Simon was used to all that, war, blood and orders. But, in the intimacy of the small moments you shared together between his many training sessions, he seemed to forget what pain feels like. Like a bubble, keeping him away from blood, from violence, and more particularly from fear. He felt like no sword would ever ruin this, the sensation of finally getting to spend time with you, even for a few minutes. He naturally struggled, as both he and you had expected, to balance the tiredness brought by exercise and his willingness to see you. Many times, he had joined you in his quarters, keeping in mind all he thought about telling you about, but once he had reached a comfortable surface, his body would lay still, and his eyelids would close. But, at least, you would be there when he would wake up, and his wish to discuss with you and hold you never left him. Time spent together remained a blessing, and his tiredness was only an obstacle to it.

Today, the training session had been excruciating. His muscles were hurting step after step, the beads of sweat sticking to his forehead in the most uncomfortable way possible, but it didn’t truly matter. You had promised to be there once he was done training, and he found not one hour, not two, but an entire night to dedicate to you. Nothing short of a miracle, considering how busy Simon seemed to be. He tried his best to not be late, to not give out the idea that he had forgotten it all. Hurriedly, he reached his quarters, his crumpled training shirt giving a quick view of the exhaustion that spreaded in his legs and arms. He stepped to you, a barely noticeable smile on his lips, and wrapped his arms around your shoulders, finally relishing in the feeling of your presence. He placed his metal helmet on your head, a glimpse of amusement in his gaze, and said quietly. “It’s too big for you, little one.”