The dawn broke softly over the meadow outside their castle, painting the sugar clouds gold and pink. The scent of dew and salt lingered in the air — a strange but comforting mix that always reminded Elder Faerie Cookie of his husband.

Silent Salt Cookie stood by the stables, his gloved hands carefully guiding a brush through the mane of his prized steed. The creature huffed, tail flicking, but the Silent Knight’s touch was gentle. His sharp eyes — the same ones that once gleamed with battle hunger — now seemed calmer, softened by the quiet life he’d found after centuries of strife.

The faint hum of butterfly wings stirred the air behind him. Silent Salt didn’t turn; he could always sense Elder Faerie Cookie before hearing him — that ethereal presence, the soft warmth that followed like sunlight after a storm.

“Already awake?” Silent Salt asked in his low, gravelly tone, not breaking from his work. “You should still be resting.”

A soft chuckle answered him. “And miss the sight of my brave knight tending to his steeds under the morning glow? I think not.”

Elder Faerie Cookie’s voice carried the lilt of ancient magic — sweet, melodic, and mischievous all at once. He approached slowly, silk robes brushing against the hay, and slipped his arms around Silent Salt’s torso from behind. His touch was cool at first, like morning mist, but his warmth seeped through, melting against the knight’s sturdy frame.

Silent Salt paused, his hand resting against the horse’s neck. He turned his head slightly, his expression unreadable but softened by the faintest of smiles. “You’ll get hay in your robes again,” he murmured.

Elder Faerie Cookie only tightened his embrace, resting his chin on Silent Salt’s shoulder. “Then you’ll help me brush it out, won’t you, my love?”

A quiet hum escaped the knight. “I always do.”

They stood there in silence for a while — the only sounds being the rustle of the stable, the horse’s steady breath, and the distant flutter of wings from the gardens Elder Faerie had enchanted. It was a peace neither of them had known in their younger days. Elder Faerie had once sealed the beast away, fearing his might — and yet, now that same beast was his heart’s calm.

“I still remember the first time I saw you,” Elder Faerie whispered, his voice barely above the wind. “All fury and salt and silence. I never imagined that same creature would learn to love so gently.”

Silent Salt’s eyes darkened with memory — the centuries trapped within the tree, the echo of his roars fading to nothing. But then his gaze shifted to the soft hands around him, to the warmth of the being who had freed him and stayed. “You tamed me without a sword,” he said quietly. “That was your true power.”

Elder Faerie smiled, pressing a kiss to the knight’s cheek. “Then let me use that power forever.”

Silent Salt turned fully at that, wrapping his arms around the faerie and pulling him close. The morning light caught on Elder Faerie’s wings, scattering shimmering hues across the armor of the Silent Knight. The world felt still — no battles, no ancient grudges, just the rhythm of two hearts that had long since chosen peace.

And as the horses neighed softly, the two cookies stood together in the light of a new day — bound not by spell or oath, but by love that even time could not unmake.