⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

𝑯𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒐𝒏

⤷ 𝑪𝒓𝒆𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒌

- 𝘈𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘢𝘺 (Warnings: none. Synopsis: sweet moment before sleep.)

- 𝘊𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘕𝘚𝘍𝘞 𝘢𝘭𝘱𝘩𝘢𝘣𝘦𝘵 (Warnings: a lot, I don't like writing them down because I already know I'll forget some.)

- 𝘋𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘤𝘳𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 (Warnings: angst. Synopsis: Cregan comforts you after some boys tease you.)

- 𝘞𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘦 (Warnings: none. Synopsis: it's the first night of marriage.)

𝑮𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝑻𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔

⤷ 𝑱𝒐𝒏 𝑺𝒏𝒐𝒘

- 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 (Warnings: none. Synopsis: hot bath together.)

⤷ 𝑵𝒆𝒅 𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒌

- 𝘙𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘯, 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 (Warnings: a little bit angst. Synopsis: you are King Robert's daughter and you have feelings for Ned Stark.)

- 𝘙𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘯, 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 - 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐𝘐 (Warnings: smut. Synopsis: you can't sleep and you find yourself in front of his bedroom door.)

- 𝘙𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘯, 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 - 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐𝘐𝘐 (Warnings: heavy smut. Synopsis: mutual love always wins in the end, and leads you to challenge fate.)

⤷ 𝑺𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒐𝒓 𝑪𝒍𝒆𝒈𝒂𝒏𝒆

- 𝘊𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘦 (Warnings: fight, jealousy. Synopsis: Sandor can't stand it when other men are around you.)

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑯𝒐𝒃𝒃𝒊𝒕

⤷ 𝑻𝒉𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒖𝒊𝒍

- 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 (Warnings: manipulative behaviour, angst. Synopsis: you're tired of your relationship being hidden and so he's trying to make you change your mind.)

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑾𝒂𝒍𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒅

⤷ 𝑫𝒂𝒓𝒚𝒍 𝑫𝒊𝒙𝒐𝒏

- 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘢 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 (Warnings: daddy issues, angst. Synopsis: every time there's something to do you don't help, and that bothers him.)

𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒓𝒔

⤷ 𝑫𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒅 𝑳𝒐𝒌𝒊

- 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘳 (Warnings: none. Synopsis: he invites you out to dinner with him.)

- 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘳 - 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐𝘐 (Warnings: smut. Synopsis: through the streets of the suburbs before going to your house.)

- 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘳 - 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐𝘐𝘐 (Warnings: heavy smut. Synopsis: a very romantic night with him.)

𝑫𝒊𝒂𝒓𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒂 𝑾𝒊𝒎𝒑𝒚 𝑲𝒊𝒅

⤷ 𝑹𝒐𝒅𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝑯𝒆𝒇𝒇𝒍𝒆𝒚

- 𝘍𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘴 (Warnings: none. Synopsis: You want to sleep but Rodrick keeps keeping you awake.)

𝑨𝒗𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒓

⤷ 𝑱𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝑺𝒖𝒍𝒍𝒚

- 𝘑𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘚𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘕𝘚𝘍𝘞 𝘢𝘭𝘱𝘩𝘢𝘣𝘦𝘵 (Warnings: a lot, I don't like writing them down because I already know I'll forget some.)

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑮𝒐𝒅𝒇𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓

⤷ 𝑴𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒆𝒍 𝑪𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒆

- 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 (Warnings: argument, slap, separation, angst. Synopsis: you want to know more about his family, but the conversation only drove you apart.)

𝑷𝒆𝒂𝒌𝒚 𝑩𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔

⤷ 𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒔 𝑺𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒃𝒚

- 𝘈𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 (Warnings: a little bit smut. Synopsis: he's working late and you try to get him to come to bed.)

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✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The house is immersed in a dense silence, broken only by the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway. Sleep weighs on your eyes as you cross the foyer that leads to his study. You wear a simple cream-colored nightgown, with small flowers embroidered on your breasts.

A light draft of cold air makes you shiver as you walk barefoot across the dark wood floor. You glimpse a dim light passing under the study door and you shake your head, thinking about the late hour. You pause in front of it before knocking once, softly "Who is it?"

His voice comes out with a slight tired tone, marked by sleepless nights "It's me, can I come in?" a few seconds pass before he answers "Yes, come in." you open the door slowly, and close it behind you a moment later.

The room is decidedly warmer than the rest of the house, and you let out a sigh of relief as you step onto the first rug you see. Tommy sits at his desk with a burned-out cigarette between his fingers and his gaze fixed on a pile of ink-stained documents.

The ashtray beside him is practically full, and you can't think of anything other than the fact that he's been smoking a lot these past few months. His vest is open, the top two buttons of his shirt undone, his tie loosened and his sleeves rolled up... his glasses perched on the tip of his nose, and his hair slightly messy.

The glass of whiskey is half-empty to his right "It's late" you say. Your voice seems too soft for the room. He makes a sign with his pen, then another. Only then does he look up at you. He looks at you as if you're interrupting something necessary - but not more important.

"Just a moment" you approach slowly, without touching anything. You simply stand there, in front of the desk, close enough for him to feel your presence "You said that an hour ago." Tommy exhales slowly, following it with his gaze as if searching for an answer in its swirls... then he puts down his pen.

"This stuff doesn't sign itself" "You don't rest alone either." silence, and it's in that silence that you really see him: the dark circles under his eyes, the clenched jaw, the way he keeps everything under control only because he knows no other way. The war has never gone away, it's just changed form.

"Come to bed" you say finally. It's not an order, not even a desperate request, but a statement of fact. Tommy leans back in the chair and studies you "That nightgown looks good on you." he says as he takes a last drag before putting out his cigarette.

You look down instinctively, barely adjusting the bottom hem "In five minutes" he whispers, but you shake your head "No, now" his lips lift suddenly, and he laughs softly "You're really stubborn, Mrs. Shelby." His voice gives you goosebumps, it's so provocative when he calls you that way... and he knows exactly how it affects you.

"Come here" he motions for you to come closer with his hand "Come on." you move slowly, walking around the desk. He moves back slightly with his chair and places his hands on your hips, lifting you slightly so you can sit on his lap. Damn, you love it when he treats you like this.

You can feel the muscles of his thighs holding you firmly in place, the heat of his chest, and his gaze on your breasts. You wrap your hands around his neck "I thought you were supposed to finish signing, right?" you smile, stroking the back of his neck with your fingertips.

Suddenly your anger disappears, as always "I guess so, but I think there's something more important than signing papers now..." he looks up to fix you with those ice-blue eyes of his, and you can see a spark of arousal. His hands move slowly over your body, the heat seeping through your nightgown as it rises to your breasts.

When his thumbs rest on your nipples, you gasp. Even through the fabric, the sensation has the same effect. You bite your lower lip, holding back any more sounds "I-I think it's best if we continue in the bedroom, don't you?" you whisper, blushing slightly. He leans closer to your ear "And why not here?"

He bites your earlobe, and his hands now rest on your ass, pushing it against him. You can feel his erection against your groin, and you rest your forehead on his shoulder. His lips move towards your neck, leaving small, wet kisses and nibbling the soft skin.

You let yourself go for those few seconds of relief before pulling away. You're panting, your throat dry "Come on, let's go to bed." you laugh and stand up, taking his hand and pulling him with you towards the door. These are the little moments of satisfaction you prefer, when he's giving you attention.

He comes closer to you and wraps his arms around you, kissing your head "I love you." and in that moment you realize he's probably ignoring you to protect you, to keep you away from that ugly world he works in.

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𝑩𝒍𝒐𝒈 𝒏𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒈𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹

The smell of cigarettes fills the office before you know it, a light mist seeping through the curtains of the windows overlooking the lake. The afternoon light falls on a pile of documents on your husband's desk, Michael.

Thinking about it, you're no longer sure if he's really your husband... the old him vanished a long time ago. You take a few steps forward, keeping your gaze down and folding your hands in your lap.

The only sound is the ticking of the grandfather clock; you turn your gaze to watch it slowly swing from left to right. He sits behind the desk, leaning forward slightly to sign a paper. His eyebrows are slightly furrowed, a sign of intense concentration.

He hasn't even noticed your presence, or perhaps he's simply ignoring you. You, in there, almost seem like an intrusion... it's a world built for him, not for you. The light from the lamp reflects off the polished wood, cutting the contours of his face in two.

You stop in front of the desk, your hands even tighter "Michael..." your voice comes out low, like a whisper... you hate yourself for how fragile it sounds "I need to talk to you" he doesn't look up immediately, he leaves you there, feeling the weight of your own voice as if he wanted to teach you the right measure of words, then finally he says softly "I'm listening."

You take a step closer... you don't know why your heart is beating so hard - perhaps because you still love him, perhaps because you hope the man you once knew will return "I need to know. Everyone's talking, saying things... about you, about your family. I... I can't go on living like this."

He doesn't answer right away, simply looking up from the paper and placing the pen next to it. He shifts back in his chair so he can cross his left leg over his right. He folds his hands in his lap, just like you are doing right now "Do you know what your problem is, darling?"

His voice is low, almost affectionate... almost "It's just that you think the truth is your right, but that's not the case. The truth is a burden, and I keep you away from that burden because I love you. You have the right to live a quiet life, not to get your hands dirty... that's your right."

At that point, he slowly raises his eyes to you, that gesture - just that - is enough to make you take a half-step back. You feel trapped even though there's no chain holding you back. Your now sweaty hands stretch to the sides of your dress, tightening it slightly.

Michael exhales slowly as he rises from his chair, walking around the desk to come toward you. His hands end up in the pockets of his black pants "I'm not lying to you, I'm protecting you" you bite your lower lip before murmuring "I just want the truth, Michael." the sound of the clock sounds like a gunshot in the silence.

He pauses, inhales again, and looks up at you once more. Those eyes, so dark, so calm... no tremor, no flash of emotion "The truth," he repeats "You want the truth." he takes a hand out of his pants and runs it over his face, as if to erase the anger building inside him.

His voice lowers to a tone that hides something more dangerous "The truth would destroy you, you really don't want it" you stop, but you've gone too far to turn back "you can't decide what I can handle!" your words come out louder than you intended, and you immediately regret it.

"Every time you ask me about my business," he says "you ask me to show you the part of me I try to keep away from you" driven by anger, you take a step forward, pointing your finger at him "I don't-!" the slap came from the side, suddenly... a sharp blow.

The noise cracked in the air like a whiplash, and you remain still... your cheek burning. It wasn't so much the pain that struck, but the humiliation. Tears blur your vision as you touch your cheek, in disbelief: you didn't think it could hurt this much, and not just physically.

"See what you're forcing me to do?!" he yells at you as he rubs his hands together to ease the pain of the blow "Every time you insist, every time you don't listen to me... you push me further." the words slip through you like poison.

Suddenly, the feeling of fear and humiliation seems to have disappeared... now you understand, the Michael you fell in love with is gone forever. Old memories come to mind, the beautiful summer days when he took you to the beach, by the sea.

"Good..." you whisper, wiping away the solitary tear that has fallen down your cheek "Do as you wish, Michael, but from now on, you and I are done" your voice sounds like a snake's hiss, bitter "I've waited so long for you to change, but apparently it hasn't happened. Stay with your stupid family; let them curse me for what I just said, I don't care."

You take a few steps back, toward the door "Find another woman, there will be plenty of them who want you." a half-smile of hatred escapes you "You ruined me, and I, who deluded myself into thinking we could have had a better future together. One day I'll leave when you least expect it, and that moment will come soon enough... and woe betide you if you come looking for me; I never want to see you again."

You've finally managed to say everything you've never been able to admit, not even to yourself; you feel at peace, so to speak. His face is expressionless, but you know he's still confused. There's a hint of concern in his eyes, as if your words came from someone else's mouth, not yours.

You've always been so kind and polite that he would never have considered retaliating. He doesn't say anything, probably knowing it's the best thing to do to avoid further escalating the situation. You turn away from him as your feet move quickly across the office parquet, ready to escape the hell that has confined and manipulated you for far too long.

© Xoshize 2026

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°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The banquet was over, but the echoes of laughter and music still lingered in the halls and corridors of Winterfell. Outside, the snow was falling slowly, thickly, as if the gods wanted to cover the world with a bit of silence for that night. You walk down the corridor, your tunic barely scraping the ancient stones.

A torch every few steps, the flame flickering and casting hazy shadows on the walls. Standing before the door to your room - yours now - your heart begins to beat faster. It's your wedding night, and you don't know how to feel... there's certainly a sense of calm that, after learning the name of your future husband, you expected.

Months had passed since that moment, but you still felt like you weren't good enough for him. You open the door and a warmth overwhelms you... the fire is already lit. The flames crackle in the fireplace, gilding the gray stones and coloring the reflections on the floor copper.

You enter the room very calmly, trying not to ruin the moment as you close the door behind you. Cregan is there, standing by the fire, his dark robe emphasizing his broad shoulders... he looks like a god descended to earth. He turns and looks at you... but doesn't speak immediately.

There's a pause, in which you both study each other with the curiosity and caution of those who don't want to miss the first step "I thought it was right to light the fire before you arrived," he finally says in a low voice "You did well," you reply "Thank you." you adjust your robe, crossing your arms over your chest.

A hint of a smile softens Cregan's gaze. He approaches slowly, respectfully. His movement is measured, controlled, yet you sense that behind that composure lies a living strength "It's strange," he murmurs "To feel so calm on a day like this" "Maybe that's a good sign," you say, blushing slightly.

He nods, then offers you his hand. You take it gently - the skin is warm, the grip firm but gentle. No unnecessary words, no rush... just two hands seeking and finding each other "You're perfect, really..." he says seriously, giving you a light squeeze "I didn't expect such a beautiful woman." you smile blushing, looking away.

You didn't think you were so beautiful until this moment either... you were always afraid of others' judgment, and you withdrew into your shyness "Thank you, you're... very kind." you reply, barely looking at him. You remain like that, close together, the crackling of the fire your only music.

The shadows move across your faces, and in that golden light, Cregan appears different from how you imagined him: less lord, more man. A man who, beneath the armor of duty, hides a reassuring calm and an unexpected sweetness. He touches your face with his fingers, barely.

His touch is tentative but respectful... as if he fears you might vanish at any moment "Such a delicate skin" your chest tightens, and your heart skips a beat "I don't want this night to be a burden," he says softly "Not for you, not for me. Let it begin as it should: with respect." you nod, and nothing else is needed.

He leads you to the bed and sits you next to him, the fire a few feet away. The two of you talk for a long time, each sentence melting a little of the ice you both carried inside "My father always planned to marry me off to a great Lord... he says I have a magnificent beauty, and that it shouldn't be wasted in a place like where I come from."

You grew up in a small village lost in the northern hills, never truly knowing your surroundings until you began studying with a Septa who came from far away... she taught you a lot, and you will always be grateful. He smiles lovingly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear "Well, your father's absolutely right... I can't blame him on that."

When tiredness sets in, it's natural to lean in. Shyness quickly fades when you're with the right person. Cregan puts an arm on your shoulder and you lean against him, and for the first time you feel like the cold outside can no longer reach you. It's been a long day, and sleep would be the best gift.

"Get up, I'll tuck you under the covers." and with that, he takes your hand, lifting you from the bed to remove the blanket. You bow slightly, thanking him as you get under the covers. He tucks them under your chin, kissing your forehead.

"Since it's our first night of marriage, we should have to consummate it right away, but I don't want to rush things... you have to be sure of that too, so I'll wait. Goodnight, my Lady..." he murmurs close to your ear "Or should I say my wife?" he asks in an amused tone.

You close your eyes, laughing, and his face now moves towards your cheek, brushing it with his lips before kissing it. You smile shyly, looking at him with doe-like eyes. You feel small with him, but so good. You couldn't imagine a better husband than him, knowing what bad people are out there in Westeros.

He too, you can understand, is very happy to have you. You found each other, and you loved each other from the start, something that can never separate you... from now, until the end of your days.

© Xoshize 2026

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‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊✮‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

The scent of grilled meat and aromatic spices fills the air of the inn. It's evening, and after days of travel the warmth of the fire in the fireplace feels almost like a luxury. Sandor sits across from you, a bowl of stew in his hands, the scar on his face illuminated by the flickering flames of the candle on the table.

He eats in silence, as always, his gaze downward and his broad shoulders as if he's trying to shield that small space from the rest of the world. You speak little as you dine, but the weariness of the journey melts away as time passes, and when a group of travelers enter, laughing and making a racket, you feel that old longing for company reborn within you.

Among them is a mercenary, young and with an easy smile "I'm going to make some friends," you say, grinning broadly at Sandor before rising from the bench and approaching the counter to chat with the boy. He offers you a drink: after all it's not the first time you've stopped at an inn, and a little lightheartedness can't hurt.

Sandor looks up only once... the look he gives you is fleeting, but there's something rough, restrained inside. He continues eating, his jaw clenched and his fingers gripping the metal bowl "S-so you're the one travelling with the Hound, huh?" the mercenary says, amused.

At the sound of his wavering voice, you look away from Sandor "What, excuse me?" you ask confusedly "I-I was saying, so you're the one travelling with the Hound... i-it must be quite a challenge keeping up with him!" you smile slightly at the sight of him already so drunk, and Sandor feels that smile like a pang in his chest.

He would never say it, but since travelling with you, something has cracked inside him "It's not as bad as it seems" "Oh, I bet not... b-but a woman like you should be with someone more... handsome." the mercenary winks at you as he reaches out a hand lightly towards your thigh.

He's drunk and clearly thinks he can have his way with you, then you hear the sound of a bench being pushed from the corner of the room, and before you know it, Sandor is already there beside you. Sandor's fist lands sharply, a thud that silences the room in an instant. The mercenary staggers backward, bumps into a stool and spills a jug of beer on the floor.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Sandor growls, his voice hoarse, deep, like that of an angry mastiff. The young man holds his bleeding nose, his eyes wide "I-I didn't mean to-" "Didn't mean to what, huh? to bother this woman?" Sandor points and looks at you before turning back to the boy.

He approaches him, his steps slow but heavy, and the boy steps back until he bumps into the counter "I-I was joking!" the mercenary stammers, his tongue thick with alcohol. Sandor grabs the collar of his tunic and lifts it with one hand, as if he weighs nothing "Does it look like I'm laughing?" the inn is silent, only the crackling of the fire filling the silence.

You rush closer, your heart pounding "Sandor, stop!" you say, trying to grab his arm, but he pulls away and doesn't even look at you: his eyes fixed on the boy, two dark pools burning with anger "Apologize to her, right now."

The mercenary gasps, his legs shaking "S-sorry..." he stammers, spitting out a bit of blood and looking in your direction with one eye now black. Sandor lets go of him, and he collapses to the ground, gasping "Next time you try something with her," Sandor spits, "I'll make you swallow every last tooth you have left."

He looks around the room, implying this as a warning to everyone. He takes a step back, his chest rising and falling as if he's holding back a beast inside. Then he turns to you, his gaze brief but filled with something more than just anger "Let's go" you cast an almost pitying glance at the boy, before turning to Sandor "Where?" "Outside."

his voice leaves no room for discussion. You step away from the counter and feel the eyes of everyone on you as you follow him toward the exit. The air outside is cold, the moon splitting the night in two; you cross your arms over your chest to retain some warmth.

You remain silent for a few seconds, then he speaks, his raspy voice scratching the air "Do you like making small talk with every idiot you see?" you bite your lip, annoyed by his tone "There's nothing wrong with talking to someone, Sandor... what's wrong with you?" you ask.

He lets out a low sound, almost a growl "I didn't like that guy" "Oh, no? And why?" "Because he looked at you like you were a whore" you smile bitterly "And you think you're so much different?" he stares at you, and something dark shines in his eyes "I'm not like them."

"Really?" you tease him softly "Because sometimes it seems the other way around" he takes a step closer, the height difference forces you to look up. His breathing is hot, heavy "You don't scare me, woman," he murmurs "Then why are you so angry?"

He inhales slowly, as if searching for words "Because I don’t like seeing other people hit on you... because every time I see you smile at someone else, I want to punch their face... and I don’t know why I fucking care."

Your heart skips a beat. The anger in his words isn’t violent - it’s hurt, almost confused. You take a step closer, feeling the soft ground beneath your boots "Maybe because you really care," you whisper "Don’t be stupid," he growls, but his voice trembles slightly.

"Sandor" you say his name like a prayer "You can pretend all you want, but you’re not just The Hound anymore… I know who you really are." his face hardens. For a moment, you think he’ll turn and walk away, but instead he closes his eyes, and the voice that comes out is lower, more human.

"You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t know what I am. I’ve done things that would make your stomach churn" you lean closer "And yet I'm still here." he opens his eyes, and that fire inside is almost frightening.

"Go back inside, go to sleep. I'll be with you shortly." and with that he cuts the conversation short, probably it's something much deeper than you imagined. You look at him for one last moment before turning and going back into the inn.

© Xoshize 2026

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