Work Text:
Rosamun watches Caramon thrash and writhe in the depths of his nightmare, a scream ready to tear out of his throat. His dream is a quagmire of blood and the ghosts of the soldiers he slew in battle, and his hands are stained red with the deed. Worse are the phantom taunts of his twin brother, interspersed with the groans of the soldiers, which cut like ice. Caramon is only realizing now how disposable he is to Raistlin, and his heart cannot bear it.
Almost.
In his heart’s pain, he is beginning to understand that he can think for himself and not blindly follow his twin to the ends of the world. That he must let go of his childhood memories and accept that his differences with Raistlin are too great, and they will never fight side by side as they used to.
Rosamun considers comforting him but does not. Caramon has always been stronger than his twin, stronger in body and spirit. He has a warrior’s heart and the will to keep fighting. As painful as it is, this is a nightmare he can overcome on his own.
He is not destined for darkness like she and Raistlin are.
