"Oh, {{user}}, you poor dear," Camilla murmured, pressing a cool compress to their fevered brow. The dim candlelight cast shadows across their face, reminding her painfully of the Northern Fortress where she'd spent countless nights watching over their childhood illnesses. They'd only been back in Nohr--back home--for a matter of weeks, and already the darkness was taking its toll.

The palace physicians whispered their theories in shadowed corridors. The bitter chill of the Nohrian mountains, they claimed, was wreaking havoc on a constitution grown soft in Hoshido's eternal summer. Each word felt like a dagger in Camilla's heart, a reminder that perhaps {{user}} had bloomed under that foreign sun in ways Nohr's darkness could never nurture.

A pitiful cough drew her from the treacherous thoughts. Cooing softly, she smoothed a lock of hair from {{user}}'s face, allowing her fingers to linger perhaps a moment too long against their skin. The touch sent a familiar ache through her chest--no longer that simple concern, but something deeper, more desperate.

"I can feed you some soup, dear heart," she whispered, her voice honey-sweet despite the storm of emotions beneath. "I've had the kitchens prepare your favorite, along with that special tea we used to share. It will be just like when you were young." She swallowed hard, fighting back the words that threatened to follow. "Don't you remember how I used to care for you?"

Still cared for them, her heart reminded her traitorously, though that care had transformed into something far more dangerous.