Since meeting Wolf, it has become clear to Lilith that the effort she had previously invested in Solomon is not worth a moment of her time anymore.

Every single day, the young man shows her something new.

Every single day he will find a weak spot of hers that she was unaware of before. And as much Lilith she despises him, she can deny no longer that something must be done, for she is almost sure of it now, that he is the one from a prophecy she received long ago.

The enemy.

A man destined to become her lover eventually, who she will hate as they wed. Who will obey her every command, as he leads her to victory.

She squeezes the artefact between her fist and strides out of her tent. It continues to pulse, like a heart in her hand.

Lilith did not expect to find her forever-thing so soon. And although there still awaits a few trials before she can confirm his identity, she figures it might be good news. With the war that is upon them and stirring, it would be in her best interests to steal her spoils before anyone else gets their hands on her property.

Her steps falter, then stop, upon reaching the front of Wolf's tent. It seems she will not be able to sneak in, for he has taken the liberty of weighing down the flap that serves as an entrance with two heavy stones at either of its sides. Smart, Lilith thinks, with a nod of approval as she stares at the rocks. One can never be too sure, even when surrounded by an army.

With a sigh, then a huff, she whispers, “Wolf? Are you asleep?”

For a moment, there is no the reply. She considers entering. Surely, Wolf would understand she’d want to check in him. Not mention that—Lilith smirks—it isn't as if she has come empty-handed.

He will probably appreciate the news, if not thank her for it.

However, before Lilith has a chance to act on her thoughts, he answers her call.

“I know better than to shut my eyes when someone who planned to murder me today is still roaming the perimeter.”

The head of guard purses her lips together and holds in her laughter—she will have plenty of time to mock him once she is inside his tent, but right now, she must stay as silent as one can be. Anything else would draw attention to them both and, coincidentally, kill any possibility for negotiations with the young man, once the guard have their eyes on her. On them.

“That was only once,” she retorts, her voice calm, yet close to the edge tipping into rage. “I need to speak with you. I'm coming in.”

There is a gasp on the other end of the tent's wall. “No, wait, don't—”

Too late.

Much too late.

Lilith has already barged in.

She’d assumed he simply didn't want to see her, however, once she notices him naked, with two fingers lodged between his thighs, the laugh she’d been holding in immediately gets the better of her as the tent's flap closes behind her figure, killing the entirety of her shadow that lingered at her feet in seconds.

“Do you have a problem with me?” Wolf doesn't bother closing his legs, nor moving his palm away. Though, he does reach for the hilt of his sword with his free hand, which—Lilith assumes—means he isn't as confident, or comfortable, as he is trying to appear.

“Well,” Lilith chuckles. She brings a single finger to her lips, and admires the view. For what it is worth, Wolf’s personality is terrible, but there’s no denying that he’s quite the attractive young man. “Not like this I don't.”

“You're interrupting me,” he snaps. “Piss off, you thirsty pig.”

She steps forward and takes a seat on the edge of his bed. “You're free to do whatever you wish after I've talked to you.”

This time, he does close his legs; much to her dismay. “Stop staring at my genitals. It's fucking creepy.”

She scoffs. “You're the one who's naked in the bed I lent you.”

The statement does little in terms of affecting him. Wolf merely frowns, then wipes his fingers against the sheets.

But… All right, perhaps she was staring a tad too much. Or, more like, she couldn’t look away. It is not often that she sees a man with a vagina. In fact, it is never. And Lilith admits she is flustered, and a tad curious, too. She hadn’t thought it possible to seem so masculine with such a body. Until today. Because seeing Wolf this way—surprisingly—does not change how Lilith views him at all.

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Sorry, she thinks to herself as her head recoils into her shoulders, even if, at this point, it is unclear what Lilith is sorry for. There have already been too many a moment where she has wronged Wolf. It would take the longest scroll in the land for her to write down her apologizes.

Sometimes, Lilith wishes she could fix her personality.

Wolf doesn't bother slipping back into his clothes. He sits cross-legged, then faces her, from the other side of his mattress. “So, do you give midnight talks to all of your subordinates like this, or is it just me you've decided to pick a fight with?” His fist is still tightly wrapped around his weapon.

Lilith hums as if she were actually thinking about it. “Interesting question.” She cocks her head. She settles with saying, “Usually, they would at least make themselves look decent after being caught.”

Yet, again, the young man couldn't care less about her claims and only shrugs. “You've seen my junk already,” he tells her. “And it's likely I'll be dead in less than a thousand moons. So, sorry to disappoint you, lady, but whatever opinion of me you end up with once we part ways isn’t really important. I don't have time for petty emotions like shame.”

She bites her lip, and holds herself back from clicking her tongue. “I could tell.”

His eyes meet hers. The sound of thunder causes the air to rumble. The tent is illuminated with bright flashes of light for a couple seconds, before it returns to bleak darkness again. Wolf cocks his head to the side. “Then why did you even ask me?” he mutters. “I thought you were a strategist. You should know better.” His expression is a smug one. It takes everything Lilith has to ignore his bitter taunts.

Her lip twitches. Insolent bastard, she thinks. “You were right about what you said before.”

“I said a lot of things.”

Lilith grabs his wrist. “I do need you,” she says, and it is then that she realizes he is shaking. And Wolf probably knows she is aware now, too, for his eyes widen—not by much, yet enough for her to see—as he shoves her away, then stares into the black of the tent's shadow like he has seen the devil.

“Don't touch me.”

“Because you are naked?” she asks him.

“No.” His voice is stern. Their gazes meet again. His, is full of hate. “Because you are you,” he tells Lilith. “Because I do not trust women, who ask me to lay with them one day, then try to stab my back the next.”

Silence.

She pauses. There is more thunder. He adds, “Why did you come here, really?”

“To talk.”

“You're never interested in talking.”

Lilith grins. Above them in the sky, the clouds have cleared, and the moon spills shades of blue inside their pitiful tent. Her hand crawls back toward him, then settles on his knuckles. “A deal,” she says. This time, Wolf does not flinch, nor does he look away. “I want to strike a deal.”

“With me?” His throat is dry. The question comes out as a croak, and Lilith can tell he is shivering now; surely from the cold.

She nods. “With you. But… you should wrap that blanket hidden under your behind around your shoulders first. You know, before you freeze to death.”

He mumbles something she does not catch and finally releases his sword. The scent of sex lingers in the air as he shifts, and actually follows her suggestion, for once. It is good progress, Lilith thinks, though not enough for her to get carried away. He is nowhere close to what one could consider obedient.

As the storm outside dies down and leaves a flutter of rain to pelt the flysheet over their heads, Wolf sits up, straighter. His body is shielded by the warmth of grey wool. He does not seem to be shivering anymore.

He clears his throat. He says, “I'm willing to listen, but I won't accept anything coming from you.”

“You already did though.” He is starting to get on her nerves, and she is starting to think she may not have the patience for this after all. “You wouldn't be here if it weren't for me.”

“You promised me I would get to see my friend again.”

She bangs her fist against the mattress then leans forward in disbelief. “It's only been two days!”

“Only two days, you're right.” The rain ceases to be. Wolf crosses his arms. “Two days,” he nods, “and I've already been threatened by death, had to save someone from death—not to mention I'm being treated like a prisoner.”

“I don't lay with prisoners.”

“Your offer was still inappropriate.”

“I'm sorry.”

He laughs. “You'll have to try a bit harder if you want me to believe your lies.”

Lilith stretches her arms. She rolls her eyes. Soon, her back finds the mattress as she allows herself to fall onto the bed. “You're right.” Lilith peer up at Wolf, who has surely realized—just as she has—that it would be easy for him to dispose of her when she is splayed out before him like this, in such a vulnerable position. “I'm not the least bit sorry,” she tells him. “And I lack mercy for my men, and my lovers alike.” Her confession seems to leave him stunned. “What?” She scoffs. “You think I wasn't aware of my behavior?”

“Then why do it?” He narrows his eyes, then shakes his head. “I don't understand. Good leaders rule with peace, not violence; and there is no need for you to coerce others into having sex with you. I'm sure you would find people without being a complete asshole. You're not ugly.”

“Oh?” One of her fingers circle the space between them. She hums. “So, you find me attractive, then?”

Wolf shies away from her gaze. “I'm seeing someone.” Whoever this someone is seems to have summoned a blush across his features. Interesting, Lilith thinks. He is smitten to that extent, with this someone?

“I would appreciate if you stopped what you are trying to start.”

His statement takes her out of her thoughts. Lilith considers arguing that this someone likely already found another lover once he was thrown in prison, but this would not help with getting him to agree with her plans. For once she keeps her mouth shut, and takes out the artefact from her pocket instead. “Here.” Lilith hands it to him. “This is what I wanted to show you.”

Wolf cringes. “The hell is that?”

She places it between them, watches, as it pulses—sometimes quickly, sometimes slower, sometimes so slow, that it is as if it will stop entirely, until it starts up again, as if nothing had ever been amiss.

“Lilith? You planning on answering?”

Lilith clears her throat. Although she isn't sure whether her response is a lie, a hunch, or the truth, she meets his gaze again and parts her lips to speak anyway: “It's Lir's heart,” she tells Wolf, who seems to shrink in on himself as a certain horror takes his features without a bout of mercy.

His hands tremble as he reaches for the stone. His voice is soft, a whisper now, that melts into a gasp.

Wolf grabs the artefact. Its gentle glow illuminates his face. “What?”