Under a Dimmed Sun [UNCENSORED]

SII: Chapter LXII: The Coronation [15+]

Peter's eyes fluttered open to the soft glow of dawn filtering through the curtains. He was lying on fresh linen, his body wrapped in the luxurious warmth of the bed. As he tried to orient himself, he felt a gentle, familiar weight on his chest. He looked down, and there she was—Alice, her delicate frame resting on his bare chest, her hair cascading over his skin. Her eyes slowly opened, and a smile graced her lips.

"Peter," she murmured softly, her voice a balm to his aching heart. "I've missed you."

Before he could respond, they were enveloped in a tender kiss, their lips meeting with a long-awaited passion.

Suddenly, Peter jolted awake, his heart pounding. His surroundings were starkly different from the dream. He was alone in a dimly lit chamber, his head throbbing with pain. He looked down to find a female hand resting on his bare chest, but instead of Alice's familiar touch, it belonged to a courtesan from the night before.

"For God's sake," Peter muttered, massaging his throbbing temples. The dream's remnants clung to his mind, making his current reality feel all the more jarring.

He hastily covered his lower body with the blanket, leaving the courtesan lady exposed. Reaching for the wine bottle on the bedside table, he poured himself another glass, hoping the alcohol would numb the persistent ache in his head.

"Argh, my goddamn head," he groaned, taking a long swig from the goblet. The sharp taste of the wine did little to alleviate his discomfort, but it was a welcome distraction from the disappointment of rude waking.

The door to Peter's chamber swung open abruptly, and Edward entered, dressed in formal attire rather than his usual armor. His face brightened upon seeing Peter. "There you are!"

The courtesan, roused by the sudden intrusion, gasped in shock. Her eyes widened as she realized she was entirely bare. With a shriek, she scrambled to cover herself, clutching the blanket in a futile attempt to shield her exposed form.

Edward, momentarily taken aback, raised a hand in a calming gesture. "Woman, calm down. There is none of you I haven't seen unclothed in this place."

The courtesan, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, looked frantically around the room. She saw Peter, who was nonchalantly covering himself with the blanket, his expression one of detached annoyance. Quickly grabbing her dress from the floor, she yanked it over her head, covering herself as best as she could. With a final, mortified glance at Peter and Edward, she fled from the room, her footsteps echoing down the corridor.

Peter, meanwhile, continued to massage his throbbing temples, the commotion having done little to rouse his interest. He sighed heavily, struggling to shake off the remnants of his headache and the disorienting dream. The chaos of the morning was a stark reminder of his harsh reality, and he wished for nothing more than a moment's peace.

Edward, observing the scene with a mix of amusement and concern, approached Peter's bedside. "Looks like you had quite the night," he said with a wry smile, though his eyes held a trace of genuine curiosity. "How are you feeling?"