That night, a storm raged over Aethelgard. Rain lashed against the palace windows like tears. Ridoy knew he couldn't let Nila be hurt, but he also knew he couldn't live without her.
He sent a final message through a trusted servant. Meet me at the old stone bridge at midnight. Bring nothing but your heart.
Nila was waiting, drenched and shivering, her mother having already been sent away to a safe house in the countryside. When she saw Ridoy approaching on a single horse, stripped of his jewels and his sword, she burst into tears.
"You're leaving it all?" she sobbed. "The throne, the power... for me?"
Ridoy dismounted and took her face in his hands. "The throne is a chair, Nila. The power is an illusion. But this—what I feel when I'm with you—is the only real thing I've ever owned."
"They will hunt you," she warned.
"Let them," Ridoy replied. "They'll be looking for a Prince. They won't be looking for a man named Ridoy who wants nothing more than to help his wife sew lavender bags and sell oranges."
They fled into the night, crossing the border into the neighboring territories before the sun could rise.
Years later, in a small coastal village far from the golden spires of Aethelgard, a man and a woman lived in a cottage draped in jasmine. The man was a local carpenter, known for his steady hands and his quiet, regal bearing. The woman was the village's favorite storyteller, her voice full of music and her eyes always bright with laughter.
They were poor by the standards of kings. Their "treasure" consisted of a small garden, a warm hearth, and a daughter with deep, resilient eyes.
Back in Aethelgard, the statues of Prince Ridoy remained, cold and silent. But in the heart of the village by the sea, Ridoy was finally warm. He had traded a crown of gold for a life of love, and in the arms of Nila, he realized he had never been richer.