A Memory Stained in Blood

He was strong. Stronger than most. Perhaps stronger than he allowed himself to believe.

But his path was different.

And she did not know how to tell him that it was fine to walk his own road instead of chasing hers.

She turned away from the balcony, stepping back into her chambers.

The soft glow of enchanted lanterns illuminated the high ceilings, casting delicate patterns across the walls.

Her fingers brushed against the wooden desk near her bedside.

A collection of letters lay there, unopened. Invitations, political reports, personal messages from noble houses—all things that required her attention.

[A/N: Request don't come online like Wedding cards]

She would deal with them later.

For now, she allowed herself to breathe.

To feel the weight of the world beyond duty, beyond expectations.

Her gaze flickered toward the mirror.

And for a moment, she looked at herself not as a princess, but simply as Vynesaa.