Trajan X Skeleton Reader

Chapter 5: Blankets

You woke up to the dull ache in your shoulder.

The pain was manageable now however, more of a throb than a stab now, but it still dragged a small groan from your throat. You turned your head slowly, eyes squinting against the dim red glow washing over the room. A heater in the corner hummed softly. The walls were lined with cracked stone and covered in posters, some music-related, others showing battle poses of old Royal Guards. A shelf of half-finished figurines and books sat next to a cluttered desk.

You were definitely not in a hospital.

Your eyes landed on a familiar figure: Trajan.

He was sitting on the floor, leaning against his bed, one hand loosely curled into a fist. He looked up the second you stirred. All four of his eyes flickered with relief.

"Hey," he said quietly, voice rough like he hadn't spoken in a while. "You're okay."

You blinked at him, taking in your surroundings again. The blanket covering you was thick and soft, the scent oddly comforting like leather, and something that might've been cinnamon?

"Where am I...?" you asked, throat dry.

"My room," he answered. "I... I didn't know where else to take you."

You glanced at your shoulder, noticing the bandage. It wasn't perfect, but it was clearly done with care.

"You did this?" you asked.

He gave a small nod. "I... yeah. Tried to stop the bleeding. It wasn't too deep. Lucky."

You tried to sit up, wincing as pain tugged at your bones. Trajan immediately moved to steady you but stopped himself at the last second, hands hovering awkwardly.

"...Thanks," you muttered, voice barely above a whisper.

There was a pause. He sat back on his heels, looking down.

"That... wasn't supposed to happen," he said suddenly. "He didn't know who you were."

Your brows furrowed. "Your dad?"

Trajan nodded. "He's been on edge. There's been rumors of a human in the ruins. He thought you were one of them." His jaw clenched. "He saw you from a distance. He panicked. I didn't know he was out patrolling. I wouldn't have let you walk into that alone."

You looked away, trying to process everything. His glowing eyes. The bone magic. The way he struck without hesitation.

"He didn't even ask..."

"He doesn't ask," Trajan muttered bitterly. "He acts. That's kind of his thing."

Despite the frustration in his voice, there was something else there, something sad. Like this wasn't the first time his father had hurt someone by acting first and thinking later.

"He wouldn't have hit you if he knew," he added, softer this time. "You're... you're not like the others."

You looked back at him.

"Others?"

He didn't answer right away. He just stood, walked over to his desk, and grabbed a small bottle of ointment. When he returned to your side, he crouched again, avoiding your gaze.

"Here," he said, voice low. "This might help with the pain. Only stings a little."

You let him apply it. His touch was careful, his fingers shaking just slightly.

The silence between you felt heavier than before, but not in a bad way. It felt... safe. Real.

"You didn't have to help me," you said.

"I know."

"Why did you?"

Trajan looked at you, then really looked at you. For a moment, you saw something behind those eyes. Something human.

"Because no one helped me when I needed it."