On Her Own

Back in Queen Maeve's chambers, the atmosphere was heavy with tension. King Oberon turned to leave, but Maeve, still kneeling on the ground, grabbed his hand. Her voice was desperate, uncaring that the king's guards and the other princes stood nearby. 

"You have to help me, Oberon. You're the only one I have left," she pleaded.

For a moment, it seemed as though a flicker of pity flashed in Oberon's eyes. But then his gaze fell on Ramirez's body—charred and burnt from the earlier fight between Aldric and Maeve. Despite the chaos and lingering smoke, Oberon's sensitive nose caught the unmistakable scent of Maeve and Ramirez intertwined.

"So, you lose him, and suddenly I'm the only one left for you?" Oberon sneered. "What was I all those years you were with him?"

The blood drained from Maeve's face, and she realized she was truly doomed. 

"You knew?" Maeve's voice sharpened, the realization dawning on her.