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Shoto awoke to peaceful quiet, warm mid-morning sunrays, and slow breaths. His head felt heavy and his body languid as he recalled the events of last night. His mind felt hazy, he couldn't exactly remember everything that happened, the distinct lingering cold from the maiden's visit clung to the edges of his memory.

Something stirred underneath him, warm and soft. It distracted him from the flashes of his nightmare, of his father and the army he was growing, the weapons Shoto knew he would soon be the target of. Was it a vision, or something his mind conjured up to scare him? Either way, it did its job, leaving him exhausted and in pain. He couldn't remember the last time his head hurt so badly, that searing pain right at the back of his skull that made him want to pass out to escape it, that thudding and pounding that was exacerbated with even the slightest of sound. 

It stirred again, a quiet rustle under the heavy pile of covers and blankets. He couldn't count how many, only feel the plush top layer as he brushed his hand over it. It was so soft, just feeling it made him want to give in to the languid hands of sleep, to melt into the morning rays and escape from the world a moment longer. He had yet to open his eyes, they were far too heavy, and the distant aches that echoed around his body made him reluctant to wake up properly and face the events of last night. So, with a deep sigh, he let himself sink into the bed, head perfectly cushioned by his warm pillow as he let his thoughts drift away. Only for a few minutes, of course...

He must have been dozing for a while, but he couldn't be sure whether it was for a minute or an hour. Either way, he awoke to the sound of soft humming, a little deep and scratchy but peaceful nonetheless. His eyes blinked open slowly, a yawn escaping his mouth. His pillow felt a little cooler and lighter, combating his headache, and with reluctance he stretched his limbs and sat up. 

He frowned immediately, a small scrunch of the brow as he surveyed the room that was most definitely not his. 

For one, it was bigger. The bed wide enough for three people, bigger than the double one Shoto had. The covers were thick and soft, clearly made of the finest material one could find here in the Tribe lands, and had a faint scent of burnt sugar to them. There was a wardrobe with a set of drawers, though the wood was much deeper and richer in colour than Shoto's own. There was a small table by the window with a teapot and a small pile of books, alongside a wide desk that had several shelves of books resting above it. There was also a bathroom attached to it, much like the one in Shoto's quarters in Endeavour though far less gilded, the edge of the bath peeking out from beyond the doorframe. 

Thick, deep red curtains brushed the floor, parted to let morning light flow in yet closed enough that only a warm glow permeated the room. A wide floor to ceiling arched window that opened onto a balcony gave sight to the Edalian forest, the fresh sheet of snow shimmering in the sunlight. The room was large, yet comforting and cozy. Unlike Shoto's quarters in Endeavour, which were more of a rest stop than a place he could truly relax in, it felt like this space was cultivated for peace and privacy. The deep red and brows and the smooth stone of the walls, alongside the large fire roaring in the hearth across from the bed, made him once again desire to go back to sleep. Yet, curiosity kept him awake, and he focused on the sound of humming that was coming from the balcony. 

From the partly-open curtains he could see someone standing there, silhouetted in the sunlight. A passing thought at the back of his head murmured who it was, the same person who had pulled him from that horrid nightmare and helped him sleep peacefully. It was somewhat disorientating, for his usual routine after such vivid dreams was to stay awake and distract himself until morning. Yet he felt rested and calm, no erratic pulsing in his chest and only the dullest of aches in his bones. It felt like a warm day in spring, peaceful and hopeful, not the frosty dredges of winter. 

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