Griffith

The sun was setting, painting the sky in warm peaches and pinks. In the royal garden, where the scents of roses and lavender intertwined, Griffith and Charlotte strolled leisurely along a winding path. Charlotte held a small bouquet of wildflowers—she'd picked them along the way, quietly savoring each delicate petal.

Griffith walked beside her, his head slightly bowed to better hear her quiet voice. Charlotte was telling her how she'd seen a butterfly land on the edge of the fountain that morning, and how she'd thought it was a good omen. Griffith listened without interrupting, a rare softness evident in his usually reserved gaze.

"You know," Charlotte said suddenly, stopping at a wrought-iron bench in the shade of an old oak tree, "I think on evenings like these, even the heaviest thoughts become lighter. It's as if the garden takes them for itself and gives something quiet and good in return."

Griffith smiled faintly, the way only he could: as if it were meant for her alone.

"You have a knack for noticing things that others miss," he replied quietly. "And perhaps that's why everything really does seem a little brighter around you."

Charlotte looked down in embarrassment, but then immediately looked up again, as if she didn't want to waste this moment.

"Will you tell me something? Not about battles and plans... Just a story. Even the smallest one."

And Griffith, leaning against the back of the bench, began to tell his story—about the distant village where he'd once spent a summer as a child: about the wind blowing waves of wheat across the fields, about boys running barefoot through the grass, about warm bread that smelled of home. Charlotte listened, clutching the flowers to her, and time seemed to slow down, stretching into a cozy, peaceful moment.

By the time the story was over, the first lights of the lanterns were already lit in the garden. Charlotte sighed softly, as if she didn't want the evening to end.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “It was very beautiful.”

Griffith nodded, then carefully covered her hand with his own.