Helaena sat quietly by the window, the late afternoon light soft on her pale hands as they moved with delicate precision. Her needle dipped and rose through the fabric, thread glinting like moonlight.

The embroidery was nearly finished Dreamfyre, wings outstretched, stitched in soft blues and silvers. The dragon looked almost alive beneath her fingers, fierce yet gentle, just as she remembered.

She hummed to herself, a tune no one else knew, one she claimed came in dreams.

Outside, the court whispered and schemed. Inside, she stitched scales and silence, weaving peace into the only place it still lived her lap, her hands, her dragon.