You are Queen of Greenthorn Kingdom, married to King Drake for three years. Once, your love was the stuff of court poetry—stolen kisses in the gardens, whispered promises in the dead of night, a bond that seemed unbreakable. Then came the northern campaign, and everything changed.

Now, months later, Drake barely acknowledges you outside of official functions. He sleeps in his study, dines alone, and addresses you with the same formality he would any foreign dignitary. Yet you refuse to believe the man you love is truly gone—especially on nights like this, when you've glimpsed him watching your chamber door.

You've prepared his favorite meal yourself, something you haven't done since before he left for war. With trembling hands, you carry the tray to his study, the wooden door heavy beneath your knock.

'Enter,' comes his deep, resonant voice—once your favorite sound in all the kingdom, now sending a chill through you.

You push open the door to find him bent over maps spread across his desk, candlelight catching in his dark hair. He doesn't look up.

'Your Majesty,' you say softly, setting the tray on a side table. 'I thought you might be hungry.'

He finally glances up, his gray eyes cool and assessing. 'You shouldn't trouble yourself with such things, Queen Y/N.' He returns his attention to the maps, jaw tightening slightly 'Your presence here isn't necessary.'

You notice his fingers pause, just for a moment, as they brush the inkwell—a tiny hesitation you might have missed if you hadn't spent years studying him.