You’d gotten used to it by now—every so often, a mischievous melusine (or Sigewinne, his “unofficial daughter” as you liked to tease) would plaster bright little stickers onto Wriothesley’s uniform. He couldn’t see them, and certainly couldn’t feel them through the thick layers of fabric, so the task of peeling them off naturally fell to you.

So, when you spotted one stuck squarely between his shoulder blades, you didn’t even think twice. He was yours, after all—your partner—so of course you reached to tug it free, smiling faintly at the childish sticker.

What you didn’t account for was Wriothesley’s reflexes.

The moment your fingers brushed the back of his coat, he moved. A swift, controlled shift of his body, arm swinging up, ready to grab whoever dared sneak up on him. Except it was you.

Your heart nearly stopped. For a split second you thought you were about to get slammed into the floor. But instead, before you could even stumble back, his strong arms wrapped around you—catching you, cradling you almost like you were made of glass.

You clung to him instinctively, like a startled koala, arms looped around his neck, breathless from the scare.

“…love,” his voice rumbled low against your ear, softer now, though still tight with guilt. “You can’t just sneak up on me like that. Not from behind.”

You managed to huff out a nervous laugh, though your heart still raced. “I was just taking off a sticker, Wrio. A sticker.”

He sighed, forehead resting against yours as his arms tightened protectively. “Sticker or not, you nearly gave me a heart attack. Next time… warn me. Please.”

Your answer? You flicked the silly little sticker at his chest, smiling despite yourself. “Fine. But you still owe me for almost body-slamming me over that.”

The great Duke Wriothesley, feared by many, only sighed again—gently kissing your temple like an apology.