Wellesley's eyes shimmered with tears, her lips parted as though trying to form words, but nothing came. Her silence, however, was louder than anything she could have spoken. I watched her quietly, my heart tightening at the raw emotion on her face.
Trying to lighten the moment, I quirked a playful smile. "Hey Wellesley, why are you crying? I don't look that bad, do I? Well, whether you admit it or not, I'm definitely better-looking than most guys out there. And hey—look—I do have some money. Don't tell me you're disappointed in becoming the wife of a prince. If that's the case, don't worry—I'll make you a queen someday."
Wellesley blinked rapidly, tears threatening to spill. She reached up and gently pressed a finger to my lips.
"Shhh," she whispered with a soft chuckle. "I didn't know my prince could talk so much. You're always so quiet and brooding. But I... I'm just happy you asked me."
The smile she gave me in that moment lit up her entire face. It wasn't just joy—it was love, pure and unfiltered. Unable to resist, I leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the finger still resting against my lips. Her ears turned crimson at the gesture.
"Are you ready to marry me now, or should I take that smile as a maybe?" I teased gently.
She nodded, her voice steady now. "I will marry you. But... a wedding like this... are you sure we can prepare everything in time?"
"You think I'd ask you to marry me without making preparations first?" I raised an eyebrow with a hint of pride.
"No, absolutely not. I've already arranged everything. There's a boutique nearby—I've had a dress made for you. Arslan will take you there. I discussed all the details with the seamstress. Try the dress on. If you don't like it, there's still time for adjustments—or even a new one. And once you're done, Arslan will bring you to me. I'll be waiting."
She stared at me, stunned. "You... you picked a dress for me?"
I shrugged, waving a hand as if it was no big deal. "Dress. Jewelry. Everything. I wanted it to be right. Now go, we don't have much time, and I have my own part to prepare."
Arslan was already waiting outside when Wellesley stepped out, still dazed by everything that had just happened.
"Well, look at you," Arslan smirked, falling into step beside her. "I never thought I'd see the day our cold, silent prince would turn into a blushing groom."
Wellesley laughed through the fog in her chest. "He's full of surprises today."
"You have no idea, Wellesley," Arslan grinned. "You know, I was there when he picked that dress. He spent hours debating every shade of ivory. I swear he nearly started a war over lace versus embroidery."
She raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"
"Oh yes," Arslan nodded solemnly. "There were ten fabrics. Ten. And don't even get me started on the jewelry. He touched every gem, questioned every setting. The shopkeeper looked like she'd aged ten years by the time we left."
Wellesley smiled softly, touched in a way she hadn't expected.
"I remember the old Christopher," Arslan continued after a pause, voice quiet. "Back then, he was like a statue. No warmth. No light in his eyes. He saw people like chess pieces. Everything was duty and power and legacy. There was no space for love."
"I know," Wellesley murmured. "He always carried the weight of the crown like armor."
"But now…" Arslan's voice turned wistful. "There's a light in him. Subtle, sure—but it's there. He smiles. He feels. After waking up from that poison... he's changed. We both saw it. We thought we lost him that day. And we failed to protect him."
Wellesley nodded, her hand instinctively clenching. "But not anymore. We protect this version of him—with everything we have."
Arslan looked at her, a spark of something fierce in his gaze. "I'll guard him with my life. Just like I know you will."
They reached the boutique shortly after. The shop was glowing softly with lantern light. Inside, a warm-looking woman greeted Wellesley like an old friend, guiding her to the back where the dress awaited.
The moment Wellesley laid eyes on it, her breath caught.
It was beautiful—delicate layers of silk that shimmered like moonlight, stitched with threads of silver and lined with soft lace. It looked as if it had been sewn from the night sky itself.
"He really chose this?" Wellesley whispered.
The seamstress nodded. "Every thread. He wanted you to feel like a queen."
Her fingers brushed the fabric, tears threatening again. She had never imagined that Christopher would do all of this—not just because of the effort, but because of the care behind it.
She dressed slowly, reverently, feeling more like herself with each piece she donned. The shoes, the earrings, even the delicate clasp in her hair—everything spoke of Christopher's attention to detail, to her.
When she finally stepped out, Arslan whistled low. "He's going to faint when he sees you."
Wellesley laughed, and this time, her heart felt lighter. "Let's not keep him waiting."
As they walked back toward the mountains, Wellesley reached into the folds of her cloak and pulled out a small crystal—pale blue and softly glowing. She whispered a short incantation, and the crystal hummed to life.
"A memory crystal?" Arslan asked, glancing sideways.
"I want to remember tonight," she said softly. "Every smile. Every heartbeat. Every word."
"Good," Arslan said, a rare softness in his voice. "Because some nights are worth remembering forever."
And with that, they continued toward the mountaintop.
Christopher, far ahead, made his final preparations with a steady heart.
Tonight would be theirs—and theirs alone.