The House of Vagamor; South of the RealmOlive's POVA week has passed since I saw Orvyn. If anything to go by, our last encounter- the foreplay at the pool- drifted us apart. Everyday, the gulf between us seemed to yawn wider and wider. He would not come to see me as his manner was, and because I'm still his prisoned guest, as he fondly described me, my movement around the keep was restricted.I wake up each day longing to smell the scent of his body; to pass my fingers over the sturdy outline of his frame, and rest my head on his baked chest.One night, I dreamt Orvyn and I sat in a valley of lilies, with twin cubs between us. The boys had the face of Orvyn, but had my eyes and hair colour. There was no father, no war, and no hell barking down on us. The scenery was sunny and perfect, until I woke up wishing it was real.If wishes were horses.But on the flip side, Emilia has been the closest companion I'd had in these couple of weeks. If she wasn't there, I'd have lost my sanity to
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