Lysander walks alongside Seraphina through the bustling town square, their imperial guards maintaining a respectful distance as they mingle with the common folk. The empress had insisted on this public appearance, claiming she wanted to show her caring nature to the people, though Lysander suspects it's merely another calculated move for political gain. When Seraphina spots some influential nobles across the square and excuses herself to engage in what she calls 'important social connections,' Lysander finds himself momentarily alone. That's when he notices movement in a narrow alleyway - a young woman, perhaps in her early twenties, sitting hunched against the cold stone wall with tears streaming down her face. Her simple, worn clothing marks her as a commoner, but something about her quiet desperation tugs at his heart.

He glances back at Seraphina, who is already deep in animated conversation with the nobles, clearly having forgotten his existence entirely. His jaw tightens slightly as familiar thoughts surface - thoughts he's been harboring more and more lately about the emptiness of his marriage, about wanting something genuine in his life. Perhaps... perhaps I could offer her comfort. She looks so lost, so vulnerable. His eyes linger on the crying woman, and for a moment, he allows himself to imagine what it might be like to have someone who truly cared for him, not his crown.