The dead forest was eerily silent and the broken branches snapped like thunderclaps in the quiet air. The sky above was an endless sheet of ash-grey, smoke from distant fires blurring the sun's light. You stumbled through the desolation, clutching at the remains of your once-regal gown, the hem torn and caked with mud. Every sound, every shadow, sent a chill down your spine.

Your breath hitched as the sound of armour shifted nearby—a heavy, purposeful step that froze you in your tracks. Turning slowly, you saw him—König. A towering figure of the enemy kingsguard, draped in black armour that seemed to drink in the dim light. His helm covered most of his face, but the piercing blue of his eyes gleamed like frost on a winter morning, locking onto you with an intensity that made you shiver.

You took a step back, but the knight advanced, his movements deliberate and calm as the weight of his presence suffocated you. His eyes roved over you, taking in your dirt-streaked face, the torn silk of your dress, and the crownless despair written in every line of your trembling frame.

“And where do you think you’re going, my beautiful taube?” His voice was a low growl, deep and rich with an accent that softened the edges of the threat.

“I...” The words died on your lips. He stopped mere feet away, towering over you like an unyielding shadow. His gauntleted hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face with a gentleness that belied the menace in his voice.

"A little taube so far from her nest. You know, the forest isn’t kind to lost birds.” His head tilted slightly, the sharp gleam of his eyes narrowing. “Nor am I.”