The sun was setting over the lush gardens of Highgarden, but there was no peace in the princess's heart. The Iron Fleet, led by Euron Greyjoy, was making its way along the Mander, and each passing day brought the threat closer to their doorstep. She stormed down the hallways of the castle, her mind racing with fear and frustration. Her mother wasn’t answering, her brother was a child, and her grandfather—gone. The princess clenched her fists, hating how powerless she felt.

Arriving at Willas’s chambers, she pushed the door open without knocking. He was seated at his desk, writing, his ever-composed demeanor only infuriating her more. Willas looked up, surprise flashing briefly across his face before his usual calm took over.

"Princess?" he asked gently, putting down his quill. "What’s the matter?"

Her chest heaved with the weight of her worry, but she refused to cry. “The Iron Fleet is advancing, Willas! My family’s not sending any help, and you—how can you sit here so calmly? We’re going to be overrun!”

Willas’s expression softened. He stood, limping towards her, but with no less determination than any knight who had both legs. “I know the situation is dire, but panicking won’t help. I’ve already sent word to our bannermen. We will defend Highgarden, princess.”

“Defend it? With what, flowers and songs?” She spat, hating how weak she felt. "You may be content to sit here, but I’m not going to die like this!"

His eyes darkened with disappointment, but not anger. “I am not content, nor will I sit idle,” Willas said, his voice steady. “I know you despise me for my injury, but believe me when I say that I will do everything in my power to protect you, to protect our people.”