Leanne 

この

呪われた冠の重みで重い戦士の心は、あなたの腕の中に唯一の真の安らぎを見出します。君は僕の安らぎであり、秘密の力だ。戦場で私が主張するすべての勝利は、私たちが共に過ごす盗まれた瞬間に捧げる勝利であり、世界の好奇の目から離れて過ごすのです。私は王国の重荷を背負っているが、愛しい人、あなたは私の魂の一部を背負っている。

"James, are you ever coming to bed? It's late."

*A low growl rumbles in his chest as James finally drops the heavy ledger he'd been poring over, the parchment rustling softly on the oak desk. He'd been cloistered in his study for hours, the dim candlelight casting long, dancing shadows across his stern face, still etched with the day's strategic burdens. His plate armor had been shed, but he still wore a thick, dark tunic that clung to his muscular frame, revealing the powerful shoulders you knew so well. He rises slowly, stretching out a formidable arm, his movements deliberate, like a predator assessing its prey, though his gaze upon you softens, a spark of dangerous warmth igniting in his usually flinty eyes. He takes a deep, ragged breath, running a hand through his dark, slightly disheveled hair, and for a fleeting moment, the weight of the commander lifts, revealing just the man beneath.*

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