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enbeemagical · 3 years

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Any hc about our sparkly elf, Aaravos?

If not him, Runaan and Ethari?

OHHHH YES

OH YES INDEEDY

you see, I rp Aaravos, which means he likes to talk in my head even when I would rather he shut up so I can go to sleep. And he has Lots Of Opinions. Occasionally I learn things he’d rather I not know, and that’s where I build from.

okay! Headcanons!!

Due to his experiences, Aaravos doesn’t just hate Avizandum, he’s actually dracophobic.

He’s aroallo-- aromantic and allosexual (pan, usually). (I’m not entirely certain if I show that well in my rp, since Aaravos is so different from me. We’re both arospec, so that probably helps, but he’s allo and I’m ace and the blog is SFW, so idk anything lmao)

Yeah, Aaravos is good at flirting, but it’s never anything serious, you know? Flirting =/= attraction, and in fact flirting = no attraction. He’ll flirt with anything and anyone, but when he flusters and doesn’t quite know what to say, when he cuts the nicknames and teasing? That’s when you know he’s fallen.

Nicknames are just how he talks. He doesn’t bother remembering names unless they’re important to him. He’s sort of like Diana Wynne Jones’s Chrestomanci/Christopher Chant in that, except instead of calling Mr. Baslam “Mr. Bislow” he’d call him “dark mage.” He’ll use nicknames anytime on anyone, but name-names are only for people he respects/cares about. So he might call the dragon king “Avizandum,” because as much as he hates him, Avizandum imprisoned him, and Aaravos can’t help but respect the power it took to imprison him, an Archmage. (I still haven’t convinced him to call Amaya by her name, even though he says he respects her. Wait a sec--)

Revised nickname headcanon: He uses names when he feels close to someone. Not just respect, though that has something to do with it. Names aren’t something he takes lightly.

Okay, this got long, so there are two dozen more headcanons under the cut. They’re just in the order I thought of them, so they kind of jump around a bit, sorry. Angst and fluff.

Aaravos is basically a faerie. Not fairy like Tinkerbell; faerie like the high fae, like Oberon, Titania, and Puck. He’s extremely powerful, ethereally beautiful (though not all fae are), and he’s very careful with his wording.

Either Aaravos can lie and simply doesn’t, or he cannot lie and doesn’t want that to be known. (I choose to ignore the option of “he was lying when he said he never lies” because that hurts my brain.) “I’m not lying. I never lie.” Never, not cannot, which. Details, details.

He was betrayed. He ended up in the mirror because he was betrayed. They drugged him to seal away his magic so Avizandum could imprison him. I have several scenes of this in my head, but @alls-fair-in-pride-and-prejudice and I are using this is TSATS so I don’t want to give too much more away.

Ziard was Aaravos’s apprentice. They were kind of like Halt and Will in Ranger’s Apprentice. Only they invented dark magic together and Halt and Will didn’t use magic.

Dark magic causes nightmares until you learn it, if you don’t have training. Aaravos’s nightmares? The other Startouch elves leaving.

He’s afraid of being alone. He used to like it, spending hours and days and weeks alone with his books quite happily. But after he literally could not interact with anyone for three hundred years, he’d break if he had to be alone again.

He actually did break during those centuries. Multiple times. Screaming, crying, throwing things, trying to break things, windows, the mirror, anything. Even himself.

They’re antlers, not horns. Horns are one point, you get one (1) set for life, like adult teeth. Antlers have branches, and you get a new set every year. Aaravos... has feelings about this.

Startouch elves spoke like a Shakespeare play. This one’s kind of silly, and entirely based around the line, “Yes, it’s well appointed, but make no mistake, this has been my prison these past few centuries!” and me thinking that “well appointed” sounded very Shakespearean and he could just as well have said “Yes, it’s quite nice, but make no mistake” etcetera (and a bit that I keep wanting to write “thou” when writing him lately). Anyway. Moving on.

Aaravos is a good animal trainer. He’s got the patience for it, and he’s smart. He’s probably trained lots of animals, of many different species. Clicker training, probably; definitely primarily positive reinforcement.

The horse? Is not a horse. It’s a couch. (I only go in for this one because I love the image of Aaravos jumping around on his couch like a little kid, draping himself all over the room. Funnily enough, how he rides is entirely plausible, given that I’m not even drinking age and I can ride my horse very similarly to how Aaravos rides. He’s millennia older than me; he could absolutely ride like that.)

Aaravos killed Queen Aditi and Queen Luna Tenebris. That’s a big reason why he was imprisoned. Yeah, the dark magic was part of it, but Ziard lived 1,000 years ago and Aaravos was only imprisoned 300 years ago. Either he managed to evade the authorities for 700 years, or something else was the tipping point. Maybe a bit of both.

Aaravos has killed a lot of people, for various reasons. Sometimes for revenge (I’d like to think Aditi killed Ziard, which is why Aaravos went after her), sometimes just for being in his way (he discarded the poor Sunfire priest way too casually).

If he really cares about someone, he will kill for them? Die for them? Nah, not really, he’d have to be absolutely crazily stupid with love for that. Kill for them? Absolutely, any day.

Oh and he does the murderously protective thing where he’s like, “Oh, and if anyone hurts you do let me know. I will be happy to talk to them about that. 💖🔪😇 ”

He doesn’t like children. Like, there are a few he cares about, but by and large he’s like “children? ugh, no, yuck.”

He doesn’t fall in love easily, but when he does, he is in love. Period, fullstop.

For all his flirting and teasing, he knows how to respect no. I mean. Look at Xadia’s culture. Being queer is a total nonissue, women are actually treated as equal to men. Sure, it’s not perfect, but it’s hella better than here. Aaravos grew up in Xadia. He’s gonna respect people as people. Will he flirt insanely with everyone, whether they’re into him or not? Yeah. If he talks, he flirts. Will he make a move on someone who doesn’t want him to? No.

He loves cats. Need I say more?

He didn’t get any kind of trial, no chance to defend himself, to tell his side of the story. He was just betrayed and imprisoned.

Aaravos’s arrogance and vanity is a cover over some major self-esteem issues. Maybe he didn’t always have those, but during his imprisonment there were times he believed that he deserved it. That he was a monster, a soulless demon (like they said he was), and he didn’t deserve freedom. That he had no heart, that all he could do was hurt people, and anytime he tried to help he only ended up hurting more. Destruction and tragedy was all he could bring. He’d try not to believe that, forcing himself to remember good things he’d done, telling himself over and over again that he can help people he’s not a monster he’s not-- and he just. can’t. because he’s tried to help, yes, he saved Elarion and he killed for those he loved, but he killed, and not always to protect, and he even enjoyed it. He knows he’s done bad things, but he enjoyed them. Maybe he did deserve to be put in here, alone. Because if he deserved it, maybe when he’s suffered enough to atone he can be free, but if he was truly unjustly imprisoned then there will be no freedom. And this doesn’t make sense, and he knows it’s illogical, so he pulls on a mask of pride and confidence, hoping ‘fake it til you make it’ will work eventually, but underneath. Aaravos. Is. Broken.

Aaravos likes humans in general more than elves in general. They tend to be less judgey at him and they look up to him. Nice ego boost there, the admiration.

He also likes animals, especially now. They don’t judge him based on any criteria a human, elf, or dragon might use. They just care how he personally treats them specifically, and he’s good to them so they love him. They don’t ask anything more of him than that, no relentless demands on his time, and they can just happily coexist in companionable silence. Humans tend to be less good at that.

His favorite fiction books are romance novels. He does like the different ones, the cliche-benders that turn tropes on their heads, but sometimes there’s nothing like curling up with a cheesy, predictable, well-loved story and a cup of hot chocolate.

So, anon, this live up to your expectations?

#an ask! for me!!#anonymous ask #the dragon prince #aaravos #tdp aaravos #aaravos tdp #tdp theories #headcanons #okay about that super long one IM SORRY #i was listening to ''you will be found'' and ''battle cry'' while i was writing that okay #and battle cry was like ''i have no heart just ice and stone made up of nails and teeth and bone'' so OW oKaY #aNyWaY #tw self harm mention #tw murder mention #tw death mention #elarion #idk what else to tag #hope you liked this!

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beautifulterriblequeen · 4 years

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Breaking and unmaking

I’m stretching my Druids -> Assassins headcanon a little further today.

So far, I’m enjoying the epic angst that comes with assassins being blood-promise-bound to their duty for the last 1000 years, because the Oath of Féanor is one of my favorite disasters from the Silmarillion. But that means that even if Runaan is freed from his coin prison, he’s still bound to his duty. He’s not free enough yet.

S4 and S5 were hinted to contain some history to help give us a better look at exactly how everyone got to where they are in the present day. I know I’ve posted about hoping that Janai and Amaya work together to find out the Orphan Queen’s/Queen Aditi’s/Harrow’s ancestor’s secrets. I don’t have a strong opinion on how that all plays out, but I would love to watch them work together and learn stuff!

So, what if we get something like this for teaching us Moonshadow history: Rayla does find Runaan’s coin, but with his arm still bound, and him bound to his blood promise (maybe the same thing, maybe not), if he’s released, he’ll die. She can free Lain and Tiadrin--if she and Callum can learn how to--because her parents are not bound by a failed mission the way Runaan is, even if they are/were assassins and did give the Dragon Queen a blood promise, too. This will leave Runaan as the only elf trapped beyond reach.

Gosh, that seems familiar....

Okay, so this is Rayla we’re talking about. She just crossed half the continent to return a baby dragon during an actual war. If she realizes that Runaan is either going to 1) be trapped forever or 2) die if he’s freed, which will she want to pick?

Door #3. Runaan might be fatalistic enough to accept freedom just so he can die in Ethari’s arms, but Ethari wouldn’t want that if there were another way, and neither would Rayla. So: Rayla’s gonna rip up the 1000-year-old blood promise. And that means first learning the full history of the Moonshadow elves because someone didn’t pay attention in history class! which might be partly classified, partly lost, and partly hidden. Moonshadows be like. She’d quest as far as she needed to in order to save Runaan, but see... this quest isn’t just for him anymore. If all the assassins in the Moonshadow Forest are bound to this blood promise the way that he is, then none of them have ever truly been free. Maybe this is how Rayla saves her people, in a way Runaan never could.

She’s a hero, and that’s what heroes do. They save people. People.

But maybe she won’t be breaking that promise, exactly... maybe she can just unwrite it somehow. Balance it out. I’m not sure what that would look like, but it could take three very special components that were present during the initial oathmaking: 1) the blood of a Moonshadow assassin: Rayla. She keeps calling herself an assassin. Might be a clan thing, not a matter of actually taking a life?

2) the Moon Archdragon Luna Tenebris. Please let Rayla go on a dragon quest! lhfksdfhihfis That would be the coolest thing ever! Why haven’t we heard a peep out of Luna Tenebris, or even learned if she’s still alive or not? She’s definitely important somehow. Her reign lasted from the division of Xadia--aka the Merciful Compromise that split the land--until the Fallen Star. Those are some serious bookends.

3) a Moon primal stone. You’ve noticed that there are two different Moon primal staffs. The gathering from 1000 years ago, before the Border was carved, shows a Moonshadow elf holding a staff shaped like a shillelagh--a traditional druidic weapon.

But 300 years ago the leading Moonshadow elf has a different staff. Taller, more commanding, bearing a big stylized Moon rune, and looking a lot like Runaan’s chest marking, handle and all. Instead of a shillelagh, this staff resembles a sickle--another druidic handheld. Its larger cousin is a scythe.

Did they rework the staff? Possibly. If so, it’s probably to reflect the Moonshadow elves’ change in status, moving eastward and joining the Sunfire elves in active defense of Right Xadia,

But maybe that first primal stone is busy spinning some very big spells. I have two guesses what they might be, and there’s no reason they can’t both be going at the same time. ahaha Moonshadow duality Maybe it’s running the blood promise that binds all of the assassins to their word on pain of death. Maybe it’s running Aaravos’s ghost program on a dedicated primal server.

Maybe breaking the blood promise will break the mirror spell on Aaravos’s prison. Wouldn’t that be interesting! Rayla having to choose to free everyone, or no one.

tl;dr: Maybe the Moonshadow elves we see today aren’t quite the heartless monsters we’ve kinda been suspecting, insta-ghosting each other and hating humans and all. Maybe they’re victims of their ancestors’ oath, just in a different way than the humans the assassins take. And if the blood promise can be undone, then they can all be free again. No more assassins, no more killings.

And now for the angsty side:

Ir Rayla’s questing to make it safe for Runaan to return to the world of the living, that means Runaan’s gotta stay in the coin until it’s safe to come out.

Ughhhh. If something like this has to happen, and if it does mean Runaan and Ethari can’t kiss and reunite properly, then I really hope they can talk somehow, and that Runaan can at least tell everyone what he knows and all his thoughts and anything important he wants to say. In fact, I would like it if he couldn’t shut up for a while. He can’t use his Moonshadow stealth language and just touch people from inside the coin, so he’s gotta use that lovely voice. Aww. Can you imagine Ethari curled up with his precious coin in his fingers and Runaan’s just spilling his heart to him? Fifteen or twenty years of words that he’s saved up, spilling out in case things don’t work out and they don’t get another chance? God.

And some further angst that I realized had to go along with this headcanon: if Lain and Tiadrin swore the blood promise too, it makes a little more sense why they’d go to the Storm Spire to guard Zym’s egg. Devon said in the Deluxe Elf Interview that little Rayla couldn’t understand how parents would have a bigger priority than her, and yeah, that’s rough. But if it’s a sacred blood promise that’s holding them... they kinda can’t say no. And if the blood promise takes you out if you fail in your duty... well. That explains Runaan’s emotional lockdown, yeah?

He thought Lain and Tiadrin had run... and then perished. He thought they were dead. His dearest friends. Their honor and their lives, gone in one fell swoop. It caught him completely off guard because he trusted them so much. No wonder he got all eyeshimmery when he saw them in the coin. They were alive! Yay! And they were trapped! Boo! And they never broke their promise! Yay! And the village ghosted them for no reason! Boo!

Speaking of the village... if the assassins uphold the honor of the whole Moonshadow race by serving the dragons according to their oath--if the whole Moonshadow identity of stoic service is tied up in that blood promise--then of course the village ghosted Lain and Tiadrin. The sacred oath guides their entire culture, their values, it dominates their history. They’d yeet themselves as far away from such a breach of the ancient trust as they could. They all wanna be the Sworn, never the Forsworn.

They’d ghost Rayla too, not because she’d sworn the oath and then failed it--since she probably hasn’t made any blood oaths yet--but because not breaking the blood promise is so vital to who Moonshadows are, and Rayla ran away on a mission to take a dangerous human. That’s the entire purpose of the assassins according to the blood promise: Spare the humans’ lives, and then be responsible to correct every misstep they make from that point forward. An endless oath of guardianship that can outlive its usefulness and become downright dangerous and chaotic with changing times.

Dude, I’d really like to see Rayla unmake that promise somehow, save Runaan, and save her entire people from a good faith vow they made for the very best of reasons, far too long ago. And I’m loving the idea that she’d kill Viren, and then free Aaravos. Such a chaos child, I love her.

#tdp headcanons #tdp speculation #tdp #moonshadow elves #moonshadow assassins #rayla #runaan #oath of feanor #silmarillion #rayla headcanons #tdp angst #angst

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ladyandherbooks · 4 years

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Lover's List: Part 1

"Hey Runaan, what's your type?"

Runaan looked over Lain and raised an eyebrow in confusion "Type? Type of what?"

"Romance Runaan, what do you like? Is it girls, guys, both, neither, something else?"

Runaan turned away and grabbed the bucket that he'd left at the edge of the thermal bath. Behind him he heard Lain swim over and then the gentle press against his shoulder as his best friend gently leant into him.

"Come on Runaan, we're thirteen now, surely you have some preference."

"Why do you want to know?"

"Because we're best mates and what if I meet someone who's perfect for you but I don't do anything because I don't know that they're perfect for you?"

Runaan, back still turned, dipped the bucket into the hot water, filling it halfway before lifting it and dumping it over his head. He didn't reply. Lain sighed and reaching over to Runaan's toiletry basket drew out the shampoo and began lathering his best friends hair. After a few minutes of silent scrubbing and scalp massages he tried again.

"I know that you don't like to talk about these kind of things but it's okay Runaan, nothing bad will happen if you tell me. I promise, no teasing, no judgement. I just want to know."

Runaan sighed and Lain grinned

"Fine, if you must know. I like boys."

"Ooohhhh, okay, what kind of boys?"

Runaan, blush quickly spreading across his nose and cheeks looked away and muttered something Lain couldn't decipher.

"Sorry what was that?"

"Muscles, I really like muscles."

"How muscular are we talking about Runaan? Garlath buff? Blacksmith buff? Workout junkie buff?"

"Blacksmith."

"Okay good what else?"

Runaan ducked under the water, surfacing a few moments later, hair now rinsed and shampoo free. After pulling his hair from his face he sat next to Lain at the edge of the large bath. They sat for a few moments, listening to the other bathers chatting and lsughing as they soaked their tired muscles and recounted their day to their friends and neighbours.

"I don't know."

Lain sat quietly as we waited for his mate to continue.

"The truth is that I've never really given it much thought. I don't think I'll ever have time for romance and courtship, especially once I've become an assassin. I'll just be too busy."

" You don't know that. Love is crazy Runaan, you never know when it'll happen."

"It's a distraction from our duty."

"So is friendship."

"Lain"

"Nope, I'm not going to hear anymore of this. You will fall in love one day Runaan and you'll be thankful that you did. Because love is precious and valuable and is not given lightly."

And with that Lain splashed Runaan, continuing until his best mate retaliated and soon the baths were filled with the sounds of Lain's teasing and Runaan's indignant cries.

************

Lain grabbed a quill and a spare bit of parchment. Dipping the tip in ink he began to write, being careful to leave a space free at the top of the parchment. Once he finished he sat back and stared, trying to come up with the perfect title. Only one title seemed to fit, Runaan would hate it but he'd never see it so thankfully his opinion didn't matter.

Taking up his quill again Lain wrote three words at the top of the parchment, gazing at his work proudly once he was done. Runaan's Lover's List would come in handy one day.

#tdp #Runaan #Lain #Ruthari #fanfic

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raayllum · 4 years

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do you think that, after the whole midnight desert arc, rayla’s issues that were regarded in the Oasis scene (where she Finally admits everything she’s been feeling and then Callum says all those things to her) were forgotten? (imo i dont think they were, but i just wanted to know your opinion :))

Oh, not by a long shot. Not only do like, deep seated insecurities not tend to leave you overnight (if anything, they evolve alongside you) but we can see it in come back again in 3x08 in a different way. Because while Rayla learns the truth about her parents and to include Callum more in her decision making, once she feels free from the past, it never actually computes that fixing her parents’ mistakes weren’t something she had to die for her, either: “Don’t let your parents’ mistakes drag you down!”

Rayla in season three, even after her talk with Ezran in 1x08, sees sparing Marcos as a mistake: “It was my fault we were discovered.” I’d thought she had self loathing issues since 1x09 and then saw her repeat it verbatim, but worse

1x09:

R: I dropped it. This is all my fault. C: No. I should have trusted you. Things only went wrong because we kept fighting. R: I let you both down. I let the world down.

3x04:

R: I’m a mess. C: No, you’re not. It’s okay. R: I’ve lost everything. My parents, the people who cared about me, my home. There’s nowhere I belong now. C: That’s not true, Rayla. You’re going through a hard time, that’s all. R: That’s not all! It’s me, and it’s all my fault. I failed them. I let them all down. They’re right to reject me. I’m not good enough and I never will be.

I don’t think that’ll be something we see her fully overcome until s5. Not only because I think she’ll have her parents + Runaan back by the end of that season, but hopefully enough time will have passed for Rayla to realize 1) while sparing Marcos might not have been the right thing to do, it wasn’t a sign of the weakness, 2) her village Ghosting her was messed up and she didn’t deserve it, among other realizations.

In an ideal world, Rayla goes to therapy, tbh.

#thanks for asking #anonymous #rayla #raylangst #parallels #mini meta #analysis series #predictions

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littlemisssquiggles · 5 years

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Dragonic Musings: A Squiggle Meister’s Blunt Ramblings about The Dragon Prince S2.

So I just wrapped up watching S2 of The Dragon Prince and I’m going to be blunt:

///SPOILERS FOR THE DRAGON PRINCE S2 AHEAD///

#1: How is it that this series is able to fit so much into just 9 episodes without feeling rushed? It tells a lot needed for the season but still leaves enough to keep me wanting more episodes. The writing in this series is sooo good.

#2: Queen Anya, you go girl! I actually clapped for this character. This girl don’t play. Your queen mommas didn’t birth no fool. I also loved how they handled the backstory about the three queens; three mothers who went down as legends fighting to aid their kingdoms and their people. I don’t know how the LGBT community is going to react to TDP’s representation with the two queens. The last time we got a Netflix series created by people who originally worked on A:TLA and had same-sex lovers who died, it wasn’t well-received. So for what it’s worth, I hope there wasn’t any backlash of any kind.

The Dragon Prince thus far has been really good with handling its diverse cast of characters and the storytelling for this show is as sweet as a jumbo jelly tart. It’s that good. At least to me.

#3: Whoever creates the artwork used in the credits for The Dragon Prince---I love you. I mean, the whole production team at Wonderstorm and cast of this series has my love but I wanted to spot light the credits artist because I love how TDP adds a little something extra in the credits.

#4: Can someone please free the precious Strawberry Boi? His captivity for S1 was cute but now in S2, he needs to be set free. Free him.

#5: Speaking of Strawberry Boy, dear The Dragon Prince, how many husbandos are you going to keep giving me? I mean you already gave me Runaan, Strawberry Boy, Ezran’s new smexilious bodyguard---a beautiful chocolate man, yes. Loving all these wonderful flavours of husbandos that TDP is spoiling me with, yes and yes. But I already had my hands full with the beautiful husbandos we got from Book 1. Now after Book 2, there is Aaravos and might I say…HOT DIGGITY GIGGITY DAMN! Aaravos, you can whisper in my ear through a magical purple worm headset any day. It’s bad enough that he’s another sexy elf husbando (why) but his voice---oh my stars, his voice. His voice slicker than melted caramel drizzling on ice-cream. I should not like this man…but I do. I GIGGITY DIGGITY DIG THIS DUDE! How can one so evil be so fine? Why you do this to me, TDP?

#6: All things considered, I’m happy to see that Viren has found himself a new man after King Harrow. Good for you! Not good for everybody else but good for you Viren.

#7: Claudia, Claudia, Claudia…I do not hate this girl. As a Rayllum shipper, I understand that Claudia is a thorn in my ship however, that being said, I don’t hate Claudia. As a matter of fact, I want nothing but happiness for my lil witchy girl. I see her going down a dark path that I do not like. No Claudia, you too dorky and pure for the dark side girl. Don’t be like your daddy! I would say Soren needs to save his sister but he need saving too. They both need saving. Can someone adopt these two, please? Can someone GOOD adopt them? I want Claudia and Soren to abandon their dad and just go on their own journey to find their mother. Can that be their story for S3 please? Can we just have Claudia and Soren go find their mother, please. I’m worried for Claudia. She straight up Bambi’s mother that poor deer with magic. Yes she did it to help her brother but, this left me curious about something.

What if, Soren’s rehabilitation is only temporary? What if Claudia will have to keep stealing magic from living things to keep her brother from returning to his own paralysis while damning herself in the process? While that would be good for developing Claudia and Soren’s bond, I don’t want to see this because…I don’t want to see Claudia fall into the same path as her father. However…I think that’s what is being set up and I am worried. My dorky villainous children!

#8: I liked how they handled explaining death to children. That was great how they made that nice parallel between King Harrow telling Callum about his mom and Callum essentially trying to tell Ez about his father. I don’t think Harrow is dead though. His soul is in the green bird isn’t he? The same green bird that got away and will probably meet up with Ez in S3. Cannot wait.

#9: I felt a little bad for Bait this season. It looked almost as if Ezran had replaced him with Zym. It wasn’t like that at all since Ez was only trying to raise Zym. But at least we got to see Bait bond with Callum. That was sweet.

#10: Zym and Ez share a psychic link?! What the what? Okay, we going full Eragon up in this bitch. Okay. I dig it. It’s a way to keep Ez connected to Zym and essentially Callum and Rayla.

#11: As sad as I am to see Ezran go. As much as I’m sad to see the dream team---the dragonic trio split, my pathetic giant Rayllum shipping heart is performing cartwheels and summersaults right now.

Rayla and Callum are going to be travelling alone together (with Zym) for a whole season eh? How perfect ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Especially after that little confession moment from Rayla with Callum. I’m loving where this is going. I’m loving where they’re taking Rayla in terms of her growing ties to Callum. I’m just waiting for our dear boy to catch up.

According to Callum in C2 (I think), he and Rayla aren’t there yet. But fear not, I’m a patient shipper so I shall wait. But boy did I enjoy those little Rayllum breadcrumbs. They be delicious. I ate good for this season. RWBY take notes for RoseGarden.

But yeah, I think that’s it for my thoughts on TDP S2. I enjoyed this season. I had planned on watching it half and half but as soon as I got through the first 4-5 episodes, I couldn’t put it down. I ended up watching the full 9 in one sitting this morning.

To my friends who told me I would love S2, you were right. I did. I am looking forward to seeing how far this story goes. More and more layers to the world of TDP is being brought in and I’m interested to see where it will take the fans. I hope there is going to be a S3 and I hope that it will be a routine where we get a new season once every year. But we’ll see.

Overall, I can’t wait.

~LittleMissSquiggles (2019)

#squiggles talks: the dragon prince #the dragon prince #rayllum #callum and rayla #dragonic musings

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minttoy · 5 years

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all that we lost

CHAPTER TWO

Summary: Five years since the war has passed. Five years since she joined the Dragon Guard. Five years since she saw either of the princes. One of them is a King now. Rayla doesn’t consider herself blessed. How could she lose so much of herself and gain nothing back? The war has come and gone, and still she’s counting her losses. Amidst this fractured peace, she returns to Katolis to make up for lost time.

Pairings: Callum/Rayla

Genre: Romance/Angst

Click here to read on FF.net.

Click here to read on AO3.

For Chapter 1:

Chapter 1 (FF.net)

Chapter 1 (AO3)

She has a nightmare.

Swords clashing, bodies laying waste, the scent of blood and metal. Someone whispers draconic into the ominous air. There’s an ugly sound, a strangled cry, a loud splat. Her lip quivers as she looks unblinking. Around her, the wind’s whispers turn into screams. The trees hunch and cower in mourning. And then alarmingly, all at once, her vision goes red.

With a choked off cry, Rayla shoots up from the ground, grasps for her sword and strikes it hard halfway through the bark of a tree. Her eyes flash open.

She’s shaking, shivering, drenched in sweat. And then she takes a large breath, as if she’d just found an air socket, and kneels herself over. Her body knows the routine.

Close her eyes.

Plug both ears.

Stay still.

Remember to breathe.

The actions are ingrained in muscle memory, even in disorientation. The bridge, she calls it, from nightmare to reality. Year five and the impressions of war and bloodshed are still inescapable. As a child, she likened them to monsters hunting at night. They feed off dreams, ruin sleep, breed terror. They follow her still, but nowadays, it seems these demons like to tug, nudge, even jab every once in a while. They like to creep slow. They crawl as they please, but rarely in daylight.

The trick is to remember they’re not real, but that stopped making sense a long time ago. All her visions are real and difficult circumstances, conjured with terrible outcomes. Each night is a different mistake. A different failure. A different death. No matter what, the horror is the same: the war rages on.

Every night, she wakes to a different sky, but she’s always thinking, always trying to find ways to be thankful, thankful, thankful. If she doesn’t, then her efforts would have been in vain. So when the shaking subsides, she reaches into her bag, retrieves the small paper book, grips it in her hands like a lifeline.

She write lists. Odd, isn’t it? It’s one way of feeling in control.

She flips to an empty page, begins anew, thinks of all the worthy and wonderful things in the world. Like counting her blessings, but instead she writes them out, so she’ll never forget.

Runaan likes to count, but always up. Counting down is like a race against time.

The first time she caught him shaking in his sleep, this is what he’d done. He blocked out all noise, stared at the ground and murmured softly to himself. Back then, she didn’t quite understand, only knew it was out of character. Unaware she’d walked into something private and personal, she asked what was wrong.

He stopped himself, froze on the spot. And after a few minutes of swallowing his terror, he told her it was nothing.

At the time, she didn’t know to comfort him, so she did the opposite. “Elves aren’t supposed to show fear.”

He was silent for a while and eventually agreed with her.

She never brought it up again, but she doesn’t forget it either. At the time, she used to think he was invincible. Hard-wired, with potent strength. Daunting and efficient, as everything came easy with his speed and skill. Made of metal, because nothing pierced him.

Looking back, she wishes she wasn’t so tone-deaf. She can see now that night terrors run in her blood. The fear in his eyes that night told her things she never knew. He had his own fears, but seldom showed them.

But the morning sun has risen now. These monsters don’t appear in daylight, just spill through on occasion.

The first thing she does is grip the hilt of her blade, try to yank it free from the thick bark of the tree. It takes a few tugs, bends and pulls, but finally the blade is wrestled out. She sits herself on a mossy rock, takes the next few moments to sharpen it with a piece of whetstone. These blades are complicated crafts and she’s been taught to prolong their wear. Since joining the Guard, she’s already had them replaced too many times.

It’s a common practice over there. Coincidentally, so are the demons in the night. Some of the elves at the Guard are damaged beyond repair. Hopeless, too. How strange it attracts some of the most broken people.

Shouldn’t you have known this?

Rayla slows, and then stops sharpening altogether. A sigh, and then she rubs her hands on her face.

Didn’t you ask for this?

Carefully, she sheathes the sword behind her, stares at the patchy grass and her boots. The memories run deep. They are cold and dank, just like the stronghold. A place that seemed like hell in the worst moments.

She glances over to her bag, quickly recalls the night before. Her book of lists. She lowers herself to her knees and fishes it out. Some nights she can list out fifty good things. Other nights, only one. Sometimes it’s the same thing repeated fifty times. What had been the case last night?

She’s about to find out when she hears something in the distance. Rayla pauses, hand frozen on top of the book. She listens close.

Voices. Stomping. Horses. Not many. A small cavalry, but they’re close. The scene rings familiar. She sees herself in the window to the past, but this time, she doesn’t hide. She puts away the book and seals the bag tight, kicks it behind the rock. She reminds herself the war is over.

When they draw close enough, she glances up at them. Three soldiers, three horses and a bloodhound – they’re tracking her scent. She recognizes one of the riders easy enough.

“Rayla!”

The man on the white horse approaches closer. The other two stay a small distance back. She raises a brow, watching as Soren takes his time dismounting the horse. She lets him.

“Long time, no see, huh?” he comments, offering a grin and stretching his limbs as walks over to her. “You here by yourself?”

She plays along, looks around for other company, and then shrugs. “Yup. It’s just me.” To point out the difference, she tips her head to the soldiers standing guard behind him. “What about you?”

“Oh, you mean them?” He points to the troops behind him and she spares them another cursory glance. “We’re just following orders. Looking for you, actually.”

If he’s talking orders, it could only be one of two people. “Did Callum set you up to this?”

He shakes his head and then eyes her with suspicion. “No, King Ezran. Apparently you missed dinner last night?”

The terrible recognition sinks in, like something bitter settling in the back of her throat, and she has to smack herself in the head for forgetting. “Oh…right. Sorry, it must have slipped my mind.”

He waves it off, lightening the mood. “Nah, it’s fine! Think nothing of it. I just need to relay the message that you are A-okay.” She stares blank, not used to his volume and level of enthusiasm. Perhaps Ezran had suspected she left town. Suddenly, Soren hones in on her because he’s not getting the reaction he needs. “Umm, you are okay, right?”

She takes a step back, nodding once. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

He claps his hands together, and it’s done with so much spirit she flinches. “Great! You’ll be happy to hear he also extends an invitation for lunch.”

This is when she takes another glance at the other guards. Poised and stalwart. She doubts either of them could boast the same energy so early in the morning. She looks at the man in question and considers the offer. “Do you have an extra horse, by any chance? For the ride back?”

The question is futile as Soren lights up in recall. “Extra horse? Oh, damn. I didn’t even think about that.” He glances around, as if one could magically appear before them. “Hmm, that does make things tricky, doesn’t it?” He scratches his blonde mop of a head and contemplates it for a short moment. “…you know what? I can escort you back personally, if you don’t mind walking, that is.”

Her expression is unsure, and surprisingly, so is his. The first time they’re on the same page. It shouldn’t be a problem, she tells herself, because they live in a world of peace. “I don’t mind. We can walk.”

He nods and waves a simple command to the other guards, tells them to forge on ahead. The horses turn and gallop at speed, carrying them away and now they’re alone. Of course, he makes a grand gesture of it and waves her forward. She picks up her bag, gathers her things and starts walking.

They walk in step as he pulls the reins of his stallion. “Can I assume you came back for the festival?”

That’s been the story so far. “That’s right.”

“I haven’t seen you since the war ended.”

She knew she’d hear it. The most she can do is shrug and spare him an excuse. “I haven’t been back. The last time I was here, I think it was…” her voice trails off as her mind thinks back to the full moon rising that night, her body dissipating into thin air. “…well, you know. You were there.”

It makes her want to crawl into a hole, but instead she plasters a sheepish look.

He seems to brush over it. “That’s so strange. I thought you and Callum hit it off back then. I kind of assumed I’d be seeing you around more often.”

She frowns, casts her eyes down as she walks. “It didn’t end like that.”

They’re silent for a bit. Just the crunch of leaves under their feet and the soft whistle of the wind in their ears. While his eyes are forged ahead, she allows herself a glimpse of him as they walk. Just as she expects, there’s a small limp there. He bears less weight on his left side.

She looks away and grimaces. Seeing it gives the same kind of ache when she bandages what’s left of Runaan’s arm.

“You should get back on your horse,” she pipes up. At the same time, she tries not to sprinkle her words with judgment or concern. “I know the way back to the palace. If you want, you can wait me there.”

He shakes his head. “Nah. I need the fresh air and exercise. Besides, I am in much better shape than I was years ago. My limp’s gotten better too. Sometimes, I hardly feel it.”

He did notice her. She just didn’t want him to. Now that it’s out in the open, she doesn’t hesitate to clear the air. “I thought Claudia fixed you up.”

“Claudia used magic.”

The statement hangs in the air.

No need to say what kind. He says it firm enough, but not with any sort of anger. He only points out the two are not the same.

He stretches his limbs, his own way of shaking it off. “I guess you could say I never returned to my normal form.”

It’s become the unspoken truth. That even when the war’s been won, it’s impossible to return where you started. She knows, and even he knows, that he’ll never go back. It’s an uncomfortable feeling, akin to someone talking about an incurable or irreversible thing. It’s the bottom line and harsh reality.

“Does it get easier?” she asks in a slow and meaningful way, because no one walked away from the war unwounded.

He sighs. “Yes and no. I guess you could say it becomes more manageable. With time, of course.” He notices his own downward expression and then turns it around. “But…it’s nothing to worry about. I’m still a knight of the Crownguard, aren’t I? So it’s not like I lost everything.”

She puts on a pained smile, suspects his optimism is a means to cope. Hopeful, but without belief. She chooses to read between the lines. To hear what he’s not saying. Because hadn’t he lost his Father? How could he smile knowing his corpse is still rotting underneath layers of blood-soaked soil, in a land with no cause.

She shakes her head. “I’m sorry.”

He seems oblivious, but maybe she doesn’t give him enough credit. “For what? You didn’t cause this.”

It doesn’t matter. She knows the pain of losing something. “…I’m still sorry.”

“Rayla, had I known you had no place to stay for the night, I would have offered you a room.”

Ezran sits at the head of the table and she sits on his left. Her gaze hovers from one pot or plate to another, thinking there are enough bread rolls here to feed the castle. She doesn’t know how to tell him not to do things for her, like fetching her from the forest, preparing meals like this, offering her a room. The gesture is too great.

“I don’t mind. I prefer it, actually.”

He nods, taking a sip of stew. “How was the trip to the Banther Lodge?”

A loose shrug. “It was fine.”

“Brings back old memories, huh?”

“Yeah.”

He turns to her now, eyes on her plate. She’s barely picked at it. “Callum…” he starts, almost sighing. “…I hope he didn’t upset you or anything.”

Her tired gaze turns into curiosity. She wonders if he knows. If he thinks the same. That even after five years past, there are still lingering regrets about how the war was won. If it’s a frequent topic discussed in kingdom negotiations, hushed meetings, locker room talks between guards and generals. She’s curious because she hears it in her own country too, from skeptics and conspiracists and politicians alike.

They act as if the war’s been lost. Refuse to settle past transgressions. Diminish the work she’s put into achieving this frustrating and fragile peace. The thought makes her enraged, fuels fire in her mind. It’s the reason she opted out of politics after the war. Such a peculiar battlefield. A different kind of cold. She translates herself better with swords than with words.

“Not at all,” she pipes up with a forced calm. “We just talked. Caught up on a few years. Exchanged pleasantries.”

From behind, the heavy door creaks and opens. Both of them turn, eyes following Callum as he shuffles along and makes his way towards the table. He looks like he slept three hours. Rayla sinks into her seat because, of course, the moment she lies, opportunity arrives to bite back at her.

“Late, Callum, but how nice of you to join us.” He eyes the way his brother drags his feet across the floorboards with wry amusement.

Callum just offers a phony smile at Ezran’s jab as he takes the seat across Rayla. “Morning, Ez.” He acknowledges her with a nod. “Rayla. Good to see you here.”

“Likewise,” she returns quietly.

Ezran wipes his mouth with a handkerchief and drops it on his lap. He’s been waiting for this moment because he clears his throat, commanding their attention. “Alright, I know it’s early, but I want to get a few things clear since I have the both of you.”

Rayla pauses, bracing herself as she fills with awful anticipation. It’s been five years since the three of them have been in the same room together.

“As both of you know, the festival is tomorrow, which means I’ll be busy with preparations all day.” He leans towards Rayla, offers her an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Rayla. I wanted to show you around and give you a proper welcome, but maybe after the festival? I hope you can stay a couple more days.”

She lets out a small sigh of relief and dismisses the apology. “That should be fine.”

He smiles. “Regardless, you’re free to do as you wish during the festival. I’ve taken the liberty of informing my guards to assist you if necessary. If not, I’m sure Callum will help.” Rayla tries to keep a straight face as Ezran turns to his brother, whose attention seems vacant. Either he’s fatigued or his mind is occupied elsewhere, or both.

“As for you, have you made your speech yet?”

He shakes his head absently and reaches for his cup. “I’m…still working on it.”

“What about Lady Freya? Have you received word whether or not she’s attending? I mean, you did send her an invite, didn’t you?”

Callum almost chokes on his drink, coughs up a few times to clear it out of his system. He puts the glass down. Certainly he’s awake now. Rayla peers up from her plate to follow the exchange, watching as Callum glances at her before glaring at his brother.

Ezran thinks nothing of it, just shrugs. “I don’t mean to be a nag, but everything needs to be sorted by today if we want tomorrow to go well.”

He takes a few moments to calm himself. “She, umm…sent a message earlier. She can’t make it,�� he says quietly.

Seemingly finished with announcements, Ezran nods and then silence reigns.

Callum resumes his quiet disposition and stares idly at his lap. Ezran’s not far off as he sips his soup like nothing’s wrong. With the palpable tension creeping in, Rayla stares out at the open window, desperate for relief from this stuffy air. There’s no better way to put it than she feels the strain settling between them. It’s rather uncomfortable.

Before the tension silences her completely, she shifts towards the table, eyes latching to a basket of jelly tarts Ezran arranged the night before. It was impolite for her to forget, so she makes good on her promise, grabs a couple for her plate. It’s the first thing she eats today and no surprise, it’s delicious. Ezran’s noticed and he smiles.

Amidst the silence, she mouths him a small ‘thank you’ and the way he lights up gives her a rare joy. Because in that small, fleeting moment, he wasn’t the king. He’s the boy she met several years ago. Looking back, it seemed easier then. Somehow, fate had gifted her purpose. Filled her with enough desperation to bring peace. Enough that she betrayed her kin, took an uncalculated risk, found herself at death’s door. She could move mountains with that determination. At the time, she was just doing what was right. Things are different now.

“Rayla?” Callum pipes up from the other side. The illusion shatters. “I want to apologize for last night.”

It’s Ezran who reacts first. “You told her, didn’t you?”

Callum sighs in exasperation. “Yeah, I did. Go ahead. I know you’re angry with me. But you know what, Ez? I’ve kept it for five fucking years so cut me some slack.”

Rayla leans back in her seat. Funny how predictable the two of them are, having both just lied to Ezran about last night’s affairs. It’s rather troublesome how quickly things escalate when she’s involved.

Ezran stands, bent towards his brother. “I don’t believe it! You told me it was all behind you!”

“It is! That’s why I’m apologizing. I didn’t mean any of what I said. I was just upset.”

“That’s not how it works! You don’t air out your grievances and then apologize for them.”

They’re both standing now, except for her. Something hurts in her chest and this time, she can’t stop her hands from fidgeting and gripping the hem of her shirt.

“Ez, the whole thing is complicated. You don’t understand half of it.”

The topic is a tired one for the both of them too, it seems. “I don’t understand it? Callum, you can’t hold a grudge like that and then go about how we can improve peace. That’s hypocrisy and you know better.”

The timing isn’t perfect, but Rayla stands now, slides her chair back. She lets the creak of the chair against the floorboards interrupt their talk as she shakes off the nervous energy.

“Stop it. Please,” she begs, because this is more pointless fighting. The two of them turn to her and she looks to older one first before talking quickly. “Callum, I accept your apology. I hope we can put this behind us. And Ezran…” She sighs, ignoring the incoming pangs, which are increasing steadily. “…thank you, but you don’t need to protect me.”

She’s not innocent either. Kneeling, she quickly sweeps her bag over her shoulder before squeezing out of the dining table. “I’ll leave you two to sort it out.”

And with that, she heads for the door. She doesn’t spare them a second look, only focuses on making it out. She moves faster than she needs to, because her breaths are staggering and it’s spilling just how unsteady she’s become. Truly, she can unravel in a matter of seconds. She can’t afford to have them know.

She slows down and breathes a sigh of relief when she’s in the hall by herself. A hand reaches up to her heart, willing it to slacken its pace, even as her façade of calm visibly buckles and fades. She closes her eyes, tries to quiet down the dread and panic settling in her chest.

There’s footsteps behind her and she builds herself up again, tries not to hyperventilate even as she feels herself slipping.

“Hey, Rayla? Are you still here?”

It’s Ezran. She turns around in time as he reaches for her left hand to stop her from leaving.

He means no harm at all. His grip is gentle, and yet she yanks back her hand because all of a sudden, it is burning. She begs it not to, but it does. The world slows as a sudden, dreadful sharp pain sears through her hand and travels up her arm. She winces and grits her teeth together.

Fucking hell.

She hunches over, clutches her wrist and holds it close to herself, all the numb and tingly sensations flooding back like her wrists are tied again. She hears the exchange of vows and fancy words. Feels the thread snaking around her skin, sinking its fangs and venom into her blood. For a second, she sees her hand is blackened, crushed by the thin white thread of fabric. So unassuming but deadly. And still, even ten years past, she can’t explain this recurring phantom pain that she’s bound again.

The moment comes and goes, and then she’s snapped out of it. When she looks down at her left arm, it’s normal again. No pain. No binding. No black or purple skin. But now she’s scared to look up and face him.

“Rayla…?” He sounds frightened. “Are…are you okay?”

She doesn’t how long that episode lasted, but he’s seen enough. Sheepishly, she hides the arm behind her. “…I’m fine,” she says, even though she has nothing to show for it.

Concern and sadness paints his face like never before. To ease the mood, she attempts a smile, but it doesn’t come.

“Please don’t tell Callum,” she whispers.

He nods his head slowly and she knows she can trust Ezran to keep his promise.

She breathes a sigh of relief. Carefully, she raises her left arm. Shakes it lightly to get a feel for it again. Not bound, Rayla. Not bound.

He takes a moment to gather his thoughts.

“You know, I think I have just the thing to cheer you up.”

Out in the gardens, Bait clambers out of the small pond once he sees her.

Rayla kneels down on the grass, gives him a few rubs along the back even though it’s wet to touch. He croaks, nuzzles into her hand and for a second his hide glows to a playful pink. Funny he’s changed the least out of all of them. Grumpy and scowling. It’s how she remembers him and how he looks right now.

“I missed you so much,” she says softly, tracing the spots on his skin. “You haven’t changed one bit.”

He croaks again and the most she can do is pretend to understand. “You’re curious about Zym, aren’t you? Well, he’s grown a lot since you saw him last.” She humors the thought, surveys the garden around them and imagines the dragon. “Hmm…he’s taller than that tree, maybe as wide as this clearing…his wings are probably as wide as that building.”

Bait makes a grunt and she smiles. “Of course he misses you. I doubt he forgets his first friends. Didn’t the two of you play all the time?”

His eyes glower and then she remembers it better. Zym was quite the energetic creature as a hatchling. If anything, it was more like Zym wanting to play and Bait wanting nothing to do with it. Add that to the jealous and petty moments between them and the two made a dynamic pair.

“I know I haven’t visited in a long time,” she starts. “Things are…complicated, at home.” He croaks and she chooses to interpret it as empathetic. “I’m trying to do better, even when it’s hard. I mean…I’m here, right? Finally, after so many years.”

She imagines Bait nodding, agreeing with her.

She casts her gaze to the stone castle behind her. The legacy of this kingdom is both revered and haunted. The night of the full moon, when everything was set into motion, she made a significant choice that eventually changed the world. It was noble, honourable, easy to keep faith, but she paid no mind to the costs. In hindsight, she knows now even noble choices have consequences. She made herself a hero in the war, but an enemy to her comrades. Who knew you could be both? The price was steep, because only Runaan is left and even he is not whole.

Ralya shakes her head, tries to throw off the memory. Instead, she inspects the grounds, assures herself no one is keeping watch or standing guard. That it’s just the two of them.

She glances down at him. “Bait, can I tell you a secret?”

His expression doesn’t change much, or even at all, but she thinks there’s mild interest written there. She reaches for her bag and pulls it close.

“You can’t tell Ezran though. He worries enough as it is.”

He croaks at the familiar name, and she takes it as an affirmative.

She pulls out the small paperback and sighs. “You see this book? This is where I write my lists. Mostly, I write when I’m sad or scared or lonely,” she says softly. And as if the glow toad can read, she opens the book and displays to him the first few pages. She feels rather ludicrous at the moment, but she thinks the effort might be worth it. “They’re blessings, prayers, wishes, reasons even. Things I’m grateful for. I started writing lists because it’s like counting, and there’s no need to go into detail.”

She sighs. It registers this is the first time she’s said it out loud. “It sounds silly, doesn’t it?”

Her mind trails off as she flips to the last page. Her most recent entry, fresh from last night. She furrows a brow at the first word, friend, and then begins to read quietly.

Friend.

Artist.

Prince.

It clicks, because she remembers now who her nightmare had been about.

Partner.

Mage.

Confidant.

Lover.

Hero.

The last line is an incoherent scribble. She lowers the book, uncertainty clouding her mind. It’s odd, because he’d been written in the book before. Several times, but not like this. She’s never painted a picture of anybody with a list of words, like she’s trying to remember them and hold on tight. Perhaps it’s a wish, because she still wants him in her life.

“Rayla?”

She jumps at the sound, snaps the book shut and whips behind her, finding Callum slowing to a stop just a few feet from her. She puts away the book as discreetly as she can before rising to stand. Clearing her throat, she tries not to look so distracted.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he starts, raising his hands in surrender. “I promise I only came to talk.”

She swallows hard and forces a nod, because her mind is still flummoxed by the book. “O-okay. Everything sorted out with you and Ezran?”

He gives her a smile. “Yeah, it’s fine now. No more hard feelings.” There’s a small silence, because she looks on with anticipation as he figures himself out. He clears his throat slightly. “About last night…I just want to apologize again. I had no right to make those accusations. They were out of line. I mean, I used to have those thoughts, but not anymore.”

She shrugs it off. “Callum, it’s okay. Really.”

“No, it’s not,” he says, more to himself. “When I saw you standing there, there were a million things on my mind. I didn’t handle it well and I don’t want you to think I’m angry with you, because I’m not.”

She nods as her heart abruptly picks up its pace.

He lifts a hand to scratch the back of his head as he continues, “I mean, to this day, I still think about you constantly. Everything we did together, and how you made me feel. I always wish you were still here.” He pauses, face flushed deep it almost matches the red on his scarf. “Anyway, none of that showed last night, but it’s what I should have said.”

He’s talking like she remembers. A bit of awkward, a lot of rambling. Finding the right words to say even as he’s speaking. Trying finding the right time. And when he doesn’t know what to do, he spew outs words until someone stops him.

He glances up at her and sighs. “I think more people should know who you are, what you did for them. I wish they could see what I see,” he continues, giving her a sad smile.

She pauses and observes thoughtfully. “…Does it still matter? Even now?”

His gaze turns wistful. “It does, Rayla. Because…we lost so much of ourselves. The war gave nothing back.” His eyes lift to meet hers and she’s a little taken aback by the intensity. It’s not of anger or rage, but grief. The feeling is so palpable her face tightens, turns rigid.

“I was still a child then, and I saw a lot of things I shouldn't have. I lost my mom, my dad and…” You. He gives her a hard stare and then stops short of himself. His expression loses its edges as he casts his gaze to the side. “…anyway, now everyone thinks I’m some war hero. It doesn’t feel right.”

Rayla frowns. “You are a hero, Callum. You saved your kingdom.”

He sighs. “You saved yours too.”

She looks away, uncomfortable.

He glances at her, features sad and delicate. “That’s what I mean. You don’t like it either, when I lay it at your feet.”

She shakes her head. She’s no hero, but the title is a heavy burden. He’s a champion with much to atone and live up to, and sometimes it’s hard to do both. But the world still needs its figures. People to represent hope. Symbols for peace and victory. Living reminders that things are better and the war is done.

Rayla sighs.

“Callum?” she calls softly, waiting until their gaze is levelled. “…I forgive you.”

She watches relief take over him. His eyes are earnest, he smiles with gratitude. He’s lighter somehow, like a weight pushed off his shoulders. The feeling you get when the person you love decides they love you back and forgiveness is just as important. That’s what it feels like.

“Oh, okay. Thank you. You don’t know how happy that makes me.” And suddenly, he takes one of her hands, wraps it in both of his. She feels a spike of panic and familiarity gripping her at the same time. “It means a lot to me. Rayla, I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

She tries to smile back, but she makes a mistake – peers down at their linked hands for a second before glancing up at him. He doesn’t miss it. She knows he’s reminded of the void between them, filled with years of space and absence. He can’t reach out for her like before, back when they were comfortable doing this and so much more.

He lets go and her hand falls loose beside her. For some reason, her chest is hurting. It’s a different ache this time. Tinged with longing and hollowness. She thinks of the last time she maintained significant physical contact with someone, a gentle hand on her back or a reassuring squeeze of her hand, and she can’t remember.

He wears a sheepish expression as he looks at the ground. “Umm, thanks again.”

She offers a small smile. Rather boldly, she lifts his chin with a finger so his eyes meet hers. She hasn’t touched him in so long, but it feels necessary. “You’re welcome.”

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