"Welcome, husband," she replied, turning to face him.
Without hesitation, he pulled her into a hug, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "I brought you flowers," he said, lifting the bouquet into view.
Salviana's eyes widened, the surprise and joy evident as she took the flowers from him. She traced her fingers over the petals, her smile growing.
"These are beautiful," she said softly, her tone laced with wonder. "This is the first time you've ever brought me flowers."
"Then I hope it's the first of many," Alaric replied, his voice carrying a sincerity that made her heart flutter.
She stepped onto her toes to kiss his cheek, holding the flowers close. "Thank you, Alaric. They're perfect."
He took her hand and guided her toward the parlor, where the two settled onto a plush couch.
Salviana leaned against his chest, her head nestled in the crook of his shoulder, while he rested his chin lightly on her hair.
"How was your day?" Alaric asked, his tone casual yet attentive.
"Fine," Salviana replied, her voice soft with contentment. "Jean is feeling better. And, surprisingly, Lucius can cook."
Alaric raised a brow. "Lucius? Cooking? That's unexpected."
She chuckled, her fingers lightly tracing patterns on his sleeve. "It is. But he's very… particular. He avoids sunlight like the plague. Truly a typical vampire."
"Unlike me," Alaric murmured with a wry smile.
"Completely unlike you," Salviana agreed, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. "It makes me wonder, though—where will Lucius live now? We can't keep him a secret forever. He needs a life of his own."
Alaric's expression turned thoughtful as he nodded. "You're right. We'll need to discuss it further. He may not like it, but staying here indefinitely isn't an option."
She sighed, her brows furrowing. "He's been through so much already. I just hope we can find a solution that works for him."
"We will," Alaric assured her, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I'll make sure of it."
Her expression softened at his words, and she decided to shift the conversation. "And your day? How was it?"
"It's nothing for you to worry about," he said, his tone gentle but firm. "There's still time before dinner. We could rest here a little longer, or take a walk if you'd like."
Salviana tilted her head, considering his suggestion. "A walk sounds lovely," she said after a moment. "But I think I'd like to stay here with you just a little longer."
Alaric smiled, tightening his hold on her. "Then here we'll stay."
The room fell into a comfortable silence, the world outside fading into the background as they simply enjoyed each other's company.
For Salviana, it was a rare moment of peace—a reminder that despite the chaos and uncertainty surrounding them, Alaric's presence was always steady and grounding.
She traced absent patterns on his chest as the faint sound of birds drifted in through the open window.
"Alaric?" Salviana called softly.
"Yes, my fiery one?" Alaric replied, his voice warm and amused.
She tilted her head to meet his gaze. "What would happen to you if you didn't drink blood?"
Alaric chuckled, a low sound that vibrated through his chest. "You know the saying: a hungry man is an angry man?"
She nodded, her brow furrowing. "Yes?"
"Well, an angry Alaric can be very destructive—sometimes even to himself."
Salviana's breath caught, her fingers stilling. "Destructive?"
He sighed, his hand brushing through her hair. "I tried it once. I was a teenager and thought I could defy my nature, change who I was. I believed I could be… normal." His voice grew quieter, tinged with regret. "But it ended badly."
Salviana sat up slightly, her eyes searching his face. "How badly?"
Alaric drew in a deep breath, his arms tightening around her instinctively. "The last day… I still regret it." His voice cracked slightly, a vulnerability rarely shown.
Her heart ached at his admission. She cupped his cheek, her thumb brushing against his skin. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
He leaned into her touch, his lips pressing a tender kiss to her palm. "Let's not dwell on it, love. Suffice to say, I get dangerous when starved, and it's not something I'd ever want to put you—or anyone—through." He smiled gently, though the weight of his words lingered. "So let's never try that, alright?"
"Alright," she agreed, her voice firm.
Then, as if to lift the mood, she perked up. "Oh! The queen loved my first design!"
Alaric quirked a brow, his hand idly brushing her back. "Did she now?"
"She's snobbish, but surprisingly nice when she's alone," Salviana added with a little laugh, not noticing the way her husband stiffened beneath her.
His expression darkened, his tone sharp. "I don't like her."
Startled, Salviana glanced up to meet his brooding gaze. "Why not? She seemed kind, and she even spoke well of your mother."
Alaric's jaw tightened. "She hates me. Always has."
Salviana frowned, genuinely puzzled. "Hates you? Are you sure? She said lovely things about the former queen."
"She hates me for taking my mother," he said bluntly, his voice cold.
The weight of his words fell heavy between them. Salviana's frown deepened. "But you—"
"I did," he interrupted, his voice harsh. "She'd still be alive if it weren't for me."
Salviana sat up fully, pulling back to study his face. "Alaric," she said firmly, "I wouldn't know you if you hadn't been born. I would be alone. Sad. Lost." Her voice grew more impassioned as she leaned closer. "Is that what you would have wanted? For us never to meet? For me to hate the world for not knowing you?"
"This isn't about you," Alaric muttered, shaking his head.
"But it is!" she insisted, her tone fierce. "I wouldn't be here without you, and your mother wouldn't have hated herself for losing you. She loved you. I know she did."
Alaric's head dipped, his shoulders heavy with guilt. "She had dreams, Salviana," he said quietly. "Dreams I took away."