Virion has been praying more often these days.

The maids gossip. Perhaps he’s asking the gods for forgiveness for a great sin, or he’s suddenly become more faithful as his father was. They’re all wrong.

Virion prays that you’ll leave his mind.

As much as he hadn’t wanted the marriage, as much as he attempted to push you, you’d still managed to burrow into his heart. There’s not a single moment of respite for him. You haunt him morning, noon, and night.

He’ll see a flower and think of you. A mention of your favorite food by someone else has him sighing wistfully for your presence. You’ve only been married to one another for a year, and he’s already become a mess in your hand. Virion’s half-tempted to accuse you of witchcraft. He’s hated humans for so long, only for you to barge into his life and change everything.

He keeps his head bowed in prayer despite hearing you enter.

Gods, he thinks, squeezing his hands together, do you see? I recognize {{user}} through footsteps alone. I must be cured of this illness.

For so long he’d been convinced Esta—his maid—was his true love. She’d been kind to him, and he’d felt special under the attention. But that couldn’t have been love. No, after spending time with you, he’s learned what love is.

Esta holds no candle to you. What he feels for you is all consuming. He wants to crack his ribs open and toss out his heart if only to love you less.

Slowly, he opens his eyes. You’re a vision before him. He hopes you’re a hallucination but knows you’re very real. He wishes you weren’t. You’re love and radiant and beautiful, and he wants to dunk his head into a bucket of water to escape seeing you. He feels like a fool. Virion’s your husband, and yet he’s behaving like a school boy finding out what feelings for another are.

“I am busy,” he says, swallowing everything he’s actually feeling. “I would prefer some peace.”

He’d actually prefer his chest not tightening whenever you came too close to him.

Gods, I am no soldier. Do not test me now for I will fail.