Set in the timeline of Legends: Darkstalker. Minor blood warning, a kiss mentioned but not fully detailed.
The wind was growling past the window of his room, easily winning the competition between it and the shouts of the frolicking dragonets out in the courtyard. Thunder rolled somewhere off in the distance, and Darkstalker turned, frowning at the black skies outside.
A storm had come upon the Night Kingdom, just as Clearsight had said earlier. He had been considering taking her out for another flight, but although they'd flown in storms before this one seemed like it would be a bit too fierce...
He checked his mental map of visions. Sure enough, the storm was terrible- and if he did take her out-
Oh dear. That future about a broken wing was unlikely, yes, but still...
Darkstalker sighed and marched to the window, grasping the handle and pulling it shut. No flying today, it seemed. With a groan he flopped onto his pile of blankets, then winced when he bent his wing wrong under him. He rolled over and stared at the candle on his desk, the flame flickering meagerly. It was the only one, and he knew it would be better if he lit the candles on the other side of the room, too, but he couldn't find it in himself to get up now that he was comfortable.
He set his head down on his blankets, still staring up at the candle, and pondered what to do. Of course he could keep doing his homework, or find a scroll to read, or write more in his scroll. But he'd done all those so much lately, and they were getting rather boring...
Or, Darkstalker knew, he could revert to his favorite pastime, of looking foward to his visions of him and Clearsight.
He chose the latter option, and closed his eyes, opening up the map of visions again. So many threads, tangling together- but he knew that they weren't half as bad as Clearsight's fascinating tangle of timelines. But he had promised to stay out of her head, despite how intricate they were.
Against his will his mind turned to all the futures where he did look into her mind, where he found out things he did or didn't want to know, where he stopped plots against him or healed her worries, where he brought the world down or crowned them both king and queen and lived to see-
Stop that, he told himself firmly. You told her you wouldn't look.
But oh, it was so tempting!
He grumbled to himself for a moment and then sadly reined his mind in, and looked over the whole of the map once again.
There was the future where they had six dragonets. There was the future where Clearsight betrayed him and went off with Fathom to alert the Icewing tribe he was coming to destroy them. There was the future where they brought Whiteout a bundle of white roses at the wedding between her and Thoughtful, and the roses sprung into vines that dressed her in a gown of shimmering petals.
He wandered among them for a while, before seizing on a new one, one that he hadn't tried before. It was similar to the rest, at first glance, but there was something else, something he couldn't- quite- catch...
Darkstalker was standing on the cliff, the cliff that overlooked the battlefield, where the corpses of Nightwings and Icewings littered the field. He frowned down at the bloodstained ground, then looked over to the path, where a slender black figure stood and met his gaze. Tears glittered in her eyes and on her cheeks, shining softly in the light of the moons.
"Darkstalker?" whispered Clearsight, stepping forwards and joining him at the ledge. Her eyes widened at the sight of a prostrate figure just beneath the cliff's edge, unmarked but clearly dead. "Who was..."
"Assassin," Darkstalker said dismissively. The Icewing hadn't seemed to realize who he was when he'd attacked. Darkstalker didn't mind getting blood on his talons, but he'd found killing with his animus magic could be easier, and surprisingly, more painful. The twisted expression on the dead dragon's face showed that perfectly.
"How-" She stopped and stared at him. "Darkstalker... you didn't-"
"He deserved it," Darkstalker said simply. He knew it wasn't the right answer. He knew it could lead to trouble. But the futures where Clearsight did something about it were slim chances, mere twigs on the tree of the future. "He thought he could kill me. He thought wrong. He died." His massive black shoulders rose and fell in a shrug.
Clearsight looked back at the field and audibly swallowed. Darkstalker opened a wing and wrapped it gently around her. "It's fine," he said softly. "The Icewings are our enemies, so they have to die. And sacrifices have to be made for that. I'm sorry, Clearsight, but this is how we find our path to happiness."
Her tearfilled eyes met his. "But I saw other futures, Darkstalker. I saw better ones. This didn't have to happen."
With a talon Darkstalker grasped her chin gently and turned it, so that she could see the moons. "See those? They gave us our powers for a reason. We're following the right path, Clearsight. It just happens to be a little bloodier than some of the others."
She pulled away, brow wrinked with worry. "But I don't want it to be bloodier, Darkstalker. I want it to be happy for everyone."
Oh, dear. Even if he wasn't trying to read her mind, Darkstalker could still tell that she wasn't happy, that she didn't feel safe with him. How was he to fix that?
Perhaps showing he cared? Maybe a kiss. He took a quick glance into the future again. It seemed like it might work.
There was that one future, but it was so unlikely, so small...
He smiled at her and gently took her talons in his. "Then show me how we can make it that way. I'll listen."
Yes, those were the right words.
She tilted her head at him. "You're sure?"
"Of course I am," he murmured, and dipped his head to hers. "I promise."
Clearsight smiled slightly, but it seemed off- still tainted by sadness, he supposed- and lifted her snout up, pressing it to his. He grinned back and kissed her, pulling her in tight to him, and for a moment they were all warmth and softness and sweet moonlight and black scales. Then Clearsight pulled away, but those tears were still in her eyes, and he frowned because those weren't supposed to be there and what was that at her side, beneath her wing, and why was she reaching for it-
"But you don't keep your promises, Darkstalker," she whispered, and cold steel pressed against his underbelly.
Betrayal swam through his mind, and sadness too, because that tiny future, small as it was, had come to be, and he'd have to make sure she couldn't do it again, because no matter how she tried that dagger couldn't get through his skin-
but she knew that, he'd told her about that enchantment ages ago-
so why would she-
Then heat was spreading down his scales, and he looked down in surprise at the red blood rippling down his chest, tinted silver in the moonlight. A jeweled dagger's handle was sticking out of his black skin.
Darkstalker's mind whirled back. There was only one dragon capable of that, capable of creating a dagger able to do that, capable of-
"Yes," said Clearsight, and he dimly registered the pain in her voice. "He helped. I'm sorry, Darkie, I really am, but this was the only way- the only way-"
"To- what?" he rasped, and felt his legs slide out from under him, falling against the hard stone.
"To stop you from destroying all the tribes, and the future, and killing our descendants, and..."
Her voice faded out, and he stared up at her, seeing her lips move and her eyes shimmer but not hearing what she was saying. That was death, he realized after a moment. Death closing in.
Then Clearsight stopped speaking, and looked down at him, and his vision dimmed and turned black and white, and he closed his eyes as the agony from the dagger finally set in, filling him.
The last thing he knew was the brush of a soft, warm snout against his and the whisper in his ear, no, in his mind, from hers...
Goodbye, my love-
He jerked, panting, breathing hard, heart slamming against his ribcage in a sharp, fast rythm, too fast to be natural, and he shivered, trying to throw off the pervading chill left by the vision. He hadn't been able to pull himself out of the vision, that time- he needed more practice.
It's so cliche- like a fairytale ending, he joked to himself, trying to make light of the possible future. That was a little one, anyways, he reasoned. There was no reason for that future to come. And besides, in that one she'd been able to see the darker futures.
What if he took that?
He checked the futures where that happened, trying to see how that would change it. That... made it much better, actually. The earring was the most genius idea, he could see.
Sharp rain battered the sides of the house in a rat-tat-tat rythm, and lighting flashed outside as Darkstalker pushed himself to his feet and went to his desk, searching it for his scroll.
This is an idea of what would have incited Darkstalker's choice to give Clearsight the earring that prevented her from seeing his darker futures. I haven't read the book in a while- sorry if there's any timeline issues or out-of-character bits. (Which, with Clearsight, proooooobably happened.)