Her hand at the nape of his neck melts and she hugs him, the grip unambiguous. She presses her cheek against the top of his head. Her heart feels like it's caught in the back of her throat. They're not over. They're not done. It's just another battle to fight. And she knew that was going to be the case when she took this path.

"Forgive me. I can't help but imagine what you would look like if you decided you loved Barsoom and wanted to embrace our ways. You are beautiful to my eyes, scars and all, regardless of whether or not you ever set foot there."

He wouldn't even need the Voice of Barsoom to hear the sorrow and grim determination warring in her voice. That silver thread is so tiny, but she refuses to let go of it.