I remember the day that I first met her family. After meeting at our rendezvous spot, she let me follow her to a small cottage. "It's cute," I said.

"Yeah," she said, "But not as cute as you."

"I think it should go without saying that it's not as cute as you," I responded.

"It should, maybe," Desdemona said, "But I still love hearing you say it." Desdemona knocked on the door. Out came her mother. She looked a lot like Desdemona, except that her demeanor was entirely different. Her hair and skin were slightly darker as well.

"You brought a human with you, Desi," the mother said.

"I realize that you don't think beorc can be good, mother," Desdemona said, "But this one's different."

"Sure he is," the mother said. I felt so unnerved by her haunting presence and hateful stare that my body wasn't even reacting to Desdemona anymore. I felt cold and vulnerable.

"Honey, why can't you find a nice laguz boy?" the mother asked.

No, I thought, anything but that…

"It's my life, mother, not yours!" Desdemona shouted, "And I'm telling you Zihark's different! He's the most different person I've ever met! He's a studious mercenary with a very keen eye!"

"You believe what he tells you, Desdemona?" the mother asked.

"He brought me the herb I love!" she shouted. "He found it himself, and he told me it was of terrible quality compared to my beauty!"

"Oh," the mother said, "I see… he's one of those then."

"One of whom?" I asked suspiciously.

"Desi, can I speak to your 'boyfriend' in private?" the mother asked.

"I suppose," Desdemona said, "But you're going to have to promise me not to kill him. If you can't keep that promise I will never speak to you again."

"He will be alive when you get back, and not missing," the mother said, "You have my word on that."

"Fine," Desdemona said, excusing herself. But I knew that she would be eavesdropping on us the entire time; if she didn't trust her mother not to kill me, then she couldn't possibly have trusted us alone.

"I know what you want, you gross lecher," the mother said. "You plan to take advantage of my daughter and then abandon her."

"I would never even dream of abandoning Desdemona, and if 'take advantage of' her means what I think it does, I would let her decide the time and place," I said.

"So you are interested in her sexually?" the mother asked. I knew the answer to this question was yes, but at the same time… I thought that saying so to her mother would be tantamount to signing my death warrant.

But I couldn't lie. "Yes," I said, "And if you have a problem with that, you'll have to take it up with her."

Desdemona tripped revealing her location behind the door. "I wasn't listening!" she shouted, although it was apparent from her blush that she was.

"Very well," the mother said, "If you want to have a goddess-forsaken romance with a human, I'm not going to stop you, but you can never come in this house again."

"N-never?" Desdemona asked. "But mother…"

"It's fine," I said, "I'll just leave. And you can live happily together without me."

"No!" she shouted grabbing my arm. "I can do this! I can sacrifice my mother for you!"

"I… I don't want to make you…" I said.

"Zihark, don't you understand? If mother thinks that this relationship is 'goddess-forsaken', do you really want to be related to her?" Desdemona asked.

"Related… you want to mar…" I said.

"Shh," she told me. "You think too much." She turned to her mother. "And you… you have the opposite problem… you think too little."

"It's you who thinks too little, Desi," the mother said, "Why couldn't you be like your brothers? They all became Gallian soldiers. You… became a human-lover."

"Goodbye," Desdemona said. She wasn't crying. She was angry. She slammed the door behind her. I felt horrible. "I'm sorry, Zihark, I shouldn't have dragged you here…"

"It's no big deal," I said, "You're the one who got disowned."

"I'd like to think it's the other way around," she said, "I had the chance to stay with her… but if she can't accept my love for you, then I don't need her, or want her."

"Well, if you insist," I said. Despite my immediate feelings of regret, I tried to be happy; after all, if she sacrificed her family for me, then I had to do my best to show gratitude, lest her efforts be in vain.