Page 44 of Plaything of the Dark Elf

Etheron

My heart beats faster than it has in any battle.

War comes so easy to me. Violence is my native language. All I know is conflict. Or so I thought.

This woman brings a new conflict I never imagined. One that rages inside the depth of my heart, pitting me against my darkest self, and it’s for the highest of stakes. Myself.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” I whisper. Even in this safe haven, fear constricts my words. I can’t be seen or even heard confessing what’s in my heart, let alone to a human.

Gazing into her emerald eyes, her smooth skin in my hand, I can’t help but fight the safety she exudes. Is it real? Can such a haven exist?

She makes me hesitate, second guess myself, and on the battlefield, a second of hesitation means certain death. It’s no different in the city. Politics, society. They’re all battlefields we live in. Treachery and betrayal are my neighbors. I need to defend, protect, preserve.

But that’s not what Dalia makes me want.

Her light is like the sun, giving the vine of my life strength to grow.

And if she’s the sun, the black cloud in my mind is nowhere to be found, powerless against her. Goodness radiates from her beauty, and I’m sure that I’m right to think she was touched by the Mother.

My own mother was certainly touched by the goddess. No one could deny that. She taught me that beauty wasn’t only what the world could see. Beauty took many forms. The flowers in the garden, the lightning in the sky, the smile of a woman, but it was also a thing of the heart. Inner beauty that spills out into the world, inspires others to be as beautiful. While magic can change our outer beauty, only our hopes and desires can change what resides inside us.

Father had always been intensely focused on turning me into the perfect heir for his house, his legacy, but Mother, she only wanted to see my smile. Surrounded by pain, ruthlessness and violence, she was a whirlwind of good that matched every vicious act our family committed to others or each other. Till the ultimate vengeance was brought against us.

Peering down at Dalia, my heart constricts. I can’t let that goodness die again. And I can’t let it waste away.

I flex my jaw in one last attempt at holding my tongue, but I fail. “You make me feel things, Dalia — things I don’t want to feel for you, or for anyone.”

The words barely scratch the surface of what wars inside me. You’re supposed to be a disposable distraction. Why can’t you just be a simple human whore? Why are you so much more?

Her eyes tell the story of her own conflict.

Father always said you could see a man’s true fear or hatred in his eyes, while Mother said that there was more in a person’s eyes. ‘Eyes are portals to the heart,’ she’d said once.

Dalia’s heart is as conflicted as mine if her eyes are to be trusted.

Is she wrestling with these same feelings? Is she losing, like me? She has to know these feelings are wrong. We can’t feel this way for one another. It’s forbidden. Isn’t it?

She’s a human, a stubborn slave that wants more than she’s entitled to. I’m a dark elf, an exalted general that’s entitled to everything except what I truly want.

What would mother say if she saw me now? She was never one to judge, but a relationship with a human? Giving my heart to a pale, weak thing like Dalia? Would that be crossing a line in her eyes?

Father would have my head on a spike, but Mother… Part of me is sure that Dalia and Mother would get along. In fact, I think they would have loved one another.

Even as beautiful of a wish as that is, fear creeps down my spine.

It’s not Mother that Dalia would be with, it’s me. The mad batlaz of the army. The ‘most vicious general Vhoig has ever seen.’ A moniker given by the press that had watered downed accounts of my victories.

They were never told of the rivers of blood I created. Orcs, naga, dark elves. None have stood against my rage. None could bolster a defense to stop my swath of destruction. I am the Warrior incarnate. His perfect vessel.

Could Dalia ever truly love someone so terrible? So ruthless? So broken?

Even if she can, do I want to risk that?

A moment ago, I resolved myself to protect her goodness, and yet, am I not the biggest threat? She keeps that black fog from my mind, but for how long? What if it comes back, takes over, and I extinguish the only light in my life?

The thought of coming out of the fog to find Dalia dead stabs at my heart like a blade with a million edges. I can’t let that be her fate. I can’t allow my selfishness to devour her. She’s too precious to be wasted on me.

The war in Dalia’s eyes comes to an end, and a resolve stronger than steel, yet softer than her own lips takes hold. She raises up on her toes while pulling the back of my neck.

---