In the depths of the forest, where the towering trees swayed gently, their leaves whispering the brush noises against themselves, Mikael found himself standing outside a humble, small chapel, neglected in time.
A white archway adorned with wildflowers called Mikael to walk inside. As if, almost, a force tugged at his curiosity, compelling him to enter.
Approaching the chapel, Mikael could not help but wonder who would build a place of worship in the middle of the wilderness. Confused and slightly spaced out, he still heeded the unspoken call and walked inside.
With a loud creak, the wooden door swung open as Mikael nudged it, and the smell of aged wood and earth filled his nose immediately.
The chapel's interior revealed empty broken wooden benches lining the narrow aisle, some of which were missing, leaving gaps.
As he looked around, he noted that the sun had not just found its way through the windows but streamed down the large hole in the ceiling. It poured on the tufts of grass that sprouted from the cracks, giving it a shimer, in the aging concrete tiles.
Despite the place looking like it hadn't seen a living soul for years, an undeniable sense of not being alone enveloped Mikael. His footsteps echoed softly as he moved further inside, drawn to the altar.
It was then that he noticed the couple, bathed in the gentle radiance as they exchanged their vows.
Mikael's heart thundered in his chest as he laid eyes on the bride. Her lustrous locks of silver hair cascaded in loose waves down her back, and her height and facial features mirrored his twin sister, Mikayla.
The realization hit him like a crashing wave. Mikayla, who had vanished from his life for more than a month, stood before him, getting married. Countless questions surged within his mind, each one begging for answers.
As Mikael gazed at her gown with wide eyes, it triggered a sense of déjà vu in him. The design was unmistakable; it bore the same remembrance as the one he had worn on the day he married the Marquess.
Mikael stood in awe and continued to watch as Mikayla exchanged vows with a figure who, at first glance, seemed to be Marquess Nicolaus.
No, wait, was he now witnessing his sister and Nicolaus' vows? Had everything he had experienced been a mere dream?
Mikael found it increasingly difficult to distinguish between what was real and what was not. It just all became hazy.
However, as Mikael observed intently, the person who stood beside his twin actually did not resemble Marquess Nicolaus in the slightest.
This individual was slightly shorter, their long hair cascading down like a waterfall. But their face remained frustratingly obscured, preventing Mikael from identifying them.
Who was it? If only he could see their face.
Determined, Mikael felt an overbearing need to see the face of the person who had married his sister. He fought the force restraining him and began to march down the aisle.
With each step, his twin sister's voice, filled with concern, reached his ears. She asked him what was wrong, but he paid no heed, focusing on the other person at the altar. He reached out with trembling fingers, intent on turning them around to face him, to reveal their identity.
But just as the figure was about to turn, a voice from behind him shattered his intent.
"Wife, what are you doing?"
Mikael froze, his heart skipping a beat as he slowly pivoted to look over his shoulder. Nicolaus stood behind him, with his signature stoic expression firmly in place.
In the blink of an eye, the entire scene shifted dramatically. Mikael's surroundings whirled abruptly, the chapel's interior dissolving into thin air, transporting him to a room in the warm glow of flickering candles.
As Mikael adapted to the transformation of his surroundings, he discovered he was lying beneath Nicolaus, who was now above him, pinning him between his arms.
Nicolaus was shirtless, showing off his tough muscles and that perfectly sculpted body. The way the light and shadows were playing on his skin accentuated the contours of his figure, his chest and his abs, in an undeniably... tantalizing way.
Mikael's hand rested against Nicolaus' chest, his fingers lightly tracing the outlines with a subtle admission to his physique, which was nothing short of mesmerizing.
"Are you trying to entice me?" Nicolaus' voice rumbled deep like a growl, sending vibrations through Mikael's body. His gaze locked with Mikael's, and warned, "You better quit it, or I might just lose control."
Their eyes held each other captive, drawn together. The pull of their connection sent shudders down Mikael's spine, leaving him exhilarated.
"Hey, you are the instigator here," Nicolaus stated, his voice dripping with desire as he leaned in, eager to ravage Mikael's lips as he closed the minimal space between them.
The first brush of their lips sent sparks bursting, a cautious dip into the exploration of desire that had been bubbling beneath the surface for so long.
Their mouths came together in a passionate mess, both longing for the sweet taste. Mikael's lips parted beneath Nicolaus', like a silent plea and invitation for a sensuous invasion. A surging storm rushed within Mikael, sending his heart to the top of the waves as their tongues intertwined in a fiery tango.
But then, as abruptly as it had begun, Mikael was jolted awake from his vivid dream, his chest heaving. He was caught between his bed sheets, the leftovers of the dream still clinging to him like a haunting memory. His heart sprinted a mile, and his body felt strangely warm and aroused.
"I, I... I must have gone insane!"
Mikael muttered as he sat on the edge of his bed before burying his face in his hands, as if to shield himself from the raw intensity of the emotions that had swelled through him in the dream.
Taking a deep breath, he tried to regain his composure.
"It was just a dream," he told himself. It meant nothing. His fatigue from the long and tiring trip must have been playing tricks on his mind.
His head throbbed with an uncomfortable ache, making him wince as his eyes squinted against the sudden brightness. When he adjusted to the light, his gaze swept across the room, taking in the luxury decor surrounding him.
The bed he lay on, its frame, was made out of gold. The sheets were made of the best silk, so soft to the touch that they felt like a caress against his skin. Beneath him, the mattress felt like a fluffy cloud of relaxation, cradling him gently.
Above, the chandelier dangled from the ceiling, its crystal facet catching the sunlight and scattering it into prismatic rainbows that reached the room's walls.
His eyes widened as he took in more details. One portrait, with a frame adorned with gold, housed a painting of an oasis in a desert.
Sitting on a two-drawer locking cabinet in one corner of the room was a golden statue of a miniature ship, which seemed frozen in time as it sailed through tumultuous waves in a sea of pure gold.
Mikael's breath was caught in his throat as he whispered to himself, "What… What is this?"