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Summary
“Did you forget the little encounter we had on the road to Rosby?”
Heat and putrid meat and a screeching doom at their backs.
“I did not.”
The simplicity of his answer had Gwayne scrambling for purchase. He thought Criston had gone mad, he thought his outward hostility had turned to a death wish. “Dragonstone and their dragons are just across the bay… what? Grown tired of living, have you?”
After having almost been driven mad by him, Criston now held Gwayne in the palm of his hand, along with all the answers the man hadn’t been able to pry from him. “Are you afraid, Ser?” he asked, and could hear the weight in his own tone, the subtle invitation to escalate.
Neither man broke eye contact, and Gwayne drew ever closer to Criston’s horse. “Worse, I’m rational.” His eyes were wide and round, a stormy mix of greys and blues, begging to be let in or let go.
“We advance.”
~
a reinterpretation of s2, wherein criston finds himself falling for another hightower
[edited 20/08/26: minor inserts, grammar adjustments]