The Night was a still one, a rare gem for Denocte as silence reigned — the only sound, this deep in the night, was the sigh of Calligo's gentle breeze. It sent the silk curtains billowing quietly through the Kings chambers, the moons light stretching longingly to caress the rough hewn shape of him. Reichenbach's chambers were surprisingly rustic, for though he enjoyed the finer things in life (and robbing them, for the fun of it) he had no need for jewels or gold. The King Crow was known for his heart, and as such it was all he needed. He would have been just as happy, if not happier, laying out underneath the stars by Vitreus Lake. As long as the sleeping man beside him was there too. 

The moonlight faltered and stretched to embrace the ivory shape curled up beside him, sliding milky fingers over each regal line of his pearl. Isorath looked elegant even in sleep, his long lashes brushing the fine curve of his cheekbones, his hair sprawled in ivory waves across the pillow. So beautiful. So handsome. An intimate smiled curled slowly over Reichenbach's black lips, his silver eyes swallowing every piece of the man beside him. He tucked Isorath closer to him, laying his head beside the Kirin despite being completely and utterly awake. Their hair tangled, ebony curls mixing keenly with ivory strands. 

Isorath had gone to Day.

Willingly and with gifts.

Reich stared at the sleeping line of his lover, begrudging. He had always lacked diplomacy, despite Iscariot's teaching, and lately had felt a distinct lack of need for the political behaviour — had even considered returning Night to an isolated state. Perhaps... perhaps if Torstein had not savaged Aislinn, he would have played with the idea of attempted amends. Rhoswen adored the sun-soaked place, and he'd even been friends with Bexley — but now..

Now.. Day had earned his full hostility. 

Aislinn was family. She might not have been Crow, but she had supported him from the very beginning — from the start of their ill-fated romance even to now... she supported Night and so supported him. The Champion of Battle was bonded to him, and he to her. Torstein had better watch his fucking back. 

Reichenbach felt his lip curl and glanced at Isorath, letting the scowl drop away as his telekinesis brushed a piece of soft hair from that beautiful face. Had it been anyone else making the trip to Day, he would have made his fury known — but Isorath was... untouchable. He couldn't have roared at him if he tried. Not that the King of Thieves wanted anyone to know such a thing — it simply was what it was. 

A slow breath brought with it the familiar scent of lavender oil and tea, calming his broad chest and racing mind. The Night was long and quiet, and for now, in this moment..

..he was content.