Vhalla bit her lip. She wasn’t sure how to form the words. Something about all that had been said, her recent dream, his low opinion of himself, placed this singular memory in the forefront of her mind. Vhalla sat and took his hand gently in hers, bringing it to her lips first in reassurance. He looked at her, a mix of pain, shame, and anger furrowing his brow. She sighed and turned his hand over, so the inside of his wrist faced upward. With her free hand she placed an index finger just below his palm running it up his forearm. Her fingertip caught on his sleeve and pushed it upward, revealing the ghost of a scar which she knew would be there. It was so faint that on the pale of his skin it was nearly invisible, but she knew to look for it. Vhalla brought her gaze up to his slowly.

Aldrik’s face drained of all the other emotions except horror as his lips parted. Vhalla held her breath, letting the shock hit him in silence. He wrenched his hand from her fingers, as though she had actually cut along his forearm. Vhalla could only look at him sadly before his eyes bore into her long enough that she was forced to avert her attention.

They sat facing each other on the bed as the silence dragged on into eternity. His breathing was rough, and he clutched the arm she had touched as though he was in pain. Vhalla couldn’t bring herself to look at him as she awaited the verdict.

“I never meant to violate you so,” she said weakly. Intentional or not, it remained that she had forced herself upon his most private of spaces, pilfering things that were not freely given.

Aldrik said nothing; he continued to attempt to get his breathing under control as his eyes fixed on her. Vhalla felt power radiating off of him; he was angry, he was hurt, and it made her feel all the more awful.

“I never wanted to.” She tried to explain, “I would’ve never done so—”

“Of course not,” he spat. “Who would ever want to see the twisted broken histories that lurk in my head? Only one person in this world should deserve to endure it.” That brought her eyes back to him.

“Aldrik, don’t say that,” she whispered softly, breaking under the anger in his gaze that she saw wasn’t really directed at her.

“Oh?” He laughed dryly. “How can you think so? You know what’s there now. What’s worse, you’ve lived it. Tell me, Vhalla, what’s it like to find out your prince is a coward? Is weak? Is scared? Is wicked? Is—”

“Human,” she said firmly, cutting him off. Aldrik paused. “Aldrik, I don’t know why ...” She took his hand in hers again, looking down at his arm.

“I won’t tell you,” he said sharply. Vhalla shifted, startled, she had hardly been about to ask. “Damn it.” He stood, pacing the room. “Even if I don’t tell you, every time you sleep it’s a roulette to see if you’ll find out.” He spouted a series of foul words.

Vhalla grabbed the blanket tightly; she’d never heard him use such vulgarity. “I wouldn’t say anything to—”

“Not even my brother knows, Vhalla.” He turned back. “Not even Larel knows, and she’s the closest person I’ve ever had to calling a true friend. I tried to tell her once and that just went over awfully.” He sighed and rubbed his eyes with his palms.

Vhalla had come to think of Aldrik as one of the strongest people she knew. Seeing him so close to his breaking point pulled her to her feet.

“End the Joining.”

He grimaced, shook his head, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“It only started after the Joining.” She pleaded, “Aldrik, please, I don’t want to hurt you. I want you to close what was opened.”

“And I want you to survive this war!” he nearly shouted. Vhalla blinked as his words stung the corners of her eyes. Still, he still was mindful of her wellbeing. Even when he was in so much pain, even when she had pilfered intimate knowledge of him, he refused relief for her sake.

“Mother Sun, woman,” Aldrik groaned. He crossed the room and stood before her, releasing his tension with a sigh. Slowly, gently, Aldrik wiped her cheeks. “Why are you crying?”

Vhalla hiccupped. “Because you may be the most amazing person I have ever met.”

“I am not. If it had been anyone other than you, I likely would have killed them on the spot and burned their body until there was nothing left but dust,” Aldrik swore darkly.

She knew it shouldn’t, but just hearing it put that way brought a small smile to her mouth.

Aldrik sighed. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be inclined to talk about these things.”

“That’s fine.”

“Tell me, from now on, no matter what they are. Whatever you see, I need to know,” he said gravely.

“I promise.” She nodded, apprehensive of what was locked away in his memories that gave him such fear.

Aldrik sighed and stepped away. “Vhalla, I need some time.” He rubbed his eyes tiredly. “I understand you didn’t choose this.” He swallowed hard. “I-I am not angry at you for it. I am not blaming you. But, this ... this, letting someone in is already so far beyond what I am accustomed to.”

“I didn’t realize.” Vhalla rubbed her eyes, hanging her head.

Aldrik tapped her chin, summoning her attention. “Good. It’s been better than good.” He shook his head. “I can’t even ... form sentences. This, you and I, my being pushed beyond the personal hell I built for myself, has been good. I’ve felt more like a man in the past months-weeks, in the past days being with you, than I have in years. As though I can enjoy things without—guilt. Good isn’t even the right word to say for it. You’ve let me be the person I always wished I could be and, I ...”

“I understand.” Vhalla spared him further struggle. “I’ll wait, take your time.”

“I just need to really understand what it’s like to have someone whom-whom I trust.” Aldrik avoided her gaze, scowling at himself. “Someone who knows my dark truths and who isn’t seeking something from me or is trying to use something against me.”

Vhalla nodded, taking a breath for courage. She pressed her palms against her eyes briefly to hold in more tears of hurt and frustration. Intentional or not, she had hurt him and that ground her heart into pieces. And now she had to leave him at his request; even if he needed time, it didn’t sit well with her.

Aldrik’s form was hunched and his eyes were somber as he led her down the passageway. There was a sorrowful resignation between them at the suppression of something that had just begun to blossom. It may be stinted, but Vhalla vowed she wouldn’t let the flame that burned between them be extinguished.

As if reading her mind, Aldrik turned. “Thank you.”

“For what?” She blinked at him.

“For not fleeing my side after you ... had to experience all that.” Aldrik rubbed his forearm.

Vhalla wondered if he even realized he was doing it. “I may not understand it all,” she whispered, braving a step closer to him. “But who you were made you who you are now. I wish you’d never had to suffer. But I’ll take the past gladly so I can share the present.”

She saw the beginnings of a smile that he quickly abandoned. Aldrik pulled her in for a tight embrace, and she heard his breath quiver. Before he could lose his composure, he turned and pushed open the secret door.

“Return at noon. My father will be expecting you then.” His voice was distant.

“I will see you then,” Vhalla said hopefully.

But the door had already closed.

Larel and Fritz were playing a game of Carcivi when Vhalla mindlessly stumbled into the downstairs of their inn. She gave them one glance, nothing more than acknowledging they were there, before dragging her feet toward the stairs. A chair scraped against the ground.

“We’ll finish later,” Vhalla heard Larel saying. The woman was quick on Vhalla’s heels.

“Larel,” Vhalla whispered weakly.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Larel rested her hands lightly on Vhalla’s quivering shoulders.