Chapter 144 A Simple Life
Bella
I wake up slowly, the way people do when nothing is wrong. There’s no jolt of panic, no sharp intake of breath, no instinctive scan of exits or threats. There is only warmth, steady and surrounding, and the quiet awareness that I am awake because my body decided it was time. Damien’s arm is heavy across my waist, his chest rising and falling against my back. His breath brushes the nape of my neck with every exhale, warm enough that the faint chill under my skin never quite has a chance to surface. I lie there for a moment longer than necessary, listening to the rhythm of him, committing it to memory even though I already know it by heart. My left hand rests on the pillow in front of me, and the ring catches the morning light. It looks different in daylight. Still beautiful, still unmistakably mine, but softer somehow. The pale stone holds the light rather than reflecting it, frost-veined and calm, as if it were never meant to be flashy; it was meant to be perfect, just for me. The sight of it makes me giddy. I lift my hand slightly, turning it, watching the way the metal warms against my skin. Engaged. I am engaged. I am with the man who promises to love me for the rest of our lives. Now that is something to write about. Behind me, Damien stirs. His grip tightens just a fraction, instinctively, like he noticed the absence of my movement even in sleep. He presses his face into my hair and exhales.
“Morning,” he murmurs, voice rough and low.
“Morning,” I reply quietly.
For a while, that’s all we say. The room is filled with early light and the soft crackle of a fire banked low enough to be polite. Outside the window, the kingdom is already awake. I can hear it faintly, doors opening, footsteps crossing stone, the distant clink of dishes. Life is continuing, steady and unremarkable in the best possible way. Damien shifts behind me, propping himself up on one elbow. I feel his gaze on my hand before he speaks.
“Do you like it?” he asks, and something in his voice tells me that he's really not sure what my answer will be.
“It is the most beautiful gift I have ever received,” I tell him honestly.
“Any regrets?” he asks lightly.
I turn my head to look at him. His hair is mussed from sleep, fire subdued but present, eyes warm and entirely too earnest for this early in the morning.
“None,” I say without hesitation. “I checked.”
He laughs quietly and leans forward, kissing my shoulder, then my neck, then rests his forehead against mine.
“Good,” he says. “I was rather hoping for that answer.”
I roll onto my side, facing him fully now. His hand finds mine immediately, thumb brushing over the ring with care that feels reverent without being precious.
“My wife,” he says, testing the word like it’s new and familiar at the same time.
My mouth curves before I can stop it. “Say that again.”
“Wife.”
Something in my chest shifts, clicks into place.
“Okay,” I say. “I like that, but we still need to plan and participate in a wedding, my king." I tease, and he smiles, closing his eyes.
"You may have the wedding of your dreams, as long as I get to be a part of it."
"Oh, you will, you'll have your part, right at the altar. I'll even let you say a few words of your choosing."
He grins, satisfied, and pulls me closer until there’s no space left to negotiate. We stay there for a few more minutes, neither of us rushing, neither of us pretending there’s anywhere else we need to be.
Eventually, the world insists we be a part of the day. Damien moves first, easing out of bed and offering me a hand up without comment. We dress slowly and comfortably, trading pieces of clothing like this is already a habit rather than something new we’re learning. He helps me fasten the ring again after I wash my hands, and we leave our room together. The staff move through the halls with purpose, carrying trays and linens, murmuring greetings as they pass. A few glances linger on my hand, and smiles appear, subtle and warm. They've all thankfully learnt not to bow or be so formal, which I am enjoying thoroughly, and I think Damien is too. I didn’t know how much I wanted that until now. In the dining hall, breakfast is already laid out. There is bread still warm from the oven, fruit and coffee steaming gently in porcelain cups. Damien pulls out my chair without thinking, and I sit without pretending it’s unnecessary. As we eat, the conversation stays small.
He tells me the mountain village sent word overnight. The roofs are finished, and a few more cabins have been claimed. Red apparently reorganised three work crews and a cooking rotation before anyone realised she wasn’t supposed to be in charge.
“That sounds like her,” I say, smiling into my cup.
He tells me that Ashlyn and Paul are settling, slowly. Gilfred slept in a child’s bed and refused to leave until bribed with dried fruit.
“I’m sure that won’t cause long-term consequences,” I say solemnly.
Damien’s eyes crinkle. “None whatsoever.”
At some point, between bites and sips and the quiet comfort of shared space, he reaches for my hand again.
“What do you want to do today?” he asks.
I think about it honestly. The mountain. The village. The office waiting upstairs. The book I started last night. The future pressing close but not urgent.
“I want to go outside,” I decide. “I want to see everyone and tell everyone the good news. I'm sure Ashlyn and Red will want to help organise the grandest wedding this world has ever seen. Then maybe later, I want to write.”
He nods. “That sounds perfect.”
We stand together, plates cleared, and head for the doors. The courtyard greets us with light and movement. Guards pass, relaxed, and above us, a dragon’s shadow passes over stone.
Damien squeezes my hand.
“Ready?” he asks.
I look at him, at the ring, at the world we’re stepping into together.
“I am,” I say. “Let’s go build a life.”
And we do.