An Unlikely Bride 7

Rangvaal had an advantage over the wide-open steppes and badlands in that the wind, as revered as it was for a son of the Reach, was far less harsh down on the forest floor. Some of the trees were large enough to park a wagon behind and shelter, they had picked a giant that was so round that his old room in Ivar's Keep would have easily fit inside. This wasn't an exaggeration at all; in forcing himself to be brave he stepped outside and casually paced off the distance from his bed to the bookshelf as he remembered it. He tried to figure out if the tree's roundness would have made a difference, but he concluded it still had room to spare with all four corners sitting inside.

As for it's height, he had absolutely no idea how to gauge that. Looking up at the branches so high above made him want to vomit, it was insane to even think a living thing could be so big.

Kobolds didn't seem to care, like wild boars they rooted around in the dead needles for anything of value as soon as one of them discovered a bluish-green disc that was once a copper coin. Anza joined them and forced him to come along, her hand leading him around as her bare feet scratched and pawed at the needles for hours. Eventually he did the same, sweeping from side to side, it kind of felt like harvest time when every able hand would take to the fields to share in the work.

Somebody once told him that the Reach was seen as primitive and backward for it's ways, for having a king that dug potatoes like a common serf.

So what if they revered the horse, dragon, and cow with great honor? That they closed their eyes with a face into the wind to hear the whispers, wishing with an open heart for a message from their draconic guardian. Southerners didn't understand what it was to have that bond, they couldn't, they worshiped hollow statues and prayed to nothing which is why they sought comfort in the use of magic. Or at least that's what his father told him, he wasn't sure if he believed it. They weren't his people and the sky was everywhere, who protected them from the ancent evil from above?

They wouldn't have survived to see it's banishment, the power of men, gods, and their protector barely had enough to make the blue come back and the twilight to dance alive once more. He reluctantly had to admit that perhaps the gods of the south, west, and east across the mountains helped to save them. Who knew about the lands elsewhere, with men as animals and beasts as kings, they may very well have skies of fear.

His foot uncovered something green, it took him a few seconds to recognize it.

Kneeling down, he brushed away more of the needles and soil to reveal the rest of the skull and it's tattered leather hood. Something about it was wrong, he couldn't figure it out but he did notice that many teeth were missing. Knocked out on purpose, a blow from the left and right, only a pair of incisors in front and the molars remained unmolested.

Looking around he saw rocks stacked in a pattern, five equally spaced from each other and at the same distance from the body.

"This was a murder, a dark ritual," he remarked, stepping away. "We should return."

"Not find--" He turned her to face him.

"We are going, wife," he commanded. Looking around and up at the wooden giants he whispered, "it is not safe here, only the wind knows the evil that remains."

Everyone knew to avoid ritual sites, especially the kind with remains still there. They were portals to another realm, another world, where forgotten demons of unspeakable evil roamed and the awful souls of this world were sent. Such power came with dark temptation for those of weak morals and no honor, it made evil sorcerers and witches seek out and prey upon the unsuspecting and simple folk of the land.

Drums.

Anza froze in terror. "Husband," she whispered.

He didn't hesitate at all, with a strong heave he lifted his wife up and sprinted away from the source.

-------------------------------------------------

They said nothing to anyone for the rest of the day, only under their heavy furs did they find sweet comfort in each other. However wonderful that might have been their sleep was restless, violent, they kept waking up to whispers and sounds in the forest that also affected the animals. Shadows and shapes in the dark faded in, distant screams and ethereal laughter occasionally woke the camp, but it was the soft moaning and loud whispers that finally provoked a response. Fires and torches were lit while Ruran and one of the elves got to work suspending balls of light from the trees up high.

On a whim the spellsword fired one off into the night. The forest erupted into bloodcurdling screams.

Nobody dared to leave the borders of the camp at all, Anza and Thonvar sat in terrified silence together as they watched a pair of red eyes stare at them in the distance. That time somebody else noticed too, the reachman shuddered as he almost wished it had been him losing his mind, but at least he knew they were being stalked. By what, he didn't know, but whatever it was was not of this world.

It came with the evil in the sky, he remained vigilant until dawn when the darkness was washed away by the sun's holy light. Morning's meal was not jovial, Thonvar remained outwardly brave for Anza, but inside he suffered the twisting knot of fear and he wished he knew relief. Honor demanded he remain brave and so he was, his wife seemed to appreciate it, but it also attracted some of her kin near them. That wasn't his intent at all, he resigned himself to his fate when it was clear that she welcomed their presence.

First came Khezde and Kix, their little donkey cart was easily relocated while he had been fetching a basin of stew, but soon some others joined as well.

One of them, definitely a male, was decorated in bits and pieces of metal repurposed into a mail hauberk. Some of it seemed to follow a pattern, the bits of actual armor plate in overlapping plates on his chest and back, but it seemed like the craftsman just gave up or ran out of material elsewhere. That one introduced himself as simply "Zan." He was colored much like Anza, but his eyes were yellow-orange and he had an impressive array of horns instead of the feminine lobes of flesh that linked their horns to their jaws; it made him look fierce.

Another, a more brownish-colored one with sad-looking gray and pink eyes, made a point to sit right next to the human with her back against his arm. She said nothing to him, he didn't think she could speak Naethic at all, but Anza tolerated her presence and physical proximity so he did as well. She seemed young, but experienced in all the ways the world could be terrible and he did feel for her in that aspect, but it was her muteness that appealed to him the most. That told him a lot about her, it let him know that they might have plenty in common.

Maybe a few weeks ago he wouldn't have cared about that, but his heart was apparently big enough to have kobolds in it.

"Husband," Anza sighed, standing up on her toes, "get."

He looked up as he rose to his feet. "Shovel? Pick? Oh, the sack," he muttered, unhooking it from it's high perch. "Sorry."

"Forgive," she giggled, patting his available backside. Rifling through the contents she eventually withdrew a roll of leather. "Give Khezde?"

"I don't care, wife."

Why would he? It was a whole piece Anza had ripped from a dead bandit's armor. She had saved a lot of that sort of stuff, he might have been more appreciative of her hoarding habits if they had the space to store things. As it was, the wagon was covered in pouches and sacks full of things most people threw away if they couldn't barter them.

Once the gifting was done, he was rewarded with a kiss for his obedience. "Khezde get," she tried to mime something with her hands, "husband help?"

"Help get mushrooms for old Khezde," the older female corrected, quickly chattering to his wife in their language. "Make potion."

"You're an alchemist?" he asked, blinking in surprise. "I did not know kobolds had magic-users."

She looked at him in confusion, then at Anza.

"Husband help Khezde," his wife declared, looking over at his sword. "Take, protect."

-------------------------------------------------

They left shortly after informing the rest of the group, but he was warned not to take too long. Drond swore he wouldn't leave, and the donkey cart was Khezde's own, and Zan's original wagon apparently had promised to linger if the others took off. Not that they would, he thought, they needed him to keep repairing things and the chief wasn't about to leave his daughter in the forest.

Yet he didn't want to linger, as soon as they were out of sight of the camp he became hyper-vigilant and aware of all the odd noises a forest had made. Those trees, loud and terrifying, were a constant presence as they swayed and bumped against one another in the winds high above. Khezde didn't waste time, her figure was hunched over as she darted around and began collecting anything she could like some sort of greedy rat; he almost laughed at the sight. Mushrooms were not the only item of her focus, more than once she plucked a length of bark off a tree and gleefully gathered up any bug that she could catch.

Rocks were also an object of interest, every one was inspected for whatever it was she needed and the useless ones discarded over her shoulder. One she bashed hard against another to reveal it contained a crystalline beetle that her skillful claws dispatched and tossed still squirming in the basket. A bird's nest also attracted her interest, she was a flurry of excited movement and he had trouble keeping track of her and where they were.

Curiosity didn't help.

"Why do you pick up the rocks?" he finally asked.

"Powders. Khezde smash, make powder. Powder for potions, poisons, for drinkings and hurtings."

"I did not know rocks contained magic."

She looked back at him with a scowl.

"Human, this wood has curse of evil, evil bring magic, magic flow into all thing, this why good to pick after evil come. You learn this, human, not afraid like other human hide in house, hide in big city!"

"I see," he muttered, not sure he should be taking much advice from a kobold witch. "Are these woods always evil? Or are all woods evil?"

"Human stupid question, something make the evil in this place come," she hissed, going back to her gathering.

His blood went cold when he heard those words, his memory flashing back to the incident before. If something happened to the group it would be his fault, their fault since Anza was there too, they really shouldn't have gone that far out like that. Had they been smart, a hard task for kobolds, they wouldn't have been wandering the forest like fools and disturbing portals to demonic realms! Then none of this would be happening, he would probably still be in his warm bed with his wife slumbering away. Or even better, awake with a certain need of hers needing to be filled.

What an awful day so far, he was tired, cranky, and didn't want to be following some kobold around while she plucked mushrooms and chased magical bugs that lived in rocks. He was so tired that the magical bugs didn't even surprise him! Of all the things that--

A creaking noise made his hair stand on end.

He turned slowly and blinked, at first his eyes didn't believe it. A skeletal figure was standing there off to his right, black ichor had stained the cracks and fissures in it's structure, marking where tooth met bone in it's cracked jaw. All up and down it the fluid had congealed into sticky masses linking the bones at the joints, all the while shimmering with a faint purple glow that he couldn't exactly see but instead could feel. Then it raised it's arm, a rusted hand axe in it's bony grip, it took a posture as if it were ready to throw.

Dots were connected. Khezde would be slain soon.

Panic rose in his throat and his being burned with hot emotion, terror fought his better senses and finally gave up as his bravery pushed forward with a loud, "NO!"

No.

No was a word of denial, of stopping, it implied a certain order to things. Change was stopped by a loud "no." Even as a boy he knew the word had a power all it's own, when a man said it he could utter that single syllable with such resounding force that it shook terror into grown men and young bastards like himself.

All that was, a strange concept, shifted ever so slightly with a suddenness that almost made him forget that there was an old way before.

No. Khezde jumped in shock and the skeleton shuddered from the invisible blow.

He drew his gilded sword and took a stance, the skeleton focused it's attention on him with a slow, groaning turn. Waddling toward him, the undead warrior raised the rusted axe as if it were charging across a field into an opposing enemy line, each footstep carrying it harder and harder. Click, clack, click, clack. Groans of the raw joints might as well been a war cry, it's valiant charge carried it with a small spring right before Thonvar sliced the skull in two.

The flicker of light inside the skull exploded with a small pop and the ichor burst into evaporated dust as the bones fell to his feet.

"Go back to the wagons," he commanded.

Khezde blinked and nodded, scurrying past him.

-------------------------------------------------

"Corrick, you grew up in Stillwind, the mages there ever talk 'bout bones rising from the dead?"

Looking at the spellsword, the spearman shrugged and replied, "one time when me da was a babe a summoner kilt himself tha' way."

"How?" Thonvar asked, running a stone along his knife. "There was no mage nearby, it rose from the forest and attacked."

"Aye, tha's wha' I mean, man makes a dark sacrifice an' somethin' came out, made every pile o' bones in the wood come on up. Fuckin' zombie rabbits in me gran's garden."

Despite how awful that sounded, Thonvar had to laugh. "I'll keep on watch for rabbits."

Corrick looked off into the woods and muttered, "aye, look for bears too. Still close to the Reach, I'd reckon a few sabercats died in these 'ere woods."

Those rising from the dead was a terrible thought, the stuff of nightmares to be more accurate. Defeating them would take some skill, if the head was the weak point then it would mean waiting until the cat was in the middle of a pounce to make the kill. Or rather, simply hacking it down to a more appropriate size before bashing the head in.

"Only faced a skeleton once," Ruran began, making a spell dance from his fingers, "some fool necromancer tried to jump us in the woods. I'll tell you now, my magic was almost useless against 'em. Had to use my trusty pig-sticker here, the other guy, some elven hydromancer, laughed and laughed when I made one levitate. Thought it was real funny that's all I had."

"Wha, you can't shoot water from yer fingers?" Corrick laughed.

"No, but I'll leak ale from my flat tits if you pay me a copper."

Both the other men laughed.

"There was a bar maid in the road tavern, back at the keep," Thonvar began. "Always used to splash mead on herself, sometimes I think she did it on purpose."

Ruran grinned. "Was she the one with the big tits and the braids?"

"No, that's Ingrud, I meant the pretty one with the--" he was interrupted by a pounce from behind. "Wife."

"Husband shut up," she declared, putting her hand over his mouth. "Anza only husband think."

"Uh oh, wife's taken over," the spellsword laughed. "Best mind yourself, she's got a set of teeth on her."

Anza grinned wide, showing off the topic of conversation before turning her attention back to her husband. He didn't move, but she had to use both hands to cover up his growing smirk.

Corrick chuckled. "Aye, anyhow I knows the one, Svena is her name."

"Fine-looking woman there, a man could settle down if he came home to that every night," Ruran mused. "Surprised she isn't spoken for, I'd reckon every man in the Reach would be lining up to have a shot at wedding that."

"Sorry, Thonvar, but there ain't much to be looked at in your homeland," Corrick admitted, his eyes on Anza.

Thonvar shrugged.

"No offense meant, but a kobold's a step up from that one... What was her name... The fat one with the hammers, where was that?" Ruran asked, looking over at Corrick.

"I'unno, some town on the way to Ivarshold," the spearman guessed, "Jarl Galdar or somethin' was her da, the elf was askin' 'bout you, she kept goin' on an' on."

That immediately caught Thonvar's attention, he turned and scowled at the southerner. Ulga was her name and she had very good reason to be excited about him, his father had apparently suggested a marriage and that was all she talked about. Besides her collection of warhammers, she loved those things, said they could kill any man on horseback if swung right. Since she constantly practiced the art of knocking things off of high shelves, she made sure to demonstrate her training technique to him, he believed she might have been able to do it.

Well of course the damned knife-ear would use a fool like that to get to know him, only honest people got to know each other the "primitive" way. Or however the poncy elf would say it.

Ruran glanced over at his colleague and muttered, "aye, sounds like somebody else I know."

A horn up ahead blared.

Both of them let out a dejected sigh and took off in a steady jog, leaving the northman alone with his wife and her wide eyes. He didn't need to be an expert to guess that she wanted to know more, but it was a relief seeing that interest in her. Something was going on with those damned mer, somehow they would find out all about it.

Anza kissed him as her arms slipped around his neck. "Anza like Thonvar talk."

"You like that I talk to people?"

She nodded. "Good for husband."

Right. With a roll of his eyes he replied, "you're the only person I ever need to talk with, wife. I rarely want to talk to anyone, but it is easier with you."

"Why?"

He shrugged and looked down at the road. "I have made myself trust you, you said you were forced into this and have been warm with me. Kind. I respect your devotion. You are a good wife. A good husband trusts his wife, tells her what he needs, honor demands that I am a good husband."

When he glanced at her he could see that she was apprehensive about something.

"I remember what you said. How we would be the best, I took that seriously. It is my guide in all things now, I will be the best I can for you."

"Anza be best for Thonvar," she said quickly, cradling his head in her hands. "Always best."

He blinked and smiled. "That is good, I would hope that you feel as I do."

"Thonvar never forget Anza tell be best," she said adamantly. "Not forget ever. Yes?"

With a confused chuckle he took her hands and kissed her. "I promise I won't forget. If I do, remind me. Promise?"

She nodded quickly.

"Good, I am glad we've settled that," he laughed, still unsure of what was going on. "You are strange sometimes, it makes me think often."

Shaking her head she wormed her way under his arms, her hands still in his, until she planted her backside in his lap with his arms around her. Tail complications made her shift to one side to release it, finally getting herself in a position she enjoyed while Thonvar patiently waited. They must have been difficult at times, but he had to admit it was a fun thing to grab and play with when they were... Spending time together. As husband and wife. He blushed when he remembered their fun in the tavern, but put the thought out of his mind.

"Air feels good," he remarked as they crested the hill. "Wind smells like rain."

"Yes, husband," she mumbled, leaning back to rest against him. "Anza like."

"I don't. I hate being wet unless I'm in a bath."

A giggle escaped her throat. "Anza take husband go water," she said as she mimicked a swimming motion. "Husband go."

"That is different than rain, it is like bathing. I am fine with swimming."

Somehow he sensed that he had walked into a trap, she twisted herself to look up at him with a suggestive grin and alluring eyes. They had been together long enough for him to identify those immediately, it had the effect of catching his full attention.

"What Anza think, Thonvar?" she purred, resting against him on her elbow. "Tell Anza this."

"We were talking about swimming, I said it's like bathing, I will guess that my wife wants to get me naked again."

"Husband very smart," she said with mock seriousness.

As she turned around he wrapped his arms around her and remarked, "there are worse fates for a man than to have an eager wife."

"Anza know big water," she explained, snuggling into his embrace. "Take husband, make eats, tell Anza thinking, mount Anza, have very much pleasure. Hold Anza, go sleep. Good, yes?"

He laughed at her blunt explanation as he watched the road moving away from them. "I am glad my clever wife has planned it all out. What shall we eat?"

"Mmmm... Bacons, chickens, beefs, drink of ale."

"Nothing else? No bread? Cheese? Not even a potato?" he teased, earning a swat to his leg for it. "At least some potatoes, with butter. That goes good with beef."

"Husband want 'tato? Husband get. Anza smart."

"Yes, very much," he said with genuine honesty. "I'm glad you think of me."

"Always, husband."

-------------------------------------------------

They traveled onward until nightfall, but it seemed that they had left the evil of the previous night behind them. Order in the wagons had been shifted; Khedze moved her wagon behind theirs, followed by Zan's, which put them only fifth to last in the train. An interesting change in the dynamic, but ultimately pointless, the camping situation put Khedze next to Drond's lean-to and Zan boxed in the other side which gave their driver a nice little fort of comfort. As an extra security measure, Anza made sure to find a better flap for the rear of the wagon so her husband would feel like he had privacy.

None of this was talked about, she just did it and made sure he saw what she was doing. How could he not appreciate such devotion? His heart soared as he blushed, the northman had no idea what to do about her kindness! Instead of fumbling over stupid words he set out and waited toward the front of the line with plates and platters in hand, making sure the cooks plopped down hearty servings of the evening meal that he carried back to his wife and the others. They rushed him, but he made sure the largest, most meaty plate went to his Anza.

Kix looked like she was about to faint when he did that, the kobolds chattering in their ugly language with enthusiasm. Yes, he supposed he could soak up some praise without feeling too shameful. Satisfied, he climbed in with her and they enjoyed their delicious meal in silence and only broken by her adoring kisses and affectionate pawing.

It was a good thing they spent most of their time eating, a cold wind battered their wagon and they snuggled together for warmth and slept well for it, they woke it was to a cold storm of lightning and rain. Drond was kind enough to bring them a morning meal after they took care of personal needs, trying their best to avoid catching a chill. Their luck was not that good, the little kobold shivered as she planted her rump between his legs and leeched precious warmth while he fed her. Thonvar laughed as he realized Drond, bundled up and protected, was faring better under his meager awning than they were inside the dry wagon.

So again their clothes were discarded, he wasn't thrilled with being vulnerable but it was more comfortable than shivering in soaked rags.

For distraction he pulled out the map and draped them one of the wool blankets, a vial of magical light shaken to life to illuminate the parchment surface. His estimation put them near the town of Munvangr, the symbol to denote the presence of a wall marked just underneath. That would put them a considerable distance from the border if they reached it, not terrible progress for how long they had been traveling given all the break-downs.

"Kobolds," he muttered, his hands running up her shivering, lukewarm chest. "I do not understand your people."

She twisted and looked up at him. "Tell Anza."

"Your kind never think ahead, it is either now or the horizon, never where is necessary."

Even without her scowl he could tell that angered her, but she said nothing. At least he had access to her, she didn't dare exile him again in a foolish fit of rage. Abusing this access, he cupped the little nodules of fat that did their best to emulate breasts and let his grip soothe her draconic temper. Of course she resisted, she was cold and offended, but he had learned she enjoyed being the center of his attention and the object of his desires. Slowly she melted back into him, his hand ran down her abdomen that had lost it's roundness and was back to being inviting.

As it traveled her legs parted, she gasped when he crossed the threshold and slipped down toward the prize. Warmth had returned to them and her breathing had sped up as he teased her, she whined and tried to force the issue with a two-handed grip on his wrist. Instead he cupped his hand over her and massaged hard, she shuddered and tried to reach behind to provoke more of what she wanted. With a gasp she caught him springing up with her chest, a slap of skin on scales made her giggle as she fumbled for it.

There wasn't hesitation on her part, she enthusiastically buried the thing in her throat and worked him with her slick tongue. When he moved she bit down in warning, he froze and let her work his length until she felt satisfied enough to release it with a slobbery lick. He wanted more of it, the feeling of her hot breath on him, the constriction of her tongue, it was almost as intoxicating as her skillful maneuvers designed to satisfy.

Yet that wasn't all she could do, with a happy smile she climbed up and pressed the slicked tip against her waiting folds. Then, maddeningly, she lingered there for a few seconds as she watched his expression shift from pleased to needy. Except she didn't deny him, her eyes rolled back as she took the length in it's entirety with a satisfied sigh.

"Thonvar not know what Anza think," she finally retorted, grinning as she twisted her hips to force herself down further. "Close eyes."

He did exactly that.

"Husband feel," she whispered, gripping him hard just the way he liked. "Mount Anza good."

Yes, yes it was.

"Husband so big," she breathed, still tight on him as she rolled her hips with a thrust. "Big for wife, strong, good male."

His hands came up to grip her by the hips as she began her slow movements, tilting her hips forward, using her torso for leverage to lift up his length and finishing with a passionate buck on the way down. All the while her skilled muscles choked the invading flesh, throbbing hard as his heart pounded in his chest. She could feel it too, he knew she could, her hand found it's way above the drumming and her palm pressed flat as she enjoyed her husband's physique.

"Feel this?" she asked.

Suddenly the grip shifted into... It felt like swallowing, like she was trying to take him deeper every time she withdrew. His grip tightened on her and she helped position his hands more appropriately, a content sigh as he grabbed healthy handfuls of kobold rump. That's what she liked, feeling him want her, he thought of her desire for him as she moved, focusing on the deliciously powerful motions around him.

"Think of in Anza, husband," she cooed, giggling as he nodded. "Feel," she gasped, "soft wife give to husband."

He moaned softly, his mind doing as commanded. Her folds a gateway to a garden of carnal delight, every inch of her inside pushed against him, tugged on him, stroked and teased, her body was under assault and it would beat the invader. Him. An involuntary flex at the right time made him throb and surge against her motions, the electric vibration up his spine was a pleasure shared with his exotic wife.

Shuddering hard he almost lost his mind at the thought, that the being on top of him was his alone to enjoy. How that made the sensations all the more wonderful he didn't know, but he couldn't resist gasping out for the breath that she stole.

"Husband deep in Anza, big husband," she breathed, twisting her hips around to tease his length in a new way. "Husband like?"

"Yes... Yes, Anza, please--"

"Shh, good husband," his wife gasped, hands running over his muscled chest. "Think in soft wife, eggs wait."

Yes, yes there were those there. His grip tightened as his loins twisted with apprehension and need.

No secrets between them, she knew what he needed. "Husband take Anza, strong," she softly moaned, her pace beginning to quicken. "Give Anza."

There wasn't anything he wanted more at that moment, his mind was being controlled by his alluring wife and she needed to be filled. He thought of her body, her waiting womb, eggs ready to be sown with his creamy seed, he just couldn't take it anymore. He tried to breathe, but his body needed more air than his lungs could give, he panted out with heavy breaths as she rode him more and more into bliss.

"Good husband, come on," she giggled, petting his strained face. "Be strong for wife."

"I'm going to--"

She doubled on her efforts and really began to work him, he couldn't stand it. It was too much. All he could do is hold on to that glorious backside and breathe, she kept thrusting faster and faster until the knot broke. His back arched as his body squirmed and jerked, his ears full of her rich, satisfied giggle as thick ropes of his precious seed surged deep inside her. She took it all, took him, his mind imagined her eggs splashed with it, drowned in his masculine gift to his adoring wife. He almost forgot that she enjoyed it too, only reminding him as she held on in her final motions with a gasping cry to him.

"Thank you, husband," she murmured, shuddering with delight as he held her close.

They breathed together for several minutes before he slid down, unable to continue on in his semi-sitting position. This suited the kobold, she made a few final motions inside to milk him clean before withdrawing, climbing up for a long, sensual kiss.

He had to break it sooner than later, he still hadn't caught his breath. "That was amazing," he gasped, petting the tougher scales of her back. "How did... How did you know? What to say?"

She shrugged and then laughed, kissing his bare chest. "Kobold male want make egg, Anza think human male want."

"I want children, yes," he admitted. "I think of it often. You would make a fine mother."

The compliment made her radiate with happiness, she wiggled against him with another kiss.

"As these days go on I consider myself lucky many times, thinking of you."

"Anza too. Elf hate."

The comment caught him completely off-guard, he had to roll back and relive it in his head to understand it. Why did the elves really care about how happy they were? He just suspected they had set them up to fail, even at their worst he didn't expect either of the mer to be that petty. Were they?

"What do you mean?" he asked with growing curiosity.

Despite that she denied him, shaking her head and sighing. "Anza hate elfe. Big hate."

"Me too," he muttered, snuggling her in their afterglow.

He really did.