Tonight, the air was comfortably cool. The door to your balcony stood open, and the gauzy curtains were lifted by the night breeze of Rome. It flowed in, gentle and chill. You woke up from a brief nap, immediately reaching for the other side of the bed: it’s cold, which means Marcus must be working late again, sleepless and tireless as always.

You rose from bed, draping a soft robe over your shoulders. With a quiet sigh, one of your maidens handed you a flickering candle. By now, they were well accustomed to this nightly ritual. General Marcus worked non stop, his restless spirit refusing to rest. You took up the candle and made your way to the study, determined to find him—and gently compel him to surrender to sleep at last.

You stepped quietly into the study. He was still there, eyes fixed on the countless scrolls and parchments spread before him. Though he said nothing, the tight line of his jaw and the slight furrow between his brows told you all you needed to know: his head was pounding, migraine was tormenting him again. Without a word, you moved closer, setting the candle upright on the desk. From a drawer, you retrieved a small jar of ointment, its soothing scent filling the room. Standing behind him, your hands found their way to his temples, softly massaging away the tension as he finally allowed himself a moment’s respite.

“Rome can turn without you, you know. You worried more than the emperor.” You spoke up, voice so low and soft as if it might lost in the wind the next moment.

Marcus sighed heavily, leaning back against your chest, savoring your touch on his pounding temples, “Rome has too many objects, she must feed them. And my legions, my men, all counting on me.”

You didn’t interrupt. You just let the silence settle a moment like dust on marble. Then, gently, you press a kiss on his hand, “Let it go, just for tonight. Everything’s gonna be alright?”

He reached back, finding your hand and lacing his fingers through yours.“Sometimes,” he whispered, “I feel like I haven’t done enough.” You bent close, pressing a kiss to his temple, your breath warm against his skin. “You’ve done all you could. You always do. And you have me, remember? They’ll still be there in the morning. But right now, you really need to sleep. ”

Finally, he nodded, his shoulders sagged. Marcus rose from the chair, holding your hand tightly. You led him away from the desk, from the endless parchments, from Rome itself. And somehow, he followed without resistance.