e n c a n t a d o r
Their moment of joy was brief, and even before he'd said anything Encantador could see the look on her face: the guilt, the worry... the shame. Instantly he knew that he was about to know the truth; Dany would have been hard-pressed to conceal it now, anyhow, what with the evidence swollen and obvious within her belly.
He stood frozen, his expression unreadable as she lapsed immediately in storytelling mode. Her eyes had turned down, away from his, whether to remember more clearly or because she could not bear meeting his eyes, he did not know, but when the name 'Scylla' was dropped his own gaze was averted to his feet. At first, he felt only a coldness in his limbs, despite the heat of the day, but then, when she described how much her daughter look like her, he realized something.
She wasn't telling him everything. In fact, she knew she wasn't telling him everything; she'd just outwardly acknowledged it right in front of him, as if it were enough.
Was it enough? Encantator's legs were trembling with shock; his mind swam with jealousy. He stood, lost in his thoughts, away on a plane far in the past, back when Dany had still lived with him. Mind racing, he did the mental math and came to the conclusion that she must have fallen pregnant with Scylla just after he'd left. He was unsure how to react to this. He hadn't known her well, in truth, but still... she had been as much his as the sun was the sky's.
"Who...?" he whispered to his feet, then suddenly shook his head. "Never... nevermind. I... I don't want to know." When finally he lifted his head and saw the tears in Dany's eyes, his insides crumbled. "And this one...? Are they from the same...?" Why did it have to be this way? Why the hell hadn't he stayed...? He could see the self-loathing in her dark eyes, and strangely, that hurt more than anything else. He let out an exasperated sigh, half-tempted to laugh in derision had the situation not been such a solemn one.
"Hate you... how... how could I? I am just trying to understand. You're not disgusting, Dany... you moved on. We all moved on." Briefly, he thought of the mare in the crossing, the one he'd taken in a fever when he'd been half-crazed with grief and apathy. She had invited him, and yet, to know that she had been his first, and he didn't even know her name, that filled him with a poison so debilitating he thought he might collapse on the spot. He could not tell her. He could not. Even if it made him a hypocrite. He couldn't make her hurt any more than she did now.
His throat was tight with emotion, and as his eyes traced Dany's features, the tears on her cheeks, her scarred neck, her swollen abdomen, he couldn't stop it. All he could picture was her letting another stallion... but he couldn't. He shouldn't. The thought made him sick to his core. But then, despite himself, he stepped forward suddenly, closing the space between them again. He made an effort, though he was almost frightened to do so, to touch her again. His lips traced the faded lines of wounds that had long since healed; he buried his face in the sinews of her neck, not wanting her to see the pain in his face.
"And these?" he croaked.
el barroco x writhe | four | dunskin | 15.1 | mustang | shiva |