"Leave me alone," Ercilia spat.
This time, Iorwerth couldn't keep his anger back.
Tightening his embrace around her, he flipped her over so he could look at her directly. Her eyes mirror his with rage - each glowering at the other. But he could see her resolve slowly withering under his peeved, narrowed glare.
"Ercilia, my love…" he said slowly, gripping her shoulders - his words may have seemed kind if he was not speaking with a hiss.
"I don't think you want to ask that of me. After all, you can't do anything without me. Now that your allies are gone, there is no one else who can protect you. All you have right now is me, and all you have to do is to obey me."
His instincts told him to whisper threats, but even with the rage roaring through him, he tucked them away. His wife is to protect, after all. That's what he vowed when he took her in front of the altar.
"I-Iorwerth," she stammered out hesitantly.
