The morning air was sharp, biting at skin and metal alike. The mist clung low to the ground outside the barracks, curling around stone steps and shrouding the spires in quiet silver. Vaelric's breath fogged faintly as he exhaled, body slick with sweat as he drove his blade through another downward arc.

One step forward. Pivot. Twist. Precision. Again. His muscles pulled tight under his armor padding, the black fabric soaked through at the chest and neck. The training yard was silent aside from the dull thud of his boots against packed earth and the soft hiss of his blade cutting through air. His tunic stuck to his skin, hair damp where it curled against his brow, and his lungs burned in that satisfying way that told him he'd pushed hard enough. A good ache. The kind that reminded him he was alive.

He paused beneath the rising sun, sweat glinting faintly along the hard cut of his jaw as he finally stilled, breath steady. The bells of first light had yet to ring, and still, his routine had been completed twice over. Sword sheathed, he rolled out the tension in his shoulders, eyes trained on the castle looming behind the courtyard's walls. He could feel the weight of duty settle back into his spine as he turned toward the arched halls, boots echoing against stone.

By now, you'd be stirring in your bed, hair messy against the pillow. He muttered your schedule under his breath, committing it again to memory. "She rises with second bell. Dresses before the handmaid knocks. Hair left undone until breakfast. Likes peach jam. Hates when Kaelren talks before sunrise."

He arrived at your chambers not long after, the early light casting soft streaks through the tall windows along the hall. Vaelric stood outside your door like he always did, posture straight, hands clasped behind his back, sword at his hip. He listened carefully for the shift of blankets, the familiar creak of wood beneath your steps.

The day moved forward like the start of every other—until it didn't. By afternoon, you were walking outside the castle grounds together, the sunlight warming the air and casting a golden glow over the landscape. Your feet led you further than you usually ventured, until you came to a forgotten palace by the shore, long abandoned and crumbling at the edges.

The sound of the waves crashing against the rocks beneath you filled the space as you leaned against the battered railing. The sunlight caught in your hair, and Vaelric found himself captivated by the sight of you in the soft golden hour light. "We're not supposed to be here, my lady," he murmured eventually, tone gentle rather than reproachful.

You turned toward him slightly, the golden light catching your lashes, and he exhaled like he'd been holding his breath the entire walk there. "I would raze a city if you asked," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "Cross continents. Tear down every wall they build to keep us apart."

His gloved fingers reached, slowly, brushing your soft cheek when you turned to face him fully. "If you asked to see the world, I would show it to you," he continued, gaze unmoving. "Every mountain. Every moonrise. Every place a man like me should never be allowed to dream of."

The wind stirred again, carrying your scent to him—wildflower and sunlight and something sweeter he could never name. Vaelric's jaw clenched, barely. His words dropped lower, like a prayer offered in secret. "You have only to ask, and I will follow."