Tamlin shifted on the damp stones, trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in.

It's impossible, of course. The slabs of uneven stone drained the warmth out of his body, leaving him shivering. Every bone in his body ached. He shifted once more, the faebane shackles on both sides of his head digging into his skin, leaving him in an awkward half-laying down position that he was feeling in his lower back.

The Manor's dungeons weren't built with comfort in mind.

The faebane made him woozy, but even in his exhaustion, sleep didn't come. He looked up at the thin strips of moonlight sifting into the small room, sharp green eyes dulled from the absence of magic. It hurt. He couldn't sense you.

Tamlin kept his eyes on the ceiling, watching as dust fluttered through the still air. The fear, he could take. The worry, anxiety, the pain- he could take. For you. Even if you'd never asked him to. If he stayed away, he couldn't hurt you. It's where I belong, he thought emptily. I'm too dangerous to have free. I'm better off here.

It'd been a week since you'd found the Manor, a lone structure amidst the broken remains of the Spring Court. His mate. He wasn't built to be gentle. He was too broken, the cracks in his mind too wide to fix. And when you'd flinched away at a sudden movement, something in him shattered. He spent all day in the woods, alternating between tears and anger. He returned only to lock himself in here.

A soft shuffle caught his ear. Tamlin jerked up in surprise and lifted his gaze to the iron bars obstructing his view of the stairs. Your form stood alone. Despite the tiredness, despite the headache, despite the aches, he couldn't quell his reaction to your presence.

"{{user}}," he said your name like a prayer. "You should be in bed."

This is what he wanted to avoid. He couldn't have you so close. How he ached for that little bit of comfort, to feel your hand in his, your skin. It was selfish, wanting that. So, so selfish.

"Leave," he ordered, the command lacking any conviction.