#a certain Druid kisses them when he’s sad
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Star-kissed Elf
I wanted to do a quick drawing with my headcannon of Astarion having star-shaped freckles and it ended up like this
I really love how it turned out
#artists on tumblr#baldur's gate 3#baldur's gate iii#astarion#astarion fanart#the pale elf#his freckles look like tiny stars#that’s why his parents called him little star#yes he has freckles#and you can’t stop me#a certain Druid kisses them when he’s sad#I’m real proud of this one
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Tavuary weekly prompt 1: Fluff
I’m sure camp is a favourite place for many of us, but it is legitimately the best part of the game for me. The wild and untamed boost of ace serotonin I get from tucking the party in for the night and giving them all forehead kisses... I have to force myself not to long rest more than necessary.
Title: All Is Well
Characters: Gale, Lae'zel, Shadowheart, Astarion, Scratch, Tav
Rating: T
Summary: Just a druid dad doing his best to take care of this found family.
All Is Well
Finally, another long day has come to an end. Camp has gone quiet in that way it tends to do when fatigue is about to win out over the hunger, petty squabbles, and inventory management. It’s time to tuck everyone in before your long rest.
You start with Gale. Maybe it’s cheating to get the bedtime story first, but he’s so good at telling them. It always makes you smile. Is he for real? It doesn’t matter. Sometimes finding joy in what’s on the surface is safe. You know his secret, and you have an agreement about it. Just like your agreement with Lae’zel to murder each other if you start to turn.
She’s next, giving you a curt nod as you walk over. That leather undergarment is something. She’s something. You want to tell her how impressed you are with all the progress she’s made in the short time you’ve known one another. Is she young for a Githyanki? You have no damn clue. But she feels like a new recruit somehow. You want to give her the space respect demands, but you also want to support her when she lets you. It happens now and then. The two of you have made progress.
“Greetings.” A lot of progress.
“Just coming by to say goodnight,” you tell her. “I’d say sweet dreams, but I feel like you’ll just curse at me in Gith.”
She does. “K’chakhi.” But there’s a certain quirk to her lips. Maybe it’s just you, but her insults sound more affectionate than they used to.
You chuckle. “See you in the morning.”
“Not if I see you first, istik.”
You walk away smiling. Ignore Astarion, as he stands outside his tent, poised like an actor about to monologue, pretending to read. There will be no sweet good night there.
You have an agreement with him, too, but it’s a sinister, one-sided one. You know you’re being used, but it’s the only thing he’ll accept from you right now. Will it be enough to facilitate a change later? Is change even possible for someone like him?
You’re ready to do what is necessary if he shows his true colors or harms the others. For now, you’ve agreed to watch one another’s backs, and you think he might be considering loosely holding up his end of the bargain. That has to be enough for now. But he gets no good night. You feel sure he’d just reply with a snarky retort anyway.
Finally, you’re here. And you just watch Shadowheart praying quietly for a few moments. She looks up and sees you before you make yourself known. “Lady of Sorrows guide us. Did you want something?” There’s always this sadness that lingers in the air around her, but right now, it’s more concentrated. Like a dart fired into the shield of devotion with which she guards her heart.
“You alright?” you ask softly.
“What a strange thing to ask.” She stands and turns her back to you, pretending to look out at the horizon. Her tone is clearly an imitation of someone else. Perhaps that Mother Superior she’s told you about. Someone cold and uncaring. But it’s not her.
“Is it?” You move up to stand behind her. Just out of arm’s reach, you feel it before you see it. Tears like starlight slipping down her cheeks. “Oh, kitten. I’m sorry.”
You never know what to say to her. Nothing is ever quite right. And words are never enough. So you move close and rest your chin on top of her head, careful not to touch her with any other part of you. This is your secret language, just the two of you. How you ask permission.
“I don’t know–!” Her voice cuts off, her shoulders trembling. You gently wrap your arms around her, and just stand quietly as she cries. Like a comforting tree bearing silent witness. Eventually, she turns toward you and rests her head against your chest. She never returns the embrace, and that’s perfectly okay.
Times like this, it’s hard for you, too. Hard not to think about the little girl who will never grow into a woman. How much this woman, trying so hard to hide the little girl inside her, reminds you of your own daughter. Maybe the stoic tree lets slip a tear, too.
“I’m so proud of you,” you tell her softly. “You’re doing so well. Better and better every day.”
This summons forth more tears. The clerics of Shar are not big on positive reinforcement, you guess.
“Thank you,” she says at last, when the tears have finally subsided. Shadowheart steps back, and it’s over, her autonomy restored. She stands on her own again.
“Any time,” you tell her warmly. And grin. “Don’t tell the others, but you know...you’re my favourite.”
It startles a half smile from her. “You’re the only one I trust, so I suppose you’re mine, too.”
“Sleep tight,” you tell her with a little wave. “Don’t let the–er. Well. If he does, make sure it’s consensual.”
“I’d sooner kill him.”
“That’s my girl.” The ghost of a smile remains as you walk back to the campfire, feeling more tired with every step.
“Were you two talking about me again? I feel like you were.” Silent feet fall into step beside you. “You know I can always tell.”
“Would you just fuck off?” So much for savoring a moment. His pervasive anxiety is toxic and contagious. Of course he listens to everything everyone says, always. Surrounded by shadows, this one, mind and body.
“Honestly, darling, you’re not quite my type.”
“Go to bed, Astarion.”
“I thought that’s what we were attempting to arrange. Or you were. As I said, I’m not much interested in the big, muscley, goody-goody type.” He waves a hand in your direction, gesturing idly at ‘all that.’
“Go sleep on your own bedroll. Alone. Please.” He gets under your skin too easily. You don’t mean to speak so harshly, but you always do. Take a deep breath. “When you’re ready. Obviously, I’m not telling you what to do.”
“Bloody well right you’re not!” He looks down his nose at you the way he always looks down his nose at you (which is a neat trick, considering he’s almost a foot shorter than you are). That effortless air of superiority mixed with naked disgust. His sickly sweet tone drifts back to you over his shoulder as he slinks away: “Sweet dreams~”
You bite back the urge to tell him to fuck off again. “Behave.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, darling.”
You know deep in your gut, you’re going to have to kill him eventually. But not today. Please, gods. Can you just rest, just this once?
You must have been more tired than you thought. When you open your eyes, everyone else is sound asleep, gathered around the fire. You have that dizzy feeling that means your nightly offering has been accepted. Glance over and see him resting silently with the others. It’s the only time he looks remotely at peace.
At the edge of the firelight, Scratch looks out watchfully at the darkness. You call for him in a language he understands, and he pads over to lie down, his comforting bulk leaning against you. You push your fingers into his soft, white fur and slip into a blissfully dreamless sleep.
#bg3#tavuary#fanfiction#just a drood dude#cozy dad vibes#hugs for party members who need them#fuck off astarion#my sweet baby girl shart#let's go lae'zel#gale is my favorite eccentric grandpa#scratch is goodest boy
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WIP...Wednesday
I mentioned my hibernation fic the other day, so I decided to share a bit of it for WIP Wednesday. :D
He smiled as he bent to kiss her. She is perfect. She fills my heart with such joy. “I was feeling tired.”
“Again?” Her voice was tinged with worry.
Pulling up his chair next to hers, he sighed. “Yes, but I think I know what it is.” She offered an encouraging nod, and he continued. “Every so often, the bear needs to hibernate. It’s getting to be that time.” He watched as she put a slip of paper inside her book and closed it.
“How long?”
“It can range from a week to three months. It’s never the same, and I won’t know for long I’ve been hibernating until I wake.” She’s going to ask if she can come with me. Oh Annie, please…
As she serious as he had ever seen her, she asked, “Can I come with you?”
He sandwiched one of her hands in his as he shook his head. “No. It’s far too dangerous. Best to stay here and—” Please don’t fight me on this. It’s too dangerous. Far, far too dangerous.
Anais smiled sadly. “Carry on as best I can.”
The two sat in silence for a few moments before he spoke again. “I will write to your mother, Nadia, and Astarion to see if any of them would like to be with you while I’m gone. Or perhaps Gale could make the trip from Waterdeep. Or Shadowheart and her parents?” I would also suggest Wyll and Karlach, but alas, they cannot return from Avernus, and gods know where Lae’zel is.
Her other hand now rested on the top of his. “Oh no, please. I don’t want to be a bother. Besides, I’m not alone when I have Scratch, Horace, and Obie here. And there’s also everyone in town. I’ll be okay.” She reassured him with a kiss on his cheek.
Their foreheads touched as he closed his eyes. I don’t want you to feel alone. I want you to be surrounded by love and care while I hibernate. It will make my sleep much more peaceful. “Since we have coupled, we have not spent one night apart. I worry if my hibernation lasts more than a week or two you will be lonely, my heart.” And it breaks my heart to see you sad.
She wrinkled her nose and gave him a quick peck. “Oh, I’ll be alright. Don’t worry about me.” Impossible, dearest one. “Is there anything else we need to do before you, I assume, go into a cave and sleep?”
Halsin chuckled heartily. “Yes! I’ll start scouting for one tomorrow. There is something else, Annie. I need to put on some weight.”
Anais raised an eyebrow. “How much?”
“Usually between forty to sixty pounds. Though,” he remembered a specific hibernation, soon after the Shadow Curse took hold. “There was one time I barely put on forty pounds, and it was…erm, not a pleasant experience. So please forgive me if I eat us out of house and home for the next several weeks.” Upon hearing her laugh, he shook his head. “You’re taking this remarkably well, my heart.”
She waved a dismissive hand with a grin. “To be honest, when you pass a certain point, some things are just filed under ‘strange but interesting druid things.’ This happens to be one of them.”
#annie wildheart#anais wildheart#halsin#halsin silverbough#bg3 halsin#wip wednesday#plus size tav#sorcerer tav#bear goes to sleep time#strange but interesting druid things
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Pick two for Grimmie, Akrius, Mags, and Captain Lal
Haha!! two down! Next one will be the one with *only* NPCs from the prequel campaign, so stay tuned.
Grimhilda “Grimmie”(bugbear Rouge Thief/ College of Glamor Bard)
37. if they’ve had one, what was their first kiss like?
The real first kiss is kind of a boring answer, it was some other bugbear that found her after she fled Overton’s and tried to find a community. The kiss itself was forceful and honestly disappointing. The guy was a massive dick, but Grimmie had never met another bugbear her own age, so she just sorta… let it happen.
She didn’t have the knowledge to recognize that in traditional Bugbear culture a bugbear being completely on their own was a HUGE red flag. The stereotype is that bugbears were exiled from their home dens for being too weak, but in reality more often it was actually the result of extreme antisocial behavior. He likely IDd her as a good potential mate because she was petite(for a bugbear, at least) and obviously raised outside of their culture, so he thought she would be easy to control. Thankfully she was having none of it and fled when he first started getting physically aggressive with her.
The sad fact is though that this started off a trend of bad first kisses in Grimmie’s life. There was a pattern where the mild-mannered nature that she had in her younger years attracted people who would push themselves onto her.
33. what artistic medium are they most drawn to?
Grimmie is a trained dancer, which she gets her bard powers from, and despite the fact that she learned the skill basically being an enslaved entertainer, it’s a talent she takes pride in and enjoys. It taught her the control and coordination that made her even more of a natural thief. She always loved showing it off and the spark it gave her.
She loved it up until the fall-out with her Ex and certain events(which I will probably go into soon) that lead up to that fallout. Dancing started to make her feel dirty. Something to be used and gawked at. She stopped dancing and most of her magic faded.
It’s only recently that she’s starting to remember why she loved to do it and getting that spark back.
Magroris ‘’Mags’’ Lochwood (Firbolg Wildfire Druid)
22. how would they decorate their living space, if they had a chance?
Mags loves bright colors. Especially reds. Her room was an absolutely explosion of color compared to the earth tones in the rest of the village. Also animal motifs. On. Everything. There is nothing animals shaped that she will not buy, she just adores them.
35. when did they feel loneliest?
That had to be right after she left home. She had absolutely no one and left without so much as a note. She’s always been a highly social person who had a lot of friends growing up.
To suddenly just leave that all behind and be totally alone, wandering for about 5 months was intensely lonely and emotionally destructive for her.
Akrius Blackwater (Tiefling Warlock, currently trapped in the body of a human child)
28. do they collect anything?
Yes, actually! Akrius collects books and had an impressive collection back at the blackwater estate. While he is academically gifted and has plenty of books on magic, science, language, etcetera, unlike someone like his teammate Khalida, that’s not really where his enthusiasm lies. He considers being well-versed in different subjects a practicality, not a passion.
The REAL lovingly cultivated collection among his books is his assortment of action/adventure novels. Being stuck inside without any other children to interact with, he poured his spare time into these books and is extremely well-versed in the entire genre (He also has a secret collection guilty-pleasure of romance novels, including teeth-rottingly adorable romance mangas)
9. when in their life were they most scared?
It’s probably a tie between when he was 15 and on the run from his parents after first making his pact and, honestly, what’s going on right now.
At 15 he was completely alone, barely surviving and having to find the will to keep moving knowing it was only delaying the inevitability of his mother finding him. Staring down a future of being trapped in a nightmare.
Now, realizing that he’s only a discarded portion of the person he assumed he was, he has no idea what he’s doing. He’s just totally adrift. Even though he hated the reason he was alive and knew his purpose was a horrible one, there was a degree of certainty in it. Now he’s just left with everything he’s ever had to do haunting him, knowing that it was pointless. He’s staring down the abyss once again
Captain Lal (Hobgoblin Conquest Paladin/Fighter)
16. do they value their appearance?
Yes and no. She maintains her physique and keeps herself clean and put together because she sees it as her duty to properly represent her position.
That said, she is usually considered to be attractive both in and out of goblinoid culture. She is aware of this fact but generally finds it irksome. She could appreciate it from someone she was interested in, but otherwise finds that it doesn’t help her in being taken seriously for her position or accomplishments.
So she’ll keep herself together but doesn’t invest much effort in being visually flashy.
23. in what moment did they consider themselves to be “grown up”?
Sadly, she probably considered herself “grown up” when she was taken in by her surrogate father at about 7. He loved her very much and wanted to do right by her, but he was a career military man with very little experience bringing up a child. She picked up a lot of the household chores, learned to cook, and figured out how to take care of both herself and her adoptive father.
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ME AT THE LAST 2 VOX MACHINA EPISODES
listen I just have to write out my feelings. spoilers, obviously
God I’m so happy Pike is back, she brings such (no pun intended) light to the party. also, she’s a fucking bruiser?!?!? I had no idea clerics kicked so much ass holy shit. when she was fighting delilah and went “my turn” mWUAH chef’s kiss I love you ma’am marry me
KEYLETH MY BELOVED. as soon as Gilmore mentioned that a bright ass sun was needed to kill vampires I KNEW it was my girl’s time to shine!! that spell looked so cool!
straight up did not expect her to take that bullet for vex but damn holy shit. like, I’m fairly certain they all live until at least the last part of the campaign but it is still painful in the moment. yes I have read the spoilers about [redacted] but I don’t know ALL the specifics let me live in peace
didn’t realize non-druids could use plant magic??? is this bending the rules a bit?? not like I care if it is lmao, it was a sweet moment. I also thought it was cool to show how scanlan’s bard magic can actually work, as that’s the most unclear to me as a class
speaking of that, when scanlan was able to keep bigsby’s hand up for longer by playing heavy metal? hilarious. no idea how the mechanics actually played out in the original campaign but I can’t help but imagine it was bending the rules a bit but the DM essentially went “I’ll allow it because it's sick”
special shout out to the animators these last 3 episodes because HOLY SHIT. that pike/sylas fight??? the FIRE DEMON??? my jaw was on the FLOOR y’all
speaking of fire demon HOLY SHIT EVERYTHING ABOUT THAT. percy trying to kill himself to protect his friends....”darling, take the mask off” [cut to percy openingly sobbing through the control because he doesn’t want to hurt vex]...when all their names kept appearing on the barrels...him SHOOTING HIS OWN HAND OFF? (ngl it’s not clear in my mind if that’s what helped him break the demon’s control or just him refusing to follow through with the revenge...?) goddamn this sad fancy boy has got me good. I LOVE him
also, ngl I cheered when cassandra killed delilah. like thank fuck THAT loose end won’t be back to bite them later (I hope???? with necromancers who tf knows)
Keyleth having a crush on both twins? delightful, exquisite, I will eat this up with a fucking spoon. mostly because how could she not? same boat over here.
for the last minute of the show I literally sat there with my hand over my mouth like a dramatic cartoon
FOUR DRAGONS??!??! FOUR??!!!? they could BARELY deal with one, they’re all gonna fucking die
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Story title ideas;
A Taste of Something Sweet
Between The Branches In The Forest
The First Ever Sighting of Love
Silk Flowers
Fragments
A Very Crooked Painting
Oooooo lemme see what I can do with these
Send me a title for a fic and I’ll tell you what kind of fic I’d write for it
A Taste of Something Sweet | Genre: Romance | Summary: You're a confectioner, he's an executive chef, and anyone visiting you both is bound to have the meal of a lifetime, but things before weren't as sweet as they are now. No, back when you were both in culinary school, what a time that was. Anyone who saw you now would think: 'ah, I'm sure they were rather close before they started dating.' And they would justify with the sweet gestures and the innocent spoonfuls of each other's recent creations. However, they would've never realized that you and Kun were actually bitter rivals, and it all started when he bumped into your station and spilled boiling sugar all over the place.
Between the Branches in the Forest | Genre: Romance, Fantasy | Summary: 'Don't go in the woods.' That's what your parents always told you, but you being the ripe age of eight and not giving a shit about your safety went anyway and it was through that daring choice that you met him, a boy that seemed to be one with nature himself. Years passed, but your escapades never ceased and he was truly glad for that, the boy who's heart you seemed to have captured entirely. It was during one of these recent adventures of yours where you'd both realized, ah, I'm in love. Captured in a kiss with flowers in bloom around you and trees twisting, everything felt so right with the druid who called himself Hendery.
The First Ever Sighting of Love | Genre: Romance | Summary: Many people often say that you cross paths with your soulmate five times in your lifetime and it will only be in one of ten thousand lifetimes where you properly meet. Soulmates, you didn't really believe in them, sure, you'd find two people who completed each other so perfectly that you couldn't help but be jealous, but you hardly thought that you'd ever be in their position especially as university kicks up and work begins to swarm you. It was a chance encounter, one that you actually quite regret, after all, how the hell do you make up almost running someone over with your car? A coffee? Don't make him laugh. This is a story about the five times you ran into Taeyong, and the one time he stayed.
Silk Flowers | Genre: Angst | You'd been going to the same tailor for years. Since you were a young child, your mother only gave you the best, and that happened to come from Nakamoto's Emporium. They were such kindly people, and they were a family that grew close to yours. With a boy of their own, around the same age as you, you were never bored while waiting for your newest addition to your wardrobe. Sure, you were both from different economic backgrounds, such was clear from your pristine shoes and his dirtied loafers, but it never stopped the friendship. Soon, Yuta was making your dresses in his mother's stead, and he was okay with this, until the day he inevitably had to make your wedding dress adorned with the flowers he first teased you with now mocking him to no end as you enter with your arm looped around a certain Johnny Suh's.
Fragments | Genre: Romance, Angst | Summary: For years, you'd been juggling lapses in your memory. Things you couldn't remember that seemed to haunt you regardless. Now, in a new town with new people, you're hoping for a fresh start. Hopefully, you could make new memories to overlap the older ones. Although, it's sad. It's sad you couldn't remember the face of the person who held you so close and whispered loving things. Although, that neighbor of yours, what was his name again? Ah, Dejun! Right, for some reason whenever he speaks to you you feel that same fluttering feeling in your chest that came with the lapses of the unknown lover. But, suddenly, a surprise visit from someone named Jaehyun who claims to know you and has picture evidence to back it up throws what you thought was the truth into disarray.
A Very Crooked Painting | Genre: Romantic Comedy | Summary: You were never one for art, truth be told. It's just colors on canvas, right? What more was there to it? But, when your friend begs you to come with them to a public art gallery, you figure why not? You peruse the aisles and stare at the canvases each displaying different subjects, yet for some reason one sticks out to you. It is what looks like the base of a bust subject. A body shoulders up with no features, simply empty and, most notably, the frame is crooked. Looking around, you fix the frame, and, immediately, someone reaches behind you and puts it back, saying some weird thing about how it's part of the message. You didn't get it, and Ten could tell, but he was more than willing to hold your hand throughout the world of art.
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Title: A Wedding Minus One
Summary: A great day has finally arrived, the true end to the war between humans and elves, the wedding between Elf King Kyle and human Shield maiden Wendy. It is a glorious occasion, for all but the bride, groom, and best man.
Rating: T for language
Ships: Stendyle
Other: I wrote this in 2018, enjoy.
AO3 link
~~~~~
Bebe narrowed her eyes, standing in the doorway. "You need to leave," She ordered. "The groom can't see the bride before she walks down the aisle. It's bad luck."
"That's a human thing. I don't believe in that," The elf king commented as he tried to slip past her, to no avail. King Kyle set his jaw and met Bebe's eyes. He shirked back. Both she and Kyle knew if she wanted, she could physically remove him with ease.
Kyle took a breath. "I just need to ask her something. Bebe, please." He hated that he had to resort to begging, but this was an important matter. Bebe eyed him up and down a moment then rolled her eyes.
"You're lucky I like watching you from behind." She took a step inside the room, allowing Kyle inside. Her gaze lingered on his rear a moment, then she grabbed hold of his shoulder in an iron grip. He nearly stumbled backwards with the force of his sudden stop.
"If you so much as get one hair out of place, the elves will need a new king for a few months--got it?"
Kyle nodded stiffly. It took much of his resolve not to hastily scurry away from her farther into the room. Confident with her threat, Bebe took her leave. She shut the door, but her shadow remained to block some of the light from the bottom. She didn't expect him to stay there long.
A giggle torn his thoughts away from Bebe. He turned and his eyes went wide.
Wendy sat at a vanity, hands resting in her lap. She wore a pale cream colored dress that hugged her torso before billowing out into a long train at the hips. A knit shall with baby blue accent draped across her shoulders and a chainmail belt with small multicolored stones attached between the chain links across her waist.
Kyle forced his mouth shut and swallowed hard.
"You look beautiful," He said, walking over to her.
She flashed him a smile. "You look quite handsome as well. So that is the marriage robe your mother when on and on about." Wendy gestured to the green and gold robe. She reached out and ran a finger along the delicate stitching embroidered on the sleeves.
"It's stuffy, and doesn't have pockets," Kyle replied dryly.
"There are other places to hold your things, besides your pockets." Wendy reached down the front her dress and produced a small, worn throwing knife. Seeing the shock on Kyle's face, she quickly added, "It's my something borrowed. I'm borrowing it from Heidi."
Kyle pulled at his over sized sleeves, tugging them so they covered most of his fingers. "You...don't have any more hidden about do you?"
"I think that's something you'll just have to find out after the wedding," She teased. Kyle tried to smile, but it was strained. Wendy saw this and heaved a sigh.
Placing the knife back inside her dress, she asked, "How's Stan? You're the first person Bebe's let in all day."
Kyle shook his head. "I don't know. I haven't seen him since this morning at breakfast--and even then I was preoccupied with Mom fussing and Dad forcing me to go over my vows again. I barely had time to talk to him." Kyle crossed his arms then rested against the vanity.
A wedding is a joyous occasion, especially a royal wedding. The one between the duke and duchess of the Northern Elf kingdom caused celebrations that lasted for nearly a week afterward, even among those who did not hold any connections to the Northern Elf Kingdom. Kyle could clearly recall the tears in Prince Ike's eyes as he watched the duchess march down the aisle. He wondered if Ike would cry when Wendy walked past him the same way.
A sigh escaped his lips. Weddings were supposed to be joyous, and for much of the kingdoms, that was true of this one as well. Kyle and Wendy's holy union would mark the first time in more than a thousand years that one with no elf blood would sit upon the throne. Many believed this wedding would be counted as the true end of the war between elves and humans.
For the most part, Wendy and Kyle kept up appearances. They walked close, hand in hand. They would whisper in each other's ears and smile and laugh. They pressed kisses onto the other's cheeks and lips. From the outside, it would have been impossible to tell the sadness this wedding brought them.
Wendy glanced up at Kyle. "Lean down," She ordered. Kyle did so and Wendy pushed back some of his curly red hair from his face. She smiled, cupping his cheeks. "We need to keep smiling. Remember, this was Stan's idea. He suggested it. As far as I am concerned, no matter who has whose ring on whose finger, this wedding is between all of us."
Kyle placed his hand over hers. "I know. I just wish it didn't have to be like this," He muttered. He pressed his lips against the heel of her palm. Wendy's palms were calloused from her training as a shieldmaiden. There had been some attempts in recent weeks to smooth out her palms, but it seemed to little avail.
She leaned forward and rested her forehead against his. "Me too. Me too." They stayed like that a moment, eyes shut, before Kyle stood back up.
"I need to get back before Mom starts to worry that I got cold feet." He walked towards the door but paused a moment and sent Wendy one last smile. "I love you."
"I love you too." She returned the grin with one of her own. "And we both love Stan."
"Yes," Kyle sighed, "we do."
~~~~~~~
The best man paced back around the fountain. Stan knew he was supposed to be helping in the main hall. He should be there greeting guests in Kyle's place as courtiers and nobles from around Zaron ushered themselves in for the biggest wedding in decades. He should be checking on Kyle, making sure the king had everything he would need for the ceremony. He should be doing a lot of things, but he couldn't.
Stan had tried to do what was expected of him as both Royal Guard to the Elf King and as best man. He really did, but he just couldn't. Yes, the wedding had been his idea in the first place, but now that it was upon them, his chest couldn't stop aching.
He groaned then slumped down against the fountain. He stared up at the sky and watched the clouds float idly by. It was almost noon, almost time for the ceremony. Almost time to see the loves of his life be bound together by the highest holy man the humans had then turn around and be blessed by the highest druid among elves. And he would just be standing by, praying he was able to be tied together with them.
A hand fell firmly on Stan's shoulder and he jumped, nearly drawing his sword.
King Douchebag crouched beside him, a puzzled look on his face.
"You're majesty!" Stan gasped. He nearly scrambled up to properly bow, but King Douchebag's hand kept him in place. The King dropped his hand after a moment then sat down on the edge of the fountain.
Stan relaxed after a heartbeat. It was hard to stay tense around King Douchebag. He had an air around him that lent itself to soothing anger and fostering friendships. Stan pushed himself up so he was sitting with his back pressed against the side of the fountain. He and the king stayed like that for a time, watching the clouds and listening to the water in the fountain. They were just far enough away from the main hall that much of the noise of the wedding guests was lost.
Though his heart still ached, Stan felt the pressing thoughts in his head quiet.
This wedding was for the best. A human--and probably halfling eventually--on the elf throne would bring the kingdoms together after the war. Wendy would make an amazing queen. She was smart and caring and her skills on battle had more than proven her valor. A strong presence like hers beside Kyle would quickly quell any ideas of an uprising.
Even then, it's not as though Kyle or Wendy would leave him forever. It had been a tad ironic, looking back. Before Stan and Wendy were the most open about their relationship with each other, as there had been no reason for them to hide it. Stan did not come from a particularly noble family. It had only been his father's friendship with the previous reigning king that allowed him to gain the ranks he did. Given all that, Stan attempting to court and woo a human was barely given a passing glance by most people.
It had been his and Kyle's relationship that he had to be most careful about. If certain people found out that the Elf King was courting not only someone so low on nobility as Stan, but someone who wouldn't be able to bear an heir, Kyle could have been outed from the throne and his younger brother, Prince Ike, placed upon it instead.
But for the last year or so, he had to act like he didn't care deeply for either of them as they were openly touchy and romantic with each other. For a month or so last winter, he had been so sure that they really were going to leave him for each other, he had nearly fallen back into his drinking habit again. He remembered when he finally worked up the courage to tell him what he was feeling about it. They both went out of their way to do small, almost unnoticeable, gestures towards him to make him feel included.
"Oh, there you are, your majesty."
Stan was pulled from his revery by the Wizard King Cartman. Cartman eyed Stan before turning his attention to King Douchebag fully. "The Ceremony is starting soon and I noticed you weren't in your seat. I thought perhaps you had finally see the err in this union, but I suppose I'm wrong."
Stan glared. "There is no 'err' when people love each other. Not that you would know about that."
Had it been any other royalty, Stan would have held his tongue, but he lost the little respect he had for Cartman when he had gone out of his way to object the wedding and try to stop it. Wendy, Kyle, and Stan even had a running bet going over the real reason Cartman was so against it. Wendy bet that Cartman was jealous and she was positive he held some sort of affections towards Kyle; Stan bet it was just Cartman's prejudices against any nonhuman being rearing its head while Kyle claimed it had to because Cartman just couldn't stand to see Kyle happy.
Cartman returned Stan's glare. "At least the love of my life wasn't stolen away from me by someone I considered a friend." Cartman's face twisted up in a sneer. Before Stan could do something he would regret, King Douchebag stepped between him and Cartman. He frowned at Cartman and met his gaze with a stern look. Cartman chewed his lip a moment then back down.
"The wedding is soon. You should get to your seat," He grumbled as he turned and marched back towards the main hall. King Douchebag shook his head then sent a sympathetic smile towards Stan.
"Thank you, King Douchebag," Stan gave a small bow. "Please, let me escort you to your seat."
~~~~~~~~
"Bebe, it's fine!" Wendy rolled her eyes as Bebe fussed over her dress.
"This is my best friend's wedding, and I am damn sure you're going to look perfect!" Bebe snapped her fingers. "Annie, the satchel." Bebe took the satchel of potpourri from Annie and fixed it to Wendy's belt. The smell of flowers wafted around them as she did so.
Finally, Bebe stood. She clasped her hands together.
"Oh, Annie, can you believe it? One day your fighting side by side against an army of the undead with a girl and the next you're getting ready to walk her down the aisle and let her marry the finest piece of ass you've ever seen." Bebe covered her mouth with her hands. "I think I'm gonna cry." She leaned against Annie, who already had tears in her eyes.
"Don't you dare!" Wendy ordered. "If you cry, I know I will, too, and all the effort you put into this makeup will be for nothing."
"Oh my God, you're right." Bebe took a deep breath. She fanned herself with her hands. "I'm alright. I'm just so happy for you."
"We all are," Annie chimed in. "To think a girl from our tribe would be marrying a king." Wendy laughed, but it was half-hearted. Annie frowned, about to comment, when a knocking came from the door.
Bebe groaned as she marched over. "I swear if it's Kyle again I'm not letting him in. He can ogle my handiwork from the alter!" She pulled open the door. "Oh, it's you. What do you want?"
"Greetings, Ms. Stevens," Stan's voice carried from the door. "The wedding is starting in a few minutes, and I'm here to escort the bride to the main hall."
"What? Why?" Bebe asked.
"It's a tradition among elves that the best man ensures the bride makes it to the wedding room."
"Why? Do Elf women die on the way there or something?"
"Kidnapped, actually."
Bebe just shook her head. She turned on her heels and allowed Stan to come inside. "Come on, Annie. Let's get to our places." Annie hurried over and followed Bebe out the door.
Stan and Wendy stood five steps from each other. He had seen Wendy in her wedding gown before, but she was no less breathtaking than before. He swallowed. He felt he should say something, but couldn't think of anything. So instead, Stan ran his thumb over the inlaid mother of pearl on his sword.
"Does that really happen?" Wendy broke the silence. "The kidnapping thing?"
"Yeah, it used to happen a lot. If you didn't like someone, you kidnapped the bride. It's not commonplace any more but," Stan took two steps, "I wanted to see you before the ceremony. You look amazing."
"Thank you." Wendy closed the gap between them. She rested her hands against his chest. She sighed. "Stan, are you sure you are going to be alright with this. Bebe said she had a plan that would 'postpone' the wedding another few months if I had cold feet. I can't promise it wouldn't involve fire and bloodshed, but maybe if we all keep looking we can find a loophole and--"
"We've been looking for more than a year now, Wendy." Stan cut in. "There is no loophole that would allow for more than two people to marry. The only reason you and Kyle can wed is because of a small asterisk on a piece of paper more than three hundred years old."
Wendy pursed her lips. He was right. Wendy wasn't royalty. She had no right to any throne, no matter how far back in her lineage they went. If not for an addendum to marriage law that allowed for royalty to marry someone of non-royal status only if that person had both proven themselves in battle and saved the royals life, their plan would have fallen apart from the start.
"Besides," Stan gently tilted Wendy's face up, "I think I've completely resigned myself to the fact I'll be you and Kyle's personal shared concubine." He chuckled and she smiled at him.
"Stan..." Wendy stood on her toes and pressed a kiss to his lips, "Thank you."
"Come on, once I deliver you to your bridesmaids, I need to haul ass up to the alter by Kyle." He took a step back and held out his arm. "Let's go, Queen Brofloski."
~~~~~~
"Oh, Gerald," Queen Sheila wiped her eyes, "Look at our handsome little man. It seems like yesterday I was teaching you to walk and now my baby is getting married and going to be having babies of his own."
Kyle blushed. "Mom, the wedding starting in a few minutes, you and Dad need to take your seats."
King Gerald put a hand on his son's shoulder. "We will. We will. But first, do you have your vows memorized, and you know what to do?"
"For the hundredth time, yes. I know my vows, I know when to step towards Wendy, I know when to pray, I know." Kyle stressed. "Now, please, take your seats." Nodding, King Gerlad started to lead Kyle's bawling mother away from the alter to the first row of seats where he sat her down next to Prince Ike, who looked absolutely bored.
For a moment, it crossed Kyle's mind to go tell his brother to perk up and be as excited for this wedding as the last one, but he quickly banished the idea when King Douchebag entered the room. Spotting him, King Douchebag walked over. Kyle bowed.
"Your Majesty." He greeted. "I thank you greatly for coming to bless my wedding with your presence. It means much to my bride, myself, and my people."
King Douchebag nodded. He fixed Kyle with a long stare. Kyle held the gaze for a moment before he had to look away. King Douchebag was a man of few words, but his gaze spoke more than any words ever could. The king knew this wasn't the wedding Kyle had dreamed of, and he was sorry.
"It will be alright. This is how it has to be, for the betterment of our kingdoms." Kyle whispered. King Douchebag sighed before turning and left for his seat.
"Don't you have an alter to be standing next to?"
Kyle jumped and turn to see Stan beside him. "Where have you been?" Kyle demanded.
"Recently? I was escorting your bride, protecting her from any of your enemies who may wish you ill will." Stan glanced over at Cartman who was trying to look interested in whatever the old noble next to him was saying.
Kyle chuckled. "I have the utmost confidence anyone who dared tried to kidnap her would be met with swift retribution from her alone." He started towards the alter as he continued, "I know she has at least one blade hidden on her person."
Stan laughed and shook his head. "You're going to have a fun night tonight, my king."
As they took the steps towards the alter, Kyle lowered his voice and whispered into Stan's ear. "I wouldn't turn down help making sure I find them all tonight if you wanted to volunteer." Before Stan could do more than blush, Kyle strode past him to his place right of the clergyman. Stan barely had time to scramble beside Kyle when the music began.
Everyone stood and turned as the door of the main hall was opened. Members of the warrior tribe marched in. All of them wore decorative armor and had their swords at the ready, as was tradition. once they came to the end of the aisle, they turned and marched to the sides of the altar. With great flourish, they sheathed their weapons.
A little girl kyle didn't know came skipping down the aisle then, throwing flower petals around with reckless abandon followed by the ring bearer, a son that Kyle's cousin had somehow been able to produce, walked down the aisle, trembling. He prayed the little boy didn't drop the rings or wet his pants. Once the two children had made their way to the end, the basket of flower petals and the rings were taken from them and one of Wendy's bridesmaids ushered the children back to their parents.
Finally, the bride entered the room.
Wendy didn't have a father. Much like all the other shieldmaidens in her tribe, she was sent to train at a young age and was adopted fully into the tribe as a member of the family. So, instead of her father, it was traditional for the warrior's closest friend to be the one to escort her. Bebe beamed with pride as she led Wendy in.
From beside him, Kyle heard something like a single, small, stifled sob. With everyone's eyes on Wendy, he moved his hand over and tapped his fingers against Stan's. He wished he could do more to reassure him, but anything else would be too obvious.
Bebe took Wendy up the steps. Kyle turned and held his hands out, palms up, and Bebe took Wendy's hands from her arm and gently set them in Kyle's.
"We led her from our family into yours," Bebe recited.
"And I shall take her in and treat her as my own," Kyle replied back. with that, Bebe took her place mirror from Stan's, her hands behind her back.
the clergyman raised his hand then announced. "You may be seated."
As everyone took their seats, Kyle whispered, "You ready for this?"
"As I'll ever be," Wendy whispered back.
The clergyman cleared his throat then opened his book. "We are gathered here today to join Kyle Brofloski, King of All Elves, and Wendy Testaburger, Shieldmadian of the Warrior Tribe, in forever in holy union. If anyone has a reason these two should not be wed, please speak now or forever hold your...oh, my..." the clergyman trailed off his eyes wide as the crowd gasped and began to whisper amongst themselves.
Kyle furrowed his brow and swung his head around. He expected Cartman or one of the older nobles to be the ones to try to object, but instead what he saw made the color drain from his face and his skin go cold.
King Douchebag held his hand above his head.
"Y-Your Majesty. You have an objection?" the clergyman trembled.
Slowly, King Douchebag stood. He walked up the steps to the alter. He put his hands on Wendy's wrist and took her right hand from Kyle's grasp. The whispers from the crowd rose in volume, but Kyle's heart was beating too loudly in his ears to make out what anyone was saying. He could pick out individual voices like his mother panicked squawking or Cartmen's obnoxious laughter, but no words.
King Douchebag reached over and grabbed Stan's arm, pulling him over. He set one of Stan's hands on top of Kyle's palms then set the other over the top of Wendy's, finally he set Wendy's hand on top of Stan's and nodded. Feeling the warmth of both Stan's and Wendy's hands against his, Kyle shook himself and tried to focus.
"K-King Douchebag, you...what is this?" The clergy man's eyes were wide in shock.
"Your majesty," Wendy winced, "we can't. It's illegal. Believe us, we checked every law on the current record."
Stan gently pulled his hands away from Kyle and Wendy's. "I'm sorry, your majesty, but I appreciate it very much." With a shaky breath, Stan took his spot back with his hands behind his back. He blinked a few times as the moisture in his eyes began to form into tears.
King Douchebag narrowed his eyes. He then spun around and lifted his hand. Silence spilled across the room. He took a breath and spoke in an all commanding boom, "How archaic a law must be to deny those who are in love the gift of a life together in the eyes of the church and state. And thus, I, Dominique Douchebag, Dragonborn and King of all the Kingdom's and Lands of Zaron decree these laws be unjust and thus to be struck down. From now on, regardless of status, of gender, of race, if two or more adults are truly in love with each other, then it is legal for them to be wed."
The King turn and smiled at them before he headed back down to his seat. The room seemed to hold it's breath. Kyle wasn't sure if he felt embarrassed for having his secret relationship with Stan publicized or if he was overjoyed that he no longer even needed to hide it. Maybe it was a mixture of both as to why his face was nearly the same red shade as his hair.
Then, all at once, the silence was broken when Queen Shelia cried out, "What? What? WHAT?" and fainted out of her chair.
"Mom!" Kyle gasped and bolted down the steps. He knelt down next to his mother, his hands hovering unsure. King Gerald pulled his wife into his lap and fanned her face with his hands. Kyle glanced back up at the altar where Stan stood, frozen with his mouth hung open. Wendy waved her hand in front of his face but received no response.
Slightly panicking, Kyle jumped to his feet and shouted, "I need everyone to please leave in an orderly and fast fashion. Th-the ceremony will be postponed until--fuck--I don't--I'll send you all a letter, just get out!" He knew he was being very unkingly, but at the moment, he could care less. One of his lovers was stiff with shock, the other looked confused and worried, his mother had passed out, and he didn't even want to think about what would be said against him after this.
Prince Ike put a hand on Kyle's shoulder. Kyle turned to his brother, expecting a frown, but instead was greeted with a very large, very amused smile.
"Big brother, this is the best wedding I've ever been to."
~~~~~~~~~~
Kyle laid sprawled out on his bed in his chambers later that night. His wedding robes tossed carelessly aside onto the floor. It had taken most of the rest of the day to get everyone settled into a room or at an inn and to try to gather some sense of normalcy after the chaotic wedding.
There was a knock at the door. Without waiting, Stan peaked his head in. "May we come in?"
Kyle raised his hand and made a come in gesture. Stan held the door for Wendy before shutting it behind him. He locked in before joining Wendy beside the bed.
"I'm sorry," Stan sighed. "To both of you. This was my fault. King Douchebag saw me sulking before the wedding. I think he was just trying to help an old war buddy out, but went about it wrong."
Kyle pushed himself up. He rolled his exposed shoulders. "It's not your fault. I just...I wish he had warned me before he decided to go through with it like that. At least I could have had the smelling salts ready."
"How is Queen Shelia doing, by the way?" Wendy sat down beside Kyle and began to rub his shoulders. She had also changed out of her wedding dress into her normal clothing, though her hair remained in the same braids that Bebe had woven earlier.
"The doctor said she will be fine. Some tea and a night's sleep and she'll be back to normal." Kyle winced. "And ready to scold me, I'm sure."
Stan flopped down on his back. "So, what do we do now? His majesty can proclaim law changes all he wants, but it will still need to be voted on and approved, which will take months to do. Who knows what kind of damage people could do to your reputation in those months."
Kyle shrugged Wendy's hands off his shoulder before landing on to his back next to Stan. He snaked one arm around Stan's neck and pulled him close before holding his other out towards Wendy. Wendy smiled softly and crawled next to him, resting her head on his shoulder.
"I don't know what we're going to do." Kyle admitted. "but, I know we'll be able to figure it out, together."
~~~~
A/N: "King Dominique Douchebag" is actually Latin for 'Deux ex Machina' and Greek for 'the author wasn't sure how to write herself out of this hole without making this a multichapter she was never going to finished.'
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The Toy Dragon
Valas Telenna & various others [see below]. Dungeons & Dragons [Band of Misfits]. 4,272 words. More under the cut. AO3.
Summary: Valas’ past and present collide.
Other characters: Meiros Vanhorn, Zintra Rastor, Dominic Crawford, Eve Crawford, Evanora Crawford, Elizira Vanhorn, Hai Li, Rihiri Valtari (@jellyfishlovesloki), Zaegar Steelheart (@nutellanewt), Sefhana Brenlynn (@bxtgrl), & Bilbo Swaggins (@theoneandonlyfloozyjesus).
Note: Set in a world created by our wonderful DM (@iodine-kisses).
His ears were ringing. Valas turned on Dominic, annoyed by the young man’s proud grin. His friend’s wavy dark hair had been put up in a bun – the fact that the bard had taken the time to tie his hair up during a fight was irritating in itself. Meiros was already at Valas’ side, searching the drow for injuries to heal.
“Next time you blast a dragon off of me, how about you warn me to cover my ears?!” from the way that Dominic laughed and Meiros winced, Valas guessed he was yelling. It took Meiros a few minutes to get his ears to stop ringing.
In the meantime, Dominic was looking down at the carcass of a dragon and still grinning widely. “I killed that.”
His twin sister, Eve, rolled her eyes. “We helped.”
“But I landed the killing blow!” he countered, causing his sister to roll her eyes again. “I can’t wait to go home and tell my daughter her daddy’s a dragon slayer!”
“Baby dragon.”
All party members looked to Hai, who was the next to get Meiros’ attention, though he often fought from a distance and thus avoided most harm. The sorcerer’s familiar, a raven named Obsidian, sat for once quietly on his shoulder.
Dominic’s grin was starting to fade. “What?”
“You killed a baby dragon,” Hai stated matter-of-factly, nodding toward the carcass.
Dominic didn’t look all that proud anymore. “Well – well you guys helped kill it!”
Eve put on her best sympathetic sister act and clapped Dominic on the shoulder. “But brother, you landed the killing blow.”
“You’re the great dragon slayer!” Elizira chimed in, exchanging a grin with Zintra, who shook her head.
Valas thought Dominic looked like he would cry.
“I didn’t want to kill a baby!”
“It did attack me,” Valas pointed out. He felt Hai sling an arm around his shoulders – the sorcerer’s other arm rested across Meiros’ shoulders. It was an affectionate attempt to keep both men near him, though it also prevented Meiros from walking over and healing the other members of their party.
“Well we couldn’t have that,” Elizira teased and chuckled at the unimpressed look Valas shot her.
Zintra picked up her shield, slinging it onto her back, signaling that it was time for their group to continue farther into the cave. After all, they had a serial murderer to hunt. As she passed Dominic, she patted him on his arm, “Don’t worry. We’ll tell your daughter you slayed an evil adult dragon.”
No, no, no. This couldn’t have been happening. Not again. Not again.
Valas’ hands shook, covered in blood – in her blood, in his blood.
Just a few feet away, her body lay lifeless. She was looking in his direction, arm outstretched as if to beg him to stop, lips parted in a silent plead to spare her brother. Her eyes were wide with shock and tears stained her cheeks, marking her with the heartache, the pain of betrayal. But her eyes were also dim, lifeless. The midsection of the dress the alchemist wore, once a beautiful shade of green, was darkened and soaked with crimson. He could see where the blade had pierced her from behind all the way through to stick out the other end. Perhaps if the blade had been left in, she would have had more time. More time to struggle to live. More time to helplessly watch her brother die.
Just a few feet away, Eve stared lifelessly at him, lips parted as if to ask why he knelt over her brother’s dying body.
Underneath him, Dominic was dying. He was dying fast, the blade having pierced his heart from the front. The blade was still in him. That blade – Valas’ blade.
Valas’ hands shook as he removed the blade. Leaving it in wouldn’t have made a difference. The others were too far away. Meiros was too far away. He wouldn’t get there in time to heal Dominic. None of the others even knew what was happening. None of them knew of the danger. None of them knew about the death and the dying.
He frantically took his cloak off and bunched it together, pressing it against the wound. Dominic whimpered against the pain. Valas felt his heart tear. Tears were in the corners of Dominic’s eyes – some escaped. Valas didn’t even register that he, himself, was crying too. He didn’t register that he was practically sobbing.
Not again.
For a split second, he didn’t see Dominic underneath him. He saw an older man – a drow with short silver hair, not quite white. He saw his hands around the hilt of a dagger. The drow reached up, touching his cheek with bloody fingers. He felt his mother’s presence behind him, looming over him. He saw the disgust on his father’s face beneath him.
“I should have killed you. You should be dead.”
And suddenly it wasn’t his father but Dominic underneath him. Dominic, staring up at him with sad eyes, but still with that caring look of a young father, of a friend, watching someone break. Dominic reached up, his arm shaking with the effort, his fingers and hand bloody from trying to hold his own wound and stop the bleeding he knew in his heart wouldn’t stop.
He weakly cupped his hand against Valas’ tearstained cheek. Valas’ eyes snapped from the wound to him.
“It’s going to be okay,” Dominic managed to get out, his voice quiet, weak. Each word was a struggle, but he looked determined not to die and leave them unsaid. “It’s not… your fault.”
Valas became aware of his own sobbing. “I’m so sorry.”
Dominic tried to shake his head but didn’t have the strength to. “Now you’re fond of me.” He put on his best smile but it wavered. He looked afraid of dying. He looked like a man desperate to live but with no cards left in the deck, no more moves to make.
Valas wanted to tell him he thought of the bard as one of his best friends but the words caught in his throat. He choked out a sob, gently grabbing Dominic’s hand and holding it against his cheek.
“Valas,” Dominic stressed, “Promise me… Promise me you’ll see my daughter.”
Valas started to shake his head.
“See my little Evanora,” he insisted, “She’ll need her – she’ll need her Uncle Val to show her…” He coughed up blood but refused to stop talking. “Show her how to survive… How to survive this cruel world. Tell her – tell her about her Auntie Eve. Tell her about the hero she was, smart and brave…” His words became slower, his eyes dimmer. “Tell her… Tell her that her daddy was a dragon slayer…”
Though he wanted to refuse, Valas slowly nodded. “I’ll tell her about the hero he was too.”
That made Dominic smile. “I always wanted to be a hero…”
With that, Dominic took his last breath.
It had been roughly one year. For roughly a year, he had tried not to think about Dominic or Eve, about any of the others he’d left behind. He’d chosen to run and had never stopped. He had sometimes taken odd jobs – assassinations usually – to earn money so he could feed himself and Spite – the spoiled spider had quite the appetite. But he was used to those jobs requiring only himself. It had been roughly one year since he’d worked in a party.
Now he found himself surrounded by strangers – Rihiri, a tiefling druid; Zaegar, a half-orc monk; Bilbo, a halfling rogue; and Sefhana, a half-elf ranger who he was fairly certain was the most annoying half-elf he’d ever met. Of course he pretended not to remember their names – he didn’t plan on sticking with them for long. They just needed to slay this beast, this… Well he remembered their names, not the beast’s. It was progress.
Still, those memories lingered in his mind. When battle began, his first instinct was to turn to Elizira and give her the mischievous grin that she knew was him asking her to lay down cover fire so he could get close to the enemy as safely as possible.
But Elizira wasn’t there. Instead when he turned he met Sefhana’s gaze. He’d just met her not too long ago, but he assumed it was safe to say they weren’t going to get along.
Where he expected to see Zintra charging into battle, sword drawn, he saw Zaegar, reigning his fists down rather than a blade. Where he expected to see Dominic and Eve concocting some crazy plan that might get everyone killed but hey, at least they’d look good doing it, he saw Rihiri throw Bilbo and the halfling land ungracefully with his face against the ground. Where he expected to see Obsidian swooping down and pecking at enemies, he saw a large bear that had accompanied Rihiri.
And where he expected to see his lovers taking up the rear – Meiros with his crossbow, Hai with his staff and magic – he saw nothing but an empty space. Trees stood where he thought his lovers should have been.
He decided he didn’t like it here with these people early on. It was too familiar yet foreign, working with a group yet a group he had never known before. He’d learned to work in sync with his previous party, with his… friends.
He thought back to that party, to those faces he’d learned to affectionately call his friends – a couple of them more than friends. He thought back to first meeting Zintra, to hunting down that monster. He thought back to being by Zintra’s side as she recruited each of the others. He thought back to the nights they’d spent around a campfire, Dominic creating lyrics to songs on the spot that made no sense but made everyone laugh.
He thought back to Eve, staring lifelessly, silently pleading at him to spare her brother. He thought back to Dominic, to making a promise he couldn’t keep.
He decided that he wouldn’t allow himself to enjoy it here with these people. He wouldn’t allow himself to get close, to stay. He would leave them behind as soon as he collected his money. He didn’t need any more friends. He didn’t need anyone caring about him. He didn’t need the blood of those he cared about on his hands anymore.
He looked around at the group of strangers he didn’t want to get to know. He thought that if he wasn’t in their lives, then certainly their lives would be longer.
Valas stared down at the toy in his hand – a small, wooden dragon. It was clearly a child’s toy, and he had no clue why it was on a corpse unless… He stood up and turned from the corpse, not wanting to find out if it was of a child or an adult. He stared at the little dragon, stirring a memory he’d tried hard to push down.
He saw Dominic using one of his daggers to carve a twig into a crude tiny little spear. He carved it too thin, of course, and it just fell apart the moment he tried to stab a piece of meat with it. Eve playfully rolled her eyes.
“You should leave the woodcarving to the, well, the woodcarvers,” she teased.
He saw himself snatch the dagger back and investigate the blade. “Keep taking my daggers and you’re going to dull the blades.”
Dominic shrugged. “If I want to be a woodcarver, I need to practice.”
Zintra looked up from her meal and cocked an eyebrow. “You want to be a woodcarver?”
Dominic grinned cheekily. “Maybe, maybe not.”
Eve playfully shoved him. “If you were a woodcarver, Evanora would have more toys than she does.”
“She has plenty of toys!” Dominic protested, “Her Auntie Eve spoils her.”
This time it was Eve’s turn to grin. “Well I have to be her favorite relative.”
Dominic barked out laughter at that.
“You should make her a toy dragon,” Elizira chimed in, “After all her daddy’s a dragon slayer.”
Dominic opened his mouth to agree when Eve added, “And it’d be small enough to be a baby dragon.” Dominic shot her a sour look and the party erupted in laughter around the small campfire they had built.
And suddenly Valas was staring at a small, wooden toy. A little dragon in his hands. And he was back in the cave with a different party, a different set of faces. The only familiar thing was Spite, perched on his shoulder, staring at him with her multitude of eyes. For the first time in roughly a year, he slipped the toy into his bag with one thought on his mind.
Evanora would like this.
You’ve got to be kidding me, Valas wanted to say, staring defiantly at the half-orc in front of him. Was it truly the only way to get what they needed? Couldn’t they just kill them all and go about their lives? Did he really need to give this up?
Of course he did. He mentally reminded himself that this was life and life was never kind, at least not for long. Anything kind would surely be taken away from him – kind gestures, kind moments, kind people. It would all become memories soaked in blood. It always had.
He thought he saw Sefhana look like she was going to try to swipe it from him. Which would have been ridiculous in his opinion, trying sleight of hand out on a rogue. But then Zaegar had his attention again – he told himself the monk could easily get his attention just because he was shirtless. He refused to think any farther into that.
The next words out of the drow’s mouth was a price. It was a ridiculous price that anyone in their right mind wouldn’t pay. It was a silly item that wasn’t even worth half that amount. At first he didn’t think he’d heard correctly when Zaegar agreed. But as he saw the coin, he realized he’d somehow walked right into a deal that should have greatly pleased him. He’d never reluctantly taken money before. But as he put on his best cocky grin and traded the small item for the gold, he felt just that – reluctance.
He watched as the wooden toy, the little dragon was given away so they could continue on and finish their quest. He told himself it was for the best. He didn’t ever plan on seeing the Crawfords again. He hadn’t even been there for Dominic and Eve’s funerals, having ran away as they had been traveling to take the bodies home.
He told himself he didn’t deserve to take such a gift to little Evanora, who would be eleven by now. He didn’t deserve to hand her a toy with the same hands that had been soaked in her father and aunt’s blood. He didn’t deserve to see her smiling face again, to be graced with her presence again. He didn’t deserve to have such innocence in his life.
He told himself it was for the best.
He pretended that celebrations bored him, but rather they made him uncomfortable. He didn’t think he deserved to be celebrated, and he guessed the townsfolk might have felt odd, having a drow in the party they were cheering on. Or perhaps it was such a small town that they didn’t care. He found it hard to keep track of every place that despised his race.
He watched the others have fun, mostly sticking to the shadows or eating when he felt hungry. Receiving gifts from the townsfolk wasn’t something he was used to or expected. All he’d wanted was to get paid so he could leave, but free food was free food.
He rummaged through the gifts, not quite caring about them and halfheartedly putting them away in his bag. He froze, though, when he noticed a small, wooden toy. It lifted the little dragon up and inspected it. He wasn’t sure if it was new or the same one. But either way, somehow he now held a toy dragon in his hands. He glanced around, trying to figure out who was responsible for it – it couldn’t have been a coincidence. But to his knowledge, no one was giddily watching him, waiting for him to see the toy. To his knowledge, no one cared.
He glanced to Spite – he guessed that if spiders could shrug, she would have – before carefully placing the toy in his bag.
He wondered who he would owe for this. It wasn’t a coincidence, he was sure of it. And nothing in life came free. Someone knew about the toy, knew what it had meant to him though he hadn’t spoken it. Someone had gone out of their way to get either the same one or a new one and give it to him. He thought someone clearly wanted something from him, but what? He didn’t know, and he wasn’t looking forward to finding out.
He knew this city. He realized that the instant his stomach dropped and he felt sick. He’d been traveling around with Rihiri, Zaegar, Sefhana, and Bilbo for a little over a year now, and he’d been praying to the goddess that they wouldn’t journey to this city. Perhaps this was Lolth’s way of punishing him for not being devout.
It was a big city, but he doubted luck was on his side. He pretended not to know where shops or inns were. He pretended not to know the city, but he was quieter than usual. This city brought back memories that should have put a smile on his face but instead tore at his heart. This city made him look at his hands and see red.
He stood outside a vendor, one he recognized and resisted the urge to groan. He remembered almost punching this vendor for trying to swindle him out of his money while stating not so kind words about drow. The only thing that had kept him from decking the man had been Hai, gently but firmly grasping his arm and pulling him away. He remembered also hearing the man scream something about his hair being on fire.
His hair had clearly grown back – he looked as irritating as ever. He eyed Valas, but kept most of his attention on Rihiri and Zaegar, though technically Bilbo was the one talking to him. The man’s eyes were nervous glued to the tiefling and half-orc, who looked intimidating from his angle. It probably didn’t make the man feel comforted to see the party was trailed by a bear and a wolf.
Valas, however, hadn’t realized he’d neglected to put his hood up. Every now and then the man glanced at him as if he thought he might have recognized him before his attention snapped back to the druid and monk. Valas was tempted to tell Bilbo to steal whatever he needed while the merchant was preoccupied.
“Uncle Val!” he heard a familiar shriek and felt something – or rather someone – collide with him and refuse to let go. He looked down to find a twelve year old girl with wavy red hair tied up in pigtails. Though he hadn’t seen her in a few years and hadn’t expected her to recognize him, he knew instantly who she was.
Evanora.
She released him from her hug and his eyes darted around, searching the crowd for the face of her mother, Amelia. He didn’t see her which both relieved and concerned him. He didn’t think he could face her – the last time he’d seen her, she’d told him and Zintra to bring her husband back safely. However he also didn’t think Evanora should be out without her mother.
He knelt down in front of the little girl, not quite sure what to say. She looked up at his companions and gave a small wave with a big grin before her attention was back on him. Her grin wavered.
“Do you remember me?” her voice cracked, setting off alarms in his head. She was pure, innocent, a child. She didn’t deserve to be sad.
“Yes – Yes, of course I do!” he said quickly, watching with relief as a smile returned to her face. He swallowed down his emotions and tried to put on a smile of his own, cupping her face in his hands. “Look at how big you’ve grown! Why you’re practically an adult!”
She giggled at that. “Mommy lets me go grocery shopping by myself!”
He doubted that was true. Amelia was a protective mother, even though the city was fairly safe and most in it knew and were fond of the Crawford family. “Does she now? You must be so brave to walk these streets alone!”
She grinned and bounced up and down, her pigtails bouncing with her. “I am! I am!” It was clear she had her father’s energy. When she stopped bouncing, she looked at him as if searching for something. “Where have you been?”
He felt like she’d stabbed him with one of his own daggers. If only, he thought.
“I uh…” he tried to think of something, “I’ve um – I’ve been on a secret mission.”
She gasped. “A secret mission?!”
“Shhh, Evanora,” he gently hushed her, “It’s a secret.”
She made a big O with her mouth and quickly nodded her head.
“I’m actually still on it,” he explained. He didn’t like lying to her, but he thought lying was one of the things he did best.
“Why are you here?” she asked curiously.
He thought of that small toy and swung his backpack off his shoulder. “I’ve got a gift for you.” He reached in and gently took the dragon toy out, handing it to her.
She gasped and took it, grinning from ear to ear.
He smiled, genuinely and affectionately. “Now when you look at this,” he spoke up to get her attention again, “I want you to remember you daddy, okay?”
“My daddy?”
He nodded. “You see, your daddy and Auntie Eve, they were brave, brave heroes. The bravest this world will ever know! And your daddy – Why, he was a dragon slayer!”
Her eyes widened. “He was?”
Valas found himself mirroring her grin. “He was! I was attacked one time by this evil evil dragon, and your daddy saved my life!”
“Can I tell Mommy that story?” she asked eagerly.
He thought that it was only because she was young and distracted by her excitement that she didn’t ask him to come with her. “Of course!”
She threw her arms around him, and he found himself hugging her back and not quite wanting to let go. He didn’t want to leave her in the past again. But he had to let go. If he stayed, she would only get hurt. And she would hate him if she ever found out the truth. He stood up and watched her bounce off to find her mother.
He felt eyes on him and, unsurprisingly, found the others had been watching. He didn’t blame them. In their shoes, he probably would have watched too.
“She’s the daughter of someone I knew,” he explained without needing to be asked.
“A friend?” Rihiri asked. During their nights spent together, he had opened up to her a couple of times, though he’d kept majority of the details to himself.
“I don’t have friends,” he stated firmly, though he was fairly certain the look Sefhana gave him translated to bullshit. “Not… anymore.” He didn’t think he’d ever admitted that he’d once had friends before. At least not to anyone but Rihiri. He thought the silence that followed was awkward and uncomfortable. “You can ask what happened.” His own voice sounded demanding even to him, as if he wanted them to accuse him of what they didn’t know had happened.
Zaegar smiled softly at him – Valas thought he smiled too much, and on that note, flexed too much too, not that he would ever tell the monk to stop. He liked watching him smile and flex. “You’ll tell us when you’re ready.”
Valas pulled his gaze away. He wanted them to accuse him. Murderer. Monster. Traitor. He wanted those words screamed at him, spoken like the truth they were.
“He died,” he stated it, his voice cold yet shaking, the sorrow he’d never allowed himself to grieve threatening to shatter the ice he’d put between himself and his heart. “He died with his sister. They were murdered.”
“I’m sorry,” Bilbo spoke up before the others could, but it was clear that even Sefhana sympathized.
Valas found he couldn’t stop talking, speaking words he didn’t want to. “When we first met, I… I was on a quest to avenge them. I’ve sworn to kill the man who killed them.” Before any of them could offer to hunt someone down, he added, “It’s something that I must do. And eventually I’ll get the chance to. Until then, it doesn’t matter.”
“If we run into him, tell us and we can help,” Rihiri promised, and Valas looked away.
He didn’t have the heart to tell them they had already met that man.
“Thank you,” he said instead, “But I’ll kill him… When I’m strong enough, he’ll die.”
He didn’t have the heart to tell Rihiri that this was linked to the bandages she’d seen around his arms and wrists. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that this was linked to the scars and cuts she’d seen on his arms, wrists, waist, and thighs. He didn’t have the heart to tell any of them that he was talking about himself.
#dungeons & dragons#Dungeons and Dragons#d&d#dnd#fanfic#c: valas telenna#s: band of misfits#v: let's go on an adventure#oc#my writing#other's oc#jellyfishlovesloki#nutellanewt#nat#theoneandonlyfloozyjesus#iodine kisses#i'll tag other characters tomorrow#and add this to my fic masterlist tomorrow ok#*mine
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D&D Eberron: “A Night Away”
Key Characters: Valia Orespeaker (LG f!dwarf, druid), Percivahn Sartura (LN m!elf, fighter, NPC)
Summary: After the revelation of her partner’s family being murdered, Valia decides to put adventuring on hold to be with Percivahn - if only for a short time.
Part 2/2
The two lay quietly together in bed, coming down from their highs and readjusting to the realities around them. Valia let her head rest on his chest as she wrapped an arm across his midsection. His hand was on the top of her wrist as he lazily rubbed back and forth. It was comfortable and familiar. She hoped it was helping him feel a little more grounded. It was certainly helping her.
“Tell me about Wroat,” he said into the darkness. And so, she did. She spoke of the weather, the peaches, the people, and various groups vying for power. She spoke about Simic and how his real name was Hobin. She explained his history as best she knew it, about his brother, his mother, and Alwin - poor Alwin. Then there was the Hand of Galifar and the vampire and potentially the rakshasa. Finally came loneliness, the resentment, confusion, and anger she was feeling amongst and for her compatriots.
“I don’t know who they are and question if I ever did,” she finished. She felt her chin get lifted by one of his long fingers and she looked up at him in response. Thankfully, he was smiling.
“They are a complicated group but I do hold out hope for them. We accomplished much in The Shadow Marches. Despite their jokes, I am back to to my senses because of their help.”
Valia frowned. “I hate that they make those jokes at your expense. At our expense. Being enthralled was no laughing matter and based on their own relationships, they don’t have a big game to talk about.”
“Perhaps not, but that doesn’t stop you from taking the high ground, I’m sure.”
She let out a harsh sigh. “No, it doesn’t. I want to help them fix things. There are actual ancient dragons watching us right now but they are watching to make a judgement on the mortal races. A judgement on how deserving we are - how good. If our own companions are neck deep in a bunch of selfish lies and burned bridges, I’m not sure what high roads will exist after the dragons choose to roast us.”
Her partner cocked his head to the side at her words. “That doesn’t sound like the Valia I know,” he said softly. She closed her eyes.
“No, I know.” She paused and listened to his pulse beating under her ear. “I’m angrier now than I think I’ve ever been.” She paused again. “I need to go back and help make things right but I would much rather stay here,” she lamented.
His hand behind her rubbed a long line across her shoulder blades at her words. “And I would be a liar myself if I said I didn’t want you here as well,” he murmured, “but they need you. If anything, it sounds as though Oswald will need backup for supplying logic, morale, and general goodness to the others.”
A sad smile crossed her face before quickly falling away. She hugged Percivahn tighter and tucked her head under his chin. “I’m sorry I can’t stay yet. I’m sorry can’t be here to help you, too.”
“You are apologizing for a great many things and while I do thank you for it, tonight has been a gift I soon won’t forget. It will certainly be what I return to in memory over the next weeks, I’m certain.”
“Will you go to Aerenal ? To see your sister?” she asked quietly.
His sigh echoed in her ears. “Yes, I think I must. I need more answers and closure than what my uncle has been willing to supply. Plus, as I am now the oldest remaining in the line, there is the matter of funerals to attend to,” his words were all business but held a brittle tone to them. Valia sat up to look at him.
Her partner looked back with an impassive expression but his eyes shone with determination and deep mourning. Closing the gap between them, Valia placed a lingering kiss to his lips. He responded in kind, deepening it with the swipe of his tongue. She felt him smile against her lips. “As I said, I will think of this night very often indeed,” he said lowly.
She pecked him on the corner of his mouth and gave a small slap to his chest. He grinned and wrapped both arms around her, rolling them onto their sides to face each other.
“I’ll remember tonight, too. First flight is a big deal among Druids. I’m happy I got the chance to see you at the other end of it,” she giggled in his embrace, watching his features closely.
“When you think about me, about tonight, please remember that I love you,” she said in a rush of words. His brow rose in surprise before a smile stretched across his angular face. “I will so long as you too recall that I love you, Valia Orespeaker.”
Their kiss was tender but made Valia’s stomach flip in its simplicity. They had endured so much already and more was certainly to come, but knowing that she had the love of her partner was like a balm to the dwarf’s spirit. She threaded her fingers through the Percivahn’s hair at the base of his neck while their legs entwined. It would be another hour before the two fell asleep in each other’s arms.
————
Valia woke to Percivahn placing a gentle kiss to her forehead. Opening her eyes, she saw him leaning over from a standing position at her side of the bed. “Good morning,” he said simply.
“Good morning. What time is it?”
“Two hours past dawn, I believe. I wanted to let you sleep but know you have a great travel ahead of you,” he replied, offering her a plate of fruit.
She sighed at the realization. “Thank you,” she murmured, taking the plate and eating the food quickly. After placing the now empty platter on the side table, she sat up and gave him a quick kiss before getting out of bed to change.
“I didn’t mention it last night but I was curious if you had any thoughts on relocating or staying somewhere else, at least for a time,” she started. The elven man looked back at her in question but let her go on.
“It’s just that we don’t know where your cousin Elenia is right now and I worry about what she would do if she found out about your location,” she finished.
Percivahn inclined his head in thought. “Yes, you may be right about that, unfortunately. I will see if I can make arrangements at the Aurum for a temporary room of sorts. At least for when I return from Aerenal.”
Valia nodded. Percivahn could certainly take care of himself what with his skill with a sword, but the danger of this unhinged relation was difficult to deny. “When will you leave for the continent?”
“Likely tomorrow or the next day, depending on when I can secure passage,” he replied.
“You’ll continue to write me?”
He smiled. “Yes, of course.”
Now fully outfitted, Valia walked to stand in front of her partner. Without hesitation, he bent forward to kiss her while wrapping his arms around her in a comfortable embrace. They ended their kiss but stayed in each other’s arms for a time. Due to his height, the top of her head hit just under his chin. It was easy and felt like a perfection Valia had never known. “I love you,” she said.
“And I you,” he returned. “Thank you... for coming. And for listening and -“ she cut him off with a firm kiss. “Your welcome, Percivahn. And despite what you wrote in your letter, you are the strongest of men I have ever known. You’ve overcome so much and still can keep your eyes on the bigger of pictures. I admire that. You don’t give yourself enough credit,” she espoused.
“Thank you for that as well then,” he said sheepishly. Valia stood on her toes to kiss him firmly before stepping away. “Good luck in Aerenal. Write as much as you would like to. I like seeing your script.”
“I will.”
She smiled brightly before opening the window of his room. “Check this out!” she exclaimed before returning to the form of an eagle. Percivahn’s eyes widened as she let out a screech and flapped her newly formed wings. “I’m impressed, yet again,” he shook his head in mirth. “Safe travels, my love.”
The eagle gave another bright call before taking off into the sky. Percivahn watched as her form grew smaller before disappearing entirely. He shut the window and went back to his preparations feeling lighter than he had in some time.
#dnd#dnd fanfic#dnd character#fanfic#fan fiction#creative writing#original character#hurt/comfort#romance
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Seeking the Raptorblood - Tiny, Part 2 - Arrival
The box was large, flat and heavy, painted blue and with silver inlay. Inside were the things that would first comfort their daughter: An obsidian knife to cut the connection between mother and daughter, and a soft rabbit skin and wool blanket to keep her warm.
Xiao smiled down at the box as he unpacked it, moving to bring it into the birthing room and setting it aside for now. "I have the materials, Vol." He looked to the soon-to-be mother. "How are you holding up, Naddja? Are you having any pain?" He held his own stomach to pass along the question just to be sure.
The druid nodded, but looked down at the much smaller male. She resumed her pacing, not looking to either of them as Vol moved to sit on the chair Naddja had been in before. "Xiao. Come 'ere." He knew better, thanks to Kit, than to interfere or do anything that Naddja didn't want or need. "Naddja gonna tell us when she be needin' us. She bein trustin' ta let us en da room. Best let a tigah ta do as et need. Ah tink Kit's words be, to 'fuck off an let 'er be'. " Vol grinned, looking out the window over the mountains in the distance. "Nothin' we do be helpful til den."
Xiao looked as though he was about to speak again when Vol called him. He nodded and headed over to his mate, looping his arms around him and hugging on him lightly as they waited. "I understand. Us Pandaren do have a secret that could help. I deactivate a certain pressure point with one or two touches and the pain is cut down by a good sixty or seventy five percent, depending on the birth. Just ask and I can do it, alright?" He then blushed as he realized he used big words. "Could you translate, Vol?"
"Ah ask." He did turn to Naddja as she lay her palms against the wall and stretched. The hunter spoke, keeping his tone straightforward. The druid whined, but shook her head. Her own words were jumbled and strained as another contraction hit her. When both males could tell it subsided, she nodded toward Xiao and tugged on the lace of her skirt.
"She be sayin' no. She gonna disrobe, ja gonna get a free show ah not sure ja want anyway." He picked Xiao up and plopped him in his lap. "Best leave er to et. Ja Mama an' mine, mah sistahs, cousins... Dis what dey go through. Raptari usually be hidin'." He buried his face in Xiao's fur and whispered. "She be askin' when et time. She could be makin’ us stay out da room, but she lettin' us stay ta bond wit Tiny."
Xiao nodded in understanding, scooting tighter back against Vol's chest as he was plopped in his lap. "As long as she is sure... and Vol I am a healer, I have seen naked women before. I am a professional, you know." He said with a small smile, though he did blush just a bit when she began to disrobe. He leaned into Vol and whispered back now. "This whispering reminds me, why are we whispering? What happened to your collar?" He asked tentatively, his hand reaching up to his own and rubbing at it a bit sadly.
"Et safe en da Vale. Et not safe when ah left da Vipah's. Ah put et on before we go ta da Ravenwolf ones." He kissed the Pandaren on the nose, smiling. "Mah family need ta be safe. Til ah know dey not comin' an we settled, we gonna stay dere most da time. Fer now. Why JA nevah use et while ja gone.. Ja tell me latah." The troll pulled Xiao closer as he fought to not get up and help the druid who was clawing into the mattress of the bed. Xiao would be able to see the woman fight to not shift. Scales and Feathers covered her back and shoulders, the fight to not shift to her familiar raptor form a visible and verbal fight. Vol could hear every curse and epithet. He turned anxious and so pressed his head to Xiao's cheek. "Seein' naked girlies not fun, specially when dey screamin' like a damn banshee from pain."
Xiao looked away guiltily. "Most nights I barely made it to bed, I... Spent all of my energy when it should have been saved for you." He murmured quietly, kissing Vol's cheek now. "She will survive, her body is made for this. I just wish she would let me help. I know it is natural, but I hate to hear anyone in pain." He leaned in to whisper even quieter now. "Just sitting in your lap is... Testing, you know." He chuckled a bit. "I know I am being incredibly inappropriate, especially with Naddja right there going through all of this... I just have missed you so much." He kissed Vol tenderly on the cheek again, making a quiet little 'mrr' of happiness as he did.
"Naddja HEAR .... ja...."
A reptilian growl came from her throat as she called out, breathing slowly. Her next words were ones filled with pain but made Vol stand up. "Where da box."
Xiao turned a pale shade of white. "I... I was whispering, I... Uhm.... I am very embarrassed. Sorry Naddja." He stood up as Vol did, moving over to the box immediately and bringing it over. "It's here, what do you need?"
Naddja let Vol'raka lean her against the bed, back pressed to the foot board as she began to push. "Ah be right back. Put da knife an box by da bed." He took off at a long striding walk toward the kitchen. When he was out of ear shot, she turned to Xiao, panting.
"Still Promise, not tell til go...?" Her face was pleading with him, her hand reaching out to grab his paw. Her hand was strong and gripped him tight. She had to trust the pandaren right then, hoping he understood. "Xiao safe. Yes. Promise?"
Xiao did as he was instructed, setting aside the designated objects and then being quite surprised by Naddja's forceful grip. He frowned, not out of anger, but sadness. "I will keep your secret until you leave if you want me too, but... Naddja, this... This isn't right. I can see the pain on your face and I am not talking about from labor. Even if have to let her see you in secret to hide from your mate, we could work something out if you wanted us to. Vol is a kind, loving, understanding man... He will understand. I really think you should tell him." He reached over with his other hand, gently gripping the top of hers as it grabbed and squeezed, furred fingers rubbing along her likely sweaty skin.
"Never see Naddja. Tiny never see. Be dead. Never see." She kept repeating the words as tears ran down her eyes. "Never." The druid was coated in sweat, blue green hair plastered to her neck, the bones that tied her braids clinking softly as she dropped her head and screamed. "Vol'raka come. Promise...?"
The big hunter wandered back in with the largest basin in the house and a pitcher of steaming water. On one arm, he had a bucket of cool water that he placed next to Xiao. "Ja cool 'er off a lil?" He slipped into Zandali for a moment and asked her if she needed help. She said no, grasping the pandaren's hand like he was the only thing keeping her together. Vol said nothing of it. If she trusted the monk, it was better for her and the little one to come. He busied himself with getting out the fur and wool blanket, laying it across his lap as he sat cross-legged in front of her straining form. He knew his job at this point. Naddja had adamantly refused to touch the child so it was up to him to welcome her to the world.
Xiao tried to keep a good poker face but the sadness was clear in his eyes. "I promise, Naddja..." When he saw Vol come back in, be continued as if it was just normal conversation. "You will be okay, you and that baby girl, I promise." As the bucket was set down, he reached via free hand down to soak a rag in the cool water and dab it across her face and forehead before continuing down to her neck and hoping to try and cool down the fevered temperature of her body. "When she is coming, I am going to summon my Chi, heal you as she is coming out. It should prevent any... Ah, tearing. So you tell me when she is about to come so I can get ready, okay? Vol, just translate everything I say from here on out for me please, just for clarity's sake." He bit back a gulp after that, trying to be brave, only going off of what he'd heard. All he remembered from over hearing once was "vaginal tearing" and he noped out of the conversation, but it sure came in handy now.
The next twenty or so minutes were full of screams and cries of a Zandalari in absolute pain. She'd actually accepted Xiao's help after Vol translated everything, but only at the very end. She did not have control over her own forms at that point, scales and feathers sliding into and out of view. The lack of control began to show more and more as the bedpost she had wrapped a clawed hand around sprouted flowers, a vine wrapping around Xiao's wrist and her's. Unable to mentally bring herself to look at the Darkspear in front of her, her face turned to Xiao. There was fear, pain, sadness and every raw negative emotion she felt at that moment.
Yet it was in that moment that the Pandaren's mate stuck the obsidian dagger into the heated water and put his hands down to where Xiao could barely see. Vol'raka's words were soft, but in orcish so he didn't have to translate. "Almost, Naddja. Ja trust Xiao. He help ja..."
The moment she gave the go ahead, his finger glowed a gentle teal and have three quick jabs, gently of course, on key pressure points in the small of her back. Immediately she'd feel the pain cut tremendously, as if someone had put a dam on the raging river of pain coursing through her nervous system. With Vol now dipping the blade, he knew things were coming to a culmination. He summoned his Chi much more brightly around his hands, waiting for the right moment as he positioned his hands below her as well to be ready to help guide the baby along if Vol wasn't on that already. Either way, the moment he saw the baby crowning, he'd begin pulsing regenerative surges of mist to heal any damage of the baby coming out and trying to strengthen the flesh even if only temporarily to keep from further tearing. "You have this, Naddja, you are so close."
Within moments, a very tiny, but decidedly loud infant troll laid in her father's lap. He had not had to rub her to encourage breathing as Kit said he may have to, nor any of the horror stories that he had been told. She was covered in fluids, blood and an absolute mess, but Vol'raka didn't care. He held up the screaming child, letting Xiao see her as well. Blue grey skin, midway between her parents, with the faint spots on her forehead and shoulders that her mother had. Her hair, sparse but as vibrant green and gold as her sire, with visible strands of sapphire blue through out. She was small, but if Xiao was watching Vol's face, the same look that had come to the Troll's face when he fell in love with the Pandaren hit his eyes.
"'Ey dere..."
Naddja reminded him, gently in Zandali, to finish it. She had turned her head from them both, let go of Xiao's hand. "Xiao. Ja take ouah daughtah ta ouah room, ah be dere in a bit." The dagger was then used for its purpose, severing mother from child permanently. The Darkspear's own ability to heal sealed the wound on their child before wrapping her in fur and wool. "Quick.. Ah be en derr en a few minutes."
Xiao couldn't help but to smile as their little girl came into the world, letting himself be distracted for only a moment before forcing himself to finish up the healing on Naddja so she didn't have any scarring down there. He squeezed the woman's shoulder gently. "You did it... and the pressure points will naturally reopen in a few hours, so be ready for the muscle pain to hit around then." Then as Vol instructed, he took the bundled newborn and headed from the room, but not before giving Vol a loving but almost bittersweet look for some reason. A reason Naddja would know, but no one else, at least not yet
As Xiao left, the trolls did as they needed. Although Vol never made it seem so, his people were superstitious and certain rituals were observed. The remnants of birth, blood, afterbirth and such were placed in clay jars for drying and use in the naming day rituals. Healing was tended to and Naddja assured the hunter she would be fine, but needed a few hours sleep. There were supplications to Gonk and Bwonsamdi both, Xiao probably smelling the burnt flesh of the offerings made to the Lord of the Hunt and the Guardian of the Dead.
Vol left the mother of their child alone after about ten minutes, wanting to see as little of each other as possible. She gave him a small box as he left her room, and they spoke no more. He wandered into the Master bedroom, smiling as he placed the small box on a side table.
"Now ah got two treasures, hmmm?"
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