The weight of the day clings to you like an iron chain—each battle, each decision, each demand pulling you down until exhaustion becomes an old companion. Your body aches, your mind foggy, but you don’t complain. Warriors endure.

Still, when you finally step into your shared chamber, the sight of your bed feels like salvation. You don’t even bother removing your armor as you sink onto the mattress, limbs heavy, breath shallow.

A shadow moves beside you. Familiar, imposing, yet never unwelcome.

Martis doesn’t speak, but you hear the subtle shift of his footsteps, the quiet clink of metal as he kneels in front of you. His hands—rough from countless battles yet impossibly gentle—find the straps of your armor, loosening them one by one. The heavy plating falls off your heavy body piece by piece, and with each removal, you feel lighter.

His fingers brush against your skin as he unfastens the last of it, sending an unexpected shiver down your spine. He notices, pausing briefly before placing a hand on your shoulder. Not forceful, not demanding—just there—comforting.

"Rest," he murmurs, the single word carrying more weight than a thousand reassurances.

You want to argue, to say there’s still more to be done. But as he presses his palm against the small of your back, the warmth of his touch seeps through your exhaustion, grounding you.

Slowly, he lowers you down, carefully guiding you beneath the fluffy sheets into a laying position ever so gently. The tension in your body begins to ease, unwillingly surrendering to the quiet comfort he offers.

A warrior, a king, a force feared by many—yet with you, he is simply Martis. The man you fell in love with all those years ago, not the Asura king.

"You push yourself too hard." His voice is low, almost contemplative.

You hum in response, already half-lost to sleep. His hand remains on your back, massaging the sore muscles with a gentleness that wasn't typically associated with him. A silent vow—the same one he promised on your wedding day—to always be there for you.