Hey, readers!

This story strongly differs from its predecessors, in that the adventure and action you may have familiarized yourself with in the others are now highly toned-down. Drama/romance have been dialed up. If you don't care for angst, you probably won't care for this. ;)

Also, although the rating may bump up to M in the future, I've got this currently rated T for language and sexual content. And gore, maybe, depending on how it ends up. I tend to have about ten different endings planned when I start these sort of things.

Lastly, I've got a surprise coming in this story that you all may or may not like. I know that's cryptic, but bear with me here.

On that note and if you're still here, welcome. :)

Chapter 1: Shackled.
Setting: Final chapter of Reawakening.

"Nyela, you have a visitor."

The sea-blue-haired man remained anxiously silent as his twin pushed open the door of the woman in question's room, the aged hinges giving the slightest hint of complaint in the form of a high-pitched tune. Sarion's rich tone of voice had glinted with humor and joy, but the only thing Unaril felt as he caught sight of the woman he knew as the love of his life was apprehension.

The thing about Nyela was that her reaction to his return was unpredictable. He knew her well, he loved her, but he had no idea how she might respond to seeing her dead husband after thirty years.

Just yesterday, she had been his wife, his expecting wife. They'd been young and in love and teetering on the brink of losing everything, which only fed their passion for one another. The looming threat of him having to die to revive her little brother felt real. Unaril still had not, despite seeing Julian Silverpaw alive and well and decades older, fully allowed the weight of it all to sink in.

However, his version of yesterday was, for the rest of the world, thirty-some years prior to today.

"Nyela," Sarion beckoned again, and she cut him off.

"Yes yes, a visitor, and no name? How elusive." A partial, familiar laugh came that reminded Unaril of softened bells. "Tell Raphael to hold his damn horses." She pulled out a simple silver necklace. "Three decades and he still acts like his arrival ought to be heralded like royalty."

The playfulness in her tone brought a smile to Unaril's eyes. His eyes rested on her entirety; she wore a sleek gown, dyed the color of storm-clouds, which draped loosely over her soft curves. She was, indeed, softer than he knew her to be. Thirty years, including with them childbearing, had stolen her hard muscle and replaced it with gentle dips and swells, her hips now wider, rounder, and her arms smoother and fuller.

She had not yet turned from her dresser. Her magenta waves and curls trickled over her shoulders and down her back in an uneven 'V', wild as he knew them to be, and every part of him ached to trace his fingers through those curls again. Despite the pain he felt in having broken their bond, he still felt tethered to this woman in every way, and yet at the same time, a loud voice in his head kept him from acting due to the man standing beside him and the bond that man shared with Nyela.

Nyela had been with Sarion for thirty years now. They had matured, raised a family, whereas Unaril still felt like he'd barely lived at all. Compared to them, he really hadn't.

"It's not the Rogue," Sarion chuckled, stepping in further and beckoning Unaril to walk into the room with him.

"Can you clasp this for me?" she asked, holding the necklace up over her shoulder as she drew her long hair into a messy ball with one hand. The darker twin reached out and did as she asked, and then gently tugged her shoulder to turn her. "Nyela…"

She finally twirled toward him, her dress fluttering subtly at her ankles, and the smile on her face froze as her eyes fell on Unaril, who abruptly felt very out-of-place, like he shouldn't be here.

Her golden eyes locked on his, her smile slowly dousing itself. Her gaze followed his tattered clothing, the broken armor pieces, the same thing he'd worn the last time she ever saw him. Not a single word found its way from her mouth, and after a few seconds of absolute stunned silence, Unaril finally made the first move.

"Ah," he began tentatively. "Good morning," he forced the words out, and his voice sounded foreign to himself. He glanced at his brother, whose eyes twinkled, and then back to Nyela. A step toward her drew no reaction, and he let a typical, gentle smile finally fall into place. "So, long time no see, for you…yeah?" He reached up and brushed his blue hair from his face, back behind his long ears, but the shorter locks simply fell back aside his cheekbones.

Her mouth formed a few silent words, and her cheeks had paled significantly. She was seeing a ghost, and her response hadn't yet formed.

Sarion made a subtle jerk of his head for Unaril to advance forward, his features still holding a long-ingrained smile. Unaril approached her and tentatively reached out for her hand. She let him take it, and he did by looping one finger under three of hers and then running a thumb over her small knuckles. Her eyes fell on their hands, watching them in a form of odd fascination. She turned her wrist so their fingertips pressed together softly, and then let hers slip sideways and lock into his. Even the touch of her hand in his nursed his ailing heart.

He'd been smiling slightly all the while; it was his most natural state, and he watched as Nyela's shocked expression gradually altered into one of relief, her honey eyes projecting a streak of joy and her pink brows curving in astonishment.

"You're here," she finally blurted out, her voice cracking.

"I'm here," he nodded back to her. "I'm so sorry I left. I didn't mean to. I wish I'd—oof!"

She attacked him in a crushing hug that knocked his words right out of his mouth. The side of her face crushed into his chest, her arms squeezed his torso, and she molded to him. His arms curled around her as well; it was all he could do to remind himself that kissing her was off-limits, that as much as he wanted to tilt his head down and meet her, as much as he wanted to scoop her up and ravish her in adoration, he could not. She was no longer his. That was possibly the hardest realization of everything he'd gone through today.

Still, though, he let out an earnest chuckle and hugged her back happily. Her joyous energy, mingling with his as they hugged, rejuvenated him, made him feel for a sweet second as if nothing had changed. That they had not changed.

Eventually she pulled back just enough to place her hands on the sides of his face and crane up, kissing his scruffy cheek once before backing up a step. She nudged Sarion, who'd been observing the reunion with a warm smile, with her elbow.

"You see him too, right?" she half-joked, wiping tears that'd welled up and begun to trickle down her cheeks. The sight made Unaril's eyes sting as well, despite him having seen her what felt like yesterday. Perhaps it was for a different reason.

Sarion lifted his brows, then shrugged, leaning in mischievously to speak. "See whom?"

"Oh, you little-," she scrunched up her face and playfully punched his arm, and then grinned back up at Unaril, despite how watery her eyes looked. "I don't… I mean, you have no idea how long we've waited—hoped, prayed—for this. I just…" she glanced up at Sarion beside her. "The timing alone is crazy. Returning on the day of the twins' coming of age." A few seconds passed, and Nyela stared at him in wonder. "I wasn't even sure you would return," she said a whole lot quieter.

"It wasn't a coincidence," Unaril confessed. "The shard interacted with my last thoughts before...death. I'd wished to see our child - er, children - grown, and that wish was granted."

She seemed to sober a little further. "Oh."

Sarion looped an arm over Nyela's shoulder and gave her a kind squeeze, kissing her hair, and then reached out and patted his brother on the arm happily. "What a day to return. Just in time for our party." He offered a vivid grin. "When you come back from the dead, you sure come back in style. C'mon, let's get you into some better clothes." He beckoned his brother along with him, and Unaril followed reluctantly, wishing to see Nyela a little longer. But, he was wearing a tattered, bloodied shirt and ruined armor.

"You probably still wear my size," Sarion smiled as he took Unaril to another room and pulled open a dresser. "We are twins. If nothing else, mine may be too small. I've gotten a little soft over the past years."

"Which means we are more than likely identical in size," Unaril corrected with a laugh as his twin tossed him a white button-down shirt, long beige shorts, and underclothes. He removed his armor as he spoke. "You were always bulkier than me."

Sarion sent him a look of skepticism. "Nuh-uh."

The lighter twin gave a soulful chuckle. "Yes. Yes, you were. You just didn't realize it because you were preoccupied with brooding and angsting around everywhere."

He ducked as a pair of socks flew over his head.

"I don't brood," Sarion chuckled back.

"You're the broodiest person I know, and I can say that after having met Sebastian Strom," Unaril finally shucked all of his armor and pulled the clean shirt over his head. It smelled faintly of rosewood oil, way better than old, bloodstained leather.

"Oh yeah, Sebastian. Nearly forgot about that fellow." Sarion leaned against the dresser, half-sitting on it with one leg bent against the edge and one still propped on the ground. "Aw, you clean up okay, despite having been dead thirty years. What does that bring the total to? Thirty-three alive, and one hundred and thirty dead? You're totally losing whatever game it is you're playing." The man's laughter forced a smile to Unaril's face. Unaril's spirits lifted so much when he saw how happy his brother was.

"I wasn't dead, just...out of time."

"You were dead, bro. It counts. I am now the older brother." For effect, Sarion flexed his arms heroically.

"You look the part, too," Unaril motioned toward the silver streaks in the man's hair.

"These are cool. They tell an interesting story," Sarion retorted. "I'll have to tell you about it sometime."

"Yeah, sure," Unaril offered him a teasing sneer, chucking the pair of socks back. Sarion caught them and returned them to the dresser. Shoes really weren't their thing, save for leather boots.

Sarion stood, his own bare feet silent against the wood. Unaril had always been jealous of how silent Sarion's steps were, seeing as the knuckle of his own right-foot big toe always made a faint 'pop' every time he eased off a step, thanks to a wagon running over it when he was nine.

"This has all got to be pretty weird for you," the dark man said calmly, gaining seriousness, walking to face his twin and folding his arms thoughtfully. He tilted his head to the side. "Any way we can make it easier?"

Unaril thought a moment and then shook his head, letting out a heavy sigh. "I'm just glad to be home. Everything else in time. I think the most difficult will be..." He was about to say Nyela, and then stopped, apprehensively looking at Sarion. He licked his lower lip once and then spoke again. "Are the two of you married?" It sounded more accusing than he'd meant it to be, and he winced at his tone.

Sarion didn't seem to pick up on any negativity, though, and he nodded lightly. "Twenty-four years, nearly twenty-five."

Unaril forced his smile. They'd been together nearly as long as he'd technically been alive. So weird.

He recalled his last conversation with Sarion in Ephraim's vaults. He had told Sarion to take care of her. He'd given him his blessing. In a way, he was glad it'd been Sarion and that he'd taken his word, but in another, it hurt even stronger that now whenever he was to spend time with either of them, it would be strained for him. He wouldn't be able to enjoy it fully because he was in love with his brother's wife, and he felt like his own feelings were a crime. He'd have to watch himself, keep a constant filter... It was going to be hard to heal, and it would take him a long time.

Footsteps at the door sounded, and Unaril turned just in time to see his oldest friend. Lucian looked the same as ever, with a mane of snow, a full, defined beard cushioning his sharp jaw, and his typical dark shirt rolled at his elbows. The man loved to wear black. Some things never change.

"They told me you were back," Lucian grinned brightly, his eyes crinkling happily as he walked in swiftly.

Unaril chuckled back and met the giant's hug. "Can't keep me away, no matter how hard they try."

Lucian squeezed his massive arms tightly and then released his friend, giving him a joyful grin and mussing his hair like old times. "You've got a mess of people waiting to see you. Whole tribe, practically. And an entirely new generation for you to meet here, as well. Julian brought his litter, somehow got them all in one place, so never a dull moment today."

"Litter?" Unaril laughed. "Nice to hear he settled down." For good measure, he sent a playful jab into Lucian's ribs.

"Nine offspring," Sarion added in, laughing as Lucian and Unaril began to wrestle like second nature.

Unaril choked as Lucian caught him in a hold. "Nine? That's like three litters!"

He squirmed out of Lucian's arms and tried to reverse the roles as they scrapped for a moment, but then Lucian slid backward lithely into the doorway, standing up straight and smoothing his hair as if nothing had happened. He grinned as he swept out the door before he could be caught. Despite the man's size, he certainly moved like a Druid.

"Come along," the chieftain beckoned both of them after disappearing into the hall. "Time to see your boys all grown up."

It was unclear to whom he was really speaking.

The ceremony for the twins was simply a formality. It used to be, when the Silverpaw clan still consisted of only Druids, a ceremony in which they would be assigned their specializations. All Silverpaw Druids were first and foremost feral, but if one showed a promising strength in something different, he or she would be encouraged to pursue that as a specialty. Though it was called a 'coming-of-age,' it was rather a situation in which the Druid would be considered a fully-developed and well-rounded member of the tribe and given the resources and a boost of power to become the best of what they could be.

Now, though, seeing as Lucian ran things a little differently and this particular Silverpaw clan was more or less a conglomerate of different races with different backgrounds and classes, this 'ceremony' was more a celebration than anything else.

Basically, it was an excuse to have a massive party. And in the Silverpaw clan, nothing was done halfway. Unaril was nearly jealous of his own sons, of how much food their party had gotten in comparison to his and Sarion's. Which he realized, strangely enough, had only been a few years ago for him. Of course, this party was also for the rest of those born around the same time as Nyela's, so there were far more mouths to feed and people to celebrate, but...still.

Unaril had spent the past six hours catching up with old friends, participating in non-stop socialization, and eating and drinking. One would think that after the kind of day he'd had, having woken up this morning an amnesiac in the basement of a run-down mansion in a corner of a foreign city, he would be tired. But being home and around such positive energy from those he loved had kept him fully awake for hours.

Now, though, things had begun to dial down, and Unaril finally took a break from the excitement by stealing a stroll into the dark orchard, hands in his pockets. He enjoyed the peacefulness present here; last time he'd been around, this place had been a dead scar. Now, he walked among thriving fronds of vibrant flora, iridescent insects buzzing about and amphibian songs. It gave him a strong wave of nostalgia, from living in the Darkshore and Ashenvale forests.

As he delved further into the forest he came upon a tiny grassy clearing, only just big enough that in the center it allowed a faint light from the evening sky to trickle in through the thick foliage and shine a hazy golden beam onto the thick flowery grass forest floor.

He distanced himself from his thoughts and sat down with his back to one of the trees along the perimeter of the clearing, letting his legs stretch out through the plush grass toward the center and his head rest against the bark. His eyes fell shut, and he fell further into a natural state of peace as he listened to the forest sounds and the distant music and laughter from the tribe. The natural energy here was invigorating as it was tranquilizing.

Unaril was unsure of how long he'd spent sitting there dozing off, but his sensitive hearing caught the sound of footsteps nearby. He let his lids flick open, only to see that the clearing before him was now lit by soft moonlight, and everywhere around him the orchard had come to life in the form of luminescent plants and animals thriving and lighting up the forest. Something felt strange here, not quite real, as if it were a dream, or a vision. The world around him felt more vivid, and yet so fuzzy and warped. He wondered if he'd ingested hallucinogens; it felt the same.

He felt far too relaxed to stand, and so he simply held his focus on the soft, distant footsteps that drew nearer behind him. Something in the back of his mind already knew who it was, already recognized the sound of the footsteps and the subtle scent of her clothes on the air, but he didn't move a muscle.

Finally she appeared, walking into his field of vision, and he allowed the sight of her to steal his breath. He'd known she was coming, somehow, and yet she'd stunned him into silence simply through showing her face, which caught the faint blue moonlight like porcelain.

Nyela's eyes fell on his, the two pairs of gold meeting one another for one of the few fleeting times all day. She reached a hand down and took his, pulling him to stand up before her without speaking. Her arms slipped around his torso as she hugged him, her warmth and scent bringing him peace. Her shoulders quaked, and he realized she was crying. She wept against him, and after only a few seconds of their continued contact, he felt an odd spark in his chest, followed by an intense rush of emotions. Pain, heartbreak, everything he'd been feeling all day, now suddenly magnified. He clutched her tighter to himself then, so abruptly overwhelmed with it all that he too couldn't hold back the painful lump that formed in his throat and the stinging in his eyes.

This was so odd; he felt he had to be dreaming, simply because of the way he was reacting to everything and how she felt in his arms. At the same time, he'd never had a dream like this, had never felt one this real. Maybe he wasn't.

The emotions he felt, he somehow knew they were not just his. Something had reignited in their hug, something powerful, something he recognized but chose not to fully acknowledge. He had no idea how those bonding spells worked when it came to resurrection, because he'd never heard of it happening. But he knew one thing for sure: their combined feelings overpowered his mind, and he was, in this moment, completely a slave to those feelings. He knew now with their connection that she still truly did love him, as strongly as the day he'd left. He felt her pain mingle with his own, her love swirling into his.

Her hands slipped up over his shoulders; every sensation right now had become heightened, as well as simultaneously dulled and foggy. His thoughts became scattered, everything but the suffocating levels of adoration and pain between them whisking away. His hands worked without being told and slid to her hips to pull her flush against himself, and the next he knew, she curled her hands around the back of his neck and caught his lips in her own viciously.

The kiss was a force of its own, the bond between himself and the woman embracing him having become even stronger in their reunion than it'd been before, making up for all the years lost. She pressed him against the tree behind him, the two giving into their feelings without thought.

Finally he managed to force himself to take a breath. "Do you feel that?" he asked in a husky, broken tone, still unable to take his hands from her waist, their foreheads still touching as their heavy breaths mingled together.

She nodded back. "The spell," she breathed.

"The bond," he confirmed. "Was it you?"

"No, was it you?"

"Not this time," he allowed a hint of playfulness into his tone.

She caught his last word with an urgent kiss that shattered his resolve.

This was no dream. It couldn't be.

He gave in to her, his pulse accelerating as her hands moved to the buttons on his shirt. The second she touched his bare chest, a shudder ran down his spine, his thoughts becoming so hazy he couldn't tell the difference between reality and his own mind. He took her up into his arms and laid them both down into the soft grass, the two of them shrouded in the darkness of the forest, her beautiful face beneath his only barely visible thanks to the moonlight in the clearing and the glowing flowers in the trees.

His hands curled into hers as they both surrendered into one another, each giving no thought to the consequences or results of their choice.

They remained intertwined, and Unaril rested his face in the crook of her neck as the two regained their breath. He could feel the steady pulse under her hot skin against his lips and how it matched his own perfectly as a result of their connection.

A rumble escaped his chest as he rolled over onto his back in the grass, their physical contact now subdued enough to where he could think clearly. He glanced toward her, and blinked in surprise. She was no longer there; the grass where she'd been laying showed no signs of imprint, and he sat up abruptly.

"Nyela?" he called out in alarm.

No answer.

He called out again, but this time his voice sounded hazy to his ears, warped, underwater. A deeper voice warbled in his ears, incoherent words.

Suddenly his eyes startled open, and he found himself sitting where he'd dozed off under the trees. The clearing still held a gentle golden light that filtered through the canopy, and he had to blink a few times before confirming he'd been dreaming. It'd been a dream, everything with Nyela, everything that had just happened between them.

But it'd felt so real. He could remember every little tiny detail, the sights, sounds, smells, feelings, the touch of her skin on his own.

He heard the deeper voice from his earlier confusion sound out again.

"Unaril? You out here?"

It was his twin brother.

Unaril stood quickly and turned toward the voice. "Over here," he called reluctantly, shaking his head to rid it of his vivid memories of the dream. He felt like he'd just done something wrong, something awful to his brother, but on the other hand felt so strongly disappointed it hadn't actually happened.

Sarion appeared through the trees. "A-ha, thought you'd disappeared," the man said enthusiastically, waltzing straight up and throwing an arm over Unaril's shoulder. "Everything alright?"

"Uh, yeah," Unaril frowned a little at the ground. "D-dozed off, I guess."

"No doubt you're tired," Sarion said sympathetically as he caught his expression. "We don't have a lot of room here anymore with all the guests staying over, but we'll find you a bed one way or another."

"Thanks," Unaril nodded in appreciation. He kept feeling waves of unspeakable guilt, followed by relief. That dream had thrown him through a loop; he felt like the mere thought of it had betrayed his brother, yet at the same time, in the dream it was as if no one had existed but Nyela and himself. He supposed that was how dreams were, though. He needed to quit dwelling, to not let it affect him as much as it was.

As they walked back into the party, Unaril immediately locked eyes on Nyela's, and just as suddenly he yanked them away. She'd been laughing with a large group of other elves, and the smile in her eyes as she'd looked at him had been one of pure joy. He was glad to see her like that, compared to the tears present in the odd dream.

Sarion led him into the tree, and then stopped by the ramp as he caught sight of an old friend of both of theirs, a green-haired man called Legalith.

"Legalith," Sarion caught the guy before he disappeared, and Legalith paused and turned.

"Yeah, bud?"

"Do you know if we've got any free rooms?"

"Silverpaw says they're packed tonight," Legalith shook his head, then looked at Unaril for a few seconds. "Why, you need a place to sleep?"

Sarion nodded in Unaril's place. "If they're all full, that's fine. Nyela and I can give up ours for the time being, at least until we can find a proper room once they clear out."

Legalith sent them both a happy nod and took off out the door.

"Where will you stay?" Unaril prodded. "I can just as easily shift and sleep in the forest, you know."

"I'll just tell the twins to lend me one of their cots; they've got to room together tonight anyway, and they won't mind me. I probably won't sleep much tonight, as it is." He patted Unaril on the back heartily. "Nyela can stay with Sephira if she'd like."

The twins. Sephira. Sarion and Nyela's children. Unaril nodded and let Sarion lead him up to his room. The giant tree was for the most part empty and quiet; everyone else was outside, downstairs, and Unaril knew he'd be out by the time his head hit the pillow. A good night's sleep might be what he needed to process all of this properly. Well, as long as said sleep did not involve some sort of super-emotional sex dream, that is.

Sarion dropped him off at the room and disappeared back down the ramp, and Unaril closed the door, turning to face the room.

He didn't realize how long he stared at the room in silence, the faint lighting from glowing lamps on the end tables casting shadows onto the floor. Finally his feet carried him to the bed, and he sat down onto it, resting his elbows onto his knees and letting his head hang into his hands. He released a weighted sigh, his tense shoulders aching. It'd been a long, weird day.

His thoughts delved deeper and deeper, his mind running wild despite his body crying out for sleep. The light of the setting sun in the archway near the balcony faded until it was no more; the ambiance of the room changed from a warm glow to true nighttime, with lunar lanterns being the only sources of visibility other than his own eyes.

He finally laughed at himself. Earlier he'd called Sarion the broody one, but now he was rivaling that title.

A single knock at his door and the turning of the handle caused him to lift his head, though, and before he could steel himself, Nyela eased into the doorway and closed it behind herself. Unaril felt a strong wave of déjà vu hit him. If this had been in, say, the forest, he might think he was dreaming again. Maybe he still was. Maybe he'd fallen asleep on the bed and this was his mind torturing him again.

"Sarion said you'd be sleeping here. You've been distant," her voice somehow sent an electric, hot pulse through his veins, despite her genuinely kind tone. "From everyone, really."

He inhaled a single, quiet breath. "In my defense, you Silverpaws certainly host one hell of a party. Even I needed a break," Unaril smiled up at her, finally coaxing his legs to bring him to an upright position. They felt stiff.

Nyela held a half-filled glass between two fingers, and she lifted it to her lips and sipped the bubbly liquid lightly as she watched him with an unreadable stare. Afterward she offered him a partial smirk.

"I haven't been able to keep you in my sight for more than seconds at a time," she prodded. "Surely you aren't avoiding me, are you?" Her tone was light, playful, but he could feel the weight behind her words. One thing he admired her for was that if there was something to be said, she'd say it.

"If I that were the case, could you blame me?" straight to the point, he folded his hands behind his back.

"So, why?" she took a harmless step toward him and another sip of her alcohol, which he noticed after a moment had taken its hold in her movements. She seemed overly-relaxed, but only just barely so, nearly too little to catch.

He allowed a soft chuckle to ease the moment. "It hurts. I have no idea how to talk, or...what to say. I'm lost."

Her tone switched to imploring, and she stepped in and brought her hand up to grace the side of his cheek. The contact made his chest constrict. "But you're home, now, Unaril. And we all love you. So much. You don't have to be anything or say anything special, just be."

"I meant I don't know what to do about you," he flexed his hands at his sides, his fingers itching to reach for her. "You, Nyela. Yesterday, you were my wife. Do you understand how that might put me in a tough position? Why it might be...difficult for me to act 'normally'? My normal, right now," he waited a second, letting his eyes fall shut as he released a subtle breath, "would be to pull you in and kiss you, to start right back up where we left off. But that was thirty years ago. So, yes. I have been avoiding you, reasonably and selfishly."

She finally removed her hand from his cheek, letting it fall guiltily. He gritted his claws into his palms to keep himself grounded, lest he do something stupid, something that would be deserving of the guilt that lingered from his nap. Part of him reveled in the pain he dealt to himself then; he nearly felt he deserved it, too, simply for wanting what he wanted.

She gave him an understanding look, and then glanced to the side. "I'm...sorry."

"Whatever for?"

She inhaled faintly, as if that question had triggered some sort of defensive response. "For what happened to you. For what happened between us, for you losing your entire life and then being expected to start new. It's unfair. I know I probably shouldn't have gone back to Sarion; I should have waited for you," she'd begun to speak a little faster, barely taking a breath and not allowing for his input yet. "I should have waited, because I see you now and it's as if not one day has passed, and my heart still belongs to you. But I love him too, Unaril, more than life, and I'm just so sorry that everything has turned out the way that it has and I can't do anything about it."

The woman finally took a breath, and Unaril stared at her, frozen. A few painfully silent seconds dragged by, and he finally cleared his throat to speak.

"Nyela," he finally said her name, but nothing more. He didn't know what else to say.

She took that as a window to go on another slightly-intoxicated rant.

"And I also want to say that as indescribably happy I am to see you, it hurts like a goddamn bitch." Her drink made way for crude language, but her feelings were clear. "You are the love of my life, but by some curse of fate you're not the only one, and knowing that loving one of you hurts the other is fucking torture. I've been waiting for this day to come for a long time, but part of me denied that it ever would. So now you're here, and you're so clearly in pain, and it's all a mess. My mess. I have no way to fix it, because I've been living in a little 'denial' bubble up until now, pretending that if I ignored the inevitable issue, it'd never happen."

"Nyela," he finally allowed a flustered laugh, and he noticed a slight tremor in his own arms, a vibration in his muscles that fought against his restraint. "Please don't beat yourself up on my account. Seeing you do that to yourself is ten thousand times worse than anything else I've handled today."

"I don't know what to do," she let out a heavy breath and set her drink on the ground beside them, where it tipped and spilled the remaining contents onto the wood floor. She didn't notice.

"There's nothing you can do," Unaril replied gently as he bent down and picked up the glass, walking to put it on the table instead and tossing a stained rag onto the spilled liquid. "You've done nothing wrong. This is not your responsibility. I'm glad you two were there for each other. It would've been unfair to expect you to wait for me, especially not this long. It's just hard for me to...transition. I will be fine."

"I hurt you," she said in a quieter tone, her brows slightly pinching together.

"No. Ephraim hurt us," he coaxed. "And I am sorry for what that must have put you through, when our connection broke. That can't have been easy for you." He didn't mention the fact that he too felt it broken now, felt the raw, gaping chasm left in his loss.

Her eyes pooled, reflecting the lamplight as well as the golden light that shone from them. "I still feel that."

His brows curved upward, and he released a half-breath of sympathy, his tone genuine and quiet. "I'm so sorry."

"Me, too." A tear streaked down her cheek, and to his partial dismay, she brought herself in and hugged him amorously, her embrace like a deceivingly-soft tide threatening to drag him under and drown him.

Now, it was time for Unaril to become nervous. Here they were, emotional and vulnerable together in a dark, cozy room instead of just plain forest. He knew this time it was no dream; this was real, and he needed to make the right choice, not the one he needed, but the one she did. He could tell by the way she was hugging him, this was not just a simple hug of sympathy. It was an embrace of love, a wanton grasping gesture that he couldn't help but reciprocate. He finally released his clutched fists and drew his arms around her, letting her cry against him. This was all too familiar, like he was replaying his own fantasy.

"Sweetheart," he finally coaxed his own voice to be heard. He caressed his hands on the sides of her face, clearing her tears as she released the hug. "I will be alright. I promise you, I will. Now, I want you to go enjoy your time downstairs, with Sarion and your family. Tomorrow we will all wake up, and it will be a new day. A new start. Everything will be fine."

"A new start," she repeated him, her cheeks glistening. He offered her a pained smile and nodded, gritting his teeth at the emotions brimming inside him right now.

"Go be with Sarion," Unaril coaxed despite himself. "It is what we need."

Her intelligent stare held his through her tears, eyes flicking between his as she studied him. He knew she could see his pain, and he also knew she saw right through what he was saying. She knew why he was saying what he was.

"Fine," she nodded softly, her beautiful features gaining a slight hint of that calculating strength he loved. "A new start tomorrow. Meaning I can do this."

His lips parted just in time for hers to meet them, and he felt his breath stop in its tracks when she looped her arms up around him, craning on her toes and deepening the kiss.

"Nyela," he broke away, and shook his head reluctantly. "I can't."

He could see blood roiling to her cheeks, and saw as she bit the inside of her lips, nodding silently. She was ashamed, and his heart tugged at the look in her eyes. He saw her move a hint to the side, a means of escape, but he reached out, placing one hand on the side of her face.

"Wait," he caught her, and she froze.

Unaril drew in close to her, gracing a finger under her chin. The silence in the room was deafening; he could practically hear her heart beating as his eyes latched onto hers. She searched his, studying, curious, restrained.

Wordlessly, he craned his head down and gently pressed his mouth to hers, eyes falling shut. He sensed her fingers looping into his belt and pulling him snug, her hands winding around him and clinging. Her actions were desperate, almost frantic; he could feel the longing in her kiss. She wasn't about to let go, despite how reserved he'd been in everything up until now, keeping his affection just a fraction away from chaste.

But, when her teeth caught his lower lip, Unaril hesitated only a second before every tether holding his restraint snapped.

He vaguely noticed his own arms curling around her and clutching her tightly against himself, his hands then winding into her hair and clinging to her. Her kiss became so packed with fire, the opposite of what he had anticipated, and it blindsided him.

Rather than winding down, their affection intensified to the point of where a breathy sound of pleading escaped her throat, and he scooped her up in his arms, stumbling his big feet backward a few hard steps until his legs hit the bed and buckled. The two fell together into the blankets, and he drowned himself in her affection, letting her smother him entirely as his back sank into the covers.

Nyela's hands worked at the buttons on his shirt, her claws occasionally catching his skin as she pulled at each one, and her warm, small fingertips sent tingles and goosebumps up his chest and along his arms, trickling through every nerve, causing heat to flood to his extremities.

Finally, though, his mind caught up with the rest of him, and he pulled reluctantly from the kiss just as his shirt was tossed to the floor.

"I don't think that what comes next in this equation is allowed," he reasoned with her in a hushed, quickened breath.

"Do you want to stop?" she asked in a sincere, quiet question, pausing, though at the same time, the way she had innocently shifted herself above him sent a strangled hitch into his throat. He released a shudder, falling back into the blankets and putting one arm over his eyes in an attempt to see reason instead of seeing the woman he loved offering herself to him.

"You know the answer to that," he replied huskily and with a chuckle, before biting the inside of his cheek. "But we've gone too far already. We can't do this. You know we can't, Love."

Beside that, he thought to himself, she'd had a decent amount to drink. He finally pulled his arm from his face to look at her. She had her head tilted to the side and was watching him softly. Finally she slid off of him, granting him at least some clarity of mind.

"Forgive me," she leaned down over him and gently kissed him, and he wrapped his hand at the back of her head to prolong this as much as he could. When they parted, she stood from the bed, and he watched her as she smoothed her dress out and straightened the straps. Their eyes met, and he offered her an apologetic, painful smile, which she returned.

"I love you, always and no matter what; you know that, right?" she said as she watched him.

He bit the inside of his cheek and nodded. "Always, Nyela."

With that, she left the room silently.

Unaril fell back into the blankets and drifted into a restless sleep.