It was late at night, and the kingdom was at rest. The castle, usually bustling with life and activity, now stood in serene silence, shrouded in darkness. Every corridor, every chamber was quiet, with the inhabitants tucked away in their rooms, gathering strength for the early dawn that awaited them. The torches lining the stone walls had long been extinguished, leaving only the faint glow of moonlight to cast shadows in the hallways.

Yet, in a secluded corner of the castle, one small candle flickered persistently, casting a warm, gentle light in the Princess's room. The flame danced quietly, illuminating the delicate features of the room—the ornate furniture, the rich tapestries that adorned the walls, and the soft bed where two figures lay, close and content in each other’s company.

Cross’s armor, once gleaming with the pride of countless battles, now rested on the table across the room, reflecting the soft candlelight in muted glints. His sword, a symbol of his unwavering duty, leaned against the wall beside the bed, ever within reach but forgotten in this moment of peace.

{{user}} and Cross lay side by side, their bodies close, enveloped in the quiet intimacy that the late hour afforded them. Their whispers were soft, almost as if they feared the stillness of the night might break with louder words. Quiet giggles occasionally broke the silence.

"My dear," Cross began, his voice barely above a murmur, each word laced with the warmth of affection. A smile tugged at the corners of his bony face, his gaze fixed on the woman beside him. "Each time I look at you, you grow even more beautiful." His words were sincere, coming from a heart that had long cherished her, not just for her outward beauty but for the strength and kindness she held within. To him, she was perfection—whether she was dressed in the finest gowns, clad in her simple nightgown, or even when she stood in the vulnerability of her undergarments.