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One could have mistaken the woodland prince’s footfalls for a dwarf as they grew heavy upon entering his shared chambers with his beloved.
Rarely did the prince commit the careless act of allowing dirt to track the halls of the kingdom, yet his boots caked with remnants of the forest floor follow him as the door closes behind him. A sigh holding a handful of burdens departs from his lips at the sight of an empty room. His eyes glaze over the neatly made bed, staring at the smoothed covers as though they are taunting him. Moonlight leaks through an exposed window, and he frowns among the darkness that has overtaken the room. Whoever prompted the notion of elves slipping through the passage of time was sorely mistaken it seems, as it now feels to him that it has been an eternity since he last bid you farewell (which was this morning, soft kisses pressing onto your cheeks as you slept soundly). The possibility that the weight of your absence could evoke such a hold on him was something he failed to consider when he began courting you—and now the once tireless and perhaps even invincible prince finds himself in a poor state without the loving nature your touch provides as he transforms from a deadly warrior into a wounded bunny.
“Meleth nîn?” [ 'my love' ] His voice is quieter than his usual velvety tone, and his arms feel so empty without you tightly wound within their hold.
“In here!” You call from the bathing chambers, swiftly tying a robe over your waist before his steps follow your voice as though he's been coaxed by a spell. He smiles, relief in his eyes, shoulders relaxing as he greets the scent of woodland herbs that permeates within the bathing room. Strong arms pull you into an embrace and you are taken aback by his towering frame for a moment, shuffling slightly as he leans against you. His hand cradles the back of your head and he sighs, inhaling the scent of you while you bite back a laugh. “Hello,” you greet him softly and your head lifts to meet his gaze. His lips press onto your temple in a wordless reply and you sense that he is in extra need of your attention. "Long day?" You smile and his kiss trails to your lips.
"Lay with me." He says, and suddenly you are nestled next to him under warm covers with his face cocooned into your neck. His boots lay discarded at the foot of the bed, bracers tossed next to the fireplace that crackles lightly. Your hand works gently to undo his braids, delicate fingers running through his light tendrils. You are certain that he will clear both of your schedules tomorrow, and you are even more certain that you will not be able to leave his side for at least another day. And you have no objections, smiling as his hand finds yours and your fingers interlock with his.