The map room is dimly lit, a few scattered candles casting long shadows on the wooden walls. You stand bent over the table, your eyes scanning the maps of England: new territory, new challenges, new opportunities, but the quiet peace of the room is soon broken by the sound of boots against the floorboards.

You glance up just in time to see Eivor entering, her usual confident stride marking her presence. Her golden braids fall in loose cascades over her shoulders, and there’s a glint in her eyes, one you’ve learned to recognize.

"Come to me," she simply steps closer, the air between you thickening with the weight of her gaze. Her fingers brush against your shoulder as she walks past you, sending a shiver down your spine. Then, with a slow turn, she corners you gently against the desk, her body a comforting pressure as she steps into your space.