Work Text:
A linear view of time is a blessing befitting mortal minds but one that isn't granted to higher beings. Erathaol stood over the corpse of his love, a Dragonborn woman slain by a stray javelin from the enemy's horde. Still sticking forth from her side, the weapon trickled with her precious blood on the cobblestone below. Dull green adamantine armor encased her beautiful bronze scales; the metal scraped and dented by a hundred deflected blows.
She seemed so peaceful, lying there with no war on her shoulders and no oath to uphold. Intrusive thoughts poisoned the Archon's mind with the desire to let her stay dead. Golden gates would embrace her pristine soul, leading her to an eternal reward for her service.
"It is a sin to want such things." He quoted softly. Cradling her body in his arms, the visions gifted to him by his station flickered before him. Divine sight into the future was a great tool against the enemy and a terrible burden upon the wielder. Archons had gone mad with the visions of what they could not have and sinful possibilities of their corruption.
"Come back to me, holy avenger. Your work is not yet done. I still have need of you."
Slender hands of purest white removed the javelin and held the wound. Strands of spectral blue extended from his fingers and into her body, reaching deeply to her heart to tether it to her soul. To Erathaol, the soul appeared as a beautiful bird of great wings and sharpened talons. Her warrior spirit made her useful, but the softness of her feathers drew his affections.
At his command, the wound knit itself together better than new, her scales of bronze reforming over the flesh with a dull glimmer. Air filled her chest as the lungs remembered their former strength.
"Will I be spared from the sight?" He pondered aloud. With a glance at the battlefield full of fallen devils, he found any more fortune unlikely. Whiteness enveloped his surroundings, fading into a vision of a potential future.
Erathaol was sitting before his love, enjoying the tea she prepared so lovingly for him. Outside the prison of armor, she was allowed to dress freely in a comfortable gown of Summer's green.
"Have you ever considered retirement?" He asked as she returned to her seat.
"Sick of me?" She bit back, her teeth sharp behind a warm grin. "I thought you were immortal. What's ten years with me to someone like you?"
"The happiest time in that eternity." The words didn't feel real spoken aloud, as if the sin didn't exist until inscribed in speech. Shock struck her, stupifying her in place.
"Erathaol…" She began, her eyes uncertain.
"A million reasons keep us apart, most of all being that I am celestial and you are mortal. Please, I beg you to forgive this gross overreach of boundaries and power. I vow not to let this change our professional working relation-" Clawed hands reached over the table, holding his face still for her lips to embrace his.
More visions appeared before the Archon. Thousands of love confessions, and in each one, she accepted. Thousands split into tens of thousands of futures of joy, happiness, and love. Love and heroism were both possible, the two holding their duties instead of settling for a simpler life. The Paladin retired in glory to the Seven Heavens, where he could always visit her. It was all possible and all so very probable. Tens of thousands of futures split into millions of futures millennia away with his position unchanged and her spirit immortally bound to his in love.
One vision blackened the rest. One possible future among a sea of perfection. With her spirit wrenched into the Abyss by a terrible Demon, Erathaol led a desperate gambit for her return/ Scores of brothers and sisters lay dead from his crusade, eventually reuniting the two. The poison of the Abyss corrupted her beyond repair, and in his desperation for happiness, he drank the same venom. Erathaol, former Divination Lord, turned into a mad titan of despotic ambitions.
Even as a slave to his sin, he was still happier than he was now.
"Enough!" He begged. "I know of my sin. Let me see it no more."
Tears of gold streamed down his face, staining the imperfect luster with his perfect radiance. Groans escaped her mouth as she roused from the cold embrace of death.
"Did we win?" She asked before even opening her eyes.
"Yes, we did." He croaked, throat tight.
"What's wrong?" A warm claw graced his cheek, cradling his broken heart.
"Nothing, Paladin. Just a vision. Nothing more."