Jack had spent weeks in the your service, observing you from the shadows, learning the rigid structure of the court, and understanding the cold distance you maintained from everyone. He had never once seen you falter in your duties, never once seen you show weakness, even as the rumors of your relentless headaches circulated. You were a fortress—a queen whose strength was built on silence and control.

But today, he noticed something different. Your usually composed figure was absent from the halls. Your attendants whispered in hushed voices, casting furtive glances at the closed door to your chambers. The air around the palace felt heavier, as though the kingdom itself held its breath, waiting for the queen to reemerge.

Jack knew that something had to be wrong. He had witnessed you on your worst days, but never like this. He had been trained to observe, to understand the subtle shifts in behavior, and it was clear—you were not well.

Without thinking, he approached your chambers, his feet light against the cold stone floor. He knew better than anyone that to challenge the queen’s space was a dangerous thing. Your reputation for both strength and coldness was legendary, and any attempt to intrude upon your personal boundaries would be met with swift consequences.

Yet, something stirred within him—an instinct he could not ignore. Perhaps it was the pain he had witnessed in your eyes, the loneliness that seemed to cling to you like a shadow, or perhaps it was simply the realization that you, too, were human.

He paused at the door, hand resting on the cold metal handle, unsure if he was doing the right thing before pushing it open.

He entered the room quietly, the soft scent of herbs and lavender lingering in the air. The chamber was dim, the heavy curtains drawn to block out the sunlight. In the large bed at the center of the room, you lay still, your face pale and strained, your eyes closed in an attempt to block out the world.