Rj371328.mp3

She beckoned you closer, guiding you to rest your head upon her lap. The rustle of her ornate silks and the rhythmic, steady sound of her breathing began to drown out the lingering echoes of conflict. With practiced, gentle movements, she began to tend to you.

Aria sat upon a plush, velvet chaise, her eyes tracking your movement with a mixture of authority and an uncharacteristic softness. She didn't ask for a report on the battlefield; instead, she noted the exhaustion etched into your shoulders. RJ371328.mp3

She used a small, traditional ear-pick, her touch so precise and delicate it felt as though she were physically brushing away your stresses. As she worked, she whispered words of praise and encouragement—secrets meant only for your ears. She spoke of the weight she carries as a leader and how, in this stolen moment of domesticity, you both could simply exist without titles. She beckoned you closer, guiding you to rest