Xeron's feelings were about as confused as they had ever been. It
was only a day ago that he had considering himself as cruel and heartless
as, well, anyone else considered him. He had liked it that way. He hadn't
needed companionship, kindness, or love.
Yet, now he found himself collapsed in the arms of a Wood Elf. It was disgustingly pitiful, and yet he couldn't bring himself to stop. Had he struggled, sat up, moved away . . . he was sure she would not stop him. He didn't do any of these things. He didn't have the strength. He had used up all his strength hiding his emotions, hiding himself, from the woman whose arms he now occupied.
He didn't understand this feeling at all. He had simply never felt it. His father was ashamed of him, and beat him. His mother just ignored him. He had been a mistake, and one that was not repeated . . . for he had no siblings. There was nobody among his peers he had felt this way about . . . most of them hated him as much as he ended up hating them. This had been his entire world, up until less than twenty-four hours ago.
This was how he assumed the world was run, until she came along. This Wood Elf . . . this, "Linalia" . . . why had she come into his life and broken all the rules? People were not supposed to love each other, whether they were human, elf, or otherwise. So why did she seem to care so deeply about him? Why did she care about someone who, to her, was practically a stranger? Why hadn't she killed him? He didn't have the answer
Of course, an even more difficult question plagued him as well, and the answer was even farther from his grasp. Why hadn't he killed her? He had killed many of her kind in the past. He had done so without a moment's hesitation. What made her so special?
Xeron thought back to those first few moments. He pictured the sword at her neck . . . that soft, delicate, fragile neck. He pictured her expression . . . eyes clenched shut, ready to accept that death had come for her.
What had made him stop? He tried to pinpoint a reason, in his mind. Her beauty . . . that was one thing that stuck out in his mind. She was amazingly gorgeous; he had noticed that right from the start. Those amazing, emerald eyes . . . that perfect, golden, flowing hair which now surrounded him. Everything about her held a quality of softness, beauty, and innocence. No, she was not helpless . . . she had at first been a serious threat to his life. Despite all her power, though, there seemed to be that quality of innocence. It seemed an odd thing to pair one whose power could slaughter millions with something such as innocence.
Was that what he desired? Yes, desire . . . that was a strong part of it. What exact quality about her made her so desirable, he was unsure . . . perhaps it was a combination of all of them. Whatever it was, it had moved his heart in a way it had never been moved before.
Xeron made a decision, with that realization. He decided that he would not resist her any longer. Whatever she had in store for him, there was no way of escaping it, anyway. So why not embrace it? It seemed the only way of getting through this without fighting . . . and he was so tired of fighting.
Now, he realized, he had to voice this to Linalia. It would not be easy. He did not want to let his emotions all out at once in a flood of tears. He still had his pride. He needed to tell her, though, that now he was willing.
Rising from her grasp, he looked into her eyes. Choosing his words carefully, he spoke.
"You've . . . caught my interest, elf," he told her. "I don't know why you have this power over me, but I'm willing to admit it is there. What you do from here is up to you. I won't resist any more."
There . . . the words were said. For better or worse, he had started down this path, wherever it would lead him. There was no turning back now.
Yet, now he found himself collapsed in the arms of a Wood Elf. It was disgustingly pitiful, and yet he couldn't bring himself to stop. Had he struggled, sat up, moved away . . . he was sure she would not stop him. He didn't do any of these things. He didn't have the strength. He had used up all his strength hiding his emotions, hiding himself, from the woman whose arms he now occupied.
He didn't understand this feeling at all. He had simply never felt it. His father was ashamed of him, and beat him. His mother just ignored him. He had been a mistake, and one that was not repeated . . . for he had no siblings. There was nobody among his peers he had felt this way about . . . most of them hated him as much as he ended up hating them. This had been his entire world, up until less than twenty-four hours ago.
This was how he assumed the world was run, until she came along. This Wood Elf . . . this, "Linalia" . . . why had she come into his life and broken all the rules? People were not supposed to love each other, whether they were human, elf, or otherwise. So why did she seem to care so deeply about him? Why did she care about someone who, to her, was practically a stranger? Why hadn't she killed him? He didn't have the answer
Of course, an even more difficult question plagued him as well, and the answer was even farther from his grasp. Why hadn't he killed her? He had killed many of her kind in the past. He had done so without a moment's hesitation. What made her so special?
Xeron thought back to those first few moments. He pictured the sword at her neck . . . that soft, delicate, fragile neck. He pictured her expression . . . eyes clenched shut, ready to accept that death had come for her.
What had made him stop? He tried to pinpoint a reason, in his mind. Her beauty . . . that was one thing that stuck out in his mind. She was amazingly gorgeous; he had noticed that right from the start. Those amazing, emerald eyes . . . that perfect, golden, flowing hair which now surrounded him. Everything about her held a quality of softness, beauty, and innocence. No, she was not helpless . . . she had at first been a serious threat to his life. Despite all her power, though, there seemed to be that quality of innocence. It seemed an odd thing to pair one whose power could slaughter millions with something such as innocence.
Was that what he desired? Yes, desire . . . that was a strong part of it. What exact quality about her made her so desirable, he was unsure . . . perhaps it was a combination of all of them. Whatever it was, it had moved his heart in a way it had never been moved before.
Xeron made a decision, with that realization. He decided that he would not resist her any longer. Whatever she had in store for him, there was no way of escaping it, anyway. So why not embrace it? It seemed the only way of getting through this without fighting . . . and he was so tired of fighting.
Now, he realized, he had to voice this to Linalia. It would not be easy. He did not want to let his emotions all out at once in a flood of tears. He still had his pride. He needed to tell her, though, that now he was willing.
Rising from her grasp, he looked into her eyes. Choosing his words carefully, he spoke.
"You've . . . caught my interest, elf," he told her. "I don't know why you have this power over me, but I'm willing to admit it is there. What you do from here is up to you. I won't resist any more."
There . . . the words were said. For better or worse, he had started down this path, wherever it would lead him. There was no turning back now.
