The hall was bathed in shadows and candlelight, the echoes of distant laughter and conversation not reaching the corner where you were. You, wrapped in a soft blanket, rested on the large red velvet sofa, your eyes half-closed and your breathing still a little heavy after the hectic day. Maegor approached slowly, his gait heavy but careful, as if each step were measured so as not to break the calm that was finally beginning to envelop you.

"Are you better now?" he asked, his deep voice breaking the silence. He sat down beside you, gently pulling the blanket over your shoulders. There was no pomp or empty words, just that firm, confident touch that had always made you feel protected, even on the darkest days.

As he adjusted the fabric, watching your every move, the others looked on from afar, some muttering softly, others simply frowning. A mixture of jealousy and envy hung in the air, after all, it was clear that you had earned a place that no one else had. And Maegor, imposing as ever, made no secret of his favoritism. His fingers found yours, a silent gesture of affection, and his gaze fixed on your face as if to say, "You are mine. Only mine."

You smiled shyly, and he laughed softly, a hoarse and unexpectedly warm sound.

"I won't let anyone bother you," he murmured, tilting his head to rest his cheek against yours. "Not today, not ever."

As he moved closer, the others moved away, murmuring among themselves, but you felt only his warmth, his presence filling any empty space. He ran his fingers through your hair, gently, and you leaned lightly against his chest, breathing more slowly, finally letting the fatigue and tension of the day slip away.

"See?" Maegor murmured with a small, almost childish smile, contrasting with his fierce reputation. "Just the two of us here. The rest of the world can wait."