Steam still clung to their skin as they entered the bedroom, air still warm from their joint bath. Morning sunlight poured through the window in golden light, bathed the room in a sleepy haze. Lavender soap smell lingered delicately between them—gentle, soothing.
Leon looked towards the side table by the window and smiled.
"Hey, Rias already got our clothes ready," he mentioned matter-of-factly, sauntering over with the towel still low on his hips.
Aria looked where he did—on it were two neatly folded sets of clothes. One, Leon's usual golden-white robe, royal and shining. Next to it, something new.
A gown of rich purple silk, with tiny silver threads embroidered on the edges that twinkled like stars pinned on velvet.
Her feet stopped. Eyes lingered.
"...That's not my maid dress," Aria whispered, voice low, uncertain. "So, I don't wear this dress."
Leon spun around, towel low on hips, brow creased in confusion. "Why not wear it?"
"I... I'm still your maid," she told him, her voice getting smaller, fingers fluttering over the hem of her towel.
There was a brief silence and without a word, Leon moved closer.
"Ow—!" she squeaked, jumping back as his fingers slapped her forehead.
She looked up, wide-eyed. "Leon..."
He stood, raised brow, feigned anger.
"How many times do I need to remind you?" His voice was gentle, although he attempted to be stern. "You're no longer my maid. You're my wife, Aria."
He moved closer, his presence warm, commanding—but gentle.
"Not just for your loveliness—though you are lovely enough to wear anything," he told her, voice dropping. "It's a statement. That you are my equal—not behind me."
Aria's heart pounded wildly. Confusion and happiness wrapped around each other like vines of light and darkness.
Wife... he called me his wife again.
He wants me to wear it... as his equal?
She glanced at the gown, then at him. Her heart hurt sweetly with emotion.
She smiled, slowly. A small, shy, but genuine smile. "...Okay," she breathed, eyes shining with something between embarrassment and hope.
She moved in the direction of the wardrobe, flinging open its heavy doors with firm hands that shook ever so slightly. She took out a pair of purple under garments—plain silk with beautiful cut. Turning around, she felt his eyes on her back.
A warmth crept up her cheeks.
He's looking... I'm know. But... he's my husband now... it's alright... if he seeing me... right?
She swallowed; breathing unsteady. Then, with a quiet determination, her fingers touched the knot on her towel. Her face colored, a soft pink spreading across her cheeks.
The towel slipped. The cloth dropped in a slow whisper to the floor, exposing her body in full morning radiance. Her creamy skin, flushed from the bath, shone softly. Her breasts, soft and full rose and fell with each breath, pink nipples stiff in the cold air. Her slender waist flowed into gentle hips, thighs smooth and soft, and between them—her womanhood—bare, unclad by cloth—trembled slightly under the warmth of his eyes.
Leon's breath caught, hardly audible.
His eyes—usually so tranquil—now seethed with pent-up hunger. Hunger sparkled behind the gold like Sunfire restrained by mere threads.
She's mine, he thought. My wife... and she's beautiful.
But he remained frozen, restaining—though his knuckles tightened a little where he clutched the towel around his waist.
Aria sensed it—his warmth, his eyes, his silence. She blushed deeper.
His eyes... they burn like fire on my skin... but... it's not shameful anymore. It's... warm. Comforting. Even if it makes my heart beat fast...
She stretched back, fastening her bra, her breasts swelling upward into the black silk. The panties followed; the fine fabric curled around her hips as she stepped into them. And then she put on the gown—the purple silk draping over her curves like water, accentuating her elegance, her presence. Her hair, wet still, glimmered as she let it cascade down behind her in loose waves.
At her back, Leon had not shifted.
She cleared her throat quietly, glancing over her shoulder.
He was still gazing at her.
"...Leon," she whispered, hardly above a breath. "You're staring."
His gaze snapped up to hers, and a crooked, wicked grin appeared on his lips.
"Blame me?" he said, inching closer, voice low and husky. "My wife appears... perilously hot at the moment."
"L-Leon...!" she squeaked, putting both hands over her face. "W-What are you saying?!" She spun away quickly, hair falling to cover her blushing face, but her ears were bright red right down to the tips.
Leon laughed, warm and teasing.
She hid her face in her hands. "Y-You... you just teaser..."
Then she peeked out between her fingers.
"...Can you please get dressed now?"
He grinned even wider. "As you wish, my lady."
With one pull, his towel fell. Aria emitted a little, strangled sound and hastily turned around—but not before getting a glimpse of his chiseled body, the V-cut of his hips, and—his powerful, long and thick manhood.
Her knees quivered a bit. And she cleared her throat.
Leon slipped on his robe effortlessly, the golden-white material draping over his shoulders, clinging to his body with carefree ease. He drew his black hair back, securing it loosely at the base of his neck.
Aria, her face still pink, smoothed out her gown, attempting to steady her pounding heart.
They stood before each other.
He extended his hand. Took hers.
Her fingers wrapped into his with ease, as if a remembered dance from another existence. Her eyes locked with his.
And in that still, sunny instant, there were no words necessary.
Hand in hand, hand and hand, husband and wife walked out into the light—dressed in finery, tied together in love, and prepared to meet whatever the world had waiting.