“I don’t understand,” Braern replied, shaking his head. Adrissu bit his lip—for all the time he had spent turning the idea over and over in his head, that was the best he could come up with?
“Let me start over,” he said, sighing. “We have only discussed using this soul transference technique in a... weaponized way. But we could also use it to swap souls between bodies. I... I missed you very much in the hundred years we were apart, and if we could avoid having to wait through such a thing again, wouldn’t you prefer not to be apart?”
From the way Braern’s expression had changed from bewilderment to concern, Adrissu knew Braern understood what he was suggesting. The elf was silent for a long moment, looking down at his nearly empty plate, and considered the information. Nervously Adrissu added, “If I were to... make you a dragon, like me, you would not have to change your appearance at all. Any dragon can take a humanoid form and make it appear however they wish. And you wouldn’t have to deal with heats again, or your bond—any of that. It would truly be a clean break from everything.”
“That’s an awful lot to drop on me over dinner,” Braern sighed, leaning back in his chair. Despite himself, Adrissu chuckled nervously, and Braern echoed it with a sharp, breathless laugh. “So we would—what, take my soul out and stick it in a dragon’s body?”
“Exactly,” Adrissu said, perking up; he didn’t refuse outright, so that must have been a good sign. “That’s exactly what I was considering.”
“Where would we get a dragon body to do this, though?” Braern asked, frowning. “I mean, even if I wanted to—and I’m not saying anything either way yet—but even if I wanted to, how would we go about something like that?”
Adrissu hesitated. Thatwouldbe the most difficult part, of course, but not prohibitively so. It would take some careful planning, but Adrissu had a solid idea of where all the nearest dragons were—their best bet would probably be one of the younger ones, who were about his age and unmated. There were three he could think of within a few days of travel: a green, a gold, and a red. The red was the youngest, only about a hundred: just old enough to have set out on his own, but not old enough to have gained any significant strength or power. The green was a female, so probably not ideal for Braern. The gold was a bit older than Adrissu and had a similar interest in magic, which meant he might be strong enough to seriously threaten Adrissu’s life; they would need a meticulous plan to incapacitate him.
“It would be tricky,” he admitted, considering his words. “But I have a few different dragons in mind that we could probably, ah, procure without too much difficulty.”
Braern nodded slowly in acknowledgment, but the same frown lingered on his face. Adrissu waited, watching him anxiously as he mulled it over.
“I don’t think so, Adrissu,” he finally said in a soft voice, and Adrissu sighed, deflating into his seat. “That’s just... a really big deal. Becoming a dragon. I don’t think I wouldwantto be immortal.”
“Even if it meant we would be together? That you wouldn’t have to keep dying and coming back?” Adrissu pressed. Braern winced. He was unsure how much Braern recalled about his past deaths, but he did have at least some memory of them, and Adrissu doubted they were pleasant.
“It’s not so bad,” Braern said, despite his expression. “At least, I don’t think it is. Not yet. Who knows, Adrissu? Ask me again when I’m older. For now, I don’t think I want to.”
It was unsurprising, almost exactly what Ruan had told him. But he had in time changed Ruan’s mind—maybe he would eventually change Braern’s, too.
“Of course,” Adrissu said after a beat of silence, standing to take his dishes to the wash basin. “I understand. Just something to consider.”
He could feel Braern watching him as he stepped away, but he did not look back, fearing his face might betray the mix of emotions swirling in his chest. He knew he would have to be patient; still, the rejection stung.
But by the time Braern had come to stand next to him, placing his own dishes in the wash basin, Adrissu managed a fond smile at him; and after a moment of hesitation, the elf smiled back.
“You’re not upset?” he said softly, leaning against Adrissu, who sighed and wrapped one arm around the elf’s shoulders.
“It’s not what I wanted to hear,” he said, considering his words. “But how could I be upset with you? I learned a long time ago that you’re going to do what you want to do. I can tell you what I want all day long, but in the end, you’ve always been stubborn. If you don’t want to, you won’t. If eventually you come to the conclusion youdowant to, you will. There’s little I could do or say to really change your mind.”
“I’m notthatstubborn,” Braern said, stifling a smile. He pressed closer to Adrissu, wrapping his arms around the dragon’s slim waist and burying his face in his shoulder. “I love you.”
“I’ll always love you,” Adrissu murmured, squeezing him. “Even when we’re apart, I’ll love you.”
Life went on, as it always did. The academy took up most of Adrissu’s time, but Braern was often there with him, so they never had to spend too much time apart. Adrissu would occasionally ask if his feelings had changed at all about the soul transference ritual; they never did, but Braern never seemed uncomfortable with the conversation.
In his own time, Braern was working on a book of elven poetry. As was the elvish custom, he hand-made the paper and bound the booklet himself, carefully sewing the reams together with a thick needle and red thread. Then he carefully transferred the poems that he’d written in a careful, even script, using some of the finest inks Adrissu owned.
He worked on the project for several months, but when he was done, he presented it to Adrissu with a wide grin.
“It’s done,” he said softly, beaming with joy, as Adrissu carefully flipped through the pages. The swirls of fanciful elvish script made Adrissu’s heart swell with pride; he thought of Ruan, who could not read at all for so much of his life, and marveled at how far his mate had come since then.
“You should be very proud,” he said, smiling softly back at Braern. “Why don’t you hold a reading? I’m sure plenty of people would come to listen.”
Braern shook his head. “It’s for you,” he said, folding his hands over Adrissu’s, as if to signify his ownership over the book. “You’re the only one I care about reading any of it.”
Adrissu’s heart skipped a beat again. He knew they were mostly love poems, of course, but he had not thought the book itself was for him alone. He nodded silently and looked down at the book in his hands, his vision swimming, unsure of how to respond.
“Thank you, love,” he finally managed, his voice rough. Next to him Braern laughed, pressing closer to him and hugging him tightly.
“It’s all for you,” he repeated softly against Adrissu’s ear. “It’s always for you.”
When Adrissu had read all the poems, he carefully displayed the book in his study, atop a shelf that was just beneath Ruan’s shield still mounted on the wall. He had something to remember Ruan, and now Braern. He still had most of Volkmar’s belongings, but even after all these years, those somehow felt too painful to look at. Maybe someday he would go through it all, find one of his favorite paintings, and set that up somewhere. It would be nice, he thought, to have something on display from each of his mate’s lives. It would be better for Braern to stay with him forever; but if he could not convince the elf, then he could look at the things that had been left behind, and remember, and wait.
