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Better make use of that still air while he still had it. It was a long way up north.
He’d checked and double checked his supply bags, tucked away a few heat emitting crystals to stow into his boots when things got particularly icy, and touched up every protective enchantment he could think of- paying special attention to the wards he knew would be paramount to surviving any journey where the wildlife could take a snap at your toes just as easily biting cold could. He was about as ready as he could be, and that meant meeting up with whatever brave or deranged soul had decided to answer the desperate cry for help with him.
He hasn’t had a travel companion in far too long and, well… it started to weather on the soul, taking too many adventures solo. He’d be glad of the company.
He found his fellow adventurer just up at the main border between village, mountain and trees, recognising the scale and shine of a fellow dragon rider. Good- they should be able to keep up with Aithusa (and he couldn’t deny an overwhelming fondness for the big, winged beauties).
“You’re here for lending aid to the north?” He confirmed. They stiffened like they’d just been hit with the winter chill already. “It’s going to be a hard flight,” he admired “not many would brave the winds. I look forwards to flying with you.”
“Wow, who’s butt do you think you’re kissing up to?”
This time it was his turn to turn stiff as a manticore’s quills. There was no way. There was actually no way.
“Where was this energy when you actually worked for me?” The face he’d rather forget turned towards him, smug smirk ripe for smacking right off his stupid face.
“You’ve got to kidding me.” He bristled. Of course, his remark did nothing to dim the other’s smarmy delight.
Arthur.
Freaking altruistic prick. Of course he was going to throw himself into some stupid heroics in far away lands, like the noble ass he was, exactly where he just so happened to be heading. It had been ten years already, why couldn’t his luck have held out just a little longer- say… forever? He’d be perfectly happy to never see that two-faced idiot prat ever again.
“No, I’m serious, you were supposed to shower me with this little thing called respect.” They taunted, like it was some sort of joke he expected them both to be in on- fiddling with his rich, daddy-paid-for armour.
Nope- that’s it. He was not doing this. Not with Mr do-no-wrong, sun-shines-out-my-own-ass, you-should-be-lucky-to-try-and-kiss-up-to-me golden boy. He was done working for the ungrateful prick. If he thought he was just gonna come laughing and joking back like nothing had ever happened, he had another thing coming.
He turned right on his heel and strode away without a single back glance. Forget this.
“Fuck you.” He growled- he was the one turning his back this time.
“Oh no- go ahead! I’m sure you’d do fine. Travelling north without someone to watch your back…” They called after him.
He froze, furious. He was right. Goddammit, he was right.
He couldn’t do it alone- that was the main reason for meeting up with someone here in the first place. There were actual laws preventing people travelling up north without a partner- and for good reason… and, much as it pained him to admit it, he’d seen the dung-head fight, and hadn’t met a single soul since he thought could be his equal- even in his work of enchanted sword for hire.
He supposed he should be grateful he wasn’t travelling with a complete stranger in some ways- he was unlikely to kill him in his sleep, and he was about… 80% sure he wasn’t going to stab him in the back.
Physically.
… He hadn’t yet at least.
He turned to level him with as vicious a glare as he could muster- fully aware of all the spat loyalty and bitter fury that blazed between them, in the smouldering flames of their once amicable history.
He whistled for Aithusa, mounting her in a single fluid motion- rolling by his side like white river.
“Keep up- and shut up!” He demanded. Watching from the air as a bright, crimson dragon exited the trees and bowed to his rider- hit with a sudden pang. He did miss Penn. The majestic beauty was a brilliant, noble soul- far better than prince prat deserved. The pang went deeper than just the dragon, but he shook himself back to open air ahead, throwing himself back into his fury- ignoring Aithusa’s knowing glance back as he did.
He refused to acknowledge dragon/rider duo as they came to glide beside them- and, for a time, there was a blissful, pained, strained silence. Overlooking the way one party clutched at his saddle, almost white-knuckled beneath his gloves, it could’ve almost been pleasant. Instead, there was a feeling like a string being drawn tighter and tighter- the white dragon’s partner daring the other to make a single, stupid comment.
“Come on, we’re not gonna be flying in silence this whole time are we?” They spoke up predictably.
“Oh?! I’m surprised you even want a filthy sorcerer to speak to you!” He snapped back, surprised (but not surprised) by the sudden vitriol that overtook him.
After so many years trying not to think about the guy, it all came swelling back. He’d thought of him as his best and closest friend- thick as thieves, no matter how insubordinate and pig-headed they’d been. He’d cared about that stupid prick, far more than he’d ever admit, and then he-!..
The outburst stunned the other rider into silence, the air between them freezing over faster than if they were mere minutes from their blizzard-blown destination- and not still too many insufferable hours away.
“… I want a break.”
Oh for all that was good and scaled- he was still a rich, spoiled arsehole!
“Are you actually for real?” He yelled, the other still somehow having the gall to act like he was in the right.
“I can’t do sixteen hours straight! Think of saddle sores!” They whined. They weren’t even an hour in, he bit back from yelling.
“Fine!” He was not arguing with him on this. He was not giving him the satisfaction… it was too close to the bickering they used to adore- back when affection hadn’t yet turned to bitterness.
He took to his feet, from the dragon, as they landed, Aithusa barely even working up a sweat. Waiting for the other to relief themselves, or touch up their reflection, or whatever they heck they wanted to do during this break. His gaze kept to the safety of the trees, as his balled up hand sought the comfort and warmth of his dragon’s scales.
He wasn’t expecting a quiet, awkward voice to poke at the silence, but it hit him like a pin prick to an exploding dam.
“So…”
“Stop! Just… stop. You don’t have to pretend to like this anymore than I do. Let’s just get this over with so we can go back to our lives, and you don’t have to keep pretending like you can actually stand the sight of me.” He raged- mortified to hear his pain outweighing his anger.
He choked his mouth shut- held back tears at sword point. He’d said way too much.
“Merlin…”
He hadn’t said enough.
“I know sorcerers are all ‘heathenous villains bent on ruining the world’, but some of us were just born this way, and would like to get on with our lives! Maybe even do some good deeds, like- oh, I don’t know- saving your goddamn life!”
And there it was- the crux of the issue. All the dedication- all the devotion he had. To throw his life on the line for the other, and then expect to be grateful when he was outcast instead of murdered, for saving his life with sorcery over a sword. To be cut out of his life, just like that, for finally revealing the true and unbeaten heart of himself... It hurt almost as much as leaving.
He couldn’t stand this. Why did they have to meet up with each other again? It was easier before all this. He was supposed to hate the bastard, and yet…
“Merlin.”
He was snapped from his agonising tirade by a whisper of the past. His name spoken with just as much reluctant affection and frustrated fondness as though he’d reached through the passage of time to bring it back.
He finally looked at his beloved, hated idiot- staring at him with exasperation, fondness, despair, guilt… He almost didn’t know how to recognise any of those emotions anymore. It had been so long… and he certainly didn’t know what to make of them.
He just stared, left stranded in the eye of his emotional storm… as the other drew up a small fist towards his chest. It wasn’t the gesture that caught his eyes… but the vibrant flames surrounding it.
Conjured, harmless, in his grasp- and cast with long familiar carelessness onto the tinders of a sudden campfire. The dancing light chasing away shadows- flickering impossibly in the space between them.
A spell from the magic hating prince.
“But.. how?” He whispered, the words rasped with longing, hurt and disbelief.
“Well… It’s a long story.” The knight began evasively, crossing his arms as he shuffled his feet. Suddenly insecure, like he hadn’t just blown the rift between them wide open, in dire need of exploration.
Well… it wouldn’t be the first time he’d closed a giant rift, he supposed, magic itching under his fingertips. Perhaps it wasn’t entirely impossible to mend one even so large as this.
The silence, no longer fragile, glittered with caution, potential and magical fire. He glanced up at the sky, and to where the compass pointed north… they did have fifteen hours ahead of them.
“We have time.” He offered.