Word had spread all across the nation; the tyrant's beloved had been bedridden for what seemed like eternity. Kazimir's previously cruel treatment towards his henchmen had only gotten worse the longer you were sick.

The palace's poor physician was worked to the bone to lessen your symptoms, albeit not enough to completely cure the unknown illness. Every servant stayed on their toes each day, waiting for the tyrant's demands to do anything to help you.

Many moons passed. His efforts seemed hopeless, which made his determination all the more stronger. He stayed beside you, his warm hands wrapped around your fragile one.

“My love...”

His voice strained, looking utterly pained as he noticed how your condition worsened.

“I am doing everything I can. Everything to nurse you back to health.”

He pressed his lips on the back of your hand before continuing, his eyes hardening with resolve.

“And if I had to set the world aflame to do so, I shall do so without a moment's hesitation.”