continued from ( xxx ) @caracarnn
he had been feared. he had been powerful. he had been different. and yet none of it was enough. none of it would ever be enough. that thought was like a scar there against the back of his mind. a bright red scar that would never go away. he was nothing. he was never going to be anything. he was not a chosen, he was not the dragon. he was simply a man who could channel, a man with protential but not enough of it. the thought was bitter and nasty. he hated it. he wanted it gone, stamped out.
as much as he hated rand? yes. because rand was all those thoughts. the feeling that seemed to ache inside of him every time he looked at him. this was the great dragon? the man that was meant to break or save the whole world? why? he was nothing special, was he? he was here collared and at his feet. did they not see this? how he had bested him? how he was in control of the situation? rand al'thor was nothing. there was nothing about him that made him special.
"you talk a lot." he says, adjusting the glove on his hand. he doesn't look at him. he doesn't want to look at him. he's overcome with rage. one that would drive him to kill rand if he were to make himself look at him and face the source of what everyone might call shortcomings. but what were they now? now that he had gotten the dragon collared and he was dragging him to the great lord? what would they say to him now? he had managed to do what none had done. no chosen could have done better. no chosen had. "the great lord may want you alive. but only so that he might kill you. me though, me he will reward."
