Elvira was half-asleep in Anson's arms, her body sore from the weight of the gown, the jewelry, the emotions. The silky fabric clung to her skin in places, and the corset-style bodice had left faint impressions along her back. She stirred slightly, shifting with a soft wince, her brows furrowing.
Anson noticed immediately—even through the haze of sleep. His voice was low, husky from slumber."You're not comfortable, are you?"
She mumbled something nearly incoherent, but it was enough. He gently helped her sit up, brushing her hair back from her face.
"You're still in this... queen-level armor," he muttered with a smile, nodding to the elaborate gown.
With a tenderness that didn't match his usual snark, he slowly began to loosen the buttons and clasps at the back. Each movement was careful, unhurried. Reverent. He paused often, watching her face to make sure she was okay with it. This wasn't desire. This was care.
When the dress finally slipped from her shoulders and pooled around her waist, he grabbed one of his soft linen shirts and gently slipped it over her arms like she was made of glass. It smelled like him—warm, woodsy, safe.
"There," he whispered, pulling her back into bed. "Now you're perfect."
She didn't reply. But the way she melted against his chest with a relieved sigh said more than words ever could.
The morning light streamed through the sheer curtains, soft and gold. It spilled across tangled sheets and warm skin, casting the whole room in something dreamlike.
Elvira woke slowly, blinking against the light. Her cheek rested against something firm, warm—and moving. A steady breath. A heartbeat.
Anson.
His arm was wrapped around her waist, his chest rising and falling beneath her fingers like he was anchoring her to the moment. His hair was still damp from the night before, curling slightly at the ends. The scent of his shampoo lingered—clean, faintly woodsy, and so deeply him.
Her heart clenched.
She remembered.
The way she'd stirred in discomfort. His soft voice. His steady hands at the back of the dress, unclasping it with something close to reverence. The way he'd murmured, "I've got you," as he slid the sleeves down her arms. How he'd wrapped her in his shirt and tucked her back into his arms like nothing mattered more.
She flushed at the memory.
Elvira shifted slightly, burying her face in his chest, hoping he wouldn't wake and immediately start teasing her—
Too late.
Anson stirred beneath her, letting out a groggy sound before cracking one eye open. The second he saw her face—already flushed—he grinned.
"Morning, Your Highness," he rasped. "Sleep well? Or were you too busy dreaming about your knight in oversized sleepwear?"
She swatted his chest. "Shut up. You were the one playing wardrobe assistant at 2 a.m."
He laughed, the sound vibrating under her cheek."You're welcome. Honestly? I deserve a medal for not combusting on the spot." He leaned in, voice dipping low. "You in my shirt? Definitely going in the archives."
"Anson."
"What? Just facts." He pressed a soft kiss to her temple. "You're the cutest little runaway bride I've ever undressed."
She groaned into his shoulder.
"I hate you."
"You don't." His fingers laced with hers. And she didn't—not even a little.
A few moments passed, quiet and comfortable. Then Elvira whispered, "I heard what you said last night. When you thought I was asleep."
Anson blinked. "You did?"
She nodded slowly. "You said you'd wait. That I didn't have to run."
He stared at her, the teasing gone. "And I meant every word."
"I know," she said. "That's why I could finally sleep."
A beat passed.
"I'm scared," she confessed. "Still. Of being touched and then discarded. Of being adored one moment and forgotten the next. Of giving everything and having nothing left."
He tilted her chin gently so she'd meet his gaze."Elvira. I'm not going anywhere. I'm not here for your body. I'm here for all of you. Your mind. Your silence. Your storms."
Her throat tightened. "Even if I can't… go further yet?"
Anson smiled, brushing his thumb along her jaw."Then we won't. Not until you're ready. No pressure. No timelines. Just… us."
Her eyes shimmered. "You're too good to me."
He kissed her, softly. Slowly. Reverently. Like she was a vow he was keeping.
Then, pulling her close, he whispered into her hair:"You're worth waiting for."
Elvira's life felt like it was finally coming together but at least that's what she thought