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Gawen
You wake up every morning to face the same demons that left you so tired the night before. And that, my dear, is bravery.
Even as Arah ushers him away from the impromptu battlefield, he glances behind his shoulder the entire way. And he sees his mother careen towards the cliff, the shadowed figure that hounds her to the edge. Gawen cries like the fires of the underworld lick up his heels, incapable of shouting or screaming, begging the slayer for mercy. Gawen has always loved his wings, for their stability, warmth, and comfort. For their beauty. But he would tear them from his shoulders and let the macabre wound bleed free if only to give them to his mother in that heart-stopping moment, so that she may use them to fly away from her awaiting death.
All he sees is her recovery, slamming into a nearby tree in a way that must hurt, but it doesn't matter. It might hurt but it's not death.
The rest is nothingness, and he turns and hides his face willfully against the pale of Arah's shoulder. Lyanna's words echo in his mind, soft reassurances like feather down and bliss that stuffs his brain with cotton to stop the hemorrhaging. He wobbles unsteadily beside the pale maiden, not sure who he wants more; his mother to assure her safety, Lyanna for her familiarity and gentleness, Tilney for his rare paternal presence, or Arah for how she lets him shield his eyes and keep pretending for a little while longer. He's not ready to face this brand of reality, not yet.
"I wanna know 'bout companions," he manages to wrench from his thick and choking throat, even as his knees tremble and quake like the Earth God is shaking the soil beneath him. It's a foolish notion, asking for a story for distraction after watching his mother in battle, but it's what Arah offers and it's what he will accept. "Please." Naivety could be guaranteed a little bit longer.
@Arah after the challenge viewing thread?
