Her husband's body was firm as if made of steel, but he always felt just the right warmth, and she found herself latching onto him every night. Her chambers were almost always empty; she preferred spending her nights here instead. Shireen ran a finger through his firm muscles and began tracing the myriad scars, big and small, marring his skin. He shuffled, and she looked up to see a familiar pair of amethysts gazing at her.