Peritas lies at his feet, a ball of fur to warm his toes in, and for the time being he's content to let the pup make his home there.
The sun begins to climb higher in the sky as he drowses, the rays just touching the floor around the overly large bed.
He had been dreaming of the golden fields of his childhood, a thing long dead, and of his father, also long put to rest.
The bed still smells of fresh grasses and oils and beneath that, something sweet. Alexander clings to everything he touches, holds fast with a grip that one cannot break free from.
Outside, he can hear the world coming back to life. The shouts of the men echo from below and the smell of horses wafts in on the light breeze.
It has been so long since he's been allowed this small luxury of hiding away beneath heavy cloth and finely embroidered pillows.
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