It had been quite a while.

Burn had been playing hopscotch on the line between life and death more times than he could count since popping into existence. Just another Tuesday, really.

Absorbing 3% energy of a dying sun was one such adventure. But the recovery, now that was the real kicker. He had lost a whopping 50% of his bodily mass. That's right, half his body had decided to take an unscheduled vacation. Talk about a radical weight loss program!

But for appearance sake, he focused on healing his face completely and slowly recovered the rest of his body. After swaddling himself in enough bandages to make a mummy blush, he slipped into his trusty enchanted armor.

All set, he rejoined his entourage, strutting back like nothing had happened after wrapping up his to-dos. A sun-scorched, half-disintegrated, bandaged marvel, making a stylish comeback without showing the damage he absorbed.

"I'll be taking a day off. Tell everyone to prep their reports for the day after tomorrow. And what about the outsiders?" Burn casually asked Galahad, who was keeping pace with him.

"We've got them under more locks and keys than a high-security prison. That includes the White Dwarf too, sir," Galahad replied.

"Good," Burn nodded, as he ascended the steps of the Edensor palace.

As he entered the door, he turned his face forward, and the first thing he noticed was—

“Your Majesty!”

Suddenly, Yvain launched herself at him, arms outstretched like a missile with a hug for a warhead. Before Burn could even process the flying tackle of affection, Morgan joined the hugathon, practically sprinting towards him.

It was like being ambushed by a well-coordinated team of professional huggers.

Or maybe it was just him moving at the speed of a sedated snail today.

"You must be truly worn out if you're not shoving us away," Morgan observed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Her hand roved up to his neck, fingers gently exploring the texture of the bandage hiding shyly beneath his armor. She pulled back after gently stroking his cheek, her eyes completely emotionless.

“Ain, let’s allow His Majesty to rest.”

Looking down, Yvain was clinging to his waist like a barnacle to a ship, his face buried deep in the unforgiving chest plate of Burn's armor.

Come to think of it, the boy’s father never came home.

“Sure!” Yvain raised his face after a long pause, a grin spreading across his face like a sunrise. "Don't worry, Your Majesty, I'll help Galahad sort out the mess!"

Yvain, the miniature whirlwind, spun around to Galahad, and tugged the man’s hand away from Burn and Morgan. A tactical retreat, leaving the adults alone.

Silence hung heavy between Burn and Morgan.

"What do you want?" Burn finally broke the silence, noting Morgan's inscrutable stare. "I'm wiped out right now—"

"I was planning to accompany you to bed," Morgan said.

"What?" Burn's eyebrows shot up.

"Escort. I meant, escort," Morgan quickly corrected, her gaze straying to the bandage peeking from his neck. "Are you able to walk?"

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"I walked here, didn't I?" Burn retorted.

Morgan just nodded, "Fine."

Burn, seeing the conversation was going nowhere, turned to head to his room. But oddly enough, Morgan tailed him through the corridors, all the way until he reached his room.

He was finally ready to embrace the sweet siren call of rest and recovery when Morgan’s hand lodged itself in the door, preventing him from closing it.

“What again?” Burn asked impatiently.

“Can you take off your armor yourself?”

“I put it on myself. I’d say that’s harder than taking it off.”

Morgan stared at him for a solid second before nodding and withdrawing her hand from the door. She nodded and said, “Sleep tight.”

But weirdly, Burn didn’t immediately close the door. He widened the gap instead. Before opening his mouth, he asked himself why, but blurted it out anyway.

“Do you need a kiss?”

Morgan blinked at him, momentarily confused. But then, a subtle glint appeared in her eyes. She nodded.

“Mm-hm.”

***

Rising from the bed the next day was a Herculean task. But he had to, given that he had somehow managed to misplace a whopping 50% of his body mass.

Mere Force wasn’t going to cut it, he needed to embark on an all-you-can-eat adventure.

Enter Galahad, his faithful servant, who, with years of experience in Burn's peculiarities, had already anticipated his needs.

And so, Galahad had conjured up a feast that would make even the most gluttonous Roman emperor blush. There was an obscene amount of food, thoughtfully balanced between healthy and heavenly.

Mountains of roast chicken, rivers of vegetable stew, forests of crisp green salads, and skyscrapers of freshly baked bread. Then, meat. Lots and lots of meat.

The table groaned under the weight of this gastronomic spectacle. If it was possible for food to feel fear, they'd all be quaking in their plates.

A feast of biblical proportions lay sprawled before him, far exceeding what any mere mortal could possibly consume.

"Woah!"

Yvain's jaw was practically scraping the floor. "You're going to eat all this?" He stared at Burn, who had cleverly disguised his decimated physique under his loose-fitted clothes. "Can I have just a bit?"

Burn sneered. Oh, bless his little cotton socks. The boy had finally remembered he was a child and acted his age now.

"Take as much as you can," Burn said as he initiated his breakfast... or lunch, depending on how you viewed the ticking clock. Nonchalantly, he queried the boy, noticing the conspicuous absence of the usual suspect, "Where's your Master?"

"Master?" Yvain was making a beeline for a chicken thigh when Burn's question halted him mid-reach. "Oh, she mentioned something about an errand. But, before she left, she put me on 'His-Majesty-watch' duty."

"Hmm, she's not running away, is she?" Burn mused aloud, then leveled a pointed look at the lad. "You, stick around until she shows up."

"Ah, back to being a hostage, am I?" Yvain sighed wearily. "Master will be back. She was in front of your door, guarding till the crack of dawn. You were probably too busy impersonating a log to notice."

Huh.

Was she fretting over his potential demise? Well, they'd all respawn at the checkpoint if he croaked.

"Isn't it nice to know someone's losing sleep over you?" Yvain flashed an innocent grin. "I worry too, you know!"

Worried?

Burn found himself retracing his steps, back to when Yvain had nearly tackled him in a bear hug upon sight.

He recalled Morgan tailing him to his room, her concern thinly veiled under the pretense of ensuring he could still walk and manage his armor.

The image of her slender fingers clutching the door, her face half-concealed by the sliver of space, her gaze fixed on him... could it have been worry etched in her eyes?

Burn observed this with an almost detached curiosity.

Hmm.

He couldn't remember ever being on the receiving end of a worried glance before, so he couldn’t be sure.

She had kissed him, then stepped back to let him close the door. Whether or not she had drained his Force, he wasn’t sure; he had been too spent to perceive much of anything, his Force sputtering and sparking like an overworked generator, straining to keep him alive.

But she seemed fine.

"Did she use her Vision energy to recover much quicker?" Burn mused aloud.

"Master said, when you return, you'll be a complete mess, so she has to be ready to step into your shoes and protect everyone," Yvain explained. "You did kick off a war, remember?"

"Oh."

Burn prodded at his temples. Right, the next hurdle was the Inkia Kingdom. It was a significant thing in his memory bank, so Morgan might—

Hold on.

When had he started considering these two as part of his people?