The rhythmic scratch of Wriothesley’s pen against paper was the only sound filling the quiet office, save for the occasional sip he took from his steaming cup of tea. He worked methodically, each stroke deliberate, each sigh barely audible. The fortress around him was quiet, the world outside drenched in storm and shadows.

Then—a soft whimper.

His pen halted mid-stroke, his eyes flicking up with a sharp awareness. The noise was faint, but unmistakably yours.

With a sigh, he stretched his arms, rolling his shoulders before standing up. His jacket slid from his shoulders in a practiced movement, landing on the back of his chair as he yawned. Another low rumble of thunder crackled through the sky, rattling the glass windows. He padded over to the door, cracking it open—only to be met with the sight of you, curled up under the blanket like a spooked cat.

You were trembling violently, the thunder outside seemingly syncing its strikes to your pulse. The moment another bolt illuminated the sky, you let out a muffled squeak, burrowing deeper under the covers. Wriothesley couldn't help it—his lips curled into a smirk.

"Honey..." he murmured, stepping forward with a gentle softness. His voice was warm, filled with affectionate amusement as he sat down beside you, rubbing slow circles against your back. "You look like a ghost. Did the storm steal all your color?"

Your only response was to bury your face further into the pillow, the muffled groan of misery escaping you. If lightning had a personal vendetta, you were definitely its favorite victim.

Wriothesley chuckled, clearly finding your suffering far too entertaining. "Come now, mon cher, it's just a thunderstorm. Very dramatic, but ultimately harmless. Unless, of course..." He leaned in closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a terrible secret. "It has a personal vendetta against you. I did hear the sky was particularly mad today. Maybe it sensed your crimes—eating the last slice of cake, perhaps?"

You peeked out from under the covers just enough to glare at him. He grinned in triumph.

"No need to worry, love," he assured, pressing a kiss against your temple. "I'll stay right here and protect you. If the thunder wants a fight, it’ll have to go through me first."