Song vibe: Take Two – BTS

  __________

  NOCTURNE

  The Solar, Firestone Castle

  Candlelight slid across Saphira’s skin, and for the first time, Nocturne envied the flame. He reached for his cup, though the taste slid past unnoticed.

  The more restraint I need to show, the closer I feel to losing it. He set his cup aside. I’ll be as sober as possible, so every second is burned into my memory. Leaning forward, elbows on the table, he watched her lips as she spoke. Something good to cling to while everything goes to shit in Lux.

  He refilled her cup with the dark, fragrant wine, only to find her watching him—eyebrow raised, as though she were waiting for something more than his silence.

  “You seem…distracted,” Saphira murmured at last, lifting the last spoonful of berries and cream to her mouth, letting it linger on her lips.

  “The opposite,” Nocturne said, sliding his dish toward her. “Take mine.”

  “You’d spoil me.” Her eyes sparkled as she pushed her empty plate before him. “Strange—you’ve already finished yours. And I thought you didn't like sweets."

  His laugh rumbled low, warmth breaking through his restraint.

  Hundreds of meals taken at this table, always with maps and reports, never a woman—only her. His attention fixed on her with the same focus he carried into battle—as the firelight caught the edge of her cheekbone, her bare neck, the silk at her waist.

  His gaze shifted to the locked door of his inner chamber. Tonight, I’ll open it up to her—the first woman to enter. He held his breath. If she wants that.

  Above: "What has your full attention, my Lord?"

  “May I ask—” her lips curved, a delightful pink that seemed to do nothing but tease him all evening. “—what has your full attention, my Lord?”

  “You."

  “Truly?” She studied the hard lines of his expression, the scar that refused to soften. “I... guess I believe you... but only because this whole dinner, you haven’t looked at Shadowrend once.”

  Nocturne stilled. His sword leaned forgotten against the side table, its black steel catching only scraps of firelight, beside it, the keys to Firestone. His hand flexed on the stem of his cup. Almighty, what is she doing to me?

  When he looked back at her, there was no mockery in her purple eyes—only quiet wonder.

  “You make me forget myself,” he admitted.

  “Good.” The tension in her shoulders eased. She started on his dessert with a self-satisfied hum. “You deserve a space of rest… from it all.”

  “They say I’m a hopeless Count, master of a crumbling fortress.” His hand tightened over the table’s edge. “Tell me, Saphira—what do you say?”

  “I’ve never seen a Lord work harder than you do. Most wouldn’t stain their hands with blood, not even for their own people.” She slowed, pushing the stewed berries around her plate before taking a hesitant bite. “But even so… we’d all rest easier if Firestone looked a little less like a battlefield.”

  “I know.” His fingers raked through his hair, pushing it back from his face. “My whole childhood was caves, smugglers, ‘spawn at the door. Marble floors weren’t a dream—a floor that stayed dry was.”

  Her laugh broke the heaviness between them, light and unguarded.

  She then paused. “Wait…you’re serious?”

  “If you think I’m exaggerating, ask August. He still complains about the mud.” His voice softened. “But for you? We’ll pave this castle with gold.”

  “It’s… not about decadence.” She hesitated, taking a slow sip of wine. “You don’t need Fiorenzi marble or Luxian walnut. It’s about dignity.” She shrugged lightly, though her voice did not lose its intensity. “Father always said the mountain region was wasted—timber and marble untapped, trade roads unpatrolled. Being this close to Renatus, I’d wager if you dug—”

  Nocturne leaned back, watching her as the ideas spilled from her with quiet conviction. I had anticipated her comfort, perhaps pity. But not sharpness, not a vision. She moved with a restless energy, every gesture alive as she spoke. Not so much a sheltered bride anymore, but a woman who sees the bones of Firestone clearer than I do.

  “You sound as if you’ve thought of this before,” he said slowly.

  “I’ve walked the halls enough.” Her expression remained steady and unflinching. “You’ve carried Firestone with your sword. Let me carry it in other ways—ways you can’t.” Her voice gentled. “So that when people look at this castle, they don’t see shadows—they see the man I see.”

  More dangerous than a blade, her words. He felt his shoulders tense, the weight so constant he could not recall when it first settled there. I’m a weapon—nothing more. And yet she speaks as though I were a better man.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  He looked about his Solar: the banners blackened with smoke, candlewax hardened in long drips down iron sconces, the long table scarred by years of knives and spilled wine. His chest constricted. Firestone could be more. I could be more.

  He turned to her slowly, yielding ground he had never ceded to anyone. “Take some of the weight off my shoulders. Create something we can both be proud of.”

  A tiny smirk played on her lips.

  Fye. I want to kiss that smug mouth.

  “As you wish, my Lord,” was all she said.

  “Good. Now…” He pushed his cup aside. “Let’s sit by the fire.”

  He rose with her, steadying her hand as she gathered her skirts, then led her to the fireplace. The flames threw their glow across the stone, their shadows flickering along the carved beams.

  Nocturne settled beside her, his arm resting along the back of the couch. Heat rolled from the fire, but it was her nearness he felt most, her scent—violet and rose oil—threading through cedar smoke.

  She leaned back into him, the light painting her hair in lavender and gold. He watched her in silence, his world slowed to a single point as if she were his battlefield. He let his hand drop, steady on her slim shoulder, drawing her close.

  Saphira’s breath hitched; she stiffened for a heartbeat, then let herself rest fully into the nook of his arm.

  She’s chosen me. His thumb brushed up her arm. He felt the skin prickle under his touch. She feels it too. Good.

  He moved along, running his fingers over her shoulder, feeling the rough skin of her dragon's claw scar underneath.

  She flinched.

  "Does it...hurt?"

  "No. It's just...ugly."

  "I'll help you learn to love it," he murmured, smoothing his thumb over her skin, feeling only the thin apricot silk between them. "Your first real scar."

  "Not as many as you." She paused, her voice softening as her fingers fiddled with August's amulet at her wrist. "Can you tell me about your upbringing, Nocturne? You've so many scars—it’s hard to know what stories are true and what's some bard trying to entertain.”

  His expression barely shifted, though a wry edge touched his mouth. “Well—everyone has heard of the smuggler who adopted me.”

  Her brows rose. “Not the Smuggler King? He raised you?"

  “Aye.” His voice was dry. “Zephyr the Invisible. The Uncatchable. Lord of Hell Leopards.” His smile carried no humour. “To me, he was just the man who found a half-starved newborn in a spawnpit.” He paused, voice dropping. “My mother died there. He never spoke of her. Nor my father.”

  Saphira’s hand tightened on her skirt. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “It’s not too bad,” he deflected, the wound softened only by the warmth of Saphira by his side.

  All I know is she had my hair. His jaw clenched. The rest was ‘spawn and steel. By five, my first kill with an arrow. By seven, a spear. By fourteen, I realised hunting ‘spawn paid better than smuggling.

  He glanced at her, a shadow of amusement tugging at his lips. “August joined me at fifteen. Then Felix. We were just boys—and we killed a spawnlord. Krug.” His mouth curved humourlessly. “By accident, if you believe it.”

  Her lips parted. “Only you would manage that.”

  He let out a hollow laugh, giving neither denial nor pride. That was the birth of the Ashen Blades—and the beginning of the end of me and Zephyr. His hand rose, touching the old scar from a piercing no longer worn. Zeph never forgave me for stealing his niece. His tongue pressed against his teeth, the bitterness rising. And yet, he sided with her—even when he knew what she’d done to me.

  Saphira sat steady at his side, lavender hair brushing his arm, violet eyes fixed on him as though nothing else in the world mattered. He found his finger tracing over her collarbone. He had not planned the gesture, but he felt her pulse leap beneath his touch, daring him closer.

  Six months I left Saphira, chasing Golgog, and still she waited. His finger traced up her neck and across her jawline. She had no word from me, yet she kept faithful. Carried our child alone, hiding his existence when it would have been easier to rid herself of him. His finger moved to her side, where he tucked a lock of hair back. Fye—she’s given me more loyalty in half a year than I ever had from any woman.

  He drew a long breath, then reached for the side table. The ring of keys clinked softly as he set them in her palm.

  “This is yours,” he murmured. “The keys to Firestone. Keep them safe while I’m gone.”

  His hand hovered, then brushed over the worn bronze key that stood out from the rest. “This one opens my chamber. Use it whenever you want.” His voice roughened. “All I’ve guarded is yours.”

  The weight of the keys made her fingers tremble. She brought the keys up to her heart and held them tight. “I thought you’d never ask,” she whispered, her thumb tracing reverently over the bronze.

  For a heartbeat, he only stared down at her, chest tight, the choice burning through him. The key glinting against the curve of her breast lit a hunger he had buried too long. Now, I’ve resisted her long enough—one indulgence, and no more.

  His hand rose, fingers brushing along her jaw, tilting her face up. She did not flinch. Her eyes held steady, luminous in the glow, giving him silent leave.

  He bent, slow and deliberate, every inch closing a gap he had sworn to keep.

  When his mouth found hers, it was deliberate—measured, a man reining himself in with iron will. His lips lingered, his heat straining against restraint; her sweetness tangled with the sharp tang of drink.

  Then, her hand rested on his thigh, possessing him with a quiet certainty, as though she had chosen exactly where she wanted him most.

  For a single heartbeat, he lost it—his hand tightened at her jaw, his mouth pressing harder, hunger breaking through as he deepened the kiss. The rush of it scorched him, dangerous and all-consuming.

  Above: "I've resisted her long enough".

  Fye, Nox, she's just lost our baby, and now you'll share her bed and go off again?

  He wrenched himself back before it could swallow him whole, his lips inches from hers. His thumb traced the flush he had left behind, committing the moment to memory.

  “Almighty,” he rasped, forcing the control over his body, “you’re intoxicating.”

  “And you’re... quite bold, my Lord.” Her lashes fluttered as she leaned into his touch.

  “Bold would be taking more than I can handle.” His voice roughened. “And I want to.”

  She drew in a soft breath, her eyes wide and steady on his. The dip of her dress, her thighs pressed against his, the taste of berries still on her lips—everything about her dared him closer.

  Then, Nocturne forced himself to rise, breaking the pull before it consumed him. He caught her hand in his, steadying her as she rose with him.

  “Come,” he said. “Let’s retire for the night—together.” He kissed her hand, emphasising the next words for her sake, “All I want is to hold you until morning. Nothing more.”

  “I'd like that,” she whispered, “because when morning comes, I’ll know this wasn’t only a dream.”

  At the chamber door, her fingers lingered on the bronze key before she turned it in the lock. He pushed the handle and held the door open for her.

  From this door on, Firestone is ours. He placed his hand on her lower back, guiding her in. If I’m to surrender, let it be to her.

  Then, he let her step inside first.

  ?? If you held the keys to Firestone, what would you change first? What do you think Saphira should fix first?