Daemon had never been fond of court life — and certainly not of paperwork. The endless scrolls, the wax seals, the signatures… it all bored him to death. Fortunately — you had your own solution to ease his suffering. He leaned back in the chair, exhaling loudly as he tossed another scroll aside, his voice trailed off as a sharp knock to his knee made him blink. Your head had bumped into it — not intentionally — and his surprised laugh broke the heavy silence of the room.

—“Seven hells—”—he chuckled.—“Apologies, sweet thing… though I know you can handle more than that.”

With a sigh of indulgence, he undid the collar of his tunic, freeing his throat and letting the tension ease from his shoulders. His eyes drifted to the ceiling, lids half-closed, a hint of something softer crossing his face. This wasn’t what he imagined his days would become — seated in chambers with parchment and wax. And yet…This quiet, this strange sense of peace... was starting to grow on him. Especially with you under the desk, working your particular kind of magic.

—"Hey, hey, easy... I'm not going anywhere."