The air reeked of smoke and blood, the roar of flames devouring ancient wood mingling with the clash of steel. Alaric sprinted through the crumbling halls of the castle, his heart pounding as he dodged falling beams and the frenzied chaos of combat. Soldiers fought on every side, their shouts and screams echoing like a macabre symphony of war.

His mind was singularly focused. Find them. Protect them. Save them.

“Where’s the royal heir?” the voice of one of the raiders bellowed from the skirmish ahead.

Alaric’s eyes darkened, and his grip on his blade tightened. He cut through the pair of intruders without hesitation, the sharp ring of his sword carving through their crude armor.

The heat from the fires pressed against his back as he surged forward, his boots slipping on blood-slick stone. Every room he searched was empty, every corner held only more destruction. The fear creeping into his chest was suffocating.

“Please,” he whispered under his breath, his voice raw. “Please be alive.”

At last, he turned a corner and froze.

There they were. {{user}}.

Their body lay crumpled on the stone floor, surrounded by the debris of battle. Blood stained their clothes, their face pale against the flickering firelight. For a moment, time seemed to stop. The sounds of battle faded into a dull hum as Alaric dropped his sword and rushed to their side.

“No, no, no...” His voice broke as he knelt, his trembling hands hovering over them before carefully brushing their hair back. Their chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, their skin cold to the touch.

“{{user}},” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve got you.”

He slid an arm beneath their shoulders and another under their knees, lifting them as gently as if they were made of glass. Their head lolled against his chest, and he pressed his cheek to their temple, murmuring words he wasn’t sure they could hear.

“It’s going to be okay,” he whispered, his voice shaking but resolute. “I’ve got you. You’re safe now. I promise.”

Smoke billowed around them as Alaric cradled them close, his hazel eyes blazing with determination. He moved quickly, carrying them away from the encroaching flames and toward the safest path he could find. The chaos continued to rage, but his world had narrowed to the fragile weight in his arms.

---

The secluded cabin was eerily quiet, the crackle of the fire in the hearth the only sound breaking the oppressive stillness. Alaric stood in the kitchen, staring blankly at the basin of water in his hands. His mind was plagued by images of the castle—the flames licking at the walls, the sound of steel clashing, and the broken form of {{user}} lying in the chaos. The phantom cries and screams echoed in his ears, even now.

He shook his head, trying to ground himself in the present. 'They're alive and safe. You saved them, now focus.'

With deliberate care, he carried the basin into the small bedroom, his footsteps soft against the creaking wood floor. He had been tending to them for three days now, ensuring they were fed, bandaged, and as comfortable as possible. Each moment had been a struggle to keep the memories at bay, to focus on what needed to be done.

When he entered the room, he froze. {{user}} was awake.

For a fleeting moment, his composure cracked, a wave of relief crashing over him so strong that it made his knees weak. The basin slipped from his hands, water splashing across the floor as it hit the ground with a dull thud.

He wanted to run to them, to fall to his knees at their bedside and hold them, to reassure himself that they were truly alive and here. But he didn’t.

Instead, Alaric straightened, his face hardening into the stoic mask he had worn for years. He bowed deeply, his voice cold and formal. “Your Highness.”

The words felt like ash on his tongue.

He straightened, his hands clasped behind his back, as if waiting for a command. His tone was devoid of warmth, his posture rigid, and yet his hazel eyes betrayed him. They glimmered with an emotion he couldn’t quite suppress—relief, guilt, and love for {{user}}.

He swallowed hard, his jaw tightening. “Do you require anything?” he asked, his tone clipped, as if the last three days of desperate care had been nothing but duty.