A small noise slipped unbidden from her lips as the Elephant King returned her gesture, his wide muzzle warm against her soft skin. She breathed him in; the waving grasses and daytime heat of the plains, cool mist and whipping winds on a cliffside, a grassland general and a forest monarch, blood and sweat and passion comingling in his soul. With each exhale, she took a piece of him with her.

She cradled those tiny, glowing bits of him. She kissed each one with everything she could muster and prayed that there was enough of her to return the favor. She would place them in the threadbare remains of her own heart

And she would guard them with her life.

He retreats from her touch, if only by an inch and the dove watches the flickering behind his eyes. Briefly, worry settles over her. Had she asked too much of him? Had she hurt him in her curiosity? Lips parted, an apology perched upon the tip of her tongue like so many pleas for pardon, "Mfalme..." But her regrets were silenced as the deep tenor of his voice broke the short silence.

At the mention of Dorobo - at the knowledge they held of the pleasure houses - Orithia had to resist dipping her head in shame and instead forced her chin higher; she would not let her defilement claim her now. Jaw clenched, she let the horror of her Elephant King's past unfold. Muscles tensed and brows creased at his admissions - his mate, his child, his entire universe burned to the ground and he was left alone to fill his lungs with smoke.

How he must have choked on that acrid fog as he lowered them into the earth; twin graves left unnamed and unknown amid a sea of loss. 

Breath hitched and her heart stumbled at the break in his voice, at the raw anguish lining his confession. Rage boiled within her veins, flame searing her throat into silence as she watched him, helpless as he fought a battle she couldn't see. The pale maiden shook with the painful fervor of her hatred and she tasted the echo of iron on her tongue - Dorobo was not all that far and their warriors were not all that strong.

If there came a day that her Elephant King no longer needed her, the blushed woman would burn the forsaken plains and all their bloodwashed children into oblivion. The seed of depravity had been sown by the forefathers of Dorobo and the earth was due to be purged of their influence. Of their very existence.

Tembovu had made Makutano fall, she knew this in her bones, but what was one more clean sweep, a final elimination of the wretchedness that dwelled there? She would avenge the future that they had destroyed.

But - the tale had shifted to the present, to Helovia and the pain he had endured even here. Words of inner demons and conquered gods fell to the frozen earth, a pair of names spoken with painful tenderness and a voice cracking under the weight of its own admission. Orithia's eyes narrowed for a moment, rage billowing and settling upon two identities; Mauja and Rexanna.

Her jaw clenched so hard that she feared her teeth would shatter, but the pain in her mouth was only a small deterrent for her anger - she would see to it that they, too, paid for the hurt they had bestowed on her valiant savior. Did they know? She wondered briefly, did those two know what the Elephant King had endured? Had they not seen the invisible weight that pressed upon those broad, beautiful shoulders at every turn? Did they truly, truly believe that they could just burn their identities and their selfish actions into his heart?

She cut herself short, staring into those cerulean eyes with a fire burning in her belly.

"Shut up." Her voice was the stinging lash of a whip and the frigid breeze that ruffled at her wings was no contest for the ice found in her gaze, "You are better than that, Mfalme Tembo. You are stronger and more substantial than that which marrs your soul. You know this and yet you stand here before me in your pain and in your regret." There was a flame rising within her, the heat forcing its way to the surface in a wave of passion and fervor.

"Listen to me, tamu mkombozi, you are enough. You are the light that guides my steps and that of many others. You are the hope that shines down from our heavens and lets us breathe when the darkness threatens to squeeze the life from our lungs. You are home and I will be damned to the deepest pits of hell before you insult me like that ever again."

Pastel eyes were ablaze - she would be listened to and she would be obeyed.

"Look at me now and pay attention." She made to bump his shoulder with her own, a physical punctuation mark. "On the days our gods forget to ignite the sun, I will be there to light the fire in your heart, mfalme tembo. I will be there to fan your flames until there is nothing left of me and until the light is gone from this world and the next."

Her blood sang songs for him, lullabies for the lives lost and of the home shattered; but somewhere in the crooning melody, it blossomed for the future and the dreams it held.