The Fountain Pavilion at midnight lay quiet as a painting, its waters rippling silver in the moonlight. Evelyn and Lucien sat side by side on a stone bench, candlelight flickering around them, casting light on their weary yet resolute faces. They had just handled the silver market counterfeiting case and raided the Night Voice Winery, dismantling the latest plots of old nobles and undercurrents within the Holy See. The palace knew no peace even at midnight.
Leaning against Lucien, Evelyn traced his hand clasping the scepter, murmuring: "You kept watch for me last night and rode to West Ridge this morning. I fear you haven't had a moment to breathe." Her voice held concern and reluctance. Lucien kissed her forehead gently: "Your Highness's safety outweighs all. I'd brave any danger for you. When the storm passes, I'll defend you until my last breath."
Evelyn looked up, the deep night reflecting in her clear eyes as a flicker of hesitation passed through them. She looped an arm around his neck, undoing the embroidered clasp at his chest: "I need you, and I need someone to shield me when my royal power shakes the Holy See." Her lips parted, but her voice dropped to a whisper: "But do you know how much this heart can bear after facing the undercurrents?"
Lucien took a deep breath, pulling her closer as he spoke low and tender: "As long as you fear nothing, I fear nothing. If you decide to march on, I'll walk with you until the dawn of victory."
Eyes closed, Evelyn leaned in, her breath steadying. She instead took the initiative, circling her arms around his neck to undo the last clasp of his cape, revealing his firm shoulders and broad chest. Moonlight lit the faint muscle lines etched by day-and-night toil, and she smiled: "Then let me unarm you—not for war, but for us."
Lucien paused, captivated by her expression, then smiled in reply. He helped her sit on the stone bench and unfastened the light armor straps at her waist. Her robe slipped off, baring her jade-like neck and snow-white back. She turned sideways, moonlight and candlelight weaving a faint glow across her skin.
Lucien's hands brushed down her spine, fingertips searching beneath her muscles to wipe away lingering fatigue. He bent to kiss her neck, murmuring: "Your Highness, no state affairs tonight. Let me play the gentlest melody for you."
Evelyn embraced his neck, pressing her lips to his ear: "Then let me feel how your tenderness defends me from every storm."
He kissed her, blending fire and tenderness on their tongues. Evelyn responded with delicate, passionate touches, her fingers slipping under his tunic to feel his heat and strength. They moved to the brocade couch in the pavilion's corner, where silk and quilts fell away, weaving their most intimate vows.
Enraptured, Lucien laid Evelyn gently on the couch. Candlelight reddened their bare skin as his fingers and lips, like the most skilled artist, traced her curves and longings. She trembled under his warm touch, her gasps rising like a nightingale's song and a holy hymn. Each embrace made her feel an unprecedented sense of safety and belonging.
As the night deepened, the fountain's murmur grew clearer, and the chirping of insects seemed to accompany them. Evelyn's fingers dug into Lucien's back, her body rising and falling with desire. He guided her gently yet firmly to climax, protecting her as she transformed all worries and challenges into a passionate release.
As the afterglow of desire faded into the night, Lucien held Evelyn close, stroking her back: "In this windy night, remember that no matter how turbulent the world grows, my heart stands still for you."
Resting her head on his chest, Evelyn's heartbeat slowed in his strong arms as she whispered: "With you by my side, I fear nothing—even if the storm rises again at dawn."
In the Fountain Pavilion, where night and vows intertwined, their figures became the warmest vision and would stand as the capital's steadiest lighthouse in the storm's eye.