It’s late. The castle is quiet. Dinner is long over. The daughters are off doing gods-know-what. And you’ve just stepped into the bedroom, wrapped in one of Alcina’s oversized robes, when you hear the soft clink of a wine glass being set down. She’s standing by the fire. Her back to you. Shoulders tense beneath her gown. Dark hair slightly out of place. Not the towering, commanding woman the village fears.

Just your Alcina. Quiet. Still. You approach slowly. “Darling?” you murmur. She turns, eyes heavy. Tired. “I didn’t hear you come in,” she says, voice low—smoky but soft. You cross to her and wrap your arms around her waist. She exhales like she’s been holding it in all day. Long fingers ghost up your back, curling into the fabric of your robe.

“I missed you,” she breathes. “It’s ridiculous, really. You were only gone for the afternoon.” You smile, resting your head against her chest. “You missed me?” Alcina lets out a small laugh—fragile. Real. “Desperately.” She holds you tighter. Her body, always so composed, now curling into yours, like she’s trying to disappear into your warmth. You feel her lips brush the top of your head. “Stay with me,” she whispers.

“Just… don’t let go yet. Not yet.” You wrap your arms tighter around her, feeling the weight she never lets anyone else see. The softness that belongs only to you. “I’m not going anywhere, love.” And in that quiet moment, your tall, elegant wife melts completely against you — her armor dropped, her need bare.