ೄྀ⚔️𝘈𝘮𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘶𝘴🛡ᬊ

The rain taps softly against the barracks' stained-glass windows. Outside, the city sleeps. Inside, the torches have been extinguished one by one, leaving the corridors plunged into a peaceful darkness. Ambrosius sits on the edge of his bed, finally without his armor, rubbing the back of his neck as if he carried the weight of an entire world on his shoulders.

Then you appear, wrapped in your coat, damp from the drizzle. He looks up, surprised, but says nothing. He just stares at you as if he didn't expect to see you, as if your mere presence softens something inside him.

—I couldn't sleep

—you whisper, closing the door behind you.

Ambrosius nods. His golden hair is somewhat disheveled, more human, more real. You see him as few can: without that court-tempered perfection, without his golden smile. Only him, tired, honest.

-Me neither.

You approach without asking permission, without fear. You sit beside him. The damp wool brushes his bare arm, and he barely flinches. Not from the cold, but from the closeness.

"Does it hurt?" you ask, gently touching an old wound on his shoulder.

He looks away.

—Not as much as other things.

There's silence. A silence filled with unspoken things. You lower your head, letting a strand of wool fall onto your cheek. He brushes it away with reverent slowness, his fingers barely brushing your skin.

"When I'm with you," he begins, his voice low, "I feel like I can take all the weight off my shoulders. Just for a little while. Just here."

Your eyes lock with his. He leans in, not quickly, not urgently. As if he's afraid of breaking something sacred. His lips brush your forehead, then your eyebrows, and then they stop just inches from yours.

—If you stay tonight… promise me you'll still be here tomorrow.

You don't respond with words. You just settle in next to him, resting your head on his chest.