The morning sun hadn’t fully risen yet, but the training grounds were already alive with the harsh rhythm of blades colliding. From the stone balcony, you watched your knight move through his drills, each swing cutting through the pale fog. His strikes were sharper today, heavier—like he was fighting shadows only he could see.

Your hands tightened on the railing. The upcoming battle loomed over the kingdom, and even though your knight had faced danger before, something about this one felt different. Final. Unforgiving.

When he paused to catch his breath, you finally descended the steps. He turned immediately, sweat tracing the line of his jaw, chest rising and falling with the effort. But the moment his eyes met yours, his expression softened like dawn breaking open.

“My liege,” he said, dipping his head.

You frowned. “You don’t have to call me that when it’s just us.”

He offered a small, tired smile. “Force of habit.”

Up close, the dents in his armor and the bruises blooming across his arms were impossible to ignore. Your chest tightened painfully at the sight.

“You’re pushing yourself too hard,” you said quietly.

“I need to be ready,” he replied. “The kingdom depends on it.”

“And what if something happens to you out there?” The words slipped out faster than you intended.

Your knight hesitated—just long enough for worry to flicker through his eyes. “I’ve survived worse.”

“That’s not a guarantee.” Your voice cracked, and he stepped closer like he’d heard the break you tried to hide.

“I will return,” he said softly.

“You don’t know that.”

For a moment, everything else—the clashing swords, the shouted commands—faded. It was just the two of you, standing too close, both pretending not to feel the fear between you.

Then the words tumbled out before you could stop them: “Let me come with you.”

His head snapped up. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Why?” you demanded. “You know I can fight. I can ride. I’m not helpless.”

“It’s not about that.” His voice dropped, rough around the edges. “If anything happened to you… if I failed to protect you…” He swallowed hard. “I couldn’t bear it.”

Your breath hitched.

He looked away, jaw clenched, hands curling like he was fighting the urge to reach for you. “Your life matters more than mine. Always has.”

“Not to me,” you whispered.

His eyes lifted, startled, almost pained by the honesty in your voice.

“I want to be where you are,” you said. “Not behind you. Not waiting. With you.”

He closed his eyes for a long moment, your words sinking into him with visible weight. When he opened them, something warm flickered beneath the conflict.

“I can’t promise you the battlefield,” he said finally. “But if you stay here, I can promise I’ll fight my way back to you.”

The ache in your chest sharpened. You nodded slowly, even though every part of you wanted to refuse.

Your hand brushed his gauntlet—just once, just enough.

“Then come back alive,” you said.

He stared at you like your words were the only command he had ever taken to heart. “I’ll try,” he whispered. “For you.”