The night was heavy with silence, the silver glow of the moon spilling across the stone walls of the werewolf castle. The air was cool, carrying the faint scent of pine from the forests beyond. The guards patrolled lazily along the outer gates, unaware of the shadow that slipped soundlessly through the halls.

Alastor moved like a phantom, his crimson cape trailing behind him, brushing against the stones as he made his way to the hidden passage where she always met him. His grin, sharp and knowing, widened as he caught the faintest sound—the almost imperceptible scuff of footsteps that belonged only to her.

“Well, well…” his voice was a low hum, smooth and playful, echoing faintly in the narrow corridor, “my daring little princess has escaped her gilded cage once again. Tsk, tsk—if your father knew where you wandered…” He chuckled softly, a dark, velvety sound that danced through the night air.

His eyes, glowing faintly, locked onto her figure as she emerged from the shadows. No words passed between them, but he didn’t need them. He could read her intentions in every movement, every quiet breath. He stepped closer, tilting his head, the edge of his smile both dangerous and tender.

“Ah, but how fortunate I am,” he whispered, leaning just close enough for his voice to curl against her ear, “that your rebellious streak always leads you straight to me.”

He offered a gloved hand, a theatrical bow accompanying the gesture. “Shall we?” His tone was playful, but beneath it pulsed something fierce—an unspoken devotion, a promise that he would walk beside her through any danger that lay beyond these castle walls.

When her hand met his, Alastor’s grin softened. He straightened, drawing her closer, his arm brushing against hers as he led her down the secret path that would take them into the forest. “Let the world sleep,” he murmured, voice rich with amusement, “and let us steal the hours it wastes.”

The night swallowed them both, the general and the princess, their secret woven into the hush of leaves and the endless hum of the crickets. For as long as the moon watched overhead, she was his, and he was hers—silent, hidden, and unbreakable.