He'd only meant for her to be a dalliance. A plaything. Nothing more.

But she'd wormed her way into his heart.

No, to say it like that was to do her an injustice that he could not abide by. He'd fooled himself into thinking she could be anything other than... everything to him. He'd been lost ever since he first beheld her.

He'd thought the passions she stirred in him to be mere lust. Little more than amusement. As if she were some lesser being. And yet, every moment spent in her company, every time he bedded her, he did not find his interest diminishing, instead twisting into something he wrote off as an obsession. A thing to be wary of, be rid of, an addiction. Bad for him. That was why he didn't want to stop, of course. It had to be.

And then... then clarity struck him so suddenly it stole the breath from his lungs, and he knew with an unshakeable certainty that it was love. How could it not be?

She was everything good, and warm, and steadfast, and true. He should've been terrified - because admitting he loved her as he did meant admitting so much about his world was wrong, but if it were between one or the other, he knew there was no contest. How could loving her ever be wrong? How could she be inferior to him, when she was so beautiful? And clever? And good? And loving? He could see her as nothing less than an equal, and in many ways, she was even his better.

She was like... coming home, only from the perspective of someone who'd been homeless their whole life without knowing it. Or a blind man, now cured, and seeing the sunset for the first time.

When she told him that she was with child - their child - the amount of joy and wonder he felt could scarcely be contained within his heart. To think that their union had created life, that she would bring into this world a child that was part of each of them - it was such a simple concept, and yet he found himself ceaselessly in awe of it. To be with her while her belly grew, to hear her softly singing while she knitted in her chair (tune holding, being one of the few things she wasn't good at)... he'd never have imagined he could find such peace and happiness in something so mundane before, but he'd never known such bliss.

To imagine living without her now seemed impossible, and yet...

"Hail, Commander!" the sentries greeted as he strode into the embassy, expression stormy.

He'd managed to delay the summons from Elenwen for a good deal of time, but unfortunately, he'd reached the threshold of what he could reasonably get away with.

He could only hope whatever it was she wished to discuss would be brief; he had no intention of lingering here longer than necessary. The thought of leaving his love alone, so close to her due date, had him on edge. In addition to that, it was the first time since they'd started living together in that tiny stone ‘house’ that they'd been parted like this, and not being able to keep a careful eye on her made him... restless.

While it would be ideal to keep her by my side at all times, it's probably better this way, he'd had to repeatedly remind himself. Her comfort is of the utmost importance, and forcing her to endure being jostled about on a carriage for hours at a time would hardly ensure that.

He arrived in front of Elenwen's office, rapping on the door sharply.

"Ah, Commander, do come in."

An aromatic smell pervaded his nostrils, floral and sweet.

She sat in her arm chair, hand waving in an elegant gesture to indicate a tray of steaming cups before her.  

"Would you care for some tea?" the vipress queried, ever the image of a perfect, genteel hostess; all smiling fangs and flowery, poisonous prose. He felt his jaw clench.

"What is it that you wished to discuss, Elenwen?" he groused, settling himself into the armchair opposite hers. "It must have been important for you to have been so insufferably impatient."

"My apologies, Commander, it sounds as if my summons have terribly inconvenienced you. Did I pull you away from something of great import?"

"Yes, as I told you in my replies, before you insisted that this meeting was necessary. Now, will you be telling me what it pertains to, or am I expected to guess?"

She let out a caw of a laugh, "My, but you are even more prickly than usual. Are you in that great a hurry to leave?"

He gave a tired sigh. "While I could spend hours basking in your radiant visage, I would rather like to get back to my duties."

Her response was a thoughtful hum, turning her attention to the tea set before her. He endured the agony of her preparing her drink; painstakingly selecting each sugar cube, slowly stirring it in - pausing as if to check that the cube had fully dissolved... and then stirring again, testing the taste, before searching for another cube and repeating the process. Wrinkles formed on his nose and deepened as he beheld the creation of such a saccharine monstrosity.

"Ah," she sighed, a satisfied smile curving her lips, "perfect. Thank you for your patience, Commander. I believe I am ready to begin now."

She shared her information and asked her questions, all of which, he noted with rising vexation, could've easily been discussed via their usual coded letters.

He tried not to appear too relieved when she finally released him - the dull throb of a headache had set in, which he was sure would dissipate as soon as he was removed from her presence.

He had just neared the door when her voice called out suddenly.

"Oh, how terribly rude of me! I can't believe I nearly let you leave without offering you congratulations!"

He ground his teeth, peering at her over his shoulder but maintaining a firm grip on the door handle.

"Come again, Ambassador?"

She let out a poisonous laugh, "For pity's sake, Commander! Surely you haven't forgotten? Dear me, whatever would your lover say if she heard?"

His hand slipped from the door handle, turning toward her completely.

It was as if all the air had vanished from the room.

She continued on, unfazed by the fact that his head felt like it had been submerged in a bucket of icy water, "Whatever else could I be congratulating you on? Why, for that little bastard you fathered, of course!"

"How did you find out?" She scoffed, "It was hardly a secret. You know, I've always questioned your intellect, but I never thought you'd be so... sloppy." She took a sip of tea, smiling as her virulent yellow eyes met his.

Weren’t his subordinates loyal to him? Did she have other informants? He’d been so careful-

No... that was untrue. Harpy though she was, she was right in this - he’d been careless - feeling so well hidden behind those stone walls. He inhaled sharply through his nose, before remembering himself - remembering who he was. He leaned back against the door languidly, arms folding across his chest as he quirked an eyebrow at her, "And why should I have hid it? I should think my position would afford me-"

"Your position," she bit out, tone-shift as sudden and sharp as the crack of a whip, "is exactly why it matters, you insufferable buffoon. As Justiciars, we are to lead by example; to be the very embodiment of our values."

"It's hardly as if she's an ordinary human!" he found himself bristling, hating how boyish the words sounded as they tumbled out of his mouth. "I'll have you know that I checked into her lineage, and-"

Her lip curled into a sneer, "Irrespective of the pedigree of your bitch, breeding with dogs is vile and repugnant. Considering your lineage, I'd have thought you'd know better."

Another sugar cube fell into her cup, china clinking as a careful hand stirred the tea. "Now, before you further tarnish the name of your great house or our order, I would advise you to cut ties. Permanently. Otherwise," a soft hum, "well, I doubt you'll like the consequences."

He stared at her, trying to read her face, eyes narrowed. "This again? Stop your childish threats, Elenwen. You may be First Emissary, but you know you can't touch me. My family-"

"You are entirely right," she said slowly, her mouth curving a cloying smile, "I cannot touch you."

A beat passed as the words registered, and then he was lunging forward before he'd even realized he'd moved, something akin to a snarl tearing from his throat.

"Do not bare your teeth at me, Commander! I am not the one who has proven to be a traitor to our cause!"

"Traitor?! After all I have done? You would call me a traitor? You? Whose sheer idiocy-" he froze - barely able to force his mouth to snap shut as he remembered who she was, and that his lover was currently vulnerable and beyond his reach.

"Go on then," she said quietly, a dangerous glint in her eye. "Presume to insult me further."

A hot flush scorched the back of his neck. He bit his tongue, coppery taste filling his mouth as he fought to stifle his rage, tight, shaking fists held at his sides.

"Now then, if you're quite done throwing your little tantrum, you will sit."

He stared at her a beat, before closing eyes and letting out a slow breath.

Then he stuffed down his pride, forcing his knees to bend.

"Good boy," a sardonic smirk twisted her lips, "Dear me, but spending time amongst these barbarians surely has done a number on your manners. Your mother would be appalled."

She raised her teacup and took another sip, sighing before setting it into its saucer and onto the table.

"I expect you to deal with this matter swiftly."

His gut roiled, "But surely-"

"Am I to understand you wish to be guilty of insubordination?"

"...No."

"Good, then you know what must be done. Clean up your mess, Ondolemar."

The chair scraped loudly against the floor as he practically flew out of it, needing to escape so he could think, so he could figure out-  

"Oh, and Ondolemar?" Elenwen called once he'd wrenched the door open. "Do it properly- I would hate to have to sweep up any loose ends for you."

He looked down at her sleeping form, his hand ghosting over her swollen belly. He drew it back and into a fist - he had no right to touch her again, not with what he aimed to do.

"Ondolemar?" she murmured, stirring. How the hand at his side itched to softly smooth her hair, so mussed from her slumber. How his lips ached to adorn her face with kisses - he'd start with those heavy-lidded eyes that slowly blinked up at him, then move to the warm, pinkened skin of her cheeks. He'd turn her face in his hands, peppering her jawline and maybe nibbling the shell of a small, half-pointed ear just to hear her breath catch, whispering sweet words against her skin to make her shiver and giggle under the tickle of his breath. He'd languidly stop at each delicate brow, moving on to the tip of that cute, little nose, and then, finally, he'd arrive at her soft, sweet lips...

He watched as the fog cleared from her gaze and her eyes became bright, arms reaching out and opening for him, "Oh! It’s not a dream, you're home! I missed you so!"

When ample time had passed and still he had not moved to embrace her, her brow slowly crinkled, head tilting as she asked, "What's wrong, my love? Did something happen?"

He glanced at her arms, still extended towards him, small palms tilted heavenward, before sharply looking away.

"Don't call me that," he muttered.

"Huh? Don't call you what?" she asked, bewildered. "Ondolemar?"

"Not that," he snapped, "Are you daft? I am not your love."

Stunned silence.

"What happened while you were gone?" she asked, a quiet, unfamiliar apprehension in her voice. He flinched.

Her anger he could've handled. He expected it- hells, he wanted it. But he didn't know how he could stand against her shrewdness. He didn't answer her, instead moving toward a stone table, snatching up a book from its surface and pretending to examine it.

"I'm afraid I've come to deliver some rather unfortunate news," he announced. The combination of the arrogance in his voice and the dispassionate expression on his face was like a mantle he was all too familiar with wearing. Once he'd realized he'd been stripped bare under her keen-eyed gaze, once he accepted that he wanted to be, he never thought he'd be able to don it again in her presence. Now that he knew he could, he hated himself for it.  

"Well, unfortunate for you, that is," he continued airily. "It would seem our time together must come to an end."

"What?" she whispered. "What are you talking about?"

"Am I to spell it out for you then?" he sighed. "Very well. After we've wrapped up our little chat, you and I will no longer... associate with one another."

"I don't-" he heard the little hitch in her breath. "I don't understand. Why are you saying this? What happened?"  

He shrugged, running a gloved fingertip along the book's spine. "Nothing happened. Put simply, I'm bored with you. I will admit, this little dalliance was amusing, for a time. But it's gotten a bit tired, hasn't it?" He let out an arrogant guffaw, "Why? Surely you didn't think I was serious about you? Did you truly believe that a mer such as myself would stay with you? You humans sure are full of yourselves - such fantasies you harbor. Though, I suppose, who could blame you? In any event, it would be better for you to just think of our time together as a rare gift."

"That- no, none of this makes any sense. You love me."

His nostrils flared.

"I can assure you, I do not."

"That can't be true- I can't believe it," she declared, fear bleeding out of her voice and giving way to a righteous sort of conviction that had his heart twisting with adoration and dismay. "This isn't you. You would never be so cruel. Not without a good reason. Tell me what it is. Please, I- I can't help you if you shut me out. Whatever the circumstance, I'm sure we can-"

"Your first mistake, human," he sneered, "was thinking that you knew me at all. The second, thinking that I ever loved you, you stupid woman!"

A suffocating silence enveloped the room. 

Broken first by a hiccupping breath.

Then hushed sobs.

And then his heartbeat in his ears.

"And our child?" she asked, voice wavering and small.

"Your child, you mean?" he heard himself say. "You think I care about a little half-breed mongrel? You think I'd recognize such an affront to perfection as my child?"

"No," she whimpered. "No, no, no, it can't be true. I can't believe you. I won't."

He swallowed thickly, the weight of that mantle growing heavier with each passing second.

Every lie that fell from his lips tasted like ash upon his tongue; as though he'd taken hold of their story and with his words set it aflame, and now those ashes drifted down from the pages of every tomorrow they could've had.

He had to depart from here, swiftly, lest he lose his nerve, lest his foolish heart break apart right here before her and she saw beneath his mask.

"What you choose to believe is not my concern."

"Ondolemar, look at me."

He could hear her voice, feel her presence, just behind him. He said nothing, lips tight as his feet moved him across the room.

"Why won't you look at me?"

Suddenly, she was before him, arms reaching for him yet again. He recoiled as if she'd burned him, slamming backwards into the wall and sending the book flying from his hand.

"Don't touch me!" he hissed. His eyes snapped shut too late; the image of her pained, pleading expression, face mottled pink and tear streaked, hands held out in supplication was already burned into his brain.

"Ondolemar," she sobbed. "My love- please. Don't do this. Tell me why- because I can't- I can't-" her words died off, replaced by broken weeping.

His body trembled with the effort of holding himself back from pulling her into his arms.

"You are right about one thing; I have been... needlessly cruel. My intention was to ensure that you understood the finality of my decision and did not attempt to contact me in the future, however I see now that in doing so I was... overly harsh. For that I apologize. However, it is true that I-'' he cleared his throat, attempting to disguise the sudden thickness in his voice, "Pardon me. Harsh a reality as it is, the simple truth is that I don't want you anymore. And I don't want to look at you because... I am trying my best to preserve your dignity as well as the image I have of you now; composed, contented, and a testament to your race- before the effects of this conversation, and before your rapidly aging body loses its... splendor."

She was silent now, but for the occasional shuddering breath and quiet sniffle. And somehow, that was worse than when she’d been openly wailing. 

He gestured lamely towards the dining room, "You'll find a coin pouch on that table; I trust you'll find the amount satisfactory. I hope..." he cleared his throat again. "I wish you well. Good luck with the baby. I... will do my best to ensure that you do not see me again.

He knew his feet must've carried him out of that home and back to his quarters in Understone Keep, but he didn't remember any of it.

"Commander?" one of his soldiers said.

Wordlessly, he sat down at his desk, scribbling a brief note before holding the parchment out to the side. "Have this delivered to the First Emissary."

"Yes, Commander," she replied, taking the note and leaving.

So it is done then, he thought. He closed his eyes, marveling at how they did not weep, as if what he had done had destroyed some important mechanism within himself. As he witnessed his feelings trickling off like the slow death of a river in a season of drought, he could not help but think it was for the best. Better to not feel at all, than to live with such unbearable pain, he told himself. Better to bury himself in his work and try his best to forget.

But even as he thought such things, he knew he could never truly bring himself to wish he'd never met her - even to spare himself from feeling so wretched.

And so he allowed the smallest embers of hope to dwell in his breast, against his better judgement.

Were he a better mer, he'd have wished for her to find someone who could be kind to her gentle heart. She more than anyone on this plane deserved that. But the thought of another doing for her, for their child, what he could not was more than he could bear. He knew he had no say in the matter, knew it was the likely eventuality regardless of his feelings, but even so, he could not bring himself to wish for it.

Instead his selfish heart hoped that one day she might understand. That she could see why he made the decision he did. And why it was necessary. And that it broke him to do it.

And foolish though it was, as he prepared himself for this slow death - this life of living without the sun - he hoped that at the end of it, there would be light again, and they could be together once more.