when your dreams have ended

It was a mistake. All of it. A raging brush fire of a mistake. Not only did he fully regret his decision to give her the potion, but in bringing them here. Of all the places where he might have sheltered Alyvia and her children (his son included), it was the place he called home. Perhaps part of him knew that his concern would never fully abate and that it would be easier for him to know where they are and confirm they were safe with his own eyes. But there was always another way and the fact that they were in residence confirmed the obvious. He was a selfish coward and with little in the way of obstacles keeping him from continuing to make poor decisions. 

He'd done his best to make himself scarce. Offering to go on more scouting runs, insisting on extra exercises for Lorcan and Boreas all so he wasn't tempted to scratch the itch that never went away. Ultimately however and likely by some cruel design handed down by the Maker, the opportunities ran thin. Scouting finished, mounts exercised and tended, and so on until every excuse he found was in some way thwarted. It seemed in keeping with the turn of his luck. Mucking the stalls remained the only task fit for a coward of his ilk. Again, poetically fitting. 

But even that turned poorly in his favor. No sooner had he picked up a shovel and eased into one of the stalls then movement caught his eye across the paddock. There she was, like the Divine incarnate, her face contorted in fear as one of the coursers brayed eagerly waiting to be exercised for the day. Masked in a similar fear at her feat stood a small child. He was never good with ages, but she couldn't be older than three or four and though he couldn't see her face (and hadn't a good look at her until now) there seemed something eerily familiar about those ice white curls. 

Fuck He muttered to himself bracing against the stall post to catch his breath as he was hit was a sudden wave of nostalgic longing. Twenty years ago when they were both green, and he was no more than her stable hand, he'd taught not to be afraid of the horses, had spent hours soothing fears, easing her up to saddling and riding on her own. 

And here he was now, teetering on the edge of temptation, apt to ruin everything for his own selfish gain. 

Fuck indeed. 

Before he could really stop himself, he was pushing up his sleeves and walking across the stable yard, approaching Alyvia Arlange and her small child. Wordless and without greeting, he grabbed the reins of the mare and started to pat her snout. If you're going to learn, there's none better than Lizbet. She's very patient when she's not anxious to for some exercise. You have nothing to fear from her. He refrained from looking directly at Alyvia and instead focused his attention on soothing the horse with some dalish sentiments. It was easier that way. Lest that's what he kept telling himself.