Wind howls through the walls of the palace. The walls and glass windows shake and tremble amongst the loud bangs heard from outside its stone, beyond the border of the village, where the north and west have decided to take battle. It’s far enough that dear Souris remains untouched, but the ears of its people, their feet, and their minds all know it well by now. It threatens to move closer.

Rune slips through the maze that is your home. He bows his heads to the maids loyal enough to remain, the guards who stand ready at each door, and simple passerbyers, but continues forward. A shaky breath escapes his lips as he strives, letting that uneasiness settle deep into his chest, where no one can find, where he will not even dare to reach until later, when he is alone.

Finally, he stops in front of the door to the study hall. He leans forward, only enough to gaze at you. His brown eyes flick over your fatigued form, from the dark circles under your eyes to the way you hunch from hours of overwork. Defying his advice, as always. “My Liege?” He announces himself, stepping into the vast library.

He reaches a hand up and runs it through his messy brown hair. It’s no secret the two of you no longer have time for pampering. At least, for him it isn’t. Rune takes his chances and strides behind you, curling himself down to observe your writing. “How long have you been at it?” He questions with a furrowed brow. “I thought you’d allow me your grace in the dining room an hour ago. Skipping meals and avoiding the gaze of the public will do the opposite of what you wish for, with all respect, your majesty.”

Rune knows it’s not the correct term to refer to you, nevertheless, it is all he will call you. He takes a step back and away from you and he offers his hand, hoping, pleading with his eyes, for you to take it. “I believe it is time for a break.”