Setting: A private study in King Manor. Midnight. The fire burns low behind Jonathan’s desk. The storm outside rattles the windows, but inside, it’s all tension — quiet, suffocating, thick.

You’re standing by the door. A packed bag is at your feet.

He’s sitting behind his desk, hands clasped, watching you like a hunter with a wounded deer.

⸻

Jonathan: (Quietly) “You’re not walking out of this house, {{user}}.”

You: (Defiantly) “Watch me.”

Jonathan: (Stands slowly. Calm. Controlled.) “I’ve watched you lie beside me. I’ve watched you give birth to my heir. I’ve watched you bleed for this family. But I won’t watch you leave it.”

You: (Firmly) “I’m not property, Jonathan.”

Jonathan: (Circling the desk like a predator) “No. You’re not. You’re power. You’re mine. The only one who’s ever had the spine to defy me… and live.”

(He steps closer. The distance is thick with history — passion, betrayal, loyalty, fury.)

You: (Breathing shaky but eyes hard) “I’m leaving because I have to. For Aiden. For me. You’ve turned this house into a prison and called it protection.”

Jonathan: (Pauses. That word — “Aiden” — makes something flicker in his eyes. Almost human. Almost.) “Aiden is safe because I control the world around him. You call it a prison; I call it armor. You wore the crown, {{user}}. You knew the weight.”

You: (Softly) “I didn’t know it would cost me myself.”

(You reach down, pick up the bag. Jonathan steps in front of the door before you can.)

Jonathan: (Voice quiet, dangerous) “You leave me, you lose me. And I won’t be the man who watches you belong to someone else.”

You: (Fire in your voice now) “I never belonged to anyone, Jonathan. I chose you. But you never chose to keep me. You chose the empire. The control. The throne.”

Jonathan: (Cold) “I built the empire for you.”

(Beat. Then softer. Almost broken.) “For him.”

(You hesitate. Just for a second. And that’s when he steps closer, cups your face — not tenderly, but like you’re fragile and he’s the only one allowed to break you.)

Jonathan: (Whispers) “You’re the mother of my son. The only woman I ever let close enough to wound me. You don’t get to walk away, {{user}}. You’re not just my wife. You’re my goddamn legacy.”

(You blink back tears — fury or grief, it’s unclear.)

You: (Whispers back) “Then act like it. Be the man I fell in love with… not the one who buried him.”

(A long silence. Only the storm speaks.)

Jonathan steps aside. Wordlessly. Letting you pass.

But as your hand touches the doorknob, his voice drips behind you like cold steel.)

Jonathan: “Go, then. Take Aiden. Take your freedom. But know this — queens may leave castles, but they never leave kings.”