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I bet, had he lived, Viren would have been so pissed that he was replaced by this nepo-baby who shows up late to official events, doesn't pay attention in meetings and ultimately betrays the crown for his gf.
Viren:And to top it all off, his craft game is ass.
"shipping and blorbofication are not inherently at odds with understanding a story's deep themes" and "some people can't grasp the themes of a story because they never learned how to engage with stories outside of the lens of shipping and blorbofication" are two statements that can coexist
blorbofication to me is when you love a character in such a laser focus way that you somewhat detach them from the narrative from which they are inserted and treat them in a way roughly similar to how you'd treat an oc for which you still have no story and just like to put them in situations just for fun. which there's nothing wrong with btw, it's just that it can easily lead to people forgetting the character engine in a narrative and not just a barbie doll
Callum felt hands close around his throat, restricting his breathing. His hands, he realized too late. Everything faded to black.
His eyes opened again, a pearly haze covering his whole field of vision. He was looking in Viren’s—no, Avizandum’s mirror. The elf on the other side smiled sinisterly. Callum felt his own mouth curve.
Wait. What?
He began pacing. Or rather, his body did. He tried to stop, but his muscles weren’t reacting. Soren had talked about feeling like this when he was paralyzed, Callum remembered. Somehow this seemed worse. Like something else was controlling him. Or someone. His head turned upwards, till he was staring at the dragon queen. He tried to scream. His mouth opened. Maybe it was working?
“Zubeia,” that wasn’t his voice, “You haven’t aged a bit.”
No no no no no
“You look as young, and ravishing as the day you betrayed me.”
The dragon queen snarled, and Callum flinched, disturbed by the anger on her usually affable face. His body just stood calmly, continuing to talk in a voice that Callum knew would haunt him for the rest of his life.
“So sorry to hear of your mate’s untimely and tragic passing.”
The voice spoke with sarcasm that Callum would have been proud of, if it had been his voice. If it had been any other subject. He tried to yank his hands up to cover his mouth, tried to kick his legs and flail his arms and shake his head— anything to stop that voice. Nothing happened. He felt himself turn, facing his friends.
Ezran, his eyes full of fear and confusion. Rayla, looking at him like he was a stranger. Soren, with his hand on his sword.
Draw it, Callum tried to yell, Stop me, please, anything to stop me. But his old friend just glared at him, as the voice continued its taunts.
“So these are the champions you’ve gathered to try and stop me? They’re nothing but pathetic children.”
His body walked towards Ezran.
No, Callum whimpered, Please, not my baby brother...
Tears streamed down his cheeks. He gasped for breath, but his mouth only moved to deliver more insults.
“The whiny child king…”
No, Ezran, no, please, it’s not me.
He watched his little brother flinch as the voice spat words like daggers. Callum felt like he was choking, gulping for air like he was pressed underwater. He wished he was.
“Callum?”
“In over his head, and he knows it.”
“Callum!”
Callum gasped awake, panting. He put his hands to his chest. They followed his command. He was in control of his body. He ran his fingers through his hair, and felt at the cold wetness covering his cheeks. I’m in control of my body. He closed his eyes to calm himself, but was immediately affronted by the image of the purple elf. His eyes shot open again. He shook his head, trying to banish the residual terror that still held him captive.
They were in the Drakewood. They had come here because they needed to get to Rex Igneous. To find Aaravos’ prison before Claudia did. He was safe. At least, relatively. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart.
“Callum?”
He realized for the first time that Rayla was sitting right next to him. He jumped. Her hand was on his shoulder. He glanced down and she immediately took it away. Right. He wasn’t exactly speaking to her.
“What do you want?” he said, wiping the tears from his face.
She looked incredibly worried. Oh, now you care about me? he thought, looking away in anger.
“You were… flailing in your sleep. Gasping for breath. I just… I thought you’d want to be woken up.”
“Great. Thank you.” He dug the palms of his hands into his eye sockets, trying to rub away the nightmare. Or rather the memory.
“Are you okay, Callum?”
“I’m fine,” he snapped. “Just a nightmare.”
He looked down at his hands. They were shaking. He closed them into fists, then opened them again. Closed, opened. He was in control.
“Just a nightmare,” he repeated softly.
—————————————
The nightmare found him again the next night, in the belly of the mountain. The same taunting voice echoing in his ears, his little brother’s hurt face seared in his memory. This time no one came to wake him, so he was forced to ride out the rest of the sequence as well.
He watched himself insult Soren, the man who had become his best friend in Rayla’s absence. The cruel irony of the insult was that it played on what Soren used to poke fun at Callum for when they were younger; his parentage. Callum knew it was Soren’s greatest insecurity. He hoped that his friend knew he would never talk that way, never rub salt into that wound. Here he was, though, mouth moving; a voice that wasn’t his own telling Soren that his father didn’t want him.
Next came Rayla. Oh, Rayla. Callum didn’t know where he stood with her right now, but that didn’t mean he wanted to see her hurt. Especially by his own hands.
They’re not mine, Callum pleaded. These words aren’t mine!
She couldn’t hear him though. No one could. No one but him; a hostage to his own mind, a stranger to his body.
“Oh, my time has come.”
Let me go, please let me go.
“My return to this world is inevitable.”
The memory faded to black, and Callum jolted awake again. He went through the same routine as the previous night; feeling his chest, hair, face, eyes… he was okay. A gentle wind blew across his tear-strewn cheeks. The breeze dome. That’s right, they were taking a pause, waiting for the tide of lava to ebb enough for the group to cross. He said a silent thank you to his newly inherited staff, which had maintained the spell even in his less-than-capable state.
He let out a long breath, looking around. Ezran was asleep. He looked peaceful, even, curled up next to Zym. Callum tried to fix this image in his mind, a replacement for the one that was haunting his closed eyelids. It didn’t work.
Aaravos was now a constant threat looming over his head. Callum thought he could feel the phantom tug of invisible hands on his limbs every time he moved. He was a danger to everyone here. He needed a contingency plan, he needed… a way out.
He looked across the dome to Rayla, who was sleeping peacefully on her side. He hated to wake her, but when would he ever get another perfect opportunity to talk to her alone? To ask… what he needed to, without his little brother overhearing?
Mind made up, Callum walked over to her carefully; shaking her shoulder.
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Callum sat on the corner of the bed to take off his boots, sinking into the mattress. A smile tugged on his lips as he watched Rayla pull off her overcoat and dress down into her sleek Moonshadow pajamas. Three years married and the sight of her still took his breath away. She turned and smiled at him over her shoulder, running her fingers through her hair to undo the signature braid she’d adopted in recent months. Once it was all untangled, she made her way over to their bed.
She sat down on the bed slightly behind him, sliding her hand over his shoulder and down his chest. Callum let out a long sigh of contentment as she placed a gentle kiss at the base of his neck. She moved upwards, slowly trailing kisses closer and closer to his jaw. It would be so easy to just let her continue. To get lost in her scent and her lips and the feeling of her skin… but he couldn’t. Not tonight. Tonight he had something important to get off his chest.
“Rayla?”
“Hm?” She replied softly, not pausing her kisses.
“We need to talk.”
She stopped.
“Okay…” her voice was tentative as she scooted herself around to be directly next to him. “What’s up?”
Callum exhaled.
“Rayla,” he took her hands, smiling gently, “You have been… the best six years of my life.”
A concerned look spread across her face. “What are you—”
“Just…” He gave her hands a squeeze as he interrupted. “Let me finish.”
She closed her mouth and nodded, still looking worried.
“In exactly one year, the stars are going to align. Aaravos could— will come back.”
A small whimper escaped the back of Rayla’s throat at the topic, but she nodded, letting him continue. He faltered.
“And…we don’t know if— I need you—” He stopped, the words tangled in his throat. He looked down and away from her eyes, then let out a long breath. “This isn’t easy.”
He tried again. A different tactic this time.
“I was really little when my dad died. I don’t remember very much about that time, but I do remember his funeral.” Rayla squeezed his hands in comfort as he continued. “I remember my mom crying so much, and I remember… I remember worrying that I would never see her smile again.”
A small tear rolled down his cheek, and Rayla was quick to gently wipe it away. He sniffed, trying to regain composure.
“But then she met my stepdad. And fell in love.” He smiled, meeting Rayla’s eyes once more. “And she was happy. And they had Ezran, and she was really happy. The happiest I’d ever seen her.”
He sighed, trying to get his words right. “What I’m trying to say is… we don’t know what’s going to happen in a year. We don’t know what’s going to happen to me.”
Rayla caught on to what he was saying. “Callum…”
He held up a hand. He had to finish.
“If something happens to me; if I don’t… make it… I need to know that you won’t let it stop you from being happy.”
It was her turn to cry, the hot heavy droplets trailing the outline of the purple marks on her cheeks. Callum wished he could kiss them away, but he knew he’d get caught up in her, so he settled for mimicking her earlier movements and brushing them away with his thumb. He left his hand there, cupping her jaw, and waited for a response. She inhaled a shaky breath.
“Callum, I can’t…” she began, but then shook her head defiantly. “Nothing is going to happen to you.”
He sighed, deflating. He had been worried about this.
“Rayla, I wish I could agree with you about that, but the truth is something very well could happen to me.” She shook her head still, fully in denial, but he ignored it. “We need to talk about this now, while I’m still here. I need you to know that… that I’d be okay with you finding someone else.”
He forced the sentence out past the lump in his throat. He loved her. He would do anything for her. Her happiness in the future might hinge on these words, and so he had to say them. Even though he didn’t know whether or not he believed them. Rayla grabbed his wrist tightly, holding onto him like a lifeline.
“I don’t want someone else, Callum,” she pleaded, “I just want you.”
“And I will be yours for as long as I can be,” he promised, pressing his forehead against hers, “But—”
“No,” she said firmly, “No buts.”
He sighed again.
“Rayla—“
“No. I am not having this conversation with you. Not now. Not while we still have so much time.”
He took a breath, ready to argue, but she clamped her hand down firmly over his mouth.
“I will not dwell on these… what ifs, Callum. All that matters is right here. Right now.” She took her hand away, trailing it around the back of his neck. “And right now, I have you.”
He smiled sorrowfully, conceding the point.
“You have me,” he agreed.
She pulled him into a tight hug, and he let himself live in the moment. He breathed in her scent, felt the warmth of her cheek pressed against neck. He wished he could stay here, right here, forever. But he couldn’t. And even as she pulled him down onto the bed, and wrapped herself around him underneath the blankets, he couldn’t shake the feeling that someday they would need to confront this. He worried that when the day came, it would already be too late.
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