The snow is different.

  Not higher, not colder.

  Just… constant. As if it decided to stay.

  Mom says that’s a good thing. That predictable roads are safer.

  I agree with my head. But something in me misses the danger.

  Maybe I’m becoming strange.

  Bruno spends more time away now. He always comes back smelling of iron, smoke, and that heavy silence he carries like a second suit of armor. Mom always asks if he’s hurt. Always. Even when I don’t ask anything.

  I notice useless things.

  The way he listens more than he speaks.

  The way Mom straightens her posture when he enters.

  The way I get irritated for no clear reason after that.

  Today I tried to train on my own. I managed to hold the blade longer without my arms trembling. It’s not much, but it’s more than before. When Bruno saw it, he only said:

  "Better."

  It was just one word.

  But I stayed proud for the rest of the day.

  That’s strange too.

  A few days later, Mom asked me to fetch water with him. She said I needed to "learn to manage on my own." Maybe she’s right. Maybe she was just tired.

  We walked in silence to the frozen river. The sky was too clear, almost empty.

  "You walk more firmly," Bruno commented, breaking the literal ice with his boot.

  "I didn’t trip," I replied.

  "No. You didn’t."

  I took that as a victory.

  While we filled the canteens, I thought about saying something. I didn’t know what. I just felt that if I didn’t say anything, it would grow bigger inside me.

  "Bruno…" I started, then stopped.

  He didn’t rush me. He never does.

  "You…" I took a deep breath. "Do you stay here so long because of her?"

  He understood. He always understands more than he says.

  "I stay because of the mission," he answered. "And because someone has to keep you alive."

  That should have been enough.

  But it wasn’t.

  "I understand," I lied.

  We went back without saying anything else. Still, my chest felt too full.

  Tonight I write while Mom sleeps. She seems calmer since he arrived. Sleeps better. Dreams less. That’s good. I know it is.

  So why do I sometimes feel like jumping off the wagon just so I don’t have to see the two of them talking near the campfire?

  It’s not anger.

  It’s not sadness.

  It’s like something that used to be my space is… occupied. Even if it was never really mine.

  Maybe it’s just fear of being alone again.

  Maybe I’m inventing problems.

  Bruno once said that feelings demand attention.

  But he didn’t say when they start giving orders.

  I still haven’t said anything.

  I still don’t know how to speak.

  But I notice one thing:

  before, I ran when something hurt.

  Now, I stay.

  And that, to me, is already a change.

  "Are you okay?"

  "AHHHH!" The princess was so focused on her own book that she didn’t even notice the warrior watching her.

  "B-Bruno? Sorry, but what do you mean, if I’m okay?"

  "You didn’t even touch your food. You just kept… writing."

  Elaris pulled the plate closer as if she had only now remembered it. She stirred the stew with the spoon, not really eating.

  "I was thinking."

  "Thinking doesn’t fill your stomach."

  She made an almost imperceptible pout.

  "You always say that."

  Bruno shrugged, resting the sword beside the log where he sat.

  "Because it’s true."

  Silence fell between them, broken only by the low crackle of the firewood. Elaris went back to the notebook, but didn’t write. She just ran her finger along the edge of the pages, nervous.

  "My mother talks to you when I’m asleep,"

  she said without looking at him.

  "She’s your mother. That’s normal."

  "I know."

  Too quickly. "I just… wake up sometimes."

  Bruno looked at her for a moment longer than usual.

  "Bad dreams?"

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  Elaris hesitated. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either.

  "I think so."

  He nodded, simply, as if accepting that without needing more explanations.

  "If it happens again, wake me."

  "Why?"

  "Because it’s easier to scare monsters away when you’re awake."

  She smiled without realizing it, a small, almost hidden smile. When she noticed, she quickly lowered her face back to the book.

  "You don’t talk like that to anyone else."

  "Like what?"

  "Less cold."

  Bruno stayed silent. The fire reflected in his eyes, but they were still hard to read.

  "Maybe because you ask too many questions."

  "So it’s my fault?"

  "Almost always."

  She laughed softly, covering the sound with her hand.

  "Bruno…"

  "Hmm?"

  "When all this ends… you’re going to leave, right?"

  The question came out too light for something that weighed so much. Bruno took a while to answer.

  "That’s my job."

  Elaris nodded slowly, like someone who had already expected that answer. She went back to writing, but this time the words trembled a little.

  "I understand."

  Bruno looked away at the snow falling beyond the firelight.

  "Eat before it gets cold."

  She obeyed. Not because she was hungry, but because, for some strange reason, she didn’t want to disappoint him.

  "Bruno."

  "Yes."

  "Every time you’re close to my mother, my heart hurts,"

  she said quietly, almost like confessing a secret. "Is there something wrong with me?"

  The knight took a while to answer. Not because he didn’t want to, but because the question made no sense within battles, orders, and blood. He rubbed the back of his neck, uncomfortable.

  "No. There’s nothing wrong with you,"

  he said at last. "I know I look like someone frightening, but I’m here only to defend you. It’s my honor."

  Elaris tilted her head, watching him like someone who realizes he answered something else.

  "You didn’t understand, idiot."

  Kearlin appeared, floating beside him, arms crossed and wearing a mocking smile.

  "I don’t think that’s it, Bruno,"

  Elaris said now, with a small laugh, more embarrassed than amused. "I would never be afraid of you, silly."

  She slowly stood and went to sit beside her sleeping mother, pulling the blanket up to cover her better. Before closing her eyes, she cast one last quick glance at the knight, as if she wanted to say something more but didn’t know how.

  Silence returned.

  "What did I do wrong, Kearlin?"

  Bruno asked quietly, almost irritated with himself.

  The spirit spun in the air, looking at Elaris sleeping, then at Bruno.

  "You didn’t do anything wrong,"

  he said, surprisingly serious. "You’re just trying to deal with feelings as if they were enemies."

  Bruno closed his eyes for a moment.

  "Is that worse than fighting?"

  Kearlin smiled sideways.

  "Much worse. Enemies you cut down. That stuff grows on its own."

  "Damn it."

  Bruno replied. He simply sat back on guard, sword within reach, but for the first time that night, the danger didn’t come from the snow or the darkness. His mind wouldn’t stop running over that moment.

  How much time has passed?

  I no longer know how many days have passed since we started running. Sometimes it feels like yesterday; sometimes it feels like I lived an entire lifetime since then. The cold changed, the roads changed, I changed… and even so, some things remained.

  My father’s brother finally received what he deserved.

  Not by Bruno’s hands.

  Not by heroes or miracles.

  It was his own choices that destroyed him. Exposed betrayals, allies turning away, a tired people. In the end, there was no glory and no forgiveness. Only late justice. Maybe that’s the closest thing to revenge that exists.

  My mother… no, Queen Isolde… returned to the throne today. Seeing the crown on her head was strange. She was always strong, but now she carries a different weight, one I can no longer share with her like before. When everyone knelt, I wanted to run and hug her like when it was just the two of us fleeing in an old wagon.

  But I stayed still. I learned to stay.

  Bruno remained behind, as always.

  Sword at his side.

  Watchful eyes.

  As if the world could still fall on us at any moment.

  Sometimes I wonder if he realizes how much everything is over. There is no more pursuit. No more nights without fire. No more blood in the snow. Even so, he stays on guard… as if that were the only way he knows how to exist.

  I changed too. I’m no longer the child who ran through the forest screaming. I’m not just the ice princess. I learned to listen, to wait, to hide what I feel behind ordinary words. Maybe I learned that from him.

  And that’s why writing hurts today.

  Because everything is resolved.

  And now there’s no excuse.

  I can’t say I need him to survive.

  I can’t pretend it’s just fear or gratitude.

  I can’t hide it anymore behind my mother, the danger, or the winter.

  My heart still races when he comes close. It still hurts when he goes away. I still feel strangely safe when he’s near, even in silence.

  I don’t know when I’ll find the courage.

  Maybe tomorrow.

  Maybe never.

  But if I spent a little over three years running from the world… I don’t want to spend the rest running from what I feel.

  When I close this diary, I’ll take a deep breath.

  And look at him not as my knight.

  But as…

  "Bruno."

  "Yes, my queen."

  I finally manage to raise my gaze. His smile is weak, tired, almost hidden, but it still lights me up in a way I can’t explain. It’s not warmth. It’s not fire. It’s something quieter, safer.

  "B-b-b-Bruno…"

  The words get stuck. Everything weighs at once. My chest tightens, my throat closes. I can’t go on.

  Then I feel a cold, firm touch on my back. I’ve known that touch forever.

  My mother. Queen Isolde.

  She doesn’t say anything at first. She just stays there, like she used to when I was little and the world felt too big. That simple gesture gives me courage… or at least keeps me from retreating.

  I already told her.

  About the confusion.

  About the tightness in my chest.

  About how my heart behaves strangely whenever Bruno is near.

  She has lived more than I have. Loved, lost, survived. She said that if there were someone capable of carrying this feeling without breaking it, that someone would be him.

  Isolde steps forward, her voice calm but firm like uncracked ice.

  "Bruno, my daughter wants to tell you something. I ask only one thing… think carefully before answering."

  He straightens his posture at once. Not like a warrior in battle, but like someone facing something that can’t be solved with a sword.

  "I will listen, my queen."

  Silence falls between us.

  It’s not heavy.

  It’s fragile.

  My heart beats too fast for someone who spent years learning to hold herself back.

  Maybe I’m still that child in the wagon.

  Maybe not.

  But this time… I won’t run.

  "Bruno, warrior… I ask for your hand in marriage."

  Her voice comes out trembling but determined. Elaris extends her hand, eyes tightly shut, as if the world might end if she opened them before the answer.

  "Please… be my prince. Be my knight."

  Bruno freezes.

  It’s not the mountain cold. It’s not the exhaustion of years fighting.

  It’s something else. Something he never learned how to face.

  For a moment, he’s not a warrior. Not a bodyguard.

  He’s just a man who doesn’t know where to put his hands.

  "Hey there, indomitable knight," Kearlin whispers near his ear, far too amused for the situation.

  "Are you really going to make the questionably aged lady wait? You were never famous for saying no to confessions."

  "Be quiet," Bruno murmurs, without taking his eyes off Elaris.

  She’s still there. Hand extended. Too small. Too fragile to carry the weight of that word.

  Bruno takes a deep breath. Once. Twice.

  He kneels.

  Not like someone accepting.

  But like someone choosing to stay on the same level.

  "Elaris…" he begins carefully, as if each syllable could break her.

  "Look at me."

  She opens her eyes slowly.

  "You are brave. Much more than you imagine."

  He swallows.

  "But you are still too young for this kind of promise."

  Silence weighs down.

  Before Elaris can say anything, Isolde steps forward, her presence as firm as ever.

  "Bruno," the queen says, without harshness. Only truth.

  "Among royalty, this kind of union is not uncommon. I’ve seen younger girls carry crowns… and rings."

  Bruno lowers his head for a second. When he speaks, his voice doesn’t tremble, but it’s loaded with something different: responsibility.

  "I know, my queen."

  He raises his gaze again.

  "But knowing it’s common doesn’t make it right for me."

  Elaris holds her breath.

  "I swore to protect your daughter. To give my life, if necessary."

  He pauses.

  "But I won’t accept something she hasn’t yet had time to fully understand."

  His hand doesn’t touch hers.

  But it doesn’t move away either.

  "If one day," Bruno continues, "when you are older… when the world is no longer just flight, fear, and survival…"

  "If even then your feelings are the same… then I will listen."

  Kearlin crosses his arms, sighing.

  "Look at that. Didn’t accept, didn’t reject… classic Bruno."

  Elaris feels the tightness in her chest ease a little. It’s not a yes.

  But it’s not a no either.

  Isolde watches the two of them for a long moment. Then, for the first time in a long while, she smiles softly.

  "That answer," the queen says, "already says a lot about who you are."

  Bruno bows his head in respect.

  And Elaris, even with her face warm and her heart confused, understands one thing:

  He didn’t run.

  And that… for now, is enough.

  Elaris regains her breath. Straightens her back, wipes the corner of her eyes with the back of her hand and, with newly found dignity, points at the hero before her.

  "Remember my words," she says, her voice still young but firm.

  "You will be mine… no matter how much time passes."

  For a second, the world seems to stop.

  An unexpected heat rises to Bruno’s face, coloring it red. It’s not common shame, nor battlefield embarrassment. It’s something simpler. More human.

  He smiles. A small, tired, almost shy smile, the kind that rarely appears on his face marked by wars.

  Then, with the solemnity of a knight and the lightness of someone who doesn’t know how to deal with such big promises, Bruno bows.

  "Yes… my queen."

  Kearlin crosses his arms in the air, satisfied.

  "Dangerous, dangerous… promises made with that much conviction tend to survive time."

  Isolde watches the scene in silence. There is relief in her eyes. Not because everything is resolved, but because everything is… on the right path.

  Elaris clenches her fist against her chest.

  She didn’t gain a prince.

  Not yet.

  But she gained something perhaps more important.

  Time.

  And hope.

  "Cut, cut. How long ago did that happen?"

  Seralyn crosses her arms, impatient, her sharp gaze fixed on Bruno.

  "Around eight years ago."

  Bruno answers without much ceremony. He tries to laugh, but the movement pulls at the bandages under his shirt. The smile turns into a quick grimace.

  "Quite a while, huh."

  Anaalyn doesn’t miss the opportunity.

  "She’s crazy."

  She points at him mercilessly.

  "And you are too."

  Bruno sighs, sinking a little deeper where he sits.

  "I never said I was normal."

  "No," Seralyn retorts, tilting her head. "But you decided to stay in the middle of it all anyway."

  "She was a child being hunted," Bruno replies, his voice lower now. "And I was the only thing between her and a blade in the dark."

  Anaalyn grits her teeth.

  "And you let her grow up thinking you were her entire world."

  Bruno closes his eyes for a moment.

  "I only did what a shield does," he says.

  "Takes the impact… and stays quiet."

  Silence weighs for a few seconds.

  Seralyn clicks her tongue.

  "You really don’t learn, do you?"

  Bruno opens a tired half-smile.

  "Learning was never my strong suit."

  "Just one more problem for us,"

  Tila laughs weakly.