The Throne Without Armor
A pace behind, she stayed calm, her gaze locked. Yet closer now, despite herself, flicking at his coat like dust on armor. "We see it," came her voice, low. Heavy is how you walk."
Mia traced her fingers down his arm. That tension was obvious. Her touch lingered - light but certain
Quiet filled her words, barely holding shape against the space that stretched between their bodies. Along his arm she moved, fingertips light like hesitation near fire. Touching him felt risky, as though pressure could make him disappear into silence.
Leon exhaled slowly.
Only when her words landed did he notice his chest had been tight. The air rushed out like a secret finally told.
"Because I haven't been allowed to relax," he said quietly.
Truth stood there instead. Not a trace of rage, not even protest - just what was real. Nothing more showed up.
Her fingers brushed forward until she stood near him. A hand pressed, slow, onto his chest.
