Rey
If Arthas had never found me, I wonder if I could’ve even come back to Beqanna at all. The first time I remember getting ripped away by some magical quest I’d woken up on the side of the Mountain, depressed and never wanting to go down again.
Then eventually I did, and oddly enough on my search for a new beginning the gray stallion and I had crossed paths. Looking up at him now, a bit calmer than before since we’ve agreed not to go to the River, I realize that I might not always be happy or deserving of happiness, but it didn’t mean that I couldn’t try making someone else content for a change. Arthas had only ever done right by me: Ivar and Gunsynd went away in other pursuits, Leilan had been interesting, but the horse standing before me talking about how wonderful our daughter was … he was a good one. King twice over as well.
“Of course I’ll stay.” I reply, feeling the weight of his head indented against my neck. Alive. Real. This moment begins to feel hazy, making me wonder if it’s due to blood loss. For the most part I’m not afraid of imminent death, even when my eyes flutter closed weakly. What was the use in waking up on the Beach again if he’d only wanted us all to die?
I blink awake again, startled by the memory of a brilliantly shimmering blaze, blue on black and it reminds me: I’ve more to do. “For now though I’d like to rest.” I tell Arthas, leaning against his light pressure like a damsel swooning. Sleep weighed heavily, a deep exhaustion from the recent events making every movement slow and my words somewhat slurred. “Is there somewhere safe?” I question him, tilting my weary head aside. “And would it be too much for me to ask you to stay close? Just for now?”
don't go screaming if I blow you with a bang
@[Arthas]