Elena woke screaming.
Not loud — her throat was too raw for that — but sharp, broken, enough to rip her out of sleep and into darkness. Her chest heaved. Her ribs ached. Sweat clung to her skin despite the cold.
Hands — in her dream — dragging her back into the cell.
The cloth over her mouth.
The crack of a slap.
The taste of blood.
She choked on a sob she didn't mean to make.
Her door slammed open.
"Elena."
Soren crossed the room in three strides, the torchlight from the corridor catching on his armor and the worry carved so deeply into his face it almost didn't look like him.
She flinched before she recognised him.
That alone shattered something in him.
"Elena," he murmured again, softer now, kneeling beside her bed. "You're safe. Look at me."
She tried. Her eyes stung too much.
He reached out, then paused inches from her shoulder — waiting, as if she were made of glass.
She nodded once.
His hand settled gently at the curve of her arm, warm and steady.
"What did you see?" he asked.
"Everything," she whispered, voice cracking. "I kept… going back there. I couldn't stop it."
His jaw tightened, but his touch remained impossibly gentle.
"Then you don't sleep here tonight."
She blinked. "What?"
He stood.
And held out a hand.
"Come."
"Soren… I can't just—"
"Elena." His voice dropped, deep and certain. "You are shaking. You wake alone. You fear shadows that are no longer real. You will sleep where I can hear your breath."
Her heart kicked painfully.
"That is… extremely overprotective."
"Yes," he said without apology. "It is."
She stared at his hand — large, steady, calloused, terrifyingly safe.
"I don't want to be a burden," she whispered.
His eyes darkened, fierce and unyielding.
"You are not a burden," he said. "You are the reason I still breathe."
Her stomach flipped.
That was unfair. Illegal. Emotionally irresponsible.
She took his hand.
He pulled her gently to her feet, steadying her when she winced at her ribs, and guided her through the quiet hall. The castle slept, but Soren walked like a man who would destroy anyone who attempted to stop him.
His chambers were larger than she expected — dark stone, warm lanterns, shelves of maps, weapons hung with meticulous precision.
He brought her to the bed.
Elena froze. "Soren—"
"You sleep," he said, brushing her shoulder with unexpected tenderness. "I keep watch."
She frowned. "You… aren't sleeping?"
"No."
For a moment, the only sound was the crackle of a lantern flame.
Then—
"Elena," he said quietly, "I need you somewhere I can reach you in a heartbeat. If I am to keep you safe, I must know you are near."
"You mean… across the hall wasn't close enough?"
"No." A faint, dangerous smile. "Not anymore."
Her stomach twisted itself into a pretzel.
He stepped back, giving her space. "Lie down."
She hesitated.
He crossed his arms. "That was not a request."
"You can't just order me—"
"I can," he said calmly, "when it concerns your safety. Lie down."
God, why was that… attractive?
She huffed, climbed into his bed, and immediately sank into the warmth of thick furs. His scent clung to them — pine, leather, cold air, a hint of something darker that made her heart lurch.
He drew the covers over her carefully, as if afraid she'd shatter.
"Soren," she whispered, "you don't have to—"
"I do."
He took a chair and dragged it close to the bed — close enough that if she reached out her hand, her fingers would brush his.
He sat.
And stayed.
Elena swallowed. "You'll really sit there all night?"
"All night," he said simply, "and every night you need."
"That's… intense."
"You've met me," he replied dryly.
She almost laughed. Almost.
Instead, she shifted slightly under the blankets.
"Soren?"
"Hm."
"If I have nightmares again… what will you do?"
He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, gaze locked on hers with a heat that was almost physical.
"I will wake you," he said. "Hold you if you let me. And remind you that I am real… and they are not."
Her breath hitched.
"Soren…"
"Yes."
"…thank you."
Something flickered in his expression — something unguarded, raw, almost boyish beneath the carved hardness.
He leaned back slightly, just enough to ease the tension in his shoulders.
"Sleep, Elena."
She closed her eyes.
But just before sleep finally claimed her, drifting warm and heavy under his watchful gaze, she whispered into the darkness:
"…I don't mind being here."
Soren inhaled sharply.
But he didn't speak.
Because if he did, he might have said something neither of them was ready for.