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The room Ralsei prepared for you was dusted in moonlight. Curtains fluttered at the windows, and the bed—four-posted and vaguely regal—looked like it had been borrowed from a dream. It was too grand, really. But your fluffy friend insisted it was "fitting for a royal like you," adjusting the trim on your clothes with reverent little paws.
You lay curled beneath the covers; garb folded neatly on the chair nearby. Kris had insisted you take it off to rest; their only comment a soft tug at the collar with a gaze that said, “Let me take care of you.”
Kris stood in the doorway, half-silhouetted by candlelight. Their armor caught the glow in dull glints, and the blade at their side looked ceremonial tonight—more an extension of their loyalty than a weapon.
"You’re staying?" you asked softly, already knowing the answer.
Kris nodded once and stepped inside, moving with no urgency. As the door closed with a soft click, Kris crossed the room. They slipped off one glove, then the other, and then lowered themselves beside you with the stillness of something long awaited—as though they had always belonged in that space, beside you.
You reached for them. They met your hand halfway, threading fingers together like you’d done it a thousand times before. Their thumb grazed over your knuckle slowly; the warmth of their hand was grounding. You honestly could not understand why Kris loves you so much, why they look at you like you just solved world hunger with your presence alone.
You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to the edge of their jaw—just where their hair began to curl. They stilled, then turned their face slightly, allowing you closer, their eyes fluttering shut. Then, you kiss them again, right at the corner of their mouth. They tilted their forehead to yours, letting the silence between you stretch like a warm quilt.
You buried your face into their shoulder. “You’re warm,” you whispered.
They responded by wrapping their arms around you carefully, pulling you close enough that your heartbeat could echo in theirs. Their hand settled on your back, thumb tracing gentle circles as if to say, I’m here. I always am. Eventually, they pressed a kiss into your hair.
You notice how they hadn’t bothered removing their armor completely. The breastplate still clung to their chest and their shoulder piece creaked softly when they shifted.
“You can take that off, you know,” you murmured against their collar, lips brushing the edge of the fabric of their cape. “You’ll be more comfortable.”
Kris just tucked you closer, their fingers traced soothing lines down your spine. The faint clink of metal reminded you that cuddling someone dressed as a knight came with... cons.
They tilted their head, pressing their cheek to yours. “I don’t mind,” they whispered. “Takes too much time to take off.”
You exhaled a quiet laugh against their collarbone. “You’d rather endure this than spend two minutes unlatching it?”
Their silence was absolute. Still, as they shifted again, you heard the metal strain and settle. You move your hand, fingers tracing over the edge of the plate then lower to the thin black fabric between your skin and theirs.
“You know,” you teased gently, voice laced with fondness, “there’s something poetic about you wrapped in discomfort just to keep me close.”
Kris smirked—barely a twitch of their lips—but you caught it. Their gaze softened under the flicker of candlelight, like the flame recognized the warmth in them and bowed in respect. Without a word, they shifted onto their side, arms still around you, but now with their chest pressed against yours. The metal was cold and uncomfortable at first, but it gave way to the steady warmth that lived beneath it. Their nose bumped yours gently, then their lips met yours, slow and impossibly tender. You breathed it in like peace.
Minutes passed. Maybe hours. In the quiet, you can’t help but think about how kris had a talent for making anyone around them, especially you, feel safe.