She saw the understanding in his eyes and was ashamed for it. What must he think of her? It must seem as though she'd left him in the dead of night to go running back to her old lover as though what had passed between them had been insignificant. As though he wasn't her sun in a time of endless night for her. And in truth, if she was particularly honest with herself, there had been moments when she hadn't thought of him. When her desperation to hold Bjorn close had allowed her to forget the future she'd built with Ailill, and she loathed herself for it.

Ailill deserved better than the broken mess she had become, and yet she selfishly needed him now more than ever.

Her golden lover doesn't shun her for her mistakes though. She submits to the pressure he gives, adjusting so that her chest rested against his. The steady thrum of his heart helps to ground her as much as the musky masculine scent of him. He smells of the land she calls home, and the daughters she holds dear as much as he does himself and she takes comfort it in. Gratefully she buries her head against his neck, thankful that he cannot see her face.

His hum soothes her, like the feeling of a cat's purr in the dark of night, and she closes her eyes in relief. Against him much of her fear melts away, and she takes the first deep breath she's been able to muster in a long while. Together they move, and each step feels a little closer to Ailill and the future, and a little further from Bjorn and the past. She could not help what she felt for the grullo stallion, nor in truth, what she felt for Ailill. Both emotions were far beyond her control. And in truth, if given the option, she couldn't truly say that she would forsake either one of them. Bjorn had taught her much, and while not all of it was good (the faces of Adolfo and Poka rose to mind), neither was it all bad. His was a hard life of conflict and strife, for he was a proud man. And pride often comes at a high cost.

Ailill promised a life that was much different, far closer to that which she had come from and that which she believed she wanted. One where kindness took precedence over posturing, and you acted for the common good and not just yourself. A future where she did not need to fear war or fighting, where she could live her life in the same peaceful way that came naturally to her. Where her children could grow up knowing that they were loved and adored without fearing the Lagoon would take vengeance on them. In a place that could feel like home.

His words break the quiet, and her ears turn back to orient to him as he speaks. What do you need from me? She stutter steps but hastens to regain their rhythm, her thoughts swirling in a tangled mass that leaves no clear answer that she can deliver. What do you want from me? He asks and her head lifts from where it has pressed against his shoulder. She stills their movement with a press of her muzzle to his shoulder, carefully extricating herself from his side, even though this small distance makes the panic and the sorrow hover so close that she feels claustrophobic.

"This," she says, a soft timid smile lifting her lips. She stares into his pale eyes for a long moment, seeking his reaction before stepping forward to press her forehead to his if he will allow it. "You," she whispers into the space between them.

She shivers, but she is not cold, and drags in a long shuddering breath before separating from him again just far enough so that she can look into his beautiful face. "I-," she starts but stops to swallow, hating the words she feels she needs to say to him. The apology that tastes bitter in her mouth for how much she hates that it is needed. "I am broken, and you deserve better, Ailill."

She had thought that she had cried all of the moisture from her body and yet tears gather on her dark lashes as she looks upon him. "But I am selfish," she says with a tired lift of her lips. "And I need you."

It is not fair of her. None of this has been fair, but she cannot change it. Siobhan trembles in the temperate night air, afraid of both past and future. Terrified that he might yet turn her down. "I love you, Ailill."

Almost immediately she wants to take it back. Her heart is far too vulnerable to be given again, to be offered as though it were whole. He had to know that she was little more than damaged goods these days, fragile like the orchids that bloomed high in the jungle trees. Too much sun, too little water, the wrong breeze and she could come toppling down like a house of cards. But she stays quiet. Because as much as she feared saying, she feared him not knowing just as much.