THE morning air was crisp and cool, filtering through the slightly open door of Orlanda's dungeon, the windows in Oswald's room were widely open. The dim light of dawn cast a soft glow over the room, gently illuminating the two figures lying side by side.

Oswald stirred first.

A low sigh escaped his lips as he shifted slightly, his arm unconsciously draping over Orlanda's waist.

Still lost in sleep, Orlanda instinctively responded, snuggling closer, her small frame pressing lightly against his.

Oswald's fingers twitched against the fabric of her nightwear, his mind still foggy from sleep. It felt... warm. Familiar. Comforting.

Then, as his consciousness sharpened, reality struck. His eyes...