The tower where you rested was silent, except for the rustling of the curtains in the cold wind and the soft crackling of the stone fireplace. You, his lovely wife, lay on the bed, weak and pale, but not in danger, just something that drained your strength, leaving you dependent on Daemon. He did not leave her alone for a moment. He brought her cups of warm wine, herbal concoctions, adjusted heavy wool and silk blankets, massaged her aching shoulders, and remained by her side, attentive to every sigh, every moan of discomfort. Each cough of hers squeezed his heart; each sigh of exhaustion seemed to take his breath away.

Amidst all this care, a strange but tender thought crossed Daemon's mind. It was unfair that you had to face this alone, he thought. Why not share the weakness, share the burden? After all, a marriage was not made up of two separate lives, but of one flesh, one soul. And so, before he knew it, Daemon began to accept the cold, the discomfort, the fever, staying by your side, feeling every moment of weakness together.

He curled up next to you, alternating between kissing your forehead, stroking your hair, resting his face against your neck like a wolf seeking comfort. At first, you found the gesture strange, but you soon realized that all he wanted was to be close, to share every pain, every chill, every moment of vulnerability.

Now, there you were, side by side, both stricken by illness, but together. The bed seemed narrower, but safer. Daemon breathed heavily, but with a hoarse laugh between coughs and moans of discomfort, murmuring:

"If you have to face this, then I'll face it too... I won't leave you alone for a moment."