Page 43 of Plaything of the Dark Elf

Tears? This woman brings him to tears?

Her beauty would probably bring me to tears if I wasn’t focusing so much on Etheron. Long black hair spills out in all directions, draping over the square stone block. Dark skin glistens in the light, full lips rest above a delicately curved jaw, and hands fold together on her stomach. If I was told she was the Mother, Goddess of beauty and the divine feminine, I’d believe it.

“I told you what happened to my family.” His hand squeezes mine while his free hand hovers over the woman’s shoulder, as if he can’t bring himself to disturb her. “This is Jasta, my mother.”

My eyes shoot wide. “I— I thought…”

He nods and his jaw tightens. “She’s gone. A preservation spell keeps her just like she was the day she died. My father—” He lips press together as the tendons in his neck flex. “He should…be here as well.” His eyes well with tears. “He, uh…” He shakes his head and closes his eyes, sending two tears rolling down his cheeks. His chest rises as he struggles for breath. “There wasn’t enough of him left after the massacre. So, it’s just Mother.”

I step closer, placing my other hand on his arm. I can’t imagine what it would have been like to watch them die like that. Yet, I’ve never seen this from him. Etheron, struggling? It doesn’t make sense in my mind. He’s so strong, so steadfast. A part of me needs to fix it. Set things right. What kind of mad world is this where General Etheron feels pain? It’s unnatural.

I reach for his cheek to wipe his tears away. “Etheron.”

He straightens as he inhales, pulling away from my hand. “This is the only place where I can do this, Dalia. If others, even the servants, witnessed me with tears on my face, I’d be ruined. If they even heard a whisper of it.”

He turns from me, but his hand remains around mine.

I wrap my other hand around his, encasing his fingers and palm with mine. The urge to wrap him in my arms crushes my heart, but I wait. Even with my lip quivering, my vision blurring with tears, I wait for him.

“I’m a General. I’m meant for combat. I’m meant to lead others to their deaths in the name of Vhoig. I’m not allowed to show emotion unless it’s rage and hate for our enemies.”

“Etheron.” There’s something more to be said, but I can’t find the words.

“I come here from time to time to remember, to honor my family.” His voice breaks and my heart breaks with it. “They both deserve to be here. At least she is.”

I glance at Jasta and the question of why I’m here returns.

This is his sanctuary as much as it is her mausoleum. It’s one of the few places he can truly be alone. Away from his duties, from his soldiers, his servants. Why is he letting me in, his slave? Why is he bringing me here, letting me see his tears? Is it because I’m expendable? Is it because no one would believe me if I told them? Because I would be killed if I did?

Etheron releases a sharp exhale. “My father was a hard man, but my mother was…elegance incarnate.” He turns to me, each cheek stained with a single line of tears.

He smiles. Such a hurt, yet genuine smile.

A moment ago, I was worried about the consequences of seeing him like this, now I’m worried I don’t deserve to.

I’ve never seen a dark elf so truly as I see Etheron in this moment. He’s not a monument to brutality. He’s not a collage of all the hate and viciousness his kind has to offer.

He’s a person.

A person who feels deeply. A person who struggles, who suffers. A person in pain.

I wrap my arms around him, pulling him into the tightest embrace I can manage. He’s not meant to cry, so I cry for him. I don’t know why he brought me in here, but if I can help, I will. He needs me. He needs someone to help shoulder the weight. I can do that.

His soft chuckle rumbles through me and I snap my face up to him. He’s laughing? After all that, he’s laughing at me?

As I peer up at him in astonishment, completely dumbfounded that I’d been such a fool again, to think I was more than his fuck-doll, his hand caress’s my wet cheek. “Do you know why I brought you here, Dalia?”

The smoothness of his voice lures me in, away from the hurt and hate his soft laughter ignited in my chest.

I shake my head. “Why?”

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