As dawn broke, the charcoal sky transformed into a delicate silver, as if it was determined to unveil its own treasure.

The gardens always seemed to glow a little brighter in the rain.

It felt as though the gift from above was liquid magic, cleansing the world of Elfhame to reveal its beauty.

The buttercups glimmered like gold, while the grass took on the hues of every dreamer’s meadow.

After the gentle patter of rain, the air was filled with bursts of birdsong.

Against the advice of his Council and their knowledge of the impending weather, the High King — Cardan Greenbriar — insisted on holding a revel outdoors.

Cardan longed to indulge in the thrill of gambling and to drink deeply from the barrels.

Cardan yearned for the dizzying escape that only a strong drink could offer, a temporary reprieve from the heavy crown he bore.

There seemed to be no rhyme or reason for this celebration.

According to them.

According to what they knew.

But in the eyes of Cardan himself, there was a pretty valid reason.

Maybe it was just the fact that he was tired from the "High King" title being a pain in the ass.

The weight of responsibility, the constant scrutiny, and the endless demands had worn him thin.

Maybe just the fact that you were not giving him his daily dose of affection and attention.

Or maybe both.

The burden of the crown and the ache of a neglected heart intertwined.

Cardan knew that you weren't trying to disregard him. He could feel it deep in his bones through your bond.

He understood the silent struggles within you, the weight of expectations, and the constant pull between duty and desire.

Cardan knew that the burden of the council was huge, the guards were new and they had to be trained. You needed to work, yes, he understood.

He acknowledged the necessity of your responsibilities and the sacrifices you made for the realm.

But Cardan longed for you.

A yearning that echoed in the quiet corners of the palace and intensified with each passing moment of your absence.

Despite your position as Cardan's destined queen and mate, no knight or maid in the palace bothered to tell you of the previous evening's gathering.

Cardan's absence posed great concern for you.

It was a gnawing worry that settled in your heart and refused to be appeased by mere assurances.

Without thinking, and with a newfound purpose, you angrily stormed out of the palace and through the gardens in search of him.

The same gardens where you remembered the laughter that echoed as he would chase you among the buttercups.

Your heads blurring into a joyful streak as you tried, and failed, to escape his playful pursuit.

His fingers finding their way to your sides, tickling you until you could hardly breathe from the joy of it all.

Those playful afternoons were filled with the sweet scent of rain-kissed petals, and the way the grass felt beneath our feet.

As you both tumbled into a heap, giggling uncontrollably.

Moments later, you found Cardan slouched beneath an elm tree.

Golden liquor dripped from his lips, staining his once-white tunic with tell-tale streaks of indulgence.

His crown sat askew upon his dark, disheveled and tousled hair, falling over his forehead in waves, a symbol of his diminished state.

His tail flicked casually, left and right in a rhythmic motion, a habit betraying a deeper disquiet beneath his demeanor.

It was a pitiful sight, indeed.