Daggers and Daffodils

Delusions or Dreams

Thanks for the kind words, everyone, fortunately the data set was destroyed from the scrape! Got me in such a good mood I sped up the process on this one a little.

I haven't been this motivated and excited to write for D&d in years. To the point that I even drafted a concept for a Viggo fic. But that's for much later. This chapter has a dream sequence in the beginning so sorry if anyone gets confused. Also, this chapter is THE delulu fan service chapter.

edit: I quite literally finished the entire chapter. then had the damn draft deleted. Thankfully my beta reader saved about over half of it but sorry for the delay.

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Soft.

It's the best description for the feeling of your hair wrapped in his hand. A small strand, gently stretched and curled around his index and middle fingers.

The summers of Berserk, much like her people, burned hot and shined bright. The sun fills the entirety of the room despite the early hours, casting a golden sheen onto your still peacefully resting form.

He had mentally begged for this moment. When his home would become yours. It was strange, he hadn't been home in years, but nothing could pry the pride he felt for the rough yet beautiful island. Maybe that's why he loves you so much, you remind him of home.

Dagur, careful not to tug against your scalp, unwinded the strand from his fingers, raising them to his face.

No matter how long you bathed you still smelled like your herb garden. When he was younger it used to tickle his nose. But now, just a faint whiff of basil made his mind race with you.

Dagur wasn't a humble man. So, he had no difficulty in calling it his greatest gift to you yet. It took months to finish, and it would have taken longer if Dagur hadn't put the fear of Odin into those poor builders.

But oh, did it pay off. The way you wrapped your arms around his neck and thanked him before scurrying away to play with your new collection. The way you were now more than content to spend your days within the safety of your shared home. The way you whispered sweet nothings into his ear as he laid his head in your lap on the lush grass.

It was only right that his final betrothal gift outshone all others.

Dagur's eyes dropped to the many small gold ringlets and more sentimental trinkets Heather had braided and pinned into your hair on your wedding day.

Dagur was almost confident the reason that he could never imagine the wedding itself was because it would be impossible for his unconscious mind to imitate. But this was a blessing enough.

"You're staring" your eyes didn't open, but the smirk in the corner of your mouth struggled not to reach your ear.

"Hard not to" a scoffed laugh breaks your attempt to remain at rest.

You were looking at him now. Only him. Bliss.

He made no attempts to hide the pleased sigh when your hand reached for his face. "Then I'll have to let you do it more often". The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as your fingers lightly combed and scratched the small unshaven stubble across his chin.

The way your eyes glazed over with thoughts of your own left him giddy. Would you like it if he grew it out? He loved the way your eyes roamed over him.

Your interest was apparent when he found you on the reaper. He knew you still loved him. The way your breath would hitch when he leaned in, your face would turn pink when he did anything 'scandalous'.

"You have that stupid smile again. What are you thinking?" You chastise, slowing your movements into long smooth tracings along his jaw.

"...my wife" it was said entirely to himself. A silent reverence at the mere idea.