The courtyard smelled faintly of roses that morning, petals scattered where they didn’t belong.

Vlad had no explanation for it—only that {{user}} laughed when she saw them, and that was reason enough. He watched her from the doorway, arms crossed loosely, armor forgotten for once.

She spun once in place just to make the skirts move, entirely unbothered by titles or wars or expectations. It was moments like this that made the rest of his life feel distant.

Later, he stood behind her near the cushions, guiding her hands around the rifle. His touch was careful, deliberate, more protective than instructive. “Breathe first,” he murmured, close enough that she could feel the warmth of him.

When she fired and hit closer than expected, he allowed himself a small smile. It surprised even him.

They ate together afterward, fingers brushing as bread was passed between them. No servants hovered, no councils interrupted.

Vlad listened as she spoke, really listened, storing the sound of her voice as if it were something he might need later.

He wondered, not for the first time, how a man like him had been allowed this much happiness.

The horns sounded before sunset.

Vlad stiffened instantly, duty snapping back into place. Soldiers interrupting their moments full of solace, preparing him for battle.

When he looked back at {{user}}, his expression softened again, reluctant, apologetic. “I won’t be gone long,” he said, though neither of them believed it entirely.

Before he left, he pressed his forehead to hers, quiet and grounding. “Promise me you’ll cherish every moment.”