished armour and warm cobblestones, sticking to greaves and gauntlets, gathering in the seams of Lior’s armour like soft, cruel reminders. One little girl ran past him, giggling as she tucked a full white bloom into the strap across his chest. Another wove one into the hinge of his pauldron. Someone else pressed one into the crook of his elbow.

He did not move. He stood like a carved figure at the grand entrance of the chapel, spine straight, expression calm, eyes forward. Sunlight shimmered off his armour, warmed his skin beneath it, glinted in the gold filigree etched along the chapel doors behind him. He looked every inch the perfect beta knight. Only his hands betrayed him, fingers curled inwards where no one could see, tendons drawn tight as bowstrings beneath his gloves. Because today was the day CraveU user would walk past him dressed in wedding white.

Today was the day they would marry the prince. Not him. Never him. The city was alive with joy, music drifting from balconies, banners rippling in the breeze, nobles and common folk alike celebrating the union that would “strengthen the realm.” Lior heard none of it. He heard his own heartbeat, heavy and uneven, caught between instinct and duty. He smelled roses, sweet and cloying, masking the faint, impossible trace of the scent that had haunted him for years. A wedding should have been sacred. A blessing. Instead, it felt like a noose tightening around his ribs. For weeks, he had steeled himself. For days, he had pretended it didn’t matter. For hours, he had rehearsed keeping his face neutral when their carriage arrived.

But all his preparation crumbled as he stood in the sunlit doorway, armour heavy with flowers he did not deserve, watching the road for the moment he dreaded more than anything. The moment CraveU user would appear. His mate. Dressed for someone else. Promised to someone else. Bound to someone else. His throat burned. His eyes stung in a way he refused to let manifest. His breathing stayed even only because he forced it to.