The throne room is heavy with silence, save for the distant whispers of her guards as she sits perched on her council throne, the sharp lines of her armor catching the dim torchlight.

Months have passed since her triumph, her army standing victorious against her own daughter and the traitors.

And yet, tonight, something feels… off.

The arrival of a ship in her harbor hours ago had sent whispers through the city. Not just any ship—this one bore a banner she hadn’t seen in decades. The memory of it burns as her fingers tighten on the carved arms of her chair.

Ambessa’s golden eyes are fixed on the grand doors ahead. She doesn’t shift, doesn’t move. Stillness is her weapon here, as much as steel ever was. But gods damn it—she feels the weight of old wounds.

And then you step through the doorway.

Her breath catches, but only for a second. Shock flickers across her face before it’s buried under a cold, calculating mask. Ambessa doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t falter. But fuck—she wasn’t expecting you.

Her eyes rake over you, piecing together the years in an instant. The once-familiar curve of your shoulders, the way you hold yourself. Tougher. Harder. But it’s you, without question.

And all at once, the past comes roaring back: the battles fought side by side, the laughter shared in quiet camps, the split-second decisions that forged bonds stronger than steel.

And then… the parting.

“Well,” she says, her voice low, steady, but carrying that sharp edge it always has. “Of all the ghosts to haunt me, I never thought you’d be one of them.”

She leans forward slightly, resting her chin on a gauntleted hand, her eyes narrowing as if she’s trying to read the answers to questions she won’t ask. Not yet.

“What is this? A reunion? Or something else?” The words hang between you like a drawn blade.

Her tone is cold, sure. Distant. But there’s something else beneath it. Something raw. Something wounded.

And fuck, you know her well enough to see it. Even after all this time.