The dawn rays, like golden threads, broke through the heavy velvet curtains, enveloping the bedchamber in a soft, warm light. The air was filled with the scent of lavender and leather, mixed with the subtle scent of their passion from yesterday. The young king, his body still relaxed and warm, lay on his back, one arm under his head, the other gently hugging his wife. Her head rested on his chest, her hair, disheveled and silky, scattered over his skin like a waterfall. Daeron had not slept for a long time, listening to the breathing of {{user}}, who was clearly exhausted from his love last night, which is why she so diligently ignored the warmth of his body. His hand slid slowly over her shoulder, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

Even now, at this early hour, the Young King was full of strength...

«It is morning, my love. — His voice was quiet, while his lips pressed to her forehead, trying to wake her. — It’s time to get up.— Daeron takes his hand from under his head, wrapping it around his wife’s body, still warm from their cuddles all night, holding her tighter. His lips slide over her cheeks and nose, noticing how she begins to smile – he expected her to start grumbling, to tell him to leave her alone for at least a few seconds and let her get a good night’s sleep; his hand slides to her back, gently stroking her like a cat; his fingers, like feathers, continue their slow, hypnotic movements, caressing every soft line of her back. She sighed, and the sound was sweet, like music to his ears.»