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Every time Brennan comes here, he feels like a traitor. A traitor to Navarra, Poromiel, the entire revolution, but worst of all, he feels like a traitor to his own sister.
***
Naolin's hair has always been long, not so long that it gets in his face during flights, but long enough for Brennan to run his fingers through it for hours, watching Naolin's eyes close in pleasure like a well-fed dragon. It's both painful and satisfying to realize that even now, even though his hair is covered in white frost, Naolin's lips curve into a smile as he settles comfortably in Brennan's lap. Brennan sighs heavily.
"What is it, my light?" Naolin looks at him with red eyes, and Sorrengail finds himself desperately trying to find the same green sparks that had once captivated the young rider. "You're worried about something, I can feel it."
He places his hand on Brennan's cheek, and the skin feels cold, but Brennan reaches out anyway.
“Troubling, your attacks.” He blurted out, looking away, until now he had rarely spoken about them directly in this place and directly. “My sister has only recently become a duchess, it is difficult for her, especially now when…”
He stopped, biting his tongue, the last thing he wanted was to make Xaiden’s stay here even more unbearable. No, Naolin would not torture someone just for the sake of it, but he punished disobedience strictly, sometimes with death.
"Brennan." He finally decides to look down, but he sees a genuine smile. "Of course, I'll tell my dear friends to wait."
Brennan sighs heavily. Really? Is that all? Naolin chuckles, as if he's just read Brennan's mind.
"Come on, Ren, why do you have to mumble and humiliate yourself? Just come and ask me for what you need, and we'll discuss it."
Meanwhile, Naolin stood up and sat next to him, touching his cheek again and leaving a brief kiss on his lips.
"I'm not a monster." His hand reaches out to touch the rider's slightly disheveled hair. "Your sister is going through a difficult time, and she needs to accept Xayden's conversion in order to make the right choice."
Brennan grimaced, his midnight was always like that, stubborn and unwavering in his judgments, even if he was wrong about something, he still defended his position to the end.
"Well, don't frown." Naolin flicked Sorrengail's nose lightly. "You'll come to understand the simple truths sooner or later, but only when you're ready. Now, go, Marbh must be waiting for you, as well as your family."
Brennan nods and reaches for his lips, planting a much deeper and more sensual kiss on them, and for just a second, he returns to Basgiath, to his room, to the bed where they lay together, discussing everything that had happened to them that day, gossiping about their professors and acquaintances, where they lived like two ordinary people. But the illusion vanished as quickly as it had appeared, and reality refused to give Brennan more than a moment of hope. This seems to be a common trait among the Sorrengales, who seem to rely on their own unrealistic fantasies to somehow make them come true.
***
"Let's fly, Marbh."
He said it curtly, just to drown out the blood pounding in his ears. Naolin watched them go, deeply confident in his victory, his thoughts already organized, while Brennan, on the other hand, was drowning in the chaos of his own emotions.
"It will stop once you decide to let go of the past."
Brennan nodded, slightly dazed, but still. Marbh sighs heavily, having once again failed to reach the sick soul of the negligent rider.