Aveloria hadn't meant to fall asleep. She had only wanted to sit briefly while Galen worked at his desk, sorting through scrolls and reports from the border. The soft rhythm of his movements, the quills' quiet scrape, and the lantern's faint hum lulled her into a rare sense of calm. She felt safe enough to close her eyes for the first time in days.
When Galen turned from his desk, he heaved a sigh. Her head rested against the back of the chair, her hair spilling across her shoulders, and one hand curled loosely on her lap. The tension she usually carried in her jaw, shoulders, and guarded mouth was gone. She looked almost fragile.
He hesitated before moving closer. Then, without a word, he slid an arm beneath her knees and another behind her back. She stirred faintly, whispering something he couldn't make out, before settling against his chest. He carried her into the adjoining room and laid her gently on his bed.
