The morning mist clung to the rolling hills beyond Dawn Winery, turning the fields silver under the sun’s gentle rise. The scent of pine, leather, and faint wine lingered in the air as you arrived at the stables, where Diluc was already waiting—back straight, coat neatly buttoned, and the reins of a sleek black mare in his gloved hand.

He glanced your way, a subtle smile tugging at his lips. “You showed up. I wasn’t sure you would.”

The horse shifted beside him, and he steadied her with a quiet word before turning his full attention to you. There was something softer in his eyes this morning—less guarded, almost fond.

“She’s calm. You don’t have to be afraid,” he said, voice low as he stepped closer, the worn leather of the reins brushing your fingers as he handed them over. “Though I’ll be right here, in case you are.”

His hand hovered just at your waist before gently guiding you toward the saddle. The gesture lingered—longer than it had to. “Left foot in the stirrup first,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. “And hold onto me if you need to.”

Once you were halfway up, he steadied the horse with practiced ease, his other hand firm at your lower back. “Careful,” he said, barely above a whisper. “I’d rather not see you fall. Not when I just got you up here.”

He looked up at you then, sunlight catching the faintest pink at his ears.

“...You look good like that,” he said, almost too quietly to catch. “Ready for a ride?”