As life went on outside with the gossiping guards and maids, the newlywed continued dining for breakfast.
"This is cold," Salviana said in a distracted tone, sipping the contents of the cup and blinking at the unexpected chill.
Alaric smirked at her reaction. "I feel cold, heat, disgust… and anger," he said matter-of-factly, his voice low and almost teasing.
Salviana giggled again, the tension between them lifting slightly. She reached for a bowl of fruit, and he watched as she selected one, biting into it with relish. His eyes followed every movement, drawn to the way she savored the taste.
"Where do you go at night?" she asked after a moment, her voice soft but laced with curiosity.
His gaze flickered, the question catching him off guard. He hadn't expected her to ask about that. There was no accusation in her tone, only genuine interest.
"I handle matters," he replied, keeping his voice calm. "Mostly things that shouldn't concern you."
"But I am concerned," she pressed gently, leaning forward, her green eyes searching his. "You disappear, and I wonder… if you're okay. If you're safe."
Something tugged at his chest, an unfamiliar warmth in her words. She cared about him. It was a foreign feeling, but it settled over him like a soft, unfamiliar comfort.
"You needn't worry about me," he said, though the sincerity in his voice surprised even him. He didn't want her to worry.
The moment lingered between them before Salviana broke the silence with a teasing yet seriously curious question. "Do vampires actually sleep in coffins, or is that just a myth?"
Alaric chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. "I think that's something the older vampires did. I've never been one for it. Maybe I'm not traditional enough for that."
Salviana's lips curled into a smile. "I suppose you're not the typical vampire," she said thoughtfully.
Alaric nodded before she asked another, "How old are you really?"
"I was born here," he stated quietly, "in this castle. My mother was the king's sister. I suppose, for a vampire, I'm still quite young."
Her eyes softened. "So, you still have centuries ahead of you."
There was a hint of sadness in her voice that didn't go unnoticed. Alaric drew in a deep breath, his thoughts momentarily lost. Immortality—something he had never questioned but something that clearly weighed on her mind.
"How do you feel about living forever?" she whispered, her curiosity slipping through again. "Do you think it will ever get… tiring?"
Alaric smiled faintly, reaching out to touch her hand. "Questions are over for today," he said with a gentle laugh, dodging the heaviness of the topic.
She groaned in mock frustration, letting her hair fall over her face. But her playful pout quickly shifted into a soft smile as she watched him watch her.
Alaric, noticing her wonderful appetite, pushed his plate toward her. "Here, take this. You enjoy it more than I can ever."
"No, I'm full," she replied, washing her hands clean of the meal.
"Even this?" he asked, pointing to a dish she had eaten with particular relish earlier. "You had it by the bedside last night."
She gave him a playful glare before picking up a delicate pink pastry. "I could always make room for more of these," she said with a wink. "They're as soft as tulips."
Alaric hummed in approval, satisfied as she bit into it.
Alaric watched as Salviana finished her meal, a comfortable silence settling between them. The way she handled herself, her mannerisms, her soft smiles—it was all becoming oddly familiar to him, yet still strange.
She was unlike anyone he had known, unafraid to meet his gaze, to ask him questions others wouldn't dare to. It unsettled and intrigued him all at once.
As they both rose from the table, she moved to help him with his coat. It was a simple gesture, yet it felt intimate.
'Oh' he thought.
Her hands brushed against his arms as she held the fabric out for him, and he stood still, allowing her to drape it over his shoulders. The touch sent a quiet shiver through him, something he didn't fully understand.
Salviana, too, seemed to notice the charged air between them. Her cheeks flushed as she adjusted the collar of his coat, her fingertips lingering a moment longer than necessary on his chest.
She looked up, her eyes meeting his with a mixture of shyness and something deeper.
"You don't have to do this, you know," Alaric murmured, his voice lower than before, tinged with a warmth that surprised even him.
"I want to," she whispered back, her eyes flicking down to where her fingers smoothed the fabric over his shoulders. "It's what wives do, right? Help their husbands prepare for the day."
The word "husband" still sounded strange to him when it came from her lips. He had never imagined himself in this kind of relationship, bound by a title that spoke of partnership and care.
Yet, as she adjusted his coat with gentle hands, he found he didn't mind the idea as much as he once had.
As Salviana moved to his sleeves, her touch slowed, and Alaric's gaze fixed on her. The way her hair fell over her shoulder, the way her lips parted slightly in concentration—it stirred something in him.
She was undeniably beautiful, and though they were still getting to know each other, there was an ease growing between them that he hadn't anticipated.
Her presence, her warmth—it was something he had begun to crave, though he'd never admit it aloud.
"How is it that you're always so calm?" Alaric asked, breaking the silence. "Most people flinch around me, especially once they hear about my… supposed essence."
Salviana paused, looking up at him with those soft, green eyes. "You may be different, but I don't see a reason to fear you. You've never directly given me one." she said
And she was also different but that wasn't the reason why she understood, she understood because she knew what it's like to be different all by yourself amongst thesames so she couldn't fear him for being different unless he proves the evil they assume right.