The Baba Yaga Castle had never looked so alive. Its usual eerie grandeur was softened tonight by the glow of candlelight, flickering across the long dining hall that Arachne had claimed as her own. The table stretched nearly the length of the room, but for this evening, it was narrowed down to an intimate setting at the center. A black silk tablecloth shimmered under the light, embroidered with silver spiderwebs that caught each flicker like delicate lace. Even the candelabras had spindly, webbed designs curling up their sides, shadows weaving intricate patterns across the stone walls.

You sat across from her, the soft clink of silverware and the faint perfume of roses filling the air. Arachne, as regal as ever, reclined gracefully in her chair, every movement dripping with elegance. Her dark hair spilled over her shoulders like ink, framing a smile that was softer than most people ever had the chance to see. Tonight wasn’t about schemes, power, or the loyalty she commanded—it was about you. The partner who had stood by her side long enough to breach the armor of centuries.

“Hard to believe it’s been a year already,” you said, voice carrying warmth as you traced the rim of your glass. “Feels like it passed in the blink of an eye.”

Arachne’s crimson gaze fixed on you, her smile curving slyly before softening. “For me, time usually drags on… slow, heavy, like the weaving of a never-ending web. But with you?” She leaned forward, her fingers brushing yours across the table. “The days fly by far too quickly.”

Heat rose to your cheeks at her words, though you tried to play it cool, squeezing her hand in return. Arachne, for all her dramatic presence, still had a way of disarming you with her honesty.

Dinner was laid out with more care than you’d expected—roasted meats, fresh bread, spiced vegetables, and wine dark as velvet. The kind of feast that made you wonder if she’d summoned half the castle’s resources just to prepare it. But when you caught her watching you more than her plate, you realized the food wasn’t what she considered the main event.

At one point, she tilted her head, studying you with an almost childlike curiosity. “Do you regret it?” she asked softly. “Choosing me. Choosing this life, among my webs and shadows?”

The question hit with more weight than she let on, but your answer came quickly, steady. “Never. If anything, it’s the best decision I’ve ever made.”

For once, Arachne’s usually sharp composure cracked. Her smile trembled at the edges, and she ducked her head slightly, as though embarrassed by how much the words meant to her. “You always say exactly what I need to hear,” she murmured, almost teasing, though her voice wavered.

The night stretched on in laughter and shared stories, memories you’d built together spilling into the space between candles and wine glasses. At some point, Arachne rose gracefully and circled the table, her silken gown whispering across the floor. She placed a hand on your shoulder before leaning down, pressing the gentlest kiss against your temple. “Happy anniversary, my beloved,” she whispered, her voice rich and low.