Dias: The Morning After

By, Miotis Kain

When was it that I first saw him? Ah, yes. The tournament in Lacour, standing next to Claude.

Tria, he was beautiful! His eyes were mesmerizing – a shade of pure emerald, whose color was enhanced by the rich brown of his hair. His skin looked so soft and smooth, as if it were demanding to be touched. His body was long and slender, muscular but not bulky; instead it was lean and wiry. He radiated an air of innocence, as though he were untested in the ways of the world; but the total confidence with which he held himself told me that he was an experienced warrior.

Did he even know how perfect he was?

That's when I noticed them, the two dragons attached to his back. Strangely, I found myself jealous of them. What was it like being able to be so close to him all the time?

From the way everyone else regarded him, I guessed that the dragons were all they took heed of. Truthfully, I don't understand why it took me so long to become aware of their presence. They were a rather prominent feature. And yet I found I couldn't focus on them; my eyes were always drawn back to the man they were joined with.

As I exchanged glances with Claude – silently wishing him luck, while daring him to meet me in the arena – I did my best not to look. I didn't want the man to see me watching him; I was terrified that he'd take it for the wrong reason. Hell, I didn't even know the reason I was fixated with him.

I remember watching him fight. His movements were so smooth and graceful it was almost like watching a dance. Hypnotic. His two short swords flashed in the sunlight. The dragons curled to either side of his head, casting menacing glares at his opponent – an oversized, overly stupid creature that somehow classified as human.

And then something changed. He wasn't the same. The innocence left his eyes, replaced by something cold and impulsive. I was horrified. What had happened? Where had he gone, that man whose face held such sweet sincerity? Who was this stranger standing in his place?

Whoever he was, the newcomer was far more arrogant and obviously considered the competition to be a waste of his time. The moment he began to cast a spell, I knew things had gotten out of control. The air grew cold, and I lost sight of him as the arena disappeared behind a curtain of swirling white. When it was gone, both fighters had been thrown from the ring – an instant disqualification.

I was disappointed. I had hoped to get my chance to face him. I had wanted to be closer to him, if only for a little while. But that opportunity had been taken away, leaving me feeling surprisingly empty.

It was strange. I'd never been interested in romance before. Certainly, I'd found plenty of people attractive – always women – but it'd never been more than idle observation. So, given my reaction, seeing him that first time was like having ice-cold water thrown in my face; not only did I find myself captivated by a man, but I'd discovered that one look was all I needed to fall in love.

And I didn't even know his name.

.

I woke to the pleasant sensation of Ashton's lips on my skin. Holding him closer, I felt more than heard him mumble "Morning" into the curve of my neck This was followed by the slight movement of the two dragons as they shifted so that Ashton could scratch them.

Even while holding him like that, I was unsure as to if he actually wanted me. What if last night was nothing more than a passing fancy for him? It had to have been. He deserved so much better than me. And if people would have stopped looking at the dragons on his back and actually saw him, then I had no doubt that he could have whoever he wanted. No one would be able to resist him. I certainly couldn't.

"How do you feel?" I asked. Last night was hardly gentle.

"Wonderful," he told me.

"Do you have any regrets?"

"What do you mean?"

"About last night… About us." It hurt to say it, but I had to know. I had to be certain of what his feelings were. He'd said he loved me. But did he mean it? The words had been uttered while we were both still riding the crests of passion. Were they valid? "Because if you really don't want me… I'll understand."

I had to know… but I was afraid of what the answer might be. Of what I was sure it had to be.

He shifted in my arms, his tear-filled eyes capturing mine. He was crying for me. "Dias… I would never turn you away." I recognized the words; I had said them to him last night. Then, with a sincerity that couldn't be faked, "I'd rather die than lose you."

A single tear – holding all the emotions I felt for this man before me – gathered at the corner of my eye, and broke free. He kissed it away. "I'm never letting you go." And as he said it, I knew it was true for both of us.