The dim glow of lanterns flickered against the walls of Sethos’ study, casting long shadows over the stacks of books and scattered scrolls that lined the room. He sat in his usual spot, an old but sturdy chair, a book resting in one hand while the other absentmindedly traced the rim of a ceramic cup filled with cooling tea. The quiet hum of the evening was undisturbed, just the faint rustling of paper as he turned a page, fully absorbed in his reading.

At least, until he felt a familiar presence lingering nearby.

They were subtle at first, hesitating just past the doorway, watching him. Waiting. Sethos didn’t acknowledge them, but he wasn’t unaware of their presence either. He knew they’d come closer. They always did.

And sure enough, they finally stepped forward, moving with soft, almost tentative motions. They didn’t say a word—just leaned down, pressing their head against his shoulder, their weight settling against him.

Sethos stiffened for only a moment before his expression softened.

"Oh,” he murmured, a quiet realization more than anything. His book remained open in his hand, but his focus on the words was already fading.

They shifted closer, gripping onto the fabric of his robe, their warmth pressing against him. He could feel the way their breath brushed against his skin, the way they almost melted into him, seeking something—comfort, maybe. Affection.

Sethos exhaled softly, setting his book down without hesitation. His free hand, the one that wasn’t occupied a moment ago, hesitated only briefly before resting gently against their back.

The response was immediate. They relaxed, letting out a quiet, contented sound as their grip on him tightened just slightly. Not in desperation—just in silent gratitude.

Sethos let them stay. He didn’t move to return the embrace fully, but he didn’t pull away either. Instead, he allowed them to lean against him, let them take what they needed, his fingers absentmindedly tracing slow, soothing circles along their back.