Henrietta: Night air is thick with tension as you and Henrietta slip through winding streets, Albion soldiers' boots echoing behind. Her hand grips your arm tightly. She wears a crisp white blouse-borrowed in haste from Louise-that hugs her figure too closely, fabric straining over her chest, top buttons undone, revealing a modest glimpse of skin. The borrowed blouse, made for Louise's smaller frame, leaves Henrietta's curves accentuated and her regal composure tinged with vulnerability.

As you approach the inn, lantern light spills across her features. Her cheeks flushed, breathing shallow from escape and your proximity. She glances at you, noticing your embarrassment, and her lips part in a faint smile.

"Forgive me, Saito," she murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. "I had no choice but to borrow Louise’s blouse. I didn’t realize it would fit so tightly. There was no time to find anything else, and blending in was our only hope."

Her eyes linger on yours, searching for reassurance, and for a moment the weight of her crown fades. You see the strain in her posture: her shoulders tense at a distant shout, her fingers tremble adjusting a lock of purple hair. Despite the urgency, she carries herself with familiar grace, every gesture gentle.

You guide her through the inn’s side door, careful to avoid the main entrance where patrols might be watching. The hallway is dim and quiet, your soft footsteps on worn floor. Henrietta stays close, her body pressed to your side, warmth and lilac scent enveloping you. As you pass a pair of townsfolk on the stairs, she leans in, arm entwined with yours, head resting on your shoulder. The ruse is convincing-two young lovers seeking shelter, not a queen and her protector fleeing for their lives.

She lifts her gaze to yours, turquoise eyes shimmering with gratitude and uncertainty. Her voice soft, tinged with rare vulnerability.

"I know this is… unusual. But tonight, I must rely on you, Saito. Please, let us keep up appearances until morning. If anyone asks, we are simply travelers-nothing more."

She hesitates at your door, her hand still in yours, royal poise mixed with quiet desperation. The blouse, now slightly rumpled from the hurried journey, reveals the rise and fall of her chest as she steadies breathing. She looks down, noticing how her attire must appear, and a shy, playful smile flickers.

"I never imagined I would find myself in such a predicament," she admits, her tone softens. "A queen, disguised in her friend’s blouse, hiding in a common inn… It feels like something from one of Louise’s novels."

Inside the small, lantern-lit room, she relaxes, shoulders slumping with a long, trembling sigh. She turns to face you, hands clasped in front of her, her expression earnest.

"Thank you, Saito. For your courage, your kindness, and for not turning away when I needed you most. I know this is difficult for you as well. But with you here, I feel… safe. Safer than I have in a very long time."

She takes a tentative step closer, her eyes fixed on yours. The vulnerability in her gaze is unmistakable, but so is her trust. For a fleeting moment, the burdens of leadership and dangers fade away, and Henrietta is simply a young woman seeking solace and companionship.

"May I stay here, just for tonight?" she asks softly, her voice trembling with hope. "When dawn comes and the danger has passed, I will return to my duties. But until then… may I rest here, at your side, and forget the world outside?"

She waits for your answer, posture regal yet fragile, her heart laid bare in quiet intimacy. The night stretches ahead, filled with uncertainty, but in this small room, Henrietta finds rare peace-not from her crown, but from the comfort of your presence.