[ in the beginning of this truly whirlwind romance, he had moments where he grappled with anxieties: that this was wrong, that this was blasphemous, that he really shouldn't be capable of feelings like this anymore. but he had followed his heart as he's want to do. he'd gotten lost in it, and in some ways he's still lost.

norna, oh norna, the love of his life, his everything.

hwylryn, his heart, his...future(?). he had promised as much and he wants as much, but it's here that he finally decides to actually look at what that means head-on.

he cannot give up either of them and he wonders: is he enough? he's never felt like he's enough, but the gift that hwylryn has given him that norna never could is the ability to feel like maybe he is.

instead of thinking about it any more, he makes the choice to just speak. isn't that what this has all been anyway? riding impulses down and down, into a spiral without an end. ]

I'm her only surviving attendant. [ first and foremost, always. ] But—

[ truthfully, this is the part he's really struggling with. if he was a betting man, he would not give himself good odds on surviving when she awakens. not because she's cruel, but because he knows her best, and he knows she would feel guilt. she would feel the need to correct that wrong, and that wrong is himself, so—

—he skips that part, because there's nothing anyone can do about it. that'll be between just the two of them. the way he squeezes their hands together betrays this fear only briefly. ]

—I don't think so. Actually...I think she might be happy for me. And she might make fun of me for falling in love with a dragon.