Once behind my chamber door, I immediately locked myself in and sat heavily upon the floor against the bedpost, trying to make sense out of the chaotic whirl of my thoughts and emotions without notable success. The execution that I had witnessed only out of reluctant duty had affected me with disturbing intensity; instead of pity and revulsion, the gruesome spectacle had aroused a twisted lust I could never have anticipated beyond the accepted boundaries of battle. I had not only taken a perverse pleasure in the excruciating death of a woman I had never even met before, let alone been wronged by, but compounded that shame by inflicting a different sort of pain myself. I had never in my life taken a woman against her will, and it horrified me that I had done so now Wallowing in self loathing and confusion, I buried my face in my hands and exhaled a noisy, disgusted huff of humid air between my interlaced fingers. I was startled out of my morbid reverie by an abrupt, purposeful rapping on the heavy oaken door. "What." I responded flatly, wishing irritably that whoever it was would go away and leave me alone. "Autarkis. Come down and share a flagon of ale with me," insisted a voice that I immediately recognized as Morgan's, without much surprise. I am still not entirely certain what quality he possesses that has always made it impossible to consider ignoring or refusing anything that comes out of his mouth, no matter how unreasonable it might be. At that particular moment, I felt myself in no position to argue with anyone or anything, much less Morgan Brisbane, anyway. I reluctantly unbarred the door, and stepped out into the hallway. "Come," he said, with characteristic brusqueness. Briefly, his fierce brown eyes locked with mine; I looked away instinctively, as if he could read my very thoughts, although this, of course, was ridiculous. He has always had a way of making me feel like an open book, and my pages were currently rather stained. "You look as though you could use a drink," he added, starting down the corridor. Indisputably, he was correct about that much. I forced a sickly smile, and followed him. (Story/Pics collaboration with Carneithwen)