"Ahhh~"

Alkereth whimpered helplessly, delighted to be Emery's little man-doll. He gripped her hips as if his life depended on it, but then he found his hands pinned against the tree. His eyes popped open and he chanced a look at his love. Oh, how her blazing eyes *intoxicated* him so. He finally understood why he fell so hard and fast for her—

And then her hand was on his throat, *that was exciting*, god she was so deadly and fearsome like back when she captured him; how thrilling it would be to find himself bound by her again, he was spellbound enough as it is; oh he would let her take him any time of the day or night to give in to each other's basest pleasures... helpless, squirming, choking—

"ahhhHHHHHH~"

*Holy shit,* Alkereth thought, *that's a bit much, isn't it?*

But the dreadful implications of that thought popped out of existence as his focus was beckoned back to Emery, her weight and warmth so wonderful, the feel of her sucking wet pussy driving him back to that familiar edge...

But he held back this time, letting go of a high pitched whine, eager to give Emery exactly what she wanted. A song of *ecstasy*. He would serenade her with quickened breaths and uncontrollable moaning.

The bites followed up with consoling kisses and licks drove Alkereth wild. He really was not sure how long he could hold back, but a small, tiny part of in his brain praised him for doing such a good job in self-control. Baby steps!

"*I am your Princess!*" he blurted into the sky. *"I will always be your Princess!"*

Emery had to go and call him that *name* again—*princess*. It was annoying, it was disgusting and debauched; he wasn't a *princess* at all, it insinuated so many deplorable things, but—

*But damn,* he thought, feeling his face grow warm. "I could be," he said out loud, imagining all the terribly wonderful things that could happen if their roles had reversed... yes, there was a reason he put up with that nickname, a reason he didn't try and shut Emery down. He liked it. He liked the dangerous tongue-in-cheek tease, the humiliation. The hell was wrong with him?

He liked being a man. He liked doing things a male can do. Like this, for example—holding Emery, and feeling her make him grow hard with renewed lust. But he liked pretty things. Trinkets of gold and silver, gems on his breast and adorning his fingers. He was a goddamn peacock, whether he knew it or not. So, yes, he was going to wear that fucking princess crown, not just for his Sunfire, but because he was a fashionista at heart, and he will strut it proud... figuratively, of course. He was not sure he had the pocket change for a real crown, and he wasn't sure the locals would appreciate an ex-mage posing as royalty. But envisioning himself to be his real authentic self, away from judging eyes, to wear the most grand of studded silks with soft trousers and arms with laced cuffs, and a wonderful feathered hat to top it all off... would that ever be possible? His fantasies included Emery in them, but he wondered what she would think of his completely alien desires.

It was this out-of-the-blue thought, and Emery's grip and smooth rolling of her hips that brought his head back, his bare neck at her mercy, that let loose an involuntary moan. He was stiff as a rod again, and eager as a spring stag.

"Oh," he breathed between kisses, "you want to hear your princess sing, then?" He tried to control his hips, but it was easy to do when he felt meek from calling himself a princess. "I would be your slave, my goddess. Your tool to use forevermore if you will it."

Alkereth looked abashed after his release, blushing beneath the kisses. He could still feel himself pulse inside of her.

Damn, why did he have to be so loud? Holy shit. How embarrassing. That wasn't the only thought that made him hot around the collar. Still a little self-conscious about his over-excitement, he pulled at a lock of his hair just above his ear as he glanced up sheepishly. "I—I am so sorry, I wanted to warn you, but I just... I'm really terrible at that, aren't I." He deflated, letting his arms fall around Emery.  "It just felt amazing, and..." He shrugged, unable to stop himself from giving his goofiest grin. He knew Emery was drinking that special... 'tea', or whatever it was that Angel gave her to help prevent happy little accidents. He pushed anything baby related out of his mind.

"You needn't try. Every moment I'm not kissing you is agony." And he did so again, happy to lose himself in her kiss. Then he paused, worried. "Did you get your pleasure, my Sunfire? I—I know I finished a... bit too fast, there. If you... want to keep pleasuring yourself on me, I won't say no, just be gentle." True, he was sensitive, but he could not bear to walk out of this being the only one who got anything out of it. "Your moans are the best part of this, you know."

Fuck. He blew it. Abort. Abort. Abort. Abort—

"Yeah!" Alkereth laughed in a painful attempt to stem the awkward air, waving his hand as if that would help. "I'd say we're thicker than that, ahahaha—"

But then she kissed him, bless her goddamn soul, sparing the both of them from having to stumble and fall over each other like a couple of bumbling idiots (but let's be real, they're both a couple of bumbling idiots anyway).

It was easy enough to forget about it in the moment, because sex was such a wonderful excuse to lose yourself, so he went all for it, grasping her more firmly to himself and thrusting perhaps a little more sharply than he meant to, eager as ever to do this despite the stupid shit that almost fumbled its way out of his mouth.

In his lusty determination, he had felt himself ejaculate a bit too soon. And he wasn't exactly quiet about it, either.

What do you mean by that, exactly?

The pause in their love-making seemed to give Alkereth a proper 'reality check', like a splash to the face after a good night of drinking.

"I—"

Alkereth blinked and peered into Emery's beautiful eyes, but for some reason, the intensity in them made it difficult for him to prolong his stare. He glanced sideways.

He knew what he wanted to say, and he suspected that Emery was getting the idea of where he was steering, but now that this conversation was happening, he felt the whiplash after yanking hard on the reigns.

It would have been easier to tell her, had they kept going, heightened emotions and all. But now he found his tongue dry and stuck to the roof of his mouth, refusing to unstick itself out of sheer terror. Alkereth swallowed, working his stiff jaw, but nothing seemed to help. He looked foolish and dumb with his mouth opening and closing, like he was chewing open-mouthed.

"Ahem." Alkereth turned his head and coughed.

"I... I don't know," he finally said. "I just know that I am terrified of being alone if... you're not there by my side."

It should have sounded romantic. Given any other time, it could have been. Alkereth was matter-of-fact, masking the absolute fear that closed in from all around.

"Does that make sense?"

Why the awkward now?

Why couldn't he just fucking say what stirred in his heart?

Alkereth's breath fluttered into Emery's hair as she took him all in. Her flesh was so amazingly warm that he was reminded of slipping into a hot bath. For a moment, he was contented to hold her for a moment, planting kisses along her neck. Breathing her in, enjoying all that was her. But he was with her... there would be time to enjoy each other's company later. He was so breathless and feverish with excitement, that he began rolling his hips.

This is pure happiness, he thought. It wasn't just the sex—that was a plus, sure—but it was holding, and being held, and actually loving someone, and sharing their bodies. He was in it for more than just pleasure. Trust was the big one. He trusted this woman. And he was thrilled to be her chosen, to be the one she could take her pleasure with. To this day, he was amazed they had ever been enemies to start.

"Oh, were you," he murmured into her ear. "Could you have imagined you'd be bedding the man you dragged out of that crater? Did you think naughty thoughts when you tied me up?" What the hell, Alkereth! Was it too soon to joke about that incident?

"It was our first kiss that made me want to do something stupid." Oh, but the stupid already happened. And continued happening. He was now gripping her waist, helping her keep her balance as he encouraged her to bounce on him. "I always want to do something outrageous when I kiss you. Fly off cliffs. Kill a thousand soldiers. If only to kiss you again..." He kissed her lips. "And again, and again." He kissed her twice more, deepening the final time, wrestling his tongue with her's.

Then he broke from her, just now registering what she said. "Well," he said a bit candidly, "I hope not, because I'd have to kill the next bastard you take interest in bedding." The joke ended. He suddenly  gripped her arms, not forcefully, but with a kind of urgency as he bore his scarlet eyes into her own. "You're my one and only. I hope to be your one and only. I cannot ever bear to share you with another. This never has to end between us, Sunfire." Oh, it seems he was a little insecure.

"A good show?" The inquiry was a brief one in the midst of the foggy-brained man with a singular goal in mind. "We'll lose some daylight," he murmured weakly, not really meaning it, because to hell with it, what were they in a hurry for? Where were they going, anyway? He'd forgotten.

And if there's someone coming, the horses would surely... ahhhhh—

The sliver of reason (did he really have any to begin with?) all but drifted into the ether, offering only Emery to fill every facet of his senses. Her body felt so warm and inviting, the weight of her comforting and tantalizing.

He caught her shirt and tossed it aside, taking her back in his arms and pulling her in for a deep and hungry kiss. His hands roamed down her back, rough from weather and battles, but her skin, now so familiar, was the best feeling in the world. No inch of her was left wanting; he made sure to pay attention to every bit of her he could touch. Helping her with her trousers, he couldn't help but grin at the clumsiness of it, but then they were back to it as easily as if they had just started.

As he resisted the urge to start bucking, he felt his stiffness arch fiercely against her lower lips.

"You feel ready," he remarked, noting the open coolness on his cock was attributed from the collected wetness of Emery as she shamelessly ground upon him. "But so am I. You needn't do much to get me longing for you."

There was a strong blush on his face when he was told that he could keep his clothes on. He was tempted to keep the offer, but not because he was afraid they'd get caught, but because there was something so sinfully delicious about staying covered while a naked woman was grinding on him.

In response to all of this, he kissed Emery as he hoisted her rear up with his hands before guiding her down on him. He paused for a moment, letting the tip of his cock kiss her lips.

"Truth be told I find you incredibly discouraging. If you want anything more out of me, you'll have to stop touching me in a manner that makes me desperately need you."

But they both knew they were past the point of stopping. Distracted and completely enchanted by Emery's brand of beauty—the power in her arms and stomach, calloused hands, freckled nose, the goading stare, the red of her hair shimmering like fire in sunlight—the perfect recipe to create one melting Alkereth, who was so receptive to her touch, that he succumbed without much else that needed done. Calling him 'Princess', where it once got under his skin, was strangely arousing, too. The hell was wrong with him?

When Emery freed his cock, it bobbed stiffly in anticipation. Stroking him felt so amazing that he struggled with words.

"There's time," he gasped. "Later. At any rate, I am still thinking about your history. Emery Ramaker..." Daring to say her last name again was supposed to be a tease, but the rest of the words died on his lips before he could say much else. His hands got busy on her, caressing and gliding and cupping her small breasts through fabric.

"There's no one here to see, right?" A bit late to ask, but—the trees seemed to offer some cover.

Emery proposed a daunting task, and had already positioned herself before her prey could protest. He asked for this. After all, he was unwilling to let her go just moments ago. Even now, his hold on her never wavered. Wincing, he attempted to shift more comfortably, but her straddle made him grow unbearably stiff. He had the sudden urge to undo his trousers, but he couldn't, not with her warm thighs setting his groin ablaze.

Spurred by her eager hands, it was easy to convince her partner to be a willing participant in her nefarious schemes. He met the challenger by placing his trembling hands on her hips, gazing coyly into her face before she kissed him. When she gave him the grace to speak, it was with difficulty to get anything more than a stutter out of his mouth.

"I don't know if... if I c-could tell it... your lips, they're... so warm," he moaned pitifully, already dropping his head back. By God, he was going to try.

"Lunrath... She c-called to me," he murmured, breath hitching when he felt her wonderful lips trailing along his jaw. "And said  I had a choice to make... the choice was easy, I..." He let out a moan.

"And I... I made a choice that... that changed my destiny."

It should have sounded more dramatic, but Alkereth was spiraling happily into the bliss of being his partner's object of attention. So much, in fact, that he seemed to forget what he was talking about, and was already trying to fumble for the ties that kept his trousers up. His knuckles accidentally-on-purpose rubbed between her own thighs.

"For the love of God," he whimpered. "Take me. Please. You set my soul aflame, Emery."

"Oh, really? Is that so?" Alkereth couldn't be stopped; he was already nuzzling into her neck and planting soft kisses as she moved into him, playful in his approach, but a little more measured as he trailed his lips to rest on her's. And there he lingered, letting himself dive into the thrill of her lips, even allowing his hands to wonder—

But the happy little bubble they wrapped themselves in popped, and a mildly irate Alkereth broke off to glower.

"But I dun wanna," he mumbled. Who was the immature one, now? "But you're right. I haven't quite scratched the surface, and we've a lot of ground to cover... but it's a lot of it of boring stuff," he insisted. "But you got me all in a good mood... damn..."

He shifted uncomfortably, but not because Emery's legs was over his, but because the taste of her lips manifested his excitement down south. Emery might even be able to tell. But to show that he was not annoyed with her legs on him, he wrapped his arms around her to keep her there.

"Open book," he said out loud, more to himself. "Where did I leave off, anyway? We got side-tracked... but I'm afraid I may have difficulty staying focused. You're a blazing sun that I want to bask in." He said this with a sloppy grin, unable to help himself.

"Well, why not? Nobody here knows me, except you. I can literally come up with a new name (which I did, of course; what was it again, Alan-something?) and an age that Connlaoth can be happy with!" Alkereth narrowed his eyes when made fun of. "Are you mocking me? No. No, it's not that serious." He sighed loudly. "Silver what, now? What game is this?" He subconsciously ran a hand over the thick waves of his ghost-white hair, feeling himself trying to suppress a grin.

"Twenty-seven. Obviously, a person well beyond maturity—well, for SOME of you, anyway..." He flinched, his mouth tracing into the perfect shit-eating grin; he figured that Emery might react to his comeback.

"You are a wicked thing, making promises like that. But you're MY wicked thing," he added, wagging a finger in her direction, then pinching her nose in good fun. His tone sobered. "Now you know me." His movements slowed, less playful, but more soft in the way he glided his hands along her arms. "And I know you."

He was leaning into her, slightly drunk from the banter and overall unexpected happiness the conversation brought him. A powerful desire to taste her lips overwhelmed him; he needed her quite plainly as the sky needed the sun. "May I kiss you?"

Alkereth felt relief that Emery had not succumbed to a complete meltdown, so it made discussing it easier on him. He offered a little uncomfortable smile.

"Oh. Right. And I seem to recall that the brothel had elves. Elves aren't really a... new concept... but it's... oh, that is... a topic best left for another time. Perhaps over strong beer." Alkereth looked uncertain. He wanted to touch on something that he was not sure if Emery would take well, especially since it gave the average person a massive dose of existential dread.

"Anyway, I suppose in some way, I am human. Evolved differently, maybe. Alas... Aetherians think themselves too good to call themselves something so barbaric as 'human'." Alkereth scoffed. "I mean—look at us. We're anatomically similar. I'm completely fine calling myself human." He shrugged nonchalantly at this. As far as he was concerned, his pride was never in his blood.

"Ehh... I spent several years of my youth as a lowly priest, but... to be fair, I was still considered a little 'too young' to take on a distinguished position. We're deemed too inexperienced. It's a fair assessment, if I'm honest."

Emery asked the question, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't see it coming. It still gave him pause as he took the question into unnecessary consideration, but then smirk at her jab about being a 'cradle robber'. She did not just say that!

"Honestly, Emery? I... I don't know how old I am."

He let the words hang in the air without meaning to, and quickly added:

"Time is a fickle thing in the business of Harbingers. It's not the same wherever I go. One year is different from another. So... I lost track. If I had to guess, just by gut feeling, I'm probably well beyond one-hundred. But, but," he said, quicker still, "I can pretend to be younger than you, if it please you. I can be... what's the average young-ish age? Twenty-five, you mentioned earlier? Yes, I am twenty-five. And you? How old are you?"

God. They were JUST NOW discussing their ages.

The reaction was expected. Coiling into himself, he wondered if he should have spoken the truth, or come up with a lie. TRUTHFUL Open-book policy, he reminded himself. That didn't stop him from being a little defensive.

"Don't you have... I don't know..." Alkereth sighed, exasperated. "People that live hundreds of years on this godforsaken planet? Is it really that shocking? Ugh. In years, Emery. I'm still young! Aetherians are long-lived."

Then a nasty realization hit him like an ice-cold bucket to the face. It was not a nice thought, and one he was not eager to discuss out loud. Swallowing fiercely, he managed a little smile, punching that awful thought into some forgotten recess of his mind.

"But, yes. Cowards. Yes." A grasping attempt to steer the conversation back, but Alkereth knew his ginger companion wouldn't let this matter go away easily. After all, she did let an "old guy" sleep with her...

"Aside from my fellow priests conspiring to assassinate me?" Alkereth snickered. It was hardly anything to feel mirth about, but talking about it out loud felt so... funny to him.

"I did mention that there were some priests who were less than amused about my rise to High Priesthood. It didn't take long before a dissent to remove me began to take root. I had prophetic visions about their little game, and made plans of my own. I was going to... take matters into my own hands, and confront them head on. Of course, that entire plan fell through when Lunrath made her presence known... right in the middle of a very important ritual."

Alkereth stared skyward, exposing his throat. "She came to me as a light, and I mistook her for the moonlight wife-goddess. Then I heard her voice. I had a split-second decision to make. Let go of everything I knew, and begin a life anew as a Harbinger. Under the circumstances, the decision was easy. And one I don't regret." He paused, and looked at Emery sheepishly. "I was fifty-two when I left."

"It took me a long time to realize the Aetherians weren't... right. Having been exposed to many different cultures, and people, it broadened my mind. But... yes. I agree wholeheartedly. You're proof that you can change, but the Aetherians are hard pressed to keep to their ancient values. I think because my mother was in an unusual position, nobody could do anything about me without provoking her wrath."

Emery's playful touching tickled Alkereth; he giggled in that stupid way he does, squirming delightedly. "Do you want me to keep going, or is my neck that enticing to you?" Unbelievable! What were they even arguing about a few hours ago? He forgot.

"Yes, High Priest Fyarrimor—that was his name—favored me, and endorsed my studies. He was a powerful man, and quite, ah... progressive which made him unpopular, especially with the empire. Oh, but that's a huge political hole I don't want to push you in. Long story short, he liked that I was different. I suppose putting me in a position of power, young as I was, would help change the world. Fate had other ideas." Alkereth's voice lowered mysteriously, enjoying the effect he was giving.

"I was not a High Priest for long."

OOC edit: i rite gud lmao

As much as it hurt to be the object of Aetherian persecution, he had lived it so long ago and had a long healthy reflection enough not to spiral into a depressive episode. Been there, done that. Now he can pragmatically tell his story, however nervous. For he had never told it to anyone. Emery was the perfect audience: she scoffed at his people, and rightfully so, and called out the strangeness of it all. Her curiosity spurred him to tell his story with enthusiasm.

Alkereth choked from laughing. "Goodness! You're not too far off. Yes, bringing sin into Aetherian society is like trying to mix oil with water. They value purity. Devout worshipers of Lazamar. Perhaps you may wonder how the most feared boy became their High Priest." He laughed again, but it was quick, low, and cold.

"I joined the Order for several reasons. First, I was plagued by spirits. Rather than risk more ridicule by asking for an exorcist, I studied to be a one, the better to rid myself of them. Second, I was less scrutinized. A gifted mage among their ranks are highly prized. And a boy couldn't possibly be demonic if he's a devout follower of Lazamar. The High Priest at the time was the closest thing to a father I had; he had taken a great interest in my prowess. At his dying breath, he ordained me as the next High Priest, to some chagrin of the other priests."

The lad plucked another stick off the ground, fidgeting with that as he continued. "Oh, and they're extremely superstitious. You see... it was strange enough that my mother brought a tiny swaddled baby home without a father, but entirely another when it was discovered that this tiny swaddled baby was born during the unluckiest night of the year. Have I told you what my name means? 'Red as the Omen Moon'... my people named me for the moon I was born under. I was a demon to them. It made school and work difficult."

He considered Emery's words, tapping his stick on his chin. "The thing is... I don't recall a time my mother was ever interested in courting. Or sex, for that matter. As I grew up, I watched as few men begged for her hand. I always thought this odd, but I realized later that they hoped to move up in the world with a powerful and beautiful sorceress on their arm. Stranger still, they pretended to want to be a father to me. It never worked—my mother was content to be left alone."

Alkereth was impressed with his audience. "An astute observation, my Sunfire. It's strictly confidential to all." He was pleased to speak of such mysteries, even if they were frustratingly out of his reach.

"Hm—one born with great power could, in theory, become a member of the Great Nine. But that's just a guess. I am—was—quite powerful. I can boast that much, especially with the kind of, ah... work I used to do, among my many deeds and accomplishments." Indeed, the lad looked proud to say this, but it was fleeting. "I could never hope to take up my mother's mantle. Too many are fearful of me." While this was said with a bit of a lighthearted tone, his eyes appeared to be downcast.

"My mother could not be persuaded to reveal who my father was to anyone, not even to me, and no one would dare challenge her. I have been bullied as a child for being fatherless; some seem convinced that there was no father at all. That perhaps some evil craft had been done, and made me as a result. Mother would firmly remind me that they were only silly rumors—yes, she had extraordinary abilities, but not even she can summon a baby out of thin air. No, she insisted that she gave birth to me. And that I was so dearly wanted. I am compelled to believe her."

Alkereth possessed that far-off look again. For a moment, he let his eyes close. "I cannot express enough what an excellent mother she's been to me. I never doubted her love for a second. Every embrace was tight, never wanting to let go. I never had the heart to resent her when she had to be away, but I sorely missed her, especially since I've known what it is to feel ostracized and lonely. Anyway," he sighed, scratching at his nose. "My path became clear the day I met Lunrath. I no longer had to worry about inadequacy."

Alkereth laughed. "You needn't drag me down with you. I dived in right after you did. There's no turning back." He nodded sagely, lightly bumping his shoulder against Emery's. "Sex and booze are fickle creatures. Who knew that such wicked vices ended up being my ultimate downfall. Although," he added with some mirth, "I couldn't think of anyone better to share them with."

There was a dreamy expression on Alkereth's face when Emery shifted the topic. Bless her; she was doing him a favor by easing into it without jarring force. To bring up his mother was a good start, and he was only too eager to talk about her.

"Oh, yes," he said fondly. "We are close, despite her work doing its absolute damndest to separate us. But when we are together, when we could snag those precious moments, she made sure to make every second count. All my best memories are with her." Then his smile fell away as his thoughts crept toward something darker. "Despite it all, I don't know her well. She is a powerful sorceress. She belongs to the Great Nine. I don't understand the nature of her work, but I know my being a Harbinger pales in comparison. When she spends time with me, she never talks about herself."

He sighed, leaning back against the trunk of an oak. He was willing to open up, inspired by Emery's willingness and bravery to break down his own walls, and to spill every secret he had. To give testament to this, he gave Emery a bracing smile. "No... no, it's alright! I do want to tell you. But rather than struggle to tell it all at once, I think it would be easier if you asked questions. My mind is in a mad jumble; I don't think I am capable of giving a straight story. What else would you like to know?"

"Survivor's guilt," Alkereth murmured, understanding completely. "I'm sorry." It was a rare occasion where he found himself at a loss for words. This was easier when he was the High Priest of his Order—easier to supply comfort to an anonymous people. With someone he loved wholly, he could only feel a riot of terrible emotions that clung like a vicious leech, egging him to do something about it. Enough words—he desired action.

Jostled out of his private thoughts, he looked at Emery in slight alarm. "I—"

Before he could finish, he was bombarded with Emery's puffy-eyed apologies. A little overwhelmed by this, Alkereth shook his head firmly, and pulled the Mordecai to him in a firm embrace, burying his nose into her neck. Several weeks ago, he would have felt a triumph unlike any other, taking the 'sorry' as a victory and a 'I told you so'. But none of this even crossed his mind. If he felt anything, it was with gratitude and a swell of adoration for Emery's willingness to tear down her walls. Her trust was a fragile thing, and Alkereth took it with great care, holding it in his heart like a Fabergé egg.

"I do not blame you for anything. We are here now, a pair of broken people working to temper our dreams into reality." He gave Emery a soft, optimistic smile. "If it's any comfort... At least you can say that you have known family. You got to have them, people who loved you completely, however short a time that was. Yes—it's terribly cruel that they have been taken from you. I wish to God it never happened. And you have a pair of lovely people who took you in, after everything. That said, I... I would have given anything to have lived a normal life. A normal childhood."

Alkereth sat hunched with elbows at his knees, knowing that, at any moment, the story-time baton would pass to him. He bided his time, simply because his mind was heavy with thoughts of Emery and her trauma. He plucked up a stray stick, and began worrying it with his fingers, breaking off piece by piece, and mindlessly flicking them away.

A cold chill took hold, making Emery's companion deathly silent as she told her story. It was only when she had finished did he remember to breathe, and unfurl his hands so that his fingernails ceased biting into his palms. When he tried to speak, he had not even known that he had clenched his teeth, rendering his jaw quite sore.

"No, you're not a coward."

It was a start, but the words stumbled clumsily out of his mouth.

"You were just a child. There was nothing you could have done. You would have been killed. And I would never have met you. Thank God you ran."

Hands that clung around the trembled, but held her ever closer, fiercely protective.

"I'm sorry I made you relive your past. It is a memory, now."

That all being said, Alkereth brooded on his own words. If they will go to meet this man, now aged and likely feeble, what then? He decided not to ask. Not yet. It was nasty business, either way—and Alkereth already resolved that he wanted a part in it, to give more than just a scolding for marring the face of his beloved. But that idea only satisfied in the moment. He could not help but agree that the cycle needed to end, so that the innocent bystanders would no longer suffer in this blood feud.

But on the other hand...

God be damned, he thought savagely, gritting his teeth. He wasn't sure what to think anymore. He shoved the thoughts away, focusing his attention back onto the woman he held close, kissing her temple.

"Emery... thank you for entrusting me. I know it was not easy, telling me this. I am glad you're here, with me. I am glad you're able to tell your tale at all."