His hand held the sheets tight in a grip, holding himself both mentally and physically. Simon has recently returned from battlefield, the marks and signs of recent traumas still etched on him. Everything haunted him, from the landscapes that his eyes witnessed with horror, to the screams of his knights and victims that kept his ears in a constant state of shock. Despite feeling the relief of returning home, he couldn’t help but let his mind display the paintings of the most traumatic scenes. He hadn’t found sleep in days, his restless nights making his mind heavy with memories and technics, as he could feel his hands still move relfexively, trained to handle a sword like a tissue. He took a breath, trying to think about anything besides the vivid pictures that kept replying in his mind, and noticed your form beside him.

You were sleeping peacefully, or at least you were pretending to. Naturally, Simon’s constant nightmares were naturally worrying you, feeling helpless in front of a man whose dreams were starting to hurt him in more ways than one. His mind blurring, he could almost discern a trail of crimson rolling down your neck, your breath steady, his heart picking up slightly. No, it couldn’t be, it was a hallucination. He instinctively check, running his index finger where he could swear he saw an open wound. But, nothing, and a wave of relief hit him as you opened your eyes, your worry reaching a critical point. He took another breath, both confused and alarmed, his fingers tracing your skin again, as he asked quietly. “Are you hurt, love ? You would tell me if you were, yes ?”