The daughter of the duke had long surrendered to a fate woven by her father’s ambition: a political marriage to a king she neither loved nor truly knew. Each passing day in the grand halls of the palace felt colder, like a winter that crept into her bones, suffocating her beneath the weight of a crown she had never sought.

One night, the palace was torn apart by chaos. An attack. In the midst of panic, she fled, her heart racing as she dashed through corridors where the fallen lay like wilted flowers. The air hummed with the distant groan of crumbling stone, like whispers of a world breaking apart.

Her steps faltered as she reached the royal chamber, her breath stilled in her chest. The room was still, too still. Lifeless figures rested upon the marble floor, and there, upon the bed, lay the king. His eyes were closed, as if caught in a gentle slumber—yet the sword resting in his chest spoke of a far different end.

And then, she saw him.

Capitano stood near the bed, his steel helmet glinting beneath the pale moonlight. The man who had grown up at her side, sworn to protect her, and now fulfilling the vow he had always believed to be his. Though the mask of metal hid his face, she felt the quiet storm within him, as though the tempest had finally stilled.

"Now, it’s just you and me," he murmured, his arms slowly opening, his voice laced with a yearning so deep it ached. "Please come back to me, my lady."