This Will Be Fun

by E.B. Asher

He would be true to her because it was the right thing to do, and doing right was all he would have to hold on to when heroism was no longer needed.

Responsibility had robbed him of frivolity. Heroism demanded sacrifice. Heroism demanded he remained apart. Friendship required the opposite.

Fear and desire both were no heroes. They were rogues. Like him.

The realm was witnessing how easily rich men who loved themselves could change into cheerful cultists who hated everyone else.

Since they’d set out on their quest, he’d wrestled with the rogues within him. Fear, fury, desire. Yet he knew now the greatest of them was love. For nothing quelled heroism like knowing there was something grander still in this realm for him—something no duel, no victory, no quest could match. He did not need to be great. He needed only to be good enough for the people he held dear.