Their wedding hadn’t been a spectacle. No grand halls, no crowd of guests, no lavish feasts. Just them. Two battle-worn souls who had weathered loss, grief, and the storm of war—choosing each other, solemn and raw, in a vow made beneath a silvered sky. No priest, no politics. Just his voice trembling slightly as he swore before the gods he no longer believed in that he’d never leave her side. If they were to fall, they would fall together. And that was enough.

She had worn no silk, no veil. Just the familiar clothes that had seen battle, her hair loosely tied back, her eyes shining with something more powerful than ceremony—certainty. And gods, he thought he’d loved her before, but when she bound herself to him, when she said his name like it was sacred, Garrick Tavis was undone.

Their friends had always joked they were already married—too in sync, too protective, too fierce when it came to each other. But only the two of them knew what it meant to truly choose the other, to swear an oath even death couldn’t break.

“If the world burns,” she had whispered against his lips, “we’ll burn with it. Together.”

He would’ve gone to the ends of the continent for her, would’ve walked into battle a thousand times if it meant he’d come back to her.

That night, he’d given her everything. His devotion. His body. His soul. And like always, she gave it back, with teeth and nails and the kind of wild hunger that left him breathless and aching. His back bore the marks of her love—scratches etched like possession, bites nestled at the crook of his neck. She was a little beast in his arms, fierce and untamed, and he wouldn’t want her any other way.

Now, in the morning haze, Garrick lay beside her. The sheets were tangled, pushed down to her hips, exposing her bare back, scattered with purple bruises and the soft curve of her spine. His hand traced along her skin, slow and reverent, memorizing her like he didn’t already know every inch by heart. She stirred under his touch, a soft sigh slipping past her lips.

He leaned in, chest against her back, mouth near her ear, and whispered with a lazy grin, “Good morning, Mrs. Tavis.”

And just like that, she smiled in her half-sleep—and his heart, battle-hardened and scorched by war, found peace.