I have loved so hard

that it broke my heart—

“Shut up.” The lash of her words comes harshly, the sting deeply felt on the rawness of his spilled past— so tender and exposed were his sins to her blushed judgement that his thick hide and muscle actually flinch beneath the sharpness of her tone. How long it been since another’s mere words had made him flinch? Since he was an oversized colt?

But flinch he does, and his head turns away, no longer wanting to look at the wrathful rose, the waridi jangwa, that held so much of him— so precariously on her thorns. A deep breath expands his barrel, and he keeps it in his vast lungs, waiting, eyes slipping close as horrors of his past and failures of his present threaten to swamp him.

“You are better than that, Mfalme Tembo.” And his eyes open, the air leaving his lungs in relief as she trades thorns for the silken, but sturdy, feathers of a njiwapavu— lifting him. Not absolving his sins (for none could do that), but giving vindication to the scars on his soul— releasing him of a least some of their guilt.

The passion in her voice leaks into his ears, her candid intensity pooling its warmth around the shackles of icy fear that had entombed his heart that fateful night he incinerated Mauja. Her words, her sentiments, her conviction, they glowed warm and steady amid the dark demons. It wasn’t like the flaring rage of his magic. It was different than the unsteady heat of passion. This was consistent, hopeful, and warmly glowing within him.

“You are home and I will be damned to the deepest pits of hell before you insult me like that ever again.” The smallest of half-grins crossed his face— not because he found her words amusing. No. But because her dove-winged words buoyed him up. To be someone’s home, to be the good rather than the destruction— the thought (the realization) pushed a small smile across his thick lips.

His shoulder instinctively leans into her own as she bumped against him. “Look at me now and pay attention.” It was rare that the Elephant King took orders, but at that moment, he did, shifting his great mass out from beneath her wing and facing her as she spoke. Navy eyes deeply and closely watching the rose-tinted face. “On the days our gods forget to ignite the sun, I will be there to light the fire in your heart, mfalme tembo.” He could not allow her to finish, neck reaching out, lips parting and aiming tag a mouthful of her silken hair and braids. He tried to roughly pull her against him, his chest colliding with hers, as his neck engulfed her own; his great skull fitting between her wings, jaw resting on one while his lips tickled her spine, “Njiwapavu, you have given me more than you know,” was his fierce, hoarse whisper.

Tightly he held her, the Elephant and his dove.