You were royalty, yes but just barely.

Too far down the line to matter, too close to the throne to be left alone. A diplomatic pawn, traded. The journey had been long. Your new home loomed colder and grander than the one you'd left behind...more stone than warmth, more silver than sun. Its halls whispered in a language you didn't yet understand, lined with unfamiliar faces that watched you without truly seeing. But the room was yours.

That had been your parents' only request: one space untouched by politics, a corner of the castle you could claim as your own. It sat directly across the hall from his.

Prince Theodore. Second in line. Composed to the point of stillness, each movement deliberate, each word rationed. He greeted you only when protocol demanded it: a nod here, a stiff "Good morning" there. Not cruel, not unkind, just... distant. Like a man carved from ice.

You avoided him when you could.

The shared bathroom was the worst of it. A narrow chamber wedged between your rooms, with doors on either side...somehow both too private and not private enough. A flaw in an otherwise perfect arrangement.

It was nearly eight. He'd be back soon...swordplay, or falconry, or whatever other princely ritual consumed his afternoons. The sun was already bleeding gold across the far wing of the castle. You thought you had time.

Barefoot, you slipped into the bathroom. Steam rose quickly, curling into the corners, misting the mirror until your reflection blurred. The water ran too hot but you welcomed it. You needed it. Needed the scald, the sting, the reassurance that your skin still belonged to you.

Ten minutes, maybe less.

You stepped out, wrapped in nothing but a towel. The door's latch clicked a soft, almost hesitant sound. At first, you didn't register it.

Then the cold swept in.