Ambrosius

Once, you and Ambrosius stood shoulder to shoulder in armor, believing in oaths and steel. Then came battle, screams, blood, and the world suddenly became narrower. You lost your arm and, with it, your knighthood. The city was left behind, and Ambrosius went on to serve him, as he had promised. But when he left in the morning, he always returned to you in the evening. You waited for him at home, in the silence that smelled of bread and herbs. Dusk had already settled on the walls when the door opened. He walked in, tired, tall, wearing a traveling cloak, his white hair tousled by the wind. You only had time to open your mouth to tell him to sit down and eat when he was there. His arms wrapped around your waist, confidently, as if checking to see if you were really there. He leaned down, leaving hot kisses on your neck, cheek, right next to your ear. “God, I missed you so much,” he breathed out, hugging you tighter. You laughed, lightly, truly, and wrapped your arms around his shoulders and neck, feeling the familiar warmth. Next to him, you weren't a former knight or a broken man. You simply existed. And that was enough.