"Au-ronn..." Tidus, Son of Jecht, Prince of Zanarkand, eight-year-old inheritor to his father's throne, squirmed restlessly beneath his sheets.
"Aurooonnnn..."
There was the sound of paper rustling. A shape blotted the faint hallway lights in Tidus' doorway.
"Go to sleep, Tidus."
He scowled, and kicked off the comforter. Cartoonish renditions of the Zanarkand Abes mascot slid gently to the floor. "Can't sleep. 'M not tired."
"You have school tomorrow. Go to sleep." Auron turned as if to leave, one hand on the doorknob.
"Auron...c'n I have a story?" Tidus clutched his sheets beneath his chin, looking as adorable as possible. His guardian sighed, a short hnff through the nose.
"Please? An' then I'll go right to sleep, promise." The little boy tilted his head so a lock of hair fell forward and held his breath. He thought he saw the twitch of a smile behind the high collar.
There was a pause. Then the big ronin shook his head the smallest fraction and moved to the bookcase, selecting a worn volume from the shelf. Tidus squirmed back beneath the covers, pulling the comforter back over himself. Auron settled on the bed near the reading lamp and cleared his throat a trifle awkwardly.
"One day, when Christopher Robin and Winnie-The-Pooh and Piglet were all talking together..."
"This is my favorite story," said Tidus, worrying the bound tail of Auron's hair in his fingers.
"Tidus."
"Sorry."
But this time Auron definitely smiled.