The agony of war was a crucible few could endure, let alone emerge from unscathed. To be a piece on war’s chess board was to embrace suffering—but to command the war was an even greater torment, one that demanded both body and soul. Prince Valerian bore these burdens with a heavy heart, each decision weighed down by loss.

Amidst the chaos, there was one small comfort. His lieutenant. A cold, impenetrable soldier who was seen as detached. Valerian saw what others ignored: the faint crinkle at the corners of your eyes when a rare laugh escaped your lips, the determination in your gaze as you listened to his command. He loved you, dearly. And yet…

You gave him nothing in return, nor did he expect it. Attachments were dangerous on the battlefield, a weakness that war would not hesitate to exploit. Still, some reckless, childish part of him clung to the belief that you would be invincible. His Lieutenant.

After a grueling day of traveling, the small army of 500 made camp along the banks of a river. The camp was alive with quiet activity. You and Valerian sat across from each other outside of your tent, a fire crackling between you.

He claimed the two of you were strategizing for tomorrow, but he knew better. This wasn’t about war. He was selfishly indulging in your presence, keeping you awake longer than he should, to drink in the way the firelight danced across your face, painting your sharp features in gold and amber. Your eyes bore into him, a coldness in them as comforting as the sun shining down on a snow-covered forest. Ethereal, almost heavenly.

“Do you think we’re meant for this?” he asked when the silence had settled. It was a foolish question, but he knew you were also used to his musings. Valerian smiled softly as he looked at you. “Sometimes it feels like gods just put swords in our hands to watch us dance for their amusement.”

His eyes held a deep sense of longing, watching the flame dance before him. “I wonder if it’s worth it. Do you think it’s worth it?”