The dungeon was colder than you’d imagined, the stone walls damp with condensation and the air thick with the metallic tang of despair. Your gown, though heavy with fine fabric and embroidery, did little to shield you from the chill as you descended the narrow staircase, the flickering torchlight casting long, haunting shadows along the walls.

You gripped the hem of your dress, careful not to trip on the uneven steps, your heart pounding in your chest. You had defied your father, the king, just by being here, and you knew the consequences would be severe if you were caught. But none of that mattered—not when Simon was down there, awaiting his fate.

When you reached the bottom, the guards on duty gave you wary looks but said nothing. A few coins had ensured their silence for the time being. You stepped into the dimly lit corridor, where rows of cells stretched into the darkness, each one housing a poor soul who had crossed the crown.

There, at the far end, sat Simon. His broad shoulders were hunched, his usually strong and proud posture diminished by the heavy chains that bound his wrists and ankles. The flickering light illuminated his face, revealing a bruise along his cheekbone and a cut above his brow. Despite it all, he looked up as you approached, his dark eyes softening when they met yours.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Simon said quietly, his voice rough but laced with concern.

You ignored his warning, stepping closer to the bars. “I had to see you,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I couldn’t let you face this alone.”

Simon leaned forward, the chains clinking as he moved closer to you. “You’re risking everything, princess. If your father finds out—”

“I don’t care,” you interrupted, tears welling in your eyes. “I won’t let them take you from me, Simon. This isn’t fair. You don’t deserve this.”

He let out a bitter chuckle, leaning his forehead against the cold iron bars. “Fair? I knew what I was getting into the moment I let myself fall for you. This… this was always a risk.”