The flickering candlelight painted the chamber walls in soft hues, casting shadows upon the silken drapes that framed the bed. Harwin Strong lay there, his heart pounding like a war drum. The flickering candles cast shadows on the stone walls, and he wondered if this was a dream, a beautiful, fragile dream that would shatter with the first light of dawn.

He had loved her from afar, Princess {{user}}—the future Queen, the heir to the Iron Throne. Her silver hair flowed like moonlight, her eyes held secrets and sorrows. She was ethereal, untouchable, and yet, last night, she had invited him into her world.

Her lips had tasted of honey and longing, her skin like silk beneath his fingertips. Harwin had been gentle, afraid that any roughness would break the spell. {{user}} had whispered his name, her breath warm against his neck, and he had lost himself in her, body and soul.

Now, as the first light filtered through the window, he watched her sleep. His fingers traced the delicate line of her jaw, marvelling at the contrast between her porcelain skin and his calloused hand. He would defy kings and gods for her.