Cerulean Cape i let all my love rot inside me

Drogon’s ears twitch as she replies that she doesn’t want anything and he wonders if that is the truth or a lie. He’s told plenty of them, told them so often that he can no longer define the line between what he has made up and what is truth. It doesn’t matter. He has unmade and re-made himself, slaughtering the naive child he’d been in the process. He moves on but in reality it feels a lot like running away. He is running, he’s been running since the day he was “pup nabbed”. Anytime he gets too close to forming an attachment he flees because the truth was that he only trusts himself. He may not be afraid of the wilds or, even, death but he is afraid of growing attached. Afraid to let someone in and the one time he had begun to he’d been told his life would be snuffed from him when he ceased being useful to her ( ok, so that wasn’t exactly what Miraak had said but the part of being killed when he stopped being useful to the Dark Brotherhood had been a harsh wake up call ). She reiterates what she’s already told him, but he’s already decided that he will tag along. “That’s half the journey, isn’t it?” He murmurs as he joins her. “— finding out where we’re going, I mean.” He isn’t bothered by her indecisiveness as to where she intends to go because it aligns with his own. For now, it is exactly what he needs and he is content to be her companion.