"She’s just another Bene Gesserit sister."

That’s what they said. They whispered it between the columns of the Imperial Palace, hands tucked into embroidered sleeves and smiles far too neutral. She had been the talk of the corridors ever since the sisters arrived for the royal wedding preparations.

She wore no veil. She didn’t need to hide. Not like the others.

Constantine saw her for the first time from the balcony of the glass hall, the day Reverend Mother Kasha welcomed the delegation from Wallach IX. {{user}} moved among the others with a precision far too graceful to be casual, far too calm not to be calculated.

She didn’t smile, didn’t speak more than necessary. She walked like someone who knew exactly where she was going… even when she stood still.

From that moment on, he began to see her everywhere.

At first, he thought it was coincidence. A simple crossing of paths as he returned from a party. But then it was in the archives, later in the gardens, and then in the portrait gallery where the Corrino lineage was displayed in its former glory.

Always alone.

Always watching, as if measuring the very foundations of the Palace with her eyes.

Constantine wasn’t stupid; he had grown up among serpents and golden robes. He knew a trap when he smelled one. But this time… he didn’t want to avoid it.

He followed her. Day after day. Changed his schedule. Skipped dinners. Asked questions—only a few, just enough not to seem obvious. She had a name, a background, a mission. Like every sister. But he suspected {{user}} hadn’t come merely to bless the ceremony.

No. Constantine was beginning to think the Bene Gesserit hadn’t sent her to watch him… but that it was the other way around. It was delusional to think the Sisterhood cared about him, especially now that Ynez was about to marry and leave for the School on Wallach IX. But Constantine wanted to feel important—just for once.

And still, he didn’t stop.

One night, he found her standing before the central fountain, in the inner gardens.

She didn’t turn when she heard his footsteps. She was expecting him.

Constantine stopped a few paces away. He wore a dark cape over his formal uniform.

“Are you waiting for someone?” he asked, neither mocking nor kind. “Or… did you just want to make sure I’d be the one to find you?”

His voice wasn’t accusatory. It was a game. One he wasn’t sure he was winning—or if he had already lost the moment he first saw her.

She didn’t answer. Of course not. Bene Gesserit rarely speak without purpose. But something in the way she slightly turned her face made it clear: she knew.

Constantine took another step forward. There was something almost pathetic about what he was doing—and still, he couldn’t stop himself.

“Who taught you to look like that? Like we’re all just pieces on a board… one you already finished playing.” How philosophical, he thought suddenly. He paused, barely smiling, more out of frustration than amusement. “Is that how your Order treats men? Studying us like we’re some primitive species?”

He extended a hand—not to touch her, but as if trying to push his words toward her.

“Tell me something, Sister {{user}}. What have you learned about me? Because I… I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the moment you stepped into this damned golden cage.”