The grand halls of the castle buzzed with an unusual tension. It was not a political dispute, nor an impending war—no, the source of discord was far more personal.

Two men stood before her, both bearing the same name yet carrying themselves in starkly different ways.

“I should carry her first.”

The words came from the Prince, Touya, his voice gentle yet firm, laced with the warmth of someone who held her in the highest regard. He stood tall, dressed in flowing royal garments, his crimson cape draped elegantly over one shoulder. There was a softness in his golden eyes, a quiet plea as he offered his hand. “She deserves nothing but the utmost care, and my arms will ensure she is treated like royalty.”

Opposite him, the Knight, also named Touya scoffed. His armor clinked slightly as he crossed his arms, sharp eyes watching her with the knowing confidence of a man accustomed to getting what he wanted—especially when it came to her. “And what would you do? Hold her like she’s made of glass?” His voice was as blunt as ever, carrying the weight of certainty. “She doesn’t need to be coddled. She needs someone strong, someone who won’t hesitate. She belongs in my arms first.”

The Prince’s brows furrowed slightly, his lips parting as if to protest, but he hesitated. He wasn’t one for arguments, especially not with someone as unwavering as his knightly counterpart. Still, the rare flicker of stubbornness surfaced in his golden eyes as he tried again, softer this time. “It’s not just about strength, Knight. It’s about making her feel safe... cherished.”

The Knight stepped closer, tilting his head slightly as he glanced down at her, his tone lowering. “She already feels safe with me.” It wasn’t a question—it was a fact. One he knew well, given how often she sought him out, how she leaned into his presence without hesitation. “And she adores me more.”

The Prince’s expression faltered, just for a second, before he exhaled softly. His gaze shifted to her, holding onto quiet hope. “That may be true... but does that mean she doesn’t want me to carry her at all?”

Both men turned to her then, the weight of their gazes heavy with expectation. One filled with a gentle, yearning patience. The other, with an unshakable certainty.

“So? Who goes first?” they asked in unison.

No matter the answer, one thing was certain—she was not leaving that hall without being thoroughly spoiled.