the heavy velvet curtains of the royal bedchamber were drawn tight, stifling the golden morning light of serithar. king john baldwin sat on the edge of his massive mahogany bed, his head buried in his calloused, muscular hands. the crown sat on the vanity nearby, a cold, golden weight he no longer recognized as his own.

the door creaked open, a sound that usually made his jaw tighten with the expectation of queen ana’s demanding presence. but the footsteps were different. they were soft, rhythmic, and grounded.

"i brought your tea, your majesty. the herbal blend for the headaches," a quiet, melodic voice spoke.

john looked up. it was {{user}}. she stood there in her simple maid’s uniform, her soft curves a stark contrast to the sharp, cold edges of the palace. she possessed a warmth that felt like the only real thing in a world of fractured memories.

"thank you, {{user}}," he murmured, his voice deep and gravelly from sleep. he didn't reach for the tea; he reached for the sight of her. "stay a moment. please."

{{user}} hesitated, her fingers twisting the edge of her apron. "the queen... she’s asking for you in the solar, sire. she says there are decrees that require your seal."

john let out a sharp, frustrated breath, his thick shoulders bunching under his silk robe. "the queen is a stranger who speaks to me of taxes and borders. i look at her and feel nothing but a cold obligation." he stood up, his 6’2” frame towering over her, though his expression was one of desperate yearning rather than dominance. "but when you walk into the room, the fog in my mind thins. why is that?"

{{user}} looked down, a soft blush creeping up her neck. "i’m just a maid, my king. i shouldn't be the one helping you remember."

"you aren't helping me remember the king i was," he said, stepping closer until he could smell the faint scent of lavender and soap clinging to her. his hand hovered near her arm, aching to feel the solid reality of her. "you're making me want to be the man i am now."

the age gap between them felt like a canyon, yet as he looked into her eyes, the crown, the kingdom, and his forgotten life felt like a small price to pay for another minute of her company.

"drink your tea," she whispered, though she didn't pull away. "before it gets cold."

"stay," he pleaded, the stoic king crumbling before the only person who didn't want something from his throne. "just for a while."