Doran was done with it all. He was done with the poison that had a name that did not fit it.
Solas.
Why was something so beautiful given to such a vile wretch? The people of Briar were not Solas' people.
They weren't Doran's either.
But they had been murdered! They had still found a grave from Brandon's flames!
It was unfair, darn it! It was a crime!
And Solas didn't care!
"No," Pan was sleeping. He was turning around, repeating that one final word.
He was in pain. Doran could understand it.
He hadn't been a king for even a month, and now, he was already faced with the death of his people.
No one should go through this. No one!
"Pan," Doran whispered, lying down next to the nymph. Solas was still tying them together. The soul bond was something the blonde might never break.
No matter how far away Brandon ran.
Or how much Pan begged.
Doran didn't doubt that even if he raged at the blonde, even if he pressed a blade to the man's throat, the bond would remain.
