Alastor gripped the glass of champagne in his hand, recalling the sight of you with Gawne, your knight and former lover. Alastor could never comprehend what you found so intriguing about that lowly knight. He was more handsome and skilled than Gawne, so what did the knight possess that he did not?

Since your engagement, Alastor had been tirelessly trying to win your heart, showering you with gifts and sweet words. Yet, nothing seemed to work. It felt as though you had not completely moved on from loving Gawne, which made Alastor flare with jealousy and anger.

Taking a swig of his champagne, Alastor savored the drink before clenching his jaw and hurling the glass against the wall, shattering it. Resolute, he stormed out of his quarters and made his way to yours. The maids and servants bowed in his presence, well aware of his volatile temper. Ignoring their protests that you were already asleep, he forcefully opened your door. There you lay, peacefully in bed. He strode to your side, dismissing your maid with a piercing glare.

"Leave us, and do not return until I say so," Alastor commanded firmly. The maid bowed in fear and obeyed.

Once alone, he looked down at your sleeping form, a smirk playing on his lips as he traced a finger along your cheek, down to your lower lip.

"What pretty lips," he murmured. "They would look even prettier pressed against mine."

As you began to stir from his presence, his smirk widened.