A/N: More random crap from my twisted mind. It's not too slashy…Basically a group of happily weird and random Dragonheart thingers…Woo for my brain!
To The Stars
'Now where do we turn?'
'To the stars Bowen, to the stars.'
He sat, ragged, nursing his wounds, both physical and emotional. Kara had left, to help with her people. Bowen sat where his friend had fallen.
'Look to the stars.' he repeated softly the words of his fallen friend. Deeper still he feared that it was not just friendship that made the loss so painful.
He had come to not only respect, but dare he say, love the dragon he called Draco. When the dragon requested his own death Bowen could do nothing but gape. He would not kill his friend, yet, in the end, he did just that. For the greater good he rid the world of the last dragon. The greatest dragon, Draco.
Not all is lost, he still has the stars, and he indulges in them much. Kara has given up on him, for he spends his night staring at the sky, looking for his dragon. She let him indulge at first, ignoring his constant sky watching. She grew tired after a few days and she went to help the villagers.
Only a week later, with the pain still fresh, his only friend is the strange monk who writes beside him. Bowen is thankful for the companionship, the loss of Draco still stinging.
His shoulder still sore, he stares out into the dusk, waiting for night to fall so he may gaze upon those precious stars. The monk sits, unfolding his parchments and greeting Bowen with a curt nod. Bowen, with a weak smile, says his hello. He turns to the sky and watches, like every other night, watches for those stars. He fears his obsession, but more so he fears forgetting. The way Draco laughed at the cynical jests made at his expense, they way the dragon spoke of times long past, and most of all the warmth of his friendship, so unlikely, yet so painfully strong.
The wound on his flesh is nothing compared to the ones in his heart. He knows the bond is too strong, friendship and love driving him.
And with a burning realization he turns to the monk. He smiles and stands giving a farewell to the surprised man. Bowen, as always, stays until the sun rises full and the day is well underway.
His feet carry him beyond the castle walls and his horse carries him to the place where he first meet the ancient creature. When the dragon he came to know as Draco shared his heart with a boy so undeserving.
It was the same boy that cost Bowen his friend, but, he should thank the boy. Without the tragedy of his vile spirit Bowen would have never befriended Draco, but, at the same time Draco wouldn't have died so soon.
With the realization of his affection for the dragon close at heart he curls against the stone later where the dying Enion lay. And he imagines the warmth of serpitine breath and the soft thump of a dragon's heart.