Griffith sprawled upon his throne, one leg looped over the chair arm, and idly chewed at one of his fingernails as twilight's long shadows crawled across the hall. He knew it wasn't a very regal pose, but then again he had other ways to impress his subjects. Besides, he had dismissed his courtiers as the shadows had lengthened. He wanted to be alone.
She materialized out of the nothingness beside the throne. Alabaster white skin, sea green hair, crystal blue eyes ... as beautiful and as deadly as any in their race.
She curtseyed before him. Without preamble she said, "Brother-King, he has taken the baelit."
"I know." Griffith replied, and smiled.
"He he slew ... Are you not worried?!" Anxiety made her voice almost shrill.
"My sister, have I never told you of my days in the dungeon? The darkest cell of the deepest dungeon Midland had?"
She shook her head.
"Endless days. Hot pincers, branding, razors, the boots, the claw, the rack, and finally they cut the tendons on my hands and legs and tore out my tongue and laughed as I flopped about like a fish out of water.
"And through it all, I thought of him. I thought of Guts. The only man who ever bested me, the only man serving under me who ever tried to part his destiny from mine, the only man who ever clouded my vision of the path I knew I must take to achieve my goal. Through it all, I wanted to see him again.
"So, no, Sister, I do not worry. I long for him, as I long for nothing else in this world. And at last, I think, I might have him."