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It was late. Very late. So late, you could argue that it was actually early. That in-between time when you're nowhere near ready to get up and start the day, but you know if you lay back down it'll take you over an hour to catch a meager handful of extra sleep. The absolute worst time to be unceremoniously yoinked from your dreams. That late.
At least, that's how late it felt. There were no clocks in the Emperor's private chambers. Not a demon scroll, nor pocket watch, nor sundial to tell time. Not like the latter would be any real help in a series of rooms without windows. It was too easy for an assassin to make it across the spiked moat, scale the enchanted walls, and slip into the pitiful arrow-slits the other lower apartments were allowed. At least, that's what he always told you with that way too understanding smile whenever you lamented the loss of being greeted to sunlight in the morning.
So, you were forced to rely on your ever-sharpening internal clock. Which was currently very annoyed to be woken up at the horrible in-between time we just mentioned. With a low grumble, you sat up, bleary eyes blinking in the nearly impenetrable darkness of the opulent bedroom in search of the cause of your ire.
The soft glow of the lone, low burning torch in the room cast it's frail, flickering light on the hunched form of the one who held your heart. Loose, ashen blond locks swayed gently as the Emperor himself rocked to and fro. One long fingered hand gripped the sheets beside him in a death grip while the other repeatedly raked diagonally across his chest. Though you could not see his lips, you could hear snippets of the words ceaselessly tumbling from them, each one identical in tone and volume.
Your frustration evaporated in an instant. Oh. It was one of those nights.
With slow, deliberate movements, you crawled across the veritable sea that was your ludicrously large bed to be by your beloved's side. Your frown deepened as his front came into view.
Those gorgeous, cornflower blue eyes were wide and unblinking; locked onto someone or something far removed from you by time and space. Despite the protection of his nightshirt, you could see small patches of dark liquid seeping through along the path his hand carved over and over. The same path as that horrible scar that divided his torso. Was it fluid from the curse this time, or blood? Either way, it would have taken several minutes for the skin to crack open. You had made a point to keep his nails short and blunted after the first episode he was unable to hide from you.
"Philip." You called out softly, your closest hand coming up to gently grasp the offending wrist. Pulling his twitching hand to your face, you pressed a soft kiss to the knuckles. "I'm here, my love. You're at home. In the palace. With me."
"Home." His voice shifted slightly higher in volume as he blinked. His rocking slowed the slightest bit. "Caleb? When is he...." His brow furrowed in confusion as those wide, empty eyes seemed to flicker to life for just a moment.
Your heart ached for the lost man beside you as you drew his captured hand to your chest. Physical contact always seemed to help ground him in these moments. "No, darling. Not Caleb." From the stories he had told you of his long passed brother, you felt as if you had known him in life as well. A beautiful light snuffed out too soon. The love they shared must have been immense for the echoes of that tragedy to still plague him all these years later.
You wished Philip would open up to you more about his brother, his past. Let you in to better help him find his way back to you during these heartbreaking moments. Still, with the limited amount of pain he had shared, you knew there were a few things to help guide his way home.
Your touch, your voice, and a prayer you had often heard him repeat to himself during those somber moments where his shoulders sagged and the weight of the Isles lay heavy upon them. His faith, born of a time and place far removed from your life, was not yours. But he was. And that was reason enough to commit the words to memory.
"Let me find Thy light in my darkness, Thy life in my death, Thy joy in my sorrow." Your lips twitched up into he smallest of smiles as his head turned and his eyes finally found yours. As you continued, your smile grew as his lips began to move in time with yours, his whisper echoing just half a touch behind your soothing voice. "Thy grace in my sin, Thy riches in my poverty, Thy glory in my valley."
As his rocking slowed and his hand began to stir in your gentle grasp, you realized why that prayer was so easy for you to recall. Why you could feel the power of those words stir your heart as you spoke them to him.
"My Dove?" His voice, slightly hoarse from the repeated muttering, finally appeared to belong to a man seated with you in the here and now.
"I'm here, my love." The relief in your voice could not overpower the warmth and affection in your tone. "And I always will be."