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Raistlin's Return	By : pip Category: A through F > Dragonlance Views: 2380 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the book(s) that this fanfiction is written for, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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- 5
A/N: Well, I have finally finished with these two. Ah, I miss them already. This was never written to be read in chapters, and I’ve discovered I don’t really like posting my work in little bits anyway (even though I love reviews), so here is the rest.
To Petalwing: Thank you so much for all of your encouragement with this. When I read your review I worried that I had written Raistlin a little too evil and heartless, but then no. As much as we all love him, he did kill his own brother several times over. He left Tasslehoff to die in Istar (an even worse crime in my mind, it made me cry). And don’t forget what he did to poor Crysania, as much as I dislike her she didn’t really deserve it. I only hope that this meets with your expectations, especially the ending.
To Chetwynd: Thank you for your comments. As to your questions, the torture in ‘Dalamar’s Return’ would have had a lasting effect on him as far as I am concerned. I think he allowed Raistlin to become a kind of God, to him at least, in order to keep his sanity through the ordeal. It probably wasn’t a conscious decision. Plus, true domination is a very rare thing, and I have no doubt that Raistlin is a rare kind of bloke ;) *g*
As for the spellcasting. Well, since the spell did not work I like to think that Dalamar still has his magic. He doesn’t deserve any of this either really, but to be honest he invited it.
To Corenn: Naughty? Lol, just a little bit. And will Dalamar die? I guess you’re just going to have to read on and find out.
And so, onward…

Chapter Four
“No! Shalafi!” Dalamar sat up in bed with his eyes wide open. The nightmare held him for a few moments longer and then receded, and he realised that he was in someone’s arms. He looked around fearfully, and smiled in relief when he saw Jenna. Concern drew her eyebrows together as she looked at him.
“Well. I came visiting last night only to be told you were busy. And this morning I come, only to find you still in bed at this hour, and dreaming unpleasant things by the look of it.” Dalamar relaxed into Jenna’s arms, allowing himself to take comfort from her. He took her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist as he snuggled closer, and she laughed. But then that worried look returned.
“I didn’t know his return had affected you so badly. Perhaps I should stay with you, lover.” She played with his hair idly as she talked.
“It hasn’t, my dear, but…” Dalamar stopped, wondering if he should tell Jenna of what had passed between he and his Shalafi the day before. Cold fingers clutched at him as he realised that this was another day. He remembered Raistlin’s words: “You will try again tomorrow.” Looking up at Jenna, he felt so alone. He wanted to tell her, but would she understand? Would he understand in her place? Probably not. And he couldn’t risk losing her; the relationship they shared was based on sanity. He decided to hide the truth. “It’s just the war, and this strange weather. It’s driving me a little mad.”
Jenna held him to her warmth. Not burning, not heat, just warmth, and it was heaven. Dalamar closed his eyes thankfully, and for a moment or two he forgot about the day still to come. “I understand,” she said, still stroking his long hair. “This war takes it’s toll on us all – we feel it most of all, being close to the Gods of magic.” Jenna sighed, but then caught her breath in a strangled gasp.
“What is it?” Dalamar asked in alarm. Surely he was not here, not now. And it was a stupid thought, of course he wasn’t. But as he looked up at Jenna again, he realised why she was horrified. In her fingers Jenna held a single, silver hair – his hair, hair that should not be grey for many centuries. Immediately hiding the icy panic that gripped him, Dalamar forced a smile, and leaned in to kiss her. “It affects us the most, you said.” And it seemed to pacify Jenna a little, because she kissed him back…
…………………………………………………
“You hide the truth well, Dalamar. I’m sure that those around you, including my daughter, have no idea what is going on beneath that cool exterior.” Justarius turned to regard Dalamar intently as they walked.
“Very perceptive,” Dalamar admitted with a slight smile, then his eyes became cold. “But I do not believe it is really any of your business, old man.” He looked away to stare at the trees which grew in the courtyard. Gods! A conversation like this with Jenna’s father was the last thing he needed. Dalamar hoped that he had enough patience in him to listen to the coming lecture. He had visited Wayreth to discuss the war, and instead he was about to be talked down to by someone half his age. Dalamar sighed inwardly.
“Indeed. Even when you cause arguments between the Gods themselves? At this juncture?”
Dalamar looked up in alarm, having expected something else entirely. He paled a little – the spell had nearly worked.
“Yes… Did you know how close you were to succeeding?” Justarius asked. Then he sighed, “I do not meddle in your private affairs, Dalamar. The Gods know I have enough to occupy me with the Chaos War, and I have no doubts that Jenna can look after herself.” He shook his head, and Dalamar noticed for the first time how tired Justarius seemed as he continued talking. “There is a good chance we will fail. But we must all be aware of the danger, should he regain his former power.”
Suddenly Dalamar was angry. These people still knew next to nothing about Raistlin, about the way he could manipulate and control. Despite their fears and their words, it was still the same; they simply did not understand what he was capable of, the lengths he would go to for what he wanted. “Do you think you need to tell me this?” Dalamar closed his eyes briefly. Raistlin was as single-minded about regaining magic as he was about his darker ambitions so long ago. He remembered being envious of that determination, and he realised with a shock that he still was. “Believe me, I know…” Dalamar’s voice trailed off as the true significance struck him. Arguments between the Gods? Someone was on Raistlin’s side. He sighed desperately, another thing he would have to try and hide from his Shalafi. “I know,” he said miserably.
Justarius stopped walking and faced Dalamar. He looked a little uncomfortable as he rested his hands on Dalamar’s shoulders. “Look, I don’t know exactly what is happening, and I’m not pleased.” Justarius frowned, but then shrugged, “But if it means anything, I don’t envy you your position.”
Dalamar laughed bitterly. “Who would?” he asked rhetorically. Then he smiled, with a little of his former warmth.
“What is it?” Justarius asked, frowning again.
“You become more and more like Par-Salian with every year, friend.” Justarius laughed, and for a moment Dalamar forgot what awaited him when he wished himself back to Palanthas. He looked around at the peaceful garden; maybe he should spend half an hour here.
…………………………………………
“There you are, Dalamar. I was beginning to think I would have to seek you out. That would not have been good for you.” Once more, Dalamar was in the study, facing his Shalafi. But although he shivered at the way Raistlin greeted him, and although he feared the certain consequences, he did not falter when he spoke.
“I will not do this, Shalafi.” And Dalamar meant the words. Nothing could induce him to give more of his life to this, to him. The time he had spent with Jenna earlier, and the time he had spent in contemplation had restored him to sanity, to himself. He was not weak. But now, it was Raistlin’s turn to speak.
He regarded Dalamar with clear amusement. “No?” he asked mockingly. “You will do anything for me, apprentice. All I need to do is remind you of your reasons.” The light tone disappeared from Raistlin’s voice, and he indicated the chair in front of the desk. “Sit down.”
The command was almost too much to resist, and he had to stop himself from following it. He had never openly defied his Shalafi, and the experience was new. Dalamar took a deep breath, “I will not.”
Raistlin’s eyes flashed dangerously at the challenge. “You will obey me, or we will do this with the assistance of the guardians.” And then Dalamar knew he had made a terrible mistake by coming here, by attempting this open rebellion. He remembered the first real taste of cruelty at his Shalafi’s hands, and he knew it was no idle threat. He could not allow them to see this, his humiliation. With as much dignity and grace as he could muster, Dalamar complied.
“That’s better. I always get what I want, you know this. There is no point in resistance.” Dalamar wanted to scream at that calm assurance. He knew what awaited him, and a hopeless despair began to settle in. How many years would he lose before this was over, how much of his precious life would Raistlin demand?
Raistlin came to stand beside the chair, and he grasped hold of Dalamar’s chin, forcing him to look up into those deadly eyes. In desperation, Dalamar gave himself to the self-destructive fascination – anything to forget for another moment the things Raistlin expected of him. “Besides, defiance does not suit you, Dalamar. I have become used to your subservience and submission.” He paused for a second. “Indeed, I find I begin to enjoy it,” he said thoughtfully.
Dalamar jumped suddenly when the book was placed in front of him again. “Now, you will read again, apprentice.” He did not touch the spell book, but stared at it fearfully. A hand pulled at his hair, forcing him to look up again, and although he wanted to look away from Raistlin, he couldn’t escape his gaze. He shuddered at the anger he saw there. “Do you need some encouragement?” he asked, his voice hinting at earlier tortures, and it was too much for Dalamar.
“No, Shalafi,” he replied instantly. And he breathed thankfully when Raistlin let him go. He turned to the book and began to read.
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Raistlin's Return