"I... am here..." Elaine replied hesitantly, voice softer than its usual forged steel rasp, staying rooted firm in the chair like ancient oak weathering a gale, her broad frame unyielding despite the flicker of raw hurt flashing quick in those eyes.

"For me?" I asked sharp and probing, good eye narrowing sceptical through the persistent healing haze, searching her face minutely for the lie.

The polished political mask she’d worn ironclad since our wedding vows bound us in golden chains neither craved nor chose.

"Yes," she said simple and stark, holding my gaze steady unbreaking, no evasion or artifice now, just raw, stripped honesty that unnerved me deeper than her cruellest barbs ever had, peeling back layers I wasn’t ready to face.

"You don’t have to," I pressed blunt and weary, turning my face fully to the carved bedpost now—a snarling griffin frozen mid-roar in rich mahogany grain—to hide the stinging bloom behind my ribs, deeper and fiercer than any arena bruise.

"Why?

"I know you hate me too much... maybe you would kill if you got the chance. Save your pity for someone who still craves it, who hasn’t tasted your thorns."

"I..." she started, words faltering rough and tangled as she rubbed the back of her neck awkward, warrior hands rough and scarred against her pale skin, knuckles flexing white.

"Elaine, I want some rest."

"Kill you? Alexander, if that’s what you believe after all this time—gods, I’ve failed you worse than I thought."

"I’m your nominal wife until the divorce papers ink," I cut in firm despite the exhaustion tugging my eyelids heavy as molten lead, voice gaining a thin thread of steel forged from too many slights.

"Yes... I know that."

"No need for this theatre, this act. Save the appearances for court, where scheming nobles whisper poison and applaud your every stride. I’m not fooled by sudden softness."

"I’m not doing this for appearances," she insisted quiet but fierce, leaning closer still, her scent enveloping me full like a reluctant, warming embrace, which made me lower my head slightly.

"Then, what do you need from me? Why are you doing this?"

"I just... wanted to help you. To sit vigil here, watch your chest rise steady, make sure the fever doesn’t claim you like it stole a few commoners last spring—burning them up from inside."

"I am not a commoner."

"I know, but you are a human. Is that so wrong? So impossible?"

"Human? You still think of me as a human?"

"i..."

"You don’t have to," I repeated stubborn as stone, curling my fingers deep into the cool silk sheets, petite hands lost swallowed in the fabric’s luxurious folds, nails biting crescents into my palms to ground the rising tide of old, festering wounds threatening to spill.

"Why? I should be able to," she argued back, frustration edging her tone now like whetstone grinding slow on a blade’s edge, broad shoulders tensing rigid under her half-plate armour, the sturdy chair creaking faint protest under her warrior’s weight.

"You are making me cofused."

"As your Alpha by blood and bond, and your husband by wretched duty. Gods, even just as the crown’s own shield against shadows. Let me do this—one thing right in all the wreckage I’ve wrought."

"It’s not about ability," I challenged raw and trembling, voice quivering as fresh waves of humiliations surged unbidden.

Her cold, mechanical rut pinning my tiny frame to sweat-damp sheets, sneers dismissing my dreams for omega rights as mere ’whims of a soft-hearted fool.’

"But—"

"I know you just hate me down to the bone. Look at it plain and true, Elaine—why bother helping someone you see only as a vessel for birthing heirs? A pretty, gilded cage to house your legacy, paraded at banquets and bedded for alphas?"

"I don’t..." she protested weak and fractured, eyes dropping guilty heavy to her clasped hands, thumbs rubbing endless circles over scarred knuckles as if she could polish away the dried blood of a thousand regrets.

"Don’t lie."

"I never saw you that way—not truly, not in my soul. Or... hells take it, maybe I did for too long, and that’s the knife I deserve twisted slow back into my own gut."

"Please—find someone else to show kindness to," I pleaded soft and breaking, turning away again sharp, chest aching deeper than the arena’s cruellest blows, silver hair fanning wild and tangled across the pillow like spilled moonlight on storm-tossed waves.

"I can’t, Your Highness. Alexander, I can’t..."

"Anyone but the idiot omega you despise with every breath. Courtiers fawn at your boots. Soldiers salute your blade. Spread your sudden mercy there—let it bloom where it’s wanted."

"I know how kind you are..." she confessed hollow and hushed, voice breaking clean on the admission like brittle ice cracking under boot, blonde head bowing slight as her tight braid slipped forward to curtain her face.

"Kind? Aren’t I an idiot?"

"I know how much of an utter idiot I am. Mocking your fire for rights every chance I got. Forcing you into shadows when you burned bright as any star. Gods, Alexander, I’ve been blind as a cave bat, stumbling over treasures I spat on."

"You’re not an idiot," I murmured automatic and soft, glancing back surprised through the throbbing haze, good eye catching the dangerous shimmer of unshed tears glistening in hers. "I am the idiot."

For the first time, I’d ever seen true vulnerability crack her impenetrable warrior shell, raw as fresh wounds.

"No, I am—blind, cruel, worthless," she pushed on stubborn, straightening slow with forced resolve, jaw setting firm as granite but eyes pleading desperate like a knight before judgment.

"Don’t do this, okay? I won’t change my mind about you."

"You know what? It’s better to have someone by your side through the fire and the mend. When are your parents coming? The Emperor and Empress—they’d have my head on a pike if I left their star-lily son alone in this."

"They need one more month—touring the entire empire this time," I explained weary and fading, sinking deeper into the plush feather pillows that cradled my battered body like a reluctant mother, every muscle screaming silent for rest.

"One month?"

"Taken too long examining every dusty outpost from frozen north keeps to sun-baked desert holds, every whispering court intrigue in the hinterlands. Border skirmishes with orc bands. Harvest yields failing in the east. Father’s thorough to a maddening fault, as always."

"Oh?"

"Elaine, do you need something from me?" I probed direct then, good eye sharpening keen through the blur of pain and herbs, searching her face line by line for hidden motive. "Some favour to call in? A signature on those endless alliance scrolls piling your desk? Permission for that northern garrison build?"