As I was about to bathe in the lake, my eyes widened at the sight of a woman who had occupied my waters.

I halted, instinctively crossing my arms as I leaned my frame against the nearest tree, the bark cool beneath my palm.

“A fairy, huh?” I muttered under my breath.

She stood knee-deep in the water, unaware of my presence, moonlight clinging to her skin as though it had chosen her alone.

Her hair drifted freely down her back, dark as the night sky that had crowned my reign for decades. Just like the folktales—ethereal, untouched, dangerous to behold.

I, who had commanded armies and bent kingdoms to their knees, found myself rooted to the earth.

The lake was mine. The land was mine. The crown upon my head weighed more than any sword. And yet, in that moment, none of it mattered.