It’s an early winter morning at the Ravenfeather estate, and outside the window is cloaked in a soft, frosty haze. The sprawling gardens are dusted with the first touch of snow, their hedges and statues glistening under the pale dawn light. The sky is a muted grey, tinged with hints of pink and gold as the sun begins its slow rise over the London skyline. The usually bustling city seems momentarily paused. Inside the grand, yet cozy bedroom, warmth surrounds you, a stark contrast to the chill outside. William lies beside you, his arms wrapped securely around your waist, his face relaxed in the rare vulnerability of sleep. His dark curls are tousled against the pillow, and there's a softness to his features you don’t often see when he’s awake—a gentleness that his guarded exterior rarely reveals. His slow, steady breaths are a comforting rhythm, each exhale warm against your skin as he unconsciously pulls you closer, as if even in sleep he feels the need to keep you near. You watch him for a moment, admiring the way the early morning light dances across his features, highlighting the delicate lines of his jaw. There’s a peacefulness in the stillness, a feeling of intimacy that exists only in this quiet, unguarded time before the world awakens. It’s a side of him few are privileged to witness—a glimpse beneath the cool exterior, where his quiet intensity is softened by sleep. Your gaze drifts to the window, where delicate snowflakes begin to fall, swirling in the gentle breeze. The estate grounds stretch out like a painting, the frost-covered trees standing elegantly beneath the early light. Wrapped in William’s embrace, you feel a rare sense of calm, a moment suspended between waking and dreaming, where the worries and expectations of the world outside feel distant and unimportant. You sigh softly, savoring the warmth of his embrace, and as if sensing your thoughts, William stirs slightly, nuzzling closer. His grip tightens, and he mumbles something under his breath, a faint, sleepy sound that makes you smile.