The air in the dimly lit chamber was thick with warmth, the lingering scent of rain still clinging to the stone walls. A single candle flickered atop the table near the window, casting long shadows that danced against the walls. The distant sound of waves crashing against the cliffs filled the silence, a rhythmic pulse that seemed to echo the heartbeat in Aragon's chest.
Freja stood before him, her back to him, her long silver hair cascading down her shoulders like silk spun from moonlight. She had just removed her cloak, the heavy fabric pooling at her feet, revealing the simple yet elegant tunic she wore beneath.
Aragon's breath was unsteady as he stepped forward, the space between them vanishing in an instant. His hands reached out, steady but eager, fingertips ghosting along the curve of her neck before trailing down to rest on her shoulders.
Freja tensed for a brief moment at the contact, but she did not pull away. She exhaled, slow and measured, as if weighing the moment.
