Isera gazed coolly at the simple seeming man who leaned against the back wall of the room. His facial appearance was not unpleasant, for a human, but there was little truly remarkable about him that caught her interest. His equipment was substandard, obsolete even by the standards of the poorest of adventurers. In truth, he could have been any number of mercenaries or slaves who worked for her house.

His was the appearance of a common foot soldier, mere frontline fodder in almost every respect. However, that one aspect that drew her attention did so quite easily. There was an intensity in his gaze that belied his simple appearance. This was no mere bit of fodder.

"So, I am to understand that you rescued my child?" asked Isera in a calm and measured tone.

Blackthorne gazed lightly at the new arrival. He took a moment to measure her with his eyes.

Immediately the voices rose within his mind. No one but he could hear them as they said things such as, "Perverted freak!" or "You're raping her with your eyes, you degenerate fuck!" The longer he took in the sight of the beautiful elf woman, the more the disturbing voices protested his indecency and moral degeneracy.

Once he finished his review of her demeanor and features he chose to ignore the voices in his head and simply said, "Yes."

Saelil noted the tension between her mother and her beloved. "Do not become so excited to meet each other all at once. I do not believe that I can withstand the joyous nature of it."

Blackthorne looked to Saelil then nodded. "I'll try."

Her eyes lit up slightly. "You have my thanks, beloved."

Isera's estimation of the man improved slightly. There was a darkness and intensity that shrouded him which intrigued her, but it was his ability to generate such an immediate response from her daughter after speaking only two words that actually impressed her.

'Oh, little one... Since when do you speak so freely with anyone other than your mother?' she thought Isera to herself. A slight pang of jealousy skittered across her heart.

"You must have suffered many hardships until now," she said openly. Isera looked Blackthorne in the eyes and said, "I am Isera of the House Lothuialeth, mother to Saelil and indebted to you."

"I am Blackthorne. The name of my house is unimportant and best forgotten. You owe me nothing," said Blackthorne in a flat tone.

"Nothing? You think it nothing to rescue my daughter, future matriarch of House Lothuialeth?" asked Isera, her tone both incredulous and slightly insulted.

"I knew nothing of who she was, or of who her family happens to be. I helped her because she needed help," he said in a flat tone. "I refuse to become the sort of person who thinks he is owed something for helping a young girl escape from such a situation."

"An altruist? You do not strike me as some sort of paladin..." she said, a slight hint of acidity in her tone. "Surely, there is something you desire for your services rendered."

"Yes, actually there is one thing," said Blackthorne, his gaze shifting so that he stared directly into Isera's eyes.

Isera offered a mildly condescending smile as a single thought rose in her mind, 'Of course you wanted something from me, human. Only a fool would think a man with an aura as dark as yours would truly be altruistic when faced with the possibility of a major windfall.'

"Ah, speak your terms. I would know what such a noble, individual deems worthy for the rescue of my daughter," said Isera, the condescension in her tone when she spoke the word 'noble' was palpable and impossible to miss.

Blackthorne ignored her tone and spoke his piece clearly, "I want your promise that you won't allow it to happen again."

Isera's eyes closed then suddenly opened once again before going wide. Her Aura of Death manifested once more, and with even greater intensity. A normal man would have difficulty even meeting her gaze, or possibly even looking in her direction.

"What? Human you dare...!" snarled Isera as her hands clenched into fists.

Blackthorne stared into her eyes and refused to look away when the voices began to rail inside his head. He did not look away even when his heart started to wildly palpitate within his chest. Instead, he held his ground and demanded that his traitorous mind and body remain focused on the task at hand.

His mouth went dry. His eyes began to water slightly. However, the waves of sickening sensation that rolled over him did not dissuade him. In fact, the stronger the aura became, the lower the volume of the voices became. In some ways, the spiritual assault was a blessing.

There was but one thing he wanted in compensation, and he would have it. "Whatever it is that you are attempting to do to me right now, know that it does not work on me in the way that you intend."

"You insufferable little ... Do you dare mock the power of the matriarch of House Lothuialeth?" Isera focused her gazed upon him and her aura intensified further. Onion hopped up and down then began to run around in crazy little circles. A rapid pounding sound echoed from the door as the guards outside demanded answers, though the pounding soon stopped as the aura intensified slightly.

A gnawing sensation in the pit of his stomach combined with shortness of breath to further solidify the terror that his body currently experienced. The voices that railed inside his head previously, were muted entirely now. Blackthorne continued to stare directly into Isera's enraged eyes.

His simple words, sincere and direct, cut through the tension and denied the power of the aura she exuded even as he agreed with her. "Your power is clearly immense, and I do respect it. But it represents a blessing to me rather than a curse."

Isera reacted viscerally, it was as though she had been slapped. "This... it's impossible. Are you undead?"

Blackthorne merely gazed into her eyes, his body barely showing the truth of what it now experienced. Every cell that comprised his physical being figuratively screamed in absolute terror, and did so repeatedly with each passing moment. The aura that washed over him represented the most primal fear, the essence of death itself. It was something so potent that even his own normally vocal internal monologue was too frightened to speak ill of himself.

"No. I'm not so fortunate," said Blackthorne. Despite the fear, the panic that raced through his body, he forced himself to take a step forward.

Isera blinked owlishly. "You... if you're not undead how can you even move. How are you even standing in my presence? Impossible..."

He said nothing, but she spoke again an ever so slight quiver in her voice. "Most of my aura is focused on you... The fear of death itself... There is no man who can withstand it."

"I've been dead for half my life," said Blackthorne in a simple tone. "Why fear what I already am?"

Saelil and Isera both looked to him. The younger Lothuialeth remained silent, as she saw this as an important meeting between her mother and her beloved. Many things would be determined in the next few moments.

Blackthorne ignored their searching gazes. His aberrant psychology could withstand her overpowering presence, but his frail human meat was a different story. It balked at the very idea of going anywhere near the source of such a power.

He struggled briefly with his traitorous body and won the right to take another step forward. "I'll have your promise."

"Stay back..." said Isera, surprised by the odd tone in her voice. A less cultured individual might have sensed fear in that tone, but clearly such could not be the case.

"Promise me..." said Blackthorne, his face an ice cold mask. His lack of visible emotion granted him a disturbingly dark aura of his own, though it was not the sort of thing that was magical in nature. There was simply an air about him that set Isera's teeth on edge.

What the matriarch did not know was that Blackthorne's emotionless face was due to some latent skill that allowed him to resist auras. No, his resistance had nothing to do with stats or skills in the slightest. It was instead due to his focus on one thing, the comparison between Saelil and his own little sister. He refused to allow her to go through what his sister did, and also have to deal with a mother who did not seem to care that it was happening. He'd had enough of such negligence to last a lifetime. He failed to protect his sister from such negligence, he refused to fail Saelil as well.

Blackthorne desperately fought the urge to pass out from the magically induced fear that raced throughout his body as he forced himself forward another step. His face still schooled into an implacable mask, he took yet another step. Soon, he took multiple steps at once.

Isera backed away from him, her own chest beginning to heave up and down in fright and some other strange sensation she could not place. The dark figure strode slowly toward her despite the power of her aura. It was impossible, a situation straight out of a frightful tale!

She could have destroyed him a thousand times over. Even now it would take only minimal effort to electrocute him, or burned him to ash. Yet, the sight of Blackthorne coldly walking through her formerly impenetrable aura, his eyes ablaze with an almost feral light, caused that strange sensation that rose up within the heart of the Lothuialeth family's matriarch to intensify with each new forward thrust. Each step of his casual penetration caused her heart to beat ever more quickly.

Blackthorne walked within arm's reach of the shaken elf woman then reached up and pressed his hand to the wall beside her head. He leaned in close and said, "Promise me."

Isera's breath came quick for a moment as her eyes widened ever so slightly. Her aura penetrated completely and unable to repel him in the manner of her custom, a kaleidoscope of thoughts exploded inside her mind. Her cheeks took on a rosy glow and her lips parted gently. Tremulously, she said, "A-anything..."

The deathly aura that surrounded her died away quickly, but her expression never changed. Wide-eyed and flush from the events that just occurred, Isera could only breathe heavily and await the strange man's retort.

He looked into her eyes, and then leaned in closer. His gaze intense, and his forehead pressed lightly to hers he repeated himself. "Promise..."

"I, Yes... I do..." said Isera, her chest rising up slightly in the process even as she arched her back a little.

His mind nearly gone altogether at this point due to the strain he was under, began to speak once more. But was distracted by the emergence of a new voice. "Beloved, do you not think it improper to seduce my mother without my permission?"

Blackthorne blinked slowly then looked down to Saelil. She had her arms crossed and an imperious expression on her face. He looked back to Isera and noted that she had closed her eyes and tilted her chin up, her lips parted in a manner that almost begged that they be kissed.

The aura of death gone entirely, his body began to recover from its terror. Coherence slightly improved, he sighed loudly and pulled away. "This is going to be a strange sort of day, isn't it?"

Isera's soft pink tongue slipped out gently and traced her lips, though she did not open her eyes. A soft hopeful murmur escaped her lips a moment later.

"Mother..." said Saelil in an annoyed tone.

Isera gasped in a soft breath of air, but did not speak. She could only stare at Blackthorne, a slight hint of drool forming at the corner of her lips.

"Beloved, you seem to have broken my mother..." said Saelil in a slightly accusatory tone.

Blackthorne shrugged at her. "Not my intention."

"Don't chastise your father, dear," said Isera a strange light forming in her eyes.

"Mother!" cried Saelil indignantly. "He is mine!"

Isera unleashed a surprisingly girlish giggle then touched her fingers to her lips. No kiss had occurred, but it was obvious that her imagination had run away with itself. "I do. I do..."

A loud groan escaped his lips just before Blackthorne covered his face with his palm. A strange day it shall be, indeed.