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Nothing could have prepared Dainsleif for seeing him again.
After five hundred years, he’d managed to grab every shred of emotion he felt about the fall of Khaenri'ah and put it under lock and key, letting himself feel only parts of it. He distanced himself from the pain, from the unimaginable loss he still wasn’t sure he could even comprehend, and he carried on, with every feeling buried deep and safe where it wouldn’t take him by surprise.
He didn’t regret it. He was cursed by immortality, there was no end in sight to his suffering, and if he let himself be taken over by grief -- like he had, at first -- he would only suffer for the rest of eternity, and that wouldn’t be of any help to anyone. He’d suffered enough for things that had never been his fault.
It did bother him sometimes, when he was camping alone in the night, surrounded only by the sounds of the wind and the distant howls of animals. Sometimes, it felt heartless to carry on, to pretend he was still a whole man fulfilling his mission, like he hadn’t been broken into a thousand little pieces and sloppily put back together, just well enough to function. He shoved it down with the rest of his survivor’s guilt and told himself it was for the best.
When he stood in the Chasm and saw the Black Serpent Knights, the wall he’d built to separate himself from his grief took a heavy blow. Still, he managed to keep it in one piece. He still had to find out what the Abyss Order wanted, and he knew those weren’t the men he’d fought beside -- not anymore. When a small part of him wondered, barely a conscious thought, if maybe one of them was him , Dainsleif shut it down and told himself that it didn’t matter. Halfdan had died in the Cataclysm, with all the others. If some part of him was still wandering the world, all he could do was wish that he would find peace soon.
But one of the Serpent Knights was different. He seemed to keep some part of himself whole, still sane, after all this time. And deep down, somehow, Dainsleif knew -- but he wouldn’t let himself hope. Hope was dangerous, when you didn’t have any of it. It could lift him up with expectations and let him crash down harder than he ever had, if he let it.
Halfdan had always shined brighter than any of the other knights, in talent and in spirit. All his men had been great fighters -- they had to be, to become royal guards -- but Dainsleif hadn’t met any who he trusted more than Halfdan, even before they fell in love. He considered himself lucky to have a man like that beside him, in battle or in his life. He considered himself even luckier that Halfdan returned his feelings.
The Black Serpent Knight standing before him was not much more than a shadow -- but even a shadow moves like the one that cast it. That knight was irrevocably Halfdan -- what was left of him after so long.
The wall that kept Dainsleif’s feelings stored quietly and safely in a dark corner crashed down.
He could have cried at the little that was left of the man he loved. He could have laughed in relief of having found him after so long. He could have walked up to him and held him -- but how would that feel? Neither of them were the people they had been five hundred years ago. Both of them were only husks, pieced together from the debris left over from their former selves.
So he did what he knew how to do best. He shoved it all down and kept going. The Abyss Order had a plan, and he had to stop it. He couldn’t break down now, when there was still work to be done.
(He ignored the part of him that wondered, will I ever not have work to do? )
There would be time to talk to Halfdan, to let himself feel everything he was holding back, later. After all, they had all the time in the world.
He hadn’t expected to be too late. He hadn’t expected the Abyss Order to win this round, just barely, and put in motion their insane plan. And he definitely hadn’t expected Halfdan to throw himself over the device, winning Dainsleif and the Traveler just enough time to deactivate it.
(In hindsight, he should have. Of course Halfdan would do the heroic thing and sacrifice himself for a chance to stop their people’s suffering. Even just a shadow had enough of him to be the most selfless person anyone could be.)
There were many unknown forces present where they were. A ghost wasn’t an unexpected sight, considering the conditions. But he had never been more glad or more heartbroken to see one.
Halfdan looked just as he remembered. He looked the same as he did the day Dainsleif met him, the day he’d confessed his feelings, the day he’d given his last order. And when Dainsleif looked him in the eyes, he knew that was the last time he’d ever see him -- his brave, beloved Halfdan.
Dainsleif could barely hold his gaze when he said, loud and clear, that Khaenri’ah still stood. The biggest lie he’d ever told, and he’d never been able to lie to Halfdan before. A lot had changed since then, and Dainsleif had picked up a habit of keeping things to himself, but he wasn’t sure he was in control of his feelings enough to seem truthful. There was a chance Halfdan saw right through his lie, but Dainsleif couldn’t bring himself to tell him that their sacrifice had been in vain.
Whether Halfdan believed him or not, at least now he could find peace.
Dainsleif’s wall was in pieces too small to begin putting together -- but at least that thought could bring him some comfort, even if nothing else could.