Everything had been planned to perfection.

The grandeur of the ballroom, the elegance of the guests, the delicate arrangements of flowers that adorned every corner—it all spoke of meticulous care and effort. Tonight was meant to be a night of celebration, a night where Lilithe, Queen of the realm, would share news that would solidify her position and bring joy to her court. But despite the flawless execution, she couldn't shake the gnawing feeling of unease that had settled in her chest.

Her earlier breakdown had done little to calm her nerves, and the tension lingered even as she mingled with the members of her court. She had hoped that engaging with them, hearing their pleasantries and compliments, would soothe her anxiety. Yet, a chill ran down her spine, a sense of being watched, scrutinized. She maintained her serene smile as she turned her head subtly to pinpoint the source of her discomfort, her gaze landing on Lord Silvius.

The man's face was obscured by a soft blue metal mask, but the silver strands of his hair gave him away. He was an imposing figure, always watching, always lurking. His presence felt intrusive, even menacing, though he had never openly shown hostility.

"Lilithe?" Bastien's voice broke through her thoughts, his hand lightly tapping her shoulder. "It's time."

Time? Oh, right.

She forced a smile, one that she hoped seemed genuine. "Of course it is."

They moved to the center of the dance floor, Bastien handing her a flute of sparkling champagne. As she held it tightly in her gloved hand, she noticed the room fall into an expectant silence. The members of her court watched with bated breath, curious and eager for the announcement they knew was coming.

"Good evening, everyone," Lilithe began, her voice clear and steady despite the turmoil within. "I do hope you're enjoying this celebration, as it is in honor of a very special announcement—news of my engagement!"

A ripple of whispers spread through the crowd, eyes darting between her and Bastien. She could see the doubt in their faces, the disbelief in their hushed tones. She knew that mere words would not be enough to convince them. With a delicate motion, she handed her champagne flute to Bastien and began to remove the silk gloves that had adorned her hands all evening.

"The rumors of a secret courtship are true," Bastien declared, his voice loud and clear. He took her now-bare hand in his and raised it, the large diamond ring on her finger catching the light and dazzling the onlookers. "We are engaged."

For a moment, the room was silent, as if the collective breath of the court had been stolen away. Then, as the reality of the announcement settled in, the silence erupted into a wave of applause and cheers. Lilithe's gaze flickered to her immediate family. Uncle Cedric's expression was unreadable, Aunt Seraphine beamed with delight, and her cousin Mephisto merely nodded with a small, knowing smile. She understood his reaction well enough—Mephisto had never approved of Bastien, believing him to be too much of a playboy to ever be a suitable match for her.

"Cheers!" The toast rang out, and Lilithe found herself downing the champagne in a single gulp, hoping it would calm the nerves that still buzzed beneath her skin. But instead of relief, a wave of nausea washed over her, compounding the unease that had haunted her all evening. Bastien, ever perceptive, leaned in to press a soft kiss to her cheek, whispering in her ear, "Mingle with the courtiers, and then you can slip away."

She plastered a smile on her face and nodded, taking only a few steps away from him before she was surrounded by a small group of courtiers. They greeted her with practiced politeness, but the tension in the air was palpable. She forced herself to smile through it, lifting her glass as though she hadn't already drained it.

A tall, thin man with graying hair and a sharp, almost predatory gaze was the first to speak. "I am pleased that you have come to your senses, Your Highness. Marrying Bastien will bring stability to the crown."

Lilithe bit back the frown that threatened to break her composed exterior. Instead, she smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Come to my senses? You believe that I wasn't before?"

The man, Lord Beckett, had the gall to continue. "You must understand, Your Highness, that the stability of the crown is paramount. As our Queen, it is your duty to marry a man who will provide comfort and security to the people."

Her patience snapped, and her gaze narrowed. "Lord Beckett, I suggest you focus on your own duties before advising me on mine."

The courtier blinked, taken aback. "Pardon?"

"Just a few days ago, two farmers came to me, each claiming ownership of the same acre of land—a plot that you sold to both of them. Upon closer inspection, it was revealed that it was indeed you who had created this... unfortunate situation."

A murmur of amusement rippled through the surrounding courtiers, and Lord Beckett's face flushed with embarrassment. Without another word, he retreated, his earlier bravado deflated.

Satisfied, Lilithe turned to the remaining courtiers. "Anyone else?"

A woman with a haughty expression and venom in her voice was the next to speak. "Taking a husband isn't the end of the world, Your Highness. We all have to do things we don't want to do. Just because you're the Queen doesn't mean you can avoid your duties."

Lilithe's smile remained in place, though it grew colder. "You're unwedded as well, Lady Jupiter," she said calmly. "A woman of your age should have settled down and started a family by now."

Lady Jupiter's gasp of outrage was almost comical. Her face turned a deep shade of red, and without another word, she stormed off, leaving Lilithe surrounded by a handful of courtiers who quickly changed their tune, offering congratulations and well wishes for her engagement.

As Lilithe entertained the rest of the conversation with grace, downing several glasses of wine to keep her nerves in check, she felt a gentle tug on her arm. Lady Jessamine, a close friend of the royal family, looped her arm through Lilithe's and guided her away from the crowd, Rogue following closely behind.

"That was quite the show," Jessamine giggled, her voice light with amusement. "Watching you tear into Lady Jupiter for her hypocrisy was the highlight of my evening."

"Even more than reuniting with Lucy?" Lilithe teased, her own spirits lifting slightly.

Jessamine playfully nudged her. "Never. The rumors of her return had me dying to come here and see for myself." Jessamine had always been an enigma, a loyal friend to the royal family but one who kept her own secrets well-guarded. They had been close once, but time and distance had changed them both.

"She's just like her mother, isn't she?" Lilithe remarked, a fond smile crossing her lips.

"Lucy favors Layla in so many ways, but she has her father's stubbornness and clever thinking. It's a shame she lost them both so young," Jessamine said softly.

Lilithe nodded in agreement, the weight of loss hanging between them for a moment. Then, with a mischievous glint in her eye, Jessamine changed the subject. "I assume, from the lack of a wedding ring, that Lucy is still unmarried?"

"You're correct," Lilithe replied.

"That blonde man—Sting, is it? He seems like her type, don't you think?"

Lilithe caught the mischief in Jessamine's tone and decided to play along. "I'm not sure. Someone like Bastien might suit her perfectly."

Jessamine feigned a gag. "That man has more diseases than I care to count. I fear that just breathing the same air as him might be contagious."

Lilithe hid her laughter behind her fan, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "In truth, I think Sting and Lucy complement each other quite well, in both personality and magic."

Jessamine nodded thoughtfully. "I don't know him well enough, but I trust your judgment." She paused, a sly smile playing on her lips. "What about you?"

Lilithe was caught off guard. "What do you mean?"

Jessamine leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Rogue seems quite taken with you. The way he looks at you, the way he's always nearby... It's obvious he's infatuated."

Lilithe's cheeks flushed slightly, though she tried to maintain her composure. "Jessamine, you truly are a mischievous woman."

Jessamine shrugged, her grin widening. "I merely observe. But if you won't entertain that topic, then do tell me about these rumors of a secret engagement with Bastien."

Lilithe's expression soured slightly. "Bastien and I are best friends. We always have been, and that's all there is to it. The only reason we haven't denied the rumors is because of the very problem I'm dealing with now."

Jessamine patted her hand reassuringly. "Cheer up, buttercup. We'll figure out who's behind this."

Lilithe smiled gratefully. "You've always been a good friend to me, Jessamine."

Jessamine smirked. "Aren't you lucky to have me in your life?" With a playful wink, she added, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to gloat to Lady Jupiter."

With a final mischievous look, Jessamine wiggled her eyebrows in Rogue's direction before taking her leave

Once Lilithe saw that her friend had disappeared back into the ballroom, she hooked her arm through Rogue's after slipping out of the ballroom.

The sounds of the party faded as they walked deeper into the garden. Rogue remained silent, as was his nature, but Lilithe could feel the comfort of his presence. His steady, unyielding support was something she had come to rely on, especially in moments like these.

"You don't have to stay with me, you know," Lilithe said softly, glancing up at him. "You could go enjoy the party."

Rogue's expression remained neutral, though there was a hint of something in his eyes—something that made her heart skip a beat. "My duty is to protect you."

"Duty," she echoed, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "Is that all it is?"

For a moment, there was silence between them. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, Rogue replied, "No. It's not."

Lilithe felt her breath catch, her heart pounding in her chest. She didn't know what to say, the weight of his words settling over her like a warm blanket. Before she could respond, Rogue gently squeezed her arm, his touch grounding her.

Lilithe led Rogue through the dimly lit corridors of the palace, her hand lightly resting on his arm. The celebration still echoed faintly behind them, but as they ventured deeper into the quieter parts of the palace, the noise faded into a distant murmur. Rogue followed her lead, his presence a steady anchor in the swirl of her thoughts. His dark attire blended seamlessly with the shadows, but his silver accents caught the occasional flicker of candlelight, making him seem almost otherworldly.

They came to a stop in front of a set of grand double doors, and with a small push, Lilithe opened them to reveal a vast, dimly lit chamber. The air inside was thick with the scent of aged fabric and polished wood, and the walls were lined with tapestries, each one telling the story of a king who had ruled before her.

"This," she began, her voice soft yet resonant in the quiet room, "is the Tapestry Room. Every ruler of Valentine is immortalized here, dating back to the first king."

Rogue's gaze swept across the room, taking in the impressive collection of woven portraits. Each tapestry depicted a young man, proud and regal, their faces framed by ornate borders. Small plaques beneath each tapestry bore the names, birth and death dates, and accomplishments of each king. Lilithe walked slowly along the wall, her eyes avoiding the tapestries as she spoke.

"When the crown is passed to the next in line, a new tapestry is commissioned. Only when a ruler passes do they add the plaque, to honor and remember their legacy."

Rogue followed her, his eyes lingering on each tapestry, but he was particularly drawn to one that seemed to resonate with an aura of strength and vitality. The man depicted was tall and muscular, dressed in a gleaming silver suit of armor. His unruly dark red hair was mostly hidden beneath a large crown, and a sheathed sword hung at his side. A black cloak was draped over his shoulders, and his dark blue eyes gleamed with the excitement of youth.

"Your father," Rogue murmured, recognizing the likeness from the description Lucy had given him.

"Yes," Lilithe confirmed, her voice tinged with a mix of pride and sorrow. "My father, King Octavius Reginald Valentine. He was crowned at the age of eighteen after his own father's sudden death. He was an honorable man, a just ruler who prided himself on being a great judge of character. He ruled with compassion but was unwavering when it came to justice and truth."

Rogue could hear the depth of her admiration and the weight of loss in her voice. He glanced at her, seeing the same dark blue eyes that the tapestry had captured, though Lilithe's held a maturity and sadness that her father's youthful gaze lacked.

Lilithe stopped in front of her father's tapestry, her hand brushing against the fabric as if seeking some connection to the past. "He was so young when he became king," she continued softly. "It's a cruel fate, the way the crown is often passed down in Valentine—at the cost of the predecessor's life, often far too soon."

Her voice wavered slightly, and Rogue's heart ached for her. He knew the burden of responsibility she carried, one that she had never truly desired. She had accepted the crown out of duty, not ambition, and the weight of that duty was evident in every word she spoke.

"He must have been a great king," Rogue said quietly, his gaze returning to the tapestry.

"He was," Lilithe agreed, a small, bittersweet smile touching her lips. "But the kingdom demanded more from him than just being a good man. They expected him to secure the future, to ensure stability by producing an heir."

Rogue frowned slightly, sensing the deeper implications of her words. "And now they expect the same from you."

Lilithe nodded, turning away from her father's tapestry and walking towards another. "In Valentine, tradition holds immense power. Every firstborn was male and wedded soon after ascending to the throne, as you can see by the tapestries. But I'm the first queen, and my unmarried status has caused... unrest. They fear for the future, for the stability of the kingdom."

She stopped in front of her own tapestry, which hung beside her father's. It was strikingly similar in style, yet the differences were profound. Lilithe was depicted in a pure white corseted gown, her hair intricately styled into an elegant bun. A large sterling silver tiara adorned her head, and her dark blue eyes held a deep sadness, even as her smile suggested otherwise. She wore the royal cloak, and a sword was tied at her waist, just like the kings before her.

Rogue studied the tapestry, noting how it captured her regal bearing, but not the true essence of the woman he had come to know. "It's beautiful," he said, though he felt the tapestry didn't do her justice. "But it doesn't capture your strength, your spirit."

Lilithe's gaze softened, and she turned to face him. "Thank you, Rogue. But this is how they see me—a symbol, a figurehead. Not a person with fears and desires of her own."

Her tone suggested that she didn't want to speak of this anymore, so he changed the subject. "It's hard for me to see you with someone else, even if it's just for show."

Lilithe's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Lord Bastien is my closest ally and childhood friend, nothing more. We might be engaged, but know that his heart belongs to a woman long gone. He entertains the idea only to ease the fears of the court."

Rogue nodded, understanding now that the situation was far more complicated than he had imagined. "I see."

Lilithe reached out, taking his hand in hers. "I want you to know that I appreciate your honesty. It means more to me than you realize."

Rogue's heart swelled with emotion, and he squeezed her hand gently. "Thank you, Lilithe."

For a moment, they stood in silence, the weight of their unspoken feelings hanging in the air. Then, in a sudden burst of playfulness, Rogue pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her waist. Lilithe let out a surprised gasp, her heart racing as she found herself pressed against his chest.

"What are you doing?" she asked, though her voice was more breathless than indignant.

Rogue grinned down at her, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "You said we should get back to the party, but I think we deserve a moment to ourselves first."

Before she could protest, he began to sway them gently to an imagined melody, his movements smooth and graceful. Lilithe's initial surprise melted into a warm smile, and she allowed herself to be swept up in the moment. She placed one hand on his shoulder, the other still entwined with his, and they danced together in the quiet room, the only witnesses being the kings in their immortalized tapestries around them.

As they moved, Lilithe couldn't help but be drawn to his eyes—those deep, captivating red eyes that held so much intensity and emotion. They were unlike any eyes she had ever seen, and they made her feel seen, truly seen, in a way that no one else ever had.

Rogue, too, was caught in the spell of the moment. The feel of her soft skin against his, the scent of strawberries and vanilla that clung to her, the way she moved so effortlessly in his arms—it was intoxicating. His inner dragon stirred, the primal part of him that wanted to claim her, to protect her, to cherish her. But he held it back, knowing that now was not the time. She deserved more than a fleeting moment of passion; she deserved a future built on trust and love.

They continued to dance, lost in each other's gaze, the world outside forgotten. The burdens of the crown, the weight of tradition, the fears of the future—all of it faded away in the warmth of their shared connection. For this brief, stolen moment, they were not a queen and her protector, but two souls finding solace in each other's arms.

Finally, Lilithe rested her head against his chest, her eyes closing as she let herself be held. "I wish we could stay like this forever," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Rogue tightened his hold on her, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head. "So do I, Lilithe. So do I."

They stayed like that for a while longer, simply enjoying the closeness, the comfort of being with someone who understood them. But eventually, Lilithe knew they had to return to the reality of their duties. With a reluctant sigh, she pulled back slightly, though she didn't let go of his hand.

"We should go back," she said softly, her voice tinged with regret.

Rogue nodded, though his hand remained firmly clasped around hers. "Yes. But know that I'll always be here for you, Lilithe. No matter what."

Lilithe smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her chest.

Lucy moved quietly down the dimly lit hallway, the soft silk of her nightgown brushing against her skin. Each step echoed in her mind, a painful reminder of the emptiness that had settled in her heart. When she reached Lilithe's door, she hesitated for a moment, her hand hovering just above the polished wood. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her emotions, but the ache inside was too much to bear.

With a soft knock, she waited, her heart pounding in her chest. The door opened, and Rogue stood there, his usually composed face softening when he saw her tear-streaked cheeks.

"Lucy," he said gently, his voice full of concern.

She sniffled, wiping at her eyes. "I need to talk to Lilithe," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Rogue nodded, stepping aside to let her in. "Of course."

As Lucy entered the room, she saw Lilithe still dressed in the elegant gown from the evening's ceremony, her posture relaxed but attentive. The firelight flickered across the room, casting warm, dancing shadows on the walls.

"Lucy?" Lilithe's voice was soft, laced with concern. "Is everything alright?"

Lucy shook her head, feeling the tears welling up again. "Can we talk? Alone?"

Lilithe glanced at Rogue, a silent exchange passing between them. Rogue gave a small bow, his eyes lingering on Lilithe before he turned and disappeared into the shadows, leaving the two women alone.

Lucy stood in the center of the room, her breath still uneven as she tried to regain control of her emotions. The warm glow from the fireplace cast flickering shadows on the walls, making the room feel both intimate and suffocating. Lilithe watched her with concern, the remnants of the evening's grandeur still clinging to her in the form of her elegant dress. But her usual composed demeanor faltered as she saw the pain etched across Lucy's face.

Lilithe gestured to the chaise near the fire, "Come, sit with me, Lucy."

Lucy hesitated for a moment before nodding. She walked over and sat down beside Lilithe, the soft fabric of the chaise comforting her slightly. But the weight of her emotions was still heavy on her chest.

Lilithe reached out and took Lucy's hand in hers, her touch gentle and reassuring. "Tell me what's troubling you, Lucy," she said softly.

Lucy took a deep breath, struggling to find the words. "I…I've been holding it together for so long, trying to be strong. But tonight, it just…everything came crashing down."

Tears welled up in her eyes again, and she fought to keep them at bay. "It's not just about Natsu, or the others leaving. It's everything. It's this constant feeling of being alone, of being lost. And no matter how much I try to move forward, I can't shake the feeling that something's missing, that I'm missing something important."

Lilithe's expression softened, her own heart aching for Lucy. "You've been through so much, Lucy. More than anyone should have to bear. And I know it feels like the world is crumbling around you, but you're not alone. I'm here, and I always have been."

Lucy looked up at Lilithe, confusion flickering in her eyes. "But I've been so distant from you. I didn't even know who you were until recently, and now…it feels like everything's changed."

Lilithe squeezed Lucy's hand, her voice steady but filled with emotion. "That was never your fault, Lucy. When your memories were erased, it wasn't just you who lost something precious. I did too. I've watched over you from afar, always hoping you'd find your way back to the truth. But it was never easy for me, either."

Her gaze grew distant as she remembered the past. "When we made the decision to erase your memories, it was to protect you. To give you a chance at a life free from the burdens of your past. But it came at a cost. I lost my sister, and I couldn't be there for you the way I wanted to. I could only watch from the shadows, hoping you'd find happiness, hoping you'd find your way back to us."

Lucy's tears flowed freely now, the pain in her chest intensifying. "I've felt so lost, Lilithe. I've been fighting to find where I belong, to find the family I thought I lost. And now, knowing that you were there all along…it hurts. It hurts because I didn't know, and because I couldn't be there for you either."

Lilithe pulled Lucy into a tight embrace, her own tears falling silently. "I know, Lucy. I know. And I'm so sorry for all the pain you've had to endure. If I could have spared you from any of it, I would have. But you're here now, and we have each other. We can face whatever comes next together."

They held each other for a long moment, the warmth of the fire a stark contrast to the cold fear that had gripped both of their hearts for so long. Finally, Lilithe pulled back slightly, wiping the tears from Lucy's cheeks.

"We're both afraid and lost, Lucy," she admitted. "I've been afraid too. Afraid of what might happen, afraid of losing you again. But I've learned that we can't let that fear control us. We have to be strong for each other, even when it feels impossible."

Lucy nodded, her heart swelling with a mixture of sorrow and relief. "You're right. We can't do this alone. I need you, Lilithe. I need my sister."

"And I need you, Lucy," Lilithe whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "More than you know."

As the warmth of the fire cast flickering shadows across the room, the silence between Lucy and Lilithe became more comforting than heavy. It was a silence filled with understanding, a shared moment of solace that neither of them had realized how much they needed. The crackling of the logs in the hearth seemed to echo the unspoken words between them, words of reassurance and renewed hope.

Lilithe, sensing the shift in the mood, leaned back in her chair, letting out a soft sigh. "It's been so long since I've felt like this," she murmured, almost to herself. "At peace, I mean."

Lucy, still holding onto Lilithe's hand, smiled softly. "Me too," she admitted. "I didn't realize how much I missed... just being close to someone who understands."

Lilithe nodded, her gaze distant as she stared into the fire. "We've both been through so much, Lucy. But I think... I think we're finally on the other side of it."

Lucy stood up and moved to Lilithe's side, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. "Let me help you out of this dress," she offered, sensing that the weight of the evening was beginning to take its toll on her. "You deserve to be comfortable."

Lilithe smiled gratefully, allowing Lucy to assist her. As Lucy carefully began to unlace the back of the intricate gown, she couldn't help but notice the exhaustion in Lilithe's posture, the way her shoulders sagged as the tight fabric was gradually loosened.

"You looked beautiful tonight," Lucy said softly, working her way down the dress. "But I know how tiring these events can be."

"Thank you," Lilithe replied, her voice laced with gratitude. "It's all part of the role, I suppose. But it feels good to be myself again."

Once the dress was fully unlaced, Lucy helped Lilithe slip out of it, revealing the simple undergarments beneath. Lilithe sighed in relief, finally free from the constraining fabric. She stepped out of the dress, and Lucy carefully laid it over a nearby chair.

"Let's get this makeup off too," Lucy suggested, grabbing a soft cloth and some cleanser from the vanity. "You shouldn't have to carry the weight of the crown even in moments like these."

Lilithe chuckled softly as she sat down, allowing Lucy to gently wipe away the layers of makeup. "You're right. It's nice to let go of it all, even if just for a little while."

As Lucy carefully removed the makeup, she noticed Lilithe's eyes flickering with something unspoken. "What's on your mind?" Lucy asked, sensing there was more her sister wanted to share.

Lilithe hesitated for a moment before speaking. "I've been thinking about the dragon slayers," she began, her tone thoughtful. "About Rogue... and about Sting."

Lucy felt her cheeks warm at the mention of Sting's name. "Sting?" she echoed, trying to sound casual. "What about him?"

Lilithe gave her a knowing smile. "He cares for you, Lucy. Deeply."

The blush on Lucy's cheeks deepened as she focused on wiping away the last traces of makeup from Lilithe's face. "You think so?"

"I don't just think so, I know so," Lilithe said with a gentle laugh. "Sting might be strong and fierce, but when it comes to you, Lucy, he's... different. Softer. You bring out something in him that I don't think he shows to many people."

Lucy's heart fluttered at Lilithe's words. "But… do you really think he sees me that way? I mean, he's always been kind, but…"

Lilithe reached out, placing a hand over Lucy's. "We both know that he is taken with you," she said softly. "The way he looks at you, it's different. And it's not just because of your strength or your beauty. He sees who you are inside, Lucy. And I think he's fallen for that."

Lucy felt a mix of emotions swirling inside her—hope, excitement, but also fear. "I don't know," she murmured, looking down. "After everything that's happened, I'm not sure if I'm ready to let someone in again."

Lilithe gently lifted Lucy's chin, meeting her gaze. "It's okay to be scared," she said. "But it's also okay to hope. You don't have to decide anything right now, but don't close yourself off to the possibility of happiness. You deserve it."

Lucy nodded, feeling a sense of comfort in Lilithe's words. "What about you and Rogue?" she asked, changing the subject slightly as she reached for Lilithe's jewelry, beginning to carefully remove each piece.

Lilithe's expression softened at the mention of Rogue. "He's… complicated," she admitted. "But in a good way. We understand each other, and he's always been there for me, even when I didn't realize how much I needed someone. He's strong, but he's also gentle when it matters most. And I think that's why I... care for him so much."

Lucy smiled as she carefully removed Lilithe's earrings. "Sounds like he's good for you."

"He is," Lilithe agreed, her voice warm. "And I think we're good for each other. But like you said, it's still scary. Letting someone in, trusting them… it's not easy."

Lucy nodded in understanding, placing the last piece of jewelry on the vanity. "But maybe it's worth it," she said softly.

Lilithe looked up at her, a gentle smile playing on her lips. "Maybe it is," she agreed.

The two woman shared a quiet moment, their bond stronger than ever as they helped each other shed the burdens of the past and look toward the future. The fear and uncertainty were still there, lingering at the edges of their hearts, but now, with each other's support, they both allowed themselves to hope—just a little bit more.

And as they settled into the comfort of each other's presence, Lucy realized that, no matter what lay ahead, she wouldn't have to face it alone. Neither of them would.

Lucy found herself unable to sleep as she tossed and turned in her bed. The night was unusually quiet, the only sound being the faint rustle of leaves outside her window. The moonlight cast a soft glow through the curtains, and despite the calmness of the night, Lucy's mind was restless. Thoughts of the day's events, of the missions and battles, swirled in her head, and she couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled in her chest.

Finally, she gave up on trying to sleep. Throwing off the covers, she slipped out of bed and quietly padded across the cold wooden floor. She hesitated for a moment, glancing back at her bed, but the nagging feeling in her heart urged her forward. She needed comfort, and there was only one person she could think of who could provide it.

Lucy found herself standing outside Sting's room, her hand hovering over the door handle. Her heart raced, not from fear, but from the anticipation of what she was about to do. Taking a deep breath, she gently pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The room was dimly lit by the moonlight filtering through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the furniture. Sting lay on his bed, his breathing steady and deep as he slept. The sight of him, so peaceful and calm, eased the tension in Lucy's chest.

She quietly closed the door behind her and walked over to the bed. For a moment, she simply stood there, watching him. Sting's blonde hair was tousled, and his face was relaxed, a stark contrast to the fierce expression he often wore during the day. He looked so vulnerable in sleep, and it made Lucy's heart ache with affection.

Without making a sound, she lifted the edge of the blanket and slipped into bed beside him. The mattress dipped slightly under her weight, but Sting didn't stir. She positioned herself close to him, her body fitting perfectly against his. The warmth of his presence immediately soothed her, and she let out a quiet sigh of relief.

Lucy carefully placed her head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The sound was comforting, like a lullaby that eased the storm in her mind. She felt his arm instinctively wrap around her, pulling her closer even in his sleep. The simple act of being held, of being close to him, made all her worries fade away.

For a few moments, Lucy simply lay there, letting the warmth of Sting's body seep into her. She felt safe, protected, as if nothing in the world could harm her as long as she was in his arms. It was a feeling she hadn't realized she had been craving until this very moment.

Sting stirred slightly, his arm tightening around her as he woke up just enough to register her presence. He murmured her name, his voice thick with sleep, and Lucy felt a rush of affection for him.

"Lucy…?" he mumbled, his eyes barely opening as he glanced down at her.

"Shh," she whispered, placing a gentle finger on his lips. "It's okay, Sting. Go back to sleep."

He didn't question her, didn't ask why she was there. Instead, he simply pulled her closer, burying his face in her hair as he relaxed back into the bed. His hand rested on the small of her back, holding her in place as if he was afraid she might disappear.

Lucy closed her eyes, her body finally relaxing as she nestled into his embrace. The steady rise and fall of his chest beneath her, the warmth of his skin against hers, the gentle rhythm of his breathing—it was all she needed to find the peace that had eluded her earlier.

As sleep began to overtake her, Lucy whispered softly, "Thank you, Sting."

He didn't respond, already drifting back into the depths of sleep, but Lucy knew he understood.

He always did.

With a contented sigh, Lucy allowed herself to finally let go. In Sting's arms, she found the solace she had been seeking, and within moments, she too was fast asleep, the worries of the world forgotten in the quiet embrace of the night.