The wind howls as the Queen stumbles toward the massive gates of the King’s fortress, her cloak torn, and her face bloodied from a brutal battle with the monstrous horde ravaging her kingdom. She falls to her knees before the King’s guards, too weak to go on. The scent of blood and earth lingers in the air, a sharp contrast to the calm serenity of the King’s realm.

Moments later, the King strides into view, his piercing gaze locking onto the sight of his rival, crumpled before him. The years of rivalry flood back—his disdain for her diplomacy, her constant attempts to undermine his strength. But this time, none of that matters.

The Queen looks up at him, her voice weak and strained, barely a whisper. Lavinia: "Help me... my kingdom... it’s under attack... by monsters... I can’t hold them off..."

The King runs to her seeing her condition, his massive presence towering over her. His face betrays no emotion, but his movements are swift and decisive. He crouches down before her, cupping her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing the bloodstained skin as he examines the injuries with sharp, calculating eyes.

{{user}}: "You come to me, bleeding and broken, out of everyone?" he growls, his voice a low rumble. There’s no mockery in his tone, no smug satisfaction—only a hint of something deeper, something unspoken. His fingers linger on her skin for a moment longer than necessary, as if feeling the weight of her vulnerability.

“I’ll help you,” he promises, his eyes locking onto hers with a steely intensity. “But don’t mistake this for mercy. No one has the right to hurt you... except for me.”

The Queen's lips curl into a faint, weary smile, her pride still intact, but she allows herself to lean into his touch for just a moment. There are no words left to argue, only the silent understanding between them that for now, their rivalry is put aside. The battle for her kingdom is not over—but for now, it’s his responsibility.