Bramblepoint we steal fire from the heavens

He was quiet for a few moments, trying to put into words just exactly everything he was feeling while reveling in her soothing embrace. He didn't want to answer her at first; he wanted to pretend he hadn't even brought it up and let this moment be free of his fears. How could he tell her that this scared him because he was weak? Because he was afraid of being vulnerable? But he wouldn't deny her the answer she gently sought; he had brought it up after all. He released a heavy sigh against her fur. Because it's not something I can control, and control is how I stay safe. Control was how he kept from feeling loss ever again. He kept his face hidden, afraid he wouldn't be able to keep being truthful with her if he could see her face. My father died in battle...right in front of me. I was unable to save him—I felt helpless, and I'm afraid of feeling that way ever again. He didn't bring up his mother who he knew had disowned him for being natrona. He was being a coward, not wanting to tell her he was a traitor. Maybe he would tell her eventually, but he had opened himself up as much as he could take right now. He hadn't spoken of his father's death in a long time, not to anyone, and the grief was renewed with the resurfacing of all the painful memories.