Believe me, I 100% know that I'm a terrible person, for this story and for so many other things... My subconscious just looooves to torment me with sad things, but the rest of me willingly shares this pain with the world. My bad! (Not my best work, and I'm definitely not fully satisfied with it, but here it is!)

The young builder tossed and turned in a restless, terror filled sleep, the stillness of the night broken only by her choked breaths and quiet cries of distress. Finally, Sara jerked awake with a gasp, sitting up fully in her bed. Shaking hands wiped at the tears running down her cheeks.

It was the nightmare again.

It was always the same nightmare.

The same memory.

A quick look ensured that Malroth still slept peacefully in his bed and, with her breath stuttering in her chest, she eased herself out of her own, walking quietly to the door and slipping outside.

Deep breaths, dear. She could almost hear her mother's voice whispering in her ear. Deep breaths in and out, let all your worries flow out of you to scatter in the wind. She stood staring at the stars for several minutes, breathing in the cool desert air of Khrumbul Dun as the tremors in her body slowed, until the breeze hitting her sweat soaked body caused her to shiver violently.

The idea of a warm shower hit her suddenly. She hadn't really had a chance to use the newly erected bathhouse since she put the last brick in place, but the idea of clean water and real soap to wash off the remnants of her dream felt so soothing. With that thought in mind, she crept carefully back into the small house that she and Malroth shared, gathering towels and fresh clothes from the small chest as silently as she could. She cast one look back at Malroth as she shut the door behind her, wincing at the loud creak of the hinges (she'd have to fix that later), before setting off down the path to the bathhouse.

Sara could see the silhouette of a Ghost and Mean Spirit following her just outside of the well-lit path, and she was very grateful that Malroth, much as he may like a fight, had suggested that she make enough torches and sconces to make it safe to walk at night. She didn't think she could manage a fight right now, though habit and a small voice in her head (that sounded suspiciously like her destructive best friend) berated her not to forget to bring her sword. She smiled slightly at the memory of Malroth rushing to her rescue one night on Furrowfield when she forgot her weapon on a trip to the privy. The strong hug the man had pulled her into after the Ghost had been sent running was completely worth the scolding that followed. She blushed slightly at the memory of his arms around her, the first, but certainly not the last, time that he had ever initiated such contact with her. At the time, he'd almost seemed confused, as if his body acted without telling him, but over time he seemed to become almost fixated with keeping in constant contact with her, holding onto her wrist whenever he wanted to show her something, throwing an arm around her shoulders with a big grin anytime they finished a fight, or keeping arm around her waist after having one to many digger's jiggers with Dougie and Digby.

Shaking her head to rid herself of the heat in her cheeks, she finally reached the bathhouse and opened the sliding glass door. Making her way over to the shower stall farthest from the door, she hung her clothes and towels on the hooks and turned the water on to warm up. Steam slowly filled the stall and Sara let out a sigh as she hesitantly undressed, keeping her eyes steadily forward as her shaky fingers fumbled with the ties and buttons of her nightgown. Slowly, the high-necked dress fell away to reveal scarred and burned skin underneath.

BUILDER

Over and over again the word was branded across her flesh, the skin in between covered in thin white lines, remnants of a sharp blade, while her back held a pattern of raised white scars left from repeated whippings.

Sara took a deep breath and plunged into the scalding water, letting the heat soothe her tense shoulders and back. She sighed as the water cascaded down her body, hoping that the water would cleanse her of both the sweat of her body and the fears of her mind, but as soon as she closed her eyes… she could hear the screams again. Her own or her family's, she couldn't tell anymore. The warm water dripping down her back became her own blood, weeping through the gashes in her skin.

Whimpering, eyes shut tightly, Sara slid down the tiled wall of the shower and curled into a ball on the floor, water still pounding down around her, as the memories took over again.

It was the creaking of the door that woke Malroth from an uneasy sleep. Sleep was never truly restful for him, a dark voice echoing in the back of his head keeping him always on edge. He lay there several minutes, the feeling that something wasn't right making the back of his neck itch even through the grogginess that came in the place between sleeping and awake. Finally, the absolute silence of the room filtered through to his hazy mind and his ears perked up, straining to hear the Builder's usual soft snores.

Nothing.

Malroth sat up straight, throwing his blankets off as he rushed over to Sara's bed, only to find it empty.

"Sara?" He called out quietly, glancing around the room carefully as he tried to stay calm. There was always an immediate tension wherever she was out of his sight, a fear that slithered its way down his spine. He stepped outside, looking around almost desperately. "Sara?!"

A slight noise from across the small town caught his attention. His ears perked up, eyes closing in concentration as he tried to make out the sound. Was that… running water? His brow furrowed in slight annoyance. Did she really get up in the middle of the night and nearly give him a heart attack… to shower?! Growling slightly, Malroth marched his way over to the bathhouse, nearly ripping the door out in his haste to open it, and made his way down to the stall that had steam pouring from it.

"What the hell, Sara?" He snapped as he neared the shower. "Do you know how worried I w-" His words stopped short at the sight of his friend curled up naked in the bottom of the stall.

Sara's head snapped up in horror.

"M-Malroth?!" She nearly screeched, hurriedly covering her chest with one arm and swiping at her cheeks with the other, curling tighter into a ball to cover herself as much as she could. Heat filled her face and flowed down her chest. "Turn a-around!"

Malroth whipped around like a bolt, face flaming, and covered his eyes with one hand. "S-sorry! I am so sorry!"

"Just… can you toss me my towel?" She stood slowly, keeping a careful eye on her friend. She could practically feel her heart jumping out of her chest, blood continuing to rush hotly through her face. "What were you thinking?!"

"I don't know!" He cried irritably, throwing her towel blindly over his shoulder. "I just woke up and you weren't there! What were you doing?! Did you want to give me a heart attack?" A scent caught his nose, even through the steam and heat. Salt. He turned around instinctively, shocked and angry. "Have you been crying?!"

Sara gripped the towel wrapped around her even closer to herself. "Malroth! Turn back around! What are you doing?!" Wide eyes stared at him as he stomped closer to her, making her stumble back until she ran into the wall. A small squeak escaped her when his arms shot out and trapped her against the tile, caging her in as he leaned close enough that their noses touched.

Malroth stared hard into her eyes, taking in their red and bloodshot appearance, and his own narrowed angrily. "You have been crying!" His voice lowered to a dangerous pitch. "Who made you cry?!" The red aura that usually surrounded him during a fight with monsters flared up slightly, and his hands turned to grip her shoulders tightly. "Who was it?! I'll rip them apart!"

Sara gasped as the aura flared brighter as he pulled back and began marching toward the door. Forgetting herself entirely and concerned what he planned to do, she rushed forward and used all her strength to yank him back around, quickly cupping his face between her hands. "Malroth! Calm down!" She pulled his forehead down to rest on hers, keeping her eyes locked on his. "Come on, breathe with me. In… out… In… out…" With each calming breath the aura around him dimmed, leaving him somewhat more composed as his hands reached up to grip her wrists.

"Who made you cry, Sara?" He growled quietly, sending a warm shiver down her spine that she didn't want to look too deeply into.

"It was no one, Mal. Just a nightmare. Really!" She insisted at his disbelieving look. "Just a bad dream that pops up every now and then, I promise!"

Malroth stared intently at her for several moments before nodding and stepping back, letting his hands drop back to his sides and keeping his eyes carefully on her face. "Okay. But if anyone ever does say something to upset you, make sure that you tell me so I can knock their head in!" He said with a devilish smirk.

Sara rolled her eyes at him, trying to keep from grinning. "Okay, Mal, I prom-" A slight breeze wandered through the room, sending goosebumps down her arms. Her eyes widened in horror. With a high-pitched squeal she turned around and dashed back to the towel she had dropped in her haste to stop Malroth.

She'd almost gotten to the abandoned cloth when she heard a choked growl from behind. Before she could even blink, two strong, calloused hands clamped down on her shoulders and held her in place.

"Malroth, what-?" She squirmed as she tried pulling away, gasping as his grip only tightened. "Malroth, that's enough! Let me get my clothes!"

One hand finally released her shoulder, drifting slowly, hesitantly down her back, while an enraged growl rumbled deep in his chest. Her eyes widened in horror when she felt his fingers gingerly trace one of the scars on her back, finally realizing what had caught his attention.

No no no no! She tried pulling away from his hands desperately, her only thought to hide the disgusting marks, especially from him.

The hand that had touched the scars on her back grasped onto her bare waist as she struggled, holding her firmly in place until she finally gave up on running away. She stood still, giving up all fight, tears welling up in her eyes again, as his hands gently pulled her around to face him. Her head hung low in shame and embarrassment; eyes squeezed shut so she didn't have to see his face. She didn't know what she would find there. Sara could almost feel where his eyes burned a path over her skin, his glaring eyes taking in every scar and burn on her flesh.

"What happened to you, Sara?" He finally managed to choke out.

Twin tears carved paths down her cheeks as she finally opened her eyes to look at Malroth. She could see him fighting down his fury to make sure that he wouldn't accidently hurt her, his hands shaking with the effort, though she trusted him with more than her life at this point. Remembering everything that they'd been through together in the last several months sent a burst of warmth through her chest, as did the pure concern radiating from him. She slumped forward into his chest with a strained breath, his arms automatically adjusting to hold her tightly to him. She could trust him with this too.

"It was the Children of Hargon. Before we met." Her arms snaked around his waist and she felt him shiver as her bare skin brushed his, causing her to blush once more. Embarrassment and heartache warred within her. The bare contact with the man she was very quickly falling in love with was awakening feelings in her that she was very sure neither one of them were ready for… but the comfort she felt in his arms was chasing away the cold terror that had her ensnared in its claws. Finally, she pulled away with a small, watery smile. His arms reluctantly fell back to his sides.

"I'm cold. Let me get dressed and we'll go home. I'll tell you about it then."

"It was about… two weeks before I met you, I think." Sara began, snuggling deeper into soft blanket cocooned around her. She had pulled him over to her bed as soon as they walked in the door, grabbing an extra blanket on the way, and made herself comfortable against the wall, laying on her side to face him as he sat cross-legged on the other side. "With everything that happened… I couldn't keep track of the days where I was kept. But I remember the day they came."

Malroth watched as a shiver wracked her body and scooted closer to her, stretching his foot out and settling it against her stomach in a feeble attempt at comfort. She smiled slightly and curled up tighter, trapping his foot against her. Her eyes grew distant as she got lost in the memories she shared with him.

"My papa and I were fixing the tiles on our roof that day. There had been a bad storm the night before and a branch from the large tree beside our house had fallen, damaging the roof and destroying the small garden that my little sister, Lizzie, had grown." She paused and took a deep, fortifying breath. "Mama was just calling us down for lunch when we saw the smoke coming from town. We hadn't had any problems in years, no bandits, no monsters, and Hargon had been defeated by the scions of Erdrick, so imagine our surprise when we rushed into town to find the banners of the Children of Hargon being carried by a small troop of monsters destroying everything in sight. My father and I were among the first to take up arms, my father being simultaneously the village's blacksmith and interim captain of the guard, while my mother and sister worked to get everyone to safety. One of their leaders must have been watching, because when the fighting was finally over… they took my family to use as an example.

"The cell they put me in was pitch black, no windows or bars to let in even a hint of sunlight. The only time there was anything but darkness was when the skeleton guard came in with food and whatever he decided to beat me with that day. I can still see his face in my mind. I've seen a lot of skeletons since then, looked specifically for him, but none of them had the markings this one did. He had two scratches going straight down over his eye sockets, like they were done on purpose, a long, jagged scratch going across his forehead, and a crack in his jawbone, on the right side." Malroth quickly burned the description in his mind so he could start looking for the monster who hurt her. "It went on for… it felt like lifetimes. It was a never-ending cycle of pain, hunger, and darkness.

"In the blackness between the beatings, I could hear my mother and sister crying and my father beating heavily at an anvil, our captors yelling something about his creation being used for his own destruction. I didn't realize what was happening until later."

Sara fell silent, breath quickening, as tears began running down her face again. Malroth pulled his foot away from her, causing her eyes to fly open as she gasped, but she had no time to feel hurt before he was lying down beside her and pulling her tightly to his chest, rolling them over so that she was lying on top of him. His arms wrapped around her back like a vice, making her feel warm and protected as she curled up on his chest. She hid her face in his neck as the tears slowed and her breathing evened out, hesitating only a moment more before continuing, her voice dull and small, as if she were trying to force out any emotion.

"Eventually, I was pulled out of my cell and taken to the small church in town. They had gathered any survivors around the church, spectators to whatever they had planned for us. My family was already there, kneeling in front of the statue of the goddess and surrounded by monsters, but the guard dragged me over to the other side of the alter, where a set of shackles was waiting. They secured me to the wall with my back to the alter, ripped my shirt off, and whipped me until my legs gave out." A chill ran down Malroth's spine at how flatly she said this, all emotion stripped from her voice, and he held her just a little bit tighter. "I forget how long it took, I only remember hearing my family screaming for me and biting down on the wooden beam in front of me to keep from screaming myself. I must have blacked out for a minute, because the next thing I knew… I was facing my family so I could see the look of horror on my father's face as a red-hot blade was brought down on my skin. They had forced him to make the knife and brand that they used on me, to reinforce their doctrine that creation only brought suffering, I guess. I couldn't control the screams then. Any time I opened my eyes, I could see my papa fighting to get to me. Mama had pulled Lizzie to her, covering her ears and eyes to try and keep her from seeing it all."

Malroth's hands began rubbing soothing circles on her back, nuzzling the side of his face in her hair. He could feel his anger growing with every word that she spoke and promised himself that the next monsters that dared come near her would feel the same pain that she had been forced through. At the same time, there was a deep feeling of coldness, wrongness, in his chest that told him that he had failed her. That he should have been there to protect her. He held her even closer as he silently promised her that he would never let her be hurt ever again.

"It finally stopped when all I could do was hang limply from the shackles. I couldn't even feel the pain anymore, not really, couldn't hear, could hardly see. It was like I barely existed. I watched though a haze as they handed my father a wooden mallet and pointed at the statue of the goddess, telling him to destroy it. I could feel him looking at me as he raised the mallet, looking that the pain they had caused me with the tools that he had made." She pulled back slightly so she could look Malroth in the eye. "I don't know how I managed it, but I pulled together enough strength to shake my head at him, told him not to do it. It wasn't his fault, it wasn't the tools, it wasn't the goddess, it was them! They did it to me!" She took a shuddering breath, hiding her face in his neck again. "But… when he stopped… when he threw the hammer down at their feet… They killed them, Malroth. They killed them! My mother, sister, father, they killed all of them! Because of me!" Tears dripped down his neck as she buried herself closer to him, her hands gripping him hard enough that her nails left crescent shapes in his skin. "If I hadn't told him not to, maybe they would have just let them go! Maybe they would still be alive! It's all my fault!"

Malroth simply held her as she sobbed against him, her entire body shaking in her hysteria, with anger and sadness fighting within him. When her tremors finally started fading, he yanked her roughly up until her face hovered over his, ignoring the tears that fell on his face, and held her face tightly in his hands.

"You listen, and listen good, Sara. What happened was not your fault!"

"But, Malr-" His hand clamped down over her mouth.

"No buts!" He growled lowly. "What happened to you and your family was nobody's fault except that bastard Hargon and his insane followers! Not yours… never yours! With everything that they did to you, do you think they would have just let you walk away? No! Do you think that your family would want you to be thinking like that? No!" He paused to wipe the tears from her cheeks, more gently then she would ever have expected from him, and she felt a weight fall from her shoulders as the truth of his words filtered through her mind. "And I swear that no matter what, while I'm around, nothing like that will ever happen again. I swear I'll kill the bastards that hurt you like that!" As he spoke, the red fire in his eyes flared back up, marking the fierceness of his vow.

Sara let her head fall gently, leaning her forehead against his as she breathed deeply. Her nose caught on to the scent that was uniquely Malroth, lemon and smoke, and it calmed her immensely. She felt Malroth's fingers begin running through her hair soothingly and sighed, their breaths mingling between them.

"Thank you, Malroth."

It was silent for a few moments before Malroth spoke hesitantly. "You know… I feel like I would have liked your pops."

Sara's eyes flew open and she pulled back slightly to look at him. He had a contemplative look on his face, but a wicked smirk was tugging at his lips. She raised a brow at him, silently questioning him.

"Well, he sounds like he was a really strong guy, I can respect that. Sticking to his beliefs even to the end, but also sticking to Hargon at the same time? Wanting to protect you no matter what? I feel like he would have been great to fight with. What was his name?"

"Gerard…"

"Gerard, huh?" He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Magrog has been telling me that any good weapon has a name. I'm going to name my axe after him, so he can help me protect you!"

Sara could only stare at him in silent awe as a bright smile grew on his face, the smile that he reserved just for her, where his fangs showed and his eyes scrunched up. How could he be so cluelessly sweet? Apparently, she was too quiet for too long. The smile fell from his face and he immediately began stammering apologies.

"S-Sara, I'm sorry if I overstepped or hurt you, I never meant-"

She did the only logical thing that she could think of at the moment, grabbing his face between her hands and covering his mouth with her own. She felt him freeze underneath her for a single moment before his entire body seemed to melt as she moved her lips gently over his, one hand staying on his cheek and the other sliding back to trace the tip of his pointed ear. His hands reached up to grip her hips, fingertips digging slightly into her skin, while his lips began to move hesitantly against hers, following her lead in this as with everything else. When Sara finally pulled away, both were panting heavily, their faces nearly glowing red with blushes.

"Thank you, Malroth!" Sara whispered, laying kisses on his cheeks, eyes, nose, and forehead. "You have no idea how much that would mean to me!" Before placing a last chaste kiss on his lips and burying her red face back in his chest.

Malroth lay stunned for a time, his heart slowing, before he was finally able to ask the question that was bouncing around in his head. "Sara, what was that?"

Sara let out a sigh as she propped her chin up on his chest so she could look him in the eye. She could see the confusion floating there, as well as a slight hint of desire that he surely didn't understand yet, and… there was a warmth there that gave her hope for the future, after they'd both had some time to grow a bit.

It was with a small, hopeful smile that Sara answered. "Remember back in town square when you asked me to give you a bit of love if I ever found any?" He nodded confusedly. "Well, I found a lot… you actually created a lot, and I just shared a bit of it with you." Her smile grew a bit softer. "I love you, Malroth, I really do." Malroth tried to say something but was stopped by her hand. "I know that you don't feel the same, that you don't even really know what it means, and that's okay. I'll wait for you, no matter how long it takes, and I'll help you whenever you need me to, but it's something that you're going to have to learn on your own."

Malroth nodded slowly and pulled her hand away from his mouth. "Will you… will you tell me about your family? The happy stories?"

Sara smiled softly, rolling carefully off him and pulling the blanket over them. Laying her head on his shoulder, she began telling her story.

"My father's name was Gerard and my mother's name was Beatrice. They were the best parents any girl could ask for…"