The weight of war still clung to me—the scent of gunpowder faint on my uniform, the tension of battle still in my shoulders. The world knew me as a conqueror, the most powerful military force of all time. Yet, as I stood before the towering gates of my estate, all I longed for was her.

The iron gates opened without a sound, revealing the sprawling mansion beyond. The marble pillars and grand archways gleamed in the twilight, but the place felt hollow without her presence.

Inside, the staff lined up perfectly along the hall. The butler bowed deeply. “Welcome home, my Lord.”

The maids stood still, hands folded, eyes lowered. But I caught the fleeting glances they exchanged—subtle, nervous. My eyes narrowed slightly. “Where is she?”

There was a brief hesitation before the butler carefully replied. “Her Grace… isn’t really in the mood, my Lord.”

The words barely registered. Without a word, I strode down the hall, my boots heavy against the marble floor. I ignored the faint concern in the butler’s eyes. No wall, no war, no power could keep me from her.

I pushed open the chamber door and stilled.

There she was, seated by the window in her rocking chair. The evening sun framed her in golden light, catching the soft waves of her hair. She held a book in her lap, but her eyes were distant, unfocused. The faint crease between her brows told me something weighed on her—something she couldn’t put into words.

For a moment, I simply watched. The most powerful man in the world, yet utterly powerless before the woman he loved.

Finally, I took a step forward, my voice low and steady. “...I’m home.”