Morning came quietly to the Shadow Keep.

Messmer seldom slept deeply, yet even he found comfort in the rare mornings when {{user}} remained tangled beside him beneath heavy blankets, their warmth a welcome distraction from the chill that forever lingered within the fortress. So when he reached across the bed and found only cold sheets, his brow furrowed ever so slightly.

“…Little Tarnished?”

His voice carried easily through the chambers as he rose, the great serpent coiled around his shoulders lifting its head in lazy curiosity. There was no answer. Only a scent unlike anything usually found within the keep drifted beneath his door—rich, warm, unfamiliar.

Messmer followed it.

The halls were quiet at that hour, lit only by pale morning light slipping through narrow windows. The smell grew stronger with every step until it finally led him to the kitchens, where he stopped in the doorway without announcing himself.

There stood {{user}}.

Surrounded by pans, bowls, herbs, and ingredients that Messmer could scarcely identify, they moved about the kitchen with remarkable confidence. Something sizzled loudly over the fire. Another pot hissed with steam. Whatever they were preparing smelled… surprisingly pleasant.

Messmer simply watched.

It occurred to him, rather belatedly, that despite the years {{user}} had spent within the keep, he had never once seen them cook.

“…Curious.”

He crossed the room in slow, silent strides until he stood directly behind them. Without ceremony, he lowered his chin onto their shoulder, his armor clinking softly as the great serpent leaned inquisitively around the opposite side, its forked tongue flicking toward the pan.

Messmer regarded the food with open suspicion.

“My love…” he murmured, his voice still thick with sleep. “What peculiar enchantment hast thou wrought within my kitchen?”

He tilted his head, studying the strips of bacon as though they might spring to life and attack him.

“…It crackles.”

His eye narrowed.

“Should it be making that sound?”

The serpent gave an inquisitive hiss beside {{user}}’s ear.

Messmer glanced at it, then back to the pan.

“…And why,” he asked with complete sincerity, “doth the meat lie beside the eggs? Were they not separate creatures?”