Though I will never admit this aloud, there are times in while I find Dantalion to be wholly terrifying. His strength is endless and his will is just as fortified as my own. His power is great and his vigor is only out done by his shear brutality. He is a force to be reckoned with and I as his wielder stand totally helpless in the wake of his intensity. Yet my fear of him does not stem from the violence of his nature, but in the gentleness of it. Dantalion is an animal in the shape of a man, primal and blood thirsty, but when he looks at me there is unending kindness in his vibrant eyes. The animal becomes tamed and follows its master blindly – whether it be out of love or adoration I do not know, nor shall I pretend to guess.
He frightens me with his sincerity, makes my body tremble and sends shivers down my spine with the gentleness of his touch. When his skin touches mine I feel myself go weak and it is this weakness I feel that angers me so. I yell at him order him away, but I don't do it out of hate. It is better for the both of us – his past has no place in my future. I have greatness ahead of me, even if it is only a foolish dream I chase. It is all I have and I will achieve it no matter the cost. In the end, Dantalion would only be hurt – strange how I find myself thinking more of his feelings these days than my own.
I grow weary day after day of dealing with him. It is as if he steals my very essence while in my presence, saps my strength and leaves me vulnerable. If only I could make him understand; it is not that I have refused to accept myself as Solomon, not completely. It is that I do not want to be Solomon. Nothing will be gained from reliving memories of the past. Nothing but a damned future awaits because of that man. And Dantalion will be caught up into it. His affections for me are a product of his desire for a dead man who's life he took with his own hands. I refuse to quell his troubled heart by becoming a replacement. I convince myself of this daily.
But then he comes to me again and lays his hands upon my cheeks. He rescues me from unforeseen danger and holds me as if I'm a precious relic. He protects me with every fiber of his being in ways I have only begun to comprehend.
I am losing this battle with myself, slow but steadily. I feel my mind wavering at the mention of him, and for the life of me now I cannot recall why I ever considered hating him. Ever since that day I met my own soul face to face I have seen things I had only viewed in my minds eye. Things that I had never done, places I have never seen all come to me in lucid dreams that seem so real to me that I can still taste the arid sweetness of the desert winds on my tongue upon waking. The dreams are so much clearer now, more vivid, as if I am reliving them as myself and not him. I hear that song in my head, his song, played with such sweet care on a flute lovingly crafted of bone and I begin to tremble in spite of myself.
Dantalion, please – if you do nothing else for me, I ask of you only this; don't make me fall in love with you.