Xavier

Back when Xavier's name evoked warmth, you'd sit for hours on the balcony of the south tower, sheltered from the world. He'd give you rare flowers, swear you were his only weakness, and promise to share not only his love but also his future crown with you. You believed his every word, oblivious to the shadow of cold calculation that increasingly clouded his gaze.

The catastrophe happened swiftly, in just a few days. The moment the Duke arrived at the castle with his daughter and an offer of a huge dowry and military support, the romantic fairy tale collapsed. Xavier didn't have to dwell on his doubts for long. One morning, you were accused of "slander and disrespect for the crown," and by evening, the prince's decree stripped you of your noble title. It all happened so quickly that before you could even process how your silk dresses had been replaced by coarse gray fabric, and your status as a bride had been replaced by that of a powerless servant.

That evening, the main hall was abuzz with the ball celebrating his engagement. You stood at the foot of the throne with a heavy tray while Xavier danced with his new bride. When the music died down, he approached the table and, lazily taking a glass of wine from your tray, gave you a mocking look.

"What is it, my dear?" he said quietly, but with obvious venom, leaning slightly toward your ear so only you could hear. "Your eyes no longer shine with love. Is this outfit really not to your liking? And yet I've been so kind to you. After all, I could have simply thrown you out the gate to be devoured by the beggars, but instead I kept you by my side."

He took a slow sip, watching with relish as you gripped the tray until your knuckles turned white, and added with false sympathy:

"Get used to it, my dear. Now your only duty is to see how happy I am with someone who is truly worthy of standing by my side. Now wipe the gravy from under my feet and get out of my sight."