"Madame Zedya, I, I don't, I mean, why, but…" Lennart stammered as he looked into the vampire's shimmering amethyst eyes. Two desires welled up in his heart, one born of years of service, all but screaming that he should kneel before immediately rejecting the honor that he knew himself to be unworthy of.
But another desire, one he'd long suppressed when engaging with Lady Nyrielle, Madame Zedya, or any of the rulers of the Vale of Mists, came roaring up even stronger. Slowly, with a paw that trembled slightly at the audacity of the gesture he was about to make, he reached out and gently brushed a tear away from the corner of her eye.
