POV: Lucian Mareis

The morning came softly — sunlight spilling through the blinds like it was afraid to disturb the quiet. Lucian stretched, the faint ache in his body reminding him that he was still alive, still here.

Nareth was in the kitchen, humming under his breath. The smell of coffee drifted through the air, mixing with the faint scent of rain that still lingered from the night before.

Lucian padded over, watching him pour coffee into two mugs. His hair was a mess, his sleeves rolled up, and there was something domestic about it that made Lucian’s chest warm.

“You hum when you cook?” Lucian asked.

Nareth looked up, surprised. “You talk when you should be resting.”

Lucian smiled faintly. “Guess we both have bad habits.”

Nareth handed him a mug. “Then we’ll just annoy each other forever.”

Lucian nearly laughed, the sound soft and genuine. He took a sip and winced. “It’s too sweet.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Why would I thank you for that?”

“Because I made it that way so I’d get to see you complain.”

Lucian blinked, then burst out laughing — a full, unrestrained laugh that filled the small kitchen. For the first time in months, it didn’t sound broken.

Nareth smiled quietly, the corners of his eyes soft. “That’s better.”

Lucian looked at him for a long moment, heart fluttering. “You’re dangerous when you say things like that.”

“Then stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m the only thing keeping you steady.”

Lucian swallowed. “Maybe you are.”

Nareth’s breath caught — but before either of them could say more, a knock echoed from the door.

---

POV: Daelen Pryce

“Morning, sunshine,” Daelen called as he let himself in, holding a takeout bag like a trophy. “Breakfast delivery, courtesy of me.”

Lucian blinked. “You could’ve called.”

“And miss watching you both pretend you’re not disgustingly in love? Never.”

Nareth threw a napkin at him. “Shut up.”

Daelen smirked and dropped onto the couch. Irian followed him quietly, holding a small box of pastries. He set them down carefully, glancing between the others before offering Lucian a shy smile.

Lucian smiled back. “You didn’t have to bring anything.”

“I wanted to,” Irian said softly. “Daelen said you like strawberry.”

Nareth raised a brow. “Since when do you know that?”

Daelen shrugged, stealing a pastry. “I pay attention.”

Lucian rolled his eyes, but there was laughter in it. The room filled with warmth — the kind that comes from shared survival, from people who’ve been through too much and are still here.

As they ate, the conversation drifted — jokes, small stories, soft smiles. Lucian watched Irian laugh at something Daelen said, the sound light and hesitant but real.

For a fleeting second, he thought about how fragile they all looked — and how beautiful it was that they’d made it through.

---

POV: Irian Thal

Later, when everyone had drifted into quiet conversation, Irian leaned toward Daelen.

“You’re not going to tell them about last night, are you?”

Daelen tilted his head. “About you holding my hand?”

Irian flushed. “That wasn’t—”

“Relax, I’m not saying a word,” Daelen said, smirking. “Though, if you want me to—”

“I don’t.”

Daelen’s grin widened. “Then maybe I’ll keep it to myself. Our little secret.”

Irian looked away, but his lips twitched. “You really don’t know how to stop teasing people.”

Daelen leaned closer, his voice dropping. “Only the ones I can’t stop thinking about.”

Irian froze, heart stuttering.

For once, Daelen didn’t follow the moment with a laugh. He just smiled — slow, genuine, warm.

And in that quiet, Irian realized that somewhere between revenge and chaos, Daelen had become something else entirely. Someone who made him feel safe.

---

POV: Nareth Sol

As the sun climbed higher, Nareth glanced around the room — four friends, coffee cups, laughter, sunlight painting gold across the floor.

This was what he’d been fighting for.

Not peace.

Not victory.

Just moments like this.

He reached out, letting his hand brush against Lucian’s under the table. Lucian didn’t pull away.