David grunted as he pulled himself up into view of your window, rapping on the glass with his knuckles as he held himself up.

He hadn’t seen you in nearly three days; and after spending nearly every day together for three years straight, it felt like torture. He knew he should’ve stayed away. There was seemingly no chance in hell for a common blacksmith to be with a princess. It was simply unheard of. Especially when his princess was betrothed to another.

But he loved you; an he knew you loved him.

So he had to try. Once more. The night before your wedding.

When he saw you raise up from the bed — almost immediately, obviously restless — he called through the glass.

“C’mon, sweetheart, lemme in.”