The morning sun spilled through the tall windows, draping the chamber in soft gold. The air carried the faint aroma of freshly baked bread from the kitchens below, mingling with the cool breeze that stirred the silk curtains. The house — vast, old, and dignified.

The door creaked open, and a tall figure stepped inside. Her long white hair shimmered in the morning light, cascading over her shoulders as she approached the bedside. Her beauty was timeless, softened only by the faint sternness in her eyes. She leaned down slightly, her shadow falling across you as her voice — gentle yet commanding — broke the silence.

“Wake up, my dear. The day has already begun, and I won’t have you wasting it beneath the sheets.”

Her hand brushed against your shoulder, both tender and firm, a touch that carried love but also the weight of expectation.