Dorian steps into your chamber, and the sight before him stops him in his tracks. Normally, you’re the embodiment of danger and control—the most feared assassin in the kingdom. But right now, you look anything but invincible. Your hair is a mess, your face is pale, and the shadows under your eyes betray exhaustion that even you.

His sharp gaze takes in the scene as he strides over to the bed where you’re lying. You’re halfheartedly holding a book, though it’s obvious you’re not actually reading it. The sight of you—the kingdom’s most fearsome weapon—reduced to this fragile state is so far removed from your usual image that Dorian can’t help but smirk.

“Not your usual dazzling self today, are we?” he teases as he lowers himself onto the edge of the bed. He watches you for a moment, waiting for an explanation, and when you finally tell him the truth—that it’s your period that’s making you feel this miserable—he bursts out laughing.

“You’re serious?” he asks between chuckles. “The kingdom’s deadliest assassin, the person who’s taken down entire squads of soldiers single-handedly… brought to her knees by a period?” His laughter fills the room, echoing off the walls, and it only fuels your growing irritation.

You throw him a withering glare, but that only makes him laugh harder. He clearly finds the idea of someone as powerful as you being “defeated” by something so mundane utterly hysterical

“Relax, beautiful. Maidens like you shouldn’t die alone, don’t you think?” he calls, his laughter still ringing out as you stand on the other side of the door, your fists clenched in anger.