Lyra, you're beautiful

Ren didn't remember how long they wandered through the quiet palace halls.His mind felt strangely emptied — as if the trial with Amara had scraped him raw, leaving space only for the hush of Lyra's breaths and the steady warmth of her hand in his.

Moonlight filtered in through high arched windows, painting soft silver across the marble. Somewhere in the distance, a fountain sang, its notes calm and unfazed by gods or fate. It felt impossibly far from thrones of bone and chains that whispered.

He hadn't let go of Lyra once.

When they reached a smaller antechamber — doors thrown open to a private courtyard drenched in jasmine — he paused. His chest tightened. Lyra stopped too, turning to face him, her long white gown stirring around her ankles in a breath of night air.

Her eyes searched his. "Do you want to keep walking?"

"No," he said, voice rougher than he meant. He cleared his throat, tried again. "I want… I want this moment. Just us. No gods watching."

She exhaled, a tiny shaky laugh. "If only the gods were that polite."

He tried to smile. Failed. Instead he stepped forward, closing the space between them until their foreheads touched.

"I almost became him," he whispered. "That other me. I can still feel him — like soot under my fingernails."

Lyra's hands rose, smoothing over his shoulders, then down to rest against his chest. Her touch was gentle but certain, like she was pressing down on the panic threatening to break his ribs from the inside.

"He's gone," she said. "You sent him away."

"He's still there, somewhere. Waiting for the day I slip."

Her thumb brushed his jaw, catching the faint tremor there. "Then let me be the reason you don't."

He closed his eyes. Drew in her scent — moonflowers and rain-warmed stone. It made his pulse jump in ways that had nothing to do with fear.

"Lyra…"

"Look at me," she whispered.

He did.

Her eyes were pale as ever, catching every flicker of starlight — but they weren't distant. They weren't the eyes of a goddess perched above mortal concerns. They were just… hers. Tender. Terrified. Fiercely hopeful.

"You've held my soulstone," she murmured. "You've walked into trials that should've killed you. You've torn off every chain they tried to wrap around your heart." Her hands lifted to cup his face. "Don't you see how much stronger that makes you than him?"

A breath shuddered out of him. "I want to. But every time I close my eyes, I see you with that collar. Kneeling. And part of me wonders if that was always where this story was going."

"It isn't," she said. Firm. Almost angry. "You forget — I chose you. I could have stayed among my sisters in the High Gardens, safe and shining and untouched by war or men who bleed. But I stepped off my throne and fell for you."

Her lips curved, small and sad. "Sometimes I hate that choice. It terrifies me. But I'd make it again."

Something inside him finally cracked. Not in pain — but like an old lock giving way under years of pressure. His arms wrapped around her so tightly her breath stuttered.

"Say it again," he rasped against her temple. "That you chose me."

Her hands splayed across his back. "I chose you, Ren Zian. Not the gods' champion. Not the emperor they wanted. Just you."

He pulled back enough to find her mouth. This kiss wasn't desperate like the last. It was searching, lingering, a plea folded into every soft brush of lips. Her fingers curled in his hair, angling his head for more. When he deepened it, she sighed into him, and the sound nearly undid him.

He felt her press closer — felt the delicate line of her body molded against every harsh line of his own. Skin to skin only separated by thin layers of silk. His hands found her waist, then slid lower, marveling at how warm, how real she was.

When they broke apart, their foreheads stayed pressed together, breathing the same shallow breaths.

"Your heart is racing," she whispered.

"So is yours."

Her smile trembled. "Do you want to stop?"

"No," he said at once, voice hoarse. "But if you do—"

"I don't." She swallowed, then added even softer, "I've waited too long to be touched like a woman, not a goddess on a pedestal."

His breath hitched. "You're sure?"

"Ren…" Her hands caught his and guided them to her waist again, holding them there. "You make me feel like I can be more than what they designed me to be. Let me give that back to you."

A tiny, raw sound slipped out of him — half relief, half ache. He leaned down, kissing her again, slower this time. His hands traced cautious paths along her sides, then up her back, feeling the tiny shivers that rolled through her.

Her fingers tugged at the ties of her gown almost without thinking. When it loosened, he pulled back just enough to see the pale line of her shoulder exposed. His breath caught. She looked almost embarrassed by it, lashes sweeping down.

"Don't hide," he whispered. "You're… gods, Lyra, you're beautiful."

A flush crept up her throat. She met his gaze again, vulnerable but luminous. Then her hands dropped the gown entirely.

It pooled at her feet, leaving her standing in nothing but moonlight.

Ren forgot how to breathe. His hands hovered, almost afraid to touch — until she reached out and guided them to her hips.

"Don't be gentle," she breathed. "Not because I want to be conquered. But because I want you to know I can take all of you — even the parts that terrify you."

His throat closed. He pressed his forehead against hers, hands gripping her tighter than he meant. "I don't deserve you."

"You deserve someone who can choose you freely. And I deserve to love a man who's terrified of becoming a monster — because it means you never will."

He pulled her flush against him then, mouths crashing together with bruising force. Her moan vibrated through him, making every dark place inside flicker with sudden hungry light.

Their bodies fit together like an answer to a question neither had dared ask. Skin to skin, her warmth burning into his chest, her nails scraping lightly over his shoulders.

When they finally broke apart again, they were both shaking.

"Inside," she whispered, voice unsteady. "Let me show you we're still human. Still alive."

His head dropped to her shoulder, breath ragged. "Yes," he managed. "Gods, yes."

It wasn't yet the moment they would come together fully. That would be tomorrow. Or later tonight, when words weren't enough and breath turned to gasps in darkened rooms.

But for now — this was everything.Their hearts raced in unison, hands mapped trembling paths across bare skin, mouths found each other over and over, tasting something that felt dangerously close to forever.

And in that fragile, blistering closeness, Ren finally believed he was not chains.Not a throne.Just a man — loved back by the only woman who ever made him want to stay human.