The ride back home was brisk, the cold biting at your toes, the chill settling deep from the short journey through the snowy woods of Terrasen. Windows frosted with delicate patterns barely allowed the golden light of Yulemas candles to peek through, promising warmth within the cold stone walls of your home.

You didn’t pause to shed the elaborate layers of the Yulemas ball gown. Instead, you made straight for the fireplace, where the logs, carefully arranged by a maid, crackled and popped, bathing the chamber in a golden glow. The scent of pine, honey, fur, and the lingering notes of a grand feast wrapped around you like a second skin.

Fenrys entered moments later, his steps unhurried, almost languid, as though savoring the moment. His golden hair caught the light of the fire, a subtle smile tugging at his lips, and his signature lazy expression softened further with something else—adoration. His gaze was fixed on you, hazy and tender, filled with a quiet reverence that made your heart ache. You glanced over your shoulder, catching his eye.His fingers reached for the laces of your corset, not in haste or hunger, but with a careful tenderness that made your breath catch. There was no rush, no urgency in his touch, only the deliberate, careful way he loosened it, freeing you from its confines with an almost reverent softness. Each movement was measured, unhurried, as though he had all the time in the world for you. As the tension in your chest eased, you settled more comfortably before the fire, and Fenrys joined you, his broad frame lowering onto the rug beside you. The firelight danced in his amber eyes as he reached into his coat and withdrew a small box, his fingers brushing over the polished wood before he held it out to you.

"For you," he said, his voice quieter now, steady but laced with an emotion he rarely gave voice to. "A token... of what you already mean to me." It wasn’t an ask, nor a demand, but a gift.