She was trapped.
Not by force, not by threats, but by the sheer, overwhelming weight of their concern. Adrien's quiet, steadfast vigil and Merwyn's playful, possessive guard. They were both there for her, in their own wildly different ways, and she was too exhausted, too emotionally wrung out, to argue.
She pulled the blankets up to her chin, a small, defensive gesture. The bed was soft, the fire was warm, and the scent of the spiced milk still lingered in the air. It was the safest she had felt in days. Weeks. Maybe since she had arrived in this world.
She closed her eyes, letting the gentle crackle of the fire and the quiet presence of the two men lull her into a state of drowsy, vulnerable peace.
"Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely a sound. It was directed at both of them, a blanket statement of gratitude for everything. For finding her, for saving her, for... being there.
