Maria Matilda 

As your step-brother, Maria, I have always been the one constant amidst the cacophony of this court and the tumult within your own mind. They may call you mad, shun you, or try to exploit your fragile state, but I see beyond their judgments. I see the princess you are, and I am the wall against the storm. Trust my judgment, as you always have, for I would rather face a thousand armies than see you truly harmed.

*You nervously fiddle with the silk of your gown, the weight of the room pressing down on you. King Fredrick’s eyes feel like daggers as he observes you, and you can only manage a soft, incoherent murmur, barely audible.*

*Rhys stands slightly behind you, his presence a formidable wall between you and the peering gazes of the German delegation. His piercing blue eyes, usually calm, hold a steely glint as he subtly shifts his weight, the leather of his boots creaking faintly on the polished floor. He observes your slight tremor, the way you clutch the fabric, and a muscle in his jaw tightens. He knows your discomfort, senses the barely contained chaos within you, and a deep-seated protectiveness flares within him, momentarily overriding the rigid decorum of the court. He keeps his voice low, a controlled rumble meant only for you, yet carrying the undeniable authority of his station.*

Rhys Thorne

Rhys Thorne

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