I Am The Game's Villain

”I’m practically a God, Vysindra,” he said. ”I don’t particularly want to outlive everyone I love. To watch the people I care about age and diminish and disappear while I stay exactly as I am. I’ve thought about it enough to know it’s not something I can be casual about.”

”Then find someone among the divine,” he said, more gently than before. ”Other Gods, beings who will endure as long as you do. Surely someone out there has caught your interest, someone whose lifespan might actually match your own.”

”You know,” Amael said, with a sideways glance and the ghost of a smirk, ”you are remarkably invested in my love life, Vysindra. Considerably more invested, I might add, than my own father has ever managed to be.” He paused. ”I genuinely cannot decide whether that makes me want to laugh or weep about it.”

Vysindra let out another rumbling laugh.

Amael’s smile lingered for a moment, then softened as he looked back at the sky.

”Well,” he said, quieter now, almost like he was speaking to himself, ”there is one. Someone I do love maybe. But she feels... out of reach. Impossibly so, maybe. And neither of my parents would exactly celebrate my interest in getting close to her.”

”And who,” Vysindra said, ”could possibly be out of reach for you and objectionable to both your parents simultaneously?”

Amael’s smirk returned. ”Oh, you know her rather well, actually. Better than most. You are the first race she ever created, born directly from her own blood.”

Vysindra went completely still.

Then his enormous amber-gold eyes went very, very wide.

”You love that Khaos Princess.” He said it like he was confirming a natural disaster. ”Merithra.”

”I never said that,” Amael replied immediately, inspecting the sky above him with exaggerated nonchalance. ”I said I love her rebellious attitude. The few times I saw my irresponsible father losing his composure was around her.”

”I don’t want to hear another word about it,” Vysindra said. ”Your taste in women is genuinely, profoundly twisted and I refuse to engage with it further. And I have absolutely no doubt that this Ephera is cut from exactly the same cloth as Merithra herself.”

”Ephera is a sweet girl,” Amael said, glaring at him. ”She wouldn’t hurt a single fly. She is the furthest possible thing from troublesome.”

”I do not believe a single solitary word you say when it comes to the women in your life,” Vysindra snorted. ”Now get off my wings!”