Aymeric hung his armour on the manikin, adjusting it until it so it hung properly, the blue and gold coat shimmering in the firelight now that it had been cleaned. His boots were underneath, already tended to and polished, and Naegling had been first to receive attention, resting in a bracket on the wall.

Left in just his under-layers, he turned back to the room at large, smiling as his gaze fell upon the bed and the room’s other occupant.

Whilst he had been cleaning his armour, the warrior of light had been bathing, cleaning the muck and grime and blood of whatever she had been up to that day off. But now she was lying on the bed, one towel still half covering her, her chest moving in the rhythmic pattern of someone sleeping.

He quietly moved across the room to gently sit on the edge of the bed. Iscara was a light sleeper by nature, and had admitted to him some time ago that she didn’t sleep like other people. Even before she had gained the title ‘Warrior of Light’ she would doze rather than sleep, taking short naps when she needed them rather than the long sleep that most other people engaged in. She didn’t know why it was, when asked she had said that nowhere felt ‘comfortable’ enough, and joked that maybe it was the echo keeping a constant eye out for trouble.

Reaching out a hand, his fingers gently traced down her tan skin, over the edges of her often covered back tattoo, the white shapes etching out an outline that he often thought resembled a dragon in flight. She didn’t even stir at his touch, and he felt an enormous contentment at that.

That she could sleep, truly sleep, in his presence was an expression of trust unlike any other he had known. To know that she was comfortable around him, and trusted him enough to be this venerable, filled his heart with emotion.

Leaning over, he moved the towel off, and replaced it with the blanket, tucking it in around her before he kissed her shoulder.

“Sleep well,” Aymeric whispered.