Alan shrugged his shoulders, sensing the stunned gazes of all the courtiers who hadn't anticipated such a proclamation from the king. However, King Hardy calmly reiterated, keeping his eyes on Alan's flushed face, “As of today, Arania's matrimonial law permits male marriages. All those desiring to take a husband into their family can submit a request as usual- nobles to the king, those without title to the magistrate.” The king fell silent, allowing the shocking news to sink in for everyone. He then added with weight in his tone, subtly weaving a warning to potential rivals, “I, King Hardy Rune, publicly declare myself a candidate for the hand and heart of Duke Alan Lear.”

The courtiers, collectively exhaling, exchanged whispers of amazement, covering their mouths with palms and fans. Hardy rose from the throne and descended the steps slowly, approaching Alan, who was instantly encircled by a void. Speaking quietly, addressing only Alan, he said, “Well, my love, it's been two weeks. What do you think? Don't keep me in waiting any longer. Please tell me what you’ve decided.”

Alan looked up at him, his eyes shining with shy happiness, and Hardy gasped, discerning the answer on his face. He took Alan's hand, squeezing it tightly. Bending toward him, Hardy momentarily forgot they were not in the secluded silence of the chambers but in a grand throne room filled with courtiers and servants. He tensed when he heard an indignant exclamation from behind him.

The elderly Baron Wellian, known for his temper and directness, pounded the stone floor tiles with his heavy cane and exclaimed loudly, "The king's husband will be a Hannian bastard?! He will tarnish the throne with filth! All neighboring kingdoms will look at us with mockery, and we will become the laughingstock of the world! I'm not opposed to a male marriage; it was permitted when I was young. But, Your Majesty, regain your senses! There are plenty of other young men at court whose origins are not tainted by extramarital affairs, more worthy of your attention.”

"Don't you dare cross the king!" Hardy erupted instantly, squeezing Alan's hand tightly. "Anyone who dares to insult my chosen one will be excommunicated from the court - I warned you! Baron Wellian, from this day forward, you are banned from the capital! If you insult the future junior king again, you will be punished with the same penalty as if you insulted the throne - the death penalty! Is there anyone else who wishes to challenge my decision?" He looked around threateningly, and all those whispering unhappily averted their eyes in fear and fell silent.

Baron Wellian staggered back in shock, grabbing his gown with his thin hand, pulling the strangling collar off his chicken-skinny neck, and said in disbelief elongating his words, "Your Majesty, I have served your grandfather, your father, and you faithfully all my life. Will you not, for the sake of a bastard..."

"Remove the Baron from the hall!" Hardy furrowed his brows and bellowed angrily, "Only in remembrance of your past services will I not have you executed!”

The baron hunched over as if his life had been drained out of him with that shout and raised his hand helplessly, stopping the guards from rushing toward him.

"I'll leave, I’ll leave..." he muttered, shuffling away across the floor in his senile way, while Alan spoke nervously, looking at Hardy, who was frowning implacably, "Please don't, Your Majesty. Baron Wellian is right. I'm only a bastard."

"You are the king's chosen one, Alan. No one should look down upon you," Hardy stated pointedly. "We'll talk later in your chambers. You're pale. Go to your room," and gently nudged Alan, nodding to his guards.

Alan moved toward the exit, trembling nervously as he observed the courtiers bowing respectfully before him. Melissa, frozen in shock and holding her hand to her heart, was the sole exception, not bowing, but narrowing her eyes furiously, murmuring something. Alan grinned faintly; it was to be expected. As a bastard, he had taken the place she had dreamed of all her life. If she had despised him before, she probably hated him fiercely now. Rick, who had been watching her intently, bent toward her, saying something sharply. Melissa bowed to Alan slightly, urged on by her fiancé.

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"There, I told you," Zack bustled around him animatedly, helping him change. "We servants know everything before the masters because we see more, hear more. I sensed from the beginning that the king cared for you, cared for you as he cared for no one else. He is absolutely in love with you."

"What of it, Zack?" Alan shook his head lamentably, sighing. "The king shouldn't have announced it, and I knew I'd gotten him in trouble when I saw the reaction of the courtiers, outraged by his decision. The others may have remained silent, but they are as angry as Baron Wellian, so they may revolt against the king."

“His Majesty will be able to quell the discontent. He is a strong ruler, despite his youth," Zack answered confidently. "Don't worry, sir. The most important thing is that there is an understanding between you, and the king will handle the court. He will do anything for you."

Hardy was willing to do anything for him, Zack was right. Alan was convinced of that too when he noticed, a few days later, that the number of courtiers had decreased. Many, unable to accept the new order of things, disappeared— those nobles who couldn't adapt. Those who remained behaved with Alan very discreetly, not daring to offend him even with a look. It was strange to be at the epicenter of attention. Alan tried to show less of himself to the court, but Hardy insisted gently on his going out.

"Do you agree to be my husband, Alan?" Hardy got down on his knee after five days of intense glancing, clarifying with his eyes alone that he had gotten it right, that Alan was ready to open his heart to him. "Please say yes!"

"Yes," Alan squirmed in embarrassment, and Hardy exhaled sharply, and pulled Alan against him, peering searchingly into his face.

“Did you say yes because I gave you no choice, or because you like me?" Hardy looked at him tensely, waiting for an answer, and Alan whispered quietly, looking into the burning green eyes.

"Because I like you, Your Majesty."

"Address me as Hardy, Alan," Hardy smiled happily. "You don't have to be so prim, you're my fiancé now. How long I've waited for this!" He kissed Alan softly, gently at first, but deepened the kiss at once, moaning in pleasure, his eager hands slipping under Alan’s camisole.

Alan responded passionately to the kiss, exploring Hardy's strong muscles with his hands, savoring the sensations. He delighted in the pleasure of being loved and desired, shifting the feelings from Rick, who was mistakenly seen as a secret admirer, to Hardy. As Hardy's hands deftly undid the clasps of his breeches and pulled them down from his hips, Alan shuddered in anticipation – is it going to happen now? Breathing heavily, Hardy reassured him gently, “We will not go far before the wedding, just share some tender moments. I deserve that, don’t you think, Princess? Please relax," he reassured, unbuttoning his own breeches and revealing his aroused member. Alan stared in horror, realizing only now that this sizable shaft would soon be penetrating him. Hardy placed a hand on his own member, clouding his gaze. "No need to fear, Al. I'll be gentle. Please touch me."

Alan obediently traced his trembling fingers down the length, from the moist tip to the very base, gauging it with touch. He swallowed, feeling his own member enveloped by Hardy's confident and measured strokes, delivering enchanting pleasure. Responding to the kiss, he mirrored Hardy's movements, gripping his member in a tight circle, gasping in shared arousal. Hardy released a husky groan, spilling the essence over his belly, smiling contentedly as he pulled his camisole from his shoulders. “I want to see you naked, Al, please let me.”

Alan squirmed in shame, allowing to undress him, shrugging to have his camisole removed, raising his arms to have his shirt pulled down, stepping over his legs to have his breeches pulled down to his ankles. Hardy moved back, looking him over greedily, admiring him like a priceless treasure, eyes darkening again in desire.

“God, you're beautiful, Princess. Don't cover for me, Alan. Let me admire you. Damn it, I want you again. I can't get enough of you.”

Hardy stumbled toward the exit, fastening his breeches while swallowing eagerly. Alan opened his eyes and extended his arms compliantly, allowing to be observed. He gazed at his own naked form, clad only in stockings, wondering what about him drove Hardy to such intense desire. Slender and thin, lacking robust muscles, Alan had always felt self-conscious about his delicate physique, often wishing for the more masculine build that Dwayne possessed. The reasons weren't entirely clear, but it was evident that Hardy still found him attractive.