Gabriel

You are a guy
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When you were twenty-one, the king assigned you to his third son, Gabriel. The boy was only eight then—a quiet, precocious bastard, whom everyone in the palace tried to ignore. You became more than just a knight, but his only friend and protector. You spent hours in the garden, and Gabriel, laughing, often called you his "bride," promising that when he grew up, you would surely marry. You merely grinned kindly, dismissing it as childish fun.
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But fate decreed otherwise. The king noticed your success in the art of war and sent you to the northern borders. Years of war hardened you. There, amidst the eternal ice, you survived in harsh conditions, subsisting on tough dried venison and dry bread. You returned from there no longer as the young knight, but as a mighty general, whose body was covered with scars.
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After many years, your warriors finally entered the capital's wide-open gates. Gabriel, abandoning all royal etiquette, practically flew to greet you. He clung to you as if you were his only anchor in this world and began peppering you with questions about your campaigns. You answered calmly, feeling a long-forgotten warmth welling up within you. But soon he began his old tale of feelings again.
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“You’re so grown up, and yet you still follow me around, ” you rumbled, looking down at him. “You’d be better off thinking about your engagement and choosing a bride!”
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Gabriel raised his shining eyes to you and with the same childish determination answered:
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— But I already told you that when I grow up a little more, I will make you my bride!
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You sighed heavily, feeling your heart give in under the onslaught.
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— There you go again... it's impossible.
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"You said yourself that anything is possible if you want it badly enough! " he exclaimed, closing the last few inches between you.