That doesn’t mean he doesn’t wish he could see her again. He wishes more than anything that he could give her one last kiss, and explain that the job he took that day was important. That it wasn’t even really a paid job. But he can’t do even that much, because if he sees her again he won’t have the strength to leave.
There’s this selfish part of him that wants to go rushing to her even now, to tell her that he loves her and it’s been unbearable existing without her. And then he reminds himself that she’s probably moved on. It doesn’t matter that he hasn’t heard a word about her finding a husband, a lover. There’s nary a word about her romantic prospects, and he doesn’t know if it’s because she’s discreet or if it’s because there isn’t anyone.
He selfishly hopes she’s as alone as he is, and immediately he feels bad for that. He doesn’t wish her unhappiness, he just wishes that her happiness was with him.
Roliand is lost in his thoughts as his dinner cooks over a small campfire. He’s in one of those wells of self-pity that have become more frequent recently, and he’s not really paying to his surroundings when he feels a dagger press into his back.
He freezes, his mind very abruptly and firmly grounded in the present. He’s contemplating whether he can get to his sword before the blade at his back is stabbing into important organs when he hears a familiar voice.
“Sloppy.” It’s a familiar voice, and instead of that being a relief, he tenses further.
“By the nine, princess, you scared me!” He’s gasping and turning to see her.
She’s as beautiful as he remembers, perhaps a bit sharper around the edges, but not in a bad way. His chest tightens as he watches her step around him and settle on the ground a short distance away from him. She’s watching him warily, not quite smiling, but he can see that she’s not going to shout him to pieces, so that’s something.
They’re silent, contemplating each other for a long time. He’s not sure whether he should apologize, or congratulate her on making something of herself, and she’s not giving him any clues as to what she’s thinking about either. He has nothing to go on, and it’s painfully apparent that he’s lost in this conversation.
He’s gotten less good with people over time, like his self-inflicted solitude has ruined his social skills. He watches her, not quite sure what to say, not sure how to begin a conversation that is long-overdue. And she’s watching him, and waiting for him to say something, anything. He can see it in the way her brows are slowly rising, in the way her lips are pursed in disapproval.
He opens his mouth to say something, rethinks it, realizing he’ll sound like an idiot of the highest caliber, and then closes his mouth.
“So,” she says finally, a small act of mercy. “What have you been up to? I haven’t heard a thing.”
“Uh,” He gestures vaguely in the air. He’s really not good at this. “Dealing with problems for people. Taking care of uh... issues.”
“I hear rumors that you’re an assassin.” He lets out a surprised bark of laughter, and she frowns at him. That was clearly not the response she wanted or expected. “Are they true?”
“No,” He’s still laughing, and with the laughter has come a release of tension. Perhaps that’s why he’s laughing so hard at something that is honestly not very funny. He’s so tense, he just doesn’t know how to deal with it now that it’s been relieved. “I’m not an assassin. I deal with uh... other things. Bandits, forsworn, draugr, pests. I’m still just a simple mercenary, a simple man.”
Kathryn nods, and he can see that she’s piecing things together in her head.
“What about you, Dovahkiin, how’s life in the spotlight treating you?” She flinches, eyes him warily. Clearly she wasn’t expecting him to have kept track of her. Surprise! he thinks. He’s been following her every movement, missing her desperately and trying to convince himself he didn’t. Of course he knows what she’s been doing.
“It’s...” She hesitates, chews on her lower lip, and then continues quickly, the words spilling out rapidly. “Roliand, I miss you. I don’t know why you left, or what’s going on, but I loved our time together, and I want... I want you by my side.”
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timeasmymeasure
"Bandit: A Love Story" -- 9b/11 -- F!DB/M!Bandit
Date: 2013-02-01 03:04 am (UTC)There’s this selfish part of him that wants to go rushing to her even now, to tell her that he loves her and it’s been unbearable existing without her. And then he reminds himself that she’s probably moved on. It doesn’t matter that he hasn’t heard a word about her finding a husband, a lover. There’s nary a word about her romantic prospects, and he doesn’t know if it’s because she’s discreet or if it’s because there isn’t anyone.
He selfishly hopes she’s as alone as he is, and immediately he feels bad for that. He doesn’t wish her unhappiness, he just wishes that her happiness was with him.
Roliand is lost in his thoughts as his dinner cooks over a small campfire. He’s in one of those wells of self-pity that have become more frequent recently, and he’s not really paying to his surroundings when he feels a dagger press into his back.
He freezes, his mind very abruptly and firmly grounded in the present. He’s contemplating whether he can get to his sword before the blade at his back is stabbing into important organs when he hears a familiar voice.
“Sloppy.” It’s a familiar voice, and instead of that being a relief, he tenses further.
“By the nine, princess, you scared me!” He’s gasping and turning to see her.
She’s as beautiful as he remembers, perhaps a bit sharper around the edges, but not in a bad way. His chest tightens as he watches her step around him and settle on the ground a short distance away from him. She’s watching him warily, not quite smiling, but he can see that she’s not going to shout him to pieces, so that’s something.
They’re silent, contemplating each other for a long time. He’s not sure whether he should apologize, or congratulate her on making something of herself, and she’s not giving him any clues as to what she’s thinking about either. He has nothing to go on, and it’s painfully apparent that he’s lost in this conversation.
He’s gotten less good with people over time, like his self-inflicted solitude has ruined his social skills. He watches her, not quite sure what to say, not sure how to begin a conversation that is long-overdue. And she’s watching him, and waiting for him to say something, anything. He can see it in the way her brows are slowly rising, in the way her lips are pursed in disapproval.
He opens his mouth to say something, rethinks it, realizing he’ll sound like an idiot of the highest caliber, and then closes his mouth.
“So,” she says finally, a small act of mercy. “What have you been up to? I haven’t heard a thing.”
“Uh,” He gestures vaguely in the air. He’s really not good at this. “Dealing with problems for people. Taking care of uh... issues.”
“I hear rumors that you’re an assassin.” He lets out a surprised bark of laughter, and she frowns at him. That was clearly not the response she wanted or expected. “Are they true?”
“No,” He’s still laughing, and with the laughter has come a release of tension. Perhaps that’s why he’s laughing so hard at something that is honestly not very funny. He’s so tense, he just doesn’t know how to deal with it now that it’s been relieved. “I’m not an assassin. I deal with uh... other things. Bandits, forsworn, draugr, pests. I’m still just a simple mercenary, a simple man.”
Kathryn nods, and he can see that she’s piecing things together in her head.
“What about you, Dovahkiin, how’s life in the spotlight treating you?” She flinches, eyes him warily. Clearly she wasn’t expecting him to have kept track of her. Surprise! he thinks. He’s been following her every movement, missing her desperately and trying to convince himself he didn’t. Of course he knows what she’s been doing.
“It’s...” She hesitates, chews on her lower lip, and then continues quickly, the words spilling out rapidly. “Roliand, I miss you. I don’t know why you left, or what’s going on, but I loved our time together, and I want... I want you by my side.”