[ In truth, he wants nothing more than to abandon all other actions except to rest with his head upon her shoulder while she holds him as best as she is able. And barring that, the only thing he desires is her presence and the comfort that he derives from it.
She might doubt that her presence is doing him any good at all, but if she were to leave him for any reason, all desire to even attempt moving and speaking would flee with her. Somewhere inside him, he knows that she is his driving force, the spark that keeps him going even when the odds are stacked against him. That was very much the case during the war against the dragons, and it is the case now.
If only he could tell her that she has no reason to apologize, that she is the only reason he has come as far as he has. And although he might be exhausted beyond belief and wavering on the brink of despair, he is still holding on because she has not given up.
Her words wash over him even as they take turns eating; not everything she says breaks through to him, but in a way, it doesn't have to. Just the sound of her voice is comforting, easing the pain he still feels in his heart and in his body as well.
But how can he reassure her that she has not failed to keep her promise when he cannot even speak? Thordan might tear them apart once again, and that knowledge causes just the barest amount of quickening inside him, beating against the stagnation that has taken hold of his aether and his will alike.
It is not enough, because what little will he still has is not sufficient to break the primal's hold. His shoulders tremble as he tries to fight what might as well be yet another futile attempt, but he must try.
First one arm moves, and then another, unfolding themselves from underneath the blanket. His movements are slow, and again, his arms shake as if protesting the actions he is not ready for. But even if he taxes what little strength he has, reaching out for her is of greater importance.
It seems to take a span of hours rather than minutes, but his fingers eventually brush against hers, fingertips bending to close around her own. Then, a line of tension forms in his shoulders as if anticipating a strike from Thordan, but as more minutes pass, nothing seems to happen.
Still, he does not relax, only leaving his hands just barely holding onto hers.
Without the use of his voice and his words, this gesture might only seen as him further seeking comfort from her, but inside, he is desperate to convey by any means possible that this is his choice. He will always love Ishgard and her people, and should it come to it, he would put himself on the line to save them all, but he loves her too, even more than he values his own life. And yet having a life with her is what he desires more than anything, and that is what spurs him on to continue fighting.
And although the primal's influence is still overwhelming nearly every other thought that he has and any action he would perform, the part of him that is clinging to his sense of self knows that King Thordan is not truly on the side of Ishgard. Or at least, he cares not for the Ishgard that Aymeric knows and loves. He would see Ishgard destroyed, her people enslaved, and for what gain?
For the first time, even though it is only a sliver of Aymeric's true feelings and is not powerful enough to break through his enthrallment, he realizes that Estinien had the right of it: if King Thordan had his way, a great many people would lose their lives, and the peace that they had found following the conclusion of the war would be shattered.
That realization lends a brief strength to Aymeric's hands, and the tenuous grip he has on Alkaid's tightens momentarily before loosening once more. ]
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She might doubt that her presence is doing him any good at all, but if she were to leave him for any reason, all desire to even attempt moving and speaking would flee with her. Somewhere inside him, he knows that she is his driving force, the spark that keeps him going even when the odds are stacked against him. That was very much the case during the war against the dragons, and it is the case now.
If only he could tell her that she has no reason to apologize, that she is the only reason he has come as far as he has. And although he might be exhausted beyond belief and wavering on the brink of despair, he is still holding on because she has not given up.
Her words wash over him even as they take turns eating; not everything she says breaks through to him, but in a way, it doesn't have to. Just the sound of her voice is comforting, easing the pain he still feels in his heart and in his body as well.
But how can he reassure her that she has not failed to keep her promise when he cannot even speak? Thordan might tear them apart once again, and that knowledge causes just the barest amount of quickening inside him, beating against the stagnation that has taken hold of his aether and his will alike.
It is not enough, because what little will he still has is not sufficient to break the primal's hold. His shoulders tremble as he tries to fight what might as well be yet another futile attempt, but he must try.
First one arm moves, and then another, unfolding themselves from underneath the blanket. His movements are slow, and again, his arms shake as if protesting the actions he is not ready for. But even if he taxes what little strength he has, reaching out for her is of greater importance.
It seems to take a span of hours rather than minutes, but his fingers eventually brush against hers, fingertips bending to close around her own. Then, a line of tension forms in his shoulders as if anticipating a strike from Thordan, but as more minutes pass, nothing seems to happen.
Still, he does not relax, only leaving his hands just barely holding onto hers.
Without the use of his voice and his words, this gesture might only seen as him further seeking comfort from her, but inside, he is desperate to convey by any means possible that this is his choice. He will always love Ishgard and her people, and should it come to it, he would put himself on the line to save them all, but he loves her too, even more than he values his own life. And yet having a life with her is what he desires more than anything, and that is what spurs him on to continue fighting.
And although the primal's influence is still overwhelming nearly every other thought that he has and any action he would perform, the part of him that is clinging to his sense of self knows that King Thordan is not truly on the side of Ishgard. Or at least, he cares not for the Ishgard that Aymeric knows and loves. He would see Ishgard destroyed, her people enslaved, and for what gain?
For the first time, even though it is only a sliver of Aymeric's true feelings and is not powerful enough to break through his enthrallment, he realizes that Estinien had the right of it: if King Thordan had his way, a great many people would lose their lives, and the peace that they had found following the conclusion of the war would be shattered.
That realization lends a brief strength to Aymeric's hands, and the tenuous grip he has on Alkaid's tightens momentarily before loosening once more. ]