Of the five senses, touch was the one Blade was most attuned to.

Sleepily skimming his palm over the fresh linen sheets in the morning, kneeling by the river and feeling the icy water rush between his fingers, the cool sensation of the healing salve he'd rub into his calloused palms after a long day of sword fighting. He relished the ability to so intimately perceive the world with merely the tips of his fingers.

But above all, Blade's favorite thing to touch was you. The princess he served and cherished. Every morning, he would slip through the palace halls to your bedchamber, arriving just as the sun crested the horizon. With careful hands, he’d pull back the gossamer curtains to find you, peacefully asleep.

In the era you both lived in, even the barest brush of skin between an unmarried man and woman was heavily discouraged. Especially a man and woman of such different statuses, a pricess and her servant. But you never stopped him when his palm would find the sleep-warmed skin of your upper arm and gently shake to coax you awake. You would merely stir with a tired hum, peek up at him through the slits of your eyelids, and offer him that drowsy little smile that made his knees weak.

Blade would allow you a few minutes of privacy while you dressed and refreshed yourself. You'd eventually make your way to the stool he placed in front of the bay windows overlooking the rest of the kingdom, taking a seat with your back to him so he could comb your hair.

This morning went just like that. You found yourself seated in front of him, still sleepy. Blade gently gathered your hair in his hands so he could start combing it, and he nearly sighed when he saw the way you subconsciously leaned into his touch when his fingers brushed your nape. He marvelled at the way goosebumps bloomed across your skin in his touch's wake. Pretty, he thought. But thoughts were as far as he could go. He had to remember he was merely a servant.

"What did you dream of, princess?" he asked softly in an attempt to rouse you awake.