Summary: Princess Y/N and her loyal knight (DamiƔn) secretly fall in love over the years. But to secure peace between two rival kingdoms, Y/N is forced into an arranged marriage with a foreign prince. Their affair remains hidden as the knight is ordered to protect her during the ceremony. On the wedding day, he stands in armor and watches the woman he loves marry someone else, silently breaking behind his helmet while Y/N hides her own heartbreak.
"Behind the knights helmet"
BIG Angst, no smut. backstory, betrayal, cheating, Forbidden love
all fake scenarios!
You met DamiƔn long before either of you understood what love was.
He was a scrawny trainee in the palace guardābarely fourteen, bruised from sparring, hair sticking to his forehead as he struggled to lift a wooden practice sword twice his size.
You were supposed to be in etiquette lessons that afternoon, learning the proper way to smile, sit, breathe. You snuck out instead, slipping through servantsā corridors until you reached the training yard.
You didnāt expect anyone to be there.
Especially not a boy who froze mid-swing the second he noticed you.
āYour Highness!ā he squeaked, bowing so fast he nearly knocked himself unconscious with the wooden blade. āI didnātā I wasnātā I meanāā
You laughed. It was the first genuine laugh youād had in weeks.
And DamiĆ”n looked stunned, like heād never heard anything like it.
āYou donāt have to bow,ā you told him.
His face flushed. āI do. Itās the rule.ā
āWellā¦ā You stepped closer, lowering your voice in a conspiratorial whisper. āI wonāt tell if you donāt.ā
You visited the training yard more and more, always pretending it was coincidence. DamiƔn never asked why, but his eyes always lit up in a way he tried to hide.
You brought him pastries. He showed you how to hold a training sword (very badly, according to him). You told him your dreams of exploring the world. He told you his dreams of becoming a knight.
You were a princess.
He was nobody.
But togetherā
you were just two kids finding comfort in each other.
Years passed. DamiƔn grew taller, stronger, sharper. By seventeen, he had already survived two campaigns, returning each time with armor more battered and eyes more hardened than before.
After his third battle, he was knighted.
And then the queen made a decision that changed everything:
āSir DamiĆ”n will be assigned to Princess Y/Nās personal guard.ā
The court buzzed with approval. DamiƔn went silent.
When he escorted you to your chambers for the first time as your knight, he bowed deeply.
āI swear my blade, my loyalty, and my life to you, Princess,ā he said. āUntil my last breath.ā
āDamiĆ”n,ā you whispered, heart catching, āI never wanted you to bow to me.ā
He looked up, eyes aching.
āI always have.ā
From that moment on, you were inseparableāpublicly only as princess and knight, privately as something far more dangerous.
Your love didnāt ignite in one moment.
Him draping his cloak over your shoulders when you were cold.
You treating his wounds in secret after missions.
His eyes always finding you first in every room.
The way he stood a little closer to you than he should.
The way you said his name differently than anyone else did.
One night, after a diplomatic banquet, you slipped away from the overwhelming halls and found DamiƔn waiting outside your door.
āWalk with me,ā you said.
He hesitated only a moment before following.
You wandered the moonlit palace gardens, talking about nothing and everything. At some point, you tripped on a root, and he reached out to steady you.
But he didnāt pull away immediately.
His hand lingered at your waist.
Yours curled around his wrist.
You both froze, breath mixing.
āPrincess,ā he whispered, voice strained. āIf someone seesā¦ā
āDo you want me to stop?ā you asked.
His eyes darkened with an emotion he had spent years burying.
āNo,ā he breathed. āNever.ā
That night, you kissed him for the first timeāshy and trembling and far too soft for how fiercely you loved each other. But it was real. It was yours.
And from then onā¦
the line between you and DamiƔn disappeared entirely.
The peace negotiations had been dragging on for months, but you hadnāt worried...not really. Your kingdom was old and proud, and alliances were usually sealed with treaties, not bloodlines.
So when the summons cameāyour father requesting your presence in the Great Council Chamberāyou didnāt think anything of it.
DamiƔn followed you closely, as always. Silent, alert, the perfect knight.
But the moment you stepped into the chamber, your stomach dropped.
Your father wasnāt seated on his throne.
He was standing.
Your mother beside him.
And between them, placed gently on a velvet cushionā¦
Not just any ring.
Heavy. Gold. Bearing the crest of the enemy kingdom.
Your breath froze in your lungs.
Your motherās expression softened with something like apology. āY/N,ā she said quietly, āthere isā¦ a decision that must be made for the sake of our people.ā
You didnāt speak.
You couldnāt.
Your father cleared his throat, his voice steady but tired.
āThe final condition for peace with the rival kingdom has been delivered.ā
He gestured toward the ring.
āThey ask for your hand.ā
Your heart slammed against your ribs so hard it hurt.
For a moment, you genuinely wondered if youād heard wrong.
āMāmyā¦ hand?ā you whispered.
āTheir prince is willing to marry into our bloodline. He claims it will symbolize unity and ensure permanent peace between our nations.ā
Behind you, DamiĆ”n stiffened sharplyāthe kind of reaction only someone who knew him could notice. It was the flinch of a man hit with an invisible blade.
Your mother stepped closer, voice trembling despite her attempt at calm.
āIt is the only term they will accept. Without this bondā¦ the war will continue. Many more will die.ā
āBut why me?ā Your voice cracked. āWhy must it be me?ā
Your fatherās eyes glimmered with an old, weary guilt.
āBecause you are our daughterā¦ and our greatest symbol.ā
A pause.
A longer silence.
And then a quieter confession:
āAnd because we cannot afford to lose you on a battlefield.ā
Something inside you broke at that.
They werenāt doing this to punish you.
They were doing it because they were afraid of losing youā
just in a different way.
Still, the hurt blooming in your chest was unbearable.
āWhat if I donāt want this?ā you whispered.
Your father met your eyes with a sorrow you had never seen on his face before.
āThen I will still ask you to do it.ā
The room tilted slightly. You reached out to steady yourself on the back of a chair.
A breath behind you.
Barely audible.
But desperate.
āYour Majesty,ā DamiĆ”n suddenly said, voice respectful but trembling underneath. āIf I mayāā
Your father held up a hand. āSir DamiĆ”n, this matter concerns the royal family. Stand down.ā
The command struck him like a blow.
He fell silent, jaw clenched so tight you could see his muscles tremble beneath the skin.
āSo when is this supposed to happen?ā you managed.
Your mother hesitatedājust long enough to make your stomach drop again.
āThe prince arrives in three weeks,ā she said softly.
Three weeks.
Twenty-one days.
Too short.
Far too short.
The walls felt closer.
Your lungs struggled to expand.
You needed airānow.
You bowed stiffly, somehow maintaining the etiquette drilled into you since childhood.
āThank youā¦ for informing me.ā
When you turned, DamiƔn was already there, opening the door for you, eyes shadowed, knuckles white around the handle.
He escorted you down the hall in suffocating silenceāyour footsteps soft on the polished floors, his armor brushing against your gown like a reminder of everything you were about to lose.
Halfway to your chambers, he broke.
āPrincess,ā he said sharply.
He stepped in front of you, chest rising and falling like heād run miles. His eyes were wildāfear, fury, heartbreak all twisting together in a way you had never seen from him.
āTell me it isnāt happening,ā he whispered. āTell me youāre not marrying him.ā
āNo,ā he snapped, voice cracking. āDonāt say my name like that. Not like Iām already gone.ā
Your throat tightened painfully. āWhat do you want me to say?ā
āThe truth,ā he said. āThat you donāt want this. That you donāt love him. Thatāā
He stopped himself, breath hitching.
You stepped closer, lowering your voice.
āI donāt love him. I never will.ā
DamiƔn closed his eyes like those words were both everything he needed and everything that destroyed him.
When he opened them again, his voice was nothing but a broken whisper.
āThen let me go to the king. Let me renounce my title. Let me take you somewhere safe. Iāll live as a farmer, a fugitiveāanything. Justā¦ donāt marry him.ā
You reached for his hand and squeezed.
āDamiĆ”nā¦ if I defy this, it will start another war.ā
āI do,ā you said softly. āBecause my kingdom matters. And because you matter. If they accuse you of stealing me away, they will execute you.ā
He looked at you like you had just stabbed him yourself.
And when he finally spoke, the words were barely audible:
āThen what happens to us?ā
For a long moment, neither of you moved.
Then DamiĆ”n stepped forward and pulled you into himāarms tight, face buried in your hair, breathing like he was holding back a scream.
āIf this is the cost of peaceā¦ā he whispered, voice shaking, āthen peace is nothing but a cage.ā
Because he was right.
And yet you were still trapped.
After what felt like hours, he finally loosened his hold.
Wordlessly, he led you back to your chambers.
And for the first time since he became your knightā¦
He didnāt say goodnight.
He didnāt bow.
He didnāt speak at all.
He just closed the door behind you.
The soft sound of him exhaling sharply.
Trying to stay silent.
Trying not to break.
A choked, quiet sob.
Cut off so quickly you mightāve imagined it.
DamiĆ”n walked away from your door with tears burning beneath his eyes like fireāknowing that every step he took was one more inch away from the life he wanted.
The life he would never have.
The three weeks pass. You two exchanging nothing but glances and quiet tension.
The palace felt unnaturally silent the night before your marriage, as if even the walls knew what tomorrow meant.
You sat at your window, staring out at the moonlit courtyard, fingers trembling around the edge of your cloak. Every shadow felt like a countdown. Every gust of wind whispered, Itās your last night.
A soft knock broke the quiet.
You didnāt answer.
You didnāt need to.
DamiĆ”n stepped inside anyway, closing the door behind him with a shaky breath. He wasnāt in armorājust a simple linen shirt, sleeves pushed up, hair slightly damp like heād been trying to calm himself and failed.
His eyes found yours immediately.
āI shouldnāt be here,ā he whispered, voice hoarse.
āI know,ā you whispered back.
But neither of you moved.
He crossed the room slowly, each step heavy like he was afraid youād vanish before he reached you. When he finally stood in front of you, he lifted a hand toward your face, then hesitatedālike touching you now might break whatever fragile strength he had left.
You leaned into his palm first.
He pulled you into him with an aching urgency, arms wrapping around you like he was trying to pull you into his heartbeat. You sank into his chest, fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt as if it were the only thing keeping you grounded.
For a long moment, neither of you spoke.
You just held each other.
Breathed each other in.
Let the silence say everything words couldnāt.
Finally DamiƔn's voice broke the quiet, low and raw:
āI kept hopingā¦ someone would call the wedding off. That thereād be a message, a mistake, anything.ā
His breath trembled against your hair.
āBut there wasnāt.ā
Your throat tightened. āI donāt want this, DamiĆ”n.ā
He pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes were glassy, stormy, full of grief he was trying and failing to hold back.
āThen say the word,ā he whispered. āJust one. Tell me to take you away. I donāt care where we go. I donāt care what happens. Iāll protect you. Iāllāā
You pressed a shaking hand over his heart.
āI canāt,ā you choked out. āIf I run, the kingdom suffers. And if you run, theyāll kill you.ā
His jaw clenched like the words physically hurt him.
āLet them,ā he whispered, voice cracking. āWhat life is left for me without you in it?ā
You shook your head fiercely.
āI want you alive, DamiĆ”n. Even if it hurts. Even if it breaks me.ā
Something in him finally collapsed.
He cupped your face with both hands and kissed youādesperate, trembling, like he was trying to memorize every angle, every breath, every soft sound you made. It wasnāt a kiss of passion.
It was a kiss of goodbye.
He kissed your cheeks where tears gathered.
He kissed your forehead softly, reverently.
He kissed you like you were a prayer he wasnāt allowed to say out loud.
When his lips returned to yours, it was gentler. Slower. Almost painful in how careful he was with you.
The two of you ended up on your bedānot out of hunger, but because your legs gave out under the weight of everything. DamiĆ”n laying behind you, arms wrapped tightly around your waist, his forehead pressed to the back of your shoulder.
Your fingers laced with his.
Your breaths matched naturally, like always.
He whispered to you the whole night in a voice meant only for you:
Promising he loved you.
Promising he always would.
Promising that even if he couldnāt have youā¦
he would still choose you, every time.
Once, when he thought you were asleep, his voice broke:
āI wish I were a prince,ā he said quietly.
āNot for the crown.
Not for the power.
But because thenā¦ then I could marry you.ā
Your eyes stung, but you didnāt turn.
If you did, you might never stop crying.
Eventually, exhaustion pulled both of you under.
You slept pressed tightly together, his arms around you like he could protect you from the sunrise itself.
But dawn still came.
And with itā¦ your last moments as his.
The morning of your wedding begins with silence.
Not celebration, not excitementājust a strange, hollow quiet that feels too heavy for your lungs. Servants bustle around you, tightening laces, smoothing fabric, brushing jewels into your hair as if preparing a porcelain doll. Their hands move quickly, politely, efficientlyā¦ but not one of them looks you in the eyes long enough to see the truth.
DamiĆ”n is elsewhereāin the hall, standing with the other knights, receiving last-minute orders to guard the ceremony. He will be positioned near the front aisle, they tell him. Close enough to protect the royal family.
Close enough to watch everything.
He nods, because he has to. Because knights do not speak. Because if he opens his mouth even once, he knows something inside him will snap, and he will say words that cannot be unsaid.
When they fit his helmet onto his head, he feels the metal press against the dried tracks of tears from the night before. He doesnāt dare wipe them. He doesnāt want to erase the last proof that he ever held you.
When you walk toward the grand doors of the cathedral, your father takes your arm.
His voice is soft. āYou are doing something noble today, Y/N.ā
You almost laughāif you open your mouth, you might scream.
The doors open. Music swells. People rise.
The world sees a radiant princess.
But DamiƔn sees the truth.
Even through the slits of his helmet, he notices everything: your trembling fingers gripping your bouquet too tightly, the way your shoulders stiffen with every step, the slight falter in your breath when your eyes meet hisājust for a second, a second so short it could be imagined.
You look away first. You have to.
The prince awaiting you looks kind. He smiles gently, unaware of the war happening inside you. He is not cruel. He is not the villain.
He is simply not DamiƔn.
The priest begins speaking, but DamiĆ”n doesnāt hear any of it. The words echo off the stone walls, meaningless. His entire body shakes inside his armorāsmall tremors he prays no one sees.
Every vow spoken feels like a sword driven into his ribs.
Your eyes stay lowered, not out of shyness, but because if you raise themā¦ if you see himā¦ you will break.
DamiƔn bites down hard on the inside of his cheek. Blood fills his mouth. He prefers the sting. Physical pain is easier than this.
Then comes the moment that destroys him.
āDo you, Princess Y/N, takeāā
Your voice barely works. āIā¦ do.ā
It sounds nothing like you. Not the voice that whispered promises in the dark. Not the voice that laughed against his chest. Not the voice that said his name like a prayer.
This voice is a strangerās.
He tells himself itās sweat.
But he tastes the salt of tears slipping through the bottom of his helmet.
He is glad no one can see his face.
When the prince touches your hand, placing the wedding ring on your finger, DamiƔn's knees nearly give out. He forces himself steady, digging his boots into the ground so hard the stone scrapes beneath them.
He remembers your last night togetherāthe warmth of your hand in his, the way your fingers curled into his shirt, the way you whispered you wished you had been born ordinaryā¦ just so you could choose him.
He had held your hand then.
Now, he never will again.
āBy the power vestedāā
He hears the crowd celebrate your union like some fairytale endingā¦ while he stands forgotten, a shadow in the corner of the room, watching the only woman he has ever loved slip forever out of his reach.
Your eyes flicker toward him onceāonly onceāafter the kiss. You donāt dare look long. Your smile falters, just enough that DamiĆ”n sees a crack in the mask youāre forced to wear.
The new prince takes your hand, leading you down the aisle as husband and wife.
And DamiƔn stands there, a knight sworn to silence, with tears he cannot wipe, a heart he cannot protect, and a love he must bury for the rest of his life.
It is the cruelest duty he has ever fulfilled.
