Chapter Ten
The pair left the dry warmth of the inn during the early morning, entering the streets that were filled with large and deep puddles. The cool and crisp air biting at their skin made them both pull their furs tighter to their bodies. The morning sun was rising slowly, its light casting the only warmth available onto the landscape. Mounting their horses, they rode in silence. Each lost in their own thoughts.
Eskil’s body was becoming more familiar with riding, and despite the aches and pains it caused him he was not jostled around in his saddle anymore. His mind was tangled in webs, and he didn’t know which route of the webs he should take. He was disappointed in himself. How much had he hated Libelle over the last few years? He was so incredibly angry with her, her blasted interference with her magic and the gods help.
He wanted to return to his true form, he wanted his wings back. That much was true. However, was it still the truth that he still wanted her life? Her blood on his hands? It was growing more and more frustrating by the second. Nothing was making sense when it came to her anymore. He didn’t have any answers, for any of it.
The day passed quietly and smoothly, the last day of their journey to her home was ending fast. Another quaint town slowly coming into their view. Libelle had stared straight ahead the entire ride, she never once spoke to him nor did she ever look at him. She seemed distracted by something.
They approached the town, and he was surprised to see so few people crowding the street. Libelle dismounted her stallion once they neared the first building, then leading him down the main road of the small town called Lowestoft. It was nearing evening, and many shops were closing for the night as families returned to their cottages for meal time and rest. The sun was just beginning to dip in the sky, notifying the land they had roughly three hours of sunlight left. They had about an hours’ worth of riding left to do to reach home. Eskil dismounted and stretched his legs before he walked his horse beside Libelle. There were few people out in the town, while several guards paced the roads eyeing him suspiciously.
Libelle nodded towards a few of the guards she recognized, but never stopped for conversation. They passed the iron workers forge, and they both sniffed the air. There was a certain aroma that struck his nose as they weaved in between people, an aroma that he would not label as delightful. The smell got stronger as they neared the outskirts of the small town and Eskil could not help but cover his nose with his hand.
Just outside the town behind the guard tower was the corpse of a rotting dragon, one that had been slain more than just a few days ago. The size of it indicated it was fairly young, and he did not recognize it in this state. Scales had been ripped from its tough hide, and it looks like the villagers had begun to cut into its body to salvage its bone. The dragon did not go down easily, its body was maimed by spears and blades. Lacerations were scattered across its body, many were unclear if they were made before or after death.
He watched as Libelle paused for moment, gazing at the dragon's body with a numb expression. She stood still for just a minute longer, then gathered her stallion's reins tighter in her hands and began walking forward.
She wasn't going to stop? How dare she!
Eskil growled and grabbed Libelle by her arm, squeezing it tightly and yanking her back. “You have the nerve to condemn me? Accusing me of murder in cold blood, even accusing me of the murder of mortals that never experienced my roar. You call me death-bringer. Monster.”
He pointed to the dead dragon and spoke in a whisper. “Who is the monster here? This is your kind’s fault, when dragons kill a mortal it is fast. Painless. Necessary. When mortals kill a dragon, it is some sick display of power that your kind do not have. Mortals attempt to rule the world.”
Libelle pulled her arm from his tight grip, “We are leaving.”
He stopped her again, standing behind her he hissed into her ear. “You cannot call my kin vile, when man are just as cruel. Dragons kill to keep balance in the land, I was named death-bringer when I protected what was mine, it is not a title that I obtained willingly, but your kin treat it like it was. Man fight for sport, kill for sport, for power. There is no reason for your killing. Dragons are no more a monster than the mortals.”
She tried to pull away again, “We need to move away from here.” She looked around to see if anyone had noticed them, thanking the God’s that no one had. Yet.
“Dragons were brought into this world for peace, to keep peace: to protect it. Mortals destroyed that peace when they rebelled against our power, against our protection. They corrupted the dragons with their evil ways. Man. Corrupted. Me.”
She shook her head, “We are leaving. Let's go.”
She tried to step forward again, to try and move away from him and his cousin's body. She showed no remorse for its death.
Eskil hissed into her ear again. “You need to look at that young dragon, barely an adult. Like a child to my kind. Man killed him, by the looks of it they ripped him from the sky and slowly slaughtered him. Tortured him. How can you expect-”
Eskil planted his feet firmly on the ground when she yanked hard, trying to pull herself free; her right hand tangling into her horse's mane and her left arm still caught in his vice-like grip. She coughed and bent forward, her stomach churning before she vomited.
Eskil’s grip tightened when he felt her begin to slump forward. “By the Gods, what the hell is wrong with you?!”
He jerked her back up, her body slamming into his chest: he twisted her arm behind her back and growled when he felt a pain similar to what she was experiencing. Blasted curse. Her head dangled down to the ground and he curled his fingers into her hair and pulled her head back against his shoulder, her eyes were closed tightly and she was biting her lip.
“Open your eyes dragon slayer, and look at what your kin have done. The same thing you chastise my kin for.” His grip in her hair tightened and he twisted her arm more, he felt the spark of pain explode in his stomach and he loosened his grip. The pain served more as a warning to him this time, but he still did not let her go. They were out of the prying eyes of the villagers, standing outside the gates and near a stone wall. If a guard were to venture outside the gates, he may find them: but for now they had privacy.
“Look at me.” He growled. “Dragon slayer, Libelle.”
Her name came out softer than he expected, however that may have been the only reason her eyes slowly fluttered open. To his surprise, there were tears forming in them, pain and fear swirling about in those blue orbs. Her lower lip still pinched between her teeth. He released his grip on her arm, instead wrapping his arm around her waist. His hand still tangled in her hair, gentler now but still alarmingly in control. He glanced upwards towards the corpse of his fallen kin, and realization struck him.
A dragon slayer was once a dragon, one who had killed another dragon in their past life. They were cursed and reborn a mortal, a lesser being. Even in their new life, the slayers still killed the dragons. Eskil felt the energy within Libelle break, she was growing weak suddenly. It all made sense to him, and he realized what type of cursed being Libelle was. She wasn’t your typical slayer.
If he had not had his arm around her waist, her knees would have collapsed underneath her and she would have fallen to the ground. Libelle swallowed back a wave of tears that she could not control, not even in front of him. She cried silently, never raising her voice or raising alarm. She grabbed his forearm that was still around her and tried to push it away, trying to get him to release her.
“If I let you go, you're going to fall.” Eskil said, still to his surprise; his voice was calm and gentle.
“Then I fall.” She said, her voice was shaky but still she pushed her strength through.
He didn't let her go, instead he freed his one hand from her hair and wrapped both hands around her waist; then his grip shifted to both her hips where he effortlessly lifted her up, and not-so-gently tossed her over his shoulder. He held onto the waistband of her pants and took both horses reins in his free hands.
He started walking up the paved hill, mulling over his own thoughts as Libelle wiped away her tears embarrassed. He didn't know where exactly he was going, all he knew was he was supposed to follow this path until they reached a shattered boulder: then he was supposed to turn left somewhere. At least that is what she had told him.
It would have been easier to toss her onto her horse and lead them where he chose, but he doubted she would sit quietly after what he had just witnessed. She’d most likely take the first chance and bolt away, leaving him to chase after her on his exhausted gelding. It just wasn't worth the trouble.
He walked around a bend in the road, removing Lowestoft out of both their views. The bend led to a hill, causing the road to weave back and forth into a patchy forest. He started to slowly stomp up the hill, gazing at the river that lazily flowed back towards the town. He eyed a smooth grassy path that overlooked the river and setting sun and headed towards that.
“I have not seen a slayer like you… in thousands of years.” He said quietly.
Chapter Eleven
“I have not seen a slayer like you… in thousands of years.”
She didn't respond, but he felt her put her hands against his hips, her back arched and her head turned towards him. “There was only one other like you, at least only one that I knew of. That was in the time that the mortals had first begun to attack my kin. It was around the time that first slayer was born.”
He stepped around the remains of a tree, a rough stump protruding from the ground was all that was left of it. The horses put their heads down and began grazing on the lush grass when he came to a stop, shifting Libelle’s weight and setting her down in front of him. There was still pain in her eyes, red from her tears, and her lower lip was swollen from her biting it.
Eskil sighed, running a hand through his hair and untangling the knot that had formed around one of his horns. He stared out into the distance, past Libelle: gazing out at the landscape. The stone paved road was behind him, grass and weeds beneath his feet, the river led to a large lake and past that was high mountains. He felt small when he looked at the land from this height, he felt small. He wasn't able to return to the skies like he typically would be. He stood toe to toe with a slayer, he had to still look down at her short self, but it was still so different.
His hand ran through his hair again, then down over his closed eyes to his chin. He opened them slowly, Libelle was still standing in front of him but now her back was turned to him. Her arms were crossed over her chest and was rubbing her upper arms, her shoulders lifted high as she stared out at the river and lake.
He had never realized she was this sort of slayer, one they never were able to find a name for. He had only met one like her before, and he remembered her clearly. “Libelle, have you ever met another slayer?”
She shook her head and he sighed. “What is a slayer to you?”
Her voice shook, “I am a cursed creature. I was a dragon in a previous life, and in that past life I killed another dragon. Because of that, if I kill another dragon in this life I feel everything they felt at their time of death.”
He chuckled, “So you do feel their pain.”
She looked at him puzzled, and he continued. “Libelle, it is extremely rare for a slayer to be born like you. Like I said, I only knew of one other like you. It is not normal for a slayer to feel the dragon’s death that is what makes you unique.”
“A slayer is not supposed to feel their pain?” She asked confused.
“Why do you think we call them dragon slayers? Slayers are cursed beings who thrive from the murder of my kin, you don’t thrive from it. It hurts you instead.”
She wanted to cry, but instead she forced herself to listen to him as he spoke.
“The one that was like you, she…” He paused. “She was more faithful to the dragons. She was a cursed being, nicknamed a slayer, but she was not a killer of dragons, she was… How do I describe her?”
He closed his eyes again for a moment, “She was strong and defiant. She had a mind of her own, a will-power that couldn't be matched, more stubborn than I could ever be. She was skilled in combat, in both swordplay and in magic. She was powerful but delicate.”
Libelle turned her head towards him, but not her whole body. He could see the remains of tears on her cheeks, a droplet of blood had welled up on her lip. Her icy eyes looked to the ground when she spoke. “You speak as if you loved her.”
After a moment he responded, a weak smile on his face. “She was beautiful.”
He watched Libelle turn the rest of the way to him, her brow was arched and her expression was questioning. In his mortal form, it was harder to hide his expressions from her. Mortal’s feelings were easy to read through their facial expression, they could be sad, happy, and angry: and by looking at their face you would know which it was. She didn't say anything, probably didn't know what to say. She stared at him for a few seconds, before lowering her eyes and brushing her hair behind her pointed ear.
“She could kill a dragon if she needed to, however with their death she felt it as if it were their own. She absorbed all of their pain and emotions it felt during its death. It brought agonizing pain, terrifying nightmares, and each life she took changed her little by little. Different than all other dragon slayer she was more of an outcast, but was accepted by the dragons. She played with our hatchlings, meditated with the elders, she even flew with us.”
“You are like her. Like Brenna, a strong warrior. But you are more like a dragon than a mortal, more than you realize. With each dragon’s life you take, even one you didn’t take, you take in all their pain. I saw it just now. You are not a normal slayer, Libelle. You do not find enjoyment from taking a dragons life do you?”
Libelle shook her head, “I hate it. I hate every moment of it, the fighting and the killing.” She spoke honestly, looking straight into his eyes. Her shoulders were stiff and her arms straight by her sides when a flood of tears formed into her eyes. “I wish I didn't have to!” She raised her hands to her face, hiding herself as uncontrolled tears and cries escaped her.
In that moment, Eskil saw her; he saw Brenna but he also saw Libelle. His memory flashed back to her, to his ‘adopted daughter and best friend.’ Stuck in a similar situation with Brenna years ago, when his slayer came to him and pleaded, begging for a full out war not to break out.
How he had failed her. He shook his head and clenched his eyes shut, knowing he couldn't go back there: not now. He opened his eyes and stared at Libelle, she still stood shaking and wiping away the strong current of tears. Her long and thick hair loose around her waist and blowing back and forth in the wind, her big eyes hooded with her tears, her petite frame shivering. When he stared at her now, he saw his Brenna: but this wasn't her. Perhaps it was once her spirit, reincarnated into this slayer. Perhaps this was the old god’s way of testing him, allowing him to right his past failures.
Eskil looked down at his hands, and did something he had never been able to do with Brenna. But he could try it here and now, with Libelle. He took long steps, stopping just inches from her. She wiped away more tears and looked up at him, a gasp escaping her when he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her snugly to his chest. One hand gently nestled on the back of her head, the other on the small of her back. He held her gently, but firmly with her hands against his chest and her head turned to the side. She was holding her breath, and he stroked her blonde hair.
“I am sorry slayer, Libelle. You understand more than I could have hoped for.”
Eskil closed his eyes and held her close while she cried, while she fought through the pain and terror that the young dragon had felt. While she relived his final moments, and when he felt his life fade: she felt like hers did too. Brenna experienced this only twice in her thirty years, and he was with her for both. She would cry so hard, clinging to his scales she would shake and wail until she would exhaust herself. But then her nightmares would start, and those were worse than when she would absorb the soul. Nightmares would last for weeks, haunting her sleep and waking her in the night. Waking him.
He had been such a fool, he had been cruel to her. Eskil gently led Libelle to the ground, the slayer, cursed dragon, the elf was breaking in ways he never would have been able to break her. Her heart was shattering into pieces. He stroked her hair as he positioned her comfortably between his bent knees, hugging her like this warmed him more than the sun beating on them as it slowly set past the mountains.
How he wish he could have held Brenna like this…
“I found Brenna when she was a small child, she was no more than twelve in mortal years. She had stumbled her way into the dragons nesting ground, which was forbidden at that time. Heh, for many reasons. Females are aggressive, they are strong and ill-tempered, and above all are territorial of land and protective of their hatchlings.
“Somehow that little brat wandered into the middle of the nesting ground and found herself being taunted by several hatchlings, she was scrawny and wore tattered cloth. Yet she wasn't scared, she didn't back down from them. It wasn't until one of them tried to use bite her that she snarled back at them, showing them that she wasn’t scared of them. Sent the young flying away but drew in a few of the females. Curious, I investigated and took her out of there before one of the females made her dinner.”
Eskil pleasantly chuckled at the memory, leaning back on the stump behind him and pulling Libelle with him. Her sobs were slowing as she listened to his memory. “Brenna was born in a time that the slayers were just becoming more familiar to hear about, the souls of dragon being in mortal? At first it was just a few here and there, but the numbers grew and many blindly followed the rule of the Kings who wanted the dragons eliminated. Brenna was not like the others, she was defiant of their rule. She challenged their authority, and asked questions that actually challenged both the mortals and my own opinion on certain matters.
“She was this tiny thing at first, playing in the fields with the hatchlings and being closely watched by the females. But she grew fast, she grew into a tall and beautiful nord. She had dark brown hair and always kept it short, the young ones fire had singed it off one too many times. Her eyes with an earthy green, and they held this level of intelligence that you wouldn’t expect to find in a mortal. She was not thin like you, she was larger and wider than you. But she was not, ahem, as curved as you are.”
He saw the pink flush on Libelle’s cheeks and he wiped away one of her tears. “Brenna grew up with the dragon, she was raised and taught by us. She learned our language, our history, and our culture. Yes, despite what you may think we do have culture. She became a peace-keeper between the two races, standing alongside many of the slayers who did not want the war to continue. She was special to me, and she knew it; she was always close by my side.
“She was in her early twenties when I learned she was not only special to me, but also special to the dragon and a problem to man. One of the hatchlings had wandered too far from the nesting grounds and she went to retrieve it, the little one did not want to return and found itself in the middle of the pending war in a farmer's field. It burnt a few of his sheep and the fool killed it before Brenna could stop him.
“That was the first time I had ever seen her cry, and when I learned of her… unfortunate curse. The hatchlings death went into her, but she felt the infant’s terror and its pain while the farmer beat and stabbed it with a pitch fork. It wasn't too long after that, when our strength began to be questioned by man. Suddenly they were starting uprisings against their kings, these slayers began leading them and killing our kind. Our young were slain in their nests, sometimes before they even hatched.
“Despite those who wanted peace, more wanted war. This is when I learned of the traitors within my ranks, dragons who wanted bloodshed. They wanted war. They even began fighting between one another, wounding the loser but not killing unless necessary. However, there were the few who killed just for the fun of it. Brenna had stepped in between a battle one evening, between myself and two young dragon. I told her not to, but she didn't listen. I told you she was stubborn didn't I?
“It was a mess, it shouldn't have happened but it did. The young dragon would not back off, one lost its life by her hands. For weeks, I would find her curled up under my wing crying or waking from nightmares. The pain of taking the dragon’s life was too great for her gentle nature. I see her kind spirit in you, but you're stronger than she is. You may cry, you may show your pain: but you're stronger. Perhaps if she were stronger she would not have died.”
Libelle’s tears had stopped while she listened to him, her head resting on his chest listening to his strong heartbeat. “What happened to her?”
Eskil paused, staring at the sun as it slipped behind a mountain peak. “She was murdered, by one of my nephews. He had sworn allegiance to a mortal who had sworn to win the war between man and dragon, he had been promised petty things. I don’t know exactly why he chose to kill her, but he thought that her death would lead me to break the truce. He was right, her death sparked the beginning of the true war.”
He closed his eyes and the memory was still vivid in his mind, he could remember everything clearly. Man had gathered with the dragons, peace was meant to be spoken. Arguments broke out and the traitorous bastard…
It was a long time ago, the land was beginning to be cultivated but there were few settlements. Nordic men built small towns at first, but their cities grew in size and their numbers grew in power. Farmers moved their herds without care, warriors practiced their skills in the open, and dragons flew all over in the skies. It was a time where dragons and mankind originally worked together. They were friends and allies who were experiencing a very rough time in their relationship.
Eskil sat above a man-made pillar, the ground beneath him was well polished stone with intricate shapes carved into the slabs. It formed a large and open room, one without walls and without a roof. A place where man and dragon could meet and speak calmly.
“Eskil! These battles cannot continue, too many men and women have already died!” Shouted an elderly man, stepping up from his chair to speak to the five men around him and the three dragons. Two of the priests from Uppsala paced back and forth behind them. Only leaving the sanctity of their temple to discuss this foolish war, they knew the Gods had created man and dragon so they could co-exist. However, they fought for control of the islands instead. Eskil stared down at them from his perch, his three most trusted dragons sitting behind him. Brenna stood on the ground in front of him, arguing with the mortal men.
“Men and women have died, but what of the dragons?” She asked. “This whole situation occurred only because men killed dragon! Man has rebelled against the gods! Búri created dragons to be our allies, and they fulfilled that duty! They have dedicated themselves to mankind, they have been our friends; and instead of respecting that, man sought power over them! They killed them to prove what? Their worth? What does that mean?”
“The dragons swore to protect us!” Another man shouted.
“Dragons never swore that! Man abused their words, interpreting what they said for something else. They heard what they wanted to hear.” Brenna countered. “Agreements go both ways, you cannot have loyalty without both sides showing that they are in an agreement. Men broke that loyalty and that trust.”
All of the men burst from their seat, shouting all at once and their voices blocking each other’s out. The peace-talk was not going as well as all had hoped. Men wanted to rule their lands and to rule the dragons, and dragons refused to be ruled by such weak creatures. Dragons we're proud creatures, they would not bow to the weakness of man.
Eskil’s kin were becoming more and more intolerant of their behavior, their murderous acts on their young was the last straw they could break and now they retaliated. They burned the nord’s homes, stole from the flocks, and for each dragon slain, a mortals home burned.
The slayer’s who had once joined his force, promising to work with his kin to stop the war from progressing further. Instead, they rebelled. Using their strength to slay the dragons for coin and worthless titles. If they did not come to an agreement soon, this would escalate to a full out war, one he wasn’t sure he could stop.
Dragons versus both mankind and the slayers. His arrogant self would smile, and embrace the fields of burnt corpses his kin would leave behind their flame. However, it would never be truly worth it. The gods did not want this war to continue. His mind had slipped from the argument but quickly returned when Brenna was face-to-face with one of the mortal men.
“You whore to a dragon! You speak lies!” One of the elder’s sons stood mere inches from her, threatening and insulting her with his words.
Eskil growled a deep rumbling threat of his own at the young nord whose eyes widened, but he did not step away. He swallowed hard, “I am right! She is your whore Eskil, you’re a disgrace to all dragon kind!”
Eskil stood on his perch, the growl in his throat becoming more threatening. Brenna turned around to face him and raised her hands, “It’s alright, battle-brother.”
She called him that often when they were not alone. Her friend and her ally. He snorted and she smiled at him when he returned to resting on his wings. Before he could blink one of the nord’s pulled a knife and rushed Brenna, shouting something he could not understand.
Brenna turned and grabbed his arm when another man charged her side, the other three men turning to fight with the priests. Eskil’s throat widened with his roar, with it the clouds darkened and the air thickened. He left his perch and landed on the ground a few feet away from Brenna, one of the men assaulting her turned and rushed him. He turned his body and slapped the man with his tail, the mortal’s body slamming into a stone wall.
“Eskil!”
He turned his head quickly to her voice, she was on her knees trying to stand when another man rushed at him: a broad sword raised above his head and ready to strike down across his neck. He evaded the man's first attack, but froze when he heard one of the dragons snarl. In a moment the dragon was behind Brenna, she was unable to react in time as was he. The dragon’s fangs ripped through her chest, piercing her lungs.
The dragon fled and one of the dragons launched after him, the second landed on the ground in front of Eskil and showered the mortal men with his fiery blaze. Eskil moved towards Brenna who lay on the ground, blood pooling from her wounds. He nudged her with his rough nose and slowly she reached towards him; a bloody hand rested near his nostril, forever staining his skin with her blood. She coughed, trying to form words to speak to him but her failing ability of retrieving air hindered her speech. She gasped and coughed more, blood dripping from her lip.
“My child.” He whispered to her while examining her wound. It was fatal, his little child would not recover from this injury. The remaining priest quickly retreated to a safe distance, mounting his horse and leaving the scene. The two surviving dragons now looked at him, nodded and returned to the sky, leaving him alone with his mortal child. He curled himself around her, gently tucking her under his wing and her head resting against his neck.
She tried inhaling which only resulted in her coughing again, her trembling hand reached up and pulled down on one of his horns and he turned so he could see into her eyes. She mouthed her words to him, and he felt his heart ache. If dragons could cry, he would cry.
‘Eskil, I love you. I always have, I always will.’ She paused to smile at him with tears in her eyes. ‘It’s not your fault.’
Brenna slipped away from life moments after, and Eskil’s heart break slowly grew to rage. Her death led to the beginnings of a full outbreak of war, to the death of his kin and many mortals. Even to this exact moment.
Eskil hated but cherished that memory, it was the last one he had of Brenna: he missed his little child. He stared down at Libelle who was now looking up at him, her eyes were red and slightly puffy. Her cheeks were flush and her lower lip was bright red, the droplet of blood still there. He lightly rubbed her cheek and she pulled away from him.
The sun was nearly set, hidden behind the mountains and casting them in shadows with a crisp breeze flowing over the lake in their direction. He felt the cool air flow over them, and Libelle shivered; her skin prickling from the chill and she seemed to unconsciously curl up closer to him.
I never would have been able to do this with Brenna. He thought, a crooked smile forming. He rested his hand on Libelle’s neck and bent down over her, capturing her mouth in a hot kiss. His tongue flicked over her sore lip, erasing the small amount blood before his lips locked to hers. He heard her inhale sharply when his tongue pushed past her lips and into her mouth, tangling with hers and savoring the sweet taste of her mouth. His kiss lasted only for a moment, but it thrilled him and he opened his eyes to see her reaction. It was what he expected. Her brows were narrowed together and her teeth were clenched, her fist was pulled back and in an instant she landed a blow to his chin.
He growled and tightened his grip around her when she tried to stand up, “Sit down Bren- Libelle.”
He heard her frustrated inhale and yelped when she bit down onto his arm, the pain causing him to jerk his arm away allowing her to she stand up, “I am not Brenna, you bastard!” Her exasperated sigh was long and deep, and her sore eyes looked like she wanted to cry again. She cursed at him and shook her head before turning on her heels. She rushed to her stallion, grabbing his reins and stretching upwards to grab onto the saddle horn; she was raising her foot into the stirrup when Eskil grabbed her wrists and spun her around. His eyes were still gold, but the shade was hotter and brighter.
“You're right, you're not Brenna. You are...” His sentence trailed off as he smiled at her, the curve of his lips were gentle. She was angry with him, biting her lip again to stop herself from screaming at him. She was showing great restraint with him and it was impressive.
“I am what?” She growled at him, trying to pull herself free from him again.
Eskil chuckled, Gods curse you for this. This is cruel even for you to do. “My lifemate.”