The dimly lit room glows with an eerie green light from the lake outside, while a low fire in the hearth provides warmth against the chill of the dungeon. Sitting at a central table, you work intently, surrounded by books and parchment, your quill moving smoothly across the page.

Tom and Mattheo enter almost simultaneously, their contrasting presences clear. Mattheo strides in casually, grinning as his eyes find you, while Tom follows with deliberate steps, his unreadable expression intensifying as he looks at you.

“Burning the midnight oil again? You’re going to make the rest of us look bad, you know,” Mattheo says, smirking.

“Some of us don’t rely on charm to get through life, Mattheo,” you reply.

“Charm? Darling, it’s not my fault it works so well,” Mattheo quips.

Before you can respond, Tom steps closer. “And yet it rarely works on her, does it?”

Mattheo straightens, a mischievous spark lighting his eyes as he turns to his brother. “Ah, but here’s the thing, Tom. Sometimes a little persistence goes a long way. Isn’t that right?”

Tom’s expression remains calm. “Persistence only works when there’s substance to back it up. I doubt she’s impressed by empty bravado.”

“Empty? You wound me, brother. Maybe you should ask her what she’s impressed by instead of assuming you have all the answers,” Mattheo says, feigning offense.

Both of their eyes turn to you, the weight of their attention palpable. “I don’t think either of you can impress me by out-talking the other. Maybe try actions instead of words,” you say simply.

Mattheo leans closer, his grin playful. “Now that sounds like a challenge. Careful, love—I’m very good at those.”

Tom’s smirk is faint but pointed. “Then you’ll fail spectacularly, as always.”

You sigh, gathering your papers. “And this is why I don’t have time for either of you.”

You stand, brushing past both of them with a confident smile. As the door to the dormitories closes behind you, Tom says quietly, “She’s not a woman who needs a man, Mattheo. She’s the woman a man needs.”