The Mouse and The Monarch

5

~MOUSE~

Ophelia's combat boots echoed softly against the metallic floor as she stepped into her barrack, the heavy grey door sliding closed behind her with a muted thud.

The dim light cast shadows on the walls, creating an atmosphere of quiet tension.

The air was filled with the lingering scent of gunpowder, fatigue and a faint smell of sandalwood.

Her brows furrowed as she inhaled the scent.

She loved the smell of sandalwood.

Ophelia hesitated at the threshold of the shared barrack, her gaze immediately drawn to the lone figure of König.

She knew it was him because of how huge the shadow in the corner of the room was.

The dim glow of a solitary lamp cast a play of shadows on the room's concrete walls, and there he lay, reclined on his bed.

His hood obscured his face as he leaned against the wall, arms dropped at his side.

Closing the door with a soft click, Ophelia felt the heavy silence enveloping her.

Her eyes lingered on König, noting the stillness that clung to him like a second skin.

As she peered closer she felt an intense wave of relief when she saw his eyes closed.

He seemed to be asleep.

Of course, he was. She had seen the redness in his eyes, seen it in her own more than once.

She was positive that if the black paint on his face was to come off, he would have eye bags and grey bruises from sleepless nights.

She shot him an irritated look as she walked across the room quietly.

If he sleeps like a fucking lunatic propped against the wall, I'm never going to get any rest. She thought as she crept over to her bed and grabbed her duffle bag.

The thought sent a shiver down her spine.

All soldiers slept differently, most in a bizarre way that made them feel safe.

His position made it seem like he was waiting for someone to come through the door and attack him.

He was asleep, yet his body still seemed tense.

Attempting to dismiss the nagging feeling of unease, Ophelia shifted quietly through her duffel bag, pushing items aside and grabbing a clean pair of clothes and a toothbrush.

The creak of the floor beneath her boots seemed amplified in the stillness, but König remained unmoved as his lean, muscled chest rose and fell gently.

Ophelia clutched her comfortable black track pants and a simple white singlet to her chest as she stood up.

The familiar touch of the military-issue fabric brought a sense of normalcy in the relentless chaos she was used to.

The physical toll of the day weighed heavily on Ophelia.

Travelling from plane to helicopter and then by boat to the island had made her exhausted.

Her fatigue was etched in a sheen of sweat on her skin and the heaviness of her movements.

She carefully walked towards the small white door to the bathroom. Her movements are silent as she reached for the door handle.

Something made her stop.

Turning her head she looked closer at the Colonel.

The back of his head was against the wall, dark helmet on his head. His eyes closed.