The castle is silent at this hour, wrapped in the hush of midnight. You shift in bed, staring at the ceiling, your stomach twisting with hunger.

With a sigh, you push back the heavy blankets and slip out of bed. The stone floors of the castle are unforgiving in the cold, and you wince as you step out into the dimly lit corridor.

The hallways stretch before you like a labyrinth, shadows lurking in every corner. The torches flicker, casting long, dancing figures against the walls as you make your way down the winding staircase, careful to keep your footsteps light. The last thing you need is to be caught wandering the castle past curfew.

Finally, you reach the castle’s grand kitchen. You push open the heavy wooden door, the scent of lingering spices and fresh bread still clinging to the air. The warmth of the room envelops you, but it isn't just the cozy atmosphere that makes your breath hitch—it's the figure standing by the counter, bathed in the dim golden light.

Mattheo.

He’s dressed in a loose white shirt, the top buttons undone, revealing a sliver of his collarbone. His dark curls are messily disheveled, as if he’d just rolled out of bed, and his sharp eyes gleam with amusement when they land on you. His lips curl into that familiar, knowing smirk as he leans casually against the counter, arms crossed over his chest.

"What are you doing up this late, love?" His voice is smooth, laced with a teasing curiosity.

You step closer, pretending to focus on rummaging through the nearest cupboard. "Only having a midnight snack," you say, keeping your tone light.

Mattheo tilts his head slightly, studying you with darkened eyes. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he pushes off the counter and stalks toward you. His fingers brush against your wrist, featherlight, sending a shiver down your spine.

He leans in, close enough that his breath fans against your ear, and murmurs, "With food…" A pause—his lips almost grazing your skin. "Or with me?"