The velvet weight of Maximus's realm was gone. So was the heat of Vitaria's hands. In their place: cool twilight, flickering fireflies, and the quiet hum of my magic woven into Arbor's bones. Her hand was still in mine. Warm. Steady. But something in her posture had shifted, shoulders loose, gaze softer. Her steps slowed, not tired, just… settled. Like the curtain had closed on a play no one else realized had been for her. I didn't say a word. Just guided her through the familiar halls with reverent fingertips, my eyes flicking back to her every few steps like I had to confirm she was still there. Still glowing. Still mine.
Arbor listened. Adjusted. The bathroom was already warm when we reached it, golden candlelight spilling across tile, eucalyptus curling through the air, steam rising from the rainfall shower. She stood at the edge, still wrapped in the strip of black silk she'd claimed like a trophy. The rune glowing across her abdomen had dimmed, no longer fire but embers. Quiet, steady embers. I stepped up behind her, fingers brushing the knot of silk. I undid it slowly, carefully, like prayer. "You were beautiful," I murmured, voice low as the candlelight. "Terrifying. Glorious."
She turned. Smiled. Not a smirk. Not armor. A real smile. Small. Certain. That was all it took. I pulled my shirt over my head and let it fall, then stepped with her into the shower. The water hit her first. She tilted her head back, eyes closed, curls clinging wet to her face like spilled ink on marble. I dropped to my knees behind her, pressing my lips to the curve of her hip where Maximus's priests had carved their excess. Not biting, not taking. Just steady, lingering, whispering between every kiss: "Not theirs. Not theirs. Yours."
She trembled once, then stilled, her hand threading into my hair, and I knew she understood. I kissed lower, along the cruel lines etched into her, each one turned sacred by her survival. I worshipped the curve of her body like holy ground, not for what it gave, but for what it had endured. Then I moved higher. Her stomach. Her womb. Vitaria's mark. The place they had tried to turn into a vessel, a symbol, a claim. I pressed my lips softly there, breath breaking against her skin. "This was never theirs to touch," I whispered between kisses. "Not even mine. Only yours. Always yours."
She inhaled, sharp and shaking, but didn't pull away. My lips lingered, reverent. Worshipful. Not lust. Not hunger. Just love. Just defiance. Just remembrance.
"I need you to know," I said, my voice too thick, "I'm proud of you. Not because of what you did. But because of who you are."
Her eyes opened. She signed back, I'm okay. Really. I wanted it.
"I know," I whispered.
Her hand rose, thumb brushing beneath my eye. You're quiet.
A crooked smile tugged at me. "Just thinking."
About what?
I hesitated, then let it out: "How the gods keep touching you like they deserve you."
Her breath caught. I stepped closer, brushed my knuckles along her jaw. "But I'm the one who gets to stay."
Her eyes shifted, something breaking open, but not from pain. Understanding. I kissed her. Not like a god. Not like chaos. Like a man who had already chosen her, and would choose her again, endlessly. When we broke apart, she rested her forehead against my chest, arms wrapping around me with soft trust. I held her like she was an answer.
"I'll follow you anywhere," I whispered into the steam. "But if this ends… if it becomes something bigger than us, promise me you'll come back."
She didn't sign. Didn't speak. Just nodded once. It was enough.
Later, after the candles had burned down to puddles and the steam faded into memory, we crawled into bed without ceremony. No crowns. No illusions. Just limbs tangled under sheets. Her damp hair spilled across my chest, her leg thrown over my hip. My arm curled around her like I was holding gravity. She was half-asleep when I whispered, "I'm still mad about the dress…"
Her shoulders sagged in a silent sigh. I smiled into her hair. "You broke theology in that thing."
She mumbled something incoherent against my skin. I closed my eyes. We didn't talk about Maximus. Or Vitaria. Or power. Not tonight. Tonight she was just Annie. I was just hers. For one breath, one heartbeat, one night, It felt like the world might actually let us stay that way.