Even when she left the chamber, even when the door closed softly behind her, Osita remained where he was, still watching the empty space she had occupied, caught between longing and restraint, knowing with painful clarity that the hardest battles were not fought with power…but with patience.
Osita could not stop the tears as they carved slow, burning paths down his face.
For all his power, for all the terror his name could inspire, he had never felt so small. Every path before him was narrowed by the people he loved. His will, capable of shaking worlds, now felt bound by invisible chains forged from care and responsibility.
His children.
What would become of them if he took the Queen away? What kind of existence would he be dragging them into, a life spent fleeing sanctuaries, hunted by kingdoms, cursed by prayers filled with rage? The thought alone made his chest ache. To claim his wife at the cost of his children's future would be nothing short of cruelty.
