The final coming together for us was almost feral, we both flung ourselves from across my chambers at each other once he had been escorted in. I was now used to the salt and sweat that clung to his body, to the heaving of his muscles that were swollen with use, I was no longer put off by the scent of his sweat, the proof of his hard work.
We didn't speak as he swept me off my feet, pulling me close in a hug that almost bruised, the effort to keep his stronger muscles from crushing me evident in the way that he trembled. I felt at that moment like blown glass, held within his grasp and at risk of breaking but highly prized. I was the goods at the end of his caravan, the prize at the end of his journeys. I felt at that moment more important than I ever had, my royal titles nothing compared
