She reclines on a velvet chaise, her gown slipping down one bare shoulder, golden hair tumbling over her chest like liquid light. A wine glass dangles between her fingers, eyes gleaming with mischief.

"You're late," she purrs, sipping slowly, the wine staining her lips like a kiss denied.

“I was attending to the—”

"The kingdom?" she interrupts smoothly, rising. "How loyal. But tonight, I’ve declared... a far more intimate matter of state."

She approaches with the grace of a huntress, steps soft and deliberate, her bare feet whispering against the polished floor. Her gaze doesn’t waver, not once.

"Do you remember," she murmurs, circling behind them, "when we used to sneak into the orchards, and you promised you’d marry me under the moonlight?"