"Never, in the long and rich history of England, had a monarch dared to openly declare themselves gay. What gave His Majesty the courage?"

When the reporter asked the question Oliver had been expecting, he replied thoughtfully:

"Exactly. Imagine how many royal figures didn't live their lives because they were bound by centuries-old traditions. I'm not saying those rules didn't make sense in the past, but nowadays, it's pointless to keep someone captive to an idea of stability that is nothing more than a measure of social control," he stated firmly. "I am still the king, and although my position no longer has political functions, I believe that changing people's beliefs doesn't come through repression, but by example. I want them to understand that the gender of the person I love doesn't define who I am."

The next day, it was not unlikely that the photo of Oliver kissing Ian in the gardens of Buckingham Palace would be in all the tabloids. The notoriety of their relationship didn't surprise them; however, it prompted a temporary strategy of seclusion to prepare for an open dialogue with the public and the media.

The Palace had received countless calls from journalists for almost a month, but for the first time, Oliver would do things his way.

With the support of the public relations team, he called a press conference to face the public scrutiny transparently and without fear.

Responding to various questions, a young reporter dared to inquire, "Was there a lot of repression?"

"Repression is not the right word," Oliver clarified, maintaining his composure. "There was definitely resistance, but a large part of the population showed support on social media. My revelation not only challenged stereotypes but also provided a mirror in which many could see themselves for the first time." He paused significantly, staring firmly at the camera. "My goal is not to impose a new way of living, but to promote the understanding that there is no reason to disrespect someone for having a different mindset. I preach empathy above all, and as I've said before, the fact that I am in a relationship with another man does not change how I relate to my people. That should be the most important issue."

"If I may, Your Majesty, how does your partner deal with all the exposure?"

A third reporter inquired, but this question did not intimidate Oliver; on the contrary, it gave him the opportunity to talk about Ian.

"Well, he's definitely not the type of person used to the spotlight," Oliver replied, his voice full of affection. "He's not a celebrity and has no ambition in that sense. But he knew what he was getting into when he got involved with me." He paused briefly, a subtle smile appearing on his lips. "Ian is the rational counterpoint to my more impulsive nature. Once, I read that many go through life without finding that person with whom they would like to share it entirely. I am immensely grateful to have had the luck to find mine, and happy to have the opportunity to live what surely many of my predecessors could not."

"You two must have been shocked to see the photo on the cover of The Sun," one of the reporters speculated.

Oliver shook his head slightly, the tranquility evident in his posture. "Actually, it didn't surprise me at all. I knew there were paparazzi camped outside the Palace. So, I simply gave them what they wanted."

He locked his phone before the video ended, lifting his gaze to meet Ian's eyes.

His face bore a proud smile, as if he had just watched an applause-worthy performance, but it was only Oliver, sitting at the official office table, answering questions for almost an hour.

"What did you think?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.

He wanted to hear it directly from Ian's lips.

"Well, you were brilliant in mentioning the role of the monarchy, used poetic words to refer to me, and made a cute reference to Fellow Travelers," Ian enumerated, laughing when he reached the part about the veiled pop culture quote under the classic 'I read somewhere' speech. His eyes sparkled with a touch of apprehension, but his smile did not waver. "You were incredible."

Oliver stepped closer, gently smoothing the lapels of Ian's elegant tuxedo, the fine silk gliding under his fingers.

Earlier, Ian had protested, saying he wouldn't look good in white, but Oliver had vehemently countered, asserting that he would look magnificent in any color.

"Nervous?" Oliver asked, wrapping Ian's shoulders with a familiar gesture.

His eyes were fixed on his, and he noticed a hint of anxiety reflected in Ian's piercing gaze.

"A little," Ian admitted, and Oliver felt his warm hands wrap around his waist with the usual affection. "And you?"

"Absolutely not," Oliver replied, honestly. "I'm overflowing with happiness."

"Really?" Ian asked, playfully, but pulled Oliver closer as he fought the urge to mess up Ian's perfectly arranged hair.

Then, Ian joined their lips in a delicate and unhurried kiss, as if they had all the time in the world.

For a moment, Oliver forgot they were in that small inn in Edinburgh, a charming property that looked more like a medieval castle, with its rustic stones and arched windows.

In fact, they were stuck in the antechamber of the ballroom, stalling to begin that impromptu ceremony.

"We need to go," Oliver suggested with a reluctant sigh, letting Ian's lips brush his jaw in soft, tempting kisses. A mischievous smile appeared on his face. "They must be on the brink of impatience."

"Knowing Laura, she must be on the verge of a nervous breakdown," Ian agreed with a soft laugh. However, when he raised his face to meet Oliver's gaze, his eyes shone with a seriousness that surprised him.

Oliver seized the opportunity to tease him: "You're not thinking of backing out, are you?" He joked, sliding his hands over the immaculate collar of Ian's white shirt, adjusting it unnecessarily.

Ian looked at Oliver with a distracted expression, seemingly oblivious to the teasing.

"No," he replied, the determination in his voice momentarily taking Oliver's breath away. "You know I'm not a fan of traditional vows, and I believe we don't need a spectacle – only you need to know how I feel." His eyes sparkled intensely. "So, I prepared two versions: a summary and an uncensored one. I want to share the uncensored version with you now, while we're alone. Is that okay?"

Oliver nodded, feeling the anxiety and anticipation grow as Ian watched him, eager to reveal what he had prepared.

"Here it goes," Ian paused, tilting his head to look at Oliver more closely. The world around them seemed to fade away, all attention focused on each other. "When we met, I would never have imagined that you would have the courage to take control of your life and come out to the whole world." Typical of Ian, he softened the intensity of the statement with a touch of humor. "Don't get me wrong, the Oliver before was incredibly attractive, but this Oliver is, besides that, an admirable man."

Ian took a deep breath, and Oliver understood the significance when he continued: "I know our lives have had more turbulence than I would like, but I never stopped longing for this moment." He paused, his fingers gently sliding over Oliver's arm. "I never understood people's obsession with weddings, maybe I've mentioned this before, but you completely changed my perception of love."

His eyes locked with Oliver's, the intensity of his gaze enveloping him completely.

"Before, love was something utopian, that I read about and saw in movies, but it didn't awaken anything in me. Today, here we are, without artifices, just the two of us, a small part of our families, and a dog that, by the way, we should take to Windsor, and I feel completely fulfilled."

Oliver laughed, but the knot in his voice indicated that tears were already forming, moved by Ian's sincere and loving words.

Ian paused; his eyes fixed on Oliver as he gently held his hands. "What I mean, Oliver, is that I love your compassionate, sweet, and extremely reckless way."

Ian's gentle touch sent waves of warmth through Oliver, and he felt his heart fill with love for this incredible man.

"I love that you have no idea how absurdly beautiful you are, even when you just wake up, it's irritating." Ian smiled, his fingers tenderly caressing the backs of Oliver's hands. "But I love even more the fact that you've faced so many obstacles, pains and disappointments, and never, at any time, gave up moving forward. And you never gave up on me."

His words, so deep and sincere, made Oliver catch his breath.

"When I said I wanted everything with you, Oliver, I meant it very seriously." His fingers intertwined firmly with Oliver's. "I want every second of life by your side. Lazy Sunday mornings, afternoon teas, movie nights or sleepless nights. Children, pets, conversations, arguments... absolutely everything."

Oliver felt tears rolling down his face as Ian spoke, his voice filled with affection and determination. "Because even problems have a purpose if I can keep having you with me in the end."

He exhaled, frowning slightly in a gesture that tried to hide his emotion.

Ian's words touched the depths of his heart, filling him with indescribable happiness. At that moment, Oliver knew that his love for Ian was true and eternal, transcending any conventions or social expectations. All that mattered was the deep connection they shared, a bond forged by destiny and nurtured by an unprecedented mutual understanding.

"I can't believe you're going to make me walk in like this," he complained, but Ian smiled, bringing his hands to Oliver's face and covering his lips with repeated kisses.

Ian's soft touch and lips were so comfortable, so sweet, it felt like part of him.

"The summary is basically: I love you," he said simply, in a whispering tone that enveloped Oliver in the best feelings. "And I want to spend the rest of my life watching you curse at the TV during Arsenal games, staying up late on the computer writing, and teaching me the correct way to make your Earl Grey."

Oliver's heart fluttered, the uniqueness of Ian's words captivating him completely.

"And I'll still find a way to mess up occasionally," Ian concluded, finally pushing Oliver to the edge.

Tears flowed freely down Oliver's face, a torrent of emotions flooding his being. He pulled Ian close, burying his face in his chest, letting his heart overflow without restraint.

"I hate you," Oliver murmured, his words muffled by the fine fabric of Ian's jacket and the tight knot in his throat.

Ian chuckled softly, his fingers gently sliding through Oliver's hair in a comforting gesture before Oliver lifted his head to meet his gaze. Even with teary eyes, Ian's face displayed a radiant smile, as if he were beholding the most precious sight in the world. His thumbs soon caressed Oliver's cheeks, wiping away the stubborn tears.

"Save your vows for later, sweetheart," Ian teased, his voice husky yet terribly seductive.

Oliver was about to retort when the thunderous sound of the double doors against the stone walls interrupted the moment.

A small figure appeared at the entrance, her golden curls bouncing as Lily ran towards them. Her big green eyes, so similar to Oliver's, sparkled when she saw him, and she promptly held his face with her chubby little hands.

"Daddy, are you sad?" she asked, gently squeezing his cheeks in her typical affectionate gesture.

"No, my love," Oliver replied with a smile, getting lost in her pure and innocent gaze. "I'm just very emotional. These are tears of happiness."

"Aunt Laura is grumpy," Lily explained gently. Sometimes, Oliver wondered how someone so small could be so adorable. "She wants you to go in soon."

"Alright. We'll be there in a moment," Oliver murmured, watching her turn and run back to the hall, the tail of her white dress fluttering behind her like a cotton cloud.

He stood up, smoothing the impeccable suit he wore, and turned to Ian, who was looking at him with a gaze full of deep devotion.

"Ready, Your Majesty?" Ian said, extending his hands towards Oliver, his long, elegant fingers inviting him to hold them.

"For bloody years, Counselor," Oliver replied, gripping Ian's hands with firm and unwavering determination.

◃───────────▹

That day, every detail seemed to have been carefully orchestrated by experienced hands.

Laura and Alice had transformed the inn into a time capsule, suspending them in a moment where the past and the future met. The décor, although demonstrating the simplicity of those who knew the true value of things, spoke louder than any opulent ornament.

It was simplicity in its purest and most moving form.

Crossing the threshold of that door, Oliver's eyes could hardly believe what they saw: arrangements of dried flowers, like small works of art, adorned an improvised altar, surrounded by just half a dozen chairs — an intimate council of witnesses that included his mother, holding Lily with a radiant smile, and Ian's parents and grandmother, Alice and Lana, all with their reserved seats.

And there, in the center of the scene, stood Laura, the regent of that ephemeral kingdom, holding a folder that seemed to carry the passport to their new life together.

Her expression radiated a joy that would hardly be contained, even by the strictest code of etiquette. Oliver's slight frown was involuntary, a silent question mark at her presence there, as the master of ceremonies for their union.

"She took a course," Ian whispered, his voice tinged with humor.

The hall was bathed in a golden glow, the last rays of the setting sun filtering through the tall windows. Ian and Oliver walked in sync, as if their steps were choreographed in a dance just for them. The blue carpet muffled their movements, transforming them into a silent melody.

The orange light that filled the room enveloped them in an ethereal glow, as if they were figures sculpted directly from the most beautiful dreams. The warm colors of twilight framed them, highlighting the aura of hope and promises that surrounded them, as palpable as the warmth that embraced them.

When they finally reached Laura, her whispered greeting sounded like a triumphant shout: "Finally!"

Ian rolled his eyes slightly, but his smile couldn't hide the genuine happiness he felt. Oliver let out a crystalline laugh. In that moment, it was visible how deep their love was and the certainty that they were about to seal an unforgettable new chapter in their lives.

The golden light of the sunset entering through the windows bathed the scene with a special glow, almost like a blessing for the journey Ian and Oliver had taken together to get there. The presence of their loved ones made that moment even more significant.

"Today we celebrate a victory of resilient hearts, the living proof that true love always finds its way," declared Laura, her eyes shining with pride as she looked at Oliver and her brother. "I've witnessed the obstacles you both faced, and I can say I've never seen Ian so complete, not even when he got his first video game at eight years old."

Ian smiled openly, letting the emotion he tried to contain show. Oliver couldn't help but laugh, imagining Ian as a child, beaming with his new toy.

"I've watched you grow and become incredible men," Laura continued with tenderness. "Ian, that impetuous boy finally found his serenity. And you, Oliver, my incorrigible dreamer, finally reached your happy ending." She paused dramatically, as if about to reveal a precious secret. "And now, it's Lily's turn to shine!"

With a gesture, she called the little girl who was sitting on Eleanor's lap.

Without hesitation, Lily immediately jumped up and ran to Ian and Oliver, holding a small box carefully. With a broad smile, she handed it to Ian, as if she had rehearsed that moment many times. Laura stifled a giggle as she watched the girl proudly return to her grandmother's arms, satisfied for completing her task.

Oliver turned slowly to face Ian, and he did the same, their gazes meeting with an intensity that seemed to light up the entire room.

"Would you like to say a few words?" Laura's soft voice broke the silence laden with emotion. Oliver and Ian exchanged a knowing look, a smile of understanding on their lips, before Oliver took the lead with a nod.

"It's curious how, in moments like this, we never know exactly what to say," he began, mesmerized by Ian's serene beauty. "You've inspired me to write countless stories and poems. I've filled thousands of pages with verses and paragraphs about you, about us, but I've never been able to capture the exact definition of what our story represents. Maybe because it's something so unique, so special, that words would never be enough to capture its essence."

Oliver paused, watching Ian's smile waver, who clenched his jaw and swallowed hard, fighting to hold back the tears that glistened in his eyes.

"As Laura said, and you well know, we fought against all odds to be together today. And even though this ceremony might not hold the same value for the rest of the world as it does for us, I can assure you that, if happiness exists, it's what I'm feeling right now, here, by your side." The words seemed to catch in Oliver's throat, threatening to overwhelm him, but he concluded: "I haven't stopped loving you for a single second, not when we were together, and even less when we were apart. You made me feel alive, valuable, complete. And I will always be grateful to you for that."

Ian took a minute to absorb Oliver's words, his fingers trembling as he opened the small box, revealing two golden rings that shone under the soft light of the hall. He picked the visibly larger ring and, somewhat clumsily, handed it to Oliver. An inevitable smile appeared on Oliver's face as he took Ian's hand, gently sliding the jewelry onto his ring finger, feeling the soft texture of his skin.

"There you go," said Ian with a radiant smile, his eyes sparkling with happiness.

"Your turn, Ian," said Laura, watching her brother struggle with his words, clearly lost in the moment.

Ian took the other ring from the box before handing it to Laura, taking a deep breath to compose himself.

"My mother says I like speeches, and it's true. But I risk being redundant if I say everything you already know," he began, diving into Oliver's eyes with a transparent sincerity that made Oliver's body warm. "We belong to each other, Oliver. It's strange to think of a past where we didn't know each other, as if I wasn't myself, as if a part of me was missing and I didn't even know it. You're the only person who knows me completely, and if you haven't left me yet, it's a sign that we're forever," his smile widened, even as tears began to accumulate in his eyes again. "I will love you eternally, deeply, tirelessly."

With a sidelong glance, Oliver saw Laura gently wipe her own tears and clear her throat before finally saying:

"Congratulations. You're stuck with each other now." She laughed softly, and Oliver could see in Ian's eyes that he was as eager for the culmination as he was, until Laura said: "You may kiss."

Oliver's heart raced as Ian took his hand, pulling him closer.

He felt Ian's warmth, Ian's love, and knew that was where he belonged.

When Ian kissed him, Oliver felt a sense of belonging he had only ever experienced with him. He could taste a slight saltiness on Ian's lips. Were they his tears or Ian's? Ian's hand caressed Oliver's face tenderly before breaking the kiss with a gentle smile.

In Ian's eyes, Oliver saw everything. His future painted in dark chocolate freckles.

◃───────────▹

After a few glasses of champagne, Ian was comfortably tipsy enough to pull Oliver by the hand and wrap him in an awkward dance to the sound of the carefully curated playlist Alice had selected for the evening.

His face was dotted with beads of sweat, his tie undone, and his jacket long abandoned somewhere.

Ian wrapped his arm around Oliver's shoulders, his drink threatening to spill from the glass with the movement. Oliver tilted his chin slightly upwards so that their lips met softly, their teeth lightly clashing due to their wide smiles.

By then, Eleanor had already left with Lily and Lana, as had Ian's parents and Maria. Only the two of them, Alice, and Laura remained in the room that was definitely too big for the small group, but it couldn't have been more perfect.

"What are you thinking about?" Ian asked, his speech slightly slower due to the influence of alcohol.

Oliver wrapped his arms around Ian's waist at an awkward angle, never breaking their gaze.

"Just about how much hate I'm going to get for taking you off the market," he joked.

"Taking me off the market?" Ian laughed as if Oliver had made some absurd comment. "What kind of expression is that?"

"A very common one," Oliver replied, shrugging, as he closed his eyes for a moment, leaning in to press their lips together once more.

"Can I confess something?" Ian's whispered question came hot against his mouth, and curiosity hit him at the tone of secrecy.

"Always," Oliver replied, letting his hands roam over the damp, wrinkled fabric of Ian's shirt.

"I still feel like none of this is real," Ian said, lowering his voice so that no one else could hear. "I'm afraid that any moment, I'll wake up on the other side of the world with a terrible hangover and an empty bed."

Ian's words stirred something inside Oliver, causing him to pull back and look at him with sadness and a slight expression of reprimand.

"Don't say that again," Oliver insisted, holding Ian's face in his hands. His thumbs traced the impeccably trimmed beard, slightly tilting his chin to meet his gaze. "This is real. I might not be able to marry you legally at this moment, but that's just a matter of time. I'll make sure the whole world knows you're mine and only mine."

Ian's smile spread across his face, more suggestive and inviting.

"Am I?" he asked, with a touch of challenge and playfulness.

Oliver raised an eyebrow in response, his tone equally teasing. "Do you have any doubt?"

Ian pretended to think, his eyes rolling dramatically toward the ceiling before returning to Oliver's gaze.

"You make it so easy to forget," Ian confessed, sounding low and provocative — a dangerous game, and he knew it. "I guess I'll need you to refresh my memory."

Oliver tilted his head slightly and murmured a "Hmm," before quickly pulling away, leaving Ian perplexed.

With calculated steps, Oliver moved to pick up Ian's jacket, carelessly draped over a chair.

"We're leaving!" He announced in a firm tone, loud enough for the girls at the dining table to hear.

Ian blinked, stunned, opening and closing his mouth without finding words.

He was confused, but seeing the intense and suggestive look in Oliver's eyes at the door, everything became clear.

He said, "Are you coming?"

And without hesitation, Ian followed quickly.

As soon as the suite door closed behind them, Oliver felt strangely nervous. He walked ahead of Ian to the center of the room, discarding his jacket anywhere before stopping, turning to face him.

Their eyes met, and at that moment, Oliver had the sensation of standing on the edge of a precipice, about to take a free fall.

Undressing under Ian's attentive gaze no longer had the same urgency, the same sense of being on borrowed time until Ian had to sneak out of Oliver's room in Windsor, or Oliver had to wake up before the staff at the Zarzuela Palace to catch his flight back to England.

And seeing him there, gorgeous as hell, with huge pupils and dimples in his smile, was enough for Oliver to question reality.

"Does it feel different for you too?" Oliver asked, his fingers playing with the first button of his shirt.

Ian followed every movement hypnotized, almost without breathing.

"Yes. But I don't know why." He replied, and Oliver laughed, a light and effervescent sound bubbling from his throat. "It's us."

"It's us. But we're not the same," Oliver approached a few inches, fingers swiftly unbuckling the belt and opening the waistband of his pants.

Ian gasped. He bit his lower lip. He didn't move, though.

"No?"

"No." Oliver didn't elaborate because he knew what it would provoke in Ian when the sophisticated linen joined the other pieces on the floor. "We're free. No guards, no royal protocols, no..."

"No need to whisper," Ian finished, whispering nonetheless.

"Exactly," Oliver agreed, taking a step forward. "Do you know what else we can do without worry?"

Ian raised an eyebrow, curious. "What?"

"This," Oliver responded, pressing Ian's chest and pushing him against the closed door. "And this..." He leaned in, their lips meeting with an enveloping gentleness that erased Ian's smile instantly.

Oliver's hands explored Ian's body with reverence and calm, his fingers tracing every defined muscle. He felt Ian sigh amidst their kiss, a shy, muffled sound that never failed to make him lose focus.

Without warning, Ian switched their positions, lifting him off the ground and pressing him against the wall.

"You know," Oliver murmured, wrapping his legs firmly around Ian's waist, "I don't think I'll ever get tired of this."

Ian's hands slid down Oliver's torso, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

"Of this what?" Ian teased, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

Oliver traced the outline of Ian's face with his fingertips, feeling the roughness of his stubble. "Of being able to touch you like this. Of being able to kiss you whenever I want. Of not having to count the minutes until you have to leave."

Ian's smile melted Oliver's heart. "Well, Your Majesty, I have good news for you. I don't plan on going anywhere."

When their bodies finally came together, a sigh escaped Oliver's lips, carrying the weight of years of waiting, repressed desires, and deferred dreams. It was as if every cell in his body was waking up from a long sleep, vibrating with an energy he never knew existed within him.

There was no past or future, only the eternal present of that moment.

Ian filled him not just physically but seemed to touch every empty corner of his soul. Oliver wondered if it was possible to feel so complete, so utterly whole.

Ian wasted no time with unnecessary provocations.

His movements were direct, precise, as if he knew exactly what Oliver needed before he could even articulate it. Every kiss, every caress, every thrust brought them closer to the edge of what they could take.

The contrast between the heat of their bodies and the cold of Ian's wedding ring against his skin was a constant reminder of the promise they had made to each other. It was more than a symbol of their marriage; it was the physical manifestation of the bond that united them, as real and tangible as the pleasure coursing through their bodies.

Pressed against the wall, Oliver felt the roughness of the surface on his back, a counterpoint to the softness of Ian's skin. Each collision with the wall anchored him there, clutching Ian's shoulders as if his life depended on it, preventing him from completely losing himself in the wave of sensations threatening to engulf him.

The sensations grew in intensity, each more overwhelming than the last. It was like being at the epicenter of an earthquake, where each tremor was stronger than the one before.

When the pleasure reached its peak, it wasn't a sudden explosion or an abrupt climax. It was like watching the sunrise after the longest and darkest of nights. It started as a soft glow on the horizon of his consciousness, gradually growing in intensity until his entire being was bathed in a golden light of ecstasy.

It was sweet, dazzling, almost sacred in its beauty.

But also...

"That was fast," Oliver said, breathless but with a playful smile.

"There's a limit to what a man can take," Ian teased back, a wide smile lighting up his face as he looked at Oliver.

With a fluid motion that never ceased to impress Oliver, Ian lifted him in his arms, and soon Oliver found himself enveloped by Ian's warmth and strength.

He could feel every muscle in Ian's body moving against his own, the erratic rhythm of his heartbeat pulsing against his hypersensitive skin. Ian's lips never left Oliver's skin as he carried him to the bed, leaving a trail of noisy kisses that made him laugh openly.

Ian laid him on the bed with a gentleness that contrasted with the ferocity of moments before. The soft touch of the cool sheets against his back made Oliver shiver, a feeling of relaxation washing over him.

"I'm sure there's more where that came from," Oliver stated with a challenging smile. "I hope you're not planning on disappointing me."

Ian's laughter filled the room, a rich, deep sound that reverberated in Oliver's chest. His eyes shone with an intoxicating mix of mischief and adoration as he positioned himself over Oliver once again.

The weight of his body, the warmth of his skin, the proximity of his lips — all of it made Oliver feel enveloped, protected, desired.
And then came Ian's promise, one that carried more meanings than one, and Oliver knew he was speaking the truth:

"Believe me, I could never disappoint you."