Her. A beautiful warrior wanting to bed me since we’ve trained together.
Her. A maid waiting for me to call on her for other means and willing to drop everything when I do so.
Her. A low ranking but very desirable noblewoman who has already promised to do unspeakable things to me for nothing in return.
Her. Her. Her.
Another and another.
Nameless women who want me.
Yet I did not want any of them because none of them were her. My her. The her I still pine over even after twenty f u cking years. I have tried many times to forget her by other means but I was just not interested— I couldn’t touch anyone else. I don’t want to. Even before I begin to say a word to other women, even when I’m drunk and out of sorts, I freeze and keep remembering her. The blue eyes, the annoying smirk, the at
