Chapter 76: What you really want

Nathaniel: 

Why didn't Givontair let Ajax die? It could have been simple for him. Can't he see that the black dragon will be a threat to him, no matter how he claims he has changed his mind? And what about all those killed by him? Where is their justice? 

"Nate, wait up," I quicken my pace. I know that Givontair is tired. Yet, he does catch up to me, and takes a hold of my arm. He turns me towards himself. I have never seen him this determined. His eyes are practically shining. "Nate, we need to talk." 

"What for? Ajax is getting scot-free, and you even made sure that he will live to kill some more!" I hiss at him. He blinks at me, and then brings me closer. When he rests his forehead on mine, I feel as if I relax. Is this the power a soulmate has on their partner? 

"He will face justice. I have the full intention to drag him to Pope Basil," Givontair's words surprise me. Did he really mean it, when he said, that he, too, will turn himself in? I don't want for him to be executed. 

"If you turn him in, you will have to admit to your own guilt," I remind him. He smiles then. A smile which looks like that of someone who had made peace with their fate. "Giv, you can't face the judgement of the Pope. He'll kill you." 

"Why are you so sure of that?" Giv asks me. I close my eyes, trying to take in his scent. For all I know, soon, he will be just a head on a pike. "Nate, I am a healer. Yet, I am also a dragon. The most I have to look forward to, is community service. The Pope doesn't want another war with the dragons. Ajax, on the other hand..."

"Why heal him, if you know he'll end up executed?" I ask the albino dragon. 

"When I saw him suffering from the extraction, I remembered all the times he came to check up on me in a different form than his own. I remembered how a younger me knew that the man who smelt of cinnamon had the best stories, the best toys. He was a good listener, and always gave me sound advice. I guess, the only thing I didn't like about this arrangement, was the fact that he never came as himself." 

"I can't forgive what he did to me," I say. Givontair nuzzles our noses together. He gives out something like a humming sound, and then closes his eyes. 

"I don't expect you to," he tells me, as I luxuriate in our closeness. "But think: if Ajax helps with the destruction of the Black Book of the Dread, people will be liberated from prophecies. Erik can grow up, without hearing the whispers of the Elder Dryad. I will be able to live without an inner dragon." 

"And my parents will still be restless," I tell him. There is too much bitterness in me, to let this go. 

"As long as you are not drowning in hate, I think they'd be happy. If you'd like, Sorix can bring them back in spirit form, and..." I suck in a breath. Givontair stops talking. "You don't want to see them again?" 

"What can they see? A necromancer?" I ask him. Shame grips me then. My family were simple farmers. They went to the temple of Harika every Sunday. What will they say, if they see me now?

"I think they will understand," Givontair says. "Besides, you should stop with the necromancy. Just look at what it did to Sorix."

 At the mention of the Dread Lord, my eyes narrow. The man was the one Givontair asked for help, when he was nearing death's door. Not me. I feel useless. Just why do I try so hard, when my soulmate won't even ask me to come to his side, when he is in need? 

"If you had to choose, between Sorix and me, who'd you choose?" I ask the dragon. 

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"I think we agreed that Sorix will be the third member of this relationship," he says, confused. 

"We didn't agree. You decided it, and then didn't let me argue," I say. I try to put some distance between Givontair and I, but he doesn't let me.

"Sorix saved my life," he insists. I sigh. 

"Something I have never done. Even during the battle at Trelia, I wasn't much help," I say, bitterness leaking through my voice. 

"If you don't stop beating yourself up, I will do something you'll regret," Givontair's eyes are piercing into my soul. I wonder, what is this thing, with which he is threatening me?

"And what would that be?" I ask him. I can see, that our breaths are mingling with each other. A slight peppermint scent comes from his mouth. I can stay like this until the rest of my life. 

"I will give you a reality check," he says, and I snort. "You don't believe me, that you won't like it?" 

"I think I do need it, so, shoot," I tell him. He takes in a deep breath, and speaks. 

"You are a wonderful man, held back by regrets. Ones born from circumstances, in which you held little to no sway," I blink at that. He places a hand over my heart. "It will be a shame, if you can't forgive yourself, Nate. We can't be strong all the time. You have stood alone for too long. Let me in, and let me carry some of your burdens." 

"If I do that, won't you tire of me?" I ask him. His answer is a kiss. A slow and tender one, where he doesn't so much as ask for entrance to my mouth.

It is almost like he wants to worship my lips. I am the one who begs for entrance. He tastes like peppermint candy. I wrap my arms around him, and hold him tightly. When the kiss is over, we stare in each other's eyes. 

"Don't let the shadow of hatred cloud your mind," he says, as he stares into my eyes. "It is for the best, if Ajax is before a court, rather than in the mud, with lifeless eyes staring at the sky." 

I want to ask him, if he is saying that, because it concerns his father. Yet, I feel as if that would be unfair of me. Of course, Givontair cares about Ajax. Still, he also cares about me.

 He has lived for so many more years than me. I wonder, if this type of lessons he is imparting on me, weren't given to him by someone else. Someone who he has lost. 

 

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