The bells began at dawn.
They rang from the highest towers of the capital, deep and resonant, rolling outward across stone streets, riverbanks, and distant districts where citizens paused mid-step, mid-breath, to listen. Bakers halted their ovens. Merchants lowered their hands. Even the river guards along the bridges stood still.
The sound carried a single truth—the crown was being bound.
Not by conquest.Not by decree alone.But by blood, by choice, and by a union the entire realm had been forced to witness, question, and finally accept.
Within the ducal estate, dawn arrived in quieter ways.
Rin awoke before the servants came, long before the official summons. He lay still beneath embroidered linens, staring at the canopy above him, listening to the distant bells echo faintly even here. For the first time in many years, there was no urge to flee. No instinct to run barefoot into the forest or vanish down a road with nothing but herbs and notes.
Only a strange, steady calm.
So this is today.
Beside him, Riven stirred, hair mussed, eyes half-open."Papa… is it morning?"
"Yes," Rin answered softly. "Go back to sleep."
"But today is important," Rhen said seriously, sitting up. "You're finally marrying Daddy."
Rin sighed, covering his face with one hand. "You sound more excited than I am."
A gentle knock interrupted them.
The duchess entered, already dressed in ceremonial silk, her presence warm and steady despite the tension humming through the estate. Behind her followed several maids carrying trays, garments, and jewelry.
"Good morning," she said softly. "Are you ready?"
Rin paused only a second, then nodded. "As ready as I'll ever be."
The twins were ushered out first, chattering excitedly about flowers and bells. When the door closed behind them, the room felt heavier—quieter in a way that pressed inward. The maids began their careful work, layering fabric, fastening clasps, smoothing folds.
Rin endured it with patience that surprised even himself, though his foot tapped incessantly against the floor.
"You know," the duchess said lightly, observing him through the mirror, "most people would be trembling."
"I'm saving that for later," Rin replied dryly.
She laughed. "If it's any comfort, Alaric hasn't been able to sit still since sunrise."
That made Rin pause. "…He hasn't caused trouble, has he?"
"Not yet," she said pointedly. "His aide is nearly guarding him with a blade."
By midmorning, the capital transformed.
The great cathedral stood radiant beneath the sun. Banners in royal colors draped the towering pillars, embroidered with the ancient sigil of the crown. Sunlight poured through stained-glass windows, scattering gold, crimson, and sapphire across the marble floor.
Nobles arrived in waves, settling according to rank. Foreign envoys whispered behind gloved hands. Clergy moved in quiet precision.
At the altar, symbolism reigned over excess—white lilies for unity, evergreen branches for continuity, and a single silver crest bearing the royal seal.
When the final bell fell silent, the doors opened.
Heralds entered first, staffs striking stone in measured rhythm. Their voices rang clear as they announced the beginning of the ceremony.
Then came the twins.
A murmur rippled through the cathedral.
They walked side by side, small hands clasped tightly, dressed in ceremonial white edged with gold thread. One carried a velvet cushion bearing the wedding rings; the other held a polished case engraved with the royal crest.
Not rumors.Not symbols.
They were children—living proof of what had already existed long before the crown acknowledged it.
They stopped near the altar, close enough to be seen, close enough to matter.
The doors opened again.
Alaric entered.
He wore the mantle of a reigning king—not the crown itself, but the weight of rule. The fabric rested heavy on his shoulders, embroidered with the legacy of generations before him. His posture was straight, his gaze forward, his expression composed in a way that spoke of battles fought and decisions survived.
Every noble rose.
Not out of fear.
Not out of obligation.
But recognition.
He took his place at the altar, hands clasped behind his back, and for a heartbeat, the cathedral felt small against the gravity he carried.
Then, at last, the final doors opened.
Rin entered.
There was no grand announcement. None was needed.
He was escorted only partway by his father, whose attire was simple but dignified. When they reached the midpoint, his father stopped. There was a pause—release, acknowledgment—and Rin continued alone.
His attire was ceremonial yet unrestrictive. No chains. No excessive ornamentation. At his collar rested a small silver clasp engraved with a botanical motif—quiet, personal, unmistakably his.
When Rin reached the altar, Alaric's breath caught.
For all the preparation, all the politics, all the restraint—none of it mattered.
He is here.He chose this.
The ceremony began.
Words older than the kingdom echoed beneath the vaulted ceiling, speaking of union not as possession, but as covenant. Marriage not as confinement, but as shared responsibility.
"Do you, Alaric Valen , reigning king of this realm, enter this union of your own will?"
"I do," Alaric answered, voice unwavering.
"Do you, Rin Rosenthal of House Frierand, enter this union freely, without coercion?"
"I do," Rin replied, steady and clear.
The twins stepped forward.
Rings were exchanged.
Metal touched skin.
"By the authority vested in me," the officiant declared, "I pronounce you wed."
The bells rang again.
This time, they did not merely announce ceremony—they celebrated truth.
Their peals burst outward, triumphant and unrestrained, rolling beyond the cathedral walls into the waiting city. Cheers rose from outside even before the doors were opened, as though the people themselves had been holding their breath.
The twins were guided forward once more. At the officiant's gentle instruction, they placed their small hands atop Alaric's and Rin's joined ones.
A blessing followed—not only for king and spouse, but for the family already formed by choice, hardship, and love.
The officiant lowered his staff.
Then, with a rare softness in his eyes, he smiled.
"You may," he said clearly, "kiss your spouse."
For a heartbeat, the world stilled.
Alaric turned fully toward Rin. The weight of the crown, the court, the watching world—everything fell away. What remained was disbelief, raw and unguarded.
In a voice meant only for the space between them, he said quietly, almost breathless,
"I can't believe you're really marrying me."
Rin let out a soft, incredulous laugh, eyes shining.
"I feel the same," he murmured back. "It feels like I'll wake up any moment… and find out this was just a dream."
Alaric lifted Rin's hand, pressing his forehead briefly against it.
"Then let me be selfish," he whispered. "Let me stay in this dream."
Rin stepped closer, closing the distance himself.
Their hands tightened together.
And then Alaric leaned in.
The kiss was not restrained.
It was not hurried.
It was deep and certain—filled with everything they had endured and everything they had chosen. Years apart, words left unsaid, anger, longing, forgiveness, devotion—all of it folded into that single moment. Rin's fingers curled into Alaric's mantle, grounding him there, as if to say I'm here. I chose this. I choose you.
Then, the Applause erupted.
Joyous. Thunderous. Uncontainable.
Outside, the city erupted.
Petals rained from balconies. Voices rose in cheers and prayers. From the palace balcony later, they stood side by side—no distance, no division of rank.
The capital roared its acceptance.
And though politics would continue, and trials would follow, this moment stood immutable—
A crown bound not by convenience, but by choice.
A family claimed not in secrecy, but in full light.
The bells rang until nightfall.
The End....
Is Just The Beginning.Please Look forward for the Epilogue