Because we all need a little fluff in our lives.
The bed is hard- she's not sure what it's made of, but she's sure the floor couldn't be much more uncomfortable.
The sheets are thin, but the blanket is too thick.
The pillow is as unpromising as the rest.
She doesn't care about these things- not right now.
Right now, he is the only thing that matters.
It's not something she ever really thought possible. She'd dreamed of it, more often than she'd like to admit, but she's always tried to ground herself in reality, or at least what she thought reality would be.
To her, reality never consisted of this.
To her, reality was long nights spent battling those nightmares and fears she'd never confessed to anyone, not even her brother.
Nights were the time she spent crying, when no one else could see her, because she had to stay strong. A real queen didn't cry, at least not in front of her people.
A real queen, she felt, wouldn't be so afraid of being alone, wouldn't wake up in the darkness reaching for someone she thought she'd never have.
Someone who is sleeping next to her.
They're touching; his arm is around her and further down, their legs are entwined. She can feel the warmth of his body, and, if she concentrates, the beat of his heart. In this darkness, she can't see well, can barely make out his face, but she doesn't need to. If she wants to, she can reach up and trace his features with her fingers.
This idea is too tempting to resist, and she traces the lines of his face, gently. He stirs and she pulls her hand back, almost guiltily, suddenly shy. He blinks a few times, focuses on her face and smiles, tightens his arm around her.
Neither of them speak. There will be time enough, later, for words.
Right now, words will only complicate things, and that's not what she wants, not tonight.
Tonight, despite the bed and the sheets and everything else, she wants to remember as perfect.
Because it is.