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Heavy steps walked the familiar path down the halls that led to everyone's rooms. He had intentions of heading to his own, after his time away; the comforts of a warm bed and his own sheets called to him.
But alas, there was another agenda he had to see to first.
He stopped in front of a wooden door. Gave it a swift knock to at least announce his presence. Another swift knock with no reply. Gloved hands touched the doorknob, twisting to notice it was unlocked.
He would have to remind her about locking her room door later.
His eyes scanned the room, not as sparse but fitting for a woman who travels more often than not—focused on the bed, a lump under the covers. Again, his agenda is at the forefront of his mind. He walked towards the foot of the bed, carefully sitting so as not to sit on her.
"Are you awake?"
No reply.
Slowly, he lets out a soft breath. His hand found a place where her shoulder should be. He felt her twitch under his touch. There, he smiles at her.
"The others had been worried," he confessed, "you seemed distant. You know, if you feel uncomfortable talking with them, you can talk with me. Perhaps this old bard can help."
All he gets in reply is a small sigh.
At first.
Soon, movement from under the covers as she pops her head into the air. There, he looks at his love. There were faint dark circles under her eyes. Despite that, her eyes held concern (and perhaps embarrassment) at the situation. Then she looked away, down to her hands.
Were there new scars on her hands?
"I had hoped the others wouldn't notice. It's just-"
Another breath.
"It never gets easier, does it?"
He recalls that in talking with the Resistance, he remembered mention of a hero of renown who was on the front lines. His eyes widened, remembering more of the sordid details of said battles. In the brief moment, their eyes had met. Her stare went southward to her hands. Once a prideful look, she stared at them with a hint of disdain.
"I know that the causes truly worth fighting for are never free of sacrifice."
She looked at him once again, against the night, her light blue eyes revealed the pain. She told him everything about her time in Bozja. The battles and the visions, of those they had lost. Of those she couldn't save. Despite the brave expression she normally displays, it's in these moments that give him a blunt reminder of how short a time she truly has been fighting.
In these moments, he remembers the starting adventurer he met under the Sultantree.
"She asked me to kill her," she finally said, "and for a brief moment I considered it. Someone asking me that… It made me realize I have a strength that people could ask that. And it scares me."
She buried her head in her hands. He would usually try to find something to say to ease her worry, but only silence came to him. What could he say in this moment of candidness? He let out a small breath before taking off his gear. She looked at him in confusion as he dressed down to just an undershirt and trousers. Lying down on the bed, he brings her to him in a hug. Under the embrace, he felt her stiffen before burying closer into his body. Not that it was the first time they had found themselves like this.
"You don't have to," she said, "you just got back from the field."
"I know."
He pressed light kisses on the top of her head down to her forehead. He felt her body gradually relax under him. It was in the moment he could fully take her in, just as herself and not the champion of the people. A tiredness that those who put the weight of everyone upon their shoulders seem to have.
"The fact that you consider the weight of having that strength means that you are more than worthy to wield it. I will not do a disservice and lie to you. I don't know if it will get easier, especially with the duty placed upon you. But what I do know, you never have to suffer alone in these feelings. You have Urianger and me, who love you and would never hesitate to help lessen your burdens. And let us not forget the multitude of friends who, after everything you've done to help them in their times of need, would be glad to extend that same help to you."
It was in that moment that she looked into his eyes. He could still see the tiredness in her eyes. Yet it seemed his words lightened that mental load. At least he hoped it did. She pressed herself closer to him, her hands intertwining with his. Her head bumped softly against his chest.
"Thank you," she murmured.