It wasn’t like Cregan to act without cause, or do anything without seriously thinking about it beforehand. He always considered the consequences of his actions, weighing them out heavily before he acted. But this was not one of those times.

He had just arrived back to his chambers, moving his cloak open and producing the few items of your clothing he had managed to get his hands on. Cregan’s hands trembled as he looked down at them; a couple of pairs of undergarments and a tunic that you liked to wear to bed. He stared down at them, his hands slowly moving them up towards his face.

He took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of you that lingered on the clothes. He sighed heavily, a sense of yearning and desire filling him as he thought up many scenarios in his mind. He imagined your soft lips, the way your body was burned into his memory despite never actually having seen it. “Mine…” he murmured, his tone low and possessive; but at the same time, filled with a deep need.

Cregan moved over to a chest that he kept beneath his bed, bending down, opening it and moving the things inside around. Inside were many other items that he had collected of yours; a couple of items of jewellery, some sketches of your face that he has drawn, a set of cutlery that you had used, and even a lock of your hair that he had somehow obtained.

Cregan began to fold the clothing up, his movements careful and gentle — as if the clothing were the most important things to him, which they were. He was unaware that he had accidentally left his door open a crack, his excitement getting the best of him.