a broken crown: grounded and humble - 1014 words

#2 Terra Borealis

Show your character in a terra borealis. Your piece must include your character and an aurora borealis-like phenomenon based on the ground.

 

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"I could've killed you."

 

The crystal dust floating down like snow seemed to almost freeze in mid-air. It was like the thick, guilt- and grief-ridden silence held it up. Frozen in time. Keeping the moment going for an eternity. Caspian felt the dragon's ribcage swell as he inhaled. It came out as a heavy exhale, shimmering with particles, that the shifter presumed to be tiny ice crystals.

 

"But you did not," Nathaniel spoke with a low voice, calm like a tranquil lake.

 

Looking at this scale-skinned, pale man now, Caspian barely recognized him. It had nothing to do with the slight change of hairstyle, the notches on his ear, his clothes, or the painfully obviously missing horns and their new, golden caps.

 

It had everything to do with his demeanor. The way he acted. Spoke. Even moved. Nathaniel used to be fast as lightning to tick off. Snappy like a rooster in a fighting ring. Most of his gold he had to sink to magic potions and miracle cures to erase the marks all of that blade-edged sparring always left behind. He could barely hold his tongue, in both good and bad - but mostly bad.

 

Now nothing seemed to faze him. Caspian was afraid that it was depression of some kind. A pit full of pitch-black, suffocating smoke that weighted more than a blue whale - but the way Nathaniel spoke of things sounded more like a mountain, than a trench. He didn't search for scapegoats. The weight of the world had the permission to roll forward at its own pace. That pair of horns especially had been extremely important to him, but it felt unreasonable, that losing them could've changed him so much. That it could've made him nearly unrecognizable. Like a completely different person in the skin of the frost-hided dragon Caspian once thought he knew.

 

But, well - he still went bright blue in the face when the topic of conversation drifted to anything that descended below the waistline. At least that had stayed. It was a relief. Caspian thought that it was quite adorable.

 

Despite all of that, the silver drake's touch was as familiar as ever. The eternal could feel it in his chest. A pressure inside his ribcage, that made him feel like it could split his body from the slightest nudge. A hand in his. Arms around him that weren't freezing cold, made of solid metal. It tore Caspian from the inside to think how much he had missed it. Needed it.

 

The Athos' breathing trembled. "It could happen again." He tightened his grip around himself. His blue-and-red claws started to dig into his skin.

 

Realizing the other's distress, the dragon's half-drooping ears twitched. Nathaniel repositioned his hands from Caspian's waist, and shifted them over to his clenched hands to pull him back to the surface. "Caspian."

 

For a moment, the eternal froze. He relaxed his fingers, but Nathaniel didn't move his hands back down. It was like he was making sure.

 

"I would not be here if I was afraid of you."

 

The shifter turned to look away, straight opposite to the shoulder where the dragon rested his head. Something twisted itself in Caspian's stomach. Overtuned the strings around his heart with a rusted wrench. How wrong it felt to hear his name from those lips. To hear it like this.

 

Under the swiftly darkening sky, lights began to dance across the powdery ground. Colors flickered in and out of existence like disjointed candle flames. They raced over the fine white powder, making it glimmer in a rainbow after another, like the crystals that had wept it so long ago. The lights ran around like children, erratically, as if they were alive. They circled the spindly legs of a few young Volai, only recently weaned from their dams. The creatures grazed on the lowest branches of the pine-like trees that created a forest right behind them.

 

Normally, Caspian would've loved the sight. It would've spread a smile across his face and kept it there for a ridiculously long time.

 

Even Nathaniel noticed that it didn't. The eternal's body language didn't shift and inch from the contrition its tension held as its hostage, like a malnourished stray defended lousy scraps with everything it had.

 

But it wasn't just remorse. Caspian turned his head again, back to the dragon. A soaked brush painted over the motion with its sheepish bristles. "Can I ask you something?"

 

The bipedal serpent smiled, delighted that the ruinous stillness hadn't swallowed the Athos. Nathaniel shifted his hands back to Caspian's waist. "Of course." He gently squeezed the man in his arms, attempting to offer reassurance. Of course the beautiful beanpole of neon and glitter could ask - quite frankly, he could've asked anything.

 

Caspian had to clasp his teeth together to prevent his jaw from trembling. He felt like it would've not been a lot, but any amount was too much. He didn't want to ask the thing he longed for. It was embarrassing. It was stupid. He didn't want to admit that desire. The craving.

 

"I was just thinking, if... that..." Not a single complete sentence left his tongue. It felt stiff like an icicle. Caspian let out an awkward sigh, half-chuckled. He huffed, then scoffed softly, trying to get himself together.

 

"You know, no one... no one calls me.... that anymore, and I-- I guess I took it for granted. So, uh..." The Athos paused. He swallowed, an uncomfortable pressure quickly starting to build a nest in his throat. "If you-- if you could..."

 

"Of course, my Goddess."

 

The dragon's reply felt like a concrete weight that split in two, and crumbled off of Caspian's chest in an instant. He had to fight tooth and nail to keep the tears in his eyes from pouring down his cheeks - but in all honestly, he didn't know if it was even worth it. If it was necessary. It was a secret to no one that he was a goddamn crybaby. Caspian gingerly collected Nathaniel's hands to his own. His voice neared a cautious whisper:

 

"...thank you."