The Villainess Wants To Retire-Chapter 346: THE MOONLIGHT TRUCE

"I... yes. That might help."

"Then let’s go."

I sat up carefully, bracing myself for the effort. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and tried to find my footing. My knees gave a pathetic wobble, and the floor felt like it was tilting at a forty-five-degree angle.

Before I could even attempt a step, Soren was on his feet. He moved with a blurred speed, bending down and hooking one arm under my knees and the other behind my back.

He lifted me with a single, effortless motion.

"Put me down!" I protested, though my hands instinctively found his shoulders for balance. "I can walk!"

He adjusted his grip, tucking me firmly against his chest. "Yeah, I don’t think you can. You look like a newborn fawn trying to walk on ice."

"I was walking earlier—"

"Three steps before you nearly collapsed into the vanity," he remarked, his voice full of a dark, smug amusement. "I was informed."

"Mira has a big mouth," I hissed, my face heating up again.

He began walking toward the balcony doors, his stride steady. "Mira cares about you. As do I. So stop squirming before I decide to carry you through the Great Hall instead."

I stopped struggling immediately, grumbling into his shoulder. "You’re insufferable. Truly."

"And you love it," he countered, kissing my temple.

I didn’t deny it. I couldn’t. "...Shut up."

Soren didn’t take me to the public ramparts. He carried me deep into the private gardens he had commissioned—the ones filled with hardy, frost-blooming variants of Nevareth’s flowers.

The night had settled into a quiet, heavy fall of white flakes. Overhead, the moon was a brilliant, silver coin, and the stars were scattered like crushed diamonds across the black velvet of the sky. In the distance, the Aurora danced in ribbons of green and violet, a silent, celestial fire.

The air was bitingly cold, but against Soren’s chest, it felt perfect.

He sat on a wide stone bench, keeping me firmly in his lap. I was seated facing him slightly, my head resting against the firm beat of his heart. He wrapped his heavy fur cloak around both of us, caging me in a cocoon of warmth and the scent of cedar.

We just... existed.

No talking. No politics. No heavy expectations. Just the sound of the wind and the feeling of being held. I marveled at the sensation of his fingers as they began to move through my hair. He wasn’t pulling; he was massaging my scalp with a tender, rhythmic pressure that made my eyes flutter shut.

His hands moved to my shoulders, his thumbs working out the knots of tension with a slow, careful focus. It wasn’t laced with lustful hunger. It was... comforting. He was tending to me as if I were something precious, something that needed care rather than just conquest.

And then, it hit me. A realization so sudden and sharp it made my chest tighten.

I’m happy.

When did that happen? In the beginning, I just wanted a quiet life. I wanted to fade into the background, to be soft and gentle and safe.

I had found myself in this chaotic, dangerous, political nightmare instead. And yet... Soren was giving me happiness anyway.

Even in the middle of a war, even with Caelen trapped in the next wing, even with my magic failing... he made me feel like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

My throat felt thick with an emotion I couldn’t quite name.

"Soren," I whispered into the linen of his tunic.

The massage stopped. I could feel his chin resting on the top of my head. "Hmm?"

"Thank you," I said, my voice soft, stripped of its usual armor.

I felt him stiffen for a second, surprised by the rare vulnerability. Then, he nudged his face into my hair, breathing me in. I could feel the heat of his smile against my temple.

"Say my name like that again," he murmured, his voice dropping into that dangerous, low register.

"Like what?" I asked, confused.

He started massaging my body again, but the rhythm had changed. His fingers were pressing into the sensitive dip of my collarbone, his touch bordering on something that made a familiar spark ignite in my gut. It was a strange, intoxicating middle ground... half-comforting, half-arousing.

"Soft," he whispered. "Gentle. Like you trust me completely."

I felt the dazed peace shatter as reality came rushing back. I snapped my head up to glare at him. "You—you PERVERT! I was being sincere!"

Soren let out a bark of genuine laughter, his eyes dancing with mischief. "I’m sorry! I can’t help it."

"Can’t help it? We were having a moment and you ruined it with your... your ’greed’!"

"I was having a moment too!" he protested, grinning unapologetically. "You were soft and warm and saying my name like a prayer. It went straight to my—"

I slapped my hand over his mouth, my eyes wide. "Don’t. Finish. That. Sentence."

He mumbled something against my palm, his eyes crinkling with amusement. I pulled my hand back, and he let out a long, satisfied breath. "It feels like I’m in heat, Eris. Truly. I think it’s a medical condition."

"In heat? What are you, a mountain cat? A beast?"

He seemed to consider this. "Around you? Apparently, yes. I have no self-control left. You’ve burned it all away."

I shook my head, a smile tugging at my lips despite my best efforts to remain annoyed. "You’re impossible, Soren. Completely impossible."

He pulled me back against his chest, resting his chin on my head once more as we looked out at the dancing Aurora. "And yet you keep me around."

I closed my eyes, the restlessness finally settling into a deep, marrow-deep peace. "...Yeah. I do."

Narrator:

The moon watched them. The stars bore witness. And for that one moment, in the heart of the Long Dark, there was only the cold and the fire, perfectly balanced.