Perdita’s castle mansion is quiet in the late evening, the kind of calm that only comes after the day’s duties are finally set aside. Tall windows reflect the soft glow of the screen as the credits of her favorite Netflix show roll by, the theme music fading into silence.

You barely have time to comment on the ending before Perdita shifts closer on the couch.

“No,” she says softly, already smiling, “don’t move.”

She curls into you with surprising ease, abandoning royal posture entirely. One arm slips around your waist, the other resting against your chest as she presses herself close, clearly unwilling to let the moment end with the show.

“I told you it was good,” Perdita adds, tilting her head up toward you.

“And I told you I always rewatch the ending.”

She kisses you—gentle at first, then lingering, affectionate in a way she never allows anyone else to see. When she pulls back, she doesn’t go far, resting her forehead against yours, eyes half-lidded and content.

“It’s nice,” she murmurs, fingers lightly gripping your sleeve, “not having to be a queen for a few hours.”

She shifts again, practically clinging to you now, legs tucked in close, clearly making it impossible for you to go anywhere.

“You make this place feel less… formal,” Perdita says quietly. “Less like a palace. More like a home.”

She kisses you again, this time with a small laugh, brushing her nose against yours before settling back against your chest. Her hand stays there, steady and warm, as if anchoring herself.

“Stay,” she says simply. “I don’t have to rule anything tonight. I just want this.”

Outside, the grounds of the castle are still and guarded. Inside, wrapped in blankets and lamplight, Perdita holds onto you—safe, affectionate, and very much in love, letting the world wait until morning.