"It was a damned foolish thing you did back there." Elba chastised her husband as she sat down behind him, lifting up his arm and inspecting his wounded flesh. The skin around his shoulder blade was still raw and tender red, the dark lines of his scars running down in deep, geometric grooves.

"I know," Libro said, head hanging low as if he were a child being scolded.

"You could have been seriously hurt, or maimed, or worse!" She took a ribbon of medicine soaked bandages and wrapped it around his arm, starting at the wrist and working up. The smell of it all made her nose twinge, the pungent odor reminding her of Gretta's old salves, back when she'd still been a part of Elba's life.

"I know." Libro wouldn't look at her, keeping his back to her instead, hard muscles twitching and squirming as he desperately kept his composure. His grip tightened around the bedsheets, and Elba had to wonder if it was coming from the medicine, or from his own stubborn pride instead.

She sighed as she tied off the last of the bandages, pulling the fabric taut before leaning in and planting her forehead on the back of his neck. He felt so warm against her, heat radiating off his skin and banishing the cold inside their chilly room, or prison cell depending on how you viewed things.

The Jarlah told them they were Olaf's guests now, but the armed guards standing constantly outside their door made Elba think otherwise. Ever since their victory at Kel Dracon, the Lightbringers had done nothing but praise to say about their accomplishments, while keeping them locked away in a gilded cage. She'd ruminated over the situation for several days now, but escaping was the least of her concerns for the time being.

Her first concern sat beside her on the bed, the other growing marvelously in her belly.

"Why did I have to fall in love with such a fool?" Elba wrapped her arms around Libro, pulling him in close as she nuzzled against the crook of his shoulder, the smell of him almost intoxicating. Sweat and leather, with the slightest hint of lilac and elderberry, the aroma of the south never quite leaving him.

A healthy fire crackled nearby as they sat there in silence, shadows dancing on the walls of their tiny room, the pop and sizzle of the flames their only other companion. Then Libro leaned back, reached up, and brushed her cheek with the crook of his fingers, burrowing against her like an eager puppy.

"I suppose it was my charm and good looks that won you over in the end," Libro said, flashing her a wayward smile, the very same he'd given her in the Mootlands, all those years ago. "That, or my dashing bravery."

"Heroes and idiots are cut from the same cloth, it seems," Elba said. She seized Libro gingerly by the chin, craning his neck up so she could look him in the eyes, his lavender purples meeting her ocean blues. She bent down, planted a kiss on his chapped, scarred lips, the warmth from his body spreading quickly into hers, filling her with a delicious heat.

The kiss quickly turned into another, then another, a desperate hunger swiftly taking over as her grip tightened around him. Like a rabbit caught in the powerful muscles of a constrictor, Libro could only squirm and gasp as she wrapped herself around him, pulling him into the bed, coiling her legs around his and locking him in place.

"Elba," Libro gasped, but she wasn't listening. All she wanted was his warmth, his presence, his security. All she wanted was to feel safe again. Her soft kisses swiftly devolved into hungry, teasing nips as she slithered on top, biting at his lower lip, tugging at his tongue, desperate to taste more of him, filling the growing need inside her.

How long had it been since they'd embraced like this? A week? Two? Time felt like an illusion in Danic, the sun and moon mere concepts created by the dreams of imbeciles. The only way Elba could tell was the miserable longing in her guts, desperate to be free.

She was on top of him now, pinning him to the bed with her hips, her grip on his wrist gentle yet unbreakable. He tried to squirm away, his cheeks turning the same color as the skin on his arm, chest heaving as he realized what was happening, what was going to happen.

"Elba," Libro murmured, as if saying her name was a prayer, and she a divine goddess meant to be worshipped. It made her heart flutter, made her skin tingle with anticipation, made the life inside her churn with delicious joy.

She met her lips with his, silencing him with a kiss, crackling fire and sliding skin filling the silence delectable noise. His tongue tasted sour and sweet from wine and sleep, the frenzied pumping of his heart beating against her own chest, matching in tempo.

It was all too much. Elba pressed her head into Libro's chest as a sob escaped her, her pent up energy bleeding away instantly as she started to cry. Hot tears burned streaks down her face, plopping into the chiseled grooves of her husband's muscles, creating little rivers and channels of wet.

"I could have lost you," Elba said, unable to hide her fear anymore behind a mask of tender love. "I could have lost the one thing keeping me tethered to this broken world, and then where would I be? Alone, with a child who would never know his father. Alone, surrounded by strangers in a place I cannot call home. Alone...alone...alone..."

The word burned like acid on her tongue. The one thing she feared more than death itself, and it was almost a near reality.

Libro didn't say anything at first. He simply let her lay there on top of him, his one good hand rubbed the small of her back, as if reassuring her he was still there and always would be. When the tears finally stopped, he brushed away a loose drop and cupped her cheek, guiding her to look at him.

"I felt the same way when you were taken from me. You know?"

Elba stared at him and sniffled, trying desperately to keep her lower lip from trembling, and failing quite miserably.

"There were some days I thought I'd never see you again," he continued. "That the only light in my life had been snuffed out for good." His voice wavered then and he had to stop to compose himself, his own tears running freely now. "That my luck had finally run out."

"You farking fool," Elba whispered. "You've more good and luck in your life than you realize."

"Not without you. Never without you." He wrapped his arm around her, pressing her in close, carefully cradling her belly. "I would have done anything to get you back. Even if it cost me my life. As long as you were safe, as long as our child was safe, that was all that mattered to me."

"And now the Empress knows as well," Elba blurted out before she could stop herself. Both of them froze for an instant, and she swore the room grew a little bit colder then, as if invoking her name could banish the warmth from anywhere.

Libro sighed, exhaustion clearly present in his voice. "Yes, she does."

"What...what do you think will happen?"

"I don't know, and that scares me the most. Traitors and children I can handle, but the Empress is one beast I'll never be able to face, I fear."

A shiver ran down Elba's spine. "I'm sorry for bringing it up. It's just been on my mind a lot after...well, after everything, I suppose."

Libro hugged her tighter. "Whatever happens, I'll be by your side. Forever."

"Forever." Elba snuggled back into her husband's chest, the word ringing like a mantra in her head. "And ever, and ever, and ever."

She closed her eyes, feeling the edge of sleep tugging at her, until a knock at the door pulled her back into reality.

"Who is it?" Libro demanded.

"Jarlah Freyah demands to speak with you," one of the guards called out.

"Fething shite," Elba cursed under breath. "Can you give us a moment? I was halfway through peeling off my husband's clothes and now I've got to put them back on again."

There was a haughty cough at the door, a few murmured words before the guard responded. "Fine, but be quick about it."

"She sure does have excellent timing," Libro mused as they sat back up. He held his arm out as Elba slipped his shirt back on, pulling the leather sheath over the stump of his right arm and hooking them into place.

"At least when it doesn't involve the battlefield," Elba shot back.

"Can't really blame her. Leading an army into battle is like herding cats. An impossible task sometimes, especially if they're inadequately trained."

"Have you actually seen a well trained cat before?"

Libro gave her a coy, little smile. "Once, but he was from the circus, and I think it was more bribery than training that kept him well behaved."

Elba slid her pants back on, shucked her feet into a pair of boots Libro had bought her during their first tour in Byzantia, forgoing the usual tradition of furs and silks. Who needed gaudy trinkets anyway, when warm toes were just as nice?

The door slid open after they'd finished dressing. The Jarlah stepped inside with the same presence of an attack dog barely held back by its leash. She glared at the pair of them, the lower half of her face still hidden behind the cloth mask, but it was clear she was scowling by the furrowed knit of her brows.

"Did you sleep well?" The Jarlah asked, her tone somehow making it sound like a threat. "It must be nice being reunited after so long."

Elba exchanged a wary look with Libro before speaking. "We did, and it is," she said simply.

The Jarlah bowed her head. "That is good. How's the wound?"

Libro turned his bandaged arm this way and that, strips of pink flesh peaking out through the edges. "Feels like I dipped my arm in molten metal, but it will heal."

"That is also good." The Jarlah stared at the two of them before clearing her throat. "What you did back in Kel Dracon was, to put bluntly, a divine act by all accounts. Helping us secure the castle, killing the Right Hand of the King. Those were no small feats."

"Is that why you're here?" Elba asked, a little perturbed on where the conversation was going. "To praise my husband for his heroism that day?"

"Not just praise," The Jarlah said. "Olaf would also like to reward you for the victory you've given the Lightbringers."

"And what reward would that be?" Libro asked.

"That will be for him to decide, not me. I'm just the messenger." The Jarlah turned to leave, only to pause at the foot of the doorway a second later. "We'll be lighting the pyres soon to send off our dead. It would be in good taste if you joined us. We've even made one for your fallen comrade, if you wish for his body to be given to Aurora that is. I understand it would be difficult transporting him back the way he is, and with how the dead behave in Danic, it would be shameful having to potentially kill him down a second time."

Elba winced, hating how every word that tumbled out of the Jarlah's mouth came out backhanded. Every vile emotion she knew coiled up like a serpent in her chest, wanting to spring out and bite the gash faced woman, to make her feel even a small iota of what she felt inside, but that would have been childish.

People like her never truly understand the pain of others, unless they're the ones causing it.

"I think that would be for the best," Libro said. "The Vangen have a memorium where we can keep his remains afterwards. Where he'll be remembered."

"The north will always remember him," The Jarlah said. "After what he did, it's the least we can do for heroes like him." And without another word, she shut the door behind her, leaving Elba alone with her husband once more.

***