The grandfather clock in Duke Maximilian's study chimed ten in the evening, its deep resonance echoing through the cavernous space filled with meticulously cataloged artifacts and rare books. Max stood before an expansive floor pn of the east wing, spread across an antique drafting table that had once belonged to a pre-evolution architect. His wire-rimmed gsses—entirely unnecessary for a vampire but a comforting habit from his human days—were perched on the end of his nose as he made precise measurements with a ruler.

  "If we remove this wall," he muttered, making a notation with an antique fountain pen, "we could create a more logical flow between the chambers while maintaining the structural integrity of the..."

  The door swung open dramatically, interrupting his architectural musings. Elias strode in with an elegant bck cat cradled in his arms—Ptolemy, Max's most temperamental feline companion.

  "Your cat has opinions about our living arrangements," Elias announced, depositing the purring animal onto a stack of architectural renderings. "He seems to think the south-facing windows in my quarters are superior to yours. Smart creature."

  Max carefully lifted Ptolemy off the priceless documents, brushing away stray bck hairs with the reverence one might show to a sacred text. "Cats have an uncanny ability to find optimal sunlight positions, though as vampires, we should perhaps prioritize minimal exposure rather than—" He stopped abruptly, realizing he was slipping into lecture mode again. "Sorry. I'm doing it again."

  Elias's lips curved into a fond smile. "I've come to find your academic tangents oddly endearing." He approached the drafting table, violet eyes scanning the pns. "Are those the renovation designs for our chambers?"

  "Preliminary schematics only," Max said hurriedly, as if admitting to something embarrassing. "I've been researching historical precedents for consort quarters across vampire territories. The architectural evolution is actually quite fascinating. In the early post-evolution years, most consorts maintained entirely separate wings, while by the third decade—"

  "Max," Elias interrupted gently, pcing a hand over his. "I don't need a separate wing. I need..."

  "Yes?"

  "Space for my clothes," Elias finished with a pyful smirk. "Have you seen my wardrobe? It's extensive."

  Max's shoulders rexed slightly. "I've taken that into consideration. I've allocated approximately forty-seven percent of the avaible closet space to your possessions, with allowances for seasonal rotation and formal attire requirements."

  Elias leaned against the table, studying the pns. "You've really thought this through, haven't you?"

  "I find that proper pnning prevents poor performance," Max replied, adjusting his gsses. "Though I confess I'm somewhat out of my depth. I've never shared living quarters with anyone before. Not even as a human."

  "Not even in university? No roommates?"

  Max shook his head. "I had a private apartment. It seemed more conducive to academic pursuits."

  "Well, I've never shared by choice," Elias said, his casual tone belying the significance of the statement. "In Orlov's territory, I had my own quarters, of course, but they were... isoted. My mother made sure I was kept away from anyone important. The servants who raised me did their best, but there's only so much they could do with a 'defective' vampire child."

  Max's expression darkened, that familiar fsh of protective indignation crossing his features whenever Elias mentioned his treatment in Orlov's court. He took a breath, visibly deciding not to pursue that topic. Instead, he gestured to the floor pns.

  "I thought we might convert the connecting music room into a shared study. It receives minimal direct sunlight, has excellent acoustics, and could accommodate both your reading area and my research materials."

  Elias leaned closer, his shoulder brushing against Max's. "What about this space here?"

  "The former meditation chamber? I had considered maintaining that as a buffer zone. A neutral territory, if you will."

  "Buffer zone?" Elias ughed. "Max, we're not negotiating a peace treaty between warring nations. We're deciding where to put our books and your legion of cats." As if summoned by the mention, a ginger tabby leapt onto the table, followed by a sleek Russian Blue. "Speaking of which, your feline cabinet members seem quite interested in our housing discussions."

  Max carefully relocated the cats to a nearby shelf, where they promptly curled up on top of what appeared to be a fourteenth-century manuscript. He winced but left them there.

  "They do have strong opinions about territory," he conceded. "Much like vampires, actually."

  Elias wandered around the study, trailing his fingers along bookshelves as he considered the renovations. "What if we took a different approach entirely?"

  "Different how?"

  "Instead of trying to merge two separate spaces, why not choose an entirely new chamber? One that belongs to neither of us yet."

  Max looked momentarily stunned by the suggestion. "You mean... start fresh? Without precedent or historical context?"

  "Exactly. No baggage, no territory disputes. Just... ours." Elias gestured expansively. "Your territory has, what, forty-seven bedchambers?"

  "Fifty-three, not counting the guest wing," Max corrected automatically.

  "My point exactly. Surely one of them could become our space rather than yours or mine."

  Max considered this, tapping his pen against the table. "There's the north tower suite. Pre-evolution it would have been called Art Deco in style. Excellent night views of the territory. Minimal exposure to eastern light. Structurally sound. Currently housing artifacts from the early 2000s, but those could be relocated."

  "That sounds promising." Elias moved closer again, this time deliberately resting his hand beside Max's. "Should we go look at it?"

  "Now? It's not properly cataloged for viewing. The artifact arrangement is strictly chronological and the lighting hasn't been optimized for—"

  "Max," Elias interrupted, now taking his hand. "We're not going to view it as a museum exhibit. We're considering it as our bedroom."

  Max looked down at their joined hands, then back up to Elias's face. Even after months in his territory, after everything they'd been through, the reality of their situation sometimes hit him anew—this beautiful, fascinating creature had somehow chosen him, the awkward schor who couldn't navigate a social gathering without knocking something over.

  "Our bedroom," he repeated, the phrase sounding both strange and wonderful.

  "Unless you're having second thoughts?" Elias asked, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his features.

  "No! Absolutely not. I just..." Max struggled to find the right words, an unusual predicament for someone with his vocabury. "I'm still adjusting to the concept of 'our' anything. It's... unprecedented in my experience."

  Elias's expression softened. "Mine too, if we're being honest."

  Max reached for his tablet, a carefully preserved piece of technology from the pre-evolution era that he maintained in perfect working condition. "I have the floor pns for the north tower digitized. We could review them before making the journey. For efficiency purposes."

  "Of course," Elias agreed, a hint of amusement in his voice. "For efficiency."

  Max pulled up the pns, angling the screen so Elias could see. "The main chamber has these architectural features here, with adjacent bathroom facilities that once housed what humans called a 'jacuzzi tub.' I've maintained the original plumbing infrastructure, though it's been adapted for our specific requirements."

  Elias studied the pns, then looked up with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Does a jacuzzi tub happen to be rge enough for two vampires?"

  Max blinked rapidly, clearly flustered. "I... would need to consult the specifications. The average human dimensions versus vampire proportions would require calcutions for dispcement and—"

  "I'm teasing you," Elias said, ughing. "Mostly." He traced a finger along the screen. "This looks promising. Shall we go see it in person?"

  "I should bring my measuring tools. And possibly catalog references for the artifacts currently stored there. And the cats might—"

  Elias pced a finger against Max's lips, effectively silencing him. "Just us. The measuring tools can wait."

  Max nodded, carefully setting down his pen and closing his notebook with exaggerated precision. "You're right. Preliminary observation before detailed analysis is a valid methodological approach."

  They headed out of the study and through the winding corridors of the estate, passing various night staff who pretended not to notice their joined hands. In the early weeks of their marriage, such moments had been accompanied by startled gnces and hurried whispers. Now, three months in, the staff had grown accustomed to the sight of their schorly duke and his consort in increasingly domestic situations.

  The north tower required passing through the main gallery, where several of Max's most prized artifacts were dispyed in carefully reguted atmospheric conditions. He couldn't help himself from slowing as they passed a particur gss case.

  "This communication device was actually in active use during the evolution," he said, gesturing to what appeared to be a primitive smartphone. "The battery technology was quite sophisticated for its time, though nothing compared to—"

  "Max," Elias said gently. "Focus."

  "Right. Yes. The north tower." He reluctantly tore himself away from the exhibit.

  As they climbed the spiral staircase leading to the tower, Max found himself growing uncharacteristically nervous. The concept of deliberately choosing to share living quarters—not for political appearances, not for strategic advantage, but simply because they wanted to be together—felt momentous in ways he hadn't anticipated.

  "We could install a proper dumbwaiter system," he said, filling the silence with practical considerations. "For blood service without staff interruptions. The original mechanism is still intact, though it would need updating. And perhaps a modern security system connected to the main household network. The electrical infrastructure is sound, though we might consider—"

  "Max," Elias interrupted again, this time pausing on the stairs to face him. "Are you nervous about this?"

  Max adjusted his gsses, a habitual gesture when he felt exposed. "I find transition periods statistically likely to produce unexpected variables and outcomes."

  "In normal vampire nguage: yes, you're nervous." Elias's expression was fond rather than mocking. "So am I, if that helps."

  "You are? But you always seem so certain."

  "I've had decades of practice appearing certain when I'm anything but." Elias shrugged. "In Orlov's court, showing uncertainty was essentially painting a target on yourself."

  Max considered this. "Then I appreciate your candor now."

  "Let's be nervous together," Elias suggested. "It seems an appropriate emotion for choosing our first truly shared space."

  Something about framing it that way eased Max's anxiety. He nodded and they continued up the stairs to the tower suite.

  Max produced an ornate key from his pocket, unlocking a heavy wooden door carved with Art Deco geometric patterns. "I maintain traditional locking mechanisms for historical authenticity," he expined, "though there's also a modern security system integrated into the—"

  His expnation died as Elias stepped past him into the room and let out a soft "Oh."

  Moonlight streamed through tall windows that overlooked the forested expanse of Max's territory. The room was circur, following the tower's shape, with built-in bookshelves between the windows. Various artifacts from the early 2000s were indeed arranged throughout the space—a vintage record pyer, framed movie posters, and what appeared to be an early gaming console. The centerpiece was a massive four-poster bed that looked as though it had been transported directly from a luxury hotel of the pre-evolution era.

  "This is... not what I expected," Elias said, turning slowly to take in the room.

  Max remained in the doorway, suddenly seeing the space through Elias's eyes rather than through his curator's perspective. "I preserved the original aesthetic when I converted the territory. It was a honeymoon suite in what was once a historical hotel before I acquired the property."

  "A honeymoon suite?" Elias raised an eyebrow. "How appropriate."

  Max shifted uncomfortably. "I hadn't actually made that connection until this moment. I simply appreciated the architectural integrity and—"

  "It's perfect," Elias interrupted. He crossed to one of the windows, gazing out at the moonlit forest. "These views are extraordinary."

  "The tower's elevation provides optimal vantage without compromising security," Max said, falling back on practical analysis. "And the northern exposure means minimal direct sunlight during daylight hours, which is ideal for our rest periods."

  Elias turned away from the window, violet eyes reflecting the moonlight. "Do you always analyze everything so thoroughly?"

  "I find that comprehensive understanding enhances appreciation," Max replied, then sighed. "And yes, I'm aware that's precisely what someone who over-analyzes everything would say."

  Elias ughed, the sound echoing in the circur room. "I wouldn't have you any other way." He crossed to examine the bathroom, letting out an appreciative whistle. "You weren't exaggerating about the jacuzzi tub. It's enormous."

  "The pre-evolution wealthy had peculiar priorities regarding bathing facilities," Max observed, following him. "This particur model could accommodate four average-sized humans. Or, as you noted, two vampires with considerable space to spare."

  "Now who's teasing?" Elias asked with a sly smile.

  Max adjusted his gsses again. "Merely providing accurate specifications."

  They returned to the main room, where Elias was already mentally rearranging the space. "My reading chair would fit perfectly by this window. And your research desk could go there, with proper lighting. Though perhaps we should consider new furniture entirely? Something neither of us has history with."

  "That's... actually an intriguing suggestion," Max said, warming to the idea. "I've preserved numerous design schematics from various historical periods. We could synthesize elements to create something unique to our specific requirements."

  "I have absolutely no idea what that means, but it sounds wonderful," Elias said cheerfully. "Though I do have one non-negotiable requirement."

  "Which is?"

  "Space for your cats. Many, many cats, based on current evidence." As if summoned by magic, a small bck and white kitten appeared in the doorway, having apparently followed them up the tower steps. "See? They're already conducting inspections."

  Max blinked in surprise. "That's Archimedes. He never leaves the library."

  "Clearly he's expressing interest in the relocation proposal," Elias said, bending to scoop up the kitten. "Smart little politician, securing prime real estate early."

  Max watched as Elias cradled the kitten, murmuring nonsense to it in a way that would have been unthinkable for the elegant consort he'd first met. The sight created an unfamiliar warmth in his chest.

  "We could begin the renovations tomorrow evening," he said. "I'll have the artifacts properly relocated and cataloged. The security systems updated. The appropriate cleaning protocols implemented."

  Elias looked up from the kitten, his expression suddenly serious. "Are you certain about this, Max? Not the logistics—I know you'll handle those with terrifying efficiency. I mean... us. Sharing space. Properly."

  Max considered the question with his usual thoroughness. "I've maintained this territory for decades," he said slowly. "Preserved countless artifacts, protected knowledge that might otherwise have been lost. But until recently, I hadn't considered what I was preserving it all for." He met Elias's gaze directly. "Now I know."

  The simple decration hung in the moonlit room. Elias's carefully controlled expression softened, genuine emotion breaking through his practiced poise.

  "That might be the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me," he said quietly. "And you managed it without knocking anything over."

  "The night is still young," Max pointed out. "There are plenty of artifacts I could accidentally destroy before dawn."

  Elias crossed the room, still holding the kitten, and stood before Max. "I think this might be the first decision we're making purely for ourselves. Not for political alliances, not for territory advantage. Just... because we want to."

  "I believe you're correct," Max agreed. "A statistically significant development in our retionship parameters."

  "You know, for a vampire who's supposedly bad with emotions, you have a remarkable ability to say exactly the right thing in the nerdiest possible way," Elias said, rising on his toes to kiss Max softly.

  The kitten, squeezed between them, made a disgruntled noise of protest.

  "Archimedes disapproves of public dispys of affection," Max observed when they separated.

  "He'll have to adapt," Elias replied. "As will the rest of your feline advisory council."

  They stood together at the window, looking out over the moonlit territory—Max's by legal right, increasingly theirs in every way that mattered.

  "Dawn approaches in approximately four hours and twenty-seven minutes," Max said, consulting his watch. "Sufficient time to begin drafting preliminary renovation specifications."

  "Or," Elias suggested, a mischievous gleam in his eyes, "we could test the structural integrity of that four-poster bed. For scientific purposes, of course."

  Max's eyebrows shot up. "That would be a highly subjective testing methodology."

  "Sometimes subjective experiences provide the most valuable data," Elias countered, setting the kitten down gently. "Don't you agree, Duke Maximilian?"

  A slow smile spread across Max's face—not the careful, measured expression he presented in court, but something more genuine. "Lord Elias, I believe you may have a future in scientific research."

  Archimedes, sensing he was no longer the center of attention, meowed indignantly and trotted toward the door.

  "See?" Elias ughed. "Even your cats understand the concept of privacy."

  As the kitten disappeared down the stairs, Max carefully locked the door behind it.

  "Now," he said, turning back to Elias with uncharacteristic decisiveness, "about that structural integrity testing..."

  The north tower, which had stood for over a century preserving history, was about to witness something entirely new: a future being built, one shared moment at a time.