Hazel Oakley, the General's daughter

The next morning, Daedric sat motionless in the steaming water of the royal bath, his eyes fixed on a distant point, lost in thought. His fingers absentmindedly rubbed together as the warmth of the water began to fade.

"Your Royal Highness," came Jameson's voice from behind the curtains, respectful yet firm. "The water must be cold by now. It's been nearly an hour."

An hour? Daedric blinked, his sense of time slipping away. Without a word, he rose from the bath, water cascading from his form as he stepped out. Once dressed, he moved toward his main chamber with deliberate steps, his expression unreadable.

As he adjusted his cufflinks, Jameson finally broached the topic he'd been holding back. "The Queen has organized a meeting to discuss your future wife, Your Highness."