The ballroom of Buckingham Palace shimmered with a dazzling storm of power.
The flowing melody of the waltz drifted like a golden river beneath the colossal crystal chandeliers. Princes and nobles from across Europe, adorned like meticulous peacocks with their feathers proudly displayed, moved in and out of the dance floor in graceful currents. The air was thick with expensive perfume, fine cigars, and the sweet scent of champagne.
Arthur stood quietly in the shadow of a far corner, a glass of wine in his hand.
He disliked events this noisy and extravagant, yet he had no choice but to attend. It was a necessary step for anyone who wished to integrate into the world's highest circles. And his gaze, inevitably and irresistibly, always drifted toward the radiant figure in the center of the ballroom—Princess Victoria.
That evening, she was without question the brightest jewel of the entire gathering. A white gown adorned with pearls made her appear both pure and noble. With a perfectly poised smile, she greeted the guests who came to congratulate her. Every movement she made reflected the composure and bearing expected of a future queen.
Arthur noticed something hidden behind that ceremonial smile. Her sapphire-blue eyes wandered through the crowd, searching—almost unconsciously—for someone.
That tiny gesture filled Arthur's heart with a sudden warmth.
He knew she was looking for him.
He was just about to straighten his tie and step out of the shadows when the master of ceremonies suddenly raised his voice, heavy with deliberate emotion, ringing out like a bell striking through the music and conversation.
"Announcing the arrival of our distinguished guest from the Duchy of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha—His Royal Highness Prince Albert!"
The name carried a peculiar kind of magic.
The once-noisy hall fell silent within seconds. The dancers froze mid-step, the nobles paused mid-conversation, and every gaze turned toward the entrance as if drawn by an invisible force.
Arthur followed their line of sight.
A young man stepped slowly into the ballroom, surrounded respectfully by attendants.
Arthur's pupils narrowed.
Even with a modern sense of beauty shaped by later generations of celebrities and icons, the man before him could only be described as striking—almost unnervingly so.
He was around twenty, tall and well-built, wearing a pristine white German princely uniform. Golden sashes and epaulettes shimmered under the light. Thick, soft brown hair framed his clear features, and his pale skin made his expression seem almost sculpted.
But it was his eyes that commanded attention. A deeper blue than Victoria's—like an alpine glacial lake—steady, composed, and bearing the quiet pride of one born into the oldest royal lines of Europe.
This was Albert.
Victoria's cousin and, in the original course of history, the man destined to become her husband and profoundly influence both her life and the entire British Empire.
(The mother of Victoria—Princess Victoria of Saxe-Coburg-Saalfeld—was the full sister of Albert's father, Duke Ernest I of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha. Though Albert was three months younger, European tradition recognized them as first cousins.)
The moment Arthur saw him, he felt something he could only describe as a "historical corrective force." No matter how much he had already changed this world, certain figures seemed fated to appear at the most crucial times, on the most significant stages.
Albert's arrival was not simply the appearance of a romantic rival.
He represented a form of legitimacy that the European aristocracy considered unquestionable. In their eyes, a union between Albert and Victoria was not merely appropriate—it was ideal.
And Arthur?
A merchant of uncertain origins. A "new money" man who rose through innovation.
To these powdered, lineage-obsessed old nobles, he was scarcely qualified even to stand on the same playing field.
Albert paid no attention to the admiring stares around him. From the moment he entered, his gaze swept the room and came to rest gently—yet unmistakably—on Victoria.
He walked straight toward her.
Victoria, seeing Albert, greeted him with a sincere smile touched by surprise and something more complex.
"Albert! Cousin!" She lifted her gown lightly and stepped forward.
"My dear cousin, Victoria." Albert stopped before her, bowed with impeccable etiquette, took her hand, and brushed a polite kiss across her knuckles. "Congratulations on reaching adulthood. You are even more beautiful than I imagined."
His voice was deep and magnetic, his compliment elegant enough to draw small sighs from the ladies nearby.
The conductor, an elderly man with sharp instincts, witnessed the scene and gently raised his baton.
Right on cue, a new and even more melodious waltz began.
Albert offered his gloved hand to Victoria with a confident smile and a graceful invitation.
"So then, my newly adult and most radiant princess," he said warmly, "may I have the highest honor of sharing tonight's opening dance with you?"
To everyone watching, the invitation seemed natural—inevitable, even.
Childhood companions. Cousins. Equal in nobility, appearance, and reputation. A perfect pair, like characters from a fairy tale.
All eyes fixed on Victoria, waiting for her to accept.
Her heart trembled with hesitation. Refusing Albert would be seen as publicly slighting an honored guest who had traveled far. In aristocratic society, that bordered on a grave offense.
She drew a breath, preparing to nod—
—and her gaze slipped past Albert's broad shoulders.
She found Arthur.
He stood just where he had been, watching her with quiet stillness. There was no anxiety on his face, no urgency—only a serene certainty, an unspoken promise.
And when she met his eyes, time seemed to pause.
A voice inside her whispered: Follow your heart.
A surge of courage filled her.
She inhaled slowly, then shook her head with a calmness that stunned even herself.
"I am very sorry, Albert."
Her gentle voice carried clearly through the silent ballroom.
"The first dance tonight has already… been promised to another gentleman."
With that single sentence, the perfect smile on Albert's face froze.
And the entire ballroom fell into a deathly hush.