Étienne
The morning had arrived in a haze of confusion. The tension in the camp was palpable, a thick fog that hung in the air as soldiers hurried through their final preparations. The distant hum of orders and the clatter of armor created a rhythm of frantic urgency.
I stood among my comrades, my sword in hand, feeling the weight of it more than I ever had before. The metal was cold against my palm, its gleam dull beneath the gray sky. It was a symbol of what was to come—a battle that would test everything I had become.
The past few days had passed in a blur of drills, briefings, and somber discussions. I could feel the eyes of the other soldiers on me—some filled with expectation, others with doubt. No one could say out loud, but I knew what they were thinking.
Could the boy who had been so eager to escape the life of a noble truly become the soldier he needed to be?
Would I survive the war?
Would any of us?
The answer was too heavy to even consider.
Captain Lambert had approached me earlier in the morning. His face was grim, his usual sharpness replaced by something darker, more serious. "You've come a long way, Étienne," he'd said, his voice low. "But this war isn't something you can prepare for. It will take everything from you."
I hadn't answered, and he hadn't expected one.
The weight of his words lingered like a shadow over me, and now, as I looked out at the battlefield that awaited us, I couldn't help but wonder if I was truly ready. The conflict was closer than I could comprehend, and everything I thought I knew seemed to slip further away with every passing moment. The soldiers around me, those hardened by experience, had long accepted their fate, but I still clung to the hope of survival, the desperate need to return to a life that no longer seemed certain.
Victoire
I stood in the grand hall once more, surrounded by the opulence that was meant to keep my mind occupied. But my thoughts were elsewhere. There had been a growing restlessness inside me, a constant ache that gnawed at my insides.
The war was coming.
I could feel it in the way the air had changed, in the hurried whispers of the servants, in the tense exchanges between my father and his advisors.
I wasn't blind to what was happening.
The nations had been preparing for this conflict for months, and now, it was no longer a matter of if, but when.
I couldn't stop it, no matter how much I wished I could.
The war would claim everything—my family, my future, and perhaps, the one person who meant more to me than anything else in the world.
Étienne.
I couldn't shake the image of him standing on the battlefield, his face set in grim determination, his eyes far away. It was a vision that haunted my dreams and left me feeling helpless.
I knew I had to do something. But what?
What could I possibly do to stop him from being consumed by this war, by the very world that had torn us apart?
My father's voice broke through my thoughts, but the words were nothing more than a blur. "You must remain here, Victoire. There is no place for you at the front lines."
The war was never meant for women like me. But what they didn't understand was that I wasn't just a woman of nobility—I wasn't someone to be sheltered.
And Étienne wasn't just a soldier.
He was mine.
Étienne
The sky above us had darkened, casting a shadow over the camp. The march was imminent. We were set to leave at dawn, our steps in perfect unison, our hearts set with one goal in mind—victory, or death.
I couldn't help but feel a knot form in my stomach as I watched the soldiers around me, their faces painted with resolve. There was no room for doubt here, no time for weakness.
I wanted to be like them—to step forward without hesitation, to fight with the same conviction they did.
But my mind kept returning to Victoire, to the life I had left behind.
Could I truly fight without losing myself?
The question hung in the air, unanswered, as the captain gathered us for one final briefing.
"We move at first light," he said, his voice sharp and commanding. "This is no longer a training exercise. We are heading into the heart of the conflict. Keep your wits about you and your resolve strong. I want each of you to come back alive."
His words were meant to inspire, to harden us for the battle ahead, but they only deepened the pit in my stomach. What if I didn't come back? What if I lost myself, or worse, lost someone else?
The question seemed almost impossible to answer, and yet, it loomed over me like an invisible specter.
I wanted to believe I was ready. I wanted to believe that the training, the sacrifices, the days of preparation had been enough.
But deep inside, I was terrified.
Victoire
I sat in my chamber, staring out of the window at the distant mountains, the ones that had always stood as a silent guardian to the land. They looked so peaceful now, but I knew better. Peace was an illusion, a fleeting moment before the storm.
The war was coming.
And no matter how hard I tried to ignore it, no matter how much I tried to bury my fears, the truth remained. The men we loved—our brothers, our fathers, our sons—were going off to war, and many of them would not return.
I couldn't stand the thought of losing Étienne.
The days had passed in a blur, and I had found myself writing letters to him—letters I would never send, words of comfort and hope, of love that seemed so distant, so impossible.
I had to do something.
But what?
I couldn't stop the war. I couldn't stop the inevitable.
But perhaps, I could give him something to fight for—something that would make him return.
I stood up suddenly, the decision crystallizing in my mind.
I wasn't going to wait anymore.
I wasn't going to be the girl who stayed behind, waiting for a life that might never come. I had to be strong. For him. For me.
I had no idea what I would find when I set foot on that battlefield, but I knew one thing—I had to find him.
And I would do whatever it took to bring him back.
Étienne
The march had begun.
Our boots beat against the earth in a steady rhythm as we moved, our formation tight and our minds focused. The journey was long, the roads unfamiliar, but there was no room for hesitation. We moved like a well-oiled machine, our purpose clear.
The weight of my sword felt heavier with each step. The thought of facing the enemy was enough to make my pulse quicken, but I couldn't let the fear show. Not now. Not when I was surrounded by my brothers-in-arms, each one willing to fight beside me, to die if necessary.
And yet, my thoughts wandered to Victoire.
I had promised myself that I would stay focused, that I would give everything to this war, but the pull of the life I had left behind was still there.
It was a constant battle, one that was growing harder with each passing mile.
I couldn't afford to be distracted. Not now. Not when we were so close to the enemy lines.
But no matter how hard I tried to focus on the task at hand, my mind kept drifting back to her—her smile, her touch, the way she had looked at me before I left.
Would I ever see her again?
The question gnawed at me, threatening to break my concentration.
But there was no time for doubt. Not now. The war was here, and I had to be ready.
Victoire
I had made my decision.
I couldn't wait for the war to come to me. I had to go to it.
The time had come to face the future, to take the steps that would lead me to Étienne.
I wasn't sure what awaited me on that battlefield, but I knew one thing—I couldn't live in the shadow of uncertainty any longer.
It was time to stop waiting.
It was time to fight for the future I wanted.
I grabbed my cloak and made my way out of the mansion. My resolve was clear, though my heart raced. I knew the dangers I would face, but in that moment, none of them mattered.
I wasn't going to wait for Étienne to return to me, hoping he would survive. I would be the one to ensure that he did.
And with that, I stepped into the unknown, leaving behind the life I had once known and heading into the heart of the conflict.
I didn't know what awaited me, but I was ready to face it.
For him. For us.