#Sanctos ft. Demetrius Sulvarin II.

[eueclid]

The Dragonborn doesn't know where he is when he finally wakes. His limbs feel heavy, his eyes burn and his mind is foggy. He hears some shouting and heavy footsteps, but he's still unsure of what's happening. Perhaps if he rested his eyes some more . . .

When he wakes again, he doesn't have to guess who sits at his bedside. Clearly, he can see Demetrius sitting beside him. Holding his hand. Ásgeirr lets out a soft groan, attempting to sit up but ultimately decides to continue laying down. He stayed. He stayed. Ásgeirr came for him, and Demetrius stayed. He can recall his return from Sovngarde — his cry of Dremrahgol through the Skyrim sky, watching him land and transform just in time to catch the Dragonborn as he collapsed after the defeat of the World Eater. It played clearly in his mind. He didn't remember anything after that. Just here, with his hand being held and the nicest pair of eyes staring down at him that contained some level of concern. “ Hi los het. ” He says softly, as if he were afraid someone may hear.

@sanctos: I thought you were dead.

The low, rumbly sound of Demetrius' voice is a comfort to him, one he hasn't felt in so long. “ Dima. ” He says quietly, reaching out to try and cup the face of his . . . friend? Companion? Partner? He didn't know. There were a lot of conversations to be had, about the fight between himself and Alduin, about the kiss they shared before he traveled to Sovngarde. They had all the time in the world now. “ Hi meyz. ” He whispers, then musters all the strength he could to sit up, allow them to be on the same level. “ Zu'u daal wah hi. Zu'u dein dii vahrot. ”

[denouemente]

It excited him, getting to ride on Demetrius' back. He had his own dragon, yes — and what a fine dragon Fulkaalbo was! But riding him felt nothing like being on the back of his partner, of his love. Demetrius was already in his dragon form when he made his way to the entryway of their home, something that filled him with glee. His scales, a beautiful black that shone, and those beautiful golden eyes he so loved to peer into. Ásgeirr had seen his dragon form plenty of times now, and it still took his breath away.

“ Dima, ” He says softly, approaching @sanctos with his hands behind his back. Once he's close enough, Ásgeirr rests his hand against his partner's snout, and leans down to press a kiss to it. “ Perfect, as always. ” He remarks, a soft giggle escaping him as the much larger creature bumps him with his nose. “ I've acquired some new leathers and I thought now would be the perfect time to test them out. What do you think? ” The last question is asked in Dovahzul, and the Dragonborn steps back, arms out to display his new attire.

[rhaenyrsa]

He was a peculiar thing indeed, this Demetrius. It was as if he came out of nowhere, this stoic man with something she couldn't quite figure out. Something off. Perhaps what fascinated her most of all about this new person in Dragonstone was where his loyalty would lie — both the Blacks and the Greens had dragons. She's hopeful that them being at Dragonstone was a good sign. If it wasn't, the Gods had a funny way of fucking her over.

“ Demetrius, yes? What house do you hail from? ” She can't recall a Demetrius from any of the houses, but perhaps he was able to keep from being found out. By everyone in her house and the House of Velaryon. And the other houses in the seven kingdoms. “ Circumstances are . . . strange as of late, but please be assured that we're thrilled to have you with us. ”

@sanctos: It's not supposed to be like this.

A bit of an astute reaction, she thinks, but warranted. She knows the strength the Greens have — something that's backed, while the Blacks rely on promises and faith. “ You're right, it's not. ” Honesty would work best here, right? Demetrius from an unknown house. Better than nothing. That feeling she had when they first met — it was stronger now. Maybe inviting him in would explain it. All of it. “ The Usurper took many things from me. My throne, my city. All of the lords who swore to me when I was named heir have been bought by his false promises and stolen gold. It's not supposed to be like this, but it doesn't always have to. You can help me, Demetrius. I know you can. ”

[eueclid]

They're taken aback by how much they like the sound of Demetrius laughing — the way his normally severe face contorts into a smile, and that happy sound exits his mouth. It makes Ásgeirr smile with him — and it's a feeling they like. It's a far cry from the circumstances of their first meeting, but he likes this. More than he probably should.

“ I must confess, I don't know much of history. ” His tone turns sheepish, and all of a sudden, the humiliation of his past comes creeping in. “ Well, I know Dark Brotherhood history, some Skyrim history — but the opportunity to learn didn't really present itself. I was occupied with . . . other things. ” Killing, mostly. Ásgeirr clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. Does he dare mention that he can barely read? Save some Dovahzul. It comes easier than his mother tongue. “ Draconic history, though? I'm sure that must be fascinating. ”

the  dragon  shrugs  ,     a  fiendish  ,     cat-like  smile  appearing.           ❛❛  i  do  know  how  to  ,     you  know.  ❜❜           hands  fold  behind  his  back  as  well  ,     mimicking  asgeirr  and  adopting  a  more  open  posture  as  he  walks  along;     a  subtle  gesture  ,     but  an  intentional  one.     ASGEIRR IS ALLOWED TO SEE HIM BE LIGHTER.     asgeirr  has  earned  his  humor  ,     his  openness. 

asgeirr  is  surprised  by  his  idyllic  words  ,     and  demetrius  laughs  at  this———a  real  laugh  ,     deep  and  bright.           ❛❛  didn't  know  i  read  ?    what  do  you  suppose  i  do  all  day  ,     dovahkiin  ?     it  cannot  all  be  plotting  and  battle  ,     as  much  as  i  would  like  it  to  be.  ❜❜           he  meets  the  other's  gaze  ,     at  this  point  surprised  by  his  own  lightness.     perhaps  he's  been  away  from  home  for  too  long.     he's  beginning  to  shed  lord  sulvarin  ,     FAVORING DEMETRIUS INSTEAD.     his  father's  hair  would  go  whiter  than  it  has  already  begun  to  do.           ❛❛  my  favorite  thing  to  read  is  history.    draconic  history  ,     which  i'm  sure  isn't  surprising  ,     but  history  in  general  as  well.     there  is  much  to  be  learned  from  the  past  ,     don't  you  think  ?     even  with  all  my  reading  ,    it  took  me  far  too  long  to  really  understand  that.  ❜❜

[denouemente]

that man won’t stop staring at him. ásgeirr can feel his eyes bore into the back of his head — and typically, he can ignore it. the circumstances under which he joined the guard, along with the special tasks he was occasionally assigned usually warranted more attention than he wanted. he liked to spend time in the stables among the dragons, even if they were in their horse forms now. he even had his own foolish idea that one day, one might be entrusted to his care, but he knows it’s just that — foolish. the dragons were precious to the royal family, to perga. they wouldn’t dare give one to him.

he tries to ignore the feeling of someone looking at him, and continues brushing the coat of a beautiful dapple gray mare, but he finds he cannot. with a loud sigh, he turns around and looks at @sanctos staring back at him. he’s never seen this man before. he has a rather grave face, and he could even be handsome under the right conditions. “ yes? what is it? ” his tone is biting as he turns back to the horse, running his fingers over her back before he returns to brushing her. “ if you’re here to tell me to get out, the prince gave me permission to be here. ” he didn’t — but hopefully this man doesn’t try to call him on his bluff. “ besides, not like any of those lazy sods could be bothered to do this. ”

[denouemente]

the ride to the ruins of skuldafn was silent, mostly filled with odahviing chirping to him about alduin — what he believed, why he allied with him, why he left . . . ásgeirr felt like his head was spinning. he was terrified. how was he supposed to be the one to do this? to go where no living nord has ever dared to tread, to call back the world eater and destroy him before he can hurt anything or anyone else. the only thing keeping him sane was @sanctos, flying silently behind them. he knew demetrius couldn’t follow him into sovngarde — but knowing he would be there until the very end comforted him beyond measure.

once they’d been dropped off, with odahviing flying back into the sky and demetrius turned back into his human form, the carefully crafted mask ásgeirr wore shattered. his head was spinning, his hands were shaking . . . “ what if . . . what if the greybeards got it wrong? ” the dragonborn’s voice trembles, staring up at his companion with fists clenched. “ what if they got it wrong, but i wanted them to be right so badly that i convinced myself i was who they said i am? ” he crouches down, eyes wide as he stares at the ground. it does nothing to stop his tears from forming. “ i’m nobody. who am i to think i could do this? why would skyrim want me as her hero? a bastard. an assassin. my own family doesn’t love me. surely, the dragonborn should be more noble. i’m not that. i’ve never been that. maybe they got it wrong . . . ” he trails off, squeezing his eyes shut. “ why would i be the person destined to slay alduin? ” maybe the greybeards chose wrong. “ what if i can’t do it? ”

[denouemente]

they'd traveled together long enough now that ásgeirr thought he'd seen all sides of demetrius — the good, the bad, the sad . . . just as his companion had seen all of the dragonborn. the good, the bad, and the sad. he trusted the dragon above all else, and he hoped the other felt the same. he thought he must, considering the fact he no longer stalked off to do who knows what when ásgeirr fell asleep. instead, @sanctos remained in his tent, and the dragonborn came to know sides of demetrius he didn't know existed.

there's scales on his back — not covering it entirely, but lining his shoulders and his spine. it takes everything in him not to reach out and touch. he knows how he'd feel if someone touched him when he slept. his back is an ugly array of scars, received from his training in the dark brotherhood. he opted not to wear a shirt when he slept, but he always carefully angled his body away, hoping to hide them from a possibly - awake demetrius. the scales were the last thing he remembers looking at before sleep overtook him, and his dreams that night ( dreams, not nightmares ) were of the two of them flying through the sky, ásgeirr on his friend's back.

when he woke up, he didn't see the scales. in fact, he didn't see anything other than the tent entrance. momentarily, the former assassin starts to panic. he didn't expect this at all. he didn't expect him to up and leave like that — he almost shoots up, and then he feels a hand on his waist, and someone softly breathing into his hair. oh. he tries not to go rigid, trying to get used to . . . this. surely it was something done in the dead of the night, right? it was cold. probably. but part of him liked this, curled up against demetrius. he liked this softer part of him, even if he wasn't awake and consciously doing it. was it strange he wanted to see if he looked as peaceful as ásgeirr felt? it would be quick, he thought, slowly starting to turn and take in the sight he wanted to see — and demetrius looks just as peaceful as he thought. it was a sight that ásgeirr couldn't get enough of. how could he turn back around now?

[eueclid]

The Lord of Sulvara’s body hits the floor with a mighty thud, and the Dragonborn doesn’t know what to say. This was supposed to be an easy trip, one taken to try to rally his companion’s family to their cause. By some miracle, Demetrius took Ásgeirr’s side. It was dumb luck, really, running into Alduin the way they did. It was even dumber luck that Alduin not just acknowledged that Demetrius existed, but also that he completely disavowed any alliance they could have had. That was what lead him to bring the Dragonborn to his homeland — Ásgeirr had felt uneasy about it, but decided to proceed. More allies, especially ones that were dovah — could only be beneficial.

It went about as terribly as they imagined. They spoke with his father, Demetrius the first, and they’d barely said anything before the much older Lord Sulvarin turned to @sanctos and demanded to know why he’d brought this worm before him. Before his companion could even answer, there was a sword at Ásgeirr’s throat. The blade had pierced his skin, something he still wasn’t fully aware of.

The fight itself was terrible to witness — the fear in Demetrius’ eyes as his father continued to attack, the way he pleaded. He’d never seen him act or speak this way before, and it made his chest ache. And after a painstakingly long fight, Demetrius’ father was dead. Killed for Ásgeirr, who cannot look away. He’d killed plenty of people — but for some reason, this death hits him harder than any he’d brought on another. He walks over to his companion, resting his hand on his shoulder. “ Demetrius. ” He whispers, voice shakier than he’d anticipated. “ Are you — ” Are you okay? He wants to ask, but his throat seizes. Of course he isn’t. He can feel the eyes of his mother and siblings on him, and it makes him want to shrivel and die on the spot.

[eueclid]

dima is placing a kiss to the top of asgeirrs head

“ What was that for? ” The tone he uses isn��t accusatory in any way, rather curious. He doesn’t think he’s done anything to merit it today, but he won’t complain. He sets down his blade, one he was sharpening for the sake of maintaining its integrity rather than for future use on someone. Ásgeirr sets the blade down and stands, taking Demetrius’ hands with his. “ Wanna go for a walk later? It’s not as thrilling as flying, but it’s just so nice out. ” They reach up, taking his face with one of his hands. “ And now that we’re here, might as well do this properly. ” With that, he leans upward and kisses him with no sign of stopping.

[denouemente]

@sanctos: [ braid ] sender braids receiver's hair.

he never imagined a world where he'd have time to relax, that he could come and go somewhere as he pleased and to do so with the man he loved. they'd planned a day of flying ahead of them, just the two of them, soaring through the sky. ásgeirr already loved flying on dragonback, but the bond he felt after riding on demetrius' back for the first time was one he could never replace or replicate, not even with his dragon, fulkaalbo.

in preparation for the flying, ásgeirr sits between his lover's knees, staring forward while his skilled fingers run through his hair. before demetrius even starts, he looks up at him with a grin on his lips. sometimes, he just liked to look at him. lord sulvarin, the owner of his heart. “ i'm excited to get away with you today, dima. ” the nickname is said affectionately, and he purses his lips slightly, a silent plea for a kiss. once it's granted, he beams, looking forward again so his hair can finally be done. “ i was thinking, ” he starts, resisting the urge to turn around and look at demetrius. “ what if we fly over to that fallen tree we saw that one time? that one right over that waterfall. ” he can tell his braids are done, so he turns around to look at his partner, that wide smile returning to his face. “ last time we went, we couldn't stand each other, and i've been thinking about making out with you on that log basically since i went to sovngarde, so . . . ” he trails off, reaching to take one of demetrius' hands. “ oh! do you want your hair braided too? we can match. ” it's a tone of voice that would have never left him before they met, but now it's one that can be expected from the dragonborn when they're in each others' presence. “ here, stay there. ” ásgeirr stands up, moving to stand behind demetrius. he runs his fingers through his dark curls, then bends down to kiss the apple of his cheek. “ okay, i'll braid your hair, we can pack a lunch, then head out? ”

[denouemente]

after his legendary fight against alduin, the relationship between ásgeirr, the dragonborn, and demetrius, his companion, had completely changed. long gone were the days of wondering what went through his head, of wondering why his heart fluttered whenever the other man looked at him and wondering what it might be like to just kiss him. they shared a tent now, shared a bed. though he wasn’t laying down now, ásgeirr was happily situated in demetrius’ lap, one leg on either side of him with their chests pressed together and he pressed kisses to his cheek, his lips, and his neck.

you don't know what you do to me. ásgeirr pulls back after @sanctos speaks, his hand moving to cup his face. it makes him grin, thumb running over his cheek as he thinks about what he wants to say. part of him is afraid that he’ll scare him off — but if he stayed while alduin himself tried to kill them, he doesn’t think there’s much he could do to scare him now. “ and you, me. ” he sits up, hands resting against demetrius’ chest. “ everyone i’ve ever been with before, it’s been for a job. but you . . . ” he leans down, leaving a trail of kisses on his collar bone. “ i’ve never wanted to be with anyone like i want to be with you. ” ásgeirr says rather frankly, laying back down but keeping his head up so he can stare back at those strong dark eyes he so loves. if anyone had to be the first person he chose, he’s happy it’s demetrius sulvarin. “ do you want to? if you want to wait, that’s okay too. by akatosh. just tell me to shut up. ” he laughs, letting his head rest momentarily against his chest. “ for what it’s worth, i really want to. ”

[denouemente]

he'd grown used to the life he shared with demetrius now. there were often times he felt he didn't deserve it, that his past as an assassin meant he wasn't worthy of a place like this. of a person like dima, or of his siblings who'd accepted him despite what his presence in their family had caused. the first demetrius sulvarin was dead. dead because dima decided to protect ásgeirr rather than let alduin's ideals surface even more. that was what he'd dreamed about that night. @sanctos was there too, just as he was that very day. but as the sword was raised to smite him, he didn't stand in to stop it from happening. a hateful look in his eye was what he saw as the blade smote him, and then he woke up with a gasp.

it was dark, but he instantly felt a much larger frame encircling his body, something that already worked to lower his pounding pulse. he thinks he woke demetrius up — his deep breathing has quickened again, and ásgeirr scolds himself as he reaches one hand behind him, resting against the other's hip. “ sorry. ” he mumbles, shifting slightly so he can feel dima's bare chest against his bare back. he knows better than this — he knows it, too. but perhaps it's that dream messing with him, perhaps it's his past coming back to bite him. i'm here with you. i'm protecting you. his voice is low in his ear, and he rolls over so he can look at him. “ i know. ” he murmurs, resting his nose against his cheek. “ thank you. ” ásgeirr leaves a kiss against his hairline before settling in this new spot, humming softly albeit contently. “ sorry for waking you up. i haven't had a nightmare since . . . ” since before he fought alduin. demetrius was there too, there to comfort him, though not in this capacity. “ thank you for being here, dima. ”

[denouemente]

they'd stopped in a tavern, just to get some food before they camp out for the night, and then that stopped turned into ásgeirr getting a pint of ale, which turned into the two of them sitting at one of the tables, taking in the ambience of the tiny tavern in the middle of nowhere. but even here he could tell people were whispering about him, eyes flickering over to the dragonborn and his company while their lips move. it's him, isn't it? he swears he hears one of them say, which makes him form a sort of half - grimace on his face before he takes a drink. “ do they think i can't hear them? ” he mumbles, face in his mug, lavender eyes staring over the rim at demetrius, his most trusted companion. “ for all they know, me and the dragonborn just have an unfortunate resemblance. ” he takes a drink, his partner's face obscured from view for just a moment. in that time, he left, though, and ásgeirr looks around the tavern, trying to find him. shouldn't be that hard, not with how huge he was.

he sees @sanctos across the tavern, talking to the bard. odd. he raises an eyebrow, watching him with a slightly cocked head as he makes his way back over. he almost looks smug. “ what was that about? ” he asks, watching demetrius settle back in his seat. it's time to remember who you are. ásgeirr opens his mouth to ask what that could possibly mean, but he's distracted by the strum of a lute, and the singing of the bard. our hero, our hero claims a warrior's heart! i tell you, i tell you, the dragonborn comes. ásgeirr sets his mug down, watching his companion as he feels most, if not all of the eyes in the tavern turn towards him. he knew he was the dragonborn — he'd defeated alduin, absorbed his soul, spoke with dragons as though they were fellow nords, and yet, it feels odd. he dislikes it. all the things he did before accepting the greybeard's call should surely disqualify him from this deification, right? “ you didn't want to pick one where you're featured, dima? ” ásgeirr asks after taking another drink, trying to drown out the sound of the song that fills the warm air. “ once the song is done, let's go find a good spot to camp. we should still do it while there's some light. ”

[denouemente]

he was still trying to get used to the fact that one of his closest friends was once someone who would have left him for dead were he provided the opportunity to — and that said friend took what ásgeirr could do times seven. all the talents of a dovah, INCLUDING THE BODY OF ONE, but with the ability to turn into a human. part of him was intensely jealous. the other part was grateful to have him in his life. he was the perfect tutor, even more than the GREYBEARDS ever did. his hair and face and neck haven't caught on fire since he started traveling with dima.

“ i've finally done it. ” his tone is not unlike that of an excited child, eager to share with him what he'd done in the mountains. “ i lit a torch from meters away. as much as i hate to say it, that thing you said about breathing beforehand worked. ” ásgeirr puts his hands on his hips, grinning widely at demetrius as he stares upwards. i did it. he thinks again, opening his mouth to speak again, but he's interrupted by dima's hand moving towards his face. he flinches at first, but merely out of habit — HE TRUSTS HIM COMPLETELY. “ wha - ” he starts, but stares at the black residue on the other man's fingertips. oh. he feels his cheeks start to heat up, his hand aggressively rubbing at the spot demetrius had previously touched. “ i'm . . . not sure how that got there. ” he laughs awkwardly, staring at what he can only assume is soot on his own fingertips now. “ one of the risks of the job, i guess. ”

@sanctos, from demetrius : SWIPE - SENDER NOTICES A SMUDGE OF SOMETHING ON RECEIVER'S FACE AND GENTLY WIPES IT OFF.

[eueclid]

For the first time in his life, he finally feels some comfort around how things ended with his mother. Demetrius is right, it isn’t fair. It is despicable. But for the first time in his life, he’s found someone and something that doesn’t feel transactional. Sure, Astrid took him in, but in return she expected him to dedicate his life, soul, and body to her organization. Demetrius entered his life, as he said, blade drawn and pointed at him, but they’ve come a long way since then. Maybe it was foolish to think so — but a part of Ásgeirr thought there could be something more to them than friendship. Why else would his cheeks get hot and why else would he feel like this after being so close to him and why else would he share this?

“ Well, to your credit and theirs, you haven’t pointed your blade at me in a long time. ” In fact, he’d raised it to defend them from someone who wanted them dead. It had been just Ásgeirr for so long before this, to have someone who stayed because they wanted to felt so foreign but it was a feeling he never wanted to leave. The Dragonborn turns back to look at Demetrius, a soft smile and a light pink hue settling on his cheeks.

They never wanted to leave his side again — a somewhat shocking mental revelation that somehow doesn’t manifest on their face. Instead, Ásgeirr leans into the feeling of being here. What a feeling it was. “ Thank you. For bringing me here, and staying. Not just up here with me today but . . . for staying through all of it. ”

first  ,     demetrius'  brows  furrow  with  anger.     face  twisted  with  contempt  at  the  thought  of  this  woman  ,     wishing  now  that  they'd  done  more  than  simply  walk  away  from  her  ,     enraged.     perhaps  that  was  humiliating  enough  for  her———perhaps  people  were  watching  ,     prying  eyes  that  snickered  as  they  turned  away  from  her  ,     left  her  to  her  begging.     HE HOPES SO.    its  less  than  she  deserves  ,     but  better  than  nothing.    better  than  walking  away  with  her  nose  in  the  air  ,  thinking  she  won  some  sort  of  verbal  battle. 

❛❛  she  did  not  deserve  to  ever  be  a  mother.    to  not  even  let  you  speak  to  your  own  siblings   .  .  .  ❜❜          sharp  teeth  bite  at  the  inside  of  his  cheek  ,     head  shaking.     they're  hesitant  to  speak  to  him  now  ,     but  demetrius  cannot  imagine  a  life  without  his  own  siblings.     being  himself  the  oldest  as  well  ,     he  would  kill  and  die  for  them  ,     go  to  the  ends  of  the  earth  to  keep  them  safe———to  be  isolated  from  them  ,   �� WATCH THEM GROW WITHOUT HIM  ,     it  would  have  tore  him  apart.           ❛❛  despicable.     she  is  despicable.    not  even  worthy  of  the  honor  of  claiming  you  as  her  child.  ❜❜          even  now  ,     in  going  against  his  own  beliefs,     it  is  in  some  small  way  for  them.     if  the  world  ends  ,     so  do  they.     that  asgeirr  was  robbed  of  this  connection  when  it  was  there  at  his  fingertips  make  the  dragon  nearly  sick.

then  he  softens  ,     more  than  he  even  realizes.     a  gentle  breath  expelled  as  asgeirr  looks  away———he's  never  felt  like  this  before.     he  takes  a  moment  to  ruminate  on  asgeirr's  words  ,     thinks  to  their  hostile  start  ,     how  far  they've  come  from  it.     HIS CHEEKS FEEL WARM.           ❛❛  that's   .  .  .   if  i'm  the  consolation  prize  ,     then  your  gods  must  have  a  strange  way  of  things.     an  apology  that  came  at  you  first  with  his  sword  drawn  is  not  necessarily  a  great  one.  ❜❜

[eueclid]

It's easier to pretend like it isn't the end. To pretend that this day is like any other, that they will go to bed tonight and wake up together tomorrow. It was the end, and they both knew it, but both Ásgeirr and Demetrius act like it is not.

He grins as the other speaks, trying to mask the dread that lays beneath the surface. He even dares to lower his hand and run his thumb over the smooth skin on Demetrius' cheek. Death had a way of giving him courage, it seemed. “ You were strong, of course, but we weren't in any bandit camp. ” He hesitates, knowing the topic is rather delicate. “ We were in Sulvara, actually. ” He presses his lips together, and has to fight the urge to kiss him.

“ We were happy. ” We were together. In his dream, they woke up together every day. In his dream, they kissed. They held hands. They were normal and happy. These circumstances they were forced into weren't fair. Why did he have to be the dragonborn? Why did he have to meet Demetrius under such horrid conditions? “ Did you dream? Was I dashing? ” He asks, trying to distract from the blush that creeps from his cheeks to his neck.

draconic  eyes  close  as  fingers  brush  through  his  hair  ,     demetrius  leaning  into  the  feeling  ,    trilling  soft  and  quiet  like  a  purr.     he  cannot  shake  the  feeling  that  he  may  never  be  this  close  to  asgeirr  again.     with  his  eyes  closed  ,     his  heart  hammers  against  his  chest  ,     imagining  what  it  will  feel  like  to  open  them  on  an  empty  space  where  asgeirr  is  meant  to  be.     the  trilling  catches  in  his  throat———it  almost  sounds  like  crying.     he  clears  his  throat  ,     bites  it  back. 

❛❛  good  morning.  ❜❜           the  words  taste  sour———there  is  nothing  good  about  this  morning.     a  final  morning:     THE DAWN BEFORE THEIR PARTING.     demetrius  opens  his  eyes  again  ,     thoughts  flooded  with  all  the  things  he  should  have  said  to  the  dragonborn  ,     regret  for  how  long  it  took  him  to  care.    they  could  have  been  friends  long  before  he  ever  let  them.     they  could  have  had  more  time.

he  shifts  closer  ,     almost  as  though  he  wants  to  rest  his  head  on  asgeirr's  shoulder  ,     hide  away  against  him.    but  he  has  never  let  himself  be  so  small  ,     so  vulnerable———he  is  unaware  of  his  own  yearning  ,     unaware  of  what  to  do  with  it.     so  he  stares  ,     instead  ,     eyes  clouded  with  a  terrible  sadness.           ❛❛  tell  me  of  your  dream.     was  i  strong  and  foreboding  ,     rescuing  you  from  a  camp  of  bandits  ?  ❜❜