I saw a beautiful woman, sitting at the table with the grace of a queen. She was trying hard not to show that she was hurting on the inside when her husband didn’t show up. I am sitting here in a room that smells like booze, and you’re wearing what you wore last night at dinner. Obviously he didn’t come home last night or you wouldn’t have drunk yourself to sleep. This has happened before hasn’t it?’ he asked perceptively. Della’s lower lip quivered as she attempted to hold back a fresh batch of tears. His gentle words broke through her cool barrier. He took her hand in his, and she tried to snatch it away but he held on to it firmly. ‘You deserve better than that Della. I looked at you last night and I said to myself, here’s a girl that deserves the world. If she were mine, I would move heaven and earth to try and get it for her, and I would never stand her up.’ He said softly. The tears streamed down her face freely then. She couldn’t stop them if she wanted to and here she was. He could still hear the crackling of fire. He could still smell the ash and soot.He stumbled as his memories came back. A figure was there. The princess and – something else. Someone else.The mage. She was there. She was ... frightened. Terrified. Of him.A fireball! The Princess! He dove, unthinking – but only in memory. His life for hers. It was a reasonable trade, made more reasonable by the fact he wanted to die. He needed to die. His own life hurt far too much. The memory of Ardt – of another father – dying was too much to bear.No death. “Be my champion! Please, Yren. Be my champion! Deliver my justice.”Purpose had filled him. He remembered the feeling, the warming sensation of a sudden need.A need which filled him again. Re-filled him. Different ... and yet the same. It called to him, then as now. He couldn’t die. Not yet. He wasn’t allowed. He was needed.He strode on, filled with doubt. The doubt, though, was secondary to the need. It was secondary to the anger. Purpose filled.
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