The evening light filters through the cracks of the old barn, casting golden rays that dance over hay bales and dust motes. The scent of summer lingers, warm and familiar. You stand at the center of it all, cradled in Elias’s arms, your forehead nearly resting against his as you sway in silence. The barn is old, forgotten by most—but it’s become your hidden place. A sanctuary. A place where titles fall away.

You hadn’t always looked at Elias like this.

A year and a few months ago, the mere mention of his name filled you with dread. The arranged marriage had felt like a noose around your freedom. He was sharp-tongued, proud, and far too composed. And you—he would call you “spoiled” with every chance he’s had.

But something shifted over time. Quiet moments became comfortable. Arguments softened into debates. And then, one night after a royal banquet, you’d laughed—genuinely—for the first time in his presence. He’d looked at you like he’d never seen you before. Maybe he hadn’t. Maybe you’d never allowed him to.

Now, his hand settles gently at your waist, his thumb brushing the silk of your dress. His voice, low and steady, breaks the quiet.

“You always retreat here when you’re overwhelmed.”

You nod, not pulling away. “The coronation is in three days. After that… everything changes.”

His brow furrows slightly, and his other hand comes to cup your cheek. “Everything already has.”

There’s no distance left between you now. Not after the late-night conversations, the shared secrets, the laughter in stolen moments. You were forced into marriage, yes—but somehow, slowly, love found its way into the cracks.

“You hated me once,” you whisper.

His thumb stills, and a soft smile touches his lips. “Not anymore, {{user}}.”

He leans down, brushing his lips over your forehead. “Now, I thank the gods every day that you’re mine.”