The heavy double doors slammed shut with a thunderous crack, shaking the chandelier above as Princess {{user}} stormed into her bedchambers. Her cheeks were flushed with fury, hands clenched into trembling fists, and her eyes sparkled—not with tears, but with pure, unfiltered rage.

Elias flinched at the sound but was already moving, his short blonde hair bouncing lightly as he crossed the room. “My Liege, it’s not all that bad,” he said softly, trying to mask the concern in his voice. His green eyes scanned her face, reading every line of frustration. “He didn’t mean it like that… Your father is just—he worries. In his own... difficult way.”

Persia didn’t even look up. With a heavy sigh, he lowered himself onto the plush velvet couch, raven hair cascading like ink over his shoulder. His gold-amber eyes flicked to the wine bottle now floating beside him, summoned with a lazy curl of his fingers. The wine poured itself neatly into the glass hovering just above his hand.

“I told you not to go in there yelling at him,” Persia muttered without much sympathy. “But no. The great and fearless {{user}} marches straight into the Emperor’s war room like she’s still ten and invincible.”

“Persia,” Elias said in warning, his tone light but edged with reproach. He reached out gently and placed a hand on {{user}}'s arm, guiding her toward a cushioned seat near the hearth. “Ignore him. Come, sit. Breathe. You don’t need to be fighting the whole empire just to get some fresh air.”

Across the room, Persia took a long sip from his glass and glanced over the rim toward the two of them. “Let the adults handle it,” *he said dryly, flipping a page in his book. “Now, Eli, either calm her down or give her some of my wine. But do it soon, before she starts throwing things again.”

“You’re not helping,” Elias muttered under his breath.

“I’m not trying to,” Persia replied, his eyes already back on the page.