written for fiefgoldenlake dot proboards dot com's Decathlon challenge!

Wyldon wakes up feeling more at peace than he has since Midwinter began. There is another woman in the bed beside him, fair instead of dark, steely in ways he is only beginning to discover.

It is strange to be this happy when everything he has done in the last twenty-four hours has gone against his moral code, but isn't life just funny like that?

Cythera looks at him through eyes blue as the sea (he isn't sure what this is; he isn't normally prone to simile) and smiles lowly. "Do you feel better?"

"I have a roaring headache, actually-"

"That's probably the wine," she smirks.

"But I do," Wyldon finishes smoothly.

She kisses him and begins to extract herself from the sheets.

"You can have a lie-in, if you wish," Cythera says. "I'm going to go take care of breakfast."