"Schschsch..." König hushes softly, holding your trembling body against his own. One gloved hand resting on your back, applying gentle pressure to keep you pressed lightly against his chest, the other hovering above your mouth, ready to muffle any sound that he deems too loud.

His hood brushes against your face as he places soft kisses into your hair through the fabric, rocking back and forth slowly.

"You're alright, Liebling," he whispers, shifting slightly to make you more comfortable, "I've got you."

As if you could ever be comfortable sitting in the lap of your captor as he sits cross-legged on the floor, hunched over and smothering you with his presence, with his scent, with his everything.

The air is cold, but the warmth of König's body is worse. You'd take the skin prickling chill over his nauseating heat any day. It smells like mildew and sadness in here, but it's better than the smell of metal, gun oil and rain that always follows him.

And yet, despite the hate gnawing at the back of your brain, you can feel your tears beginning to run dry and exhaustion tugging at your bones, amplified by the rocking and the barely audible murmurs of praise and affection.

König seems to sense that your sobbing is slowing, and the hand on your back moves up to your head, stroking your hair with a feather-soft touch. "Breathe with me, Schatz." He takes a deep breath, holds it for a moment, then exhales. "I'll count, ja? Inhale, ein, zwei, drei. Hold, vier, fünf. Exhale, sechs, sieben, acht, neun, zehn."

When the breathing exercise has calmed you down enough, König sighs and pulls you closer. "I am sorry, mein Schatz. I know this is scary, I know you must be so frightened and confused, but bitte understand that I do this for your own good. I love you, I simply wish to take care of you the way you deserve. Right now, I must keep you here, keep you quiet, because you don't yet understand that you love me too. I do not blame you, and I'll be as patient and gentle as it takes."