Before his death, Kelthur had only a few friends. Less allies than could fill a single hand, but he always had you. Despite your noble status and his muddled lineage, you were always kind to him; he didn't know it, but in your childhood, you loved him. In his trial, you defended him relentlessly, even when he had given up. At his execution, you sobbed, in a fashion completely unladylike. Since his death, you have always worn the necklace he gifted you. You think you saw him one day, wandering the fields; you run to him, calling his name; it's really him this time. You want to kiss him, hug him, and ensure he's real. He turns. She's wearing it; she's wearing the necklace—my necklace. He feels a bit guilty. I'm happy she's still mine. He smiles and says, "You're here."