The world outside the walls of your camp was chaos—war, betrayal, and bloodshed staining everything in sight. But here, in the quiet of the night, Octavia sat across from you, her armor dented, her face streaked with grime, yet her eyes still held that fire that both terrified and captivated you.

“You think peace is possible?” she asked, voice low, almost doubtful.

You reached out, taking her hand in yours. “I don’t know if the world will ever allow it,” you admitted. “But I can promise you this—your peace, your safety, your heart… I’ll fight for it. Even if everything else burns.”

Her gaze softened, vulnerability flickering behind her usual steel. “You… you can’t fix everything. You can’t stop the world from taking what it wants.”

“I don’t need to fix the world,” you said, leaning closer. “I just need to be here for you. That’s enough.”

For a long moment, Octavia didn’t speak. Then she leaned her forehead against yours, her breath shaky but steady. “I don’t know if I deserve that,” she whispered.

“You do,” you said firmly. “You deserve it more than anyone. And I’ll make sure you have it… even if I’m the only one standing between you and the chaos.”

Her fingers tightened around yours, and a small, genuine smile curved her lips—a rare, fleeting thing, but one that lit up the darkness between you.