Lola sat by the window long after the stars had claimed the sky. Her gown pooled around her like shadows gathering at her feet. Candlelight flickered faintly beside her, but it offered no comfort, only a cruel reminder of the hour.
She had waited.
And waited.
But Xander never came.
With a soft, broken sound, she slid down against the cold wall, folding her arms around herself. Her breath caught in her chest, and the tears came like a tide. Silent at first, then with the full force of a woman undone.
This wasn't what love was meant to feel like.
She had offered him her heart, and now it felt as though she'd committed a grievous sin. Loving him felt like a crime, and she, its only criminal.
Across the palace, the imperial greenhouse glowed faintly under the moonlight. A quiet sanctuary for a man who no longer believed in peace.
Xander sat slouched on a stone bench, a half-empty bottle of Scotch in his hand, his gaze lost somewhere between the vines and his regrets.
He knew she was waiting.
And he couldn't bring himself to face her.
The door creaked open, and a figure stepped through the dim light.
"Is everything alright, Your Majesty?" came a familiar voice, Lord Caspian, his tone laced with surprise.
Xander didn't turn. "You can't sleep either?"
Caspian stepped forward, hands tucked behind his back. "A lot on my mind, sire."
Without invitation, he poured himself a modest glass of Scotch and sat beside the Emperor.
"I didn't take you for a drinker," Xander murmured, eyes still fixed ahead.
"I'm not," Caspian replied with a soft chuckle. "But sometimes, when sleep fails, even the smallest vice offers comfort."
Xander finally looked at him, eyes clouded, heavy with thought.
"Looking for someone to share your troubles with?" Caspian asked gently.
"Why don't we start with yours?" Xander countered, shifting slightly as if ready to listen.
Caspian hesitated, then exhaled. "I've sent letters to my beloved, dozens, perhaps more. Not one has been returned. I've written to my king, and all I receive are reassurances. But something tells me…" He trailed off, rubbing the rim of his glass. "Something isn't right."
"If your king says all is well, perhaps it is," Xander offered, though his voice lacked conviction.
"I wish I could believe that," Caspian replied, his gaze distant.
A long silence followed, broken only by the soft rustle of leaves against the glass walls.
Then Caspian turned to the Emperor.
"May I ask, sire… what's troubling you?"
Xander paused.
His grip on the bottle tightened before he spoke.
"I did something I cannot undo," he said, his voice low. "And I fear… I've wounded someone far more deeply than I intended."
Caspian waited.
Xander leaned in, eyes now steady. "I'm going to tell you something, and when I do… I'll need your counsel, not as a courtier but as a man."
Caspian gave a slow nod. "Then speak freely, Your Majesty. You have my ears… and my loyalty."