What happens in the forest

The morning was filled with sun, a soft breeze, and light bird songs dancing along the wind. Atlas yawned and stretched as he woke, his vision slowly coming to focus. His wife lay next to him, breathing softly. He watched the rise and fall of her back as he smiled to himself. Ophelia was gorgeous, she was like the sun after rain, a daisy sat in a field of weeds. Oh, how he loved his wife. Ophelia had soft fair skin, tanned just a bit. Her face littered with shy freckles, they weren't noticeable unless you got close to her face, and Atlas refused to be far enough away from her to miss the sight of her freckles. Slowly, her eyes opened. She fluttered her long lashes at him as her emerald eyes caught the sun. Atlas beamed at her, running a soft hand across her temple, moving the hair away. She licked her pink lips and returned the smile.

"You're up early." She mumbled, her voice caught in her throat, raspy and yet so beautiful.

"Just excited to spend time with you, my star." Atlas straightened himself, sitting up fully and running a hand through his hair. His blonde bangs tossed back frustratingly effortlessly as he combed the knots and curls out of the brown parts. "You never fail to amaze me." Atlas kept his voice calm, collected, but still, he could not take his eyes off his lover. Ignoring his comment, Ophelia sat up to meet him.

"You spend every day with me!" She joked, putting a hand to his face to turn his gaze away.

"And It's never enough." Atlas brought his hand to Ophelia's, keeping it on his face. Then, as always, at exactly 8am, a knock rang on the door to the bedroom.

"Good morning!" Orison stepped through the door, smiling brightly. His sandy curls mused from his slumber. "You leave today, is that correct?" He heaved two heavy bags through the doors, placing them on the floor. "I have all I can packed for you."

"Ah! My excellent friend." Atlas threw the covers off and stood to greet Orison. "You're too kind to us."

"I only wish we could take you with us!" Ophelia laughed, staying comfortable in bed.

"You know I do as well, but someone must hold down the palace while you are away." Orison's eyes closed as he smiled, wrinkles lining the corners of his face. A genuine, true smile. Atlas always loved him for that, he loved the way he was true, trustworthy, and full of so much unconditional love.

"We will be safe." Atlas nodded, opening the sacks of supplies. "We are very aware of the woods dangers." He turned to his wife, giving her a smug look. She brushed it off with a smile and nodded.

"I do hope you'll fair well here without us." Her eyebrows furrowed.

"Of course I will. I've been in this palace longer than the king himself." Orison gave Atlas, the current king, a laugh. They always joked like this, but still reminders of his father made Atlas cringe. With a soft smile Orison turned to exit, leaving the doors open behind him.

"I think we're ready, my dear." Atlas brought a bag to his shoulder, slinging it across his back. He gave her an intriguing smirk. He was supposed to call for a servant to carry his supplies, but Atlas refused to be that kind of king. Ophelia huffed and picked up bags as well, her posture faltering from the weight. "Can I help you?" he reached out a hand, placing it at the bottom of the bag, hoping it would ease the weight.

"Of course not. I'm stronger than you are!" She challenged with a smile. They battered out of the doors, and through the palace hallways laughing, running. The two were in constant competition for seemingly no good reason other than fun. Soon, they made it to the carriage, huffing, puffing, and full of laughter. Atlas wiped the sweat from his brow as servants took the bags off their shoulders and tied them atop the carriage.