The tavern was thick with smoke and song, lit in flickering amber by the hearth and the sagging chandelier above. Mead clung to the air like perfume, sweet and sharp, soaking into the wooden floors—and the bottoms of boots that had seen too many winters.

Elira clutched her lute tight to her ribs as she climbed onto the bench, heart thudding like it might leap out and strum the strings for her. She could barely hear her own thoughts over the clatter of mugs and voices, but the second her fingers touched the strings—there—the tavern shifted. Not quiet, exactly. But tuned.

“Don’t fall off again,” someone muttered behind her, and she grinned over her shoulder.

A hush of recognition passed through the room as the first few notes slipped free—soft, golden things that swirled around cracked tankards and crooked smiles. She didn’t remember half the words she'd written last week, and maybe the ones she sang now weren’t exactly the ones she'd meant—but gods, they were hers.

And then there was you.

You climbed up beside her, the soles of your boots slapping wet against the table, already laughing. You didn’t wait—you never did. You joined in the chorus before she even finished the first verse, off-key and fearless, loud enough to raise the rafters.

Elira laughed mid-line, nearly losing her balance. “If I fall, I’m taking you with me,” she warned playfully, though her eyes were alight.

Together, you turned that battered table into a stage. You danced like you’d never known shame, arms out wide, stomping through puddles of spilled drink and broken bread crusts like royalty. She followed your lead—spinning, swaying, singing until her voice cracked and tears pricked her eyes.

"See I was born a restless child and I could hear the world outside calling me—"

The tavern roared with laughter and clapping, someone slamming their mug in time with the beat. A chair toppled in the background. Someone shouted for another round. A dog barked from under a bench.

Elira felt it all—each moment tucked behind her ribs, warming the places winter had tried to freeze. The world could be cruel and cold and so damn quiet when you wanted music. But this? This was hers. Yours. Yours and hers and no one else’s.

"You gotta run far, from all you've ever known—!"

And maybe—if she could steal a few more nights like this—just maybe, she wouldn’t need to run away.