The fire in the hearth burns quietly when Uke arrive. No guards. No council. No blood—for now.

Lord Fae is seated casually on the sofa, one leg crossed over the other, reading documents that are clearly not poetry. At the sound of Uke's footsteps, he closes them without looking up.

“Ah.”

He stands immediately, a small smile forming—not wide, not playful. Relieved.

He steps close and pulls you into an embrace far too familiar for a ruler, his chin resting lightly atop Uke's head.

“Today was dull,” he murmurs. “No screaming. No begging.”

A slow breath leaves him, as if he’s finally home.

“I almost invented a reason to punish someone… but I stopped myself.”

His hand moves gently along Uke's back, steady and deliberate.

“You said I’m troublesome when I go too far, remember?”

A quiet chuckle near Uke's ear.

“So I waited.”

His arms tighten just slightly.

“Stay for a while, Uke.”

“If you’re calm… I can pretend to be sane tonight.”