Freedom, the indefinable joy of the sun on one's scales while a cool breeze brought the gentle fragrance of the grassland to nostrils long accustomed to dirt and rot. Blackthorne practically bugled his joy out into the world just before he raced through the grassland.

It had taken him quite some time to work his way out of the underground darkness. He could see only a short distance through the rock and dirt. Several times he had become confused and ended up losing his way. However, he was free once more. Alive, and free.

Much like a man fresh from prison he had one thing on his mind. A woman.

It was an odd thought for him, at least he thought it to be odd. Yet, Blackthorne did not balk at the idea of it. Sonja was someone special to him, someone whom he had come to count on quite a bit. She deserved better than how she had been treated.

Once again, he had come to do her harm. It, for once, was not truly his fault. However, it would be wrong to not accept his part in all of it. He was the one who did not take into account the possibilities of such a massive cave-in. The mine had not been services in a long time. Such dangerous events were inevitable.

Eventually, his joy faded. He became as lost in thought as he was in the grassland. He knew nothing of the region in which he found himself currently. It all looked the same to him, an unending sea of grass for as far as his eyes could see.

Now that his battle with Girtablilu had come to an end, and he'd had time to think there was a strong sense of unease within his scale enshrouded heart. He had promised so much to Sonja, but had yet to be able to deliver on any of it. Worse. What if he died again?

Thoughts of his past interactions with her came to mind. Blackthorne could not help but feel ashamed. The things that he had done. The manner in which he had spoken to her. Yes, he had been hurt in a way that most people might never recover from. Sonja was the same, however.

Blackthorne trotted to a halt then closed his crimson eyes. A sense of weight settled over him. His wings and tail drooped toward the ground. "She continued to try to be supportive of me, even as I cried and screamed like a child."

He took in a deep breath then slowly released it. "I pushed her away because I could not handle my own pain... Yet, was she not the one who truly suffered?"

The memories, they stank. That sense for corruption, for the wrongness of a thing, it was strong. Worse than a decaying corpse.

Blackthorne opened his eyes once more, bright red light blazing from them for a moment. A decision had been made.

He sniffed the air briefly then scanned the area with his other senses. Nothing but grass was detected for quite some distance. His eyes glowed like the embers of a dying fire. "I cannot put this off."

The dragon lowered his body to the ground, propped his head atop his paws then promptly ordered himself to sleep. He logged off from the dream and enacted a transfer of goods.

Scott appeared in his bedroom along with a sleeping Sonja. She rested on the floor nearby, her body curled into a fetal position.

A slight smile crept onto his reptilian face briefly, but it soon died. He was overjoyed to see her again, but she looked terrible. Pale, and a bit thinner as though she had not eaten in days. She was covered in dirt, but even more telling was the fact that her hands were bloodied and raw.

"Dammit," whispered Blackthorne. "You never left the cave..."

Her story was obvious. After the cave-in she must have gone down into the hole and tried to dig him out. It would have been impossible to find him. There was also probably no way out for her once she reached the bottom of the newly made hole.

After severing his connection to the yellow eyed bastard, Scott hoped to never cry over anything again. He could not help it. The sight of Sonja's pale body and ruined hands brought tears to his eyes.

Scott was not the only one to shed tears, however. Her body trembled slightly and a single tear appeared at the corner of her eyes.

He shifted into human form, his eyes turning red in an altogether different manner. She truly felt that strongly? His hand rose to his mouth and he forced himself not to speak. Instead he made himself look at her, truly look at her, for the first time.

This was the girl who threatened to treat him like sliced ham. She seemed to be supremely oversexed but would act ridiculously shy and cute at the moment when even the semblance of actual emotion might appear. She cooked for him. Cleaned for him... seemingly was willing to throw her life away for him. In any other relationship she would be seen as doting on him like a devoted girlfriend.

What had he done to deserve such devotion? He'd never really been there for her that he could recall, not in a way that truly mattered, it was always about his needs. His pain.

Scott looked at her and realized just what sort of person he had been. Sonja never deserved any of it, to be forced to deal with how he acted. It was obvious now that when she offered to do certain things with him, it wasn't just for his sake. There was something she needed from his presence as well, otherwise she would not have been willing to stay with him through all of the bullshit that surrounded his existence.

Curled into a fetal ball, tears trailing from her eyes, she looked as though she had been thrown away. The slight tears that welled up in his eyes previously slid down his cheeks and closed his mouth. His lips became a tight, grim, line.

Unbidden, words came to him. They were like an oddly fragmented memory. "What good is your justice?"

The word justice reverberated inside his head for a moment. Then, he saw Sonja once more. This time, however, it was not the sickly pale young woman curled into a ball on his bedroom floor. It was like he could somehow look into her and see part of what made her who she had become.

Scott saw the moment of her birth, and the jubilant cries of numerous warrior women. He saw her struggle to grow stronger. He saw the raid on her village, and then he saw what occurred during her captivity.

Every fibrous bit of muscle in his body seized and clenched tight as he endured what she had endured, though only by proxy. No matter what was done to her, she did not give up. She continued to fight, until she lost. In that moment her captor became her husband, in spite of her age. Scott witnessed her sense of betrayal when her own people could not help her due to the laws of their existence. If they tried to separate the two, Sonja would be forced to defend the very creature that stole her future. The only alternative was a slow and painful death. The dead have no chance to find justice, such were the thoughts of all involved saved for the bastard who took her.

Years passed. Her body was used for the pleasure of men, many men. Sex became something she thought of as a disgusting prospect, but also a needed tool for survival. She laughed. She smiled. She drank and sang. She was dead inside. The only true emotion that she felt on any regular basis was a never ending desire for revenge on the one who had forced that life upon her, and her anger at herself for being weak.

Even so, she did not give up her heritage. Beauty was one of her weapons, and her body was a tool to further her goal.

Her life did not matter to her, as long as she could destroy the one who stole it away in the first place. Yet, there was a moment when all of that changed. Almost immediately upon meeting the mysterious weirdo known as Blackthorne she became conflicted.

Scott watched as she slowly succumbed to her curiosity. Here was this incredibly fierce looking man, the kind of man who should be so coated in blood that he might drown in an ocean of it. He never acted in that manner. He popped in and out of her life, yet refused to abuse her like other men. The oddest part was that he did not refuse due to a sense of superior morality. His actions were so alien to her that she could not help but take further notice.

It was Saelil's rescue and his simple request that pushed her over the edge, however. The look in his eyes when he had rebuked her for her comments about how many men would pay for the privilege of bathing with a young dark elf had sent her into a tailspin of emotion. Blackthorne watched her eyes as they watched her memory of that moment. She saw herself reflected in them in more ways than one.

From curiosity to the blossoming of some strange, heretofore unknown, emotion inside of her heart. It was an emotion that grew stronger every day.

It was not easy to care for Blackthorne. He was emotionally scarred, in some ways similar to her own scars. He professed not to care about people, but it was obvious that he cared more than he wished.

Inevitably, he became a source of comfort and stability for her. That odd feeling inside of her, she did not understand it but she could not stand to be without it. There was a sense of rightness in her existence when she stood close to him. When her thoughts turned dark and she began to lose her way, he was a light house in a storm wracked sea that brought her back to where she truly wanted to be.

Scott knelt down beside her then gently ran his hand along her cheek. He brushed the hair from her face then offered a soft smile. "All this time... You thought I was the one leading you back to a better place?"

He lifted her up a bit then gently tugged her onto his lap. Her exhaustion was so complete that the movements did not wake her for a time. As her head rested in his lap, Blackthorne gently stroked her hair. Scott began to sing. Much like he had done in recent days for the young Saelil, he sang the song he would sing as a child whenever his sister cried in her sleep.

Not long after he began to sing, she snuggled into him and her tears fell a little harder. However, as the song continued, those tears began to dry and her fitful slumber began more restful.

He did not awaken her when the song came to an end. He merely stroked her hair and began again. Scott could not quite figure out the reason for it, but there was something nostalgic about what he was doing that did not seem to be entirely tied to his sister. It was like he had done this long ago, but could not remember when or where.

In truth, the strangest part of it all was that as she slept peacefully her injuries began to heal. He did not recall having such a skill, but her pale flesh became healthier. The torn flesh of her fingers began to knit together. It was a profound moment for him.

Was it the power of his singing? Was it merely that once he calmed her disquiet spirit her body could heal at its natural rate? He could not be certain. Either way, it was merely an interesting thought that he decided to set aside for later.

The song continued in something of a loop for quite some time before Sonja began to stir. Not unlike Saelil she also came awake around the end of the final main verse.

“My love did not fail to be... The hero of my last memory. Though he lay there on that hill... his heart is with me beating still..." sang Scott in a surprisingly strong and clear, yet soft, masculine voice.

"What..?" asked Sonja quietly. He eyes fluttered open a moment later while a look of pure contentment crossed her face.

"Morning, Sonja," said Scott in a gentle and playful tone.

Her half-lidded eyes flew open all of the way. She bolted upright, her chest heaving due to the sudden exertion and surprise. "Master!"

"Master is it?" he asked her lightly.

"You? How did you?" she asked him, her surprise obvious.

Scott lightly took her hands in his then then offered her a genuine smile. "I made you a promise, didn't I?"

"What?" she asked softly. Her mouth hung open in astonishment.

He placed his hands to her cheeks then leaned in softly. A look of confusion flashed in her eyes briefly, but then she felt the tender embrace of his lips against her forehead.

"This... what?" Thoroughly confused, and her face reddening for reasons that she could not even admit to herself, Sonja looked at him in wide-eyed bewilderment.

Scott's playful demeanor faded slightly as a more sober expression rose to take its place. "What I've done to you. What I've failed to do for you. It's time."

"What do you mean?" she asked him. The typical supreme calm or flippant dismissal that should have arisen in that moment did not appear. She was thoroughly confused, but more than that, there was a growing sense of excitement within her chest. His words were quite promising, and more than a little frightening in some ways.

He scooped her up in his arms as though she weighed nothing then rose to his feet. "Hey!" cried Sonja with a nervous laugh. "What exactly are you planning?"

Scott tilted his head down and looked into her eyes. He said nothing, however. Instead, he walked her to the door and then out into the hall. Soon, they were in the bathroom. He gently set her down atop the toilet. A throne fit for Queen Bessie.

She had many questions, but he was clearly planning something. Her curiosity was practically tangible at this point, but she held back in lieu of discovering his plans.

He turned on the shower and adjusted the temperature. Casually, as though it was of no importance, she glanced downward. The truth of the matter was that aside from a bit of jewelry that he was wearing, Scott was supremely naked.

Her eyes bulged outward slightly as she noticed an interesting tidbit about his anatomy. This caused her to look him up and down for a moment. Once again he had appeared with new physical changes. Her surprise at seeming him so suddenly caused her not to notice initially, but now they were hard to ignore.

His jet black hair, highlighted with bits of red, hung down to his mid-back. Wild and tangle in a gnarled mass of curls, it gave him the impression of having the mane of a beast.

Seemingly, his muscles had muscles now. Before he had a powerful frame, now he seemed to possess one chiseled from stone. Sleek in a way, but rippling with power. For a time, she gazed at his backside in appreciation of the curvature of his form.

He turned to look at her once more. She caught sight of the small horns atop his head. Largely hidden by his hair, but still apparent to even a casual observer. They matched with his ears that seemingly held an appearance somewhere between that of a frilled lizard and an elf.

Hot steam wafted from the shower as Scott stood to his full upright height. He reached his hand down to her and smiled softly.

Strangely nervous, Sonja bit her lip while she looked into his bright red eyes. She slowly stood up then removed her filthy garments. They dropped to the floor with a soft tinkling thud. Now, she too stood before him in all of her naked glory. She had healed quite a bit during her rest, but her body had also changed. Thinner than before, and covered in innumerable scars. She was the product of her desperation and despair.

She took Scott's hand and he led her into the shower. The hot water poured over them, but neither spoke. They merely stood close together and looked into each other's eyes. Weariness, sadness, confusion, it was all slowly washed away by the soothing nature of the water.

"What is this about....?" whispered Sonja, as though she was uncertain once more.

The light danced in her eyes for a brief moment, then Scott drew her closer into his arms. He pressed his forehead to hers then softly whispered, "Justice."

Scott slid one hand to the back of her head and cradled her there even as his lips pressed softly against hers. It would be nice to claim that it was a fearsome moment where their lips intertwined, a magical memory for the ages. In truth, despite his genuine desire, Scott had no idea how to kiss her properly.

Sonja giggled slightly then brushed her nose against his before she broke off the kiss. "You need to practice how you perform justice..."

Scott chuckled softly then caressed her lower back. "Yes. I do."

He kissed her again, and this time with slightly better results. Once they broke away, he looked at her and playfully said, "Thankfully, I have a truly patient instructor."

Sonja's ears reddened, no doubt due to the heat of the shower and for no other reason. A truly beautiful smile crossed her lips. "What has gotten into you? Shouldn't you be ... uncomfortable right now."

Scott shook his head. "I should never have been... uncomfortable. That's over now."

She tilted her head to the side then lightly canted her hips. "Is it really?"

He kissed her once more then slip his hand down to the cleft of her ass. His fingers lightly slipped between her cheeks and he softly caressed her there for a time. No words were spoken, but his meaning was clear. Scott had no idea what he was doing, but he was definitely committed to doing it!