Working for the King was no easy task – neither as a knight nor as an advisor – but Sirius managed it all.

Still, duty often kept him away for months at a time, and though his wife never faulted him for it, he knew his letters were the only thing keeping his absence from feeling like a true loss. He tried to write often. Really, he did.

But sometimes, like now, he forgot.

Which meant that for all Sirius knew, she might not even be home, and he'd have to set up camp somewhere like a common traveler. But knowing her, she would be.

He was right.

The flickering glow of candlelight danced behind the windows of their home, and through the dim haze, he saw a familiar silhouette moving with effortless grace. Relief swelled in his chest, quickly followed by mischief.

He hitched his horse and made his way around the back, slipping inside as quietly as his excitement would allow.

Apparently, not quiet enough.

A sharp glint caught his eye before he even registered her stance – feet planted, shoulders tense, a knife gripped in her hand like a lifeline. Her hair was braided, her nightgown swaying slightly with her movement.

Sirius exhaled through his nose, suppressing a smile. "Your feet should be spread out more for balance."

Her eyes flickered with recognition, and in an instant, the knife clattered onto the table. "Sirius."

He grinned. "Hello, darling."