As Sineka slowly blinked her eyes open, the weight of exhaustion pressed down on her like a leaden blanket. Her head throbbed dully, a lingering reminder of the tears shed and the nightmares endured throughout the long night. The faint crackle of the fireplace mingled with the distant hum of the city beyond the window, grounding her in the present as she drew a slow, unsteady breath.
With a weary sigh, she shifted slightly, her limbs heavy and unresponsive as she struggled to sit up. Her fingers clutched the edge of the blanket draped over her lap, the silk soft against her skin—a stark contrast to the rough streets she had wandered only days ago. For a moment, she simply sat there, gathering the strength to face the morning.
As her gaze swept across the room, it fell upon Crocodile, who slept soundly in the loveseat positioned within her direct view. The sight of him—still and unguarded in slumber—sent a warmth spreading through her chest, bittersweet yet comforting. His sharp features, usually marked by a stoic intensity, seemed softer in the glow of the morning sun filtering faintly through the heavy curtains. His broad chest rose and fell with steady breaths, the only sound interrupting the hush of the room.
He was still fully dressed save for his overcoat, which hung neatly on a coat hanger nearby. The faint rumple of his waistcoat and loosened cravat hinted that he had foregone the comfort of his bed, choosing instead to remain close. Perhaps out of concern, perhaps simply because she was there. Sineka wasn't sure which reason tugged more fiercely at her heart.
A soft smile ghosted her lips as she watched him, a fleeting moment of solace after so many days of fear and hardship. Despite the trials they had endured—despite the unspoken tension woven between their fates—Crocodile had remained. Always near, always watching, as if tethered to her by some invisible thread neither of them dared acknowledge.
Silently, Sineka eased her legs over the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb him. Her muscles protested the movement, aching from days of relentless strain, but she pushed through the discomfort. Rising slowly to her feet, she glanced toward the clock resting atop the nearby mantel. The brass hands pointed to eight, marking the start of a new day.
With cautious steps, she approached the tall windows, her bare feet soundless against the plush carpet. Drawing back the heavy drapes, she allowed a sliver of sunlight to slip through the gap. The warmth of it kissed her skin, gentle and golden—a sensation she had once cherished beneath Frostheaven's pale skies. Even now, despite the harsh sun of Serapha that had beaten down on her during those long days of wandering, she found comfort in its touch.
The golden rays streamed into the room, illuminating the rich mahogany furniture and gilded accents, painting soft patterns of light across the floor and walls. Yet, as Sineka stood there, a pang of longing settled deep within her chest. The sun had always reminded her of her mother—of warm afternoons spent beneath Frostheaven's pale sky, of whispered promises that freedom could be found beyond the horizon.
"Open the curtains if you want."
The deep timbre of Crocodile's voice startled her from her reverie. Her heart jumped, and she spun around to find him standing just behind her, his smirk betraying a hint of amusement at her surprise. She hadn't heard him stir, nor had she noticed his silent approach—another reminder of the power that flowed beneath his skin, the Suna-Suna no Mi allowing him to move with uncanny grace.
"Gods, you scared me," she murmured, her hand fluttering to her chest as she exhaled a breathless laugh.
His gaze held hers, dark and steady, yet softened by the remnants of sleep still clinging to his eyes.
"I suppose I should've made more noise," he remarked with a faint chuckle, though the warmth in his gaze suggested he found her reaction more endearing than he let on.
Shaking her head, Sineka turned back toward the window, grasping the edges of the heavy drapes and pulling them open fully. Sunlight flooded the room, golden and unfiltered, banishing the lingering shadows. She squinted briefly, her eyes adjusting to the brightness as she inhaled the faint scent of morning air drifting through the glass panes.
"How do you feel now?" Crocodile's voice was softer this time, edged with genuine concern as he stepped closer.
Before she could answer, his hand lifted toward her face. His thumb brushed gently beneath her eye, a featherlight touch against the swollen skin still tender from days of strain and tears. The contact sent a jolt through her chest—not from pain, but from something deeper. Something unspoken.
Her breath caught slightly as she met his gaze. "My body's finally feeling the brunt of it," she admitted, her voice low. "But after sleeping... I feel better. I'll be back to myself in no time."
Crocodile's eyes searched hers, skeptical despite her reassurances. Though he said nothing, the slight furrow of his brow spoke volumes. She offered a faint smile in return, as if to convince them both that her words were true. But as the ache in her muscles intensified from standing too long, she relented and turned back toward the bed. Each step felt heavier than the last, her legs trembling with the effort as she lowered herself onto the mattress with a weary sigh.
Crocodile followed, pausing beside the bed before lowering himself onto the edge with a slow, deliberate motion. His presence lingered close, solid and steady, as if anchoring her to the present moment.
"Don't you need to go to work?" she asked after a pause, her voice soft with both curiosity and concern.
He hummed in acknowledgment, the sound low and thoughtful. "The world will survive without me for a day," he replied, though the faint curve of his lips hinted at his usual sardonic humor.
Sineka tilted her head slightly, amusement flickering in her eyes. "I don't think so," she countered lightly. "If it could, we'd still be in Frostheaven."
Crocodile chuckled—a rare, genuine sound that seemed to momentarily lift the invisible weight from his shoulders. Relief softened the sharp lines of his face, though neither of them acknowledged the silent understanding woven between their words.
Sobering slightly, Sineka studied him for a moment before speaking again. "You should go," she urged gently. "You'll drive yourself mad if you stay here all day. Go handle your empire... I think I can manage a few hours without you."
He said nothing at first, his gaze lingering on hers with an intensity that made her heart skip. She could see the reluctance in his eyes—the hesitation born not from duty, but from something far more personal. Yet beneath that hesitation lay understanding. They both knew he wasn't the type of man to linger aimlessly, no matter how much his presence might comfort her.
Finally, with a quiet sigh, he reached for her hand, lifting it to his lips in a gesture that carried more meaning than words ever could. The faint brush of his kiss against her knuckles lingered even as he rose from the bed, his warmth slipping away as he moved toward one of the many doors leading into the adjoining rooms.
Sineka watched him go, her heart still fluttering faintly in her chest as the door closed softly behind him. Despite the challenges that lay ahead, she clung to the quiet certainty that they would face them together—one step, one moment at a time.
And for the first time in weeks, she allowed herself to believe that everything might truly be all right.
YOU ARE READING
A Bride for the Desert King | Crocodile
Fanfiction"Marry me," she commanded, almost. Crocodile narrowed his eyes at the impertinence of the woman who stood in front of him. "Ara," he heard Ms All Sunday mutter amusedly. "Who are you?" "Sineka Duskblade," she replied.
