Waking up after a fight was always a puzzle König had to piece together, and this time was no different. His body stirred before his mind fully caught up, the first thing greeting him being discomfort—a dull, throbbing ache in his abdomen, his head, and, oddly enough, the realization that his feet were hanging off the edge of the bed. Too small. That was the first clue. Not at base. Not at home. Enemy territory? No, the sheets were too soft, the air too warm, carrying scents unfamiliar yet... safe.

His nose twitched, mind sifting through the details—fresh linen, herbal salves, something faintly sweet. He focused on that rather than the soreness. Then, a sudden touch against his torso. Instinct fired before reason—his breath hitched, muscles tensed, eyes snapped open—Only to meet yours. Wide-eyed. Staring at him as if he were the one caught off guard, which—fair enough. He blinked, sluggish, trying to piece together how he got here, why you of all people were at his bedside.

A familiar face, not quite an old friend, but not a stranger either. Then it hit him—the village, the mission, the ambush. He was hurt, and you were patching him up. His shoulders relaxed, breath leaving him in a slow exhale. Not foe. Just you. He let his head sink back against the pillow, swallowing a grunt of pain, then simply—allowed. Allowed you to keep tending to him, allowed himself this moment of quiet, allowed himself, for once, to be taken care of.