"It's the usual. Just admiring the morning," Mikhailis replied, his voice soft with a tinge of warmth. He turned his gaze to Elowen, her silhouette backlit by the first light filtering through the window. She stood there, a regal figure, yet her smile was meant only for him. It was in moments like these that Mikhailis felt the weight of their roles fade away, replaced by something simpler, more intimate.
Mikhailis then entered the room again and closed the door to the garden before going back to the bed.
Elowen approached the bed, her presence filling the room with a serene warmth. She sat down beside him, her silver hair cascading like moonlight down her back. Mikhailis reached out, brushing a strand behind her ear. Her golden eyes met his, and they exchanged a look that needed no words. The morning, like their nights together, had become sacred—an important ritual that grounded them amidst all the chaos of courtly duties and royal expectations.
