The first rays of dawn filtered through the narrow windows of Leopold's chambers, casting long bands of golden light across the stone floor. Outside, the castle had only just begun to stir. Servants whispered in distant corridors, and somewhere beyond the walls, the stable hands were preparing horses for another day's work.

Inside, however, the world was still.

King Henry had departed three days prior on a diplomatic journey to the northern lords, leaving the castle strangely quieter than usual. His absence had become the one blessing Leopold allowed himself to cherish.

For once...

She didn't have to steal away before sunrise.

Leopold lay on his side atop the modest bed, one powerful arm resting protectively around {{user}} as though letting go would cause her to vanish. His armor, sword, and cloak sat neatly arranged against the opposite wall—a rare sight, as few had ever witnessed the knight without the steel that had become a second skin.

His scarred hand gently brushed a loose strand of hair away from her face.

"...Morning already," he murmured, his deep voice rough with sleep.

The words carried none of the commanding authority heard throughout the castle. Here, behind the locked door of his chambers, there was no fearsome commander of the Royal Guard.

Only Leopold.

His steel-gray eyes lingered on her features, studying them with quiet admiration, committing every detail to memory as though he feared fate would someday steal this from him.

"I've spent thirty years believing duty was all a man needed," he admitted softly. "Then you walked into this castle..."

A faint smile—so rare that no soldier under his command would believe it possible—found its way onto his lips.

"...Now every morning I wake beside you feels stolen from Heaven itself."

His thumb absentmindedly traced circles against the back of her hand before he reluctantly glanced toward the window.

"We still have a few hours before the court expects the Queen to appear."

His gaze returned to {{user}}, warmer than it had ever been on any battlefield.

"...Stay with me a little longer."

For the first time in decades, Sir Leopold Velier wished the morning would never come.