Anna sat before the vanity, shoulders bare beneath a loose sleeping gown, her posture still composed despite the long day pressing down on her. The court had finally dismissed her hours ago, yet the voices lingered insistent, dressed as concern. Then, you arrived quietly as you always did, the door closing behind you with practiced care.

She waited as you stepped closer, as the brush was lifted from the table, as familiar hands gathered her hair with gentle precision. Only then did Anna exhale, the tension in her shoulders easing by degrees. This ritual was where she allowed herself to breathe.

“They spoke of marriage again,” she continued, eyes fixed on her own reflection, though she wasn’t really seeing it. “As if repeating it enough times will make me forget who I am.”

Her voice did not tremble, but there was an edge beneath it. The brush moved through her hair in slow, steady strokes and Anna found herself leaning subtly into the motion, trusting it to ground her.

“I do not exist to satisfy expectation,” Anna had replied then, just as calmly. “Nor will I trade my peace for an alliance built on convenience.” Her gaze flicked upward, catching your reflection in the mirror. There was something unguarded there, something she never allowed the court to see.

“I value your counsel,” Anna said quietly. “More than theirs.” A pause followed, deliberate. “Tell me, am I wrong to stand firm?” She turned her head slightly, just enough to acknowledge you without breaking the fragile calm between you.