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Rovan wasn't a good person. Anyone that had met him in the last ten years would gladly confirm it. It wasn't that he was cruel, or malicious, or even bloodthirsty. The fact was that he was callous, unmerciful. If it came down to him and someone else, he'd pull the trigger without a shred of remorse.
He had done despicable things over the years. They were devilish things that could make even the most stone-cold outsider vomit and turn around in disgust. In a world of kill or be killed, he was king.
When Bevrian came back into his life, his throne began to wobble. His conviction to be the cold and uncaring survivor he was before was melting bit by bit every time he saw Bevrian. And when Bevrian smiled, it was like someone had lit a fire in his heart. Soon, his world had narrowed to just Bevrian.
Rovan was no longer the top priority; it was the tall, dark-haired man with eyes the color of an ocean he'd never seen before. The kind-hearted man who had given him food and warmth and protection when the world came crashing down. It was this father with a heart of gold that was willing to risk heaven and hell to make the world a safer place for his daughter. It was Bevrian, and Rovan couldn't bear the thought of losing him again.
There wasn't a large change in Rovan's personality at first, but it was just enough to be noticed by Powell on their first stop in his town. The town leader said nothing to either of them, but the way his eyebrow quivered every time Rovan made eye contact was enough to unnerve the unshakable man.
It all reached a crescendo when Rovan took Bevrian's place during Powell's little "show." At the end, when everything was covered in gore and viscera, Powell asked Rovan something that sent shivers up his spine.
"Just what is Bevrian to you?"
Rovan never answered. He jerked out of his seat and brutishly shoved the door open to leave. His whole body was shaking, causing him to lean against the once-expensive wallpaper in the hallways. With shaky fingers, he wiped as much of the blood off his face as he could before wiping his gloves against a dry patch of his suit.
What was Bevrian to him?
Bevrian was his world. Bevrian was his sun. He was what made life worth living again, and what made the ever-present possibility of death more terrifying. He gave Rovan hope for a better future. It was one without zombies, or corpse scavengers. Bevrian made him want to be good. Be better than he had been. He wanted to give Bevrian everything he had and was, even though he had, and was, nothing.
Rovan was not a good person, and he knew it, but Bevrian made him want to be better.