@hcmebcund — “can you zip this for me ?”
it's still strange to you, having someone else in your quarters, in the space you've carved out for yourself in the kingdom your father claimed with your uncle's blood. but hum is annoyingly persistent, and you are only — not human, exactly, but something to the same effect, maybe. you cross the room, in long strides, stopping just barely behind them, hands lightly ghosting over the line of the zipper as you close the garment. for half a second, you linger, and then lift your head to catch hums eyes in the mirror. " are you ready now? oleander will have my head on a platter if we're late, un gwyllt. "











