Blackthorne spoke long with Sonja regarding recent events. He told her of the weird goddess who liked to grasp his buttocks. He informed her of what happened at the graveyard, and how he ended up in the underground chamber.

As he spoke, she grew increasingly sober. Once he finished, she looked down at her hands briefly then slipped down to the floor once more.

Confused by her sudden movements, he looked down to see that she knelt before him. "Sonja? What are you doing?"

"You are of the nobility, now. Admittedly, the dark nobility, but still it is not appropriate for me to continue acting in the manner that I have acted until now," she said softly.

"Why would you even care about that? It's not like I'm some ruler or other, and especially not over your people," said Blackthorne.

Sonja shook her head. "No, you are no mere head of state or government official. The nobility of the light and dark are part of the celestial court. Some might even consider you a god or demon in your own right."

He started to snort at her but stopped mid-way. He was a shape-shifting black dragon capable of turning into sentient black mist. Honestly, a lot of people would consider that demonic.

"Aren't you descended from an actual goddess?" asked Blackthorne. "And stop kneeling. It's weirding me out."

"If such is your wish, master," she said softly.

"I have a name. Nothing has changed. Seriously..." he groused.

"You truly do not know the honor bestowed on you?" asked Sonja curiously.

"Not really. It came with the new outfit," he said. "Besides that, I don't really care about any honor, or whatever, that I was bestowed. There are more important things to consider."

"Ah. I see..." she said.

Blackthorne sighed loudly at her continued reticence on the matter. "Leave it to me to find the one weird thing about me that doesn't make you horny."

She snorted delicately. "There's only one?"

"Finally!" crowed Blackthorne triumphantly. "I thought I'd lost you."

A slight smile crossed her lips. "I suppose you really have not changed that much, have you?"

"Just my race... Which is something that seemed to bother you a lot less than finding out my professional title," he said.

"Of course," said Sonja. Her smile shifted to a complicated expression. "This entire world exists as a means for dreamers to change themselves. They come in waves, travel the lands for a time, and it is quite common for them to become a new race. Non-humans have even opted to become human."

"I see..." Blackthorne acquired a thoughtful expression. "Does there come a day when they just stop appearing in this world?"

"Yes. There always comes such a day." She let the words hang in the air for a moment, while neither of them spoke.

Ebon eyebrow arched quizzically, Blackthorne considered her words for a moment. Uncertain of exactly whether it would work or not, he made a suggestion. "Sonja, would you like to come home with me to my world?"

"Such a thing is impossible, is it not? I cannot travel with you while you sleep," she said in a mildly curious tone.

"My status as a dark lord allows me to transfer goods back and forth across the worlds. I even found a way to arrange things so that I can sleep normally at times, though at others it would be the same as before," said Blackthorne. "I will need to check the transfer costs, but I am certainly willing to splurge if it means I can show you around my hometown."

The light in Sonja's eyes began to dance. "That would be quite the adventure, I think."

"Great! Let me pull up my Transfer Menu," said Blackthorne.

He looked through the tidbits of information then grinned. "Yep, you're officially classed as my livestock now."

"I'm livestock?" she asked curiously.

Blackthorne nodded to her while he continued to look over the information. Sonja snorted loudly then turned away. She crossed her arms under her chest then lifted her nose.

"Lessee, six hundred? Interesting..." Blackthorne scratched his cheek a little then looked over to her.

"What am I a cow?" she asked. Sonja tilted her head slightly then looked down at her chest. She arched her golden eyebrow curiously.

Oblivious to her antics, Blackthorne nodded his head thoughtfully. Eventually, he looked over to her then said, "What do you say about coming over now? I do have left over funds and I want to see what happens."

She turned toward him leaned forward until her face was only a few inches from his then softly said, "Moo."

"What are you? A cow?" he asked her. Their eyes met for that brief moment but then slowly, his eyes drifted downward. A twinge of strain came to his eyes as a sharp stabbing pain skittered through his brain. A dark voice whispered something obscene, but he did his best to ignore it.

"Will the master be milking me today?" she asked him in a sarcastic tone. "Perhaps he will tie a bell around my neck? His lordship would not want the prized milk-cow to wander off."

Blackthorne offered her an acerbic expression then blithely responded, "My hands are cold."

Sonja drew back and covered her chest with her hands. "No!" she cried in a high-pitched shriek.

A silent moment passed before they both began to titter. Soon the tittering became genuine laughter.

"I notice you called yourself my prized milk-cow," said Blackthorne. "Pretty confident."

"Of course," she said seriously. Sonja drew back slightly, squared her shoulders, and thrust her chest out pridefully. "If I were truly a cow, I would be the envy of every farm in the land."

A soft chuckle escaped his lips. "Well, I won't argue that."

A gentle snort was her only response, though her cheeks did take on a slight hint of color. "You truly have not changed since you became a noble."

"Not in the ways that matter, no." Blackthorne leaned back slightly then tapped his chin once before he pointed to her. "You never did answer my question, though."

"Question?" she asked.

He stretched his hand out to her. "Do you want to visit my world now?"

"I'd like that... I think," she said softly before she took his hand.

Blackthorne looked down at her hand then an idle thought passed through his mind. He raised her hand up then gently kissed it on the knuckle.

Sonja's eyes widened, and her nostrils flared slightly. She offered him a warm, but slightly complicated smile. "Do all of the farmers treat their cattle in such a fashion?"

"The queen of the cows deserves deferential treatment," remarked Blackthorne while he maintained a serious expression.

She groaned loudly at him then bit her lower lip a little. "You are ridiculous. Perhaps I made a mistake in choosing you?"

"Probably, but you're stuck with me now, Bessie." Blackthorne lightly squeezed her hand.

"Bessie?" she asked him, her face threatening to unleash a sarcastic expression.

He adopted a vacuous expression then tilted his head to the side, "Moo?"

Sonja withdrew her dainty hoof and smacked his shoulder with it. Pain skittered along her spine, but nothing more serious came of her dreadful assault upon her master.

Blackthorne drew back from her for a time, his hand cupping his chin. He gazed silently at her long enough to cause her to become uncomfortable.

"What is it, you fool?" she asked him softly.

"I was wrong, forgive me," he said sincerely.

She blinked quickly then leaned forward a little. "For what?"

"I called you by name, but forgot your title. It is unseemly to speak to an empress in such a way." Blackthorne nodded his head then looked down.

"Empress?" she asked him curiously.

"Yes. Of course. Clearly, you are superior to a queen. Therefore I should address you as Empress Bessie." Blackthorne affected an expression that seemed to be a mixture of sincere apology and smug ridiculousness. It was quite the sight, really.

Sonja's eyelid twitched, but her face remained passive otherwise. Slowly, her hand reached up and then she pinched his shoulder. Hard.

Blackthorne yelped at the pain of her assault then clutched at his injured, but not actually injured, arm. "Fine! Goddess Bessie then!"

She pinched him once more, while she simultaneously ignored the pain skittering along her spine. "Would you care to rephrase that?"

"God-Empress Bessie?" asked Blackthorne curiously.

"You fool!" she cried with a laugh. Sonja lunged forward and tackled him. They fell off the side of the bed. They landed in a flailing heap of arms and ridiculous laughter.

For a brief happy moment they flailed and laughed, but soon things took a different turn. One that could only end in one way.

"You shall call me queen," said Sonja imperiously.

"What?" asked Blackthorne with a smile. "Queen, instead of empress?"

"Queen has certain connotations," she said sweetly. Her hand slipped over then she used her finger to lightly circle his manly nipple through his hoody.

Blackthorne immediately grew uncomfortable while he tried his best to hide it. Her actions stirred up the voices inside his mind. "I'm the one with the whip, though," he said softly.

Sonja laughed tenderly then leaned down and kissed him softly on the side of the nose. "Perhaps you should use it... Don't bad little girls deserve to be punished?"

He froze in place as the words he used earlier came back like a slap in the face. Images skittered through his head, once again he was forced to relive his past and the worst moment of his life.

Blackthorne turned his head away from her. "Please, stop." he whispered to the images in his head, to the hateful voices that constantly ruined his every happy moment.

Sonja stopped cold then drew back from him. Gone was the warm and joyful demeanor, in its place she saw a man more akin to a corpse. The life had seemingly drained from his eyes. Now he stared off into nothing.

"What's wrong?" she asked him softly.

Blackthorne did not answer. He was no longer in the room, he was now in a place a decade removed from the current moment. All that he could see was the battered corpse of his little sister.