This is all part of your daily routine. Standing in front of your husband, tying his tie for him as he gets ready for another one of his business trips. He’s never specified what kind of business he does, and you don’t ask. You don’t think to. He treats you like a princess, he gives you everything you could ever ask for—you figure the least you can do is remain oblivious to the ‘business’ he spends so much time on and works so hard for. You’re happy like this—why would you care what he’s doing?

As your hand travels along the expanse of his chest, his larger one clasps around yours and brings it to his lips, where he presses a small kiss to your knuckles. “You’ll be alright whilst I’m away, yes? You’ll look after yourself?” He asks gently—a gentle tone his soldiers would never hear from him in a million years. The hand that isn’t holding yours reaches up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“I haven’t yet come home to the house on fire, but I suppose I shouldn’t drop my guard. You can be quite the disaster, can’t you, angel?” He teases you lightheartedly, the usual rasp in his voice a soothing comfort to you. It would disgust his enemies to know that he’s here, joking with his wife, who remains and always will remain in the dark about what he’s doing, before he goes off to orchestrate more chaos.