There was a soft rustle. Barely more than a whisper.
Noir stirred beneath the covers, blinking against the soft morning light that snuck past the pale curtains and kissed her face. Her breathing, slow and steady, faltered for just a second as she woke.
She didn't move all at once—just slowly shifted, the way someone does when they're still halfway between sleep and thought. Her eyes opened—icy blue, sharp despite the hour—and then she turned to look at him.
And paused.
He was already awake.
Watching her.
But not with the cold, indifferent stare she'd grown used to over the past year. Not that stiff, polite look he always wore like a mask.
No—there was something else in his eyes.
Warmth.
It threw her off more than she'd like to admit.
Her instincts kicked in. She met his gaze without hesitation, because that's what she was trained to do. Don't flinch. Don't back down. You're a Pendragon. You look people in the eye, even when you want to disappear.
But he wasn't challenging her.
He wasn't looking at her like a wife or a duchess or Arthur's sister.
He was just… looking.
Like he was seeing her for the very first time.
And in a way, he was.
To him, she wasn't a name on a royal scroll or a symbol of alliance. She wasn't just the emperor's sister or a title he'd been forced to claim.
She was—beautiful.
He didn't know people like her existed. Not in the world he came from. Not with that kind of quiet elegance, like she was made of moonlight and frost. Her white hair was tangled softly across the pillow, her skin almost glowing in the morning light, and those eyes—those sharp, impossible eyes—looked like they could cut straight through him.
Klein's memories told him the basics. Who she was. What she meant. That careful way she held herself. That distance. That silence. A marriage in name, cold and quiet, built for politics—not affection.
And yet, here she was.
And here he was.
And something unfamiliar stirred in his chest.
Not lust. Not fear. Just… something warm. Something new.
He didn't have a name for it.
But it was real.
And for the first time in a long time—maybe ever—he let himself feel it.
He didn't care if he was the "real" Klein or not. That version of him—whatever he was—had wasted something precious.
He wouldn't do the same.
He wouldn't treat her like she was nothing.
Unless she gave him a reason to, he'd try.
He'd be decent. Gentle, if he could be. Honest, if she allowed it.
And maybe—just maybe—he'd figure out what this life could be.
He didn't even realize he'd drifted off in thought until her voice broke the silence.
"Good morning," she said quietly. Calm. Almost… tentative.
He hadn't expected it.
He just kept looking at her.
Too long.
But instead of fumbling, he smiled.
A real one.
It felt weird on his face—like something he'd forgotten how to do. But not bad.
"Good morning, dear," he said, voice soft and low. "Did you sleep well?"
That flicker in her eyes—he noticed it.
Not fear. Just surprise.
Her expression didn't shift much, but he caught the smallest movement. Her head tilted. Her brow lifted, ever so slightly.
"I did," she replied. "Thank you."
That was new.
The old him never asked.
She watched him a moment longer, then sat up slowly, pulling the covers with her like a cloak. Everything about her movement was controlled, elegant—second nature. She didn't need to think about it. She was born for this life.
But there was something different in her gaze now.
Like she was studying him the same way he'd been studying her.
He was taller than her by a lot—always had been. 1.90 to her 1.60. A difference that once might've made her wary, even behind closed doors. She'd called him "formidable" once. He remembered that.
Now, she wasn't sure what to call him.
He looked the same.
But he didn't feel the same.
Something in him had changed.
He seemed… present. Awake, in a way he'd never been before.
And for the first time in a year of cold silence and formal nods, the stillness between them didn't feel like distance.
It felt like something starting.