Salviana's heart swelled at his words, and she lifted her head to look at him. "You are human in all the ways that matter, Alaric. You care, you love, and you make me feel like I belong."
His gaze darkened slightly, but it was with emotion, not sorrow. "You do belong, Salviana. With me, always."
She smiled, leaning up to kiss him—a soft, lingering kiss on his forehead that spoke more than words ever could he did the same and when they parted, she rested her head against his chest again, her fingers tracing absent patterns over his arm.
The night passed in gentle conversation and quiet laughter, punctuated by his occasional teasing remarks and her playful swats at his chest. They spoke of their dreams for the future, promises made in the glow of the firelight.
"We'll make this work," Alaric said at one point, his voice firm. "For us. For whatever future we build together."
Salviana looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with trust and hope. "We will," she agreed softly.
As sleep began to claim them, Salviana felt a rare sense of peace settle over her. Wrapped in his arms, she believed in the promise of a better tomorrow. For tonight, she was loved, she was safe, and she was his.
NEXT DAY.
The morning light barely filtered through the thick curtains of the third prince's chambers, casting soft shadows on the stone floor. The room was quiet, save for the faint sounds of distant horns signalling the assembly of the army.
Salviana stood at the window, her eyes fixed on the horizon, though her thoughts were far from the peaceful scene outside.
She had heard the rumblings of war for days now, and today, it had come — a battle her husband, Alaric, had to fight.
The door opened swiftly, and Richard, the loyal general, stepped inside with urgent steps. His expression was grim, as it always was before a battle, but there was something softer in his eyes when he looked at her — a deep understanding that was hard to ignore.
"Lady Salviana," Richard greeted her, his voice low, "The third Prince is already preparing for the front lines. He wanted to come to say goodbye, but it's… not possible. He's leading the charge."
Salviana's breath caught in her throat, and her grip tightened around the fabric of her gown. She nodded, slowly, though her heart felt heavy.
Her new life, the one she had fought so hard to accept, was already being tested in ways she had not anticipated.
Richard hesitated for a moment, the weight of what he was about to say lingering in the air. He knew Salviana had grown fond of Alaric, despite their tumultuous beginnings.
She had trusted him, had let him in when she had never let anyone else close. And now, with war at their doorstep, that trust was about to be tested in the most unforgiving way.
"Do not worry, Lady Salviana. He will return to you," Richard said, his voice steady but filled with an unspoken promise. "He's strong, and he fights with honour. You have his heart, and that is worth more than any battle."
Salviana's eyes welled with unshed tears, but she blinked them away before Richard could notice. She swallowed the lump in her throat, trying to keep her composure.
"I know," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "But I still…" She trailed off, unable to finish the thought. There were no words for the fear that gripped her chest, the uncertainty that settled deep in her bones.
What if something happened to him?
What if the battle was too much, even for someone as powerful as Alaric?
Richard gave her a small nod, understanding the depth of her worry, but there was nothing more to say. His eyes softened, but duty was duty. "I must go. I'll join the others. Trust in him, Lady Salviana. Trust in him."
Without another word, he turned on his heel and left the chambers as quickly as he had entered, his footsteps echoing down the hallway.
Salviana stood in silence, her thoughts a storm inside her head. The warmth of the sun couldn't reach her heart, and the coldness that had settled in her chest refused to leave.
She wanted to reach out to someone, to speak her fears, but there was no one.
No one would understand the weight of being married to a man like Alaric, a man of power, of mystery, and of unspoken burdens.
She had been raised to believe that strength was all that mattered, but now that strength felt like a distant, unreachable thing.
Alone, she wandered to the bed, her hands trembling as she smoothed out the covers. Her mind flashed to Alaric's face — the way his eyes had looked at her when he promised to protect her, when he had given her his heart.
That same heart was now marching into a war that could tear them apart forever.
She pressed her hands to her chest, trying to calm the wild beating in her chest. She trusted him.
She knew he would do everything in his power to return to her. But trust couldn't keep the fear at bay. It only made it feel sharper, more potent.
She could feel the tears threatening again, but this time, she refused to let them fall. She had been through too much in her life to be reduced to tears.
Instead, she closed her eyes, hoping the pain would subside with time, and whispered to the empty room, "Come back to me, Alaric."
The silence in the room answered her with nothing but the faint sound of the wind outside. The battle had begun, and her heart was already caught in the storm.
She wished, desperately, that she could speak to someone, to ask for comfort or even just for advice.
But no one was there.
No one understood the isolation she felt, the burden of loving a man who was bound by forces beyond her control.
With a heavy sigh, Salviana took a step back from the window, wiping her eyes as she composed herself. She had to be strong, not just for Alaric but for herself.
She couldn't let the fear consume her. She couldn't let the doubt and loneliness take root.
She had to trust. Trust that the bond they had forged would be enough to bring him back to her.
How would she be without his presence for this few days now?