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omgkalyppso · 3 years

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It's 1 AM — happy belated birthday Owain! I wrote some owainigo / laslodin ? Intended as being able to be read as an S support for Laslow and Odin. Written to recognize Inigo as bisexual and polyamorous and Owain as a trans man. Vague about Owain's sexuality because he currently has his sights on Inigo only.

It had been a long time since Laslow had felt like dancing; even recently, he’d wondered if he’d ever want to again, when they’d fallen into Valla and all hope had seemed lost. Yet when Xander had ordered he and Peri enjoy themselves this eve, he’d had a week for his dancer’s garb to be refitted — the clothes he’d arrived in — now matching a soldier’s girth and shoulders. He was not the spritely lad of years past, and wondered whether he looked like a fool.

In the least, the steps were as familiar as breathing, and the melody of the drums was known to his heart, even if the tune wasn’t the same.

His mother — his birth mother, whom he’d only known for such a short time, so much of her dancing was made for battle: relief in victory, love in anticipation, heart in loss. She remembered music of happier times, but those dances hadn’t translated into his tiny feet, so used to the sound of war drums.

He found his dancing riled the spirits of some, who watched or tapped a foot, mimicking a step or two, and Laslow felt further from them than he ever had before.

They were going home. He was going home.

This crowd would only be a memory.

He wondered where he would find himself: would it really be the world left in relative peace where Grima lay sleeping? Or would his intent send him spiraling far and away to the land of memory, nightmares and blight? Would Owain even wish to leave Nohr? It suited Odin Dark so naturally. He seemed happier as a mage, and through magic, his own and discovered, Owain had even managed to mold his chest into a form that brought him joy and comfort.

Inigo wondered whether Owain would hold any apprehension in sharing this version of himself with old friends and family.

Some would say Owain had no understanding of shame or embarrassment, but they’d never read his stories aloud, or seen him as a young bashful man who knew little and less of how to present himself. Still, Owain had grown, had carved himself and the world around him in ways that had secured their victories as of late.

Inigo knew that it was his own insecurities over returning that truly alarmed him.

Meanwhile Severa knew what she wanted. She always had. Her heart might be large enough to reserve pieces for all who showed her kindness and some manner of discipline, but she could never stay away from Morgan and her parents. Her home was known and waiting.

The song ended and he shared a soft laugh with his liege, a man whose trust and generosity he was on the cusp of betraying.

Public celebrations were a favorite of Owain’s. He had learned to handle a crowd, and could often find a group or three to regale with tales of victory, honor and suspense. There were jeers at times, but less when the people were joyous and relieved. Perhaps not all understood the challenges that had weighed upon their liege lords and borders, or their fabric of reality, but they knew strife, and wanted to believe it could be felled by a hero — why shouldn’t he be that.

He’d been shouting over the music for so long, that he’d nearly missed Elise’s voice marveling excitedly, “Hey! Did you know about this? He told me his dancing was a secret.”

While the Xander hushed his sister and they chittered on in silence, Odin Dark also fumbled in his tale, glancing, for a moment, to where Laslow spun daggered discs on his wrists. Owain might have trailed off entirely, and taken the time to watch as much of the performance as possible, whether to jeer or jest or compliment, but Odin had an audience, people who would think him missing or worse in the weeks to come, and so he dove back into an embellishment of the beasts they had defeated. He could watch Inigo dance again. He was sure of it.

The tents were relatively empty when the witching hour came to pass. The masses had retreated to the castles and campgrounds, manor houses and taverns where guests and guards were making due. A flutist was speaking with Laslow, a dancer by his side, correcting his posture, of all things. Owain sat on the edge of a fountain, and watched until his friend noticed, as Laslow turned away, red in his cheeks and upon his neck. He stopped their performance swiftly, seemingly assuring the dancer that he would remember to practice. It put a pinch in Owain’s brow, mournful that he’d spurred his friend toward another broken promise.

“You were watching then?” asked Laslow, spinning a ribbing at his side through his hoops so that they would lay at his hip, jingling.

“Even those whose ears I captivated with tales from the saga of Odin Dark, could look nowhere else!” He chuckled as Laslow sat by his side, shifting slightly, as the costume left little protection against the cool damp stone of the fountain. “If only you’d told me, we might have coordinated our performance!”

“I’d make a poor archrival then,” Laslow teased. “If I weren’t stealing your audience.” He stretched, and Odin watched how the bulge of his belly and triceps marked Laslow for his latest manner of fighting — reserved, sturdy, and strong. “And still, not one enraptured lady to request an encore, nor a single suitor to waylay my evening with a flower or three.”

“Only me,” Odin said mournfully, shaking his head.

“Only you,” Laslow agreed, smirking, and he saw how tired Owain was then, and hoped it was his performance, regaling the public with magic and mystery, but he knew it was the war, the ever present ones they’d fought through. He wondered if he would ever feel so comfortable as to compliment his friend, the growing wrinkles at his eyes, the stubble of his beard, the mouthwatering line of muscle revealed by his boastful outfit. He licked his lips. “My vexatious tormentor. Are you headed to sleep?”

Owain saw that the question had two answers. The first was an affirmative, though he would go to his room and stare at the ceiling, perhaps retreat to the library and spend his last few hours in this realm reading more and more of foreign magic as their time grew short. The second was a negative, and perhaps he and Laslow could find somewhere that drink still flowed, and they could pretend to lose themselves in tankards while he made a show of failing to find them dates and he either made a friend of the barman or annoyed him until they were both ejected into the night. However, something inside him overflowed, and Owain found himself seeking to fight the beasts of trepidation and consideration — perhaps he had already won, and it was their blood that had filled him with their ferocious candor as he asked, “Do you know I’m in love with you?”

Laslow’s eyes blinked wide, lashes casting a flickering shadow across his cheekbones.

“Owa—Odin,” he objected. “You can’t—” He huffed, frustrated, taking to his feet. “We fight against each other with every step.” He hid his eyes in his hands and then slowly adjusted his head as he admitted aloud, “I fight against commitment with every breath.”

“When do we not fight towards a common goal — against the forces of darkness, together?” Owain asked with a small smile, leaning forward to rest his forearms on the insides of his spread knees. “My confession need not change anything between us, it certainly doesn’t mean to change anything about you. My affection has grown even as you’ve found joy and rejection with your strings of lovers. And I’ve found that I can love you — that I do,” he swallowed, “love you. I’m saying it too much now.”

“There is nothing consistent in our lives,” Inigo said, sad and distressed. He wrapped his right arm around himself, squeezing at a shoulder, too muscled to feel right going back into his old life, too scarred to hope that wherever they found themselves in two days time that there would be the peace and family he’d hoped for. “I have gone days feeling as though everything around me is temporary, and others believing that this is what is real and it is me who doesn’t belong. We nearly failed. We—”

He hesitated as Owain stood before him, reaching out carefully to take hold of either of his elbows.

“We didn’t,” Owain said, calm and sure.

Time passed. Neither man could say how much. Patiently, Owain did not force an embrace, but he did rest his temple against Inigo’s, rocking his face towards him as he whispered, “And you’ve had some consistencies in your life. And me in mine.”

He waited longer, breathing deeply while his friend calmed in his arms, and then Inigo was lifting his left hand up to Owain’s hip and the mage smiled, letting his hands creep around the small of Inigo’s back, locking them together. “If I declared that I would dedicate my life to you, very little would change … and I think that’s very telling.”

“I feel good, with you,” Inigo murmured, tucking his face into the curve of Owain’s neck, “but my trysts don’t last and you—” he bit his lips, and as they rolled back into place he felt them pout against Owain’s skin, almost a kiss, “you’re too important for me to risk in a bout of bad behavior.”

Owain snickered. “Are you asking me to make sure you don’t grow bored? I think no matter what awaits us after tomorrow, I can promise it will be interesting.” He tossed his head back, and smiled wider as Inigo admired him; it was a wonderfully new feeling. “Do you think Odin Dark would settle for less? That the tale of the Avengers of Righteous Justice would end here?”

“Avengers?” Inigo repeated, pulling away from the embrace.

“I don’t forget my friends,” Owain assured him, but Inigo continued.

“And, really, I rather hoped that my tale might end. In some manner of the word… I want to rest. I want to feel the relief that these people felt, that our parents felt when their journey was over. To find a stage to dance upon, perhaps a student to apprentice while I’m still young enough to perform.”

“Then we will find it,” Owain said with conviction, his hands on Inigo’s shoulders. “A place where Selena can be a tired old general, or an extension of nobility, where our friends are close, and our families closer still, and where I study all the magic that has ever beset us with worry — that of gods, and dragons, and travel between realms—”

“Is this why you sought to be a mage?” Inigo balked, holding the dips at Owain’s elbows.

“All to keep us safe,” Owain said cryptically, blue eyes flickering with withheld words. “I will work tirelessly to make that peaceful realm you dream of, friend.”

“I can’t expect you to vanquish evil on your own,” Inigo said, a measure of wonder on his face. A puff of air passed his lips, joy and shock and hope twisting his lips first in a frown and then in a smile. “Very well then. Together, this time. We’ll start this tale together, as we’ve always been.”

“Then—?” Owain prompted, hopeful.

“Of course,” Inigo assured him, pulling himself into Owain’s space again, this time to plant a kiss on his warm lips. “I’ve loved you too. You need only look to your side — if you truly wish to take me as I am … then you will always find me here.”

#owainigo #odin fire emblem #laslow fire emblem #owain fire emblem #inigo fire emblem #inigowain #fire emblem fates #fire emblem awakening #fire emblem #i might write smut to follow this up with at some point #i'd hope i did alright on their speech patterns #for friends who are reading my writing but not familiar with the games odin = owain and laslow = inigo and selena = severa #they're going by false names because of travelling through space and time #my writing #i made this #the fanfiction i mean

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