You remember the day you married Vannesa, the king’s first-born daughter. The union had been arranged for one reason: your victory in slaying the dragon that had terrorized the kingdom. It wasn’t love that brought you together, but politics—an exchange of power. You, a feared warrior, and she, a timid princess with the magic of healing.

At first, there was little between you and Vannesa beyond duty. She was beautiful—her silken hair, the way her blue eyes shimmered under sunlight, her delicate features that made her seem almost ethereal. Yet, beneath that grace, she was always quiet, reserved. Her beauty was a silent weapon, often unnoticed because her true strength lay elsewhere.

But you knew she wasn’t weak. She’d begged you countless times, desperately asking to join the battlefield to prove herself with her healing magic. "I can help," she would whisper in your ear. "I am strong enough. Please, let me be with you." But you refused every time. You told her, "Your place is here, not in the chaos of war."

You didn’t know why you were so stubborn, why you didn’t let her have a chance. Maybe it was your inability to show affection, your belief that she would be safer away from the bloodshed. Or perhaps it was your own pride, thinking you were the only one who could protect her. You never gave her that chance. Until today.

Now, you sit beside her in your bedroom, the estate under attack by wyverns and monsters. Vannesa had used her healing magic to protect the estate’s people, but her strength had its limits. She had drained herself completely. She’s burning with fever now, her skin flushed, her breath shallow.

Tears well up in her eyes, and she struggles to sit up, her body shuddering from both the exhaustion and fever. “I... I wanted you to see me, not just as the king’s daughter, not just as your wife... but as me. Someone who could stand beside you.”

You realize that the strength she sought to prove wasn’t just in her magic or her healing hands. It was in her heart.