Riven crouched near the edge of the bed, his hands moving with purpose as he lifted the dusty sheet that draped slightly over the wooden floorboards.
Riven couldn't help but sneeze. He frowned at the state of this room. Just because he was not living there anymore, those servants refused to clean it.
He reached underneath, stretching his arm deep into the dark crevice beneath the bedframe until his fingers grazed something solid, cold to the touch and edged with splinters.
He tugged it free. A small, worn box, aged and unadorned, as if it had been forgotten for years. Dust clung to its corners, and the metal hinges creaked faintly as he set it down on the bed.
He was about to take a seat beside Ronan when he felt firm hands grab his waist and pull him down, not beside, but onto his lap.
"Ronan," Riven blinked, a bit flustered by the sudden closeness, "I can sit beside you, you know."
