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His bed was warm, filled with the finest sheets and covered with layers of wool and silk, arranged in such a way that he could wrap himself up endlessly and never be without the warmth always afforded to a prince.
Yet it was never enough.
So often did his limbs stretch out in the night, reaching across the endless divide until his hands and feet found nothing but the edges of his bed. A half-huff, half-whimper would escape him at what he found, or, perhaps, what he didn’t find.
His head would press desperately into his pillow, breathing in the everlasting scent of sandalwood until it was all he could smell. He would toss and turn restlessly before eventually settling into a weak sleep, only to wake with his neck, back and head incredibly sore come morning.
Now, however, his head nuzzled softly into his pillow, its texture far silkier and smoother than he remembered. This time, it smelled of the bitter earth he so often associated with something, something his sleep-addled mind couldn’t quite remember.
He pressed his nose further into it, rubbing his cheeks and eyes against the softness until a dazed, satisfied sound escaped him.
He pressed himself further into the soft sheets covering his bed, the fabric feeling almost heavenly, and suddenly felt the need to grab onto it, to pull it closer until it covered him too. His hands roamed over the silk, pressing against something that was somehow too soft and yet firm at the same time, something that seemed to bounce back each time his fingers deftly pressed into it.
Then, in his exhausted, half-asleep state, his body rolled.
His long limbs fell atop the silky sheets, wrapping themselves around them as his head sank back against the pillow and that strange, comfortable firmness beneath it all.
He allowed his body to completely and utterly relax against the bed that felt far more heavenly than usual.
Then a strange sound escaped from somewhere below him.
“Hrrrek!” It sounded somewhere between a gasp and a distressed cat.
He huffed a sleepy laugh. He could almost picture a cat sending him its own version of a glare, its blue eyes looking up at him despite being far smaller than he was.
But then, what was that sound?
It wasn’t as if his bed had suddenly developed sentience and begun making cat-like noises. And it wasn’t as if he owned a cat either. Not one that remained in his bed while he slept, at least.
He didn’t own a cat…
Shit!
He scrambled upright beneath the covers, his body lifting abruptly from the withering limbs beneath him. His head snapped downward, his gaze nervously searching through the darkness until he found a pair of blue eyes glaring up at him.
Hair was stuck across her face—and, he realised with horror, inside his mouth from where he had been nuzzling against it. One of her hands was pressed firmly against his chest in what appeared to have been a desperate effort not to get completely squished.
How had he forgotten?
How had he forgotten that Maomao had stayed the night? That she had looked so tired as they ate that he had offered for her to stay over, and she had actually taken him up on his offer? That she had made absolutely certain they weren’t touching when she reluctantly agreed to share his bed?
He couldn’t believe he had almost squished his future wife to death!
He rolled off her slowly, clambering away with far more awkwardness than any prince should possess.
He looked at her with a sorrowful expression despite the room being almost pitch-black. “M-Maomao… I am so sorry.”
He winced at his own words. She would never want to sleep with him again at this rate.
She didn’t say anything. She only narrowed those eyes at him as if debating whether to poison him in his sleep or simply kick him out of the bed.
“Really!” he continued. “I… I didn’t mean—”
“Why did you get off?” Her low, tired voice emanated from where she still lay half beneath him, tucked into one of the blankets with it wrapped snugly around her. She looked so incredibly cozy.
“What do you mean, why did I get off? I would have squished you!” he whisper-yelled. Really, where was her sense of self-preservation?
Her eyes flattened as she gave him an unimpressed look. “You wouldn’t have completely squished me, sir,” she insisted. “I’m not that weak.”
He looked down at her again, now raised carefully on his forearms to prevent himself from lying on top of her. “Debatable,” he murmured under his breath. Then, considerably more confused, he asked, “Did you… want me to lie on you?”
He couldn’t believe the words escaping his lips. Here he was, currently in bed with the woman he wanted to make his wife, and she was requesting that he lie on top of her as though she were some kind of bug that needed to be squished. Perhaps he wasn’t the only one with masochistic tendencies.
“Well, it’s up to you, sir. It really doesn’t matter.”
He had known of Maomao’s ability to deflect for long enough to know what she really meant.
With a quiet, resigned sigh, he slowly lowered himself back onto her small body, careful not to move too quickly and startle her. He felt her silk clothes against him and smelled the bitter herbs that always seemed to cling stubbornly to her skin. Then he settled his head against the soft strands of her hair, breathing in their familiar scent.
He could only just make out the way she muttered, “Pervert,” under her breath. Still, he felt her relax beneath him. He heard the sigh that left her lips and felt the subtle way she pressed herself upward into his warmth. Carefully, he allowed more of his weight to settle against her, pinning her more securely into the softness of the bed.
She seemed to enjoy the limited range of movement, and he found himself wondering if she would ever allow him to wrap her in a blanket until she could barely move. He would pull her against his chest so he could recharge. Would she press herself into him then, too?
His head rested beside hers, close enough that he could make out the tiny purr-like sounds leaving her with every breath. The sound brought a smile to his lips, and he nuzzled his face further into her hair, only to hear the quiet noises grow a little louder.
She really was a cat… An adorable, pretty, intelligent cat that was all for him.
He wrapped an arm around her torso, pressing against the still-too-small figure and promising himself that he would feed her more from here on out. Whenever she arrived for their dinners, he would make certain there was always food sent back with her.
“Is this alright?” he asked earnestly, careful not to go too far despite the fact that she was practically begging for it.
In the darkness, she seemed so very tired. He could tell she was trying desperately to keep her eyes open, only for them to fall shut again every few seconds. More pleasantly surprising was the small smile slowly spreading across her exhausted features.
She nodded against him, nuzzling herself further into his warmth despite there being very little room left for her to move. “Mmm… yes, sir. It feels fine.”
It was then and there that he decided he would do everything in his power to keep this woman beside him.
He would give up every power that was his right, give her all the poisons she could ever dream of, and make sure he kept that curious little mind of hers entertained.
All in the hopes that she would agree to be close to him again. That she would allow herself to feel this at ease, completely relaxed with him at her side.
He gave her one last smile. Her hair was fanned out around them, her body relaxing further and further beneath his until there was no tension left in her at all.
Then his own breathing slowly evened out.
Her tiny purrs continued to fill the quiet room, and with Maomao warm beneath him and the bitter scent of herbs replacing the sandalwood that usually surrounded him, he finally allowed sleep to take him.