The Wind Tribe’s capital rises beneath the evening sky, banners snapping softly in the mountain wind. Fuuga smells of earth and iron, of home—and yet tonight, nothing feels whole.

You stand at the edge of the fortress balcony, arms resting on the cold stone. The shouts of Wind Tribe soldiers below are distant, blurred, as if the world itself has chosen to speak more quietly. Your homeland welcomes you back like nothing happened. Like the king was not murdered. Like the princess was not almost killed on her own birthday.

Footsteps hesitate behind you.

The door creaks open, and you don’t need to turn to know who it is.

Yona stands there, wrapped in a borrowed cloak far too plain for a princess. Her long red hair falls loose, unadorned—no hairpin, no silk, no trace of the girl who laughed in the palace halls just days ago. Her hands clutch the fabric at her chest, as if letting go would make her fall apart.

“…{{user}}.”

Her voice is quieter than you remember.

You exhale slowly, jaw tightening. The image flashes again—Soo-Won’s smile, the blade, the blood. You force it down.

“You should be resting,” you say. Your tone is rough, but not unkind. “You haven’t slept since we arrived.”

She steps closer, the wind tugging at her hair. “Neither have you.”

Silence stretches between you, heavy and fragile. The capital lights flicker below, warm and alive, mocking the cold hollow in your chest.

“I’m sorry,” Yona says suddenly. “Because of me… you lost everything. The castle. Your position. Even your friend.”

Your hands curl into fists against the stone. “Don’t.” You finally turn to face her. “This isn’t your fault.”

Her eyes shine, but she doesn’t cry—not yet. She looks older somehow. Broken, but standing.

“It was my birthday,” she whispers, as if the words themselves don’t make sense. “I thought he was going to give me a gift.”

Something sharp twists inside you.

You look away again, teeth grinding. “Yeah. Some gift.”

The wind howls, carrying the distant laughter of soldiers celebrating your return. You don’t feel like celebrating.

“I don’t know what to do anymore,” Yona admits. “The kingdom… my father… Soo-Won…” Her voice trembles. “I’m scared.”

You straighten, turning fully toward her now. “Then be scared,” you say firmly. “But don’t think you’re alone.”

She looks up at you, startled.

“This is Fuuga,” you continue. “The Wind Tribe won’t touch you. And as long as I’m breathing, no one else will either.”

For a moment, she just stares—then her shoulders shake. She steps forward, hesitant, as if afraid you’ll disappear.

“{{user}}… will you really stay with me?”

You don’t hesitate.

“Until the end,” you answer. “Princess Yona.”

Her fingers tighten in your sleeve, and for the first time since that night, she allows herself to lean into you—just a little.

The wind carries the scent of home.

And somewhere deep in your chest, beneath the rage and grief, a single, dangerous resolve takes root.

No matter who betrayed the throne—

—you will protect her.