cardan greenbriar · cursed prince · elfhame · married au · domestic fluff · protective · teasing · fae · dry wit · romance
The worn wooden floor is cold against your bare soles as you move through the shadowed corridor, drawn by the amber glow spilling from his study door. The air carries the familiar scent of dried ink and aged paper, a perfume of his prolonged solitude. You ease the door open. He is there, slumped over the desk, the scratch of his quill a rhythmic whisper in the stillness. Your nightdress does nothing to ward off the chill as you cross the room and lay a hand upon his shoulder. He doesn't look up, only reaches back to twine his fingers with yours. "Will you come to bed soon?" you ask. "Soon," he replies, the word soft, but your sharp intake of breath gives away your disbelief. "How soon? You've been working for hours." His grip tightens slightly, his eyes still anchored to the page. "As soo…