4.6 | Dark Ages ✓

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A MAN WAKES to the scent of roses.

He inhales, deeply, then registers that he's not alone. Curled up next to him, with her head on his bare chest, is a girl whose name he doesn't know. He stiffens and she shifts slightly, her hand coming up to rest over his heart.

"Good morning."

He blinks and props himself up on one elbow. "Are you a dream?"

There's a beat of silence. Then, slowly, she lifts her head to look up at him. Barefaced, with sleep etched into her features, he thinks she's the most beautiful creature he's ever seen. He swallows, suddenly aware of the fact that he's wearing close to nothing.

"No," she says quietly, and he feels something in his chest twist at the warm affection in her eyes. "No, this isn't a dream. I'm quite real, and so are you."

He frowns. "But I—"

She reaches up to press a finger against his lips and he falls silent, suppressing a shiver at the contact. "Sleep now. You look like you've travelled a long way."

As if on cue, a wave of fatigue sweeps through him and he drops his head back down on the pillow. "Alright," he hums in agreement. Then he tenses, his arms tightening around her almost possessively. "You won't leave, right? You won't leave me?"

She shakes her head and smiles. It feels rather like catching a ray of sunlight, only instead of being blinded by it, he thinks he could look at it for a lifetime. "No, I won't," she says softly, reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes. "I'll be right here when you wake up."

He nods, satisfied, and closes his eyes.

And dreams.