(This had material for a long fic but I preferred to leave it as is.)
The moor stretched endlessly before her, and the wind struck her face as they left behind trees, ravines, rivers, and long strands of golden grass. The sky had never felt so close, and the clouds came apart as they passed through them. It felt like a dream, the kind you would never wish to wake from.
She felt the cold. From the sky, she watched the vastness of the paths they left behind day after day, her hair whipping in the wind while her smooth hands clung to the saddle fastened at the base of the iron-strong neck of the beast she rode. Its wings gleamed almost golden beneath the sunlight, their membranes catching the breeze as its powerful limbs remained tucked close to its scale-covered body. Historia looked tiny there, seated only a few meters behind the Dragon's head, which from time to time let out soft rumbles that lulled her heart.
"Thank you for this, Reiner." She did not need to say it aloud, because the connection she shared with the fire-breathing creature reached far beyond the surface. What bound them was a bond of blood, a promise forged through a painful cut upon the skin.
In the Kingdom of Rose, when a princess is finally ready to take the throne, she must pay the price that will grant her the greatest protection of all. Once the bond has been forged, the Dragon will never allow a dagger to be raised against her.
"It is my pleasure, Your Majesty," the Dragon replied through the bond they shared.
Calmly, he beat his wings to gather more strength for the flight that had already lasted many long minutes. Only a few weeks had passed since the two of them had been joined. It was nothing romantic in the slightest; in fact, they could now be considered siblings. Millennia ago, a treaty had been forged between mankind and the beasts: "In exchange for blood, we shall grant protection."
For centuries, the pact had demanded sacrifice. Every month, a human life was offered, and in return the dragons protected the kingdom from threats beyond its borders. But somewhere along the way, things changed. There were no more sacrifices.
Only bonds that could end either very well... or very badly.
Fortunately, the bond between Reiner and Historia had gone remarkably well—no one had died during the ceremony. They had dressed in gold to honor Reiner's scales, and the banquet had been magnificent. The celebration had reached the clouds amid wine and mead. The cut each of them had received remained marked at the very center of their chests, worn as a badge of pride. Her gowns bore a golden plate at their center, marking where her bond lay, while Reiner's breastplate carried the symbol of the crown engraved upon it.
Everyone knew they were the new Queen and her guardian.
Reiner glanced slightly toward the woman resting against his long, scaled neck. He let out a low rumble that echoed against the blonde's warm chest. If they did not return soon, the men of the kingdom would begin to worry. Despite the bond, mankind would always distrust the beast.
"You are their ruler now, Your Majesty. You must return."
"Very well... take us back," Historia sighed wearily.
That afternoon, she was finally to be crowned, yet she did not feel entirely ready. Still, as long as Reiner was watching her back, everything would be all right. So she simply remained leaning against his neck while he turned and flew back toward the palace.
Long minutes passed before they finally crossed into the kingdom's territory. The stoic walls welcomed them, the town spread around the enormous castle, and with practiced grace the Dragon descended, avoiding the tallest towers as he caught sight of the guards stationed at every corner of the imposing fortress.
Reiner descended low enough to approach the dome built from the bones of their ancestors. The guards hurried forward to help the monarch dismount, though they still kept their distance, somewhat intimidated by the beast. In the end, she simply slid down along one of Reiner's wings and walked away from him.
Meanwhile, the Dragon suddenly began to shed his scales. They fell like grains of sand as his body gradually shrank. His wings, claws, horns, and fangs dropped onto the stone floor like empty husks.
"You may go and rest now, Reiner," Historia said before crossing the great doorway that swallowed her into the corridor beyond. Too many guards followed close behind her, as though they feared an attack at any moment.
Reiner remained standing for a few seconds at the center of the landing platform. The play of light made the place seem magical, the way daylight filtered through the bones arranged at the highest part of the dome, and he never grew tired of admiring that place; it was a sign of complete respect toward his people. He did not disagree with the customs, nor with the way his chest had been cut to bind his soul to Historia's. He had to protect her now. That was his duty.
—You won't get any rest standing there.
Reiner turned his head when he heard the clear voice cut through the silence. His honey-colored gaze immediately met the sea-green pearls watching him, and he smiled knowingly as his hurried steps carried him toward his brother-in-arms. In one swift movement he reached up, grasped the head of the man who stood nearly two heads taller than him, and pulled him down with enough force that their foreheads collided—for perhaps a little too hard—but a second later it became just that, skin against skin. Reiner gently moved his head from side to side, clearly feeling the other's skin. Bertholt Hoover followed the motion.
—I thought you were still out on a job. —Reiner spoke after pulling back just enough for his gaze to once again meet those eyes that seemed to shine alongside his own.
—I only arrived a little while ago. —Bertholt smiled with an angelic softness. With that reserved air he had always carried. His half-lidded eyes were framed by thick lashes, and his black hair fell across his forehead like strands of obsidian. Reiner never stopped looking at him.
Straight on. Without restraint.
—Did you come for the coronation? —Reiner asked then, smiling, excited by the presence of the companion he had grown up beside.
—I did. —Bertholt never looked away from him. There was something there that anyone could feel, perhaps a deeper bond born from the fire both of them carried in their hearts.—I couldn't miss it. Missing your big day was enough. I'm sorry about that.
The brunet's smile faded after those last words. Regret covered his expression. He had been unable to attend Reiner's ceremony because of an assignment he had to complete in his role as a bounty hunter. He had been supposed to return in time to witness the forging of such an important bond, but circumstances had not allowed it. He knew how painful that must have been for Reiner, yet secretly... he preferred it that way.
—It's alright. —Reiner rested a hand on one of the brunet's shoulders. His eyes were as sincere as ever, and an angelic smile rested upon his dry-looking lips.—At least you've come back alive once again. That's what matters, brother.
They looked at one another. So deeply that anyone could have sworn they were seeing each other's souls. Bertholt nodded before being the one to grasp the other's nape this time, bringing their foreheads together once more, feeling his skin, his scent, and his warmth. He had missed it, showing respect to another like himself.
—That gesture between your kind will always seem very strange to me.
Both of them turned quickly when Historia's voice filled the air. Bertholt instinctively bowed before the new queen, while Reiner simply watched the blonde give Hoover a small curtsy in greeting.
—You never do it with us. —Historia feigned offense as she smoothed a few wrinkles from her lavish dress.
—It's a beast's custom, Your Majesty. —Bertholt explained, unable to catch her tone. He didn't know her nearly as well as Reiner did; technically, she was still a stranger to him.—We could hurt you.
—It's alright, Hoover. —She brushed the matter aside while watching the brunet return to his previous posture, perfectly straight, every bit as imposing as any dragon, though she had never seen him take his true form.—I came to get you. The coronation is about to begin.
Reiner and Bertholt exchanged one more glance before turning their eyes toward her. Smiling, they followed her through the castle corridors. Reiner's heavy footsteps echoed alongside his steel plate armor, while Bertholt wore lighter armor and walked two steps behind the blond, watching his broad back. He couldn't stop thinking that Reiner now bore a mark upon his chest, a bond that tied him to the mortal kingdom. His soul was bound to hers now. His wings and invincible claws now carried the fragility of a dry leaf.
A free dragon cannot die. A bonded dragon, on the other hand, perishes alongside their bond-sister. Perhaps that was why he had chosen not to attend the ceremony. He had not been ready to watch Reiner give up his strength, and now that he stood there, even knowing why Reiner had been chosen, he still felt hollow, choking on the loss.
When they reached the great hall, the music began. String and wind instruments ushered in the coronation while Bertholt slipped among the other guests and Reiner took his place beside Historia. The torchlight illuminated the crystals of the crown, the guards remained close, the former queen stood there, and the former king spoke a few words to present his daughter.
Everyone looked at her. Bertholt only saw Reiner, his armor, his face, and his hair, which beneath the firelight seemed golden. They had shared years of companionship, had crossed moors, forests, and seas before ever setting foot in that kingdom. For years they had been two beasts soaring through the skies with all the freedom their wings could grant them, but all of that changed the day it was decided that Reiner would become the next queen's bond. Through the blood that ran in his veins, he was directly descended from the previous bond.
Since then, he had abandoned the sky to remain close to Reiner. Silently, no one could understand why they never saw him take his beast form anymore, but neither did anyone question it. Not even Reiner himself seemed to have noticed the moment Bertholt chose to chain his feet to the ground in silent protest.
—We are gathered here to witness the beginning of a new era, —the king declared as he held the crown in his aged hands. Every gaze rested upon him, everyone listened to his solemn words.—We have endured for thousands of years, upheld by this pact, and at last the time has come for those who will guide us into the ages ahead.
Bertholt stood among everyone else, surrounded by the awe of those eagerly awaiting the coronation. He listened to the gentle melody and could not stop thinking about the opportunities that had slipped through his fingers after Reiner accepted the burden of a bond that could have belonged to someone else had he refused, and Bertholt could not blame him. The day he was given the news, all he could do was accept that it was the right thing, because that was how Reiner saw it, because he would never leave such a burden upon someone else's shoulders.
He knew him from the tips of his fangs to the end of his tail, and even the warmth of his flames was familiar.
—Let us give thanks for this pact that allows us to share this world with our brothers of fire, —the king proclaimed while looking proudly at Reiner, hoping he would protect his daughter just as his predecessor had once protected him.
Bertholt felt as though his heart were falling apart. It was an honor, any dragon would have felt proud to be chosen to fulfill such a duty, but in the end it was nothing more than a magnificent gilded cage. Reiner would never be able to fly without her. He had to remain by her side, protecting her fragile life. He spent the rest of the ceremony trying not to flee, because he would rather have been chasing a wanted man than the heart that had slipped away from him.
Everyone applauded and cheered after the coronation. Historia embraced her father for the last time as a princess, and afterward descended the stairs that led her to the rest of the guests. Amid so many people, her gown still stood out. Surrounded by festive music, she danced with a smile while the dukes waited for their turn to share a dance with her, and Bertholt had already clung to a bottle of mead before moving several steps away from the center of the great hall.
He sat in a chair carved with dragons and from there watched his oldest companion dance with women of high society. None of them were dragons, but surely they all hoped to marry one someday, especially Reiner, for in the end he was now part of the royal family. He would become the kingdom's most celebrated knight, the one who bore the mark of royalty upon his chest.
He watched them dance. As the mead became easier and easier to drink. Long minutes passed before Reiner disappeared among the guests, and for a second Bertholt thought he had accidentally drunk too much. But no, Reiner truly wasn't there among the others, and that made him rise to his feet at once. As though he had lost something precious, desperate to run and search for him.
—Aren't you going to dance?
Bertholt turned quickly at the sound of his voice. Relief filled him, and he smiled despite himself as his gaze once again met the eyes that, long ago, had seen straight into his soul. He knew the customs. After the coronation, during the ball, while the new queen danced with the dukes, the Dragon was granted one final dance with the companion who had meant the most to them. It was the last chain tying them to freedom that had to be severed.
—I was looking for you, —Reiner insisted.
Bertholt looked at him. Hurt—not by him, not by his actions, but by fate. Why had fate given him to him in the first place, if in the end it was only going to take him away so mercilessly?
—Coming? —Reiner smiled, sincere, warm, intimate. Bertholt's heart trembled, frightened and aching, but he nodded.
The cheerful melody filled everything, the laughter, the celebrations, and the scent of food drifting through the great hall. Historia danced, the guests danced as well, while the king applauded from his old throne. Reiner still wore his armor, and the light stubble along his jaw gave him the air of a wild warrior. Bertholt followed closely behind him through the crowd until they reached an open space among them.
The blond extended his hand.
Bertholt took it, because no one there would look at them strangely, because it was natural to see two brothers of fire share such closeness. Because those who watched them felt only respect for the beasts whose loyalty never wavered. No one in the hall was unaware of the bond between those two men. They had first set foot upon those lands together, and they had remained there side by side for many years before Reiner was finally chosen to become the next bond.
Then they danced. Just as they would on any other day. Following each other's steps, meeting one another's gaze, exchanging smiles, taking each other's hands, leaping, spinning, and tangling their arms together. Despite the hindrance of wearing armor, Reiner still matched Bertholt's nimble pace, and they moved in perfect harmony with the ease that only two beings who have shared both sky and earth can possess.
To the rhythm of the music. They were nothing special among the others, even if they were taking their final step away from the life they had always known. They watched one another as they continued, listening to each other's heartbeat, feeling the fire they had shared for hundreds of years. Their hands kept finding each other, feeling the other's skin with perfect clarity, and neither of them truly wanted to let go, because even though Reiner continued smiling, he understood perfectly the situation he was in.
Laughter and more laughter.
At some point, the melody came to an end as they shared a tight embrace, one that collided against the stoic armor of the Dragon who now belonged to the kingdom.
The night was still young, the celebration carried on, and after the dance, they found a moment to step away. They leaned against the balustrade at the edge of the great hall, looking out over the village that seemed tiny from the heights of the enormous castle. They listened to the festivities as they talked, Bertholt calmly explaining that in a few days he would be leaving once again. Rumors had spread about the exact whereabouts of a criminal he had been hired to capture alive, so he intended to go. If he succeeded, the reward would be a considerable amount of gold.
—Wouldn't it be easier to fly there? —Reiner asked after hearing Bertholt mention that it would take him several days to reach his destination.
—It would —Bertholt admitted— but I've never liked doing things the easy way.
Hoover looked at Reiner, hoping he sounded convincing enough. They had never hidden their gazes from one another; their eyes were always meeting. A draconic habit, perhaps, or maybe he simply enjoyed admiring the gold in Reiner's irises, the thickness of his blond lashes, and the depth of his soul. It was more than a bond, more than being the kingdom's guardian, even if Reiner had chosen that path himself.
—Don't lie to me like that.
Bertholt played dumb as he looked up at the moon after the blond's words. He hadn't expected to hear that, nor to see that sudden expression take over Reiner's face. Why did it look as though Braun wanted to cry? He tried to feign ignorance, forcing a smile to brush the matter aside, and awkwardly gripped the dragon-bone railing, trying to pull his thoughts away from the conversation. He didn't want to have it. He didn't want to talk about his choices. He preferred not to hear anyone else's opinion. Even if it came from Reiner.
—Why do you hide things? —Reiner pressed. His brow suddenly furrowed with unmistakable frustration, as though he were about to call him out for everything Bertholt believed had gone unnoticed.
—I'm not hiding anything —Bertholt met his gaze again, his face serious now, his jaw tense as his fingers traced absent patterns along the railing—. I've never hidden how I feel from you. I've always been clear.
—Clear? —Reiner looked genuinely confused as he rested one hand on the same railing Bertholt leaned against—. You've hidden what you think and how you feel about all of this ever since it began.
—To me, that's clear enough. It's what I've always done —Bertholt stepped slightly away from the railing and, for a brief moment, wanted to run from the conversation because, in the end, it would change nothing—. You know that better than anyone.
—Why? —Reiner asked once again, waiting at last for the words he knew had been lodged in Bertholt's chest ever since he had been chosen as the bond—. Why didn't you ever stop me?
Silence settled between them for a few moments. Bertholt still looked as though he wanted to escape. His eyes wandered everywhere now—the plants, the moon, even the enormous window behind them seemed safer than looking at Reiner's face. Bertholt didn't feel capable of putting into words the pain he had buried for so long, because he wanted nothing in return. He wasn't looking to be seen. He didn't want a reward for the choices he had made. He simply wanted to keep seeing Reiner whenever he returned from his journeys. He would keep looking at him, just as he always had.
But he didn't need to say it. There was no point now. Not even if he begged the Gods themselves would anything change, and he didn't need it to.
—Because you were always free —that was all Bertholt found echoing inside his chest, like a reminder. That was why he loved him. That was what had bound him to Reiner in the first place.
His freedom to choose. To live. He could never take away Reiner's free will. He would never beg him to follow the path Bertholt believed was best for him, nor try to make him choose something else. He simply let him move forward under his own decisions, following the ideals that made him the perfect choice in everyone's eyes.
—We flew side by side for millennia —Bertholt continued, deciding to say more than he usually allowed himself, because in a few days he would be gone again, and there was nothing more he could do—. We trusted each other even when we could have burned one another. I saw how much you loved the wind and the freedom it gave you. I understand what you're leaving behind. I understand your sacrifice and your choice. So I could never ask you to choose anything else.
—I would've flown beside you a little longer if you'd asked me to —Reiner said.
—If I had asked you... —he still couldn't look at him, feeling as though his tears would break free at any moment, just as blood spills from a deep wound— I wouldn't have been able to let you go.
Reiner looked toward the hall for a moment, where everyone was celebrating. Where the torchlight burned brightest, where he should have been instead of stealing a few more minutes with the person who had carried him on the wind for more years than he could count on his fingers. They were dragons. They could soar as high as their strength allowed them, reduce entire kingdoms to ashes with nothing but their breath, and bind their souls with such unwavering loyalty that they could never look upon anyone else. Yet even though Bertholt was known as one of the strongest dragons of his generation, there he stood, defeated by nothing more than the whim of fate and his own inability to ask someone else to make a sacrifice.
Reiner felt his eyes sting. His heart beat steadily, carrying a pain that only a dragon could truly know. As though someone were trying to rip it from his chest, as though a spear had pierced him clean through. The knot in his throat threatened to suffocate him. He had always understood. He had always been aware of his companion's pain, yet he had never truly understood the reason behind it. He didn't know whether it was because of the distance that would separate them, because they would never again fly as they once had, or because of the loss of the freedom that had always guided their path. For a long time, he had expected a reproach, a complaint, anything that would tell him their wings had longed to fly in the same direction.
But Bertholt had always been the kind of person who would slit his own throat for someone else.
—You're a... troll —Reiner muttered, using it as an insult. He tried to swallow his pain, because the mark of his bond-sister rested upon his chest, because she would be able to feel his sorrow, and he didn't want her to think he regretted the blood bond they shared.
Bertholt let out a quiet, pained laugh, having just been called something so childish and ridiculous in what was supposed to be an adult conversation. His gaze shifted back to Reiner, to the pain etched across his face and to those eyes reflecting his own. He hesitated for a few seconds, but in the end he walked toward him, closed the distance between them, and with the same certainty he had always possessed, cupped the back of Reiner's neck with both hands, pulling him close until their foreheads rested together. The grip was different. They always used one hand. This time there were two, speaking of something deeper than camaraderie, and Reiner didn't pull away.
Bertholt's hands were broad, rough, and calloused, their knuckles shaped by years of hard labor. His nails still bore symbols painted with the same pigments they had once used to paint their faces before marching to war. He had always been a born warrior, yet as he held on to Reiner, he was nothing more than a beast with clipped wings, a dragon incapable of igniting even the smallest spark of fire. He closed his eyes as his heart ached, feeling Reiner's soft hair beneath his fingertips, his skin so wonderfully warm.
Reiner couldn't bring himself to look at him. His eyelids were squeezed shut, only a step away from breaking into tears. Fighting the knot in his throat, he struggled to keep himself together. Not after the choice he had made. Not after Bertholt's sacrifice had brought them this far.
Bertholt gently moved his head, his nose brushing lightly against Reiner's.
—Fly, even without me —Reiner pleaded.
And then Bertholt broke. Like a tree struck by the final swing of an axe. Like a wall crumbling beneath a catapult's blow. Something slammed straight into his chest, and within seconds his green eyes filled with tears he could no longer hold back. Every moment he had spent fighting the pain suddenly felt meaningless now that he had finally shattered in two. His knees gave way beneath him. He tried to cling to Reiner, but simply couldn't.
Frail as a sapling, he collapsed to the floor. In silent understanding, Historia had approached the great window, quietly closing it while keeping herself hidden from the eyes of those dancing, drunk on mead. Her heart knotted with sorrow as she drew the curtains shut, shielding the most loyal dragon and the freest one from being seen in such a painful moment. Pitying them, and made a victim of the jealousy born from her own bond, she left them alone, because only they could truly understand that kind of grief.
Reiner knelt beside him. He sat down on the floor, trying to wipe away the tears that burned like the flames dragons unleashed from their jaws in battle. He hoped that, someday, the one wish he could never fulfill would no longer hurt so much.
Because his freedom no longer walked hand in hand with Bertholt.
