Devotion

A month in, she sought him out. Shoved into his shoulder with her own, a burning familiarity. "Don't lecture me about my duty, alright?"

She could hear the old words, bitter still beneath the dust of centuries. He didn't speak them, though. Instead, he put his hand out for the bottle she'd brought. They passed it back and forth a while.

"I've grown uncertain about duty, myself," he admitted.

"Oh, yeah?"

"I'm beginning to believe it means less than devotion."

Val could see it. What you did because you should, and what you did because it mattered.

"Seems fair enough."