The first of the intrusive thoughts was: she smells like lilies. And, as the bubbles filled world stole him from his senses, that perfume was as invasive as the queer thought that invaded him heavy like an anchor that changed his course from the battle in which he was immerged.
Casablanca Lilies. Why did he know that? There was no flowers in the Dark Kingdom, nothing grew out their barren caves, there was no reason or way for him to have that knowledge.
But, somehow… he knew.
And when he turned to see whom or what had targeted him from behind, there she was, and it was like he had never seen her before despite their many encounters on the battle field.
The bubbles made her figure seem diaphanous, half-hidden, like a memory.
And memories rained over him like a fire storm, each of them burning his skin, his heart.
And that woman that smelled like lilies, he has been with her before, he had held her hands, had threaded his fingers through her long raven hair, he had held her firmly against his chest and seen her pale face colour with a kiss. That woman, that appeared to him now no more than a young girl, once had his heart on a silver plate.
But how? None of that made any sense! He belonged to his lady Queen Beryl, he owed her everything, and she said that he was created for and by her, so what were those thoughts? How come he had those memories?
No. Certainly, that was another trick from those senshi. Certainly, when he regressed to his lady she would shine dark rays of reason over him that would free him from that terrible sorcery trying to fool him, rob him from truth and loyalty.
So, when he found himself defeated but back to his icy rocky lair that he so well knew and trusted, he could never imagine that confessing his confusing thoughts to the one he would forever be loyal to, by her he would be betrayed and condemned to the endless sleep.