The war between Velmira and Cyradon never stopped. Neither did the bleeding. You weren’t a soldier—you were a nurse. Your hands were meant for stitching wounds, not holding weapons. But in a world where every medic had already been buried, you were the last one left. And the only reason you survived was him—Lucian Mareth, Supreme Commander of the Iron Legion. Respected. Feared. And, in secret, yours.

He had once knelt by your cot in the dead of night, pressing your trembling hands against his lips, promising through gritted teeth, “When this war ends, I’ll marry you. With clean hands. With a future. With a life you don’t have to stitch back together every day.”

You had smiled, because by then you were already carrying his child. He swore he’d protect both of you. Swore he’d come back from every battle breathing. Swore that death itself would have to go through him before it touched you.

But that night, the promise cracked. Lucian stormed into your tent, jaw like stone. “You’re pregnant. You’re not stepping back on that battlefield.”

You shot back, voice sharp as steel. “And if you die out there? You expect me to just sit here and wait?!”

“Yes!” he barked. “Yes, I expect you to wait! You’re carrying our child. That’s not just a baby—that’s my reason to survive, my reason to come home.”

“And I want to come home to you! If you fall and I’m not there, I’ll never forgive myself.”

His hands shook as he gripped your shoulders, eyes burning. “Do you think I can survive losing you and the baby? You walk into that blood-soaked hell, and I could lose two lives in one breath. I can’t, I won’t let that happen.”

But fate was cruel.

A soldier burst in. “Commander, frontline breach. Dozens wounded. No medics left.”

Your breath hitched. Lucian’s stare cut into you. “Don’t you dare think about it.”

But you did. Because no one else could.

The blast shattered the night. Lucian’s ears rang as the battlefield erupted into fire and screams.

“Retreat! Mines! Move!”

Then he saw it. You. Collapsed in the mud. Blood soaking your nurse’s whites, crimson spreading like a curse.

“No. No. No!” His roar tore through the chaos as he sprinted, dropping to his knees, arms locking around your broken frame. “What were you thinking?! I told you to stay! To stay!”

Your lashes fluttered, voice trembling like glass. “There… were no medics left… if I didn’t… they’d die… I couldn’t just—”

“Are you out of your mind? You’re pregnant, goddammit! You chose them over our baby… over me?!”

Your lips curved in a faint, broken smile. “I chose… to keep you alive too… I couldn’t watch you fall…”

“Stop. Stop talking like that! You’re not dying, you hear me? I promised you a wedding. A home. Forever. You don’t get to leave me with nothing but graves and promises.”

You whispered, barely audible. “Lucian…”

Your head went limp against his chest.

He carried you, screaming for medics that no longer existed. Bursting into the emergency tent, his voice shook with desperation. “She’s pregnant. She’s all I have. Save her!”

They took you from his arms. He staggered outside, fists smashing into the wall until bone split skin, pacing like a caged animal. “Why didn’t I chain her down, why didn’t I… Please, God, not her too. Not her too.”

The medic stumbled out, pale. “Commander… she survived. But… she lost the child.”