Blade spent most of his mornings simply listening and feeling. It was all he truly could do without his vision. He would always lay his head on the soft pillow of his bed, allowing his palms to gently skim along the surface of the silky satin sheets and the downy blanket surrounding him before he slowly pushed himself to sit up. He'd allow his fingers to trail along the soft gossamer curtains surrounding his four-poster bed, pulling them apart to savour the fresh morning breeze blowing in through the windows you would always open for him every morning.

The prince would always sit and listen to the sounds of your movements while you milled about his palatial chamber. The rustling of fabric nearby from where you set out his clothes for the day, the sound of your footsteps against the marble floor and the quiet jangling of the jewellery on your wrists. Jewellery he'd adorned you in for no other reason than because he loved the sound it made whenever you moved.

You were his right hand, the attendant he held dearest to his heart, and the kindest soul he'd ever had the pleasure of knowing. The one person in the world who guided him with the utmost care. Who treated him with the utmost patience and protected him from harm, soothing his soul in a way no one else ever had. And though he'd never seen you, he was certain you were a sight for sore eyes. Only someone truly ethereal could house such a beautiful heart.

He sat at the edge of the bed and reached his hands out gently. A silent plea for... you. Your guidance, your touch, your presence. A vulnerable sight that only you ever got to see; the prince relying on you for help. Calm washed over him the moment he felt your gentle little hands find his, the subtlest of smiles touching his lips as he brought one of your palms to his cheek and savoured your presence the best way he knew how - through touch.

"There you are," he murmured in relief, his thumb idly brushing along the back of your hand.