[POV: Solenne]
After the tense confrontation between Thalos and Ruvan, Solenne was exhausted. The three had spent several long, uncomfortable moments together before she finally had enough.
[I'm going to go to the room.] She signed to Thalos, who nodded and relayed the message.
"That's fine. We have a lot to… discuss," Ruvan shrugged. "Don't get lost."
Solenne shook her head and slipped out the large door into the corridors. She was used to traversing the woods alone, so her memory and sense of direction were reliable. It didn't take long for her to find the King's bedroom.
She heaved a sigh.
'That was overwhelming, no wonder you are exhausted,' Serai noted.
'No kidding. I'm already unfamiliar with people, but those two are especially difficult to understand…' Solenne admitted. She padded to the fireplace, whose flame had extinguished while she was exploring.
Solenne managed to coax it back to life with half-dried wood and a broken piece of flint she found under the velvet-draped table.
'If only it would burst into fire without me doing anything, like the first night.'
Somehow, the room felt less haunted now. Perhaps it was because she had spent so many days there and gotten used to it, but whatever the reason, she was more comfortable.
It was still ancient, still scarred by time, but warmer. Both literally and figuratively.
She moved to the bed and sat curled beneath the blanket, legs tucked to her chest, prepared to flip through an old book written in a language she didn't know. She found it on the floor when she was tidying up.
It didn't matter that she couldn't understand it, because it wasn't the words that mattered—it was the silence and the stillness. The feeling that she wasn't being forced to hide, alone, in a shabby cottage outside the Thornehowl Pack's central city. She felt… free, despite her circumstances.
Lost in her thoughts, hours passed.
She didn't hear the door open. She didn't sense the shift until his scent flooded the chamber. His aura and scent crashed over her in a wave.
Ash, ancient cedar, worn leather… and a hint of spice.
He didn't say a word as he entered, boots dragging as though the floor had grown too heavy to carry him. His shirt was still ripped and had become half undone. His hair was wild, his eyes hollow.
He looked like a man half-alive.
Solenne straightened, uncertain. He hadn't come to this room other than to feed her or give her strange warnings when the voices got too loud.
Until now.
He stared at her and flatly said, "You're in my bed."
She blinked.
Ruvan's gaze swept the chamber, as if seeing it for the first time—how she'd rearranged the pillows, how the hearth was lit, how it no longer reeked of dust and despair.
"It smells different," he muttered. "It smells like… you."
He stumbled forward, not quite graceful, and collapsed on the edge of the bed, half-sitting, half-falling like his limbs were no longer listening to him. One hand curled into the sheet, claws barely retracted.
Solenne held her breath for a moment. She wondered, 'Does he need help…?'
"No," he snapped—and Solenne jumped slightly. It sounded like he was responding to her question… but upon closer inspection, that wasn't the case.
His words were not directed at her. She could tell he was answering something else from the distant expression in his wild, golden eyes. Something inside.
Then he spoke again, "I just need sleep—a few hours. The voices are loud, and the gods won't stop watching. They're coming for me again…"
Ruvan tipped his head back, teeth clenched.
"I let you stay here," he said, as if reminding himself. "Because it was quiet. Because you were quiet." He looked at her finally and added, "But now it's my turn."
Solenne hesitated, then motioned to the table, signaling that she would sit while he slept on the bed.
"No." It was immediate. Sharp. Not angry—desperate. He reached out and grabbed her wrist firmly, but not tightly. "Stay."
She stilled and observed as he lay back, his breath uneven, lashes dark against pale skin. The bed dipped with his weight. He released her arm once he felt she didn't want to leave.
"If I wake up screaming, don't run," he muttered.
Solenne watched him for a moment longer, then slowly eased back into her place, facing him on the far side of the bed. She didn't want to be too close, but couldn't make herself go too far, either.
So, she was just… there.
⸻
[POV: Ruvan]
Sleep came in fractured shards.
First came memories of a man… a man who betrayed and locked him beneath the mountain. A man whose name and face eluded him.
He felt the fortress breathing through the walls. Felt his name being whispered by mouths long dead. Heard claws on stone, old voices trying to convince him that he was still buried, that the mountain never broke, that she wasn't real.
But when Ruvan opened his eyes, she was still there. Soft, unmoving, and watching him like he was something precious.
Ruvan exhaled slowly. "…It's quiet again."
He turned on his side, hand brushing over the pillow between them.
"I didn't dream… only heard a few things," he said, then paused. After a moment's hesitation, almost childlike, he added, "Thank you."
⸻
[POV: Solenne]
Even if she could speak, she wouldn't know what to say. He had only been asleep for an hour, and from what she could tell, his rest was fitful at best. For him to be so relieved after such mediocre rest…
'He must be suffering so,' Solenne frowned slightly. 'What happened to this poor man?… I can't imagine…'
She reached over and tugged the blanket slightly higher over his chest, then instinctively touched his cheek with her palm.
Ruvan looked momentarily shocked, but his intense golden gaze softened as he looked at her. Ruvan made a low, contented sound—something between a growl and a sigh—and closed his eyes once more.
Solenne scooted closer to him, no longer frightened. His enticing scent warmed her chilled heart and sent unfamiliar feelings through her body. She touched his long, white hair and caressed it gently, noting how matted and dirty it was.
'He needs to bathe,' she thought to herself. Then, she looked down at her own blonde hair—it was in a similar state. 'Okay, we both need to bathe.'
A smile tugged at the corner of her lips. He looked pleasant when asleep, and his brows weren't creased like usual. Instead, a relaxed expression graced his pointed features.
Maybe—just maybe—he'd sleep through the night.