The morning sun spilled through the castle windows, warm gold rippling across the silken sheets tangled around them. The scent of rose petals lingered in the air — remnants from last night’s laughter when she’d thrown them at him in mock victory during their playful chaos. Vlad lay beside her, watching her eyelashes flutter against her cheek as she stirred awake. For a man who had faced blood and war, he had never known something as terrifying — or as holy — as this quiet peace.
“Good morning, my heart,” he murmured, his voice rough with sleep. Her lips curved, eyes still closed. “You were watching me again.”
He smiled faintly. “If heaven exists, surely it must look like this.” She laughed softly, rolling to face him, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “Flattery before breakfast?”
“I would starve before I’d stop worshiping you,” he said simply, and she believed him.
Later, they ate together by the window overlooking the valley — ripe fruit, sweet bread, and the faint hum of distant bells. She leaned on his shoulder, tracing her finger over the veins of his hand. “You’ll leave soon,” she whispered. “The war calls you again.”
He turned his palm over, catching her hand in his. “And you think I wish to answer?” His eyes, that dark amber of sunlight through wine, softened. “I would trade every victory for one lifetime of waking beside you.”
They spent the afternoon in their quarters — her laughter ringing through the air as he missed his mark during their makeshift target practice. “You’re losing your touch, my lord,” she teased.
He arched an eyebrow, mock-offended. “Perhaps I am distracted.”
“Oh?”
He stepped closer, lowering the arquebus, his voice dipping into a whisper as he leaned in. “You stand before me in that dress, and I’m expected to aim straight?”
Her laughter broke through the air, echoing through the ivy-covered walls, and he joined in — the kind of unguarded joy that made time itself pause.
When the clouds rolled in and the rain began to fall, they didn’t run. They stood there, soaked and breathless, his cloak wrapped around them both. She lifted her face toward him, raindrops trembling on her lashes. “Do you ever think,” she murmured, “that love like this can last forever?”
He brushed his thumb across her lips. “No,” he whispered. “But if it ends, I’ll make forever wait for us.”
As the candles burned low that night, he held her close beneath the crimson canopy of their bed. The world outside could crumble, kingdoms could fall — but in that small, golden silence, they were infinite. The wind carried the faint hum of the church choir from the village below, and Vlad breathed against her skin, voice barely more than a vow:
“If God himself were to take you from me, I would find you again. In this life, or the next.”