Summary: Princess Y/N and her loyal knight (DamiΓ‘n) 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 DamiΓ‘n long before either of you understood what love was.
He was a scrawny trainee in the palace guardβbarely 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 servantsβ corridors until you reached the training yard.
You didnβt expect anyone to be there.
Especially not a boy who froze mid-swing the second he noticed you.
βYour Highness!β he squeaked, bowing so fast he nearly knocked himself unconscious with the wooden blade. βI didnβtβ I wasnβtβ I meanββ
You laughed. It was the first genuine laugh youβd had in weeks.
And DamiΓ‘n looked stunned, like heβd never heard anything like it.
βYou donβt have to bow,β you told him.
His face flushed. βI do. Itβs the rule.β
βWellβ¦β You stepped closer, lowering your voice in a conspiratorial whisper. βI wonβt tell if you donβt.β
You visited the training yard more and more, always pretending it was coincidence. DamiΓ‘n 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 togetherβ
you were just two kids finding comfort in each other.
Years passed. DamiΓ‘n 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:
βSir DamiΓ‘n will be assigned to Princess Y/Nβs personal guard.β
The court buzzed with approval. DamiΓ‘n went silent.
When he escorted you to your chambers for the first time as your knight, he bowed deeply.
βI swear my blade, my loyalty, and my life to you, Princess,β he said. βUntil my last breath.β
βDamiΓ‘n,β you whispered, heart catching, βI never wanted you to bow to me.β
He looked up, eyes aching.
βI always have.β
From that moment on, you were inseparableβpublicly only as princess and knight, privately as something far more dangerous.
Your love didnβt 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 DamiΓ‘n waiting outside your door.
βWalk with me,β 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 didnβt pull away immediately.
His hand lingered at your waist.
Yours curled around his wrist.
You both froze, breath mixing.
βPrincess,β he whispered, voice strained. βIf someone seesβ¦β
βDo you want me to stop?β you asked.
His eyes darkened with an emotion he had spent years burying.
βNo,β he breathed. βNever.β
That night, you kissed him for the first timeβshy and trembling and far too soft for how fiercely you loved each other. But it was real. It was yours.
And from then onβ¦
the line between you and DamiΓ‘n disappeared entirely.
The peace negotiations had been dragging on for months, but you hadnβt worried...not really. Your kingdom was old and proud, and alliances were usually sealed with treaties, not bloodlines.
So when the summons cameβyour father requesting your presence in the Great Council Chamberβyou didnβt think anything of it.
DamiΓ‘n followed you closely, as always. Silent, alert, the perfect knight.
But the moment you stepped into the chamber, your stomach dropped.
Your father wasnβt seated on his throne.
He was standing.
Your mother beside him.
And between them, placed gently on a velvet cushionβ¦
Not just any ring.
Heavy. Gold. Bearing the crest of the enemy kingdom.
Your breath froze in your lungs.
Your motherβs expression softened with something like apology. βY/N,β she said quietly, βthere isβ¦ a decision that must be made for the sake of our people.β
You didnβt speak.
You couldnβt.
Your father cleared his throat, his voice steady but tired.
βThe final condition for peace with the rival kingdom has been delivered.β
He gestured toward the ring.
βThey ask for your hand.β
Your heart slammed against your ribs so hard it hurt.
For a moment, you genuinely wondered if youβd heard wrong.
βMβmyβ¦ hand?β you whispered.
βTheir prince is willing to marry into our bloodline. He claims it will symbolize unity and ensure permanent peace between our nations.β
Behind you, DamiΓ‘n stiffened sharplyβthe 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.
βIt is the only term they will accept. Without this bondβ¦ the war will continue. Many more will die.β
βBut why me?β Your voice cracked. βWhy must it be me?β
Your fatherβs eyes glimmered with an old, weary guilt.
βBecause you are our daughterβ¦ and our greatest symbol.β
A pause.
A longer silence.
And then a quieter confession:
βAnd because we cannot afford to lose you on a battlefield.β
Something inside you broke at that.
They werenβt doing this to punish you.
They were doing it because they were afraid of losing youβ
just in a different way.
Still, the hurt blooming in your chest was unbearable.
βWhat if I donβt want this?β you whispered.
Your father met your eyes with a sorrow you had never seen on his face before.
βThen I will still ask you to do it.β
The room tilted slightly. You reached out to steady yourself on the back of a chair.
A breath behind you.
Barely audible.
But desperate.
βYour Majesty,β DamiΓ‘n suddenly said, voice respectful but trembling underneath. βIf I mayββ
Your father held up a hand. βSir DamiΓ‘n, this matter concerns the royal family. Stand down.β
The command struck him like a blow.
He fell silent, jaw clenched so tight you could see his muscles tremble beneath the skin.
βSo when is this supposed to happen?β you managed.
Your mother hesitatedβjust long enough to make your stomach drop again.
βThe prince arrives in three weeks,β she said softly.
Three weeks.
Twenty-one days.
Too short.
Far too short.
The walls felt closer.
Your lungs struggled to expand.
You needed airβnow.
You bowed stiffly, somehow maintaining the etiquette drilled into you since childhood.
βThank youβ¦ for informing me.β
When you turned, DamiΓ‘n was already there, opening the door for you, eyes shadowed, knuckles white around the handle.
He escorted you down the hall in suffocating silenceβyour 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.
βPrincess,β he said sharply.
He stepped in front of you, chest rising and falling like heβd run miles. His eyes were wildβfear, fury, heartbreak all twisting together in a way you had never seen from him.
βTell me it isnβt happening,β he whispered. βTell me youβre not marrying him.β
βNo,β he snapped, voice cracking. βDonβt say my name like that. Not like Iβm already gone.β
Your throat tightened painfully. βWhat do you want me to say?β
βThe truth,β he said. βThat you donβt want this. That you donβt love him. Thatββ
He stopped himself, breath hitching.
You stepped closer, lowering your voice.
βI donβt love him. I never will.β
DamiΓ‘n 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.
βThen let me go to the king. Let me renounce my title. Let me take you somewhere safe. Iβll live as a farmer, a fugitiveβanything. Justβ¦ donβt marry him.β
You reached for his hand and squeezed.
βDamiΓ‘nβ¦ if I defy this, it will start another war.β
βI do,β you said softly. βBecause my kingdom matters. And because you matter. If they accuse you of stealing me away, they will execute you.β
He looked at you like you had just stabbed him yourself.
And when he finally spoke, the words were barely audible:
βThen what happens to us?β
For a long moment, neither of you moved.
Then DamiΓ‘n stepped forward and pulled you into himβarms tight, face buried in your hair, breathing like he was holding back a scream.
βIf this is the cost of peaceβ¦β he whispered, voice shaking, βthen peace is nothing but a cage.β
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 knightβ¦
He didnβt say goodnight.
He didnβt bow.
He didnβt 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 mightβve imagined it.
DamiΓ‘n walked away from your door with tears burning beneath his eyes like fireβknowing 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, Itβs your last night.
A soft knock broke the quiet.
You didnβt answer.
You didnβt need to.
DamiΓ‘n stepped inside anyway, closing the door behind him with a shaky breath. He wasnβt in armorβjust a simple linen shirt, sleeves pushed up, hair slightly damp like heβd been trying to calm himself and failed.
His eyes found yours immediately.
βI shouldnβt be here,β he whispered, voice hoarse.
βI know,β you whispered back.
But neither of you moved.
He crossed the room slowly, each step heavy like he was afraid youβd vanish before he reached you. When he finally stood in front of you, he lifted a hand toward your face, then hesitatedβlike 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 couldnβt.
Finally DamiΓ‘n's voice broke the quiet, low and raw:
βI kept hopingβ¦ someone would call the wedding off. That thereβd be a message, a mistake, anything.β
His breath trembled against your hair.
βBut there wasnβt.β
Your throat tightened. βI donβt want this, DamiΓ‘n.β
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.
βThen say the word,β he whispered. βJust one. Tell me to take you away. I donβt care where we go. I donβt care what happens. Iβll protect you. Iβllββ
You pressed a shaking hand over his heart.
βI canβt,β you choked out. βIf I run, the kingdom suffers. And if you run, theyβll kill you.β
His jaw clenched like the words physically hurt him.
βLet them,β he whispered, voice cracking. βWhat life is left for me without you in it?β
You shook your head fiercely.
βI want you alive, DamiΓ‘n. Even if it hurts. Even if it breaks me.β
Something in him finally collapsed.
He cupped your face with both hands and kissed youβdesperate, trembling, like he was trying to memorize every angle, every breath, every soft sound you made. It wasnβt 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 wasnβt 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 bedβnot out of hunger, but because your legs gave out under the weight of everything. DamiΓ‘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 couldnβt have youβ¦
he would still choose you, every time.
Once, when he thought you were asleep, his voice broke:
βI wish I were a prince,β he said quietly.
βNot for the crown.
Not for the power.
But because thenβ¦ then I could marry you.β
Your eyes stung, but you didnβt 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 it⦠your last moments as his.
The morning of your wedding begins with silence.
Not celebration, not excitementβjust 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, efficientlyβ¦ but not one of them looks you in the eyes long enough to see the truth.
DamiΓ‘n is elsewhereβin 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 doesnβt dare wipe them. He doesnβt 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. βYou are doing something noble today, Y/N.β
You almost laughβif you open your mouth, you might scream.
The doors open. Music swells. People rise.
The world sees a radiant princess.
But DamiΓ‘n 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 hisβjust 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 DamiΓ‘n.
The priest begins speaking, but DamiΓ‘n doesnβt hear any of it. The words echo off the stone walls, meaningless. His entire body shakes inside his armorβsmall 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 them⦠if you see him⦠you will break.
DamiΓ‘n 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.
βDo you, Princess Y/N, takeββ
Your voice barely works. βIβ¦ do.β
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 strangerβs.
He tells himself itβs 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, DamiΓ‘n'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 togetherβthe warmth of your hand in his, the way your fingers curled into his shirt, the way you whispered you wished you had been born ordinaryβ¦ just so you could choose him.
He had held your hand then.
Now, he never will again.
βBy the power vestedββ
He hears the crowd celebrate your union like some fairytale ending⦠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 onceβonly onceβafter the kiss. You donβt dare look long. Your smile falters, just enough that DamiΓ‘n sees a crack in the mask youβre forced to wear.
The new prince takes your hand, leading you down the aisle as husband and wife.
And DamiΓ‘n 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.
