Mathew POV
After the coronation, a celebration was held at the kingdom for close family and friends in honor of the new King, Mathew. It was a joyful ball, with guests dressed in elegant gowns and tailored suits. Classical music filled the air as a live band played, while caterers weaved through the crowd carrying silver trays topped with the finest caviar, biscuits, and savory snacks. Champagne flowed freely, glimmering in tall crystal flutes.
While the festivities continued inside, Mathew stood alone on the balcony, taking a quiet moment for himself. It was late afternoon, and after a long morning of ceremonies and greetings, the young king felt overwhelmed. He leaned against one of the stone pillars, staring out at the castle's lush garden.
The reality was still sinking in—this entire land was now his responsibility. He was the leader of thousands, and they were all counting on him.
Mathew drew in a deep breath, steadying himself.
He didn't remain alone for long. The warm presence of someone joining him broke his thoughts.
"So, how does it feel to be a king?" came a deep, familiar voice.
Mathew turned to see Dorian, his late father's dearest friend.
Straightening from the pillar, Mathew offered a faint smile. "I'm still trying to process it. But to be honest—"
He paused, his gaze drifting through the tall glass doors leading into the ballroom. He saw the joy on his family's faces, the laughter, the unity the coronation had brought.
"I've been waiting for this my whole life," he continued. "And I think I'm ready. Ready to lead these people, to make this land a better place."
Dorian's face lit with a proud smile. His kind brown eyes glimmered, and the fine lines around them deepened.
"I think you're going to be a great king," Dorian said warmly. "You carry your father's strength in you. If it weren't for him—if he hadn't rescued me from the fire back then—I wouldn't be here today."
Mathew's brow furrowed. That fire… he remembered it only vaguely. He had been small then, and all he knew was that it had nearly destroyed the kingdom's forest and parts of the village.
"How did my father rescue you?" he asked curiously.
Dorian nodded, his eyes distant with memory.
"I was in the forest, trying to get my family to safety. I got them out just in time, but Lord Lorcand caught up to us. He tried to take my daughter. I fought him while my wife ran and hid our little girl. I must have been knocked out during the struggle. When I woke, I was behind the castle gates. Your father had dragged me away from the fire. Somehow, he found me in all that smoke and chaos. If he hadn't... I'd be gone."
The story moved Mathew deeply. His father had been a great king—brave and selfless. And in that moment, Mathew knew with even greater certainty that he wanted to follow in his footsteps.
"My father was a good man," he said proudly. "Because of him, I want to be that kind of king too—a strong, kind leader for our people."
Dorian nodded, the pride in his expression unmistakable. Just then, they were joined by Mathew's sister.
Her beauty was striking—dark blue eyes, snow-pale skin, and flowing pitch-black hair. Her light blue gown shimmered in the fading sunlight, drawing every eye wherever she went. But it was her bright, playful smile that lit up the space around her.
"There's my brother," Arden called cheerfully as she stepped through the doors.
Mathew chuckled softly, bracing himself.
"I guess you've found me," he said.
"I did. And now you owe me a dance," she teased, holding out her hand.
Mathew sighed, meeting her gaze. "Arden, you know I'm a terrible dancer."
"I don't care," she replied, laughing as she began to pull him toward the ballroom. "You're the king now—you can't refuse your sister."
Behind them, Dorian chuckled at the exchange.
Mathew almost wanted to run, but he knew there was no escaping Arden once she set her mind to something. So, despite his clumsy feet, he let her drag him back into the ballroom, ready to try—if only for her.
Everest POV
His heart raced with excitement as he held Willow's hand, leading her through the castle's long, echoing hallways. Like children, they ran together, their laughter and footsteps bouncing off the stone walls. Every step felt like freedom, like magic.
They didn't stop until Everest reached one of the tall wooden doors — the entrance to the castle library. He knew no one would be there at this hour. It was the perfect place to escape. With a quick glance down the corridor, he pushed the door open and guided Willow inside, closing it behind them and locking it from within.
When he turned to her, the look on her face made his heart skip. The way her face light up of the library and how amazed she was .
"Everest, this place is magnificent," Willow whispered in awe. Her lips parted, and her green eyes widened as they swept over the towering shelves, velvet curtains, and old books that seemed to whisper stories from long ago. She could not help to looked at everything and notice the library has his own personal fire place with large big grey sofas.
Everest took a deep breath, barely able to contain the warmth spreading through his chest as he watched her. She was his future — his heart, his home. He was completely, irreversibly in love with her. And he cannot wait to married her tomorrow and make her his wife.
Trying to stay calm, he looked toward the fireplace and said gently, "Let me light the fire for us first."
The library tended to grow cold in the late afternoon, but with Willow there, Everest knew it was about to become the warmest place in the entire castle. He didn't care if anyone was looking for them—he just wanted to spend this time with her.
As he finished lighting the fire, he noticed Willow studying the books on the shelves, completely lost in her own world. Quietly, he walked over to her and came to stand behind her. Gently, he wrapped his strong arms around her waist and pressed a soft kiss to her bare shoulder.
"I can't believe you have so many books," Willow said in awe.
Everest chuckled, his eyes meeting hers as she turned in his arms.
"It's just a library," he replied with a smile.
Willow's cheeks flushed slightly as she looked up at him. "Could we have a library in our own castle one day?" she asked hopefully.
Everest's heart warmed at her words. He remembered what his father had told him—that he was giving them the old family castle, the one where Everest's father had grown up. The thought of adding a library there—just for Willow—made him smile.
"We could," Everest said. "If I recall correctly, there was a library in the old castle. But if not, we'll make one."
Willow beamed and wrapped her arms around his neck. The warmth of her skin sent shivers down his back as her body moved closer to his. Their eyes locked, and he was completely lost in her green hazel gaze.
His breath caught in his throat as he stared into her eyes. Without saying another word, he leaned in and gently pressed his lips to hers, letting them linger before deepening the kiss. His heart thundered in his chest, each beat echoing how much he wanted her.
The kiss became more passionate, his lips claiming hers with a quiet desperation.
Their tongues tangled as he pulled her closer, gently pressing her back against the bookshelf behind her. The rest of the world faded away—it was only the two of them.
He could almost hear her heartbeat as they kissed. Then, slowly, his lips left hers, trailing down her jawline and toward her neck. He found the soft spot just beneath her ear and kissed it, making her giggle.
Everest smiled at the sound of her giggle and continued to trail soft kisses down to her collarbone, letting his lips linger against her warm skin.
Something inside him stirred—an undeniable heat that awakened at her touch. She was like a beautiful dream he never wanted to wake from, a presence he couldn't resist. His hands gently roamed up her sides, cherishing her over the thin fabric of her gown, feeling the delicate rise and fall of her breath.
His elven ears flushed warm as the rush of emotion and desire flooded through him. He longed to be closer—closer than ever before.
Then he felt her hands press gently against his chest. She found the bottom of his shirt and began to undo each button, her fingers trembling slightly but with purpose. He paused, lifting his gaze to hers. Her cheeks were tinged with red, glowing softly against her sun-kissed skin. Her green hazel eyes held a spark—shy but filled with something deeper. Trust. Affection. Longing.
She undid the final button and slipped his shirt from his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor between them.
His skin was warm to the touch, his breath catching as she looked at him with wonder. He gently took her hand and led her to the fireplace, where a soft, white rug lay nestled between two large sofas.
They come to stand in the middle of the two large sofas, and Everest paused, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn't understand how he could feel so overwhelmed, like he might come undone from the sheer emotion of wanting to be with her. And not just in body—but in spirit.
He kissed her again, deeper this time, desire mixing with the tenderness he felt for her. His hands found the zipper of her gown, and with slow, reverent movements, he unfastened it. The dress slid down her body and pooled at her feet. When he stepped back, his breath caught.
Willow stood before him, the firelight painting her in gold. She was stunning—elegant, radiant, and vulnerable. She instinctively folded her arms across her chest, shy under his gaze.
Everest stepped closer, gently taking her hand and lifting it to his lips.
"No one will catch us," he murmured softly. "The door is locked. And everyone's still at the ball, dancing the night away."
Willow's eyes met his, still uncertain but softening as he spoke. He wanted her to feel safe, cherished, adored. He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers once more, this time slower, his touch speaking what words could not.
Whatever happened next would be shared—freely, completely, and only between them.
The fire crackled softly behind them, its golden light dancing across the walls and casting a warm glow over their skin.
Everest's hands remained gentle, resting on Willow's waist as he kissed her with tenderness and care, letting her set the rhythm. He could feel her relax under his touch, the earlier tension melting away like snow under spring's sun.
Willow's hands slid up his bare chest, resting over his heart. She could feel it beating—strong, fast, just as wild as her own. The world outside the library vanished. There were no watchful eyes, no grand expectations, no legacy pressing on their shoulders. Just two souls wrapped in warmth and each other.
Everest broke the kiss only to look at her again.
He wanted to remember this moment—the way she looked in the flickering light, how her hair framed her face like strands of gold, how her eyes shimmered with trust and something deeper.
Willow POV
The flickering firelight cast golden shadows across Everest's bare torso, making him appear almost otherworldly—like a sculpture brought to life. Willow's breath caught in her throat as her skin tingled and her legs weakened beneath her. She couldn't resist him.
With nervous anticipation, she reached up and ran her fingers through his silver-blond hair, tucking a stray lock behind one of his pointed elven ears.
"I can't wait to make you my wife," Everest said, his voice thick with emotion as his intense blue gaze held hers. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."
Her cheeks deepened in color, his words washing over her like a warm tide. She felt herself sinking into his world, into the gravity of his presence. His eyes, full of hunger and devotion, locked with hers, and it took everything in her not to melt.
"You're just saying that," she teased gently, biting her lower lip.
Everest stepped closer, his strong hands slipping around her bare waist. The contact sent a gasp escaping her lips as he pulled her closer.
"I'm not," he said, his tone unwavering.
The way he looked at her—like she was everything—made her heart ache. Willow took his hand and pressed it to her lips, kissing each rough fingertip. His hands were big, calloused from battle and life, but to her, they were beautiful.
Without a word, she led him to the grand sofa before the fire. Releasing his hand, she stepped back.
Her breath was shallow as she removed her heels and slowly slid her silk undergarment down, letting it fall to the floor. The fire crackled softly behind her as she returned to him, reaching for his hand.
"I want you," she whispered.
He licked his lips, his eyes darkening with desire as her words hit him like lightning.
She knelt slightly, finding the hem of his pants and easing them down. Looking up, she met his gaze once more. "I want you inside me."
Her cheeks flushed a deep scarlet, but she didn't look away.
Willow sat down on the sofa, never taking her eyes off him. Everest stepped out of his shoes and removed the last of his clothing. The sight of him—bare, strong, and glowing in the firelight—made her breath hitch.
He climbed onto the sofa with her, his body hovering above hers, warm and protective. As he leaned down, pressing his forehead to hers, their hearts beat in rhythm, as if the stars themselves had aligned just for this moment.
She felt how Everest lowered himself over her with the gentleness of a man who held something sacred in his arms.
His warmth enveloped her, and her body instinctively responded to the press of his skin against hers. Every inch of him was heat, strength, and longing.
Her hands trailed up the contours of his back, feeling the flex of his muscles as he moved—slowly, reverently. Their breaths mingled as their lips met again, this time deeper, hungrier, but still tender. It was a kiss that spoke of devotion, of promises whispered in moonlight and held close through every storm.
Willow's fingers tangled in his hair as she arched beneath him, her body drawn to his like a flame to air. A soft gasp escaped her lips as he cradled her face, his thumb brushing gently along her cheekbone.
His touch was reverent, and his touch was sending thousands of sparks over her body.
Her breath caught up in her throat as she felt something hard mover in to the wetness of her folds making her to gasp and break they kiss of the raw intence feeling of him pressing in to her.
Time froze that moment as her eyes locked with and the rawness of emotion was in his eyes as he looked at her.
Then she felt him lean in again—his lips crashing against hers, igniting something wild and electric between them. The hunger in his kiss was undeniable, but so was the tenderness beneath it. As they moved together in perfect rhythm, she heard him whisper her name between the kisses, his voice thick with emotion, cracking with the depth of everything he felt.
He didn't rush her. He never did.
Every movement was patient, deliberate—like he was learning her all over again, cherishing every second.
This wasn't just desire burning between them. This was love—deep, consuming, and utterly unrelenting. It was in the way his fingers traced the curve over her body, in the way he looked into her eyes like she was not just his lover, but his purpose.
In that moment, their souls felt as though they'd collided.
They were no longer just two bodies moving in sync—they were one breath, one heartbeat. Every trust of his brought her deeper into that truth. Willow bit her lower lip, trembling, as her senses took over. The pressure building inside her was something she had never felt before—raw, overwhelming, and beautiful.
She arched beneath him, her hands grasping at his back, nails pressing into his skin, her head falling back as the wave overtook her. Her breath hitched—then broke into a cry of moans as she let go, every fiber of her being unraveling in his arms.
She felt herself shatter in the most exquisite way, her body quaking with the release of everything she'd held inside.
And then, his—strong, steady his body began to —shook above her, the deep groan that escaped him echoing in her ears like a vow. She felt him give in, his body pressed tightly against hers, his strength melting into her as he reached his own peak.
He collapsed gently over her, their chests rising and falling in tandem, skin slick with warmth and breathless wonder.
His face found the curve of her neck, and he buried himself there, his arms wrapping around her like a vow never to let go. Willow held him too, one hand stroking the silver strands of his hair, the other tracing slow circles against his shoulder. After view minutes she felt him move out of her fold almost leaving an emptiness down there . She felt him moving beside her on the sofas and she turned around and lay her head on his bare chest ,hearing his steady heart beat in her ears .
Neither of them spoke—because words would never be enough.
In the quiet that followed, their world stood still. There was only the sound of the fire crackling beside them, the thrum of their joined hearts, and the unshakable certainty that what they shared wasn't fleeting.