A long silence followed. Her hands were tight at her sides.
When she finally spoke, her voice was quieter than before. "This happened because of me."
"No—"
"It did." Her eyes were glassy, but dry. "They went after you because I kept visiting. Because I talked to you like you mattered. Like you weren't just some stray they dragged in."
Alex stood up slowly, leaning against the wall. "That doesn't make it your fault."
Her jaw tightened. "Doesn't it?"
"You didn't swing the sword," he said gently. "You didn't leave me here. You're the only one who came."
She stared at him. There was something brittle in the way she held herself, like the wrong word might shatter whatever she was holding back. "You almost died in here."
"I didn't."
"But you could've."
A long pause stretched between them. Then:
"I'll get you out," she whispered.
He blinked. "What?"
She stepped closer, but kept her distance. "I don't care what the reports say. Someone saw him drunk. Someone heard something. I'll find it."
"They won't listen to you either, Historia."
She met his eyes, steady and sharper now. "They'll listen to their Queen."
That made him pause.
"Even if they do," he murmured, "what then? I get out and what—go back to pretending none of this happened?"
"No," she said. "You don't pretend."
"Then what?"
"I don't know," she admitted. "But not this."
He gave a short exhale. Not quite a laugh, but something close. "You'll cause trouble."
"I already do."
He looked at her for a long moment.
"You shouldn't be here," he said, finally.
She looked at him. "Neither should you."
And for the first time since she'd entered, his shoulders dropped just a little.
He hesitated, then blurted out, "Can I... hug you?"
The words hung awkwardly between them.
Historia's eyes widened, a flicker of surprise and uncertainty crossing her face. She glanced away, then back again, searching his expression. Slowly, cautiously, she nodded.
He stepped forward, careful not to rush. When his arms wrapped around her, it felt tentative—like reaching for something fragile.
He realized then just how small she was. Her forehead barely reached his chin.
Her cheeks flushed faintly pink, and he felt a strange warmth in the quiet space between them.
Neither said anything.
They just stayed there—still, connected, breathing.
For the first time, the weight of everything seemed a little lighter.
The moment lingered until Historia pulled back, her breath catching slightly as she stepped away into the shadows.
"I should go," she said softly, voice barely above a whisper.
Alex nodded, watching her leave without another word. The door shut quietly behind her, leaving the cell cold and empty again.
Days later, the word of his innocence spread quietly through the ranks. Rumors, whispers, and careful nudges from unexpected allies finally reached the right ears.
One crisp morning, a guard unlocked his cell and motioned for him to follow. The heavy weight in his chest lifted just a little.
Back at the castle, in the soft light of a private sitting room, Historia paced slowly. The faint scent of rain clung to her cloak.
A knock came at the door. "Come in," she called.
The door opened, and Sasha stepped inside, boots soft on the stone floor.
"Your Majesty," Sasha greeted with a small smile, holding a folded report.
"I heard about Alex refugee guy," Sasha said after a moment.
Sasha hesitated, then added, "You saved him. That was brave."
Sasha sat down across from her, her tone shifting to something more familiar, warmer.
Historia took a slow breath, folding the report in her hands before setting it gently on the table between them.
"It's... complicated," she began, eyes distant for a moment. "The first time I met him, he didn't look at me like a queen. Didn't call me 'Your Majesty' or anything like that. Just 'Historia.' No ceremony. No bowing. Nothing."
Sasha raised an eyebrow, leaning forward with a teasing grin. "Sounds refreshing."
Historia smiled faintly but quickly sobered. "It made me realize how lonely this crown can be. No one ever just sees me... as me."
She looked up, meeting Sasha's eyes. "He's not exactly trusting. Not like he's some naive kid who believes in fairy tales. But... I can tell he's genuine in ways I haven't seen before."
Sasha tapped her chin thoughtfully. "So... what, you're playing guardian angel now?"
Historia laughed softly, the sound light but a little bitter. "Maybe."
Sasha's grin widened mischievously. "Or maybe you're... in love?"
Historia's cheeks flushed faintly, her eyes darting away for a moment.
"Don't be ridiculous," she muttered, though the softness in her voice betrayed her.
Sasha chuckled. "You don't have to hide it from me. I can keep a secret."
Historia rolled her eyes but didn't deny it. Instead, she sighed.
"He's different. And somehow... in this mess, that means something."
Sasha smiled warmly. "Then hold on to that, Historia. People like that don't come around often."
Historia gave a small, reluctant smile, the kind that barely touched her eyes. "Maybe. But people like that also get caught up in storms. And I don't want to be the reason someone gets lost."
Sasha shrugged, folding her hands on the table. "Storms come whether you like it or not. Better to have someone by your side when they hit."
Historia's gaze dropped to the folded report again, then back up. "I keep wondering if I'm just imagining things. Maybe I'm projecting hope onto someone who's only here because fate twisted strangely."
Sasha shook her head, firm. "Hope is not a weakness. It's what keeps us standing when everything else tries to break us."
There was a beat of silence between them, filled only by the faint sound of rain tapping against the window.
Historia's voice softened. "I don't know where this will go. If he'll even trust me enough to stay. But... for the first time, I think I want to try."