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A bitter taste, sometimes unexpected, would cross his lips. The first time, he looked around, wondering what utter fool would try to cast such a spell against him, or would try to prank him. Tricks and jokes belonged between equals, or rivals, and he had none, at least not close enough to try something.

“Had is accurate, for the moment,” he thought, and didn’t permit himself to View her.

But the first time it happened, he Bogged all of the chickens, most of the goblins, some dwarves, and all of the fairies that he saw, or knew were in the vicinity. It was a knee-jerk reaction, and didn’t surprise those caught up in it. Living in or near the Castle Beyond the Goblin City carried a certain cachet, but also a risk; those residents expected it to happen to them.

Once he gained solitude, he went immediately to his study, and thoroughly examined the wards and defenses of his realm, finding no threats. He checked the weather, and confirmed that it was merely seasonal. He even checked the kitchen stores; the dwarven cook (a chef extraordinaire, and so never Bogged) was not missing any supplies.

He retired to his library, and began to research. Finding more information was… no, not a “piece of cake”… simple, once he came across an entry in Those Interwoven Connections, expressing the concept of various types of bonds between all manner of beings and things. This search did eventually lead him back to the tomes that describe the history, nature, and lore of the Labyrinth.

He knew that he shouldn’t have sung to her in that situation. Without a measure of reciprocal action, this link could easily prove to be an annoyance without benefit. Disgusted with himself, and with the consequences of her decisions as well as his own, he reminded himself to place the books and scrolls back in place manually, and with care, and then returned to his private suite.

Trying to settle for the evening, he allowed his thoughts to wander to his subjects, sadly neglected for three days. Nothing had gone wrong; in fact, things had run more smoothly under his inattention than his focus. Saving that idea for later consideration, he allowed the stench to begin to dissipate from the most thoroughly drenched of those recent swimmers, and retired to sleep.

Sleep didn’t come. In its absence – no, the cause of its absence – was more of that bitterness. This time it slipped just enough into his mouth that he actually tasted it. He groaned, and turned on his side. Before laying a spell on himself to allow for slumber, he sent a “reminder” to his personal staff to allow him extra rest in the morning, and then he welcomed temporary oblivion.

His dreams were mildly influenced by the events that he found disruptive, but not enough for him to give up on sleep. Just enough to sway his resolve. In the days to come, he would have to do more research into this blastedly annoying phenomenon, and see what could be done. Surely this bond could be modified; he knew not to try to remove it entirely. Severance of such a tie was not possible.
~~

The next morning, having made himself grouse at his elven attendants, he focused on his subjects and their genuine needs. He resolved disputes, oversaw the ground-breaking for a new common-use building, and even visited the town to admire the ever-present repairs. He received official messengers, and composed correspondence. And he consulted experts of different backgrounds.

The consensus was no surprise: do not attempt to alter or remove this link. Such an undertaking would cause irreparable damage to you both. He nodded or spoke his thanks to each of them, and continued his musing.

“Given that I actually feel this emotion of hers, I certainly have the right to know what triggers it.”

His decision made, the next time it occurred, he Viewed her. She wasn’t in any imminent danger, but was sitting quietly, alone in a well-appointed room of her family’s house. She sat, staring out the window as though watching for somebody who was already late, and who she knew wasn’t coming.

Another time, she was watching some form of entertainment with some of her girl-friends, and they were laughing while he wiped the bitterness away from his mouth.

Other events or moments triggered this: while she helped her brother learn and grow; when she bumped into a corner extra hard; when she realized that that teenaged boy she liked actually liked an almost-enemy of hers.
~~

As she grew, and the reasons for this emotion changed, he realized that he could discern from the exact flavor more precisely what she felt. Sometimes, too, he knew what prompted it. And he kept watching her.

There was one shade of emotion that began to come more frequently. Its increase was gradual, taking years to realize, and it surprised him. He would almost have described it as increasing in determination, had he permitted himself to be fanciful in these matters. He knew by now that another confrontation was inevitable, and he was equally uncertain of the outcome.

So he decided to set his own stage.
~~

She woke from a sound sleep, certain that she had heard someone calling her name. No, certain that he had called her name. Wait, he was still calling her name.

And she could feel an extra warmth in her ear, as though it had received a whisper.

She tried to shrug it off, attribute it to an unusual dream, stress, something she ate the night before, but she knew the truth. As much of the truth as she had context for in her life, at least.

From that point, she began to notice hints of his presence in her day-to-day routine: a whiff of that unique spice in the air around her, a bit of extra gravity-defiance in inanimate objects, the shapes in the clouds.

And she could feel a gentle caress, as though a leather-gloved hand were holding hers in comfort.

She finally realized that these encounters corresponded to those times when she felt something missing in her life, whether or not she succeeded in swallowing it down, channeling it into other pursuits, or allowing herself to wallow.
~~

One afternoon when she had nothing but time, she returned to the park. The obelisk remained surprisingly free of any signs of graffiti or other misuse, and there she waited. She expected something to happen. Anything… even a stray butterfly or a cloud to cross the sun.

Nothing.

He felt her sigh, and smirked, and knew from the taste crossing his lips that their time would be soon.