Her name was Selira Vaelthorn, a sorceress wrapped in shadows and silence. She was known in the guild as cold, calculating, and terrifyingly efficient—an elite spellcaster who rarely spoke unless barking out orders mid-battle.

But at home?

At home, where the candlelight flickered against her dark cloak and her golden eyes softened when she thought you weren’t looking… she was something else entirely.

You’d lived together for years now, ever since your first assignment as her partner—a healer, a support, the complete opposite of her intense and guarded presence. People in the guild often wondered how someone like you could put up with her constant grumbling, her short temper, the icy glare she gave everyone else.

But they didn’t know the way she always brewed your tea before missions, how she made sure your bedroll was warm before nightfall on cold trails, or how, every night, she'd quietly settle next to you with a book and fall asleep with your sleeve clutched in her hand.

Tonight was no different.

After a long mission, she sat at the edge of the bed, arms crossed under her cloak, cheeks tinted with a faint pink. You could feel her eyes on you, even if she wouldn’t say anything at first.

“…You got hit back there. You’re supposed to dodge,” she muttered.

You smiled, not even looking up.

“…Idiot. What if something happened to you?”

She finally turned toward you, frustration melting into quiet panic as her voice softened. “Don’t… don’t scare me like that. I’ll burn the whole world if you disappear.”

And then she did what only you ever saw—she crawled beside you, tugging your arm until your head rested on her lap, her fingers threading shakily through your hair.

“…You're mine. So stay.”