I'M MARRIED TO SILVER AND SEBEK MY WIVES

Serving: The Waking Dream

The dream was always the same.

It was not a nightmare, though it carried the heavy, suffocating weight of one. Silver stood in the center of a vast, ancient forest. The trees were impossibly tall, their trunks thick as castle towers, their branches weaving together so densely that the sky was entirely obscured. The light that filtered down was a sickly, pale green, casting long, warped shadows across the moss-covered ground.

He was walking, though his legs felt like they were made of lead. He was searching for something. Or someone. He could hear voices echoing through the trees—the booming, fiercely loyal shout of Sebek, the deep, resonant, ancient tone of Malleus, and the bright, mischievous laughter of his father, Lilia.

“Come along, Silver,” Lilia’s voice would chime, sounding both right next to his ear and a thousand miles away.

Silver would try to run toward the sound, but the air was thick as syrup. The harder he tried to move, the heavier his eyelids became. The moss beneath his boots would soften, turning into a plush, inviting bed. The roots of the trees would curl up, offering themselves as pillows. The forest itself was whispering to him, a lullaby sung in a language older than humanity.

Sleep. Rest. Close your eyes, little knight.

He would fight it. He always fought it. He would grip the hilt of his sword until his knuckles turned white, gritting his teeth, demanding that his body obey his will. But the enchantment was absolute. His knees would buckle. He would fall to the soft earth, his eyes fluttering shut as the voices of his family faded away into the mist, leaving him entirely, utterly alone in the dark.

Silver gasped, his eyes snapping open.

He shot up in bed, his chest heaving, his right hand instinctively reaching for the sword that rested against his nightstand. His fingers brushed the cold metal of the hilt, grounding him instantly.

He blinked rapidly, waiting for his vision to adjust to the dim, emerald-tinted light of his dormitory room. The high, gothic arches of the ceiling, the heavy velvet curtains, the familiar scent of old parchment and ozone—it was all real. He was in Diasomnia. He was awake.

Silver let out a long, shuddering sigh, releasing his grip on the sword and running a trembling hand through his messy, silver hair. He felt the cold sweat clinging to the back of his neck.

"Just a dream," he murmured, his voice thick and raspy from sleep. "Again."

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, his bare feet touching the cold stone floor. A shiver ran up his spine, fully banishing the lingering fog of the nightmare. He looked at the ornate, magical clock resting on his desk. It was barely past dawn.

Today was May fifteenth. It was his birthday.

In the human world, a birthday was a milestone. It was a marker of growth, of passing time, of moving from childhood into adulthood. But growing up in the Briar Valley, surrounded by beings who lived for centuries, who viewed a decade as a mere blink of an eye, a birthday had always felt like a strange, isolating concept. When he was young, his father had thrown lavish, chaotic parties, showering him with gifts and affection. But every year that passed was a reminder of the fundamental difference between him and his family. They were eternal. He was fleeting.

And every year, the sleep grew heavier.

A sudden, catastrophic crash echoed from the floor below, rattling the heavy wooden door of his bedroom.

Silver didn't flinch. He simply sighed, pushing himself up from the bed.

"Father is in the kitchen," Silver noted softly to himself.

He moved to his washbasin, splashing freezing cold water onto his face, forcing the blood to rush to his cheeks. He dried his face with a towel, staring at his reflection in the mirror. His aurora-colored eyes stared back at him—strange, shifting, caught between the colors of dawn and dusk. He didn't look like a knight today. He just looked tired.

He dressed meticulously. Even on his birthday, he was a retainer to the future king of the Briar Valley. He fastened the complicated straps of his uniform, brushed the wrinkles from his jacket, and ensured his boots were perfectly polished. He strapped his magical pen to his hip. Duty did not pause for celebrations.

When he finally opened his door and descended the grand, spiraling stone staircase into the main lounge of Diasomnia, he was met with a scene of absolute, concentrated chaos.

Thick, unnatural purple smoke was billowing from the arched doorway of the kitchen.

"MASTER LILIA! PLEASE! THE INGREDIENTS ARE SCREAMING!"

Sebek’s voice cut through the smoke, booming with such incredible volume that Silver winced, rubbing his sensitive ears.

"Nonsense, Sebek!" Lilia’s cheerful, entirely unbothered voice floated back. "That is simply the sound of the mandrake root releasing its natural, celebratory flavors! A birthday cake requires a strong foundation! Now, pass me that jar of pickled newt eyes, I want to create a glaze!"

"THAT IS NOT A GLAZE! THAT IS A BIOLOGICAL WEAPON!" Sebek roared, the sound of heavy boots stomping frantically across the tile floor accompanying his panic.

Silver stopped at the base of the stairs, leaning against the cold stone railing. A small, fond smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. It was loud. It was dangerous. It was terrifyingly unhygienic. But it was home.

"You are awake early, Silver."

Silver turned his head. Sitting in a high-backed leather armchair near the unlit fireplace, completely unfazed by the purple smoke slowly filling the ceiling, was Malleus Draconia. The Housewarden held a heavy, ancient tome in his lap, though his glowing green eyes were fixed on Silver.

"Good morning, Lord Malleus," Silver said, immediately stepping forward and dropping into a flawless, respectful bow. "I apologize if the commotion woke you."

"Do not apologize for Lilia’s culinary enthusiasm," Malleus said smoothly, closing the book with a soft thud. "And please, dispense with the formalities today. It is the anniversary of your birth. In the Briar Valley, such a day is meant to be spent in joyous reflection, not servitude."

Malleus stood up, his towering frame casting a long shadow across the room. He approached Silver, his footsteps completely silent. He stopped in front of the younger boy, looking down at him with an expression that was ancient, unreadable, yet undeniably affectionate.

Malleus reached out, placing a massive, elegantly gloved hand on Silver’s shoulder.

"You have grown, Child of Man," Malleus murmured, his voice vibrating with a subtle, underlying magic. "Another year of life. Another year of strength. The Briar Valley is proud to call you its knight. Happy Birthday."

Silver felt a flush of warmth spread across his chest. Coming from Malleus, the words were not a simple pleasantry; they were a royal decree. "Thank you, Malleus. I will continue to dedicate my life to your service."

Before Malleus could respond, the kitchen doors burst open, and Sebek stumbled out, coughing violently, his face covered in soot.

"SILVER!" Sebek shouted the moment he spotted him, completely ignoring his own respiratory distress. He marched over, snapping into a rigid, military salute. "I HUMBLY CONGRATULATE YOU ON SURVIVING ANOTHER REVOLUTION AROUND THE SUN! AS YOUR FELLOW RETAINER, I DEMAND THAT YOU SPEND THIS DAY PERFECTING YOUR SWORDSMANSHIP SO THAT YOU MAY BETTER SERVE THE YOUNG MASTER!"

"Thank you, Sebek," Silver replied calmly, though he subtly took a step back to avoid the sheer concussive force of Sebek's voice. "I will be sure to train."

Suddenly, Lilia materialized upside down from the ceiling, hanging by his knees from one of the gothic chandeliers. He was holding a large, steaming plate covered in what looked like bubbling, neon-pink sludge.

"Happy Birthday, my sweet boy!" Lilia cheered, his fangs flashing in a wide, terrifying grin. "I have prepared a traditional, centuries-old birthday tart! It is packed with nutrients, magical enhancements, and just a hint of bat venom for flavor! Come, open wide!"

Silver stared at the bubbling sludge. A bubble rose to the surface, popped, and released a tiny puff of green gas that immediately withered a nearby potted fern.

Silver possessed an iron stomach. He had eaten his father’s cooking for his entire life, out of sheer love and respect. But today, the thought of consuming the glowing, toxic-looking mass made his already uneasy stomach churn violently. The lingering anxiety from his nightmare was still twisting in his gut.

"Father," Silver said gently, offering a polite, practiced smile. "I am deeply honored. Truly. But I fear my stomach is not quite awake yet. I... I think I need to take a walk. To clear my head. A morning patrol of the campus perimeter, to ensure the Young Master's safety."

Lilia paused, hanging upside down, his crimson eyes studying Silver’s face. For a moment, the cheerful, oblivious father persona dropped. Lilia was an ancient general; he saw everything. He saw the pale sheen of sweat on Silver’s forehead. He saw the slight tremor in his hands. He saw the shadows under his aurora-colored eyes.

"A patrol," Lilia repeated softly, righting himself and floating gently down to the floor. He set the terrifying tart on a nearby table. "Of course. Fresh air is vital for a growing knight. But do not wander too far, Silver. We have much to celebrate later."

"I will return soon," Silver promised. He bowed once more to Malleus, gave a nod to a sputtering Sebek, and quickly made his way toward the heavy oak doors of the dormitory.

As he pushed the doors open and stepped out into the cool, crisp morning air, he let out a massive breath he didn't realize he had been holding. The heavy, oppressive atmosphere of the dorm vanished, replaced by the sharp, clean scent of dew on grass.

He needed quiet. He needed to escape the sheer intensity of his family, just for a little while.

Silver did not walk toward the main campus. He did not want to deal with the chaotic energy of Heartslabyul students rushing to class, or the loud, boisterous laughter of Savanaclaw beastmen. Instead, he turned his boots toward the thick, dense forest that bordered the Botanical Gardens.

The woods at Night Raven College were not as grand or ancient as the forests of the Briar Valley, but they held a similar magic. The trees were tall, their leaves forming a thick, protective canopy that filtered the morning sunlight into soft, dappled beams. The underbrush was thick with ferns and wild brambles.

As soon as Silver crossed the tree line, his entire posture changed. The rigid, perfect posture of a royal retainer melted away. His shoulders dropped. His breathing slowed, matching the natural, rhythmic pulse of the forest.

He walked aimlessly, his boots crunching softly against the fallen leaves.

Almost immediately, the forest recognized him. Silver possessed a unique, entirely passive magic. It was not a spell he cast; it was simply an aura he radiated. A deep, profound tranquility.

A small, brown squirrel darted down the trunk of a nearby oak tree, stopping a few feet from Silver’s boots. It sat up on its hind legs, chittering softly. Silver smiled, reaching into his pocket and retrieving a small handful of mixed nuts he always kept on his person. He knelt down, offering his open palm. The squirrel didn't hesitate. It scampered forward, taking a nut directly from his hand before scurrying up onto his shoulder, finding a comfortable spot against his collar.

A moment later, a pair of bluebirds fluttered down from the canopy, landing delicately on his silver hair, mistaking it for a shining, metallic nest.

Silver stood back up, moving deeper into the woods with his newly acquired entourage. A family of deer watched him pass from a thicket of bushes, their large, dark eyes devoid of any fear. To them, he was not a predator. He was a part of the woods.

He walked until he found a small, secluded clearing. In the center of the clearing stood a massive, ancient willow tree, its long, weeping branches forming a natural, green tent. The grass beneath the tree was soft, thick, and perfectly untouched.

Silver stepped through the curtain of willow branches and sat down, leaning his back against the broad, sturdy trunk.

The moment he stopped moving, the curse began to pull at him.

The silence of the woods, the comforting weight of the squirrel on his shoulder, the soft chirping of the birds—it was all a lullaby. The exhaustion from his restless night and the lingering anxiety of his nightmare crashed over him like a tidal wave.

His eyelids fluttered. They felt like they were made of iron.

No, Silver thought, his brow furrowing in distress. Not today. I do not want to sleep through today.

He pinched his own arm, a sharp, stinging pain meant to jolt his nervous system. It worked for exactly five seconds before the heavy, suffocating blanket of enchanted sleep settled over his mind once more. His chin dropped to his chest. The forest around him began to blur, the edges of his vision darkening into a soft, inviting gray.

I am missing it, he thought, a deep, profound wave of sadness washing over him as his consciousness slipped. I am missing my own life.

"Silver?"

The voice was soft. It was not a shout, nor a command. It was gentle, melodic, and entirely human.

Silver’s eyes snapped open. The sudden surge of adrenaline was so intense that the birds on his head took flight, fluttering up into the branches of the willow.

He looked up.

Standing on the edge of the clearing, pushing a willow branch aside, were you.

You were wearing a thick, oversized, incredibly comfortable-looking knitted cardigan over your uniform. In your arms, you carried a massive, woven picnic basket that looked heavy enough to strain your wrists, and a rolled-up, quilted blanket was tucked under your arm. Your hair was slightly windblown, your cheeks flushed pink from the morning chill, and you were looking at him with an expression of such absolute, unyielding affection that it literally made his breath catch in his throat.

"Prefect," Silver breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. He scrambled to his feet, instantly defaulting to his polite, formal posture. "What are you doing out here? Did the Young Master send you to find me? Is there an emergency?"

"No emergencies," you smiled, stepping fully into the enclosure beneath the willow tree. The leaves fell back into place behind you, sealing the two of you in a private, green-tinted world. "Hornton didn't send me. Actually, no one knows I'm here. I sneaked out of Ramshackle before Grim even woke up."

Silver frowned, utterly confused. "Then why..."

"Because it's your birthday, Silver," you said simply, walking toward him and setting the heavy basket down on the soft grass. You unrolled the quilted blanket, spreading it out over the ground. It was large, thick, and colored in deep shades of forest green and silver.

"My... birthday," Silver repeated. He looked down at the blanket, then back up at you. "You came out into the woods... for me?"

"Of course I did," you laughed, a soft, musical sound that did absolutely nothing to trigger his sleep curse. In fact, it had the opposite effect. Your presence was like a sharp, bright ray of sunlight piercing through a heavy fog. "I know how Diasomnia celebrates. I know Lilia means well, but I also know that you probably haven't eaten anything this morning because you were too afraid it might dissolve your internal organs."

Silver actually chuckled at that, a rare, genuine sound that made the squirrel on his shoulder perk its ears up. "You are... incredibly perceptive, Prefect."

"Please, just sit down," you urged, gesturing to the blanket. "You look like you're about to fall over. I brought breakfast."

Silver hesitated for a fraction of a second, his ingrained sense of duty warring with the deep, overwhelming desire to just exist in this quiet space with you. He looked at your bright, encouraging smile, and the duty lost. He knelt down, sitting cross-legged on the edge of the blanket, watching you with wide, fascinated eyes.

You knelt opposite him, popping the latches on the woven basket.

The smell hit him instantly, and his stomach let out a loud, traitorous rumble that made his pale cheeks flush bright red.

It was not the smell of toxic magic or bizarre, ancient ingredients. It was the smell of home. Real home.

You pulled out two large, heavy ceramic bowls. Next came a large, enchanted thermos that radiated a comforting heat. You unscrewed the cap and poured the contents into the bowls.

It was a thick, creamy, wild mushroom and roasted garlic soup. The broth was a rich, earthy brown, dotted with fresh sprigs of thyme and cracked black pepper. The steam rose in swirling columns, carrying the scent of butter, roasted vegetables, and a hint of white wine.

"I made it from scratch," you explained, handing him a bowl and a silver spoon. "I know you like foraging, so I went out yesterday afternoon and found the mushrooms myself. I had Jade verify them, so don't worry, they aren't poisonous. I simmered it all night."

Silver took the bowl. It was incredibly warm against his cold hands. He stared down at the soup, a strange, tight feeling building in the back of his throat. He had never had someone cook for him like this. Malleus did not cook. Sebek’s cooking was strictly utilitarian, focused purely on protein. And Lilia’s cooking was... Lilia’s cooking.

"You stayed up all night... to make this for me?" Silver asked, his voice thick.

"I wanted it to be perfect," you said softly, reaching back into the basket. You pulled out a massive loaf of freshly baked sourdough bread, still warm to the touch, and a small crock of whipped, salted honey butter. You tore off a large chunk of the bread, slathered it in the butter, and handed it to him. "Eat. Before it gets cold."

Silver took the bread. He dipped it into the thick soup, letting it soak up the broth, and took a bite.

He closed his eyes.

The flavor was extraordinary. It was deeply, intensely savory, the earthiness of the wild mushrooms perfectly balanced by the sweet, roasted garlic and the rich, heavy cream. The sourdough bread had a perfect, satisfying crunch, giving way to a soft, fluffy interior. It was warm. It was safe. It tasted like a hug.

Silver let out a soft, barely audible sigh of absolute contentment. He didn't say a word. He simply began to eat. He ate with the slow, meticulous focus of a starving man who was terrified the food might vanish if he rushed. He finished the entire bowl, and half the loaf of bread, before he finally set the ceramic dish down on the blanket.

"That was..." Silver swallowed hard, looking at you with an expression of profound, naked gratitude. "That was the greatest thing I have ever tasted. Thank you."

"You're welcome," you smiled, looking incredibly pleased. You packed the empty bowls back into the basket. "I also brought a cake, but we can save that for later. You looked like you needed actual food first."

"I did," Silver admitted, a small, self-deprecating smile crossing his face. He leaned back on his hands, looking up at the canopy of willow leaves above you. The green light filtered down, casting shifting patterns across his pale skin.

For a long time, the two of you sat in comfortable, easy silence. The squirrel had abandoned Silver’s shoulder to investigate a crumb of sourdough bread that had fallen onto the blanket. The woods were quiet, save for the rustling of the leaves and the distant chirping of the birds.

But as the physical hunger faded, the emotional exhaustion rushed back in to take its place.

Silver’s gaze dropped from the canopy to his own hands, resting in his lap. He stared at the callouses on his palms, forged by years of gripping a sword hilt.

"I had the dream again this morning," Silver said quietly, his voice breaking the peaceful silence. It was a confession. He rarely spoke of his dreams, viewing them as a personal weakness he had to overcome. But sitting here with you, the walls he built around his heart felt impossibly thin.

You stopped organizing the basket, giving him your full, undivided attention. "The one where you're lost in the woods?"

"Yes," Silver nodded, his expression turning bleak. "The one where my father, and Malleus, and Sebek are calling out to me. And I try to reach them. I try so hard. But the sleep is too heavy. I fall, and when I close my eyes, they disappear."

He clenched his hands into fists, his fingernails digging into his palms.

"I hate it," Silver whispered fiercely, a sudden, raw emotion bleeding into his usually calm voice. "I hate this curse. I hate this... this flaw in my blood. Today is my birthday. I am another year older. Another year closer to the end of my life. And what do I spend my life doing? Sleeping."

He looked up at you, his aurora eyes shimmering with unshed tears, filled with a deep, agonizing vulnerability.

"When I was seven years old," Silver continued, his voice trembling, "my father threw a massive party for me. He invited fairies from all over the Briar Valley. There was music, and dancing, and a mountain of presents. I was so excited. But... halfway through the celebration, the sleep hit me. I couldn't fight it. I passed out in my chair."

He looked away, staring into the dark underbrush of the forest.

"When I woke up, the party was over. The guests were gone. The candles on my cake had burned all the way down to the frosting, leaving nothing but melted wax. I missed my own birthday. I missed the joy. And I saw the look on my father’s face. He smiled at me, he told me it was alright, but I saw the sadness in his eyes. I was a disappointment."

"Silver, no," you said immediately, your heart breaking at the sheer weight of the guilt he was carrying.

"It's true," Silver insisted, shaking his head. "I am a knight. My duty is to protect Malleus. How can I protect him when I cannot even keep my own eyes open? What good is a sword if the man holding it is asleep? Sometimes I look at Malleus, and Lilia, and even Sebek... and I realize how fundamentally different I am. They are powerful. They are eternal. And I am just... a tired human. A fleeting, fragile thing that they have to constantly carry."

He squeezed his eyes shut, a single tear escaping and tracking down his pale cheek. "I am terrified, Prefect. I am terrified that one day, I will close my eyes, and when I wake up... years will have passed. And they will be gone. Or worse, they will have realized that I am not worth the burden of carrying."

The silence that followed his confession was heavy, thick with a pain he had harbored for over a decade. He waited for you to offer a platitude. He waited for you to tell him that he was overreacting, or that his family loved him, words he had heard a million times but could never truly internalize.

You didn't do any of that.

Instead, you moved. You crawled across the quilted blanket until you were sitting directly in front of him. You reached out, taking his clenched fists in your hands. His hands were large, cold, and rigid with tension. You gently pried his fingers open, smoothing your thumbs over his calloused palms, offering a warm, grounding touch.

Silver opened his eyes, startled by the physical contact. He looked down at your hands holding his, then up to your face.

You were looking at him with an intensity that burned right through the fog of his insecurities.

"Silver," you said, your voice low, firm, and ringing with absolute conviction. "Look at me."

He met your gaze.

"You are not a burden," you stated, emphasizing every single word. "You have never been a burden. Do you think Lilia Vanrouge, a general who has fought in wars that shaped the world, would raise a child out of pity? Do you think Malleus Draconia, one of the most powerful mages in Twisted Wonderland, would accept a retainer he believed was weak?"

Silver opened his mouth to argue, but you squeezed his hands, silencing him.

"You look at your sleep as a curse," you continued, your eyes locked onto his shifting, dawn-colored irises. "You see it as an absence. But you are looking at it all wrong. Your sleep does not make you weak, Silver. Your sleep is proof of your strength."

He frowned, completely bewildered. "How can failing to stay awake be a strength?"

"Because you fight it," you said fiercely. "Every single day of your life, you are fighting a magical enchantment that would put an ordinary man into a coma. You fight it in class. You fight it during training. You fight it right now. You carry an invisible, crushing weight on your shoulders twenty-four hours a day, and yet, you still swing a sword perfectly. You still stand by Malleus's side. You still show up with a pure heart and a kind smile."

You released one of his hands, bringing your hand up to cup his cheek. Your palm was warm against his cold skin. He leaned into the touch instinctively, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment at the sheer comfort of the contact.

"You are not missing your life, Silver," you whispered, your thumb gently brushing away the stray tear on his cheek. "You are living it harder than anyone else I know. Your soul is awake, even when your eyes are closed. Your loyalty, your kindness, your bravery... none of that sleeps. Ever."

Silver let out a shuddering breath. The walls he had built around his heart, the heavy, iron fortress of his own guilt and insecurity, began to crack. He opened his eyes, looking at you with a desperate, overwhelming awe.

"You truly believe that?" he asked, his voice cracking.

"I know it," you promised. "And if you ever doubt it, you come find me. I will remind you every single day until you believe it yourself."

Silver stared at you. He looked at the gentle curve of your smile, the fierce determination in your eyes, and the way the dappled sunlight caught in your hair. In that moment, the dark, suffocating forest of his nightmares completely vanished. It was replaced by the bright, warm reality of the person sitting in front of him.

He didn't think. He simply acted.

Silver surged forward. He released your hand, wrapping both of his arms securely around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, burying his nose against your collar.

You gasped slightly at the sudden movement, but immediately wrapped your arms around his shoulders, holding him just as tightly.

He was trembling. The stoic, perfectly composed knight of Diasomnia was shaking in your arms, overwhelmed by a wave of relief so profound it felt like a physical weight had been lifted from his chest. He breathed in the scent of your clothes—a clean, warm scent that smelled of the Ramshackle dorm, of the soup you had made, and of absolute safety.

"Thank you," Silver whispered brokenly against your skin. "Thank you."

"Happy birthday, Silver," you murmured, running your fingers through his soft, silver hair.

He held you for a long time, simply absorbing the reality of your presence. He realized, with a sudden, startling clarity, that he was not falling asleep. The heavy, pulling sensation in his mind had retreated. Your heartbeat, steady and strong against his chest, was an anchor holding him firmly in the waking world.

When he finally pulled back, he didn't go far. He kept his hands resting on your waist, his face mere inches from yours. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes were incredibly bright.

"I brought you a gift," you said softly, breaking the intense silence.

Silver blinked, surprised. "You already brought me breakfast. And you gave me... your words. You do not need to give me anything else."

"Too bad," you smiled, reaching into the deep pocket of your cardigan. "You're getting it anyway."

You pulled out a small, beautifully wrapped box and placed it in his hands.

Silver looked at the box, treating it with the reverence of a holy relic. He carefully untied the ribbon and lifted the lid. Inside, resting on a bed of dark velvet, was a piece of jewelry.

It was a bracelet. But it was not made of precious metals or gems. It was intricately, meticulously hand-woven from thick, durable threads. The colors were specific—a deep, forest green intertwining with a brilliant, shining silver, and running through the very center of the braid was a single, vibrant thread in your favorite color. At the center of the bracelet, acting as a clasp, was a small, beautifully polished piece of sunstone, glowing with a warm, internal light.

"I made it," you explained nervously, watching his face for a reaction. "I know you can't wear heavy jewelry during training, so I wanted to make something lightweight. I enchanted the sunstone. I spent hours leaving it out in the sun, pouring a warming charm into it."

You reached out, gently taking the bracelet from the box. You took his left wrist, pushing his sleeve up slightly, and tied the bracelet around his arm.

"When the sleep curse hits you," you said softly, looking up into his eyes, "and you feel like you are falling into the dark... I want you to touch this stone. It will radiate physical heat. It will feel like standing in the sunlight. I want it to remind you that you are not alone in the dark. That I am out here, in the waking world, waiting for you."

Silver stared at the bracelet on his wrist. He reached over with his right hand, pressing his thumb against the smooth surface of the sunstone.

Immediately, a rush of intense, comforting warmth spread from the stone, traveling up his arm and blooming directly in his chest. It felt exactly like your touch.

He looked up from the bracelet to your face. The emotion in his eyes was so intense, so overwhelmingly powerful, it was almost tangible. He didn't have the words. There were no words in the human language, or the fae language, to adequately express what he was feeling in this moment.

So, he didn't use words.

Silver brought his hands up, gently cupping your face. His thumbs brushed across your cheekbones, his touch incredibly delicate, as if he were afraid you were a dream that might shatter if he held you too tightly.

He leaned in, closing the distance between you, and pressed his lips to yours.

The kiss was entirely unlike the aggressive, passionate romances written in novels. It was slow. It was profound. It was a desperate, tender exploration of a connection that ran deeper than magic. His lips were soft, warm, and slightly hesitant at first, checking to ensure he wasn't overstepping a boundary.

When you didn't pull away, but instead brought your hands up to grip the lapels of his uniform jacket, pulling him closer, he let out a soft, vibrating sigh against your mouth.

He deepened the kiss, angling his head to fit perfectly against yours. He poured every ounce of his gratitude, his devotion, and his love into the contact. It was a kiss that tasted of wild mushrooms, fresh sourdough, and the sharp, clean air of the forest. It was a promise, sealed in the quiet sanctuary of the weeping willow.

You kissed him back with equal fervor, your fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. You felt the tension completely leave his body, his rigid muscles melting under your touch. For this one, perfect moment, he was not a knight. He was not a cursed boy. He was just Silver, and he was entirely yours.

When the need for oxygen finally forced him to pull away, he kept his forehead resting against yours, his eyes closed, his breathing heavy and erratic.

"You..." Silver panted softly, a beautiful, genuine smile spreading across his flushed face. "You are a miracle. Do you know that?"

"I'm just a prefect," you laughed breathlessly, your heart hammering against your ribs.

"You are my miracle," Silver corrected firmly, his thumbs stroking your cheeks.

The adrenaline of the confession and the kiss slowly began to fade, and as it did, the natural laws of his body reasserted themselves. The heavy, comforting warmth of the food in his stomach, combined with the profound emotional release and the absolute safety of your presence, created a perfect storm.

The curse did not pull him into the dark this time. It simply invited him to rest.

Silver’s eyelids fluttered, a soft, sleepy sigh escaping his lips. His head drooped slightly, resting heavily against your shoulder.

"Silver?" you whispered gently.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, his voice slurring slightly, thick with sleep. "I don't... I don't want to fall asleep. Not now. I want to stay awake with you."

"It's okay," you soothed, shifting your position so you were sitting more comfortably against the trunk of the willow tree. You gently guided him down until his head was resting squarely in your lap. "You can sleep, Silver."

He fought it for a second, his brow furrowing. "But... it's my birthday. I shouldn't..."

"Your birthday, your rules," you smiled, looking down at his beautiful, exhausted face. You reached out, gently running your fingers through his silver hair, massaging his scalp in slow, rhythmic motions. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. I will watch over you. I promise."

Silver looked up at you through half-lidded eyes. He reached up, his hand finding the woven bracelet on his wrist. He pressed his thumb against the sunstone, feeling the warmth. He looked at your face, committing every detail to memory.

The fear was gone. He wasn't falling into a dark, lonely forest. He was falling asleep in the sun.

"Okay," Silver whispered, a soft, contented smile remaining on his lips. "Wake me... when the sun sets."

"I will," you promised.

Silver closed his eyes. Within seconds, his breathing evened out into a deep, steady rhythm. The tension completely vanished from his face, leaving him looking incredibly young, peaceful, and unburdened.

You sat in the quiet clearing, the heavy, comforting weight of him resting in your lap. You continued to stroke his hair, watching the rise and fall of his chest.

As if sensing that the knight was finally at rest, the forest around you came alive. The bluebirds returned, landing quietly on the branches above. A family of rabbits hopped into the clearing, settling into the grass near the edge of the blanket. Even a large, majestic stag stepped through the willow branches, lying down a few feet away, acting as a silent, natural guard.

It was a scene straight out of a fairy tale. But it wasn't a storybook. It was real.

You pulled a small book from the picnic basket, leaning back against the tree, and began to read, perfectly content to spend the next several hours serving as the guardian of the Sleeping Knight.

---

Hours passed. The sun traveled across the sky, shifting the light in the clearing from bright gold to a deep, fiery amber. The air began to cool, signaling the approach of evening.

Silver shifted in your lap. He let out a soft groan, his brow furrowing as he slowly began to transition from deep sleep to wakefulness.

He didn't wake up with a gasp. He didn't reach for his sword. He woke up slowly, peacefully, the scent of your clothes and the warmth of the sunstone on his wrist guiding him out of the dream.

He opened his eyes, blinking up at the orange-tinted canopy of the willow tree. Then, he tilted his head back, looking up at you.

You had put your book away, and you were looking down at him with a warm, soft smile.

"Good evening, sleepyhead," you murmured.

Silver stared at you for a long moment, processing the reality of the situation. He had fallen asleep. He had slept for hours. And when he woke up... you were still there. The party wasn't over. The candles hadn't burned down. You had stayed.

A profound, indescribable joy blossomed in his chest.

"You stayed," Silver whispered, reaching up to gently touch your hand.

"I told you I would," you smiled, helping him sit up. "Did you have any nightmares?"

Silver shook his head, looking down at the bracelet on his wrist. "No. I dreamt of a sunny field. And you were there. It was the best sleep I have had in years."

He stood up, stretching his stiff muscles, before turning and offering you his hand. You took it, letting him pull you up to your feet. He didn't let go of your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours, holding on with a gentle, firm grip.

You quickly packed up the picnic basket, rolling the quilted blanket and tucking it under your arm. Silver immediately reached over, taking the heavy basket from you with his free hand, insisting on carrying it himself.

"We should probably head back," you noted, looking at the setting sun. "If Sebek hasn't formed a search party by now, I'll be shocked."

"Let him search," Silver said calmly, a rebellious sparkle in his usually serious eyes. "I am in no rush to return to Lilia’s toxic baking. But... I suppose we must."

The walk back to the campus was slow, deliberate, and entirely peaceful. The woods were darkening, but Silver guided you flawlessly through the trees, his senses perfectly attuned to the environment. He kept your hand tightly secured in his, his thumb rubbing slow circles against your knuckles.

When you finally emerged from the tree line and approached the imposing, gothic gates of the Diasomnia dorm, the silence was shattered.

"THERE HE IS!"

Sebek’s booming voice echoed across the courtyard. The green-haired guard was standing on the front steps, looking frantic, holding a massive, glowing magical lantern.

"SILVER! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?! THE SUN HAS SET! THE YOUNG MASTER HAS BEEN WAITING TO PRESENT YOU WITH HIS GIFT! I WAS ABOUT TO DRAFT A SEARCH WARRANT FOR THE ENTIRE CAMPUS!"

Silver sighed, though his smile never faded. He squeezed your hand one last time before gently letting go, preparing to face the chaos of his family.

"I am right here, Sebek," Silver called back, his voice calm, grounded, and completely devoid of its usual morning exhaustion.

As you reached the steps, the heavy oak doors opened. Malleus stepped out, his ancient, green eyes sweeping over Silver, noting the relaxed posture, the bright eyes, and the hand-woven bracelet resting on his wrist. Malleus’s gaze shifted to you, and a knowing, imperceptible smile touched the corners of his lips.

Lilia popped his head out from behind Malleus, looking completely unbothered.

"Ah, the birthday boy returns!" Lilia cheered. "And you brought the Prefect! Excellent! The tart has finally stopped screaming, which means it is ready to be consumed! Come inside, come inside!"

Silver looked at you, a look of mild, humorous terror crossing his face at the mention of the tart. You laughed, shaking your head, stepping up to stand beside him.

"We'll face it together," you whispered to him.

Silver looked at you, the warmth of the sunstone pulsing steadily against his wrist, grounding him in the reality of your presence. He looked at his loud, chaotic, immortal family waiting for him on the steps, and then he looked back at you, the mortal who had chased away his nightmares.

For the first time in his entire life, Silver did not feel like a fleeting, tragic thing. He felt awake. He felt alive. And he felt entirely, unconditionally loved.

"Yes," Silver smiled, gesturing for you to walk through the doors first. "Together."

----

And there you have it. A quiet, sprawling, intensely detailed forest feast for our beloved Sleeping Knight.

Sometimes the grandest celebrations are not the loudest ones, but the quietest moments spent with the people who truly understand you. I hope this extensive serving properly celebrated Silver, giving him the peaceful, waking birthday he so deeply deserves.

Thank you for joining me in the Lounge for this special event. Eat well, sleep peacefully, and please, come again.

-

“You need to trust your instincts more.” Silver advised off-handedly, eyes half-lidded as he met Sebek’s gaze.

The half-fae bristled indignantly, snapping to face Silver, his expression twisting. He was already feeling rather sensitive, having failed to muster his courage to talk to you, and the knowledge that Silver had bore witness to his failure only made it sting more.

“And what do you mean by that?” Sebek scowled, crossing his arms.

“You were about to approach the prefect, were you not?” Silver hummed, looking past Sebek to where you stood - now being crowded by the two Heartslabyul first years that always clung to you, eating up your time and attention. “You should have. Now those two are hanging off them again…”

Quite literally, in Ace’s case. The ginger had slung his arm over you, leaning into you with an impish grin that had Silver’s pretty features twisting into a stern frown.

Sebek followed his line of sight, and that scowl of his deepened further.

“How vexing.” Sebek scoffed, promptly spinning on his heel and marching back towards you with a single-minded focus. His nerves were apparently forgotten in the face of a threat.

Silver trailed after, all too happy to hear Sebek causing a commotion as he scolded Ace for stopping the traffic of the halls, pestering the Heartslabyul first year into stepping away from you.

He cut in then, stealing away your attention as Sebek’s focus drifted to Ace and Deuce.

When the three first years finally settled down, you and Silver had already slipped away.

-

You observed them for a few minutes when Silver gave motioned for Sebek to take over.

You were confused as he came to you. You were certain he wouldn’t be done for another couple hours.

What shocked you even more was when he picked you up in a bridal carry.

“Silver?!”

He kissed you softly on the head, “You looked like your feet hurt.”

Oh.

You thought you had hid that pretty well.

“It hurts a little bit.”

You felt him hold you closer.

You snuggled into him.

Well, you weren’t going to complain if you got to spend extra time with him.

To you, Silver was like a fairytale prince. To many others, he was just a goody two-shoes with a blank slate of personality. There were very few who could infer what went through his head, and none of them were helpful with his... Predicament.

•

There was no doubt that he loved you, his significant other. So much to the point where he was afraid of any misstep that could cause him to lose you.

Silver strived to respect your boundaries, understand your emotions, and treat you with the greatest respect. That's why, when he first realized his obsession with your resemblance to a horse, he did everything to resist it. The other beastmen seemed to refuse having their ears or tails touched. Did that mean it was dehumanizing to you, as well? Or perhaps it was uncomfortable? He couldn't risk such a thing.

He would often hold your hand or fidget with the baton at his side in an attempt at restraint. If he couldn't hold something, his hands would tense, extending and clenching his fingers where you wouldn't see. Silver's eyes did their best to remain gazing at your face, a mental reminder for every time his gaze trailed back to your ears.

Most of his efforts were sufficient enough, but his attempts at not speaking about your features was rather unsuccessful. You could be talking about the weather or the cafeteria's new food—Silver's expression dazed as usual—before unintended words slipped from his lips, like "your ears look adorable today, as always" or "your tail is soft and shiny, like fine silk."

It was especially egregious whenever he fell asleep, as he could no longer filter his language. He would mumble about his beautiful partner, more beautiful than any flower in the world, and how he would love to run his fingers through their hair or play with their ears. Hearing such things was hardly exclusive to one person, either. The thoughts had addled his mind so badly that most students who caught him sleeping would consequentially hear his subconscious confessions. By now, nearly everyone in Diasomnia knew—Lilia tried pushing him to "go for it", and Sebek considered his restraint "cowardice". Perhaps they were right.

•

He tried. He really did try.

Over the weekend, Silver invited you to a walk in the forest, finally planning on asking for permission. There was only the ambiance of complete silence as you walked side-by-side, occasional glances being cast in your direction, and hands clenching tightly again...

Why couldn't he peel his eyes away from the cute bounces your ears made whenever you took a step forward?

Or the sway of your tail that showed how you relaxed around him?

What was wrong with him? His father taught him patience and self-control, but the sight of you stole it all away.

He would've punched himself right now if he could, but that would alarm you. Silver opted on taking a deep breath instead, tapping you to sit against a tree with him as he internally reasoned a midway between his yearnings and your comfort.

"My love, would it be acceptable if I wished to brush your hair? I promise to be gentle—to not break a single strand, or tug on it.

"Brushing it? That's normal, isn't it? Come on, you don't have to be so serious about it!"

You playfully bumped his arm with your fist, sitting on his lap with your face turned away. He now had free range of a beautiful "mane"... and absolutely took advantage of every second. A brush was already prepared on the back of his belt for moments like this, starting from the crown to the ends. His fingers ran through the locks, letting out a romantic sigh at the otherworldly feeling. He would refrain from comparing it to a mane, just to be safe.

Silver could have been there all day had he not fallen asleep against your back, the sensation too calming to resist. Unbeknownst to everyone, besides his perceptive father, Silver had very quietly sulked in his room that night. All of that hard work, only to have his moment ruined by those accused sleep spells.

•

He decided to give it a break the next morning, figuring the previous encounter was more than enough to satisfy his reflexes. Silver was accompanied by Sebek for equestrian practice, a normal occurrence.

He wasn't prepared to see you laying across the field with Samson, soaking up the mild sun rays of early morning. His breath hitched when he caught sight of your ears perking up, sensing the sound of his familiar footsteps. You were almost like Samson in that regard, ears at attention and head turning in unison to Silver's direction. Both were very fond of him, and he was too.

It was also a very quick reality check for him to realize that yesterday's brushing did not prevent his intrusive thoughts from resurfacing. Your ears were far too expressive to ignore! He needed to pet them! To scruffle them up! But that wouldn't be chivalrous...

"Good morning, love..."

The rest of the words died in his throat, replaced with a non-existent lump he couldn't swallow down. He practiced this moment in front of the finches at his dorm window all night, yet the sight of your adorable gestures syncing with Samson left him speechless. He tried to be "forward" instead, as he was advised; that, too, was a failure.

You stared in confusion, watching Silver's hands reach for your head, only to retract at a halfway. This repeated several times. He tried at different angles, with different hands, even meditated a few minutes into this complicated ritual... But it only ended with a step back to a default, respectful distance. Though Silver's face remained stoic, he had a slight wobble. He was actually going to faint like some sort of victorian woman. His brain was completely overcharged from indecisiveness. Sebek had to grip his arms to keep him standing straight up, almost feeling the secondhand embarrassment.

"Do you need something, Silver? You've been acting odd for a while. Are you feeling ill?

"Ah..! No, I was... There was a leaf on your head."

Sebek gave a pointed look to Silver, then at your spotless hair. The lame excuse was more than enough to push his limited patience off the edge.

"SILVER! HAVE YOU NO SPINE?! YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED AS A RETAINER OF MALLEUS! To have such trouble asking for a request as simple as petting a pair of ears... You CLEARLY aren't as good at courting as I would be!"

He was frustrated, then smug... Perhaps forgetting he was single, still. Nonetheless, it made the blood run to Silver's cheeks in a nervous blush. You had unmistakeably heard all of that when he was least prepared.

"That's it? You just wanted to pet my ears?"

"Yes, well..."

"Go ahead?"

You truly didn't mind, at all?

Silver looked at you like a deer in headlights, as if all of his concerns were simply insignificant all along.

How could you say that in such a casual way?

His steps towards you were hesitant, choppy, until he couldn't hold it in anymore. He slung himself onto you, mindful not to hurt, before scrubbing your ears with cuteness aggression. His fingers worked through the same motion he would use on Samson, just... A lot more enthusiastic to make up for lost time. It was rare for him to show such excitement.

•

Silver skipped equestrian practice for the first time, whisking you away to the same forest trail so he could do things the right way. He was humming softly now, tucking flowers into your tail as he braided it. You let his fingers tangle in your tail as he straightened the strands, a sigh of contentment escaping his lips. All of his previously tense and fidgety behavior was gone, replaced with his characteristically serene presence.

It became a new tradition in the relationship.

⤿

You look pretty when you're concentrated.

That’s what Silver believes.

That’s what he has thought for months now, observing you from afar but never actually speaking to you. He had no reason for it, he reasoned. You weren’t classmates, you weren’t in the same year, you weren’t part of the same club as him, and you didn’t go to Diasomnia often. But still, he found comfort in observing you after class, two tables away from you in the library, too focused to even notice his gaze.

Lilia had suggested to him the library as a better place to study, saying that maybe he wouldn’t fall asleep so quickly there, with so many people around, but he wouldn’t be too distracted by sudden noises, as he would be in Diasomnia, and Silver followed his advice.

The first day he failed, horribly. He chose a corner that was way too lonely, making him fall asleep through the whole evening before the librarian went to him to ask him to leave due to the late hours.

The second day was better, as he chose a more transited table, with enough people passing around to keep him alert. But it was way too crowded, and when he got up to look for another book, someone else had already taken his seat.

On the third day, he found a nice spot, with few people and a lot of silence. He took a seat at the table next to the window, and that’s when he saw you. He knew who you were, as everyone in the school. A magicless student from another world wasn’t often seen around, after all, but you never had the opportunity to talk before.

And he found encouragement in how dedicated you seemed to read the giant books that awaited next to you, all of them providing you with information about a world you knew nothing about yet. At first, he gazed at you when he felt himself about to fall asleep, but a few weeks later, he watched you just for the sake of it.

His father had spoken to him about the concept of love at first sight, quite a lot of times, but he never thought much of it. He was a knight, he had a duty and no space for anything else for anything but his family, even less for affections originated from things as superficial as someone’s appearance.

But then he saw you, and it was more than that.

And you started to greet him after weeks of sitting on the same spots of the library, as you thought it’d be polite to do so, getting surprised at the soft reddish tone that appeared on Silver’s cheeks when you spoke to him. You never believed he’d be such a shy person.

From then on, you still sat in the same seats, but would engage in conversation, from time to time, even if it wasn’t often, as you were occupied most of the time with the pile of books that always followed you, never becoming smaller. Silver, on the other hand, was also busy with his homework, which he could finish faster if he hadn’t started to daydream as he gazed at you.

“Hi, Silver, had you been doing well?”

“Yes, I have, thank you for asking.” He answered with his usual blunt voice. “I’ve seen you struggle with History of Magic, perhaps you’d need help with it.” He’d add nonchalantly.

“I’d appreciate it, thanks for the offer.” You’d answer with a soft smile.

Yet he remained silent, not being able to offer his help, as you quickly went to your seat after the brief greeting. You had a test for tomorrow and no time to lose. And he had a report to finish for Crewel’s class, one that would be finished already if it wasn’t for his gazing habits.

“Lilia told me you were good at physical training, is that right?” You asked one day, as you carried your books as usual.

“He's right. As a knight, it’s important to have great strength.”

“Would you mind helping with a certain exercise Vargas taught us? It’s far more complex than I thought and I’d like to know before the next class.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t mind helping if I can.”

“Thank you, Silver.”

From then on, and after he had helped you with the exercise, you’d speak more often. About school, about your friends, about his training. About the restaurant you’ve been wanting to go to for the past month. About how he was free the next Saturday. About you telling him that Grim would stay with Ace and Deuce for the weekend. About him saying he had errands to run that day. About you asking him if he’d like to stop by the restaurant to join you for lunch.

Then you started to hang out at Diasomnia more frequently, saying it was nice and quiet as long as Sebek wasn’t around. It was natural, Silver thought, as you were Malleus’ friend, Sebek’s classmate, and an avid fan of the Pop Music Club, of which Lilia was part. You had a lot of reasons to be there, he believed, and he didn’t think much of it when you stayed even if it was only him, without Malleus, Sebek or Lilia.

But one day you’d stayed late, none of you noticing the darkness outside, too concentrated for it. Silver was quite proud of himself, getting focused enough to read for long hours, only noticing how much time had passed as he felt a light weight on his shoulder. You had fallen asleep. 'How funny', he thought, he was usually the one doing that.

So, he put all your books in your backpack and picked you up to carry you towards Ramshackle.

When he went back to his dorm, he realized. Was there something different in the way he held you, as if he was carrying a rare treasure? Or in the fondness he felt when you thanked him half asleep for bringing you home? Or in Lilia’s teasing when he arrived at Diasomnia, as he claimed to have raised a Prince Charming who treated his beloved with kindness?

But he knew he was no Prince. He was a knight, with a duty. To Lord Malleus. To his father. To his family.

Yet, when you confessed that you saw differently, one day, in the middle of the library, he couldn’t bring himself to reject you, too enamoured by the affection of your gaze and the tenderness of your voice.

'A knight can also be capable of love', Lilia had told him when he confided his worries.

You were perfect for him, after all. He could imagine you accompanying him through his training. Staying for the night at Diasomnia. Getting close to all the people he adored deeply. Fighting with Sebek at late hours when he wouldn’t allow you to have a night snack. Backing away when Lilia offered to make it for you. Laughing with Malleus as Sebek and him would try to convince the vicehousewarden to stay away from the kitchen. Coming back with him to his room to sleep in each other’s arms.

Coming back to his homeland with you for the holidays. Sending you letters when he was away in his fourth year. You moving to Briar Valley after graduation. Malleus becoming king and making him one of his main knights. Coming back home at night to your smile, after long days.

But then he blinked, once, twice, thrice. He had been falling asleep more often, lately. His eyelids were too heavy for him to avoid it, he couldn’t blame himself for it. He turned away his gaze from the window, looking at the seat that was two tables away.

The seat was empty.

It had become unbearable, the loneliness of that place. You wouldn’t come back with him to Diasomnia, or to Briar Valley, or to a home that was both yours and his.

You wouldn’t come back at all.

He was a knight, he couldn’t leave himself failing once again, as he had already failed the duty he had to you.

Only leaving him dreaming of what could have been if you hadn’t put yourself in front of him when Malleus attacked him during his overblot. If he had protected you from the pain and the fear that he observed in your eyes as you faded away in his arms.

Now you only existed in his dreams, and it wasn’t enough for him.

⤿