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Chapter Text

10th of Red Wolf Moon
Imperial Year 1183
Garreg Mach Monastery, Adrestia
Night

(Hours after the defense of Garreg Mach)

Edelgard

Edelgard suppressed a sigh.

Hubert had insisted that Shez had learned these sorts of gestures during her education as a proper officer—and she found herself hoping that he had been wrong. Otherwise, she was being spurned.

She wore the whistle openly, over her ornate armor. Shez had keen eyes—she must have seen it. She kept looking over to the solitary head table, and so she’d seen the empty chair by her side, as well—and yet she remained at the table with her friends: including the Ashen Demon and his father, surprisingly. And while it was good to know that there was no bad blood there, and while she knew that despite how well they worked together there weren’t any romantic feelings—it left her feeling spurned.

She scooted the chair out a little more, just to see if that would help.

It didn’t. Shez saw it—it had made a horrible scraping sound, and so everyone saw it—but she quickly turned back to the Ashen Demon.

She sighed, not bothering to suppress it.

Shez didn’t even do her the courtesy of a visit. These feasts, unlike the ones they would share in the field, had rules. And while Count Varley wasn’t attending, he was a man comforted by tradition—and she was best served placating him for now, while she still had need of the Southern Church she had resurrected. Doubly so, given how thoroughly she had admonished him in the wake of his rescue—she needed to be diplomatic tonight.

When the Emperor attended a feast such as this, she could not mingle. Rather, her subjects would visit the lonely head table, one by one, to be graced with polite, proper conversation from Her Majesty.

It wasn’t unpleasant. There wasn’t a dragon, for one thing. For another, the Kingdom army wouldn’t return until after the winter, unless they wished to be put to rout again. And even though it was never wise to discount Those Who Slither in the Dark—Thales was dead. Yet the woman who had been at her side, who had seen it happen, who had perhaps sealed his fate by distracting him as he faced Rhea…

“What’s eating you, Edie?” Dorothea asked, startling her. She relaxed—she could drop decorum for at least a moment, now. The Emperor was allowed friends, after all.

And Dorothea was precisely the right person to help. She, more than anyone, spoke the languages of both nobles and commoners. And, she already knew about her feelings.

“Shez,” she admitted, stealing a glance at the woman in question—who looked more than a little startled as the Blade Breaker clapped a hand on her shoulder. She idly thumbed the little whistle, wondering what exactly would happen if she just blew it.

“Poor Edie,” Dorothea said, following her gaze. “I’d ask if she really is that oblivious, but—it’s Shez.” She let out a huff. “Not to rub it in, but this is making me glad I got it out of my system so early.”

Edelgard gave her friend a knowing look. “I see. And here I thought there would be another reason you would be glad to have moved on—a royal one, so to speak.”

Dorothea grinned. “There’s that, too, of course.” She shamelessly stole a look at Petra, who gave them both a wave. “Far be it from me to get in Your Majesty’s way,” she added—which they both knew wasn’t really what she’d meant.

“I appreciate the consideration,” she said with a wry smile. “I doubt that I could endure any more obstacles. I wish I could just—talk to her.”

Dorothea gave her a level look. “And why can’t you?” She let out a huff. “I know you don’t want me spilling the beans for you, but—I wish you’d just let me. Do you have any idea how frustrating it is, talking to someone and not being able to just tell them, ‘Don’t worry, she’s completely, madly, in love with you’?”

“Perhaps I should,” Edelgard mused. She wanted to just rise, cross the room, rescue Shez from the Ashen Demon’s glare—what exactly were they talking about?—and lead her off to talk, but—

“I thought she was courting me,” she said softly.

“Is that from her?” Dorothea asked, gesturing to the whistle.

Edelgard laughed. “I assumed it was common knowledge—which I suppose is a relief. Perhaps not everyone has made a note of this humiliation.” She looked down at her plate as Shez furtively met her eyes from across the room. “She gave it to me the morning after she—was possessed.”

“Tell me about it,” Dorothea said. “Maybe it’ll help.”

Edelgard smiled—the memory wasn’t completely tainted by her foolishness, at least. “She looked so nervous, which I suppose makes sense: she’d just spoken with both the Ashen Demon and Hubert.” She laughed. “She could barely manage any words at all—and I know I should feel guilty for finding it so endearing, but…”

“She does get a special kind of flustered around you, Edie,” Dorothea said. “Or even when just talking about you—so I can’t blame you. It’s cute.”

Edelgard stole a look at Shez, who quickly looked down at her own plate. She looked horribly embarrassed now, too—but her typical sheepish smile was replaced by an uncomfortable frown. She looked miserable.

She sighed and tore her eyes away. “She assured me that she would come right away if I were to blow it.” She managed a small smile—just having it had helped with more than a few nightmares during the frantic march back to Garreg Mach. They’d gotten worse and worse the clearer it had become that Thales was leading the attack—it was perhaps thanks only to this gift that she’d managed any sleep at all last night.

“She made it over ten years ago, and yet it shows so little weathering. She must have taken excellent care of it.” 

Dorothea smiled. “I know she gave it to you for a reason, Edie. Chin up—it’ll all work out, I promise.” She grinned. “I mean, it practically writes itself: scruffy mercenary meets a princess, saves her, they go to school together, then fight side by side in a war—and cut through everything standing in their way. And just like all those stories, you keep wondering when they’ll stop being idiots and just talk.”

Edelgard laughed. “Perhaps you’re right. And—I hope all of this isn’t too frustrating for you.” She ignored the protests of her better judgment and said the words before she could balk. “How about this: if I fail to do so tonight, you have my permission to tell her whatever you wish.”

Dorothea raised her eyebrows. “Never thought I’d see the day. Well! Too late to back out, Edie—and good luck!” She turned to leave, but paused for just a moment. “Not that you need it.”

She knew it was because of how much had happened since, but she felt more nervous now than she had after finally declaring war. There was no stopping Dorothea now—and so the die was cast.

And yet she had still balked for the rest of the feast. The food had tasted so bland—although she knew it was perfectly made. It just—

Shez was wonderfully creative with seasonings, and she’d let herself get used to it. Her favorite dishes had been served, and yet they had left her disappointed—greedy as she was.

“Hubert,” she said as they left the feast. “I would like to…”

She felt far too girlish, asking her attendant to deal with this for her.

But Hubert von Vestra knew her all too well. “You would like to speak with Shez, I take it?” His tone lacked any undercurrent of judgment, thankfully—although she knew better than to think that he finally approved. “I admit, I was shocked to see her remain seated for the duration of the feast. Her… advances in the wake of recent events were certainly bold, and yet she lacked that characteristic boldness tonight.”

He frowned. “Perhaps I overestimated her. In fact—I’m rather certain that I have. She is hardly the picture of decorum, after all. You have my apologies: it seems that I have given you rather poor advice.”

“It’s hardly your fault, Hubert,” she said. But—she had gone so far as to prepare a ring for tonight, albeit one she only needed resized. Hubert had assured her that he had taught Shez the gestures of proper courtship—albeit to ensure that she knew what not to do—and so he had agreed that the culmination was nigh, marked by her brazen gift, one given in the open.

Edelgard clenched her fist, holding the ring tightly. She felt so foolish: if she had misinterpreted that gesture, which she clearly had, then—Shez hadn’t been courting her all along. All of those excursions, the lovely meals, and this gift… they were friendly.

Which should have been more than enough. She was being greedy. Shez had already done so much for her: helping her rid Adrestia of Those Who Slither in the Dark, for one. That work had continued ever since the coup: her keen senses had turned up more than a few spies—and that was before considering how instrumental she had been in the day’s tally: Myson, Anaximandros, and Thales were gone, core and all. One could even credit her with the deaths of Solon and Bias—it was due to her that they had been drawn out. Kronya, too, could be added to the count.

As if that wasn’t enough, she had faced down the Immaculate One by her side. She smiled as she recalled those tense moments, each covering the other in their own way: Shez with quick bursts of power spiriting them both out of danger, and Edelgard with her massive shield and powerful blows pinning the beast down and opening the way for Shez to follow up.

Had it not been counterproductive to her goals, and if she hadn’t been certain that it would be ill received, she would have granted Shez a title long ago. But—that was a large part of what made her so attractive: she was incompatible with the old way of doing things. By her very nature—her very stubborn nature—she undid the bonds of tradition. Edelgard admired her for it: that she would use that freedom not only for herself, but for those around her. Ferdinand was glad to share meals with commoners, Ashe had stopped lamenting his lost knighthood, and even Lorenz had, as Shez had put it, “gotten his fancy stick out of his backside.”

And yet, she foolishly, childishly, demanded more.

Hubert had clearly noticed her dismay. “Let me speak with her, Lady Edelgard.” He bowed. “I will sort this out.”

She knew she should stop him, but he clearly wasn’t out for blood any longer. And—she was embarrassingly despondent. “Please do,” she said softly.

Chapter Text

10th of Red Wolf Moon
Imperial Year 1183
Garreg Mach Monastery, Adrestia
Night

(An hour later)

Shez

Shez had no idea what was going to happen to her.

Sure, she’d broken the rebuilt trust between Edelgard and herself, even though she’d done her best to prevent it. But in the end, nothing too awful had come of it, other than Dimitri’s escape—but Edelgard had let him go. The Ashen Demon was unhurt, and she’d managed to get everyone out of that awful place—except for…

Arval, she thought sadly. She really wished she could talk to them now. She could use the comfort. Sure, she wasn’t in a cell exactly, but—the little second-floor office wasn’t much better. It wasn’t Seteth’s old office, at least; she had bad memories of being dragged in there after the mock battle, worried that one of the noble kids had complained hard enough to get her executed.

Edelgard had seemed perfectly happy with her both before and after today’s battle. She’d reassured her that she’d more than earned her trust, even after everything that had happened—and those lilac eyes had looked so warm in the early morning light. And after the battle, she’d even finally given her a high-five.

Plus, Dorothea had been increasingly exasperated that she kept refusing to “just talk to Edie.” She’d told her over and over again that Edelgard almost certainly felt the same way, but—it wasn’t easy to believe it.

But she’d gotten her hopes up during the feast, thanks to the Ashen Demon. “I don’t know how else to interpret it,” he had said, to his father’s clear amusement. “That’s your old whistle she’s wearing, isn’t it? And the seat next to her is held open.” Those piercing eyes had rounded on her—he’d obviously recovered from that collapse, earlier, and even without the otherworldly bright green eyes, he could still root her to the spot. “Shez, I know I haven’t been here long, but I’m certain that I’m right. Tell me: does she ever allow anyone else to take her on outings?”

“No,” she’d admitted. “But—”

He hadn’t relented. “It was every day during the Wyvern Moon, Shez. You were both losing sleep making up work—and once, you were both gone for hours.”

“I told you: we got lost.”

Jeralt had laughed and clapped her on the shoulder. “The kid’s right. You really think His High Greasiness would’ve let her get away without a tail? No—if she’d wanted to, she’d have gotten back to camp right away on a fresh horse, courtesy of his spooks.”

She sighed. He’d been right: once, some pressing business had interrupted their little tea party—in the form of one of House Vestra’s agents arriving with two horses ready to spirit them both back to work. And—Edelgard had apologized, looking honestly crestfallen.

But despite all that, she hadn’t managed to work up the courage to even go and say hello before Edelgard had left. She wanted to kick herself: she’d obviously ruined her chance. Edelgard was furious with her: why else would those familiar House Vestra spooks have intercepted her on her way to the dorms and brought her here?

Unless…

Well. Hubert had told her that he would rather not leave her alive, after all that had happened. Maybe—maybe by missing that chance, she’d lost the only thing shielding her from the Empire’s spymaster.

Hubert swept into the room, which was a really bad sign.

She flinched, and he sighed. “Shez—you truly are vexing.” He sat across from her, which put him way too close for her liking: those pale eyes felt like they could slip past her defenses, just like how the Ashen Demon’s would simply sweep them aside. It left her more than a little unsettled—and unlike Byleth, Hubert was still a threat.

“Relax,” he said in a tone that, despite what was probably a sincere effort, made sure that she couldn’t. “Tell me—what do you think is happening here?”

There wasn’t any point in lying. “I messed up, didn’t I?” she asked, her voice even meeker than she’d thought. He nodded, his lips forming a thin line. She—wanted to apologize, but not to him. “Where’s Edelgard?”

“Rest assured that she is the one who sent me here,” he said, dashing her last hope, that Edelgard would hear of this and arrive in time to save her. It must have shown on her face—and Hubert recoiled in plain surprise. “Shez, what do you think I plan to do, exactly?”

“Tie up loose ends,” Shez said. “I mean—you told me, didn’t you? Once you were done with me, I’d be—killed. Not sent away, not cut off, not exiled.”

Hubert smiled and shook his head. “Had you proven to be an agent of the enemy, then yes. But were I to wish for your head—and were Her Majesty to allow it—you would not be given the courtesy of a warning.” He cackled. “Why do you remain here, if you think I’m here to—to kill you?” His laugh—he’d never sounded so amused. “Your power would allow you to escape my grasp with no trouble at all.”

It was a good question. “I—want to see her,” she said honestly, without thinking.

Hubert smiled: a real one, one that left her shocked. “You will. But first—allow me to apologize for having my fun.” He closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. “In truth, you have left me defeated. My suspicions have never before been so wrong.” He bowed, leaving her even more stunned. “It is beyond clear that you are no threat to Her Majesty—or, indeed, to any of us. You are as you have always claimed to be: an ally—and a friend, if I may be so bold.” The smile managed to reach his eyes. “I also apologize for what I said in the wake of your triumphant return: I should have heeded Her Majesty’s counsel and trusted you. To claim that I would rather not leave you alive—my worry had gotten the better of me. It is a poor excuse, but it is the truth.

“I have long served Her Majesty, even from childhood—I always knew it to be my lot in life. Her dreams are mine, as are her enemies. Her allies should be as well.” He shook his head, but the smile remained. “And—well. I dare not stand in the way of Her Majesty’s dreams, or in the way of one who has so ably and faithfully served her. And so let me offer some sincere advice.”

The smile faded, and he glared—just like he had every time she had failed to bow or salute just right. “Recall what I taught you of courtship—and do not dare to offer such gestures lightly.” He relented. “But even more, explain yourself to Her Majesty, as only you can: with absolute disregard for propriety. Prepare yourself: I will send her in presently.”

He rose and swept his cloak around, heading for the door. “Wait,” she managed. “Hubert—thanks.”

“Of course, Lady Shez,” he said with another bow. And then she was left alone once more—her heart now pounding in her chest, nervous for an entirely different reason.

Fortunately—or unfortunately—she didn’t have more than a minute or two alone with her thoughts.

Edelgard entered furtively—she knocked gently first, waited a moment, and slipped in through a crack rather than open the door wide. And she had doffed her armor: she wore her gambeson only—with the whistle.

That helped. She hadn’t ruined everything, at least. But Edelgard looked so nervous.

She knew she did, too—and it couldn’t have been helping. She tried to smile, but—it felt just like it had in those awkward months when they were piecing their friendship back together. She knew how strained her smile must have looked.

It clearly sent the wrong message.

“I apologize, Shez,” Edelgard said, clenching her left fist tightly. “I shouldn’t have put all of this pressure on you. I—should have known better than to read more from such gestures than what you intended. Your friendship is dear to me, and—goodnight, Shez.”

She turned to leave, which—no.

“Wait,” she said. Edelgard stopped in her tracks, and turned to meet her eyes—and her heart insisted that she make this right, right now. Those eyes… she hadn’t seen them in so much pain since she’d revealed her deception.

“I meant it.” Her heart fluttered. “And I’m sorry about missing all the signs tonight—I really wanted to come and join you. If—that’s what you wanted, I mean. The Ashen Demon kept trying to convince me, but—it’s all kinda over my head.” She shook her head. “No, that’s not right. I just didn’t let myself believe it.”

She paused and took in a breath. “I like seeing you wear the whistle, though. I didn’t know—didn’t remember—about courtship when I gave it to you. I wasn’t thinking about what it’d mean to give the Emperor a gift like that. But… I meant it. Edelgard, it’s my way of telling you I’ll always be there for you.” She hesitated, still nervous despite everything—but another look at those eyes, as they softened with something delightful, gave her more than enough courage.

She stopped herself from beating herself up further by apologizing for not being there tonight—she kept fixing it, instead, by spilling her guts. “You kept mentioning that you hoped I would stick around after the war. That, and you hoped you were paying me enough. I—I’m not used to a client treating me like that, which… I guess you’re not really a client to me. Haven’t been for awhile now.”

Edelgard took the seat across from her and smiled, blushing slightly. She continued, encouraged. “But I don’t know how to—I’m not good at getting attached.” She let out a laugh. “I still do it, but—it’s hard after losing so much. And after… everything that happened, I wasn’t sure you even wanted to see my face.”

“Shez,” Edelgard said softly, all of the earlier worry gone from her tone. “I trust you.” She extended her right hand, leaving it palm-up on the table.

Shez grinned and took it, curling her fingers against Edelgard’s. “I know.” The words kept coming. “Can’t thank you enough for hearing me out—it helped. But, I had no clue how to tell a client that I felt like staying on even longer—it’s not something mercs like me ever get to really do, especially to someone so high up. Felt like I’d be overstepping. And, I had no idea how to tell—you know, the Emperor—that I expected a place for me. I mean, you told me to, but—you didn’t seem like the Emperor just then, I guess.”

She ignored her embarrassment—Edelgard never seemed to mind her rambling. “But I knew how to let a comrade—someone I trust with my life—know I’d be there for them, and so that’s what I did.” She let out a slow breath, giving herself one last chance to back out. She—

Her heart outright rejected the idea of pulling away. She could practically hear Arval admonishing her for balking like this.

She smiled at Edelgard. “I meant it, Edelgard. It’s a symbol, yeah, but—a practical one.” She laughed, feeling a little silly—but Edelgard was smiling at her now. “It’s loud, but I’m not gonna be able to hear it from across Fódlan—or even across Enbarr. So, to me, it means… that I’m glad to—that I want to be close enough to hear it. To come whenever you need me.” She steeled herself, deciding to stop dancing around it. “I wanna be there for you, Edelgard—however you need me to be. However you want me to be.”

Edelgard’s cheeks were adorably flushed. “Shez—I accept, of course, my dear friend. But I insist upon returning the gesture. I refuse to simply take you for granted—and for the moment, forget that I’m the Emperor. Forget propriety. Shez, in what way would you like me to be there for you?”

Shez had so many answers: just having a guarantee of steady work was more than she would have hoped for a year ago. It was a merc’s dream, to get that kind of job—she’d be set for life.

She’d long wanted a place to come back to, somewhere she could call home. She’d gotten used to the cozy forward base, after all, and it was lovely knowing she had a warm bed waiting for her—along with a place full of friends she could share meals with.

She wanted to stay. To settle down and put aside her need to wander, just to make sure she wouldn’t lose Edelgard.

But—

“I want you to let me help you,” she said, squeezing Edelgard’s hand. “Let me keep building this dream with you, Edelgard. And—let me stay even longer, once it’s done. You told me you wanted to get rid of your armor once and for all, and explore the world, right?” She matched Edelgard’s growing grin as her heart soared. “Come with me, when you’re ready. And until then—let me be by your side, here, like this.” Her heart fluttered as she stopped kidding herself: that growing look in Edelgard’s eyes was love.

“I love you, Edelgard.”

Edelgard von Hresvelg, Emperor of Adrestia, and the most composed woman she knew, tripped over the leg of her chair in her haste to rise. Shez flitted over to her with her power and caught her easily, earning a wonderful little laugh. Edelgard was so warm in her arms, her smile so bright…

She kissed her. Or—Edelgard kissed her. She couldn’t be sure.

It was a quick kiss, but they didn’t pull back more than an inch once it was over. “I love you too, Shez,” Edelgard murmured, before leaning back in—and this one lingered.

She poured all of her feelings into it: those precious moments she’d shared with Edelgard over tea, just the two of them; all the times Edelgard had fought alongside her, each of them protecting the other; the pride in her eyes when Shez had explained that she finally really understood her dream, and that she believed in it; the gentle comfort after Zahras, when she’d lost her oldest friend; and the clear delight on her face when she’d accepted her gift.

Edelgard was doing the same. The gentle yet hungry movement of her lips—this was love. There wasn’t any hiding from it, not any longer, not for either of them. Not behind gestures, or worry, or guilt, or shame…

Her life as a wandering mercenary was well and truly over. It had been, ever since that night in the woods, even if she’d taken way too long to accept it. She’d given up on killing the Ashen Demon—and it was even easier, giving up on the idea of walking away from this.

And so, when they parted and Edelgard held out her left hand, revealing the little gold ring she held, she didn’t hesitate.

“Yes,” she said, even before Edelgard could ask.

Edelgard laughed, her voice warm and bright. “Allow me at least this gesture, Shez.” She blushed. “My love. I want you by my side, from this day onwards—always. Since the very first night we met, you have made my future brighter than I ever dared to hope, in so many ways. I once told you that you were the missing piece that Adrestia required—and while that is certainly true, it hardly does you justice. You support me, yes—but you comfort me, as well.”

She smiled. “I recall once that Ferdinand damned the food you served us with faint praise—and I’m afraid that I did, as well. I told him that one would be fortunate to find the food that graced noble tables anywhere else, but—truthfully, the feast tonight made a liar of me. I would instead be fortunate to be able to enjoy your cooking, Shez: I have grown accustomed to it.” She laughed, looking as if she’d just figured something out. “Or, perhaps—knowing you, you have tailored it to suit my palate, and mine alone.” Shez grinned—she was right.

“I once said that only you would ask the Emperor on an excursion. I hope I always made it clear just how grateful I was for those lovely moments, for a chance to breathe—including the time you got us lost in the woods.” She laughed. “That day… when you asked what was on my mind, I joked that I could go on for hours about Adrestia’s intractable problems—and you let me, as we rounded the same copse over and over.”

She held out the ring. “I know that you weren’t directly attempting to court me, and that I was foolish to try and let you know just how successful you had been solely through such gestures. So let me say it plainly, as suits both of us: I love you. I want you by my side, always. I would take you as my wife—and I would be yours.” She leaned her forehead against Shez’s. “I don’t need anyone else, in case that worry ever crosses your mind: there won’t be any consorts, any political marriages, any heirs—even if we were to have children.”

Her heart thudded in her chest. She hadn’t thought to worry about any of that—her wildest fantasies never got that far—but it was wonderful to hear. More importantly, it sounded like Edelgard had figured out what Epimenides’ taunting about this being his body had meant, but—she didn’t mind, clearly.

“So, Shez, my love—would you marry me?”

“Yes,” she said again, even more certain than before. And, as the ring slipped on, it felt so right.

It was beautiful, of course. Small purple gemstones were embedded in the band, rather than protruding, and they caught the lantern light wonderfully.

“They match your eyes,” Shez said softly. “I never told you, did I? They’re beautiful. You said mine captured the light of dawn.” She gave Edelgard a gentle kiss. “Yours make me think of when evening’s settling in, finally—and it’s all calming down. When it’s alright to finally rest.”

“I’m glad,” Edelgard said, leaning against her still. “And Shez—it is. True, much work awaits me—awaits us. And I won’t hear you disparage your own talents: you’ve made a fine officer, paperwork and all, despite your doubts. As my wife, you must be familiar with affairs of state—and I trust that you will put in the work.”

Shez nodded, grinning. “You got it, Edelgard.”

Edelgard laughed. “I know I do. Forgive my rambling—I am somewhat…” She laughed again, even more brightly. “I’m overjoyed, Shez. Tonight, we rest: this has been an incredible victory, and I intend to celebrate. Properly. Truthfully, the feast bored me, given that I was denied your company. Due to my own foolishness, of course—I should have simply asked.”

Edelgard, her wonderful fiancée, rose to her feet and offered her hand. “Shez, would you join me in our chambers?”

Her heart fluttered. “Don’t gotta ask, Edelgard,” she said as she took the hand and let her love pull her to her feet. “Just lead the way.”

She stole a quick kiss before they headed off—or at least one she’d intended to be quick. Edelgard had other ideas, and so it lingered. Her breath caught as Edelgard pulled her closer and deepened the kiss—and as she gently stroked her ring finger. This was a language she understood: Edelgard wanted her, and couldn’t help but bask in the joy of—of having her as her fiancée. Of getting to enjoy a night together, knowing that it would be the first of many.

She was surprised by just how comfortable she was. Sure, Edelgard probably knew about her body, but she didn’t know for sure—

She let the worry fall away entirely as they emerged from the room, hand in hand, greeted by the bows of the Imperial Guard. “Your Majesty,” the captain said. “Your Highness.”

It sounded so odd, but—she understood this gesture, at least. Edelgard was making a place for her. Her body didn’t matter, her manners didn’t matter. Her station, her lack of a family name—none of it stood in Edelgard’s way.

And so she retired to the wildly lavish chambers on the third floor, shared a knowing look with the woman she loved—one who cared just as little for these decorations as she did—and settled in to enjoy the only two things that mattered tonight: her wonderful lover, and the enticingly large bed.

And the knowledge that, of the two, the only one that really mattered would be hers—forever.