Darling & Commander

The Nymph: 24

Gallaleigha POV:

"The tea has been brewed, angel!"

I glance up at my brilliant orc friend, tittering at the nickname he came up with for me long ago.

"Wonderful, thank you!" I accept the sizzling, piping hot cup of chamomile beverage.

I have returned since my visit with Brock the day before, and we sit in the tent behind Tyson's market booth. I am assisting him in returning the glassware to their parcels for his prolonged journey to the next kingdoms over, and the tall man takes a seat across from me on these stools he has brought.

"You have a glow about you this morning..." Tyson grins. "I cannot seem to place it."

"Oh?" I murmur, only partially listening.

"You certainly are quieter this evening than the others..." He snaps his stout fingers. "It was Cortes, wasn't it?"

"I do not know what you speak of." I cough, taking a sip of the scalding tea.

"Do not claim as if I do not know a kissed woman when I see one." He gives me a complacent smirk.

My tea comes splattering right off of my lips, causing me many fits of coughing.

"Why do you suspect such a thing?" I force myself to be at leisure as I dab the dribbling liquid off of my chin with a dainty, lined handkerchief.

"I can just sense it, angel. You look exuberantly bubbly today, and have that special far away look I have found you reserve for that man." Tyson chuckles.

"You have only met him once..." I oppose, guiding a teacup gently into its packaging peanuts crammed parcel.

"And yet you look at him as if he hung you the moon." He hands me the adhesive plaster for the package, with a knowing sardonic grin.

"He may as well have. Oh, Tys, he is the most marvelous man I have ever met. You do not count, of course." I chuckle when he gives a shocked demeanor. "It is implausible to suppose that all of those in his continent truly fear him. I would trust him with anything I have, and as you can tell, he quite clearly has gained possession of my heart."

"You have become quite poetic in a short days time." Tyson rolls out some tape. "Well, I do hope everything progresses without a hitch for the two of you. The jaded general and the sweet forest nymph. What a pair you make."

The orc chuckles to himself, and I shake my head in disbelief that the man who loves me is everything entirely different from the man I had encountered with years ago. Brock treats me like everything is my choice; the former did not. The general holds me with kindness while the other had out of greed. And my commander caresses my heart with a fond tenderness that may have been just unfathomable when it came to the old flame I am unsure was ever truly lit at all.

"So, then. Are you... what? Courting?" Tyson tilts his head.

"I- we had not discussed such terms, I suppose." I redden at the prospect of courting someone.

I had never suspected I would receive such attention from a man having responsibilities and whatnot. I had supposed that the man would always come second when it came between him and my duties as a nymph, but I found myself with the ability to share my love between these prospects with ease. Brock makes it effortless for me, not expecting incredible amounts of my regard towards him. It makes my own obligations simple for me to fulfil knowing he is content and will be alright without my undivided attention.

"Ah, well, do not trouble your petite head about the notion; I am positive he will be eager to discuss these things with you in near time. He is undeniably smitten with you, angel. The man confessed to me that he does not believe himself up to your standards." He encourages me.

"Oh, but he is..." I sigh in a reverie of my commander's stunning face. "He exceeds them."

⚔️⚔️⚔️

When I return home that evening with a basket of glasswares Tyson had gifted me, I find loud sounds of machinery vibrating out from inside of my cabin. It puts me at unease, as I do not have any allies with unbounded nymphs, and no one but Brock knows I live-

Brock. Yes, that is it, it must be my commander in there doing goodness knows what.

My heart skips several of their jumpy beats as I skip over to the door, confused to find a note plastered to it with adhesive tape. I tear it off of the wood in order to read it.

But all of the words are fuddled, and I find myself growing more and more impatient by the moment. Finding myself torn between entering and shredding the paper, I decide Brock would likely enjoy I take the mature path with this consideration. So I bring my hand up to the thick knocker, and give it two hits with the steel clacker before the door swings open on its creaking hinges.

I am met with a pair of dark black eyes I find myself quite indeed familiar with.

Is this a fever dream? Am I just in a illusion? I must be. Yes, any moment now, I shall wake cocooned between my commanders arms and he will kiss me through the morning murkiness of my mind.

But when it becomes apparent the dark eyes and striking blond hair are not vanishing as the moments persist, I feel my entire body stumble backwards at the wicked grin that pays a visit to this man's vile face. 

No, this is not just any man that I stand afront. He will never be just any man, not to me, not to any other being who understands the cruelty he distributes wherever he seems to wander across.

The veiny, pale hand reaches out to my frozen in shock face, tucking the long tendrils of hair behind my ear. His thin lips creasing into an even wider, barbaric smile he had always greeted me with.

Stop. Do not touch- do not touch me. Take your hands off of my hair. I do not... stop... you drive me insane... do not. Do not- DO NOT TOUCH ME-

"We meet again, Gallaleigha."

"S-so we do, Andreas Melanchthon."

And I vomit all over him.