He is lovely and pure-hearted and fresh and clean.
He is still weak, but he knows how to bend the Light to his will, and does so in service to the Horde, deployed to my old battlefield of choice.
He drinks and gambles, but these problems can be rectified easily enough so long as they do not escalate into addiction. If I must do it through keeping his lips and hands occupied with my own, I will.
He does not know if this is what he wants to be, does not know if he can stomach the label, does not know what kind of judgments this will bring down on his head from his brothers-in-arms and from strangers. I could tell him what I have seen of it, but it is more fun to watch him squirm, and he will not learn any other way, the silly soldier.
It would be foolish, rash, and untrue to call this love...but it is attraction, and he is the first man to show genuine interest in me, and the first to touch me without violence in mind in weeks. This may be affecting my judgement. I do not know if he is worth breaking my vows for.
I will silence his objections, bury his rejections, and tear away his denial, until he is in so deep he can never escape.
[This parchement is folded and idly tossed into one of the blazing braziers edging a road in Orgrimmar]