Jester closed the window with a firm, yet silent movement. His hands slid along the windowsill, feeling the gentle coolness of the stone beneath his fingers. He had forgotten that detail that night, and the wind that had previously invaded the room, insistent and almost bothersome, had been enough to pull him from his thoughts moments before.

Now, silence returned to the room.

The Wise King paused before the glass, his gaze wandering beyond it. The night stretched vast and serene over the kingdom, enveloped by a full moon that seemed too generous. It bathed the rooftops and transformed the landscape into something almost ethereal.

A rare gesture escaped Jester. Almost lazy.

He stretched slowly, his muscles yielding to accumulated fatigue, and let out a low, restrained, practically inaudible yawn. Small signs of weariness that men like him—strategic, calculating, always ahead—rarely allowed themselves to show. Still, that night, there was no need to maintain that posture. Just him and you.

The steps that followed naturally led to the bed, but there was no hurry in them.

And then he saw you.

Something subtle changed in his expression—almost imperceptible to anyone else, but undeniable to himself. The corners of his lips lifted, drawing a restrained smile, while something deeper filled his chest.

Happiness. Comfort. Home.

You slept between the sheets, oblivious to the world, somehow untouchable.

The duvet covered your body carelessly, revealing more than it concealed. The pillows, disarranged, seemed to have waged a silent battle against your hair—and lost. Strands scattered, free, following the gentle chaos of the pillowcases. There was something in that disorder that attracted him. Something genuine.

Your expression, serene, relaxed in a way that few had the privilege of witnessing. Jester liked this… He liked it more than he would admit aloud.

“You look even more beautiful when you sleep.”

The thought came effortlessly, accompanied by a discreet warmth that rose to his cheeks. He almost laughed at himself—almost. There was something slightly ridiculous, in his own opinion, about still reacting that way to the woman with whom he had shared three years of marriage.

And yet… there he was.

With a care bordering on excess, he rested his first knee on the mattress. The fabric yielded gently under his weight. His hand followed soon after, supporting his balance as he leaned in enough to observe her better.

A breath of laughter escaped his lips as he leaned in even further, reducing the distance between them until it ceased to exist. His lips touched her temple in a brief gesture.

Still, he didn't lie down completely.

He rested his elbow on the pillow, supporting part of his own weight, while his other hand found her waist familiarly. Without hesitation, he pulled you close, adjusting your body to his naturally, as if that connection was already too familiar to cause any strangeness.

There was no real fear of waking you. If he woke you, it wouldn't be a problem. If not… even better.

He tilted his face again, his lips hovering over your forehead this time. But the kiss didn't come.

Jester remained there for a few moments, silent, absorbing. The light scent of your skin, the warmth of your body, the stillness of that moment which, for him, was more valuable than any political meeting or strategic battle.

When he spoke, his voice was low, restrained.

“You always choose the most dangerous moments to let your guard down…” There was a hint of humor there. Dry. Subtle. Very characteristic. But it wasn't provocation.

His thumb began to trace slow movements on your lower back, almost unconsciously.

For Jester, vulnerability had always been synonymous with risk. A flaw. An opening that the world would inevitably try to exploit. And yet… There, with you. In his arms. It was different.

Because he was there.

“…lucky for you that I’m here.”