He didn't mind worshipping her. He had brought a legend into his house for reasons that now felt small and human. In return, she had given him back, his child. Let the world and its frantic, selfish noise wait at the door. His devotion was here, watching over the deep and dreaming sleep of the one who had remade his world.
He reached out, his fingers impossibly gentle, and brushed the silken strands of hair that had fallen across her cheek.
"Tickling…" she murmured, her face scrunching slightly in her sleep.
A soft, fond chuckle escaped him. "Silly…" he whispered, his voice a low rumble in the quiet room. "Where is it ticklish?" He let his fingers drift to the bridge of her nose, giving her nostrils the faintest, most playful pinch for a second.
"Hmmm…" she hummed, a sound of sleepy protest, and turned her face deeper into the pillow, away from his teasing touch.
