gentleman, is she rly your wife if you don't kill her once?

It did not go unnoticed, the smirk on her love’s face.  Mythal enjoyed that expression occasionally, with varying degrees of satisfaction.  Even now, when it was directed at her.  She knew this was only because he was fully aware that she would not reprimand him, not when he answered her truthfully at her behest.  Even if she had not, he would have done so regardless.  He had always been honest with her, risking her displeasure in spite of their feelings for one another.  She tilted her head slightly.  Or was it because of their feelings for one another?  She trusted him.  Implicitly.  Hm.  It would likely not be so if she knew he was in the habit of only telling her what it was she wanted to hear.

Such strange thoughts!

But her look turned sly, as he nipped at her fingertip.  A slight crook of said finger, catching the bottom edge of those front teeth.  She sighed however, withdrawing her touch as she thought of things that she discovered that she didn’t quite want to think about.  To try and remember.  It frustrated her, to have to rely on someone else for the pieces she was missing, even someone so beloved.  She gave a minute shake of her head, sitting down abruptly afterwards.

Elgar’nan was here.  And alive.  Then it was only a matter of time before he discovered her and… she could only imagine the lengths he would go to hurt her, to seize her, and then destroy her.  A furrow appeared between her brows.  Who is this woman to you?  She must be precious for you to have spared her for my death.  Her voice was sharper than usual, but her eyes were… sad.  But he spoke of Arithari coming home.  We.

They had to forgive her.  They had to bring her home.

We had children?  Mythal swallowed, shiting in her seat as his palms warmed her cheeks.  Was I good to them?  Or… or did he not allow me to be?