The war room was far behind them, a world away. In their private chamber, the fire in the hearth cast a soft, warm glow that danced across the stone walls. Damon sat in a high-backed chair, the day's last light fading from the window as he read through a stack of letters from his new allies. The weight of his responsibilities was heavy, etched into the lines of his face.
Isolde was curled on a plush bench nearby, a leather-bound book resting in her lap. The words on the page were a fictional world, a romance between a knight and a lady, but a particular passage seized her attention. The lady, lamenting a lack of affection, was told by a friend, "He has never made a move on you, so he must not truly love you or find you attractive." Isolde's eyes scanned the words again, and a cold seed of doubt, foreign to her, began to sprout.
She looked from the book to her husband. Damon's brow was furrowed in concentration, his gaze fixed on the endless letters. His relief at their safety had been a quiet, sober thing. The passion of the last night had been a brief escape, and now he was back in the world of war. Isolde, a woman of deep emotions, was not a soldier. She was a woman who needed to feel her husband's love, not just know it.
Acting on an impulse she couldn't explain, she closed her book and walked over to his chair. She settled herself into his lap, her hand reaching for his shirt.
Damon looked up, startled, his focus broken. As he looked at her, his eyes fell to the book in her hand. It was open to the page she had just read. His gaze moved from the words to her face, where a tear fell and traced a path down her cheek.
"It's just that..." she whispered, her voice cracking with a quiet despair, "you are so far away. Even when you are here. I feel as though the man I love is a ghost, and the man who sits before me... he doesn't know me anymore."
He understood. He gently took the book from her hand and placed it on the floor. He rose, lifting her gently into his arms as he did so, carrying her to the bed. He laid her down, and for a long moment, he simply looked at her, his gaze a silent promise.
"Isolde," he said, his voice a low, steady murmur. "My love for you is not in my hands, but in my heart. Every battle, every council, every victory, it was for you.
Then they have intimate relationship
.Yay i guess.