There should be an alarm. A horn. A concerned third party. Something to alert a man that he is about to ruin a perfectly functional personality. There wasn't.
One moment Kael Ashenvale was a handsome, emotionally unavailable, intelligent, morally flexible, carefree war criminal. The next he wanted to be something else.
Better.
The desire was revolting. He examined it the way one examines a rash. With suspicion, mild horror, and the hope that it would go away on its own.
It didn't.
He actually wanted to be a better man. Gross.
Kael Ashenvale had never wanted to be a better man. He had wanted to be the smartest man in the room, the most dangerous, the most useful, and occasionally the most attractive, depending on the room.
