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    Summary

    “Why do you love him so much?”

    The question lingered between them, trembling and terrible. The firelight threw her shadow across the floor, fractured and long, and the faint creak of the inn whispered like a warning in the silence.

    “Most men despise him. They fear him. They mock him behind closed doors. Some curse his very name.” She swallowed. “And yet you do not.”

    Valarr closed his eyes briefly. There were a thousand answers, and none that would ease her pain. When he opened them again, his gaze was steady.

    “Because I see him,” he said simply. Not the prince. Not the reputation. Not the whispers. “He has never been what they believe him to be.”

    --
    Or, in which Valarr is torn between duty and love, and Aerion is a lustful brat.

    Language:
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    Words:
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    Chapters:
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