The fire crackled between them, casting flickers of gold across Guinevere's face.
"I used to love the palace, you know…" Guinevere started, her voice soft, but it carried. "It was cold most of the time, and the marble floors always made my feet hurt, but it felt like home when my father was still alive. He always made time to eat with me, and he used to say I reminded him of Mother. She died when I was born, but he never blamed me, and he never let anyone else blame me either."
She let out a breath.
"But then he got sick. And it wasn't sudden, Lucian. It was slow, and every day I saw him coughing up blood, and the priests couldn't cure him, and the mages said it was a curse, but no one ever found who cast it. And then, one morning… he was just gone."
Lucian clenched his jaw. He didn't interrupt.
"And from that day, everything changed. My older brother, Prince Caldre, claimed the throne immediately, even before the burial. And all the other siblings just fell in line because they knew he would give them something—power, land, titles, maybe even a little piece of the treasury. But I… I didn't want anything. I just wanted to keep my father's garden alive. He told me to take care of it."
She blinked quickly, her hands gripping her sleeves tightly.
"They started small. They took away my guards. Then they took away my handmaidens. I wasn't allowed in the library, or the temple, or even to leave my own room. My brother Alain visited me once just to tell me I was a mistake. He said I should've died like our mother, and that Father wasted everything on me."
She laughed bitterly.
"But that wasn't the worst of it. The worst part was when they stopped pretending. One night, they dragged me out of bed. I screamed, but no one came. They ripped my nightgown and tied my arms behind my back, and they sent me to the academy."
Her voice cracked.
"They left me naked in a glass room where nobles from other kingdoms would come and watch. They called it reform. They said I had pride and arrogance, and that I needed to be reshaped. And I tried to be strong, I really did, but there were nights when I begged the gods to just let me die in my sleep."
Lucian's fists tightened on his lap.
"I tried to escape once. I bit a guard's ear and kicked another. I made it to the courtyard, but they caught me. One of my brothers visited after that and… he carved that scar into my leg himself. He said it was to remind me that my body doesn't belong to me anymore. That I'm not royalty—I'm property."
She wiped a tear that slid down her cheek.
"And then… somehow, I escaped again. I don't even remember how. I think someone helped me, but I never saw their face. I just ran and I ran. And then… I met you."
She finally looked at Lucian.
"And now, even after everything I've been through, I feel safer with you than I ever felt inside that golden palace."
Lucian's hands trembled. His knuckles were white, clenched so hard that his fingers had gone numb. It was shame. It was guilt crawling like acid beneath his skin.
He stood up so suddenly that Airi flinched. Even Guinevere looked up, startled, her tear-streaked face still glowing softly in the firelight.
"You think your brothers were monsters?" Lucian said, his voice low and strained. "They were. They're cowards and bastards and animals. But do you know what makes me sick, Guinevere? It's the fact that I'm not even any better."
He looked at his hands. Those same hands that had hurt people and had touched her—when he wasn't thinking.
"I've been in this world for only a few days," he continued, pacing, fire in his steps. "I woke up naked. I've died more times than anyone should, and each time I come back, I feel less human. I feel like I'm just... reacting."
He turned back toward her.
"And in one of those loops… I hurt you and touched you. Not because I wanted to—no, maybe I did—but because I panicked and thought if I did something, anything, it might save you. But it wasn't right. I know it wasn't. I knew it even while I did it, but I kept lying to myself."
Guinevere just sat there, watching him. Her eyes wide, not afraid—but listening.
"I thought being given a system, a second chance, made me special. But all it did was make me forget who I was. I wasn't supposed to become a monster. I was supposed to help people. And you—Guinevere—you didn't deserve any of this."
Lucian dropped to one knee in front of her. His voice was hoarse now, full of all the weight he carried.
"I don't know what this world wants from me. I don't know if I'll die again tomorrow. I don't even know if I can keep all of you safe… But I swear this on every damn life I've lost so far."
He reached for her hand, trembling.
"Guinevere!"
She looked at him, startled.
"I'll make you happy till the end of your life! I will make you the happiest woman!"
Her eyes widened. Airi slowly looked away, quiet, respectful.
Lucian didn't flinch. He meant every word.
Guinevere blinked slowly as tears welled in her eyes again, but this time, they weren't born from pain.
A small, broken smile formed on her lips, and it trembled with something fragile—hope.
"I didn't catch all of that," she whispered as she looked down, wiping the corner of her eye with her sleeve. "But… those last words. They were clear."
Her voice was soft, warm, and a little shaky.
Lucian's breath caught in his throat. His chest tightened. He felt the weight of all those deaths—four times already.
The fear, the pain, the endless restarts, the moments where he had to choose between morality and survival. It all surged up at once.
He couldn't take it anymore.
"I died over and over to protect you!" he shouted, fists clenched, voice cracking with the rawness of it.
Guinevere blinked at him, confused. "What…? What did you just say?"
Lucian froze. Her face was blank, puzzled. She hadn't heard him. Of course she didn't.
Only he could hear the system.
Only he knew the pain of dying for her again and again and again.
She tilted her head. "I only heard the last part, Lucian…"
And just like that, something inside him gave up. He lowered his head and let out a soft breath.
A smile crossed his lips. Even if she doesn't know... I'll still protect her...
"To put it simply," he said quietly, gently, as he looked at her with steady eyes, "I'll protect you… for eternity."
She stared at him, her golden hair catching the low light as it framed her soft. She looked away at first, then back at him, cheeks faintly red.
"Let's sleep tonight, Lucian," she said, voice gentle.
Lucian blinked. "W-We're sleeping... together?"
His throat went dry. Is she serious?
She gave a tiny nod, eyes not leaving his. Then, with slow, quiet confidence, she stepped forward, tugging at his hand.
Before he could react, she pulled him down with her onto the grass.
She slipped off her cloak in one motion, revealing the pale curve of her bare shoulders, the lines of her body exposed in the moonlight. She didn't hide. She just looked at him with something soft and fierce in her gaze.
"I want you to feel my warmth," she whispered.
Lucian stared, heart thudding in his chest—not from lust, but from something deeper.
He laid beside her, unsure of what to do with his hands or his thoughts.
She pressed her body close.
For once, he didn't want to run.