The sound of glass on steel rings out through the abandoned streets of Helgen as Dahlia's blade slices through the bandit she is currently fighting. Neither she nor Ulfric expected to find so many of them on their return. The city is infested.

She pulls the body from her blade and readies herself for the next one.

How long can they go on like this?

Zun Haal.

Ulfric's voice momentarily distracts her and gives Dahlia's new opponent the opportunity to strike, opening a deep gash on her off arm.

Foolish.

Focus.

However, she is getting angry, and with that anger comes impatience.

While it has been a few months since she held her blade against a real foe, she has kept herself in practice out in the Yard with the guards in Windhelm. The strokes comes easy to her, but she had hoped that she could lay down her arms for a while. She tires of the bloodshed, yet it is still all around her.

Red covers her blade, her armor, and her hair. The tang of iron coats her tongue, the taste of it everywhere and nowhere all at once as memory brings her back there again. Solitude. Castle Dour. She can feel her knees dig into the stones of the floor as she holds onto Ulfric for dear life. Suddenly, she drops her sword, pushing her palms into her eyes.

Rage burns through her, and she thinks of fire the way the dov do-the way only her kind can truly understand what it means to burn.

Yol.

Fire spills from her lips in waves as it burns everything in its path. Several of the bandits are reduced to nothing but dust in the wind and several more drop to the ground, their flesh eaten away by her fury.

Dahlia turns. Three more bandits advance towards Ulfric, and she sprints towards them with her sword raised. The first she slices through cleanly as his head rolls to the ground with a sickening thump. The second is impaled using the momentum of her wrenching her sword from her previous victim. The last stands firm against her with his broad shoulders squared towards her. He will not go down without a decent fight. Or at least that is what he thinks.

All she has to do is bide her time until she can Shout again.

Quickly, she meets her opponent. In these situations it is best not to waste time and take advantage of the element of surprise while one still can. To that end, she makes the opening move as she swings her sword up and around to try to force the larger man into a defensive position. There is no way she will be able to best him in a contest of pure strength and that is not her usual fighting strategy anyway. Instead, she relies on her fast footwork and ability to improvise. Whether that be through magic or Shouts, it depends on her mood, and today, she is on fire.

It has been too long since her dragon soul has tasted freedom.

Guided by instinct alone, she continues to attack at random with no real pattern in mind. Her fighting stance is sloppy, which earns her more than a few bruises that what she would usually allow, but that doesn't matter much to her at the moment. All she needs is time.

For a while, they exchange blows, taking turns parrying and then thrusting their respective weapons forward. However, with each second that ticks on, she feels her body run hotter as her need to Shout grows stronger. It soon comes to a head, her thoughts scrambling as she tries to keep herself under control. But the scenery around her, the men she sees surrounding Ulfric, and her anger at everything-everything that has happened to her: the need for her to continue fighting, the burden she has been forced to carry in this life, and at what she has had to sacrifice-it all boils over as she sees nothing but the static of white-hot rage while yet more fire spills from her lips.

Her sword never stops moving. Forward she presses through the heat of her own rage to cut through any bandits which remains. Distorted images swim in front of her as the outlines of her surroundings sway and spin around her.

Carnage, bones, and blood are soon all that is left other than herself and Ulfric. There is nothing else living here anymore, only ghosts and memories.

"Dahlia." He calls over to her, and she lifts her head to him. "It's done. You can drop your sword."

She hadn't even realized that it was still held high in fighting stance. Dahlia shakes her head to try to clear her mind of the pounding fury clawing at her from the inside. She takes several deep breaths in and out before the pointed blue tip of her weapon soon drops heavily onto the cobblestone of the street.

Her eyes subtly flick over to him-to check him for any injuries-and then wander off in a search of the ruins of Helgen. They are here with a job to do after all.

It is utterly desolate. The structures of houses burned to the ground, stone foundations being the only thing left. The walls of the once great Imperial Keep have come crumbling down, leaving them left open and vulnerable.

Vaguely, she can still hear it, and she can still see it: Helgen as Alduin swept in. The sky a murky grey as she looks up at the heavens to accept her fate. Ash and soot burning in her nose as she tries to keep up with Ralof. Her mind curiously wandering back to Jarl Ulfric and questioning the connection she felt back then.

It all comes full circle now that they are back at the place where they first met.

Dahlia opens her mouth, trying to grasp at the words she wants, as she turns to survey the ruins of what was once a great city. "Did you-"

Helgen is not something they have often talked about despite the fact that they were both here.

"Did I what?" Ulfric asks, as his eyes turn to her, taking in her expression. What was once full of raging violence is now contemplative, questioning, and soft. It's a wonder to him how she can go from one to another with such ease.

"Back then on the cart."

Ah, he understands what she means.

Ulfric stands quietly for a moment while he tries to remember back to that day. If he is honest with himself, he doesn't remember much from then. The memories are mostly a blur, but as he visualizes the cart, he can almost see her.

"I wasn't sure what to make of you." He closes his eyes as he thinks more about that fated day. "I had first wondered how a mage of all things had made her way onto an Imperial cart. And you had looked so small. I almost felt-" His voice trails off, and he scratches at his beard before turning to look at her again.

Her eyes gaze at him with open curiosity. "What?"

He sighs and shakes his head. "If you're asking me if I felt love for you the first time I laid eyes on you, you'll be sorely disappointed."

She frowns at him, but he continues.

"But if you're asking me if I felt drawn to you, then that's another question entirely. I felt that there was something slightly different about you which made me feel responsible for you-and why I made sure you went with Ralof and I."

He can almost remember the sensation of her hand in his back then even if he cannot remember the original reason he felt the need to take it. Ulfric only knew that he had to make sure that she got out of Helgen safely. Her hand was small-smooth and without the callouses it holds now-but it was warm in his own as he pulled her through the chaos of the city falling down around them.

"I was a very different person back then. I am not sure you would have liked me very much." Dahlia interrupts his memory. "I was much greener back then, much younger in many ways, and rather emotional."

"And how exactly is that any different from now?"

She cracks a smile at him, yet continues on in a serious tone. "I mean it, Ulfric. I was very insecure back then, and I found out a lot about myself and who I am while I was seeking out Alduin."

He nods at her, acknowledging what she is trying to tell him and understanding the feeling. "And I imagine you wouldn't have liked me very much when I was younger either. We have that in common."

"Perhaps, then, we found each other at exactly the right moment even if it took us a long time to get there."

"Perhaps you are right."

Their conversation falls into comfortable silence. While there are years separating them from their first meeting, Ulfric takes her hand in his again as they walk the empty streets of Helgen. Much as changed for both of them; however, the feeling that they are pulled together still remains as does the need for him to keep her safe.

As they wander the what remains of the city, they each catalogue what structures are left and what repairs will need to be done. Most if not all of the residences have been razed to the ground, but the majority of the Keep and a few other buildings seem to have survived, the tavern being the most notable.

"It almost reminds me of Winterhold." Dahlia observes as she reaches down to scoop a broken doll off of the ground. "Except without the ominous sea cliffs."

Ulfric nods as he squats down to take the doll from his wife's hands. "Unfortunately, I saw a lot of this in the Great War."

The Great War. Dahlia looks to him, her forehead creasing in worry. "Ulfric-"

He waves her off. "The Elves have an affinity for magic that most of the other races cannot hope to match, and this power was used indiscriminately across the many towns and settlements of Cyrodiil. I remember one in particular-" he shakes his head solemnly. "This is one of the reasons I started this war to begin with. The Aldmeri Dominion is cruel. I hope to spare us of their tortures and their destruction. I have seen too much of it."

Dahlia takes one of his hands and lifts it to her lips, kissing the back of it softly. "I know, and we don't have to talk about this."

"But we do-all of Skyrim needs to remember what most have forgotten. This is not over, and this," he waves a hand out in front of himself indicating the ruined city, "will be the least of our worries if we do not band together and stop them."

"I won't let that happen. You know that." Dahlia's eyes look at him with such sincerity that he doesn't doubt her for one second. "I would do anything at all to save you-save us from this. I did not face Alduin just to fail us on Nirn."

Ulfric looks at her, eyes glinting softly in the dying daylight as he studies her. He can see the same tiredness reflected in her eyes that he is sure she sees in his own. While neither of them wish to see any more fighting, that is a consequence of the position they have both been put in. It is what the fates demand, and the longer he studies her face, the more he can see the stubborn determination-the fire-which makes her unique. Over the year and a half that he has known her, he has learned that she is firm in her convictions. And most of those are rooted in the same love he feels for Skyrim and her people.

Surely, Akatosh and the Divines would not put them on this path only for them to fail? Either way, he will follow her until the end.

"This time you won't have to do it alone." He tells her just as sincerely.

She should not have to.

Dahlia smiles at him, squeezing his hand in hers. "And neither will you."

Suddenly, he gets up, leaving the doll behind, propped up against a stone. "Then we had best get started. There is much work to do."


"Why aren't they back yet?" Galmar paces the front of the Great Hall as Jorleif tries to ignore the irritated housecarl.

He has done this every day for the last two weeks, and today is no different. Instead of staying for what he knows is to come, Jorleif takes his leave, opting to get work done in Ulfric's office.

"I am sure they'll be back soon. Both he and the Dragonborn are more the capable warriors. Stop your worrying, you're going to make Jorleif go even grayer than he already is." Rikke answer him as she peels an apple.

"Easy enough for you to say." He grumbles. "You'd probably be happier if neither of them came back. As a matter of fact, you're the whole reason why I am stuck here to begin with."

"How many times have I told you? You cannot blame me for their decisions."

"I should have-" Galmar mumbles under his breath as he starts to walk towards the War Room.

"Should have what, hm? Why don't you come over here and say that to my face? Or are you too cowardly to do so?" Rikke baits him.

Lydia's eyes dart back and forth as she watches the same argument happen yet again. She and Narile have bets going as to when they'll end up in each other's bed. While she thinks it will happen in the next day or so, her wife seems to think that they're both too stubborn and too stupid to make that realization until at least another month. However, one thing the pair can agree on is that both of the retired generals need to get over themselves. Desperately.

And of course, just like all the other times that Rikke has picked a fight with him, Galmar takes that bait and walks over to the table, leaning over it as he looks down his nose at Rikke. "You forget that I am in charge here while our Lords are both away. If I do choose, I can put you down in the Bloodworks faster than you can say 'imperial sympathizer.'"

The corners of her mouth fight to stay neutral as she quips. "You've been saying this for days, but you have yet to do so. Some might think you like me."

Galmar opens and closes his mouth a few times as he tries to think of a retort; however, nothing comes to him. What is he to say as what she claims is true? He only pokes her like this because he is unsure of how else to approach her.

"That's what I thought." Rikke answers for him as she pushes back her seat so she can stand. "If anyone needs me, I will be out doing something useful. You'll find me in the Yard trying to test the mettle of the newest recruits."

With that, the ex-Legate takes her leave, Galmar watching her until she disappears out one of the side doors.

"You know, you could try being nice to her for once or giving a her a compliment." Lydia tries. She almost feels sorry for him. Almost.

"And what would you know about any of that? I don't need your assistance." He answers as he turns to her.

Lydia blinks. "I would think I know quite a bit about women seeing as I am one, and I have a wife."

He sighs as he takes a seat across from her. "Point taken. And what would you suggest I do?"

"I just told you. You'll catch more flies with honey than vinegar, Galmar."

"But so many things have happened since..." He trails off as he runs a hand down his face. "I don't even know where to begin."

"Start from the beginning. Have a nice heart-to-heart."

"I was hoping to avoid that."

Lydia places an elbow on the table as she leans forward. "If Dahlia were here, she'd tell you that 'leaving things to fester is not the best way to clean a wound'."

Galmar frowns. "I suppose she is right."

"Don't let her hear you saying that, or her great Dragonborn head will get even bigger."

They both laugh as they know how both she and Ulfric can be.

"I'll be sure to keep that to myself. Thank you for the advice." He tells her genuinely. "You're not so bad."

"I'm glad you think so because you're stuck with me for the foreseeable future."

Galmar snorts. "We will certainly have our work cut out for us, that's for sure."

Lydia nods in agreement. If it was difficult keeping her out of trouble at a Thane, it will be doubly so when she is Queen. That is something for both of them to worry about in the not-so-distant future. For no, they have to focus on today.

"Did you see the letters which came yesterday?" She asks Galmar carefully. She was able to see who they were from-Arch-mage Tolfdir and Jarl Laila-but wasn't able to open them. The steward swooped in to pluck them from her hands before she could even turn them over.

"No, but I have noticed that Jorleif hasn't been as testy as he usually is. I can only guess that means good news. Normally, that man lives in a constant state of being high-strung and overworked."

"Perhaps, if you have enough time to sit around and criticize how I run my Hold, I should give you some of the steward's work to lighten his load."

Galmar and Lydia immediately stiffen at hearing an all too familiar voice from behind them.

Ulfric and Dahlia have returned from their excursion.

"Dahlia," Lydia turns to her friend with a smile, "it's good to have you back. I have been going crazy with this one pining over-"

"I have not been pining over anyone, and I would thank you to keep your nose out of my business." The general crosses his arms over his chest defensively.

"That isn't what you were saying just a minute ago when I was giving you relationship advice."

"No one asked you to give it."

Dahlia lifts a brow and looks to Ulfric who is also trying to hold back his amusement at the situation at hand. They both had their own conversation about the general and ex-Legate's relationship. Instead of getting in the middle of it, she ignores their argument. There will be more than enough time to meddle later.

"I am happy to see you too, Lydia." Dahlia gives her friend a quick hug and turns to Galmar. "And if you're getting relationship advice from Lydia, may Talos preserve you."

"Hey!" Lydia states in offense. "The advice that I gave you seemed to work out pretty well. Here you are married and with a Jarl no less, about to be High Queen, and living your dreams. You should be thanking me. It was not an easy to get you this far."

"Living your dreams, eh?" Ulfric smirks as he looks to Dahlia who blushes a brilliant red.

His wife playfully narrows her eyes at him. "And I will be your worst nightmare if you all do not stop teasing me. Besides, we have news for you all."

Lydia rolls her eyes at Dahlia's none-too-subtle change of subject, but lets it drop go. "You didn't run into any trouble, I assume?"

"Nothing the both of us couldn't handle." Ulfric states as he motions for them to follow him towards the War Room.

"What do you mean 'nothing we couldn't handle'?" Galmar asks, but Ulfric only ignores him as he brushes past him to open the door for Dahlia.

"Exactly that." The Dragonborn finishes for her husband. "A few bandits had made Helgen their home, but we took care of them."

"Bandits?" Lydia adds.

"By Talos, you both make it sound like after fighting a whole damned war that fighting a few common criminals is like taking on the Divines themselves. We are here, and we are fine." Ulfric states with a wave of his hand.

Galmar leans against the map table, eyes pinching closed momentarily in frustration. "That very well might be, but you both have to think about the consequences of your actions. You do not have the luxury of running around as it pleases you anymore. You're both too important!"

"I have to agree with Galmar on this. If something had happened to either of you," Lydia shakes her head, "what would have been the point of all of this? Nothing. That was very stupid of both of you. I knew I shouldn't have allowed you to go alone."

"Neither of us should have allowed for that."

As Dahlia thinks on what both housecarls are saying, the more she does, the more it makes sense and the guiltier she feels. When they put it that way, it does sound incredibly selfish.

"You may not have liked it, but it was something which needed to be done. Who else would have gone to Jarl Laila?" Ulfric argues.

"You should have had an escort. And if you need any further reprimand, Darkwater Crossing ring any bells?"

"That was-"

"Something which should have never fucking happened. And while you and Dahlia might be fine now, if either of you had died, there would have been Oblivion to pay. Who would rule Skyrim, and how do you think we would take on the Elves without you? It's a bunch of bullshit, Ulfric, and you know it."

Galmar leans forward over the map table to poke a finger into his Jarl's chest. "Tell me what was this all for. A scout or even Ralof could have easily went in your place to survey Helgen. Was it so you could go galavanting off like a hero and impress your wife?"

"Take your hands off of me this instant." Ulfric's voice rumbles low as he snatches his housecarl's wrist in his own in a painful grasp.

"So, you do not deny it then?"

"Deny what?" He asks through clenched teeth.

Galmar leans forward, a dangerous position for him to be in as he whispers in his friend's ear. "That you were thinking with your cock and not your head. You have nothing to prove to her anymore. She already married you."

"You overstep your bounds, friend." Ulfric releases Galmar's wrist quickly, shoving him away.

Anyone else would have been Shouted into Oblivion by now. Ulfric only gives Galmar the common courtesy of maintaining his current standing position due to their many years of friendship, and even that is wearing thin.

"Enough." Dahlia says, her face holding a deep frown as she steps forward towards the table. "None of this is getting us anywhere, and we have serious business to attend to." She sighs as a hand comes up to massage her temples. "Yes, perhaps it was not the best idea for us to go off by ourselves, but I believe both of us have enough self-awareness now to realize that was not the best course of action. For the time being, what is done is done, and we need to move on. Standing around and arguing about it will not help."

Ulfric spares a glance towards Dahlia, and seeing the heavy look on her face, decides to leave things be. For now at least. "You're right, my heart. We have more important things to discuss at the moment. We have secured a nomination for the Moot, and I believe that we will gain more support in the upcoming weeks as word spreads about Helgen."

Lydia and Galmar exchange a look, and Dahlia is certain that this will not be the end of them hearing about their ill-thought-out endeavor. Lydia at the very least will likely give her an earful later as soon as she gets a moment along with her, but she will accept that as the consequence of her actions. In the back of her mind, while she does genuinely feel apologetic about the whole situation, at the same time, she is still glad that she and Ulfric could get out of the Palace. It was a nice change of pace for her.

While Dahlia tries to sort out her feelings, they all begin to take their seats at the War Table, and she notices that Jorleif has joined them. She watches the steward's lips move as he holds out two letters for Ulfric. However, as her husband checks the outer envelopes, he takes one of them and passes it to her.

Glancing down at the wax, she can clearly see the great seal of Magnus, indicating that it is from the College. Tolfdir must have gotten back to her about asking for mage recruits. Her heart beats quickly in her chest as she is uncertain how he will have reacted to her request, but opening that letter will have to wait for later. For now, she can see that Ulfric is carefully unfolding the parchment of his own correspondence.

Jarls of Skyrim,

Over the last few months, things have been tumultuous with the unrest due to the mishandling of the Empire, the threat of the Thalmor, and the end of the Civil War. We are left now to pick up the pieces of our country in whatever ways we can. However, I know that if we put our efforts together, we will prevail. We are not broken, and we are not beaten.

Personally, what has been weighing most on my mind is the uncertainty which comes from our government and the unknown of what will happen next.

With the Moot happening in two months' time, it is even more important that we reflect on and think about our options.

As we are all well-aware, Jarl Elisif and Balgruuf have put their names forward in hopes to lead our nation through our darkest hours, but I have written this letter in order to propose another option. While these nominees have a certain appeal , I do not believe that they are the best candidates for the job. We will need a stronger leadership with rulers who have proven themselves in order to help us through what we all know is to come. Therefore, in our hour of need, I will put forth the names of Jarl Ulfric and his wife, the Lady Dragonborn.

Recently, I have had the honor of speaking to both of them and hearing what plans they have to bring Skyrim into a brighter future, the first of those plans being Helgen. We are currently in the process of rebuilding the city, and I have been told that once it is complete, any survivors of Alduin's attacks as well as refugees of the Civil War will be allowed to resettle there. In addition to this, reopening the city will bring about more fruitful trade and commerce for all of us. This plan, along with Ulfric's military expertise and political dominance, and coupled with Dragonborn's might and compassion, will see us through to a new day.

I hope you all will join me in my support of them.

Kindest regards,
Jarl Laila Law-Giver

Galmar lets out a low whistle following Ulfric's reading of Laila's letter."That's quite the recommendation. You both must have been rather persuasive in your visit to Riften, among other things."

Of course, he cannot help but make another jab at the both of them; however, Lydia interrupts before Ulfric can make a retort. "Is that what you two have been up to these past few weeks with the visits to Torsten and the sudden surge of activity in the Docks?"

"In a way, yes. There have been certain moving pieces to put into place in order to make this plan come into fruition. Torsten is one of them. In exchange for a partial investment in the Navy he has always wanted, he is going to lend us some of his cargo ships. Those very same ships will be moving the supplies from Windhelm into the Rift."

"It also didn't hurt that we said we would send some of our skilled workers to help fix up Riften's own Docks." Dahlia adds.

Ulfric nods. "And in the end, we get what we need along with candidacy for the Moot. Elisif and Balgruuf have failed if they thought that rushing would keep us from being eligible."

Dahlia sniffs as she frowns at the mention of Solitude's Jarl. If she had it her way, she would bury them both.

"So, what's your next move, my Lords?" Jorleif asks.

Ulfric scratches his beard in thought as he contemplates the question. There are quite a few things which are on his list to do: recruiting workers to send to Helgen, gathering supplies, speaking with Torsten about his ships, checking the current ledger of their finances, and if he is honest, spending more quality time with his wife.

Unfortunately, as much as they have been trying over the last few weeks, Dahlia recently started her monthly blood which was disappointing for both of them. His wife has been putting on a brave face, but he knows she is taking it particularly hard.

"For now, perhaps we should gather our thoughts as well as send out a few letters to the other Jarls. It cannot hurt to contact them directly." He looks to Galmar as if daring him to challenge him. "We can reconvene tomorrow to speak about what will be our next move. For now, I will retire with my wife as we are both tired from our journey."

"Would you like me to send a few pieces of the good parchment up to your room, my Jarl?" Jorleif asks as he nervously wrings his hands. He has also felt the tension between Ulfric and his housecarl.

"If you would, along with a dinner tray, that would be excellent. Thank you, Jorleif."

With that, Ulfric stands, offering an arm to Dahlia and a stern look towards Galmar, and they exit the room for the comfort of their own chamber.

Once there, Ulfric checks on Dahlia, looking back at her and checking her state of being. "Is there something that you need? Do you want to have dinner first before I write these letters or even help me to do it?"

"I'm fine Ulfric just a little tired." She looks at him with a smile, her face a mask of positivity despite the slow churning in her stomach. "But if you want some help with the letters, if you read them aloud, I can give some suggestions."

He sighs, but obeys her wishes even if he cannot help but worry about her. While he begins penning the letters, he reads what he is writing to Dahlia with her occasionally making some helpful changes to the wording of them. After some time, a tray of food arrives for them, and they both pick at the contents of it-dried meats and cheeses-as they continue working together.

Eventually, the hours wind on and Dahlia begins to prepare herself for bed. As she does so, she pulls the letter from Winterhold from the pocket of her trousers.

Hearing the sound of parchment, Ulfric looks over to her from his position at his desk and watches her intently.

She doesn't say anything to him him right away as she skims through the contents of the letter.

...Of course, we would be happy to help one of our own, and we all understand the gravity of the situation. You were very right to send me a letter. It is inevitable that the Thalmor will someday make their way to our shores, and we need to be prepared with capable mages. Faralda has already expressed interest in leading a team of Destruction mages.

As you know, we do not get many students, but perhaps with some more funding and promotion of the school, we will soon get more.

At least Tolfdir is receptive to their needs. While eccentric, he has a logical head on his shoulders. However, her stomach sinks while she reads over the next section.

To that end, it has come to our attention, that you are now Skyrim's only Master Restoration wizard-perhaps the only Master on all of Tamriel. We would both like to extend a congratulations your way, and in addition to this, Colette insists that you come to the College and lecture the students on how exactly you achieved-

The letter is crushed in her hands forcefully.

"No." She whispers with a shake of her head.

Ulfric turns to her, his eyes full of concern. "What does it say, my heart? Is it bad news? Will the mages not help us?"

Her face crumbles as her eyes squeeze shut, and she incinerates the paper in her hands, ashes staining her palms black. "Tolfdir has stated that he'd be more than happy to send some recruits, so there is no need to worry about that." She swallows hard against the lump forming in her throat. "But they also want me to come speak about what happened in Solitude..."

"You do not have to do anything that you do not want to."

"I know," she shakes her head some more as if clearing her thoughts. "And I understand that they want to know how I did it, and I am sure you have your own guesses, but-I feel like there is a reason that information was lost. It is cursed. I am cursed."

Tears begin to spill from her eyes as Ulfric's face becomes a blur in front of her. She had thought she was done with all the crying. Done being sad. Done feeling like such a failure. And she supposes for the most part she is, but it is hard for her to move on when it feels like lately her life has been a constant reminder of the consequences of her actions. Dahlia presses the heels of her hands into her eyes, stars forming as she violently wipes the wetness away. She doesn't have any right to be sad; this was of her own doing.

"Dahlia..." He rises from his chair to go to his wife and lead her to sit on their bed.

She doesn't have the energy to fight him. She is too tired. Instead, she buries her head in his chest as she allows him to hold her in silence.

"What if it's my fault, and we can't have children because-"

Ulfric quiets her immediately, as he presses a kiss to the top of her head. "You can't think like that, and it is not your fault. It is never your fault. It just takes time, and we have-"

"But our time is running out. The Moot is coming, and you need-"

He holds her tighter as he runs a calming hand through her hair. "I need nothing more than you. That is all I require. Please do not worry about anything more than that. It hurts me to see you torture yourself so."

Dahlia pulls her head back from his shirt, the material soaked through with her tears, as she looks up to him. "You don't mean that."

He leans closer to her, making sure to hold her gaze. "I do, and I will continue proving it to you every day until you believe me. It's just a matter of time. After all, I have been told that I am a charismatic bastard."

His joke elicits a small smile and then a laugh from Dahlia as she rests her head on his shoulder. "I will hold you to that."