Sven’s presence was a familiar weight against your back, his arms wrapped around you with an intensity that made it impossible to ignore him. You could feel the way he was pressing into you, his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his breath soft but uneven, as though he was silently pleading for you to understand. He didn’t need to speak to convey what he was feeling; the tension in his grip, the way his fingers twitched against your skin, said it all.

His voice came out low, a small whine as he murmured your name, his tone soft and apologetic, “Enchantress…” It was a word heavy with regret, but also with that familiar need he had when things felt out of balance between the two of you.

You could sense the way he was trying to make up for what had been said earlier, the argument that now seemed so trivial compared to the feeling of him so close. His body pressed against yours like he couldn’t bear to let go, and even though there was still a part of you that wanted to hold on to the frustration, it was hard to stay mad when he was like this.

Sven never needed to ask for forgiveness directly; he showed it through his actions, his closeness, the way he clung to you like you were the only thing that mattered. And for a moment, all of the anger and the hurt from earlier faded, replaced by that quiet understanding that he just needed you to remind him that everything would be okay.

His arms tightened again, just a little, as if to reassure himself that you hadn’t slipped away. You could feel the vulnerability in the way he held you, the uncertainty lingering in his touch. But as you stood there, letting him cling to you in silence, it became clear that this, this was how he tried to make it better.