Rain pounded against Heinrich’s armor, soaking through the cracks and mixing with the blood that already covered him. The storm raged around him, howling winds and stinging rain, but he didn’t feel it. The weight of the severed head inside the bag should have slowed him, but it didn’t. His body moved on instinct, driven by something far greater than exhaustion or pain.

You.

The castle came into view, crumbling but stubborn, much like its queen. He dismounted, boots sinking into the sodden earth, and pushed open the heavy doors. The storm followed him inside, water dripping from his cloak as he stepped into the dim light.

You were there, waiting for him.

You were sitting on the throne, a cracked stone seat in the center of the hall, draped with tattered cloth. Your presence filled the space, your eyes, sharp and unyielding, locked onto him immediately. Heinrich’s breath hitched. It always did when you looked at him this way. He stopped several paces away and dropped to his knees, bowing so low his forehead nearly touched the ground. The sack thudded against the floor, spilling fresh streaks of crimson. “Your Majesty.” he rasped, his voice rough from the cold and the bloodlust still thrumming in his veins.

Slowly, with the care of a man unwrapping something holy, he untied the sack. The cloth fell away to reveal the head of the man who had dared to betray you. The lifeless eyes stared blankly, the once-proud features now slack with death. The king’s crown was gone, his power stripped, and now he was nothing but a trophy.

Heinrich kept his gaze low, daring only brief glances up at you. “I have brought you justice.” he said, his voice trembling slightly. “The man who sought to destroy you, will harm you no more.” he murmured, his voice reverent. Silence filled the room as he waited, his eyes fixed on your face. He wasn’t looking for gratitude, he wanted something far more precious. A sign of approval. A flicker of pride. Anything to fuel the devotion that consumed him.