#just how much Dain's words must've ingrained in Halfdan

[reginrokkr]

𝐋𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐈𝐈𝐈. Meaning behind Dáinsleif's visits to the Nameless City.

Today in this fine Sunday eve I choose emotional violence in thinking that Dain has now a reason to return to the Nameless City of the Chasm every now and then to place a lil Inteyvat in the same place that Halfdan drew his last breath.

[strdstd-m]

Dull-eyed, he stared up at her, back slumped against the tree trunk. Barely able to register her words amidst the pain. This... it felt familiar. Just like down in the depths. A spirit of a loved one appearing to him for a painfully-limited amount of time, only to vanish before more could be said.

Breath hitched at the salute, swallowing thickly before he looked down and ultimately returned it. The last link to the homeland. How he was able to recall it, he was unsure. It must've been so deeply ingrained and preformed so many times that it somehow became known to him at the right moment. Yet it still gave a hint of warmth in his chest.

Serkir, Skeld... He remembered now. Two of his knights. His knights. The knights that'd followed his final order to the very end, it being so deeply embedded in their psyche that they'd maintained it even after being so deeply affected by the curse. Should he be proud or ravaged by guilt?

How long? How long? The cruel passage of time had only detrimental affects on him. Whether it be the agony of the curse becoming a mere afterthought, or his memories being mercilessly ripped away the longer he walked the earth. Leaving him to ceaselessly fight the evil that plagued the land until he succumbed.

"Five... five-hundred years."

Once long and flowing blonde hair reduced to messy shorter strands, once bright eyes turned to a muted blue. Too much had changed, too much time. Dainsleif was no longer the same captain Rethel knew. Body and mind marred by a vile curse so much so, he might as well be a different person.

Dan... Halfdan.

Unwavering, unbreakable, not easily shaken. All of that was thrown away upon merely hearing Halfdan's voice back in Khaenri'ah. The man was a soft spot, dare he say a weakness, yet a dear soft spot. He could still hear the other knights joking about how "Dain's in love" and how impossible that seemed. He was in love alright, a love once lost amongst his murky memories (stars, he'd never forgive himself for ever forgetting).

Halfdan still owned his heart. How else would he have remembered him when he was nothing more than a husk of armor? How else would he be driven to wracking sobs upon recalling his true significance? Fiancé! He was his fiancé! That damn last-minute “marry me” mere days before the fall. Foolish, utterly foolish. Yet Halfdan still accepted it. Why? With such danger looming? He could still hear his laugh…

Tears pricked the corners of his eyes, gaze dropping. It was strange, indeed, seeing one without the other. She didn't know... didn't know about his true fate. How Halfdan fell and perished in Dainsleif's arms.

"They're gone, Rethel. All of them. Nothing but husks of armor." Voice was hollow, yet blunt. "I... was only able to speak with Halfdan one last time."

         For a moment, she’s feared her attempt had been in vain. That it wasn’t enough to reach him, especially so soon after she’d begun to regain her consciousness. Especially with her wavering so, through nerves and effort alike.

         And yet the moment he’d spoken her name, relief flooded through her. Grounded her fully, like a tether.

         “Ah-" Rethel. That’s right—her name was Rethel-

         The thought had a relieved yet mournful smile tugging at her lips. "Yes...yes, that's me—I...!”

         Habit had her reaching out…only to stop, to pull back fast. Was that allowed? Could she even manage to hold him now, as she was? Maybe…maybe she shouldn’t-

         She shook head, as her arms moved—set into the all-too familiar salute for her Captain.

         "It's good to see you again...Twilight Sword." She paused, then managed an attempt at a laugh. “Though you…you look to have aged about as well as Serkir’s attempt at that randalín for Skeld.” Some semblance of a jest, amid the concern she tried hard to rein back. Tried, and ultimately failed, now that she'd gotten a much better look at him-

         Just...what happened to him? And-

         “How…" She hesitated then shook her head. "Dainsleif, h-how long has it been? You’ve—changed so much since I’ve last seen you. A-and Dan, I...it's so strange seeing you without him-” And the others? Had he found them too, in that darkness he'd wandered through? Or-