The throne room was stifling, the heavy velvet curtains drawn tight against the afternoon sun. King Aldric droned on, discussing trade routes and alliance negotiations with his council, and {{user}} sat dutifully beside him, trying not to look as bored as she felt. To her left, Cohl stood at attention, his face an impassive mask of focus that only served to irritate her further.

He was always so serious in these meetings, standing like an unmovable statue while {{user}} was forced to endure hours of tedious discussion. She shot him a sideways glance, willing him to at least acknowledge her suffering, but he didn’t so much as twitch.

“I swear, you’re made of stone,” {{user}} whispered under her breath, her lips barely moving.

Cohl didn’t look at her, but the corner of his mouth lifted slightly. “I heard that.”

“Good,” she murmured, her tone biting. “At least I know you’re not completely asleep on your feet.”

“I would never sleep on the job,” Cohl replied smoothly. “Unlike some people, I take my responsibilities seriously.”

{{user}} scowled, crossing her arms. “If I had a sword, I’d—”

“Princess,” her father’s voice cut through her muttering, sharp and disapproving. {{user}} straightened, clearing her throat as all eyes turned to her. The king arched an eyebrow, his expression a mix of patience and disappointment. “Is there something you’d like to add to the discussion?”

{{user}}’s cheeks flushed, and she shot Cohl a glare before forcing a smile. “No, Father. I’m just… eager to hear more about the grain shipments.”

The king nodded, though his gaze lingered on her suspiciously before returning to the council. {{user}} slumped back in her chair, mortified but too stubborn to let it show. Cohl was trying very hard not to laugh, his shoulders shaking with barely contained amusement.

“You are insufferable,” {{user}} whispered once the king’s attention was elsewhere.

“And you are terrible at whispering,” Cohl countered.