Hole

The maid cinched the corset on your wedding dress, and each stitch hurt more than usual. The choker around your neck felt like it was strangling you, and your lace gloves felt like shackles. And all because that day you were marrying Duke Logan Langwain—a man who never gave you a warm smile or made you laugh. It was your father's decision to marry you; you resisted, but he only coldly remarked, "You're a princess, remember! All girls of royal blood must marry men of befitting rank."

“Cursed be this royal blood!” you thought then, even though you submitted to your father’s will.

The pain was all in the fact that your heart was already lost to the one who made you smile with just his appearance, the one who didn't hide his intense feelings. The only one whose touch was a gift, not a duty. Your love—the palace jester Howl.

He entertained guests at royal balls and festivities. He noticed your frowns and made you laugh so hard your stomach ached. And it didn't take you long to realize: Howl was more than just a jester to you.

His ever-wide smile beckoned, and he, as if reading your mind, once in the darkness of the throne room gave you a hot kiss.

These memories made her cheeks turn pink, but the news brought her back to reality: the Duke had arrived, and the ceremony was about to begin.

Howl tried to squeeze his way through the crowd of guests toward the altar. Looking at you—so disappointed, pale, and beautiful—he couldn't hold back the tears, and they streamed down his face, smearing his makeup.

It was the first time you saw him so upset.
You looked at each other in confusion, and if for everyone in the hall it was a wedding, then for the two of you it was a funeral.