Married To Darkness-Chapter 503: Now the needless

"Then by midday," he said with a calm, predatory finality, "we will find needles."

She stared at him, realizing he wasn’t joking. The idea of her art etched into his skin, a permanent claim, sent a shiver of heat through her. "You’re serious."

"Completely." He smiled—a slow, pleased curve of his lips.

"What would you even want?" she asked, setting her brush down and turning her body to his. "What could I possibly draw that would be worthy of you?"

"Something that is mine," he replied, his hand moving to rest on the back of her neck. "Something that reminds me I survived the dark... and chose the light anyway."

Her expression softened, her fingers trailing down his bicep, imagining the lines she could create there. "You speak like it wouldn’t hurt. Needles aren’t like brushes." 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢

"It will probably hurt like hell," he admitted with a grin. "But I trust your hand more than I trust my own heart."

The weight of his trust hit her squarely in the chest. She reached out, her fingers tracing the pulse at his wrist, mapping the skin she would soon change forever.

"You don’t even know what I’d draw," she murmured.

"It doesn’t matter," he said, leaning down until their foreheads touched. "It would be yours. That is the only requirement."

She studied him—the scars he carried, the strength in his jaw, the softness he only showed to her. She nodded once. "Then it won’t be loud," she decided. "No crowns. No beasts. No heraldry."

"Good," he said. "I’ve never found those things to be... representative of who I am when I’m with you."

"Something hidden," she continued, her mind already racing with designs. "In a place only we know."

His eyes darkened, thick with an intimacy that made the air in the room feel heavy. "I like the sound of that."

She smiled and turned back to the peahen, adding one final, gossamer stroke to a tail feather. "You’ll have to sit perfectly still," she warned. "I won’t have you ruining my work."

"I’ll endure," he said dryly, his hand sliding down to rest on her waist.

She glanced back one last time, her eyes dancing with mischief. "And no flinching, Alaric. Not even a twitch."

He placed a hand over his heart, bowing his head with mock solemnity. "For you, my lady? Never."

Morning arrived softly, filtered through pale curtains and the hush of a day that felt important even before it announced itself.

The maids came first—gentle, efficient, all warm smiles and careful hands. They dressed Salviana with unspoken reverence, smoothing fabric, adjusting clasps, taming her hair into something elegant yet unmistakably her.

She let them, calm and distant, her thoughts light in a way they hadn’t been in days.

Alaric waited for her.

When she joined him, he offered his arm, and together they stepped into the carriage. The door hadn’t even fully shut before laughter erupted outside—loud, unashamed, impossible to ignore.

Sebastian.

His voice carried easily, bouncing off stone and morning air as he cracked joke after joke, each one louder than the last. Salviana pressed a hand to her mouth, laughing despite herself.

"For the love of the realm, shut the hell up," Heappal barked, his tone sharp with long-suffering restraint.

Sebastian only laughed harder. "Ah, see? That’s the sound of jealousy, my noble knight."

Simon groaned somewhere nearby. "I swear, one day—"

"One day what?" Sebastian cut in sweetly. "You’ll finally grow a sense of humor?"

Inside the carriage, Alaric sighed and leaned forward, pushing the window open. His voice cut clean through the noise. "I told you not to follow us."

There was a beat of silence.

"...You did," Sebastian admitted cheerfully.

"And yet here you are," Alaric continued, his jaw tight. "Arguing. On a morning that is not meant for this."

The men sobered instantly. Heads bowed. Silence fell.

Salviana frowned and touched Alaric’s arm. "It’s alright," she said gently. "Truly. I like their jokes."

Alaric turned to her, surprised. "You do?"

She smiled. "They make the world feel... normal."

Outside, Sebastian snickered. "See? The lady appreciates good shade."

Heappal muttered something under his breath.

Sebastian wasn’t done. He leaned toward Simon with mock innocence. "So, Simon—how’s your girlfriend?"

Simon sputtered. "You—why would you—"

"Oh, so she does exist," Sebastian said loudly. "Fascinating."

Groans followed. Salviana laughed again, bright and unrestrained this time, and even Alaric felt his tension ease. He leaned back, shaking his head as the carriage rolled on.

The noise continued all the way to the market—bickering, teasing, laughter woven together like old friends who knew no other way to exist.

And by the time they arrived, Salviana stepped down smiling, her heart light, and left the market with exactly what she wanted—pins, needles, ink... and the quiet certainty that joy could still find her in the simplest moments.

As they reached the market, Alaric stepped down first and turned back to the carriage. He offered his hand, steady and sure, helping his wife down with quiet care.

Salviana’s yellow gown caught the morning light, soft as sunlight itself, but her shawl was drawn securely around her shoulders and hair. She had tucked most of her red waves beneath it—she wanted no stares today.

Nothing invited attention faster than flame-bright hair, and today was meant to be simple.

Simple, however, was not the market’s nature.

The moment they moved farther in, the air filled with noise—voices calling, baskets shifting, footsteps rushing. A group of children, thin and sharp-eyed, darted toward them. These were the market kids, the ones who knew every corner, every stall, every secret path.

"What are you looking for, my lord?"

"Need help, my lady?"

"We can take you there!"

Alaric lifted a hand, already shaking his head. "We’re fine," he said calmly. "Thank you."

But Salviana stopped. She crouched slightly so she could meet their eyes, her voice warm. "We’re looking for pins and needles. For body art."

The children exchanged quick glances.

"Tattoos?" one of them asked.

"Body ink?" another added.

They started talking all at once, pointing in three different directions.

Alaric sighed, long and resigned. "I know the place," he said, turning to Salviana. "Come on."

She followed him—at first.

Ten minutes passed. Then more.