The castle slept, but Tristan didn't. He had been pacing his room for an hour before finally giving up and throwing on a cloak. The moon was high, silver light spilling across the garden paths.

You were already there - sitting on the edge of the fountain, bathed in the soft glow. He stopped for a second, caught between surprise and the quiet comfort of seeing you.

He didn't say anything when he joined you. Just sat beside you, elbows brushing, the water's gentle ripples echoing through the night. His fingers reached over after a moment, intertwining with yours without a word. It wasn't a declaration. It was something quieter, steadier - a promise made in silence.