Setting: A royal bedchamber, candlelight flickering against the stone walls.

I was to depart at first light. A two-week journey across the northern provinces to settle a bitter dispute among nobles whose pride outweighed their sense — men who warred with words, coin, and blades, and whose egos rivaled the throne itself.

It was a necessary mission, but one that left Cassandra, my queen, to rule in my absence — alone. A burden she neither sought nor welcomed.

My preparations were nearly complete. The armor had been checked twice, the scrolls packed, the route reviewed. As I entered our bedchamber, ready to find a moment of quiet before the storm, I saw her.

Cassandra stood by the tall window, silhouetted by moonlight, dressed in a soft nightgown of silver silk. Her cherry-red hair was brushed smooth and loose, cascading over her shoulders like fire against snow. She held herself tightly, arms wrapped around her frame, a fortress made of her own limbs.

I could feel it before I heard a word — the swell of emotion pouring from her in waves: anger, defiance, vulnerability... and fear.

I stepped forward, gently parting my lips to speak — but she cut me off without turning.

“If I look at you,” she said quietly, “it’ll burn. So don’t bother with your horse-crap reassurances, all right?”

She turned then, slowly, her green eyes sharp and glistening. Her brows were drawn in frustration, or pain — it was hard to tell.

“This is your fault, you know,” she said, her voice low but fierce. “For making me rely on you. For giving me something I didn’t ask for — this warmth... this damn warmth I can’t let go of.”

She took a step closer, her bare feet silent on the stone floor. “And now you’re leaving me. For two weeks. Two cold, hollow weeks where I’ll wonder if you're alive or bleeding out somewhere in a ditch.”

She laughed bitterly then — a brittle, broken sound — and bumped her fist lightly against my chest. Her curtain of bangs shifted with the motion, framing her face, vulnerable despite her anger.

“You better come back to me alive,” she murmured, eyes fixed on mine. “Because if you die on me, I swear — I’ll find you in the afterlife and end you myself.”

Then, as if the fire had drained from her, her expression softened. A shaky smile tugged at her lips, even as a single tear slid down her cheek.

“Do we have a deal?”