Prologue

"I would never harm a woman, nor would I harm a child. I will not kill a man who has his back turned to me. I am a cruel man, my Raven. You know this. But you also know that I am not dishonorable."

The girl ran a hand through her short, purple hair. Her eyes were wide and the same color as her hair. "Rorek," she murmured. "I'm leaving. There's nothing to be done about that. You know I have to go." She shook her head and wiped away the tears that were falling lightly.

The man, Rorek, stroked her cheek. The motion made the girl close her eyes. She leaned into his touch, obviously finding comfort in it. His lips brushed against her forehead as his other hand rested on her hip.

"Any man can have my body," she said. "They see it as the spoils of war."

His hands fell from her body as he moved away. "What do you mean?"

He hadn't meant to sound harsh, not exactly. The blonde man simply refused to see his angel, his Raven with anyone else.

"I am the daughter of Arella, the Ruler of Azarath. I am a sorceress trained and mentored by Azar herself. When Azarath goes to war, I am the one to her into battle. If Azarath was to lose, I would be a prize. The men would own by body, but not my heart. They could destroy my spirit, but never attain my soul."

She stepped close to him and looked up at him. She had to stand on her toes to kiss him, but she thought it was worth it. "Only you, Rorek."

His fingers clutched her waist tightly, pulling her further into him.

"I can only ever love you."

He kissed her again then, and when he was done they simply stood there holding each other. They took comfort in each other's presence. Onlookers were jealous of the obvious bond between the two mages. They were envious of the unconditional love the mages had found. They were happy, though, for their princess who had found happiness where none was meant to be found. In their eyes, she deserved it.

"Do not doubt my love, as I do not doubt your honor."

Unshed tears flooded his eyes as he gazed down at his love. "I have never doubted you, my Raven. I will never do so."

"Thank you."

She laid her head on his chest and he kissed her hair. His left hand snaked into her hair and tangled itself in it. She wrapped her arms around his slender waist and nudged him backwards. He fell onto the couch and pulled her onto his lap. Had she been a cat, it was clear she would've been purring from contentment.

"I don't want to go," she whispered.

"You don't have to."

That was a lie. There was a war coming to Azarath, one that Raven could not fight in. She would be a liability in this battle, and liabilities were something the warriors of Azarath simply could not afford.

She smiled weakly at his words. "You're right. I don't have to go now, not tonight. Although, Arella says it will have to be soon. Soon I'll have to. I'm going to have to leave Azarath. I'm going to leave you."

"You are not leaving me." He said the words so reverently they sounded like a vow. They should've reassured her, but they were in no way helping her. She wasn't reassured by lies, and she had never been.

"I am."

His eyes were pleading. She may not want to be lied to but it was clear that he did.

So she amended her statement.

"I'm not leaving you. I will come back. I will come back to you, and from then on we will be together."