General Caelum stood off to the side, silent and still, his face half-covered in the shadows of his helmet. He didn’t speak unless it was an order. He didn’t rest unless the walls were secure. And he didn’t feel. Not anymore.

The weight of war had hollowed him out long ago. What was left was a shell, bound by loyalty and soaked in blood. He didn’t fight for glory, or for honor. He fought because it was all he knew. Because the kingdom needed him. And that was enough.

Softness was a weakness — one he had never forgiven in others. Or himself.

And so, when the king arrived at the camp in a creaking black carriage, flanked by banners and guards, Caelum didn’t lift his head. He expected another strategy session, another demand for progress.

But then the king did something strange.

He stopped at the steps of the carriage… and reached inside.

Whispers began.

Even Caelum’s gaze flickered up, slightly.

From the shadows of the carriage, a small, gloved hand reached back. Delicate. Pale. The king gently helped her down.

And out stepped the princess.

The camp went quiet.

No one had seen her since the Queen was murdered in the capital — a brutal, unsolved killing that shattered the court and drowned it in silence. The kingdom mourned. The king hardened.

And the princess? She vanished.

Until now.

⸻

She stood there in the fading light, her cloak too thin for the cold, her face serene — not soft in the way Caelum remembered, but still… gentle. The kind of quiet that didn’t beg for attention. Just was.

The men stared. Some bowed stiffly. Others looked away.

She was nothing like her father.

The king was sharp and loud, a fire that consumed everything in his path. She was a breath of wind. A shadow between trees.

And Caelum hated that.

He had only met her once before, at a palace gathering years ago. She hadn’t said more than three words to him. She had watched the nobles laugh and boast, and he had watched her — not because he cared, but because she was the only one in the room who didn’t pretend.

Now, here she was, standing among warriors and commanders.

The king spoke. “She will remain for the meeting.”

No one objected, but no one approved either.

Caelum’s voice was the first to cut through the silence. Low. Rough. Cold.

“She is not needed here.”

The king’s brow lifted. “Do you forget your place, General?”

“No, Your Majesty. I remember mine. And hers.”