Aumerle’s first thought upon waking had been that Richard hadn’t slept. His side of the bed was empty and cold, the pillows still pristine. As it happened, he had slept- he just hadn’t come to bed.
He was slumped over his desk, head resting in the crook of his arm. Ink stained his slender fingers. The candle on his desk had completely burnt down and burnt itself out. Briefly, Aumerle considered rousing him.Â
Instead, he pulled Richard gently towards him, cradling his King gently to his chest, and sliding his other arm beneath his knees. Carefully, he lifted Richard up, wincing as he banged Richard’s foot against the underside of the desk. Richard huffed, and pressed his head closer to Aumerle’s chest, but didn’t wake. Edward breathed a sigh of relief, and laid Richard down on the bed. He unlaced Richard’s shoes, easing them off, and putting them down by the side of the bed. He pulled the covers back over him, tucking him in, pressed a kiss to his forehead, and left him to sleep.
