Love, Arisen

Spoiler material here; please read at your own risk!

Deuce watched as the dragon faded into soft granules of dust and sighed despondently. Was such a trial worth mortality? She wondered. She stood as the remains of the dragon swept into the wind and hit her hot face and sweat-matted hair. Deuce had no idea what life would await her. What indeed, especially for him? She glanced over to her pawn, Cloak, and their eyes met. A jolt of heat slid over her body. He acknowledged her with a nod and she blushed, breaking the gaze and feeling foolish. He's been here for this entire journey, and what has he gotten out of it?

He had become an integral part of her world, despite entering it so swiftly. Much time had passed since they first met, and yet she remembered it so clearly: He had knelt before her in that slight encampment with his right arm poised and palm glowing, vowing to stand by her ad eternum. The legends of his kin, thought to be folk-tales from her childhood were a reality and she felt responsible for such a contract, responsible for his life as much as he felt for hers.

The romanticism is all too conspicuous, really, she mused. But what was once a pawn in her eyes now was instead a longstanding companion, and the closest friend other than Quina she had ever known. Who cares if it was initially for protection, she considered that partnerships had started on more tenuous ground than theirs before. His constancy, though initially frustrating, now endeared him to her heart fully.

Perhaps it was because he was not the tedious serf she had presumed him to be, and all others expected his kind to be. She didn't fail to hear the whispers from people in the streets as she walked by. Pawns' worth carried little importance to the townsfolk and many claimed they weren't capable of the emotion of an animal. Contemptible distortions of truth, she had learned. Though Cloak was not able to engrave his own trail, Deuce saw the veiled aspirations in his eyes when they had peered at the unending sea from silent beaches, or heard the exhilaration in his low, soft voice after they ran through the thick of lush forests at nightfall.

He had the desire to live, just not the ability to do it of his own volition. He did not know birth or death as humans could but she felt it did not make him unworthy as a sentient being. For her part, she saw warmth in his eyes when he looked to her. It made her feel guilty, wanting him to have a life beyond her will, not knowing how to give that to him. Now she had time to examine what was to become of his life? Again he met her gaze and the shrugged at her, the gentle action belied his ferocity in battle, but he was always tender when attending to her. She could recall many a time when he carried her beaten body away from the spoils of war, or he cried out to her in distress seeing her injured by enemies.

"Are you ready to leave, master?" he inquired, breaking her reverie. The term master never boded well with her but she allowed it because he refused to call her by name most of the time. "Are you ready to leave?" she repeated his query. "I will ill miss this place when we away, that is certain." he replied. Always averting the issue of what he wants, we must work on that, she smiled at the thought. "Let's be off then," her voice soft in the wind, "this place is a grave."

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