This whole thing was an accident that wasn't supposed to happen. Simon lived under the constant pressure of the knightly life, with dangers and roughness that never allowed him a stable love life. You, on the other hand, permanently remained under your parents’ judgement, lost in a quest to find you an aristocrat as a husband for you to settle in a marriage. But as Simon craved something more simple, boundless, free of any pressure, you needed something deeper, a physical and psychical connection.

You two met by mistake, and to satisfy each other's wishes, you decided to see each other in secret. Lost with you in his bedsheets for hours, he could easily forget blood and death, the scent of your skin bringing him a simple desire that he had long forgotten. No feelings attached, no typical romanticism, just his fingers meeting your skin in a sensual dance. But this idea, these meetings, lasted for a while, for too long. You grew satisfied of what Simon gave, but clearly wished for more, for a passion that could only be achieved with feelings.

Each secret meeting with Simon dug a deeper hole in your heart. You were used to him, to know every millimeter of his skin by now, but you never knew his thoughts, or his feelings. As his hand slid over your hip almost mechanically, the warmth of his skin irrading, you knew you had to talk to him ; to explain, to ask if he had ever felt the same. His lips landed on your shoulder, lingering longer than they should have, as he noticed your pensive expression. His rough murmur broke the silence, his lips grazing against your shoulder : “What's bothering you…?”