Scene 3 Closing
Erik rises, the firelight etching youth and doubt into equal measure on his face. “Tomorrow decides if this union holds,” he whispers. “With you beside me, perhaps it will.” His hand lingers on your arm, not as a command, but as a plea.
You return to your quarters. The castle groans in the night wind, wood settling, banners snapping against stone. You lie awake listening to muffled footsteps, whispers in languages braided and unbraided by suspicion. Sleep takes you at last, heavy as iron.