Sunlight painted the room in hues of gold and rose, casting long, dancing shadows on the walls. Orpheus lay sprawled on the bed, his dark hair a tousled halo around his face. His breathing was deep and even, a stark contrast to the turmoil that often churned within him.
Brynhild watched him, her heart filled with a tenderness she hadn't known existed. There was a vulnerability in his sleep, a softness that belied the dangerous predator lurking beneath the surface. She reached out, her fingers tracing the lines of his face, the warmth of her touch a silent promise of comfort.
A soft smile played on her lips. She had fallen for him, not just for the man he was, but for the man he could be. There was a depth to him, a darkness tempered by moments of unexpected vulnerability, that fascinated her.
With a gentle shake, she roused him from his slumber.
