The newly married couple retired to their private chambers that night, the echoes of the feast still faintly lingering in their ears—the laughter of guests, the clinking of cups, the well-wishes cast their way.
Inside the chamber, however, everything was quiet and bathed in the warm glow of candlelight.
The air felt different here—more intimate, more expectant.
They had eaten well earlier, sharing dishes from the same plates, stealing soft glances at each other over goblets of wine.
Though they spoke casually about the future of their kingdom, about the guests, about the day's events, both knew there was a deeper anticipation in the air, one that neither dared to address too early.
And when the clock tower chimed midnight, its echo rang through the palace like a gentle reminder of tradition and destiny.
Their conversation slowly drifted to silence.
"It's time to go to bed, my queen," Nero said at last, his voice low, warm, and filled with affection.
