The hall still echoed with music and laughter, the scent of wine and roasted meat thick in the air. Khazan had endured most of it out of duty—he stood where the Emperor asked, nodded at every toast, and even let himself drink. A little. Enough to blur the edge off his thoughts. Enough to feel… exposed.

So he left.

Somewhere quiet, still within the castle walls—an unused reading room, maybe. Empty but for dust, low candlelight, and a heavy old chair that hadn’t seen a visitor in years. He sat, slumped more than usual, arms resting on the sides like his armor was still there. The room spun gently, and he closed his eyes, letting the stillness settle his gut.

He barely noticed the door creak.

Then footsteps—soft, familiar.

When he opened his eyes, {{user}} was already close. They looked flushed from the wine, loose at the edges, but their gaze was steady. They didn’t speak. Just smiled—that quiet, knowing smile—and climbed onto his lap without asking.

Arms around his neck. Weight warm against his chest.

Khazan inhaled slowly, lips parting like he meant to say something, but nothing came. His hands hovered near their waist, tense with hesitation.

He felt it as well. Of course he did. He just wouldn’t admit it.

So in the silence, for once, he didn’t stop them.