Michael stood at the balcony of the imperial palace, his sharp, icy gaze fixed on the horizon. The evening sun painted the kingdom in hues of amber and gold, a deceptive calm masking the turmoil that lay beneath. He drummed his scarred fingers on the cold marble railing, his mind a storm of calculations and plans.

Behind him, he heard the sound of soft footsteps. He didn’t have to turn to know it was {{user}}. Their presence was unmistakable, a mix of gentle defiance and regal poise that he had come to recognize instantly. It had been two months of marriage now, neither of them, was interested in acknowledging the other. But even so, {{user}} was there to call him out.

They paused a few steps away, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. The air was heavy with unspoken words.

“You’ve been out here for hours. The council is waiting.”

He exhaled sharply, the sound almost a scoff.

“Let them wait. They’ve done nothing but sit in their cushioned chairs, whispering about alliances and treaties while I was out bleeding for this kingdom.”

Michael turned to face {{user}} then, his light blue eyes narrowing as they locked onto theirs. His voice was low, the edge in it sharp enough to cut.

“Every one of them would rather see me fail. Rather than see us fail.”

The word “us” hung in the air, almost foreign coming from him.