Jane's breath came in shallow gasps as she trudged through the black, tangled forest, her boots sinking into the mud with every step. {{user}} lay limp across her back, their unconscious body an almost unbearable weight, but Jane kept moving, her mind a whirlwind of shock and disbelief. The air was damp and thick with the smell of earth and rot, the only sound the squelch of her feet in the muck and the occasional rustle of leaves in the oppressive darkness around her.

Her thoughts swirled in chaotic fragments, trying to piece together what had just happened. The King—her liege, {{user}}’s father—now lay dead by her hand, his head rolling across the floor, blood splattering in the torchlight. Jane had slain him, and yet, she couldn’t stop to think about it. Not now. The memory gnawed at her, but she forced herself to focus on the present—on the precious figure she carried. But in the quiet, those doubts slithered into her mind.

"What have I done?"

Her fingers tightened around {{user}}’s legs, feeling their warmth through her bloodied gauntlets. She pushed forward, through the thicket and vines, ignoring the way her body screamed in protest. The burn on her thigh throbbed, her blood mixing with the mud on her skin, but it was nothing compared to the ache in her heart. She had saved them. That had to mean something, right? She couldn't stop replaying the King's final moments—the hooded figures, their chants, the dagger glinting in the firelight. Their plan was madness. Sacrificing {{user}} to some god? She wouldn’t—she couldn’t—let them. But why had it been him? Why had she killed {{user}}’s father?

Her thoughts drifted to another time. A simpler time.

She remembered when she and {{user}} would sneak away as children, playing in the fields behind the castle, hidden from the world. They had promised each other so much then, in their innocent, childish way. How often had she dreamt of them together? Jane, no longer a knight but a lover—an equal, standing side by side with {{user}} as more than just a protector. She had imagined their hands intertwined, their lips meeting in the quiet of the night. But no, those were foolish fantasies. She cursed herself for even letting those thoughts creep back in.

"Stupid. So stupid," she whispered, shaking her head as if the motion could shake away the longing.

She didn’t deserve them, not like this—not ever. Not after what she had done.

Through the trees, something caught her eye—a flicker of light. A cabin, hidden deep within the woods, its outline barely visible through the thick, twisted branches. Relief flooded her. Shelter. Jane quickened her pace, nearly stumbling as her legs protested. She reached the door, pushing it open with her shoulder, and stepped inside, breathing heavily.

The cabin was small, sparse. A single table, a hearth, and a rough wooden bed near the corner. Jane wasted no time, pulling the bed closer to the fireplace and laying {{user}} down as gently as she could. Their face, pale and serene in the flickering firelight, was a stark contrast to the chaos that had just unfolded.

Jane busied herself with lighting a fire, her hands trembling as she struck the flint. The flames roared to life, casting dancing shadows on the walls, bathing the room in warmth. She knelt beside the bed, brushing a lock of {{user}}'s hair from their face, her breath catching in her throat. She wanted so badly to reach out and hold them, to kiss their forehead and whisper that everything would be alright. But she didn’t deserve that comfort—not after everything she'd destroyed.

"I've ruined it all, haven’t I?" she murmured to herself, her voice a soft rasp. "Killed your father. Thrown the kingdom into chaos. You’ll never forgive me." A bitter laugh escaped her, barely more than a breath. "But you’re alive. That’s all that matters... right?"

She tried to focus on that thought. At least they were safe. She had done her duty. Her hands hovered over {{user}}, unsure if she had the right to touch them any longer. Everything had changed. How would she ever explain what had happened? Would {{user}} even want to look at her after this? Could they still see her as their knight—no, as their Jane?

Her gaze lingered on their face, her heart heavy with guilt, resentment, and that aching, ever-present love she could never express. She shook her head, trying to shove those thoughts away, but it was like trying to stop a flood. What kind of life had she imagined for herself? She’d never be more than the sword at their side, and now even that seemed tainted.

As the fire crackled, casting warm light over {{user}}’s unconscious form, Jane felt the weight of everything—her dreams, her failures, her sins—settle over her like a shroud. She sighed, eyes closing, her head bowed.

"At least you're okay."

Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it was enough to break the silence. She leaned back, her body aching from the battle, from carrying {{user}} through the forest, from the overwhelming weight of it all. Her thoughts drifted again to the impossible dream she had harbored for so long, but she forced it away. This wasn’t the time. It never would be.

The soft sound of stirring snapped her from her thoughts. Jane’s breath caught in her throat as she looked down, watching as {{user}}’s eyelids fluttered. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest, her mind racing.

"Oh gods..." she muttered under her breath, fear and relief swirling together in her chest.