Dorset Coast - Happier || Rossian

Sunday, January 7, 1923
~ 2 PM

---

"Almost there; keep going."

Cassian led his wife through the field of knee-high wildflowers and tall grasses. It would've been easier to take the floo he'd had set up – probably a good time to test that it worked, too. But, no. For a reveal like this, he wanted the full effect of travelling even a part of the terrain while he built anticipation for where they were headed.

It had been months in the making and numerous hours of manual labour both with his father and on his own. There were weekends when he'd disappeared without an explanation, outright avoiding handing one over even when asked. To say the young man had been elusive would've been the understatement of the century, yet, given how...raw some of their emotions still were, he'd always tried to be as clear as he could that it was nothing Rosie had to worry about. Whether she believed him was something outside of his control, but he'd been working.

The proof of that crested the horizon of the wide meadow, the top of the roofing coming into view. He'd finished the panelling with his father just the weekend before, his father performing a few stress tests after to make sure the first rain wouldn't see them flooded.

They hadn't been walking for long, maybe only 10 mins from where he'd first apparated them, but he was no more inclined to tell her where they were going. It was a surprise and had been since that October evening when his father first took him out there, explaining it was his way of helping. His father tried, imperfectly at times, but the man could never be accused of being insincere. He'd seen his son floating directionlessly, craving stability and a sense of accomplishment. It had been enough for him to speak to a friend who didn't mind parting with a piece of his field for a reasonable price. His father paid it, and he was slowly making payments back to him – by his own insistence. In another three months, they would be all squared. Together, they'd gotten to work, laying each stone and carving out each piece of furniture. There were times when magic had been necessary, but it had otherwise been a project worth more than a vault full of gold.

The time they spent together had helped them more than any pep talk or fishing trip ever had. With sweat on their brows and a shared purpose, the men had worked their way through several emotions.

Now, it was done, and Cassian was ready for his wife to see the fruit of his devotion to providing her with a better life... once he took the blindfold off, of course.

"Not much further," he assured, getting them over the gentle slope and into the yard he'd so carefully tended. Cass hadn't wanted to wait until the end to plant and nourish their yard. When he showed her the cottage, the boy wanted all her favourite flowers to already either be in bloom or damn near on their way but waiting for spring. The result was a lush garden with verdant bushes and beds of flowers and herbs in neat rows that ran along the short stone wall that enclosed the cottage, keeping the rest of the untamed meadow out.

Cass took her around the side of the cottage before the landscape opened up to the cliff with its crashing waves down below.

"Ready?"

He sucked in a breath, realising it was the moment where all his hard work culminated into a final judgement. Would she love it? Hate it? Think he should've gotten her input on what their home should look like? It was too late to worry about all that now. Rebuilding would take months, and he would need her verdict before he began.

Cassian vanished the blindfold to reveal the work of his bare hands.

"Almost there; keep going."

She'd awoken late that morning to a soft kiss on her forehead, and nudges in her side that she couldn't sleep all day while her husband had plans for them. She'd groaned, smiling as she'd tried to bury herself back in her pillows, but Cassian was a persistent man and had given her no peace until he finally coaxed her out of their warm bed.

A shower, a quick lunch, and Cassian was shuffling them off to a place he refused to give any hints about.

For a few months now, he'd been elusive and secretive. There were days, weekends where she hardly saw him, while he kept his whereabouts to himself. It had worried her at first, especially so soon after their reconciliation, but he'd reassured her she could trust him, and she believed him.

It helped that Kari seemed to know what was going on and also seemed completely unbothered. Had something nefarious been going on, Rosie had no doubt her sweet mother-in-law would be on her side and tell her without hesitancy. Or thought. Sometimes Kari just blurted out things whether she was meant to keep them a secret or not.

Rosalie always found it amusing.

In any case, she'd missed him. There had been a few times she'd asked him if she couldn't come along and keep him company with...whatever the hell it was that he was doing, but he'd insisted she couldn't. She'd filled her days without him, spending time with Kari and sometimes Eira. A few visits to Julia and Maddox here and there, especially when they needed a date night away from the little ones. Fawn always needed interaction and caring for.

"Not much further."

Her heart thudded with excitement, having no clue where they were headed, but thrilled all the same. She held tightly to his hand, her feet moving carefully along the earth below them. "Still don't want to give me a hint?" She smiled behind her blindfold, eagerly waiting to see what he had in store. A picnic maybe? She'd been saying for awhile she wanted to go on one. Maybe a fun day at the beach. She thought she could smell salt in the air as they walked through the grass that tickled her legs.

"Ready?"

"Mhmm," she answered, her stomach fluttering with a mix of nerves and anticipation.

In a moment, the blindfold vanished, and the girl grimaced against the sudden introduction of bright sunlight. It took her a moment as her eyes adjusted, but when they did, her expression fell from the excited smile to one of disbelief.

Blue eyes took in the sight of the little cottage first. Cream-colored with red brick, and stone steps that led up to the front door. Wide windows, and....a beautifully cultivated little garden right in front. It looked like something out of a fairytale. A little cottage she'd only imagined when laying beneath the stars and dreaming about their future.

The sound of crashing waves drew her attention to the side. A cliff, with the ocean waiting just below. Was...was this...?

"Cassian." Her voice cracked as she tried to distinguish if this was what it looked like. Was this...their home? Was this where he had been when he'd asked her not to worry? She turned to face him, her lips parted slightly as they grew into an incredulous smile. Her eyes softened with questions while her entire body began to vibrate with emotions she didn't know how to reconcile yet.

"Is this...? Did you...?" She turned back to take in the sight of the most beautiful house she had ever laid eyes on. "Is this ours?"

Cassian hadn’t been nervous… right up until the point when he removed the blindfold.

It had been easier, working sometimes into the night with his father, watching his vision take form stone by stone. In some ways, it felt no different than envisioning a play and then watching the actors put it together week after week until there was a finished product. When his father had first given him the land, he handed it to him with a single length of parchment and had told him to make his plan. Cass didn’t know much about architecture or building homes, but it had only taken him a day for the image to take shape.

He could see it so clearly, the thing he and Rosie had spoken about some nights while falling asleep, the little details they mentioned in passing. It had always been "someday", and someday always felt like some far-off time that they could strive for without really knowing how to get to.

That day had finally come. He knew he’d put his everything into it—that he’d walked to every corner and inspected, trying to ensure they matched Rosie’s tastes as much as they did his own. It all felt like a good job while she wasn’t standing next to him. Now it was time for the final verdict, and Cassian was suddenly… very unsure. It wasn’t a bad-looking cottage. Far from it. Settled by the cliffside with the backdrop of the sea, the setup spoke for itself. Privacy, after everything they’d been through, felt important to him. Would she value all the choices in the same way?

"Cassian."

His breath lodged itself in the back of his throat, his muscles tensing while he braced for what came next. The young man had already gotten the talk. He knew that he could love every stone and board, that he could’ve poured his actual guts into it and tethered his soul to the front door; none of that obligated her to like it, too.

She smiled at him, and he could feel some of the tension melting from his muscles. Smiles were good. Smiles like that told him he at least wasn't about to be told it wasn't what she wanted.

Did he dare allow himself to breathe yet?

The jury was still out on that one.

"Is this...? Did you...? Is this ours?"

He allowed himself his own smile, one that quickly spread into a full grin as a second dose of adrenaline coursed through him. "Every square foot," he confirmed. Cassian wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him before planting a kiss atop her head. "Made it for you...well...for us. I told you I'd get us a home, a proper one. One you deserve."

His sentence tapered off, hesitation returning for a moment.

"If it's not...I mean...if you don't like it, we can fix it. I can add more. We – well, the land is actually pretty big. We've got room to expand – the garden's not set in stone, either, of course. You can replant and rearrange; it's all yours to do what you want with."

Whatever it would take to make it feel like home for her was what he wanted to do.

The house was his, technically. His father had meant it as a gift for him. But the way Cassian saw it, it was theirs yet he'd been the only one with any real input.

"You wanna take a look inside?"

"Every square foot."

Every square foot. The soft realization hit her square in the chest. A home. Their own home. Not a tiny rented flat with paper-thin walls. Not a bedroom in someone else's house. A space carved out for themselves, just her and Cassian. A dream cottage where the two of them could actually start their lives together.

There was no stopping the incredulity that bubbled in her chest, warning her not to get too attached. Not to believe it too hard, lest she wake up and realize it was all just a dream. How many times over the past year and a half had she and Cassian dared to hope or dream, feed into the optimism that naturally coursed between the two of them, only to have it all come crashing down around them?

She felt his arm wrap around her waist, her back tucking in against his chest. He kissed her head, while warmth filled her, her own hand coming to rest on his with a gentle squeeze. Her eyes didn't move, wanting to remember this moment for the rest of her life, when she stood with the love of her life in front of the home they'd dreamed of since they were fifteen years old.

"Made it for you...well...for us. I told you I'd get us a home, a proper one. One you deserve."

He was the most amazing man, wasn't he? "You...made it?" she asked slowly, beginning to understand that this was where he'd been all those days and nights when he'd asked her to trust him. A labor of love. A sweet, devoted boy building a warm safe home for the girl he loved. How long had he been up to this?

He had promised he'd get them a home. He'd promised her the world, and while Rosalie knew her entire world encompassed just the boy with freckles dotting the bridge of his nose, always being more than enough for her, he'd delivered on exactly that.

"If it's not...I mean...if you don't like it, we can fix it. I can add more."

If she didn't...like...it? Rosie turned, her eyes full of questions, not sure what he could possibly mean. In what universe would she not have loved anything that Cassian had poured his heart and soul into, especially for her?

"We – well, the land is actually pretty big. We've got room to expand – the garden's not set in stone, either, of course. You can replant and rearrange; it's all yours to do what you want with."

Her smile spread with every word that left his lips, realizing she had never loved him more than she loved him in this moment. Blue oceans swelled, drinking in every sparkle of his earthy brown and the sweet features that she would never get enough of. There was something achingly steadfast about him. When Cassian loved, he loved with his entire body and soul. With his hands. With his time. With whatever little pieces of himself he could pull apart and offer to those who mattered to him. He didn't merely tell Rosalie she was loved. He showed her in the quiet, in the ways he was able to make it tangible.

Her favorite song, remembered years later.

His hand reaching for hers, when the world became too loud.

A pretty little cottage by the sea, just like they'd said in that empty classroom, clinging to anything to chase away the fear of being torn apart.

She couldn't stop looking at him. The anxiousness in his expression nearly broke her heart. Cassian who had done something so enormous for her, was standing there, worried that it might not be enough. Worried she might not like the color, or the garden or want additional rooms, as though Rosalie could ever find fault with something so beautiful and meaningful.

He really didn't understand. The extraordinary part of Cassian that Rosie saw in him was never in what he could give her; rather it was him. It had always been him. The boy who remained soft in all the right ways even when the world sought to destroy it. The boy who could dream recklessly and shamelessly and still look at her as though she were the remarkable one between them. The man he was becoming right before her eyes while still carrying every sweet piece of the boy she'd fallen in love with.

"I couldn't love anything more," she breathed, feeling her eyelashes moistening as she wrapped her arms around his neck and hopped, wrapping her legs around his waist. She kissed him, her smile obvious with each movement of her lips. She pressed her forehead against his, letting her gaze bore into his. "Except for you. I just..." She was at a loss for words. "I can't..."

A laugh, joyous and full of incredulity burst forth as she clung to him, kissing him over and over again, each one a soft brush of gratitude and love for the boy that her entire world orbited. "You're absolutely amazing." She kissed him again, unable to get enough of her sweet husband.

"You wanna take a look inside?"

She nodded eagerly. Another kiss and another. She wanted to take in every inch of the beautiful home he'd made for them. "Show me everything."

This felt...good.

Standing there, the view of the sea and Rosie tucked into him...

Things had been on the mend since their reconciliation back at the end of summer, but even then, he could tell some things weren't the same. Healing wasn't instantaneous. They didn't forget the things each other had said, though they were actively trying not to make them govern how they allowed themselves to love. For his part, the eggshells he'd walked on had become more sturdy ground, and while there were days where he still found himself inexplicably anxious, even those feelings had begun to wane. Things were getting better, but...for the first time in an exceptionally long time, they felt...good.

Right.

Complete.

Did they still have work ahead of them? Cassian realised that everyone did. His parents were the biggest examples. At the risk of comparing apples to oranges, his own mother had left, and it had taken Cass a long time to understand how he could let her back in...how he could sit at the breakfast table and let her feed him, fuss over him, and share his bed at night...knowing that she'd chosen to leave. It hadn't made sense to him...until Rosie left.

His wife hadn't been seeking some fast life in the dancehalls, and she'd assured him that she wasn't out trying to find comfort in other men the way no one could convince him that his mother hadn't done. But he got it. A year. A decade. He'd have let her back in. The love he felt for his wife, even when wounded, had never dimmed, and standing before their house, he couldn't imagine calling it a home without her.

"You...made it?"

He shrugged a little, keeping his arm wrapped tightly around her. "Dad helped. I'd have taken you along, too. Reckon you'd have looked good sitting on a support beam here or there," motivation, you know? "But that would've ruined the surprise. Sorry to keep you in the dark like that, but thanks for trusting me."

She looked at him, and Cassian thought he could feel the emotions that swirled beneath those evocative blue oceans. They further helped to bring him down from the overly deprecating thoughts that this thing he was so proud of could still never compete with what she deserved. It wasn't that the young man thought she would outright reject it; that wasn't her. If nothing else, Rosie would've been polite and gentle, but he didn't know whether that might have made him feel better. Seeing the genuine awe sprinkled into her expression and the warmth spreading outward, he found himself less worried about receiving a 'polite response'.

"I couldn't love anything more. Except for you. I just... I can't..."

Cassian accepted each kiss. Finally, he allowed himself a proverbial pat on the back. Seeing her reaction was the only reward he'd been working toward. With each stone he'd lain, and with each nail he'd driven, he'd thought of that sweet smile and the way it could light up his entire world. It ...it made him feel ...whole in some ways – like he'd managed to get something right, really right, not just acceptable. That fed something inside him that he'd never realised had been starving, though apparently his father had.

Cassian felt...accomplished. His work as her husband wasn't done, not by a long shot, but he felt like...like he'd just gotten a little better.

"You're absolutely amazing. Show me everything."

He could do that.

Easing away, he took her by the hand instead and led her past the garden and through the front door. It opened into a moderately sized living room and an adjoining kitchen separated by an island counter. To the other end was a small dining area and a cosy spot by a pristine fireplace. Despite the presence of furniture, much of the rest remained bare. Rosie hadn't been able to decide how it was built, but he knew she liked homemaking. In every place they'd stayed, he'd watched her come to life putting things together, decorating and truly making it into a home. "She's all yours to work your magic," he encouraged, shutting the door behind them.

The windows were large but curtainless, the shelves and walls empty.

"Dad and I made the furniture, too. A bit of magic here and there," a real carpenter, he was not, "but for the most part, this was us. There's a bathroom just by the staircase there. The other's upstairs – when you're done looking around, I'll take you up there. Our room overlooks the sea."

"Dad helped. I'd have taken you along, too. Reckon you'd have looked good sitting on a support beam here or there. But that would've ruined the surprise. Sorry to keep you in the dark like that, but thanks for trusting me."

And what an incredible surprise it was. Never, had Rosalie imagined Cassian would build their house himself. When they'd talked about their dream home, she'd always thought they'd maybe stumble across a place one day, if they were lucky. Luckier if they could afford it. A house by the ocean didn't come cheap, but somehow Cassian had secured them land and exactly what they'd always wanted. "Don't apologize," she said with a soft shake of her head. Trusting each other was what they'd promised to do, wasn't it?

It wasn't easy. The past year and a half they'd been married had been fraught with uncertainty and insecurities. But after she'd moved back home with Cassian, she'd been committed to making sure she listened - really listened - to what he said, and if she was unsure, asking for clarity. She'd realized that trust wasn't something implicit. Rather it was a choice, as much as honesty and fidelity was, and she had chosen to believe him.

Things weren't perfect, and they never would be. Rosalie now found a strange comfort in knowing that perfection wasn't attainable, and rather both of them could rest easier, knowing they were trying their best. They'd still had disagreements in the time they'd reconciled, but nothing that wasn't worked through with a little patience and trusting intentions.

Standing here now, it felt like an entire different lifetime since they'd been so at odds, but it seemed worth it now, didn't it? All that struggle. All those tears. It had made them stronger, more resilient, and had made Rosalie more sure than ever they could weather absolutely anything together and come out the other end whole.

Her fingers curled between his as he led her toward the front door, the girl almost hopping with excitement to see everything he'd done. As the door swung open and she stepped inside, she held her breath, taking everything in one-by-one. The little kitchen with so much natural light filtering in through the windows. The little sitting area by the fireplace. The dining area and living room.

It was unbelievable.

"She's all yours to work your magic."

All hers.

Rosie's eyes filled with awe again as she walked slowly towards the kitchen, running her hand along the carved wooden countertop, appreciating how beautifully it set against the stone island. Above her, the exposed wood beams added a rustic character that she already knew she'd be drying flowers and herbs from. A wide windowsill where she could display her plants and little knickknacks.

The fireplace's mantel was empty, but soon she'd adorn it with all their pictures, starting from the time they'd first met.

"Dad and I made the furniture, too. A bit of magic here and there, but for the most part, this was us."

They'd made the furniture too. Cassian had laid his hands on every inch of this place. Every nail, every stud, every surface and embellishment. Every corner of their home would have his devotion poured into it. It was so much better wasn't it? Than just a house they'd found on a whim? Rosalie could already see their entire life within these walls. Lazy days, Christmases, birthdays. Eventually they might have little ones running through this kitchen, happy screams and laughter bouncing off the walls.

It was almost overwhelming, and too much to absorb. Any minute now, she'd wake in Cassian's bed back on Temple Meadow and smile, eager to tell him all about her fantastic dream.

"There's a bathroom just by the staircase there. The other's upstairs – when you're done looking around, I'll take you up there. Our room overlooks the sea."

"You've thought of it all, haven't you?" she smiled, her eyes still traveling the walls and layout. "I think white sheer curtains down here with maybe some heavier blue when we want it dark." She hummed a bit, already seeing the place come to life. "The persian rug from my old bedroom could go here between the sofa and armchairs. We can alternate the bookshelves with all your books and my trinkets."

Flowers everywhere. The place would smell like a florist when she was done with it.

She crossed the room to take his hand again. "It's so perfect, love," she said, bringing his hand to her lips for another kiss. By the time they were done with the tour, Cassian would be tired of all her affection. But how else was she meant to show him how much this all meant to her?

She tugged him towards the stairs, impatient to see their bedroom and everything else that laid in wait. "Come on, Casanova. Show me this bedroom you've made for us."

"You've thought of it all, haven't you?"

"I tried to," he admitted freely.

From the moment his father had taken him out into that meadow, unable to piece together the words that might express his depth of concern for his son, Cass had already known exactly what he would do with it. He and Rosie had talked about it enough, hadn't they? A house by the sea, a vibrant garden, nothing to obstruct their view of the night sky. Dreamer as he was, he didn't reckon he'd really seen the meadow. It started as an isolated area he believed his father had taken him to in order for them to have another of those phenomenal talks that had always ended so well. Then his father said it was his.

Just like that.

His.

A plot of land full of wild flowers by the edge of a cliff with the roar of the ocean beneath, and he could suddenly see everything it could become. 'Carve out something you can be proud of,' the man had said. Cassian didn't need further instruction. The moment his savings had grown enough to afford the materials, they'd gotten to work. All the while, he kept the vision that they'd formed through many nights lying side by side and the vision given a voice in that classroom. It really would've been better to get Rosie's input, but seeing her awe had been enough to quiet his doubts.

What remained was something warmer, something he didn't suppose he'd possessed in quite some time.

"I think white sheer curtains down here with maybe some heavier blue when we want it dark. The persian rug from my old bedroom could go here between the sofa and armchairs. We can alternate the bookshelves with all your books and my trinkets."

And there she went, like he knew she would. Cass couldn't help the slow smile that spread into a full grin as he watched the young woman he adored with his whole being begin to plan the little touches that would truly turn the cottage into a home.

Even when they'd had little, even when the surroundings were less than ...inspiring, Rosie had been able to work her magic. Given a proper canvas, he could only imagine the things she would do.

Cassian tugged her close when she returned to his side, kissing the top of her head again. "We can do whatever you want. I'd take rainbow curtains with pounds of glitter weighing it down if you told me it was all you needed to be happy." For him, the hard work—his part—was already done. He'd laid the stones; he'd hammered the beams. The cottage wasn't in danger of falling on top of their heads. Truthfully, he didn't see the need to have a say in the rest and certainly not when she was so much better at it. "But...uh...I'm glad you've chosen a respectable white and blue. Maybe next time." Or never. Never worked, too.

Cass was more than willing to accommodate all his wife's whims, but that particular declaration was made easier by the fact that he knew he wouldn't have to follow through.

"Come on, Casanova. Show me this bedroom you've made for us."

He would do just that.

Rather than letting her continue to tug, Cassian took hold of his wife and pulled her with tempered eagerness to the very top. The hall opened then, stretching on both the left and the right. Two doors stood facing each other to the right end, one their bedroom and the other the bathroom he'd mentioned. To the left of the hall stood another, solitary door housing the guest room. He nudged the door open to reveal the spacious bedroom, its wide, uncurtained window revealing the expanse of water rushing toward the cliffside.

"Hunted the view just for you," he said, tugging her past the bed and toward the window. When they'd still been planning the rooms, Cassian viewed the lot from all sides. Why have her spend day in and out watching a sea of green while the rough ocean glistened so mesmerisingly? "Some nights, it gets louder; you can actually hear it so long as the window's open."

There were nights, after spending hours deafened by the sound of his hammer banging, that he sat and listened to the tranquil waves before heading home. In those moments, he'd always had the thought that she would enjoy it, too.

"Fitted a guest room, too. You know...in case you ever wanna have anyone staying over or..." He didn't finish the sentence. Couldn't without the feeling he might be reopening old wounds. "Not as big as ours," he moved along quickly. "We're the king and queen of this castle. We get all the best of everything."

His smile mirrored her own as she looked up at him, genuine and wide the way she remembered. With time, real happiness and settled within their relationship again, but it always felt stifled by the harder feelings buried beneath. There had been times when Rosie wondered if there would ever come a day again where she felt as loved and joyful as she had the day they'd married. She hoped there would be, had been optimistic that eventually she and Cassian wouldn't feel so weighed down by the hand the world had dealt them.

She'd been intentional. Present. He had too.

This was far more than she could have ever imagined to feel again.

As he pulled her up the stairs and into the upstairs hallway, she rolled her eyes playfully at the idea that she'd ever allow rainbow glitter curtains in their perfect cottage, but she appreciated the sentiment. He wanted her to decorate it however she liked, and she would. Cassian had given her the most beautiful house.

She would give him a home in return.

"Hunted the view just for you."

She let him lead her to one of the windows, her eyes widening with the first glimpse beyond the glass.

The land disappeared before them.

Beyond the edge of the cliff, the ocean stretched endlessly toward the horizon, deep blues and sea greens shimmering off the golden light of the afternoon sun. It scattered across the surface, crashing into white across the rocks below.

Openness, endlessness, with nothing to interrupt the beauty of nature that she and Cassian could now claim for their own.

He'd picked the perfect view for her, for no other reason than he knew she would love it. Words couldn't do justice to what she was seeing, how deeply loved she felt in the moment, and how she knew nothing she could ever do would match the magnitude of what he'd done for her.

"Some nights, it gets louder; you can actually hear it so long as the window's open."

It was the only suggestion she needed. Shaking hands found the latch to the window, pushing the frame outwards to let in the fresh salt air. It flowed easily into the bedroom, filling their senses with the scent of the clean sea, cool and warm at the same time. "Every night," she murmured, unable to tear her eyes from the view before them. The sound of the waves crashing below was just enough. She knew they'd lull them to sleep every night, the soft whispy sounds carrying them away to their dreams when they laid their heads down together.

Was there anything more fantastical?

"Fitted a guest room, too. You know...in case you ever wanna have anyone staying over or..."

She felt a lurch in her chest, brief but there. She wasn't sure if his 'or' meant the same to him as it would to her, but she was glad when he moved quickly past it. Someday, she told herself, when they were both ready, maybe that extra room would hold space for their baby, but until then, there was no reason to linger on the thought.

Until then, their friends could stay there. Benji and Rae. Eira, if she and Cass could ever make nice. Freddie. Maggie. Kari and Julian could come and stay for weekends. Maybe even Maddox and Julia would want to visit.

"Not as big as ours. We're the king and queen of this castle. We get all the best of everything."

She finally turned to look at him again, her smile returning as she wrapped her arms around his waist. "I'd say I can't believe it but I can. I've always known you were amazing." Her expression turned playful again as her fingers walked up and down his back. She leaned in, mischief twinkling in her eyes, "No neighbors to disturb all the way out here."

No neighbors. No loud roads. No uncomfortable shared looks with parents.

Theirs. A home where every meal would be her decision. A home where Cassian could leave his scripts laying all over the house while Rosie griped at him. A home where he could chase her around the kitchen and she could chase him up the stairs. Every memory would be theirs until the day they were laid into the ground together.

For once, the future didn't feel like something that was waiting to happen to them. It felt present, within their reach.

"You do realize you've made a horrible mistake, though?" She raised an eyebrow as she leaned up and caught his lips with hers for a brief kiss. "You’ve ruined ordinary romance for me.” Because how would stories, films, songs...any of it even compete when Rosalie knew Cassian had just presented her with the most romantic gesture there ever could be.

Their dream home, built with his own two hands. Nothing she'd ever read, hear or even witness for herself would ever compare to what he'd done for her. Harkening back to his own words, she continued, “So the bard got his princess and built her a castle after all. Show-off.”

Maybe some fairytales were possible after all.

Cassian breathed in the salty air as it poured in through the open window. It wasn't new to him—not the way it was to Rosie—but it was the first time they would both stand in their room—theirs, not borrowed or rented or back in a home his father had been the one to own—staring out at the view together. It had been a dream for a long time, one he'd begun to think would remain just that. A dream.

When they'd first run from their parents, he'd got a real taste of reality. The second time solidified that reality, adding decorative chaos to ensure the point was well received. Things didn't ever just 'work themselves out.' Sometimes the ending could be even worse than one had ever dared imagine. Neither hero nor villain had clearly defined roles, and most crucial of all... wanting something wasn't enough to make it so.

If someone had told him just a year ago that they'd be standing in their own home, witnessing the folding and crashing of waves against a shore so far away from the hustle and bustle of the grimy city, Cass would've wanted it badly, without knowing whether he was brave enough to hope.

Now, with the salty sea air in his nostrils and the cool breeze prickling against his skin, there was a part of him that still hesitated to believe. He'd been there. He'd been the one to lay many of the stones, but the young man had become so accustomed to shying away from fairytales that the thought of winning seemed almost... sacrilegious. He didn't know who he thought he was, building a cottage by the sea with a wife so gorgeous and full of love for him, but he thought he rather liked being him.

Cass settled next to her, leaning onto the windowsill by his elbows while he let her take it all in.

Inside, his spirit was stirring, a sense of something new—a beginning that they were finally being allowed a quill to help write, rather than one they would have to read to figure out where they belonged.

"I'd say I can't believe it, but I can. I've always known you were amazing. No neighbours to disturb all the way out here."

"Not a soul to come borrowing a cup of sugar," he added, a spark appearing in his own earthy irises. Cass had never liked the communal living with the tight alleyways between houses and sometimes listening to the business of others through paper-thin walls. The boy who loved the limelight was hardly a social recluse, but he could certainly appreciate the privacy for what it was.

He would also take the praise she showered on him. It was another thing that, for so long, was absent. Them being able to agree on the image they held of him. Rosie's had always been far more gracious and forgiving, but standing there... he did feel amazing for making her so happy.

Cassian accepted her kisses readily, melting into the affection she so freely gave.

"You do realise you've made a horrible mistake, though? You’ve ruined ordinary romance for me."

For a moment, he feigned contemplation before the cheekiness returned to his expression. "I'm alright being the only one to dazzle you." Their romance was one for the ages. It didn't need to compete with anything else. Pale imitations in the end, really.

"So the bard got his princess and built her a castle after all. Show-off."

"Show-off?" he challenged, his grin spreading wide as he tugged her flush against him. "Gorgeous, I'm just getting started."

Cassian brought his lips down to hers again, ready to take her to a different sort of show.