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saphirered · 3 years

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The Wizard and the Warrior

Boy it’s been busy. Double shifts whenever I’ve been free and uni starting again have really been a hassle but I managed to get in some writing so I hope you enjoy this final instalment of the Eldritch Knight series! Was going to split this one in two parts but didn’t work out so sorry for that. Hope you like it! 😘

You didn’t know what to expect when you were pulled through the world away from the homey Xhorhaus but you definitely didn’t expect the sound of waves in the distance and seagulls, the subtile smell of salt water and sand and an ocean breeze to hit you when you reappeared. Upon your vision taking in the new surroundings you find yourself standing under one of the opal archways looking out over a covered market selling all sorts of goods from street foods and drinks to knickknacks and jewellery, merchants calling for the attention of the people strolling about, negotiating prices or shouting their latest discount to pull in new customers. You’re in Nicodranas.

Essek knew he made the right decision when he sees the joy and excitement on your face. His feet tap the ground and he walks instead of floating, not wanting to draw any more attention that necessary and instead just enjoy these moments with you without the possibility of people finding out who you really are. Today you’d just be normal people without the weight of the world balanced on your shoulders. Today you got to be ordinary tourists exploring a city you otherwise never could. Nobody knows you’d be here.

You stroll about the market arm in arm moving from shop to shop and stand to stand inspecting wares, admiring them and listening to the stories the merchants tried to sell you. Both of you knew better and were able to easily distinguish truth from lies but that didn’t mean you didn’t like playing along every so often.

When you reached near the end of the market square the canopies started leaving gaps and eventually disappeared. Essek did his best to hide his winces whenever the sunlight was particularly bright. The sun was setting but it would still be another hour or so until it was fully set and he might have underestimated the brightness of the light. He didn’t let it bother him and pulled through. The slight discomfort is one-hundred percent worth looking upon your face as you bartered with another merchant.

Essek was partially blinded from where he stood while you browsed the wares of a man selling all sorts of curiosities but he couldn’t really move elsewhere without leaving your side or stepping into the path of walking people so he stuck and stayed relying on his hearing instead. You were bartering with the man as he put prices to the things you showed interest in and you tried to get a better price because you were fully aware you could get something similar if not the same for much cheaper. Essek couldn’t do anything but admire your skill and careful navigation of this encounter showing you had not left your wits with your armour back in Rosohna.

Once you got a good deal you bought your findings; a wide sheer shawl more like a thin blanket to wrap around your shoulders as you knew upon nightfall the breeze could bring a chill, a decorated silver bracelet with an inset purple gem that showed silver specks like stars whenever it caught the light just right and something else… Once done you pulled Essek aside into the full cover of one of the canopies and Essek was thankful for the break.

You’d expected Essek to have broken or admitted to his discomfort before when you noticed him wince every time the canopy lifted upon the wind and allowed the sun to bleed through right where he stood. You knew drow senses are attuned to darker spaces and in turn therefor experience a sensitivity to daylight.

“Will you stop being stubborn and just admit when something bothers you?” You say sternly as Essek rubs his eyes to get rid of the dark spots clouding his vision. When he sees the look you give him he bites his lip in shame. Apparently he hadn’t done such a good job of hiding it after all.

“I may not be able to do anything about the sunlight but I can do this.” You take out a parasol of a dark grey almost black colour with ornate lace designs added to it. It does enough to shield those under from the light and should prevent Essek from experiencing downsides of his drow heritage. Before he can protest you link your arm with his again holding the parasol above the two of you and shield yourselves from the light.

“Don’t worry. You can thank me by providing your company over a meal with me until the sun sets and we can go outside again without you burning off your retinas. I know just the place.” You smile as you begin leading Essek away to a different part of the city. You may not be the most familiar with Nicodranas but you know how to get to most places you’ve been before. You know your way from this market square to the Lavish Chateau so you begin leading Essek in that direction.

“There’s a great fish and chips shop on the way near Tidepeak I don’t think that kind of street food is really your style.” You say as the Tidepeak comes into view.

—————

Meanwhile the Nein and Verin stumble out into the teleportation circle room at the Tidepeak. They cracked the code and figured it out based on the list of places Verin had found among Essek’s notes. They knew exactly where Essek was going so it wouldn’t be much effort to find you two right? What harm has a little spying ever done to anyone? Maybe don’t answer that question. They had come for their own reasons be that to watch an epic romance unravel, dig up some dirt to tease or blackmail either of you with, or simply to keep the others in check.

“Shit. Should we have send a message?” Jester panics looking around for the goblin that usually helps them on their way and informs Yussa of their arrival.

“Not again.” Beau exclaims in exasperation. Yes again. And again they explain to Wensforth this is a matter of the utmost importance and expediency and they couldn’t have sent a message beforehand or lost too much time. Wensforth luckily for them didn’t have it within him to question their strange reasonings as he escorted them out of the tower and left the to their business.

—————

Within the Lavish Chateau you found out Essek had made a reservation and the guards and servers seemed to be extremely welcoming and attentive to the both of you for some reason you raised an eyebrow when a top shelf bottle of wine was brought out and left at your table once your glasses were poured and you awaited your food.

“Do I want to ask how you did all this?” You swirl your finger around gesturing to your surroundings. “Because last I was here, not even the daughter of the Ruby of the Sea and her friends get this kind of attendance.”

“Then perhaps it’s best you don’t ask.” Essek smiles proudly.

“How many of the Nicodranian nobility have cleared their debt with the Dynasty or reminded of their indiscretions then?” You ask giving him a look over your glass as you take a sip of delicious wine. Top shelf really is worth it.

“I thought you weren’t going to ask.” You hook your ankle around his from under the table and pull your leg back, Essek briefly loses balance but not enough to throw him off and fall from his seat. He gives you a disapproving and teasing look as you laugh. Food is served and just like everything, it’s perfect. Essek really put in the work to make this all happen and if the sunlight hadn’t thrown you off his schedule you can’t even fantom what else he had planed for your date. Though, he didn’t seem to mind the change of plans a single bit.

Pleasant conversation about everything and nothing all the same, asking questions so trivial you didn’t think Essek would ever even have been capable of being so relaxed and free of responsibility. When it falls silent for a second and Essek catches you staring at him in thought he studies you closer.

“What?” Essek asks as you hum.

“Just thinking?”

“A copper for your thoughts then?” Essek puts his glass down. He doesn’t want to pry or ask out of turn but he is curious as of what got that dreamy expression on your face when you retreated within your own mind for that moment.

“All of them?” You grin.

“If you are willing to reveal them.” Essek returns to your surprise, fully aware of the meaning behind your words and yet he still plays along. These kind of moments are rare with Essek unless you are completely alone so you’ll revel in the fact that he lets go like he does right now and hope you’d be able to see this side more often.

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want you to get all flustered upon my voicing certain thoughts.” You tease, mischievous look in his eyes as he leans in on his elbows on the table and tilts his head amused.

“Then perhaps keep it limited to your most recent ones? For now at least.” You snort and almost choke on the sip of wine you took bur recover quickly. You definitely didn’t see that one coming.

“Oh so he does play the game in public without shame. You are full of surprises today, aren’t you?” You drop the teasing and turn to your observation. “I was just thinking I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so carefree. I’d love to see this side of you more often if you’ll let me.” The teasing drops from Essek’s face and his expression turns into one of genuine affection.

“I’d love nothing more.” Your glasses are refilled as the crowd begins gathering for the performance of the Ruby of the Sea.

—————

The Mighty Nein and Verin follow Jester leading them from place to place on the list but no matter how much they search they can’t find you. Last they heard you were seen buying some stuff from a merchant and then nothing so they had resorted to going down the list until they’d found you but still nothing. Over an hour had passed and the sun long since set, lanterns lit to lead the ways.

They search high and low following the list Verin had found but don’t find you and Essek anywhere. Nicordanas is a big city and turns out finding a buff pretty person and a hot boi drow are a lot harder to find than they initially thought. So, having given up the search they instead turn to a place to drink and wallow in self pity for not spying on the date. Jester knows just the place… No better place than the Lavish Chateau. Maybe her mom will even perform tonight!

When they reach the Lavish Chateau the crowd’s already gathering but with sheer determination and the threatening of some they make it through and find a table, their drinks served as Jester goes off to say hi to her mom before the performance. Then of course Verin and Beau ask about a couple, describing you and Essek having come through here. Instead they’re pointed to a private table out of the direct sight of the entrance but in full view of what is to be the Ruby’s performance space, and if Beau knows anything, a really really expensive bottle of wine shared between the two of you as you sit around laughing and engaging in happy conversation.

As they watch, Essek and you suddenly being the most interesting thing in the entire room they notice a blush creeping up your face as you twirl one of the flowers in your hair returning an equally daring comment of your own, your fingers dancing over the back of Essek’s hand outstretched towards you until he closes his hand and grasps them. You gasp and giggle as he intwines your fingers with his and you making a comment that sends a deep purple crawling up the wizard’s cheeks. The Nein watch, some swooning at the cuteness, the others in surprise and a hint of disgust akin to that of watching your sibling be sugary sweet romantic with their partner you do not want to witness, and the rest like encouraging friends glad their friends have found happiness within each other.

The performance is about to begin and you spot a blue tiefling running down the stairs as quick as she can darting to one of the tables. You already had the feeling you were being watched for the past fifteen minutes but thought nothing of it as since no action was taken yet and the crowd grew, if it were assassins or the likes again, they’d have come for you before as to not make a scene. Getting confirmation your friends had tracked you to Nicodranas and found you here. You’re not surprised but rather impressed and the addition of what clearly looks like a drow soldier of some repute with features similar to Essek lead you to believe this must be his infamous brother he’d been complaining about plenty of times. You move your chair as if to get a better view of the performance to come and sit right next to Essek. You weren’t the only one who noticed them.

“Do you think they know we know they’re here.” Essek leans into your shoulder as he speaks.

“No. Not this time but if you weren’t so caught up in admiring me you’d have noticed them first.” You lean in closer, whispering into his ear as you speak.

“You are quite distracting.” Essek defends with a laugh.

“I’ve seen Beau and your brother gag and complain twice now. Is this the point where we return the favour and give them a show to remember?” You suggest with a glint of mischief within your eyes.

“How could I refuse?” Essek’s word are enough for you to further provoke the Nein and take it up a notch, or several.

“Tell me if something makes you uncomfortable and I’ll stop.” You halt your teasing and allow your tone to turn more serious. Essek does the same when you do.

“Only if you promise to do the same.” Essek doesn’t know if it’s the wine or your shared desire to make them suffer for interrupting your date like they did. Probably the latter. Most definitely the latter. Let them squirm.

The Ruby comes down the stairs singing and everyone hangs onto her every word, her entire being like she’s a siren from the depths ready to lure in hopeless sailors. As her performance continues you move yourself closer to Essek until your sides are pressed together. Essek’s arm wraps around you pulling you close into his side and to your surprise, onto his lap. You lean your head against his shoulder and whisper sweet nothings, as you play with the fingers of his free hand lovingly. You pay attention to the performance, little attention needed for this display of affection as it comes surprisingly natural and unrestrained to the both of you.

You lift your head and lean towards Essek, but an inch away from his lips, making eye contact as you whisper something to him but the Nein can’t hear over the singing and you’re too far away to lip read for anyone. It’s so frustrating but holy hells, they never knew Essek had a romantic bone in his body, let alone the guts to drop his composed and emotionally constipated side completely around you. They definitely didn’t see this coming and even Beau could relate to Jester’s possible ideas of turning this into some kind of smutty romance novel because that’s what it looked like.

When you leaned back, always teasing and never close enough to actually kiss, you watched the performance more. Both you and Essek admired the show the Ruby was putting on. Her song as beautiful as she is but you might have connected with her a little more than anyone else in the room because when she passed your table and saw you and Essek she gave you a knowing smile. A knowing smile that showed she knew exactly when a performance was being put on, the courtesan’s ability to read people shining through once more when she winked at you before she turned around and found her way to the table of the Nein, distracting them from you and pulling the attention to herself.

Essek was surprised and didn’t really know what to make of what just happened but next he knows he’s being pulled away from his seat by you and dragged to a side exit, abandoning the table mid performance. Out in the street you take off running and then it hits him; a moment of privacy. You played everyone, even him in the end when you appeared to have your attention fully on the Ruby of the Sea but instead you had a nonverbal agreement with the woman. Regardless of his thoughts you kept running towards the eastern edge of the city, through the gates and to the beach. Freedom.

The moon and stars and city lights within the walls as your light source you pulled Essek along to the shoreline, laughing your asses off. You’ll have to remember to give Marion a big thanks next time you see her. Once safely away from the city sure you’re far enough away from the city you slow your pace and walk side by side along the beach.

“As clever as ever.” Essek compliments as you bump your shoulder into his with a grin. You offer Essek a hand as you climb over some rocks blocking your path. Essek takes it but instead of climbing he just hoovers over without any difficulty.

“While, I’d gladly take credit I think you deserve at least half. Did you see the looks on their faces?” Your laughter rings like chimes in reminisce of your friends. It’s music to Essek’s ears.

“I could never forget.” You stop and lower yourself onto the sand, gently pulling Essek’s arm inviting him to join. He does and sits down next to you as stare at him.

“Today was a good day. We should do this more often.” You sigh in content. There’s just something about the drow and the starry night sky behind him that makes him look so ethereal, you could look at him for ages and never get bored.

“Being run out of a city by our friends for a moment of privacy?” Essek deadpans and you playfully shove him.

“While it was certainly eventful I think I could do without uninvited company next time.” In comfortable silence you both watch the view. Moon reflecting on the ocean, sound of gentle push and pull of the water against the shore and the thousands of stars scattered throughout the sky giving the both of you a sense of warmth and comfort.

“You certainly found your courage tonight. I never thought you capable of such intimate displays of affection.” You comment and Essek turns his gaze to you. Despite the low light you notice the slight darkening of his cheeks a he takes in a breath.

“I partially blame the determination to push my brother’s buttons.” You snort.

“And the other part?” Essek decides to humour you with and answer even though you hadn’t expected one.

“You, as my partner in crime as some might say, made it easy to put on such a display. Though, I will admit to not being so open and frivolous in my affection with an audience, I did enjoy them nonetheless.”

“Well then, I’m glad my frivolous affection brings you joy.” You say and Essek is about to correct himself for his words but stops when he notices you holding back your smile. You know exactly what he meant and when Essek notices it’s his turn to gently shove you. You gasp even though you’re physically unmoved.

“Aren’y you all courage tonight? Careful now or I’ll toss you into the ocean.” You jest.

“It seems both of us have not been lacking any courage this night.” Essek comments and he’s right. With the antics of the day, and your grand escape, you might never have had it been any other situation. You really did enjoy it and wouldn’t change a single thing. Well, maybe add something but there’s no time like the present so maybe you’ll just ask.

“Then, in a bout of courage, I will ask you this. May I kiss you?” Essek does a double take in case he heard your words wrong but the expression written all over you confirms he has in fact heard you loud and clear. Still he doesn’t miss a beat in his answer. He’s already made up his min.

“You certainly may.” With that you close your eyes and lean in placing your lips onto Essek’s in a gentle kiss. No pretend, no faked lust or intimacy but honest, clear and unrestrained emotion. When you pull away you’re both smiling like fools.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” You whisper as Essek leans in carefully to kiss you this time, lips moving together in a slightly deeper kiss. His hand finds your cheek holding your face lightly caressing a thumb over your cheekbone.

“I could say the same.” Essek speaks when you pull apart for a moment, foreheads leaning against each other. Many more kisses follow, varying from gentle and sweet to passionate and deep, whatever suits your needs. You have no intention of getting off this beach near Nicodranas any time soon nor do you have anywhere to be so here you’ll stay enjoying each other’s company until the sun rises.

From behind the rocks not too far away, eight people watch the wizard and the warrior finally do what some of them had hoped they would in the months they’ve gotten closer. Others are turning away while maybe peaking through at times, solely to see their friends happy with each other despite the chaos of the world but not without going right back to quieting their gagging noises of ‘not wanting to see the people who they consider their family making out’.

“Oh my god! This is going to be so good, you guys. They’re so cute!” Jester whispers already taking notes and working out the story in her head. It’s going to be an epic love tale of two star-crossed lovers for sure. Maybe she can question you on the more spicier details later, get this book to sell at the Chastity's Nook some day?

“Ugh. Let’s go. I can’t watch this any longer. Drinks?” Verin doesn’t resist and follows Beau, Yasha and Fjord back to Nicodranas. Caduceus has a bit more difficult of a time to drag the cleric and rogue away as the latter enabling her actions instead of giving you some much deserved privacy. He succeeds eventually leaving you and Essek behind to enjoy the rest of your night with a smile. Nothing better than people finding their own happiness.

#critical role x reader #critrole x reader #mighty nein x reader #essek x reader #essek thelyss x reader

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raelly-writing · 3 years

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Little Secrets - Thancred/WoL

Post-5.5. Silly little bit of fluff I’ve had lying around in my WIP folder since before 5.3. :)

---

The Rising Stones lay still and quiet as Thancred made his way through its hallways. Not that it was unexpected at this hour - either it was far too late in the night or too early in the morning for many souls aside for the town guards to be awake.

At least the others out in the field had been faring well when he’d checked in with them, despite their less than pleasant task of intercepting any further attempts to bring captives to the towers. Sure, he could have checked in via linkpearl, but after the chaos out in Pagl’than, it’d seemed prudent to get a feeling for the situation elsewhere.

Well, he could convene with Riol and Alphinaud in the morning, Thancred thought as he took the steps up the stairs to the sleeping quarters in twos. Despite his long travel and the late - or early - hour, he felt rather energetic.

Or perhaps it was the thought of slinking into Viana’s room and just catching a few precious hours of sleep with her after several days apart that put a slight spring in his step. Between his time away in Garlemald, and leaving again to see how the situation at the other towers were, he looked forward to the comforting warmth of her body curled up next to his as he slept. In the dark, still corridor, his quiet huff of laughter at himself seemed far louder than it was. It would have been a hard thing to believe once that he’d be eager to slip into his lover’s bed, just for the simple pleasure of sleeping by their side.

Nevermind that there were no fears of entanglement driving him from leaving said bed early, that he was content and secure in this bond between them that kept him by her side - that he could allow himself to have this simple happiness in his life, despite those moments where he felt it was something he had not yet earned, and those familiar, dark voices whispered to him that she would one day realise that he was not fit for her.

With a shake of his head, he fished out the spare key she had given him from his inner coat pocket and quietly unlocked her door. Her chamber lay silent as he slipped inside and closed the door behind him, bathed in the low light of the lantern left burning on her desk.

Too silent, in fact.

A small frown creased his brow as he quietly stepped deeper into the room and looked around the ornate Far Eastern wood screen that customarily partitioned off her bed from the rest of the room.

The piles of pillows and blankets were untouched, the covers still neatly tucked in. No one had slept in that bed tonight.

Thancred felt a small but potent pang of disappointment. Most likely she had been called off somewhere on an urgent matter, as was wont to happen.

Well, there was nothing to be done about it - guess he was sleeping in his own bed tonight. Tataru and Alphinaud would tell him in the morning where she’d gone, he was sure. Sighing, he reached out to turn off the lantern, when he caught sight of her gunblade lying on her desk with its maintenance kit beside it. Thancred stopped at once, a curious frown back on his features. Looking around he found her katana sitting on its customary stand and her axe hanging off a pair of hooks on the wall by her wardrobe.

“What the-?” he murmured to himself. She wouldn’t have left without any of her weapons.

Just then, there was the sound of a key turning in the lock, followed by a dull thud as someone on the other side pushed their weight against the door. A pause. Then the sound of it once more unlocking.

“Seven Hells, I swear that I locked-” Viana froze the moment she saw him, her eyes going almost comically wide in surprise.

Thancred’s eyebrows rose as he took in her appearance, the surprise he felt not mitigating the heat that instantly crawled up the back of his neck. A dark leather corset hugged her body, with familiar looking bits of gold jewelry twinkling in the low light like little stars against the dark blue cloth of her dress.

A moment of silence stretched out between them.

Clearing his throat, he smiled and gestured towards her. “Were I to check the hallway, would I find Urianger knocked out and robbed off his usual adornments?”

Viana’s shoulders, bared by the cut of the dress, sagged when she exhaled. “Funny,” she replied dryly while she stepped inside and closed the door behind her, turning the lock. Tall boots covered her legs, though even in the dim light of the room he could see the tantalising glimpse of bare skin at her thigh.

He tried not to let his eyes linger, but it was hard not to let his gaze wander and soak in her unusual appearance, used as he was to her in full armour or just lighter shirts and trousers. This was… extravagant, by comparison. “People have on occasion accused me of such feats,” he quipped.

Pausing, she gave him a shy, uncertain look while still lingering by the door. He was not meant to have seen her like this, he realised. Only once, long ago, had he seen her carry herself in such an apprehensive manner - at the banquet that had been held after the Grand Melee in Ishgard. But there were no crowds of gossiping nobles present now to watch her every move.

Thancred gave her a reassuring smile as he took a couple of slow steps forward. “So, do you mind me asking what this is about?” He had an inkling but...

Viana tensed up, and he nearly told her that she did not have to if so was her wish, but then she sighed and procured from behind her the folded together metal rings that appeared to have been suspended from one of the chains around her waist. “I suppose you’d find out sooner or later,” she said quietly as she took a few steps to close the distance between them.

With a touch of aether, the slender rings flared to life and hovered above her palm - a familiar sight, though hers lacked the intricate decorations of Urianger’s. The bracelets on her arm tinkled when she moved her arm over the astrolabe, her face set in a look of concentration.

Briefly, the room was illuminated by a surge of aether, and then a soothing sensation washed over Thancred, like a gentle whisper of the softest silk over his bare skin that swept away the weariness in his limbs. Rejuvenating magic, tinted with the warm, familiar feeling of her aether.

“I made the mistake of voicing some curiosity about astrology to Urianger while we were dealing with Eden.” The corner of her mouth curled with a crooked smile. “And I fear he took it as a personal challenge to teach me.”

“Ah, a grave mistake indeed,” Thancred chuckled. “Give him an ilm and he’ll take a yalm.”

Shrugging, she eyed the slowly spinning astrolabe with a small, thoughtful smile. “It’s been… interesting to learn though.” Her gaze flickered back to him. “I’ll probably never take this out in the field. I’m barely good enough to heal a minor cut, but I do genuinely appreciate the effort and time he’s put toward this. He’s a good teacher. Very patient with me.”

Thancred’s expression softened. He knew her lack of an education was a sore spot for her, and that she often felt like her non-existent grasp of magical theory made her less of use than the rest of them - that, as per her own jest, her sole contribution to any given problem was to take a beating and punch the issue until it either went away or one of them solved it. Gratitude towards Urianger for taking her under his wing tugged at his heart, along with a content pride in her efforts to learn. Even if Thancred himself thought that she hardly had anything to prove to them, in that regard. She was more than just a weapon. Reaching out, he took her free hand in his and brushed a quick kiss to the back of her fingers, below the rings that adorned them.

“I take it you were out studying the stars then,” he asked, recalling how Urianger would sometimes venture out into the fields of Il Mheg even when the blanket of Eternal Light had made it impossible to see the night sky.

Viana nodded and slipped her hand from his to caress his jaw. The scratch of his stubble made her smile widen a little, mirth dancing in her eyes. “Mm, his balcony has a good view of most of them. Otherwise we go up to one of the towers.”

With another wave of her hand, the astrolabe folded back up and she took a careful hold of it before walking past him to the same low cabinet upon which her katana stand stood. The soft light from the lantern caught on the gold chain hanging down between her shoulder blades. Focusing on it, he saw that another star pendant was dangling at its end, and that another, heftier chain was attached to the band around her upper arm. There was an itch in his fingers to slowly undo each clasp and tie, to loosen the corset hugging her body and unwrap her like a fine namesday gift.

“He’s been teaching me about the various constellations and how to draw on them,” she told him over her shoulder, unaware of how his eyes were following the chains looping around her waist, and the small blue gems hanging from them that sparkled like they were distant stars twinkling in the night sky. “Not sure how successful I’ve been at it though.”

She turned around and his gaze instantly snapped back up to her face. Clearing his throat, he nodded. “I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it.”

Viana shrugged sheepishly. “Perhaps. If nothing else I might be able to apply some of the theory to my gunbreaker barriers.” Her smile turned crooked, as humour sparked in her eyes. “And, I might not stand around and look like I just got clubbed over the head by Titan whenever a discussion turns theoretical in nature about aether balancing and all that stuff.”

“Ah, my dear, you’re hardly the only one who gets turned around by their theoretical debates.”

A soft peal of laughter made her shoulders shake as she walked back to him. “Well, I suppose I have Estinien as company in that regard, for now.” The knowing look she gave him made it clear that she knew he was obfuscating his own knowledge on the field, but instead of calling him out on it she merely leaned down and gave him a light kiss on the cheek. “I’m glad you’re back,” she murmured.

Smiling, Thancred slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer. “I’m glad to be back.”

Viana leaned against him and brushed back his hair from his eyes. “Planning on staying for more than a day, this time?”

Immediately he felt the long journey catch up with him, and with a tired chuckle he nodded. “Unless the gods decide to suddenly turn the world upside down tomorrow, then yes, I am.”

Her smile brightened a little at once. “Good.” She leaned down and he eagerly met her in a slow kiss.

Thancred made a pleased noise at the back of his throat, his heart skipping a beat in joy at being back with her. The kiss was short and sweet, familiar and welcoming in tone.

Almost too short, he felt, when she straightened back up. Peering up at her, he felt curiosity tug at him once more as he thumbed what felt like a star shaped pendant. “Haven’t seen you in something like this before,” he murmured with a smile. “Well, aside from that dress at ser Aymeric’s banquet.”

A blush immediately crept up on her cheeks as she glanced away. “Ah, yes, I... asked Tataru for some more aether conductive gear,” she replied while tapping her fingers against his shoulders in a nervous manner. “Apparently she’d gotten her hands on some new patterns in Ishgard that she wanted to try out. Decided to kill two cloudkin with one rock, as it were.” The tilt of her smile turned a little self deprecating as she shrugged, “Can’t help but feel like her efforts were wasted on me.”

Raising a hand, he touched her chin to urge her to look back at him. Thancred held her gaze and let the levity drop from his voice when he responded, “You look stunning, darling.”

Viana’s eyes widened a fraction before her expression settled back into a bashful look. “Not exactly my usual style,” she murmured, her tone uncertain. “It seems a bit… frivolous, compared to my normal clothes.”

“Nothing wrong with a little frivolity, if that’s what you are in the mood for,” Thancred mused.

She pursed her lips with a thoughtful look, before leaning down and pressing another quick kiss to his mouth. “Well, thoughts for a later time I suppose. Mind helping me out of this?”

“Mm, that would be my pleasure,” he replied with a grin and gave her waist a squeeze.

#Thancred #Thancred Waters #ffxiv #thancred x wol #really just wanted to finish up something for myself today #My writing

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theatresweetheart · 4 years

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A Dragon’s Prince

Part Two

Warnings: Kidnapping, fear. (I think that’s it, but let me know!)

Pairings: Platonic Prinxiety

Characters: Virgil, Roman

Word Count: 1613 words

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It had been about a day since the prince had been nicked directly from the castle gardens.

The ground had disappeared under his feet, guards shouting curses and drawing their weapons, his crown toppling from his brow and hitting the ground.

His legs kicking the air uselessly, trying to find a way out of the dragon’s claws and drop back to the ground. Though the higher he had been taken, the more Virgil realized he really didn’t want to be dropped. At all. It would have been a lethal drop. He had, admittedly, let out a pitiful noise at the height and maybe Virgil had been hallucinating with terror at that point, but he could have sworn that the dragon’s talons had closed in slightly more on his arms—only it wasn’t painfully. It was almost like it was trying to prevent him from slipping accidentally.

That and there wasn’t even a chance that the kingdom’s army could do anything without risking the prince a serious injury. They could aim at the great beast all they wanted, but if the dragon made a sudden dip or if they didn’t have a perfect or clear shot, the arrow could end up hitting the royal instead.

A part of him still didn’t truly believe that it had actually happened, but if it weren’t for the large red dragon snoozing quietly in the corner of the cave he was currently sat in, he would be lying to himself.

Virgil had been waiting for the past day for something to happen.

Nothing had happened.

Well, nothing was a relative term he supposed.

He had tried to escape a good handful of times. Each and every time his plans had been foiled and he had been caught in the act. The back of his tunic was scruffed between very long and very sharp teeth (that could very easily tear him to shreds) and heaved him right back over to the same spot on the dragon’s hoard he had been deposited on earlier.

He had just kept doing it, right up until the moment he thought the dragon was truly getting upset with him. That was a boundary he was not willing to push, especially not since his life was on the line. He had stopped trying to escape and eventually just started looking around the cave and the hoard in turn. The dragon had seemed content with that and had finally decided to take a little rest as night began to fall.

So, now Virgil just nervously twiddled with the overly ornate sleeves of his tunic, playing with the golden thread before it began to unravel under his fingertips.

His eyes anxiously flicking back and forth between the giant sleeping fire-breathing lizard and the opening of the cave not thirty feet away. The same opening of the cave that showed a beautiful inky black night sky, smattered with stars. A part of him longed to be back out there, but the other part of him knew that if he tried, the dragon would only manage to nab him again.

The dragon was big, Virgil was not.

But, another part of him suggested, if you make it out and make it back to the kingdom, you’d be far safer there.

Virgil nibbled his lower lip.

Well, the dragon did look like it was out for the night. So, before he knew it, Virgil was pushing himself to his feet on the unstable ground of the dragon’s pile of gold.

Freezing up completely as a few stray coins shifted and slid forward creating slight clattering noises, he waited with bated breath to see if anything else would happen. When the dragon did nothing but shift in its sleep, Virgil took that as his go ahead. The prince’s eyes were locked forward, but would flicker between the dragon and freedom every once in a while.

His pace was agonizingly slow, but if that was what got him out of here, then that was what worked.

He could see the outside right there, teasing him. It was a taunt, sharp as a barb.

Come and get me, your highness, it seemed to whisper, you’ll never make it.

Virgil could feel the cool air brushing against his skin. It felt freer out there, certainly more spacious and away from the fire-breathing menace currently keeping him trapped here.

Slow step after slow step brought him closer and closer to getting back to his kingdom and his people alive.

He knew his brother would not be faring well. He would be sick with worry. The king would have immediately sent out a search and rescue party to retrieve the stolen prince, but they had no leads on his whereabouts.

Virgil wouldn’t be surprised if the royal knights never found him.

If he were being truly honest, Virgil didn’t even know where in the kingdom he was, if he was even in the same country.

The sound of a snort from behind him made his shoulders tense.

It didn’t take a genius to know that he had been spotted. He heard coins clattering to the ground and papers and silks fluttering to the floor. The sound of claws clicking against stone caught his attention just as the rumbling from behind him only grew louder and more prominent. It wasn’t long before he felt the hot breath over his shoulders. Another displeased huff blew his hair forward and he turned to look up over his shoulder and the pale red eyes looking back down at him.

Virgil smiled sheepishly up at the dragon and the dragon’s eyes narrowed, before they rolled.

It was such a human expression, it was almost uncanny.

“Let’s not be too hasty now,” the prince said, taking a step forward to test the waters.

The dragon only leaned down and opened its jaw just enough to snag the back of Virgil’s tunic and heft him off the ground and off his feet once more, as if he weighed nothing. Though, compared to the strength of a dragon, Virgil probably did weigh nothing.

“Oh come on!” He growled, trying to wriggle free. He only managed to get himself twisted around as he swayed back and forth in pace with the dragon’s steps.

The dragon huffed at him, blowing more hot air around his shoulders.

Virgil attempted to kick his legs backward and hit the dragon in the throat. He knew it wouldn’t do anything since its scales seemed to be thicker than a knight’s armour, but it didn’t stop him from trying to cause even the slightest bit of discomfort. “You can’t really blame me for trying can you?”

A low rumbling sound vibrated through him and Virgil took at that at face value, even though he didn’t understand what was being said to him.

“Fine!” The prince snipped, “fine. Whatever, have it your way.”

Virgil wasn’t sure if the dragon could understand him, but either way talking to it made him feel better. As if he wasn’t so alone in this prison.

However, instead of being set back down on the same pile of gold and relics and collectibles, he was settled down into the crevice of where the dragon had been resting beforehand. Before he could make another run for it, though Virgil was a bit too confused by this change to really do anything, the dragon was laying back down and curling completely around him. Virgil was entirely encircled by the dragon itself and there was no hope of getting away from here unnoticed.

He groaned at this, pushing at the dragon’s softer underbelly, trying to squirm free.

The dragon responded to this by stretching out its wing and covering him even more. It curled the slightest bit closer to him, before staying there. It seemed that the dragon knew enough about how small and fragile humans were that it didn’t curl too tight around him.

Virgil gasped in response to that, before relenting. It was putting up a futile fight, he knew that. But still.

“You don’t have to be such a big jerk about it,” the prince grumbled, trying to struggle at least a little bit more. He felt the dragon rumble something around him and Virgil ceased his useless struggles. It wasn’t getting him anywhere anyway. “You didn’t win anything by the way. You’re just being the childish one here.”

The dragon snorted, and this time it almost sounded like Virgil was being laughed at. Was he being mocked?

“Oh, you think that’s funny?” He was given another grumbling response. “Please. You think you’re all that just because you can pick me up and carry me around wherever you want, huh? That’s just being power hungry and I do not appreciate it.”

The dragon didn’t response this time and Virgil took that as a win.

He might be completely trapped like this, but at least it was warm. And it was..kind of comfortable. To be real, it was more comfortable than trying to nap on the piles of cold gold. He was going to have to find some silks or something if he was really going to be here so long.

Virgil could worry about that some other time though. The warmth that was encircling him was rather nice and, the longer he listened to the sounds around him, he oddly enough found himself fairly at ease. The steady breathing from around him, the steady thundering heartbeat from behind him. He felt…safe.

Which was weird. He was probably in one of the most dangerous positions a prince could be in and he felt relatively fine.

As he let his eyes slip closed, he found his mind wandering into a dreamless sleep.

#Brook writes #Ficlet a day #Sanders Sides #Sanders Sides fic #Virgil Sanders #Roman Sanders #ts Virgil #ts Roman #Platonic Prinxiety #Prinxiety #Dragon!Roman #Prince!Virgil #Human!Virgil #TSSides #tw kidnapping #tw fear

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teletraan-meets-jarvis · 3 years

Text

Savior

AO3 Link

Pairing: Commander Thorn x Fem OC (Mayakel Renspou)

Summary: Maya's first night on the job as a cleaner in the Senate building resulted in her being on the receiving end of a Senator's wrath. Thankfully a kind Commander on patrol arrives to defuse the situation.

Warnings: 12+, none really, bit of aggressive language at one point.

Word Count: 1.6k

Author’s Notes: This is the start of a little short series involving my OC Maya and her interactions with the Corrie Guard over the years. As always, feedback is really appreciated, along with reblogs! Thanks so much for taking the time to read.

The air in the grand senate corridors was cool this evening. A regal smell lingering from those who’d graced said hallways earlier that day. The only light source being the flares of bright colours that shone from the city beyond the window, dancing an array of patterns onto the golden decor.

Smooth jazz flowed through Maya’s headphones, keeping her in her own world and breaking the otherwise eery silence of the political capital. Her feet shuffled slightly to the beat as she continued mopping, drawing patterns with the wash solvent as she went.

It was her first night on the job as a junior cleaner for the Senate’s contracted company. She still hadn’t quite got over the shock of finally managing to get herself a good, honest job. This was it, the steppingstone that would help her haul her way out slowly up from the lower levels of Coruscant where she currently resided. It’d taken a lot of dodgy jobs and keeping her head down while continuing to study for qualification after qualification, hoping that one day she’d find that golden opportunity. The one which would lift her to the upper levels where the air was fresher and the people nicer. Well, that’s what she’d heard anyway. Now finally, she was on the way up, the hard work paying off. The job paid well, it was an honest day’s work and, according to her Pantoran colleague, apparently the Senate building had some of the juiciest gossip around. It seemed the Senators forgot that other beings existed in these hallways, leaving plenty of criminalising evidence just hanging in the stuffy air.

Maya chuckled to herself at the thought, still not quite believing it. These Senators were fancy folk who were taught word play and etiquette from birth, surely they had a bit more about themselves to be able to keep their private lives private.

She was pulled from her thoughts once realising that she’d finished her mopping in the corridor. Taking a moment to admire her handiwork with a small smile, she grabbed her bucket and made her way back to the supply cupboard to get the wax needed to make the floor sparkle.

The dirty water in the wash bucket swished and splashed as she lugged it back to her station, still singing away in her head to the music that played from the small datapad, tucked into the leg of her grey, utility trousers.

Still in her own world, she wrenched the door of the cupboard open. The view she was met with however caused her to drop the dirty bucket in shock, spilling its contents all over the floor she’d just spent the last hour cleaning.

Maya’s mind wasn’t focused on the mess though and instead she locked gazes with Senator Liss and one of the core world senatorial aides, who held each other in a rather compromising position, both in various stages of undress. Her brain had shut down from the sheer shock and awkwardness of the situation, leaving her mouth hung open with no words coming out.

The Senator apparently wasn’t a fan of her gawking. He made that abundantly clear once he clocked the cleaning uniform and proceeded to start screaming obscenities at her for invading his privacy. I mean you were in MY cleaning closet, pal.

The onslaught was ruthless as the large man emerged from the small space, backing Maya up until she was stuck between the man’s awful words, his even worse breath, and the ornate corridor wall. “Who do you think you are, you sick, disgusting, lower-level scum.”

“I’m so, so sorry sir, I had no idea. Please forgive me.” She replied, throwing all her effort into backing down and taking the verbal abuse from the renowned Senator.

“I swear they hire dumber staff each and every time. What of it now filth, you going to run to the holonews?” He bellowed, shattering the silence that had descended on the Senate building that evening.

“Sir, please. I’m very sorry, it won’t happen again. I saw nothing I swear.” She pleaded, Kriff she really couldn’t lose this job.

“When I’m through with you there won’t be a planet in the entire galaxy that will hire you, you stupid waste of-”

“That’s enough, Senator.” A modulated voice cut through the tension, pulling the Senator’s wrath away from Maya for a few moments. The man whirled around to stare down the Clone Trooper, who was ironically far taller than him, forcing the Senator to drag his eyes upwards until they were level with the soldier’s dark visor.

The Trooper’s armour was different from the others that usually patrolled the building, he wore white armour with red accents on the upper chest and shins. His helmet was red in the face, adorned with a grey visor. Above the visor two wings were visible either side, their red colour making the images pop against the white plastoid. It was all finished off with a grey Kama which fell to his knees in length, the red piping around the edges pulling the whole ensemble together. He looked like authority personified. Like he could command the attention of any room, as he was currently doing.

“And what of it Clone? Move on, this doesn’t concern you.” He spat out the name like it was bitter in his mouth before turning back to face Maya. However, the Clone Trooper made no effort to leave.

“It’s Commander, sir.” The red and white soldier stated boldly, making her eyes widen at his confidence as he closed in on the Senator. “And my duty is to protect all occupants of the Senate building, including our cleaning staff, and I don’t think being screamed at by a Senator for doing her job was in her contract, do you?” He was standing before the Senator now, his armour-clad form towering over the small man.

“What’s your number Clone, and who is your superior officer?”

“It’s CC-5870 and that would be Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, Senator.” the trooper deadpanned back, nearly making her chuckle. Eventually the Senator backed down, knowing that going to the Chancellor about one Clone was a waste of time.

Grumbling, the large man grabbed his remaining clothes from the floor of the closet and dragged the young senatorial aide behind him, trudging away in embarrassment. Just before the pair departed, the Senator span back round on them both “A word about this to anyone and I’ll end the both of you.” While the power of this Senator was quite strong, neither Maya nor the Commander could quite take his threat seriously as he stood there in his underwear, having lost this battle.

“Of course, Senator. Have a nice evening.” The trooper replied, a clear smirk in his voice, making the man scoff before finally leaving the pair in peace. Maya took a deep breath and wiped away the spittle that had landed on her face from the Senator’s outburst. The Commander looked over to her, his helmet hiding whatever expression his face held. “Are you okay? I know the Liss can be a bit rough.” His voice had softened tremendously. The authoritative tone replaced with a friendly gentleness.

“Uh, thank you, Commander sir. I’m fine.” She replied with a slight smile “I’m so sorry about this. I didn’t know they were in there. I would never want to cause any trouble I-” she started blabbing, panic settling over her mind as the prospect that she could very much loose this job became real. She didn’t know much about armies or their hierarchy, but she knew Commander was a high position and she wanted to make sure he knew it was an accident.

“Hey, hey it’s okay. He’s all bark and no bite, I guarantee he would’ve forgotten your face by the time he’s finished his little affair.” The nice Commander reassured, and she couldn’t help but smile.

“Thank you, Commander. I hope you’re right.”

“You can call me Thorn.” He replied.

“Well, it was very nice to meet you, Thorn. Given the circumstances.” Maya’s small attempt at humour made him chuckle and the sound brought another smile to her lips. Considering the short amount of time she’d spent with this trooper, he seemed to be an expert and making her lips turn upwards.

“You too, Mayakel” She was about to question how he knew her name until she’d clocked the massive name tag attached to her bland, grey uniform.

“Ah, my friends call me Maya.”

“Oh, are we friends now?” Thorn teased. Maya’s eyes widened once again as she started stuttering before the Commander chuckled and assured her, he was only messing with her. “I’d like to be friends.” He left the statement out there, her cheeks beginning to ache as she smiled yet again at the soldier.

“Well, I best get back to work and clean up the mess I made.” She gestured to the dirty pool of water that sat on top of the marble flooring. “Quite the first day on the job.”

“You’re doing better than most.” He said, his tone light. “Well, I hope you don’t get fired.” He raised his hands and actually proceeded to shoot finger guns at her. Finger guns. And this guy was a Commander?

“Gee, thanks.” Sarcasm dripped from her tone as she chuckled at his childish antics.

“See you around.”

Maya felt her cheeks burn as she smiled, having turned her back to the kind Commander who continued his patrol. Despite the evening’s events, should she return back to work the next day, Maya felt confident that she’d at least have one ally in the Senate Building from now on.

Back to Masterlist

#star wars #clone wars #star wars fanfic #star wars fic #clone wars fanfic #clone wars fic #commander thorn #commander thorn x oc #coruscant guard #star wars oc

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godkingsanointed · 3 years

Text

Ok so,little thing I write as a caanan house intro if mine and @jesterrlavorre 's characters where the ones representing the 8th house

The arrival of the 8th house was rather less ceremonies then one might expect from those bearing titles such as "Templar's of the white glass". The lowered shuttle door at first revealed only one figure,swathed in bright white silks and delicate silver chainmail. A woman of average height,warm bronze skin and long pale hair braided and slung over her shoulder, tied off with a blue ribbon. Her eyes and lashes were a piercing white grey,and might have been sinister had she not been beautiful. Her smile was delicate and sincere but the upturn in her brow gave her the air of the perpetually concerned,and she seemed to be nervously fidgeting with the ornate book held under her right arm as she scanned the crowd. After a second she seemed to come to some sort of conclusion with a small nod,turning her head to the side somewhat and throwing some kind of confirmation behind her.

It was at this point the second figure was revealed,like some kind of trick of the light or as if the first girl's shadow had decided to move independently. This one was dressed similarly,though functional and worn leathers replaced useless ceremonial chain. One black and one white rapier hung from opposing sides of her hips,slightly duller and more ashen tinted hands never far from the hilts. All of her in fact,was a little duller in a shadowed way,except those eyes,now piercing terrible and predatory staring out of a face more inclined to perpetual aggravation. It seemed the first girl,the master templar,was unconcerned at being haunted by herself. She in fact seemed to breathe a sigh of relief as her double took their place half a step behind her left side. Her double leaned forward slightly to speak,and whatever was said broke the nerves and the tension on board the shuttle,splitting both faces into an identical grin and stifled laughter. It lit both of them up,the first one seemed to shine and even the shadow seemed to follow suit,for a brief moment *actually* looking identical.

The moment of levity was interrupted by the clearing of a throat in impatience in the crowd,snapping the master templar out of her smile and back to business,chin up and face a picture of professionalism. Her Cavalier (of which the only give away was the weaponry,she seemed thinner and perpetually more exhausted then her necromancer counterpart) seemed to immediately seeth at the interruption,shooting a look of pure murder to the direction of the sound,like her mood had absorbed the darkness from every available shadow all at once. It was difficult to gauge the age of the pair,both seeming so young and so old all at the same time. The first girl was fresh faced and surprisingly vibrant for her craft,though there was a tension in her shoulders and eyes,a background worry that spoke of a lifetime beyond her years of responsibility. The other one wore it more physically,the same height as the sister but slumped a good 2 inches from the sheer weight of whatever it was she carried,the nerves and temperament of a caged animal.

They made their way down the steps gracefully,the setting sun catching them and highlighting how they seemed to flicker around the edges. If you squinted,the first one seemed to fade out just slightly,like she couldn't quite decide if she wanted to remain corporeal or not. Her sister was similar but in the opposite way,like she was desperately trying to blend with her surroundings,unsure where she began and ended. Harrow muttered something to herself about some theory it was due to prolonged exposure to spirits. Once they reached the crowd at the bottom the master templar began her greetings and introductions as Nevaeh Edera,formal and polite but with a warmth not usually present within the pious 8th. She seemed to possess all of the warmth for the two of them,as her Cavalier only remained still and watching by her side no matter if she were addressed or not,seemingly barely keeping back a growl.

"Please forgive my sister-" she smiled,placing a hand on that leather armoured shoulder "-she takes her duties very seriously is all! Isn't that right?" She shot her sister a look that read 'you promised to be nice!',a slight squeeze of her hand and a whispered "se-se!" To get her point across. The Cavalier conceded without much of a fight,sighing heavily as she did so. "...yes. Sedah,second child of the 8th. Cavalier primary." This seemed to be all she was willing to say,going silent again as quickly as she had been persuaded to speak. It seemed her sister didn't mind,bumping shoulders together affectionately as a small smile passed between them. It was at this point it became briefly apparent the aggression was due in fact,to shyness,momentarily eased by her sister's encouragement. She spoke again,finally drawing herself up to her full height. "Let's hurry up already,we have a trial to win."

#the locked tomb #sedah edera #Nevaeh edera

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mermaidmafia-official · 4 years

Text

{PART III: THE BLOODMOTHER}

written by: @bebemoon

outfit ref: i can’t draw to save my life, but i tried ! so, here is ysa’s eros costume for the ball- metal armour chest strap, pearls and gold harness, four diaphanous trains/veils hemmed in white feathers to mimic eros’ wings, golden armlets and thigh band. bow and quiver of arrows for good measure. yoni-out, as promised.

tag list: @interluxetumbra @ayzrules @vampirkaninchen @blubbingbeautifully

[PESTILENCE IS A REDHEAD]

"Cyborée told me what you and Yinmei want to do."

Poppy's jaw was set. She never seemed more like a child, standing there barefoot and fuming after being informed that she was disallowed from attending Greggor's party.

The Bloodmother used her foot to kick aside the tantrum-made wreckage covering the floor of Poppy's bedroom. Splintered wood, ripped bed clothes, down feathers, shredded books, shattered and bloodied glass. Even the brand-new chandelier was hanging by a thread. The entire room was completely destroyed.

Poppy stood amid the chaos with her hands behind her back, an arist displaying her work in a gallery. She, not unlike her dwelling, was in disarray. Her hair was unbrushed, her eyes wild. Her clothes were ripped from being caught up in the swing of a firepoker- which was rested in what was left of the bed.

Ysabelle sighed, her eyes roving the walls now denuded of their golden Chinoise panels. The remnants lay curled and crumpled on the floor. "Do tell," she muttered, distracted.

Poppy tightened her teeth. "You're planning to put me to sleep. Just like Amare."

"Oh, I would never," replied Ysabelle. "If you were unconcious, who would be here to cause me endless inconveniences?"

Poppy died a child. Of course, she had existed well past her teen years, but she was frozen in the mindset of a fifteen year old. She still threw tantrums when she didn't get her way, and whatever she wanted, she took without a moment's thought. Years with the Coven, and Ysabelle felt it was for nothing. Nothing had settled her. Poppy didn't care any more for her sisters than she did Paulette Maminot.

And, with Ysabelle's agedness apparently catching up with her, she couldn't see herself tangling with Poppy any longer.

The girl shook her head. "No, you can't," she said, her voice cracking. "You can't."

Ysa said nothing. Her dark eyes were pinned to a dark red stain on the rug underfoot.

"You can't," Poppy repeated, low. "If you even try, I'll-"

"You'll what?" Ysabelle finally gave her gaze to the redhead, but she did not lift her voice. She turned her body slowly. "I am curious."

The girl looked away, her jaw clenched.

"Threaten me, Popelina?" said the Bloodmother, her voice soft yet unholy. In a blink, she was before the girl, taking her pallid face between her thumb and forefinger. Her nails dimpled the flesh of Poppy's cheeks. "My eyes have seen much and I have faced grotesqueries no one, certainly not you, could imagine."

Poppy remained still, her eyes downcast from the Bloodmother's.

Ysabelle could overlook certain things, but to be threatened by someone she had moved heaven and earth for on more than one occasion, had threatened the survival of her Coven-

It was like being spit at over and over.

"A spoiled brat with the cognitive capacity of a pond leech, I do not fear," said Ysa, and she released Poppy's face, leaving behind a pair of thin lacerations that healed over almost immediately. "Do not forget, I rescued you from under the Shiveleys. And all you have done since to repay me is routinely step out of line."

Poppy's face was pinched with distaste over being handled. She eyed Ysabelle but wisely kept silent.

Ysa turned away, her mind already made up. "You have your wish," she said. "Get dressed."

Though she was not looking at Poppy, she could feel the tension lessen. She said, "You mean, I can go to the ball?"

"Yes, you can go."

Poppy was baffled into a few beats of silence. Then: "Why-"

"Oh?" Ysabelle lilted. "Shall I explain myself to the likes of you?"

With the prospect of a little freedom looming near, all defiance had melted away. The response was quick. "No, Mother."

The Bloodmother went to the bedroom door and knocked to be let out by Zammurad who had been keeping a watchful eye on Poppy over the past few days.

Before Ysa left, she told the girl, "I will send someone to fetch you."

[A LITTLE PARTY]

The night deepened, and the Coven, in all their costumed finery, gathered in the garden to travel as one.

By flight, it would've taken some time to reach Lord Greggor's island. Therefore, the method of travel was a simple step through space and shadow, through a world known only to the half-dead. And, in a blink, where once the Coven of Bilitis House had been standing together in their own frost-ridden gardens, they now stood on a broken stone terrace that was being gently lapped by the night-black Adriatic.

Even over the din of the sea, the sounds of string music and lifted voices could be heard. Beneath the salty air, an unmistakable, redolent scent.

Ysabelle, in the (un)dress of the god Eros, gathered Lia to her side and led the group up a set of ancient steps to a loggia where shadows moved here and there, appearing and disappearing in pairs. Hushed voices tickled the ears of the undead.

Beyond the loggia, the moon lit a courtyard of spindly trees and a massive, ornate fountain where dozens had gathered in mirthy spirit. The smell of blood was strong there, and already much of the Coven was moving away from Ysabelle, drawn towards the fragrant scarlet waters spilling from the mouths of stone fish and the breasts of nymphs, staining the white stone tiers dark. Vampires were swimming in the fountain, splashing in it, screaming delirious in it, unaware of all else around them.

Even Lia, her butterfly wings shivering on her back, was being lured away, but Ysabelle held her close to her side. The blood fountain was nothing, she was certain, compared to whatever was to be found within Greggor's villa.

Once they passed through the courtyard, only Zhang, Poppy, and Pixie remained with Ysa and Lia. The five stepped through a stone archway and into another walkway with worn mosaic floors depicting bloody rituals and bacchic scenes of debauchery, most of which was so perverse as to not be suited for the eyes of...well, anyone. And the awful string music swelled in their ears as they neared a marble terrace with rows of Ionic columns, lit with warm light spilling out from within the villa.

In the light of the lavish villa entrance, a raving cacophony of raised voices and hellish strains met them first, followed by the overwhelming scent of blood. But that was to be expected.

Then the wide open spread of the banquet hall, brimming with warm-lit bodies in outlandish, ancient raiment and one or two wearing comically-costumey minotaur heads (and not much else along with it). Dancing, mostly, but there were quite a few...feasting, as mortals were present. Most of their young eyes were unfocused and wild. Drugged, Ysa guessed.

To the living present, the villa must've smelled terrible.

At the head of the only table was the host, Lord Greggor in the animal-skinned attire of Dionysos. He could not be missed for his girth was not something at which any mortal could survive. Nonethless, he was ivy-crowned and glittering in golden baubles, surrounded by his surviving brides (who were all dressed as nymphs in airy chitons). Two of the women were carrying around amphoras of blood to serve the guests, while another pair bore golden trays of what could only be desribed as "viscera" for their husband.

Ysabelle leaned into Lia so that she could hear her over the noise. "I need to speak with Greggor," she said into Lia's ear. "Stay close to Zhang."

Lia only nodded. Her bright eyes were all over the place, attempting to take the entire scene in.

Zhang, on the other hand, appeared as through she would've much rather plucked out her own eyes than spare a moment to watch over Lia. But she would do it if she had to, at the Bloodmother's behest.

Ysa mouthed a quick "thank you" to her friend before taking hold of Poppy's wrist. "Come," she told the redhead. The music was screeching insistantly now.

"We must greet our host."

[SEND IN THE WOLVES]

As Ysabelle led Poppy through the crowd of revelers, Poppy's head swiveled every which way- her senses pulling her in every direction.

"Why do I have to greet him?" Poppy asked, raising her voice as they slid through a tightly-packed group of Vampires.

Ysa pretended not to hear.

They reached the table, and Greggor spotted them immediately. He chortled, setting his belly into motion, and seemed to have an epiphany. He gave a small hand signal that apparently released his wives from his side for they all stepped away as Ysa and Poppy came forward. The brides left the hall together, tittering excitedly among themselves.

"My Lord," said Ysabelle pleasantly. "Eros greets you."

Lord Greggor regarded her costume and chuckled again. Then: "My Lady is daring as ever."

Ysabelle brought an openly beumused Poppy forward, ignoring Greggor's comment. "Lord, I heard of your recent loss," she said, pressing her hand over her chest to indicate her sympathy. "I wanted to offer mine and my Coven's condolences."

Greggor's grin slowly faded into an expression of profoud wistfulness. "Morbida, you mean," he said on a sigh. "She was...a disappointment. You must know how difficult it is to find true companionship at our age. I suppose we had little in common, but...she never gave me a proper chance. I had to do what I did."

"Anyone who would treat you so poorly deserves their fate," Ysa lied. "If there's anything I can do to help-?"

The corpulent Vampire brightened immediately. "I am searching for someone new, to take Morbida's place in my heart and mind," he said. His beady eyes did skip to Poppy but only for a moment. "If you know of anyone suitable...?"

Ysabelle feigned a little gasp. "It's fate, my Lord," she pronounced, indicating Poppy at her side. "Popelina would be perfect for you. What do you think?"

"Mother," Poppy uttered sharply, clearly panicked. She could not outright reject him. Greggor's ego would not stand for it, especially before all of his peers- there would likely be violent reprecussions if she spoke against him.

Lord Greggor beamed, ecstatic. "Eros indeed. Do you know, I was just thinking the same," he laughed. He beckoned Poppy with his swollen hand. "Come, come, my dear. Come stand next to me. Let us get to know one another."

Poppy hesitated, but helpless, she eventually did as she was told.

Ysabelle regarded the pair with false softness. "A match if I ever saw one," said she, spreading her hands.

She did not intend to give Poppy over to Greggor, she only wished to frighten the girl into better behaviour in the future. Before the night was out, she would perhaps see that some things were worse than being put to sleep for a few years.

Greggor motioned to one of the trays left behind by the brides, and Poppy, indignation colouring her aura, leaned over the table to take up a handful of gore to feed the Lord with her own hands. It was an upsetting scene for anyone to witness.

Ysa turned away as if to leave the table, but Greggor called her back.

He said, "You might want to stay put, my Lady. I have a surprise that I think you might enjoy. My brides are fetching them now."

Out of politeness, Ysabelle remained at the table while Poppy continued to feed Lord Greggor. Surprises, she did not care for.

Across the hall, she could see Lia who was being twirled by a mortal, and by the looks of it, it was not anything the mortal wished to be a part of. She twirled and twirled, her butterfly wings fluttering prettily behind her. Then, without warning, she snapped at his throat.

At the same time, a terrible stench was growing. And there was a sound that would set any Vampire on edge.

Ysa wasn’t the only one to hear and smell it. Almost everyone was craning in the same direction now- towards the back archway the brides had disappeared through earlier.

The music continued on.

And a moment later, the brides were back, but not alone. In a display so strange, Ysa could not have concieved of it in her most diabolical nightmares, the Lord’s cackling brides appeared holding thick silver chains at the ends of which were thickly muzzled Wolves. Five, all together. Restless and tugging at their restraints, but impressively, being tightly controlled by the brides, some of whom were at the reigns of more than one Wolf. The biggest, for instance, seemed to be limping, but was still being held by three women.

The Vampire and mortal crowd responded instantly by backing up, murmuring sharply and cursing among themselves.

“What is this?” Ysabelle demanded.

Greggor bellowed in laughter. “My friends!” he shouted jovially. The music stopped then. “A treat! You see my brides captured these fellows on a hunt- and I thought I might share their triumph with you all!”

A smattering of applause followed that, but for the most part, the Vampires were wary.

Sensing this, Greggor added, “Come, come, my friends. There is nothing to fear- these dogs are wrapped securely in silver! Pathetic, aren’t they?”

Some agreement went around the room.

“Tonight,” sang Greggor, lifting his arms with some doing, “we take the mutts’ heads!”

At that announcement, the Vampires roared with approval. The music and dancing started up again.

The brides went to chain the Wolves in the courtyard so that they could be observed by the guests.

“And how fortunate,” Greggor added to Ysabelle, “to have the fabled Mother of Wolves present for such an important event.”

Ysa watched the prisoner Wolves being paraded through the hall, being hissed and laughed at...

No good would come of this.

#C O M P L E T E #btr #btr: story #fanfan's writing #btr: the bloodmother #btr: ysabelle #please please please enjoy and PLEASE let me know if this messes with anyone's plans #i can change anything needed !

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nicolewrites · 4 years

Text

i apologize for my divinity (it is never enough) - v

wrote too much, guess there’s a part 6 to this now. anyways here’s part 5 and i’m sorry in advance.

Rating: T+ Genre: Angst, Friendship, Family Characters: Byleth/My Unit, Claude R., Dimitri B., the Blue Lions, the Golden Deer Words: 7,090

AO3 | FFN

pt i | pt ii | pt iii | pt iv

v - azure wind

- ~ -

/ great tree moon /

"Bernadetta!" Byleth yells. She doesn't dare climb the hill in the centre because she can smell the oily scent of Edelgard's explosive trap.

Thankfully, Claude has actually listened to her and has directed the rest of the Alliance troops around the sides of the hill, focusing mostly on Empire troops over the Kingdom army. Byleth has cut her own path to the centre of the field and is desperately trying to get the attention of her former student.

Her last shout seems to have done the trick as Bernadetta swings the ballista in her direction and freezes as she realizes that Byleth is the one calling out to her. Previously, Bernie had expressed some interest in transferring to the Golden Deer house, but the transfer hadn't actually occurred before everything went down.

"Professor?" she yelps.

Byleth climbs the first few steps tentatively, holding up her hands so that Bernadetta can see she's not a threat. "This whole platform is rigged to explode. Did you know that?" Bernadetta frowns and her hands tighten on the winch of the weapon. Byleth continues her slow, methodical approach. "As soon as troops get close enough to the centre to put you in danger, Edelgard will give the order and this whole structure will go up in flames."

"She wouldn't!" Bernadetta argues defensively.

Byleth frowns. "Wouldn't she?"

The simple deflection seems to be enough that Bernie realizes exactly what kind of situation she has found herself in. Her grey-hazel eyes widen as she looks around. True to Byleth's words, the Empire troops seem to be avoiding the centre hill and Alliance troops are doing the same thing. The Kingdom, however, is pressing forward toward both the hill and the southern part of the field in a direct path towards the Empire.

Byleth holds a hand out. "Bernie?" she asks. The offer to swap sides is unspoken but definitely received as Bernadetta pulls a lever on the side of the ballista that has it groaning as it jams and becomes unusable.

Bernie gets most of the way across the hill towards Byleth when the explosion happens. There's a loud boom and a crash of flames. Byleth is thrown back, hitting the ground hard and rolling. Her cloak is smouldering faintly, parts of her skin are screaming with pain, and her ears are ringing. She groans and pushes herself up onto her hands and knees.

The hill is in flames before her. Byleth forces herself to her feet, ignoring her screaming burns and muscle pain. Her ears slowly stop ringing as the cacophony of battle returns. Byleth pumps a healing spell into herself and forces herself to approach the hill again.

"Bernadetta!" she screams.

It doesn't take her long to find Bernie as the archer had been thrown clear of the hill in a similar manner to Byleth. Bernie's eyes are closed, but she's breathing. She's badly burned and hurt and Byleth presses her hands to her former student's chest and casts Heal. It is soon enough clear that Bernadetta needs help beyond what Byleth can provide so Byleth stands, looking around wildly.

She presses two fingers against her bottom lip and whistles sharply, hoping that Marianne is near enough to hear her. Thankfully, it only takes a moment for Marianne to break through the fighting to reach her. The Holy Knight doesn't hesitate before giving Bernie a stronger Heal spell.

"Professor?" Marianne looks up after she casts the spell.

Byleth bites her lip and looks around the fighting. "Get her to our medical tent and then get back out there if you can. I need," she trails off as a flash of brown across the sky catches her eye.

Claude, you idiot! she yells internally as his wyvern darts across the still flaming hill into the ranks of the Kingdom soldiers.

"Go," Marianne says firmly. There's a conviction in her voice that Byleth isn't used to hearing from the soft-spoken noble. "If you can save him, do it."

Neither of them are talking about Claude in that moment. Byleth draws her blade and pushes her way into the fray, moving toward where she saw Claude fly.

- ~ -

It's easy enough to follow the trail of yellow-feathered arrows and savage lance wounds through the chaos around her. Byleth avoids Kingdom soldiers where she can and disarms and wounds them when she can't. The Sublime Creator Sword is burning in her palm again and she's breathing heavily. She has to find them before they kill each other.

The wounded cry of a wyvern has her head snapping up. She finally spies Claude's mount just as it flails from a javelin wound in its side. She's too far to hear him from here, but she can see the way Claude thrashes to try to stay mounted, but it's not enough. He slides from the saddle in a horrible mirror of when Byleth herself had struck him down.

Byleth doesn't hesitate as she breaks for where he fell. The javelin shot had been nearly perfect and Byleth knows very few soldiers capable of landing that attack on any wyvern, much less on a talented flyer like Claude. She knows who threw the javelin.

Byleth kicks aside a Kingdom soldier and breaks into what has turned into a small ring around two fighters. Claude is on the ground, his hair half-stuck to his face and his battle attire is ripped and dirty. Dimitri stands three feet away from him with his strong shoulders hunched and his good eye narrowed sharply. Areadbhar is in his hand, pointed towards Claude's chest. Failnaught is a foot from Byleth and nearly 8 feet away from Claude whose only remaining defense is a small ornate hunting knife.

Dimitri turns his hand on the lance and prepares to strike. Byleth screams and lashes out with her blade. It cracks along the spine and snaps around the shaft of Dimitri's relic. She pulls as hard as she can and pulls his aim off just enough the Claude can roll to the left. The head of the weapon sinks into the earth instead of the Alliance leader and Claude springs back to his feet.

"Stop!" Byleth shouts. Her voice breaks on the word and she sprints forward, snapping her sword back as she places herself between her two former students. "Dimitri, stand down," she orders.

He snarls at her. "What kind of monster wears the face of the dead?" He turns Areadbhar in his grip and focuses his attention back on Claude over Byleth's shoulder. Dimitri steps right to move around her and Byleth mirrors him, staying firmly in his way.

"No monster could wear my face," she replies firmly. "Stand down."

There's a moment where a dark guilt flicks across his expression and Byleth thinks she might have a chance, but then there's a whistle over her shoulder as an arrow sails toward Dimitri. He growls and twists, knocking it aside with his lance.

Byleth's head snaps back and she sees Claude has reached Failnaught. The relic glows in his hand as he aims at Dimitri again. Byleth glares at him and steps to her left again so that Claude does not have a clear shot.

"You are not each other's enemies!" she says urgently. "Stop acting like children!"

"If we're not enemies, why did he take me down?" Claude snaps in reply.

Byleth narrows her eyes at him. There's something stiff about Claude's posture that makes his words come out decidedly petty. "He shouldn't have." She directs those words at Dimitri. "And you shouldn't be here. I told you to go after Edelgard."

Claude doesn't reply, but he knocks another arrow. "He's a danger to his soldiers and to ours, Teach. Let me take the shot."

Dimitri growls, low and angry, behind her. "One arrow will not take me down faster than I can take your head off."

"You used to be friends!" Byleth yells, frustrated. She keeps herself anchored firmly between the two of them, even as they circle, trying to get a clear shot. Claude is annoying her, so she turns her gaze back to Dimitri.

He has moved close enough to her that she can smell the musk of the leather of his armour as he towers over her. Byleth steels herself and extends her hand until her palm lies flat against Dimitri's chest. His eye drops to stare into her face. He is warm to the touch and Byleth can feel his heart beat and his chest rise and fall as he breathes.

"Dimitri," she says, much gentler. "The Blue Lions are here. They fight with us against the Empire. Can't we join in that cause and fight together?"

Surprise breaks his stoic expression as she says the Lions are here. His gaze flicks to the sky and Byleth sees what has caught his attention: Ingrid is leading her Alliance Pegasus Corps nearby. Over the clash of battle, when she listens for it, she can hear Annette and Mercedes calling commands for their spells and for Sylvain giving orders to his mounted units.

Dimitri tenses and she knows that he has realized all his old classmates are here and that he has led an army into battle to oppose them. Unfortunately, in her attempts to appeal to Dimitri, she has momentarily forgotten about Claude, but Claude hasn't forgotten about them.

An arrow sinks into Dimitri's left shoulder. The Kingdom Prince snarls and rips it out. Byleth's moment is shattered and Dimitri is back to rage and fury as he turns to face down Claude again. Byleth wants to scream in frustration.

"I told you that you would not be able to take me down so easily," Dimitri says. His voice is low and dangerous and a promise of retaliation.

Byleth looks at Claude. He looks surprisingly smug as he tilts his head to the left, spinning another arrow across his knuckles. "Are you sure?" he taunts.

Dimitri steps toward Claude and falters. His body seizes and buckles. Byleth lunges and catches him around the chest. Dimitri is broad and heavy and the weight of him drags her down into the mud. With trembling hands, Byleth rolls Dimitri onto his back and tries to search for a pulse. She lifts him so his upper body rests against her legs.

"I didn't kill him," Claude says. The Alliance leader looks down at Byleth and Dimitri, his expression mostly neutral, but a little displeased. He holds up an empty vial so Byleth can see. "It's a mild neurotoxin that is designed to shut his system down just enough to knock him out for a couple hours. It'll be like waking up with a hangover," Claude explains.

Byleth sighs slowly and brushes aside a few strands of Dimitri's hair. "I could have handled him," she says. "I could have gotten through to him."

Claude's wyvern screeches above him as it finally returns to its rider. Claude kneels on Dimitri's other side, across from her. His gloved hand comes up to cup her face. Byleth sees the worry and guilt in his expression as he holds her gaze for a moment before he leans away, taking his gentle touch with him.

"I couldn't risk that he would hurt you."

Before Byleth can respond, the low wail of an Empire war horn catches both of their attention as the Empire calls for a full retreat. Claude's lips twitch into a smirk.

"I guess Hilda, Ashe, and Lorenz did their job and took down Her Imperial Highness in my stead."

"Is she dead then?" Byleth asks hesitantly.

Claude shakes his head. He glances down at Dimitri's unmoving form. "I suspect just injured enough that she knows this is a battle she won't win. She'll retreat to Enbarr to recover."

"Your Highness!" a gruff voice calls.

Byleth's head snaps up and she turns to see Dedue in his full plate armour pushing through soldiers to reach them. He stalls several feet back when he recognizes Byleth and Claude kneeling over Dimitri's body. Dedue's hand reaches for the axe draped across his back, but Byleth holds a hand up.

"Dedue, wait! We do not need to be enemies here. Come back to Garreg Mach with us and let us unite against the Empire."

Dimitri's vassal looks troubled as his gaze fixes on Dimitri. "He is alive?"

"Yes," Claude affirms.

Dedue drops his hand away from his axe. "I have seen many of the other Blue Lions here," he admits. "Do they fight with you?"

Byleth smiles and nods. "The whole class."

"Professor!" another voice calls.

Byleth turns and sees Sylvain and Felix pushing through the mix of confused Kingdom and Alliance soldiers surrounding them. Sylvain's horse is nowhere to be seen, but both Kingdom natives seem wholly fixed on the fact that Dimitri is lying in the mud. Another figure pushes through behind them and Byleth is happy to see Rodrigue Fraldarius emerge from behind his son.

He eyes Claude suspiciously, but Byleth gathers that Felix and Sylvain have given him enough information to halt the fighting. "Shall we head somewhere where it is more appropriate for us to speak?" he asks.

- ~ -

/ harpstring moon /

After she meets with Rodrigue, Gilbert, Seteth, Claude and the others, Byleth goes looking for Dimitri. Dedue directs her towards the cathedral and Byleth isn't surprised by this. The cathedral was where he used to sequester himself.

In the aftermath of Gronder, Rodrigue has assumed temporary leadership of the Kingdom forces, especially since many of them come from Fraldarius territory in the first place. Most of the Kingdom has had no quarrel in joining with the Alliance and the Church. Byleth credits much of this assimilation to the former Blue Lions students. They have been instrumental in ensuring both groups get along.

As she walks to the cathedral, Byleth ponders the differences she has already seen this time. Felix tolerates his father's presence, Annette seems less inclined to forgive her father, Rodrigue has lived through the Battle at Gronder Field, Dedue was never gone for five years, and Claude's schemes seem to be working in Byleth's favour as the joint armies plan the next stages of their assault on Imperial territory.

The cathedral is almost completely empty at this time in the evening since most people are either in the dining hall or have retired to their rooms. Byleth's shoes click on the marble floor as she crosses the room. Dimitri is easy enough to spot as soon as she enters. He stands as a lone, looming figure before the rubble where the statue of the goddess used to stand.

"Dimitri," Byleth says quietly as she approaches him.

"Leave," he grunts in response.

She frowns. "I am not going to do that." She expects him to ignore her presence and keep staring blankly like a haunted man.

Instead, he turns toward her, his face grave and troubled. "Then perhaps you'll tell me, Professor, why I keep dreaming of slaughtered men and someone taking a knife that was meant for me."

Surprise washes over Byleth like a wave. Rodrigue had taken the blade for Dimitri last time, but this time there had been no angry Fleche to make an attempt on Dimitri's life. "What?" she asks.

Dimitri clicks his tongue against his teeth and turns away from her. "You've haunted me for five years and yet here you are, aligned with someone else."

"Dimitri, who takes the knife for you?" Byleth presses.

He pauses as if he's unsure if he truly wishes to share his dreams with her. "Rodrigue," he admits.

Byleth inhales sharply. "Is Dedue dead too? Or gone, or whatever. The Lions are fighting with you against the Empire and the Alliance. And I am fighting with you."

Dimitri turns back to her. His gaze is sharper and more defensive now. "Get out of my head," he growls.

How can he remember something that never happened? Byleth murmurs to the hollow part of her chest. Sothis, please! I need you.

As always, the goddess is silent and absent. Dimitri is still staring at her like he's about to reach out and snap half the bones in her body. Byleth grounds herself and reaches up to grasp his face. He tries to flinch away from her touch, but Byleth forces him to look at her.

"Dimitri, listen to me. You are not a vessel for the dead." She swallows roughly and looks him in the eye, trying to steel her expression. "You cannot live only to avenge and carry the wishes of people who are no longer with us."

Dimitri frowns, but he doesn't attempt to pull away from her again. "What do you know of the dead and their purpose in my life?"

Byleth closes her eyes. Sothis, if I have done anything to deserve to borrow your power, let it be for this. Let me show him.

She conjures the image of Rodrigue in Dimitri's arms at Gronder Field. She thinks of Dimitri breaking down in the stables and the words they exchanged that night. She thinks of watching him as a king as he stared out at his people in Fhirdiad. She thinks of Dedue and the other Blue Lions celebrating in the dining hall as she and Dimitri made timid eye contact across the table the night after they took Fort Merceus. She projects the image of the two of them facing down what was left of Edelgard in Enbarr.

Dimitri shudders against her light touch and Byleth feels warm all over. She opens her eyes and sees that she is glowing from the inside out. Her veins are singing with power and she feels a connection to the other life sizzling inside her memories. Dimitri lowers his head until his forehead presses against hers. He breathes deeply and slowly, his good eye closing as he processes.

"What are these images? How can you see this?"

Byleth doesn't know how to respond. She closes her eyes and breathes deeply. Neither of them dares to move. They stand together in the cathedral, Byleth's hands on his face and their foreheads angled together. The position must cause his shoulders to ache, but he utters no protests.

"I am a blood-stained monster. How can there be forgiveness for me in this life?" he asks quietly.

Byleth opens her eyes to find him watching her. "Our forgiveness is not what you need. You must forgive yourself."

"I cannot do that."

"Why?"

His brow creases. "You saw me cut down those soldiers without an ounce of regret. I am a beast that has been leading good men to the slaughter for five years, Professor."

"Those men were not following a beast into battle. They were following the man they want to be their king. You need to live for yourself, Dimitri, not those ghosts that cling to you."

There's a ringing clang through the cathedral as Areadbhar drops to the floor, leaving Dimitri weaponless. He shifts his hands up and touches hers where they sit on his face. "Those images you showed me, are they real?"

Byleth wets her lips nervously. "Not all of them," she says. "But we can change that."

"Your hands are warm, Professor." The admission is startling similar to the words he spoke to her last time. They come as a low, quiet rumble from his chest.

The warmth and power coursing through her body have faded so it is not the divine power he feels, but rather the warmth of the touch of another person.

"Come back to me," she whispers. She slides her hands from his face to his shoulders and applies the lightest pressure that she can.

Dimitri buckles under her touch, shifting so that his arms slide to her waist and his face presses against her shoulder. Byleth holds him and says nothing more.

- ~ -

After his apologies are made, Dimitri asserts his desire to march for Fhirdiad. Rodrigue, Gilbert, and the Kingdom lords seem pleased with this decision, but Claude frowns and Seteth looks nonplussed.

"Fhirdiad?" Claude asks. He leans forward, pressing his hands against the table where the maps of Fort Merceus and Imperial territories are spread. "If we turn and head back now then by the time we attempt to take Merceus, Edelgard will have had time to recover from Gronder. Our only shot at the fortress is if we take it as soon as possible."

Dimitri squares his shoulders. "Claude, you and I have brought my friends and my subjects into this war. I intend to retake my capital with or without your support. The uniting of our troops at Gronder will have damaged the Empire more than you think. She will need more than just a month to refortify her front line. Taking Fhirdiad back removes her power over the Kingdom, further cuts down her forces, and gives us a moral advantage we desperately need."

Dimitri's words seem to resonate with most of the people at the table as there are nods and murmurs of assent to the plan. Claude and Dimitri stare each other down for a long moment before Claude gives a frustrated sigh.

"Fine," he mutters. "But, I'm not planning this assault. I don't know your capital and I am going to be busy revising our plans for Merceus."

With that, Claude pivots sharply and walks out of the Cardinals' Room. Hilda rises from her seat to head after him, but Byleth holds up a hand.

"Stay and talk about Fhirdiad, I'll deal with Claude."

"Shouldn't you be present to discuss command chains, Professor?" Sylvain asks, tipping his head.

Byleth looks at Dimitri who is starting to look more and more at ease the longer he stands in the room. "No," she says. "I trust you all."

- ~ -

Claude is in the library when she catches up to him. Byleth raps her knuckles against the doorframe and he looks up from where he's sitting pouring over a book. He raises an eyebrow at her and says nothing.

"He has a point about taking the Kingdom's support away from Edelgard," Byleth says.

Claude sighs. "I know, and that's why I'm frustrated. It is a good plan, but something I couldn't have done myself. It has to be him."

Byleth sits across from Claude. "What changes with Merceus now?" she changes the subject smoothly.

Claude frowns again. "Well, since we're giving her an extra month to prepare for us, there will be more fortification. She'll be more on edge and expecting a unified assault so there is almost no way that we'll be able to storm the front gates."

Byleth tips her head and smiles. "I guess you'll have to come up with a new scheme, won't you?"

Claude's lips twitch. "I guess so."

He returns his gaze to the book in front of him and Byleth takes a moment to study him. He is tense and there's a layer of exhaustion hidden behind his polished exterior. His hair looks messier than usual today and even the natural tan of his skin doesn't hide the dark circles under his eyes.

"Claude, you need to rest," she says.

He sighs and rubs a hand along his face. "I know, I know, but I can't do that right now."

Byleth reaches over and shuts the book he's reading. She looks at him sternly. "I'm not saying this as your friend. I'm saying this as your fellow commander. If you're tired you'll slip up and we can't afford that." She slides the book towards herself and out of his reach. "Go take a nap or something."

"Friend, huh?" he asks, tilting his head. There's a twinkle in his eyes that has been missing for the last week.

Byleth's ears grow warm, but she doesn't have time to think about the complications of her relationship with Claude–or with Dimitri–right now because they're in the middle of a war. She looks down at the book in front of her and blinks in surprise. It's a text that carries historical accounts of clashes at Fódlan's Throat.

Claude reaches over the pluck the book out of her grasp as he stands. "I'll rest if you do, Teach. You look dead on your feet as well." He walks around the table and pauses to lean down and press a light kiss to the top of her head. "People worry about you."

- ~ -

They take Fhirdiad with relative ease and Dimitri stands before his people with square shoulders. Pride and warmth floods through Byleth as she stands behind him. She embraces him after and her head presses against his chest.

She hears his heart thrum a little faster when she's close and she closes her eyes as some of the weight on her shoulders lifts. Alive, alive, alive, her mind whispers. Alive and beautiful.

- ~ -

/ garland moon /

Since Fhirdiad, Byleth feels as if every war meeting they have is a chess match between Claude and Dimitri. They challenge each other at every decision and it both works in their favour and against them. Dimitri can point out a flaw in Claude's plans, but Claude comes up with some secretive reason to ignore or disprove Dimitri's points. Byleth leaves every meeting exhausted and feeling like a horrible referee.

Finally, five days before they march for Merceus, Seteth pulls her aside and tells her that either Claude has to share the rest of his plan or Dimitri must place enough trust in him that he doesn't need to or the whole thing will fall apart. Their forces' opinions are split between the two leaders and everyone is looking at Byleth to be the mediator. She knows he's right, but she wishes he wasn't.

The next evening, she calls both of them to stay as the rest of her former students leave. They take up positions on opposite sides of the table and Byleth feels like a mediator again. Dimitri folds his arms and waits patiently. Claude's foot taps against the floor and he quirks an eyebrow at Byleth.

She sighs. "Get along or we're all going to die," she says bluntly. "Claude, you need to give us more information than 'we're going to sneak in as Imperial troops'. Dimitri, you need to trust Claude–and me–because, provided we understand all the nuances of it, the plan is solid and there is no storming Merceus head on."

Dimitri's stubborn exterior softens much more quickly than Claude's. "Fine. I admit that the plan has merit, but I do want to know how you're planning on appearing as Imperial reinforcements if we've been marching under the Crest of Flames."

Claude sighs heavily. "Look, I want to tell you everything, but if everyone knows then it ruins the effect and it won't succeed."

Byleth bites her lip. "Then just tell Dimitri. If you two can agree on it, the rest will unite behind you." Both Lords look surprised at her willingness to be left out of the plan. She straightens and nods. "We don't have much time left so this had better work in our favour."

Before she can see herself out of the room, Claude steps toward her. He touches her arm gently and his eyes are warm with pride and affection. The touch is comforting, but it comes across as almost possessive. Skittish from the touch and the intent behind it, Byleth's eyes flick to Dimitri. His expression is neutral, but there's the tiniest bit of surprise evident in his good eye.

Claude notices her unease and instantly retracts his hand. He looks a bit guilty–like he had regretted the action as soon as he had done it–and Byleth steps back hurriedly. She swallows and looks between her two former students.

"Put your heads together," she instructs before she turns sharply and sees herself out of the room.

- ~ -

Almyran forces come to their aid as they storm Fort Merceus. Claude is wearing his trickster smile and Dimitri leads the charge on the front lines without a shred of doubt. Byleth knows that whatever they discussed has united them together and she is proud.

She directs Dimitri and Claude towards the Death Knight and tells them to make sure he has no escape. The rest of her students fight, unified, and Fort Merceus, the impregnable fortress, teeters on the edge of collapse. Byleth has other plans for herself.

She heads straight towards Linhardt. As expected, Caspar heads her off the moment she gets close. Her sword barely manages to deflect his axe aside as he swings against her.

"Professor," Caspar grunts in greeting as he swings at her again.

Byleth ducks under the slow, heavy blow and skirts around him, heading again for Linhardt. "Is this what you want, Linhardt?" she calls to the mage.

Linhardt frowns and sends a cutting burst of Wind in her direction. Byleth rolls to dodge it and then immediately has to deal with Caspar's attack again. She faces him down and tightens her grip on her sword.

"This isn't how this has to end," she says.

Caspar shakes his head and raises his axe. "I've got nothing left to lose, Professor."

"Join us, then. Both of you. You don't have to kill your friends today. You won't ever have to raise arms against a friend ever again."

Her words resonate and Linhardt's next attack knocks the axe out of Caspar's grip. "We're with you," he says and despite his consistently neutral tone of voice, Byleth doesn't doubt him for a moment.

- ~ -

"RUN!" Byleth screams. Her voice breaks on the word, but her voice carries. The troops, Alliance and Kingdom alike, flee desperately from the fortress.

The Death Knight's warning, no matter how strange it was, rings true in her ears as she hastily orders a retreat. Smoke plumes rise from the fort where the first mysterious explosion detonated. Soldiers sprint past her, getting lifts from cavalry and flying units wherever possible. Almyran flyers are even helping Fódlan troops where they can as they make a rapid retreat.

A mage trips in front of her and Byleth grabs the woman by the arm and hauls her back to her feet. She sends the woman off running and looks up desperately. The streak of bright light in the sky is getting brighter and larger and the pit in Byleth's stomach is growing deeper and darker. The retreat seems to be going well enough, but she's terrified there won't be enough time.

A group of foot soldiers are stumbling through a crumbled part of a wall towards her while trying to lift an injured soldier on a stretcher as they go. Byleth runs to them and helps two men through while bearing some of the weight of the stretcher as they move past her. Hooves clip on pavement behind her and Byleth glances back to see Rodrigue dismounting his horse to offer it to more injured soldiers. Rodrigue and Byleth quickly usher the rest of the troops through the rubble together.

"Professor, we must go!" Rodrigue says urgently.

Byleth nods and shoves the last soldier along. Before she can even take another step there is a low, terrible rumbling sound. Hands plant firmly against her side and shove her away from the fort right as there's a blinding flash of light and a deafening boom. She falls to the ground as her vision goes dark and her ears ring from the aftermath of an explosion.

- ~ -

Her whole body aches. Her eyes are closed and her eyelids feel impossibly heavy. There's a dull ringing echoing through her skull and she wants it to stop. She gasps in a breath and tries to get the ringing to stop.

Dimly, in the distance, she thinks she hears someone shouting her name. Her mind stirs as she tries to wake up. A voice calls again, closer this time, and Byleth finally pries her eyes open with a shuttering gasp.

She's lying on a ledge of crumbled stone from one of the bridges around the fort that's precariously broken and nearly crumbling down into the gorge. She lifts a hand slowly to her temple and it comes away red and sticky with her own blood. Byleth swallows and tries to push herself up. She only manages to shift so she's sitting instead of lying before her muscles cry out in protest.

"Byleth!"

This time the shout of her name is much closer and she hears it clearly. She tries to shout back, but her voice comes out a rasp and her head spins. It had been Dimitri's voice that she'd heard and she had wanted to cry out for him, but all she can manage is another strangled gasp and a mangled cough.

There's a rustle of wings above her and a string of curses in a language she doesn't understand. Her neck hurts too much to look up, but she knows that voice too. Byleth slumps against the half-crumbled railing next to her and closes her eyes.

Claude has seen her and Dimitri is close by. She keeps her eyes shut and lets blackness overtake her.

- ~ -

/ blue sea moon /

Byleth spends half of the month before the attack on Enbarr on bed rest. Mercedes and Marianne fuss over her daily, but Byleth itches to be out of her room and walking around freely. Her injuries have healed and the dutiful care of her medics has finally brought her hearing back to full capacity and now she's going stir crazy.

Despite her protests, Marianne and Mercedes refuse to let her out unaccompanied. During one of his visits, Claude had offered to break her out, but Byleth had made a promise that she wouldn't do anything stupid so she had refused. The only thing she enjoys about being confined to her room is that it gives her former students a multitude of excuses to come to visit with her for tea.

Annette and Hilda are two of her most frequent visitors, but she has seen all of her students at least once. Even Felix had come by, though that conversation had been much sadder. Guilt still gnaws at Byleth's stomach when she thinks of the swordsman because Rodrigue had shoved her clear of the blast, but he had not been so fortunate himself. Though Felix and his father had not been particularly close, he still grieved.

Finally, twelve days before the march for Enbarr, Mercedes allows Byleth to go, unaccompanied, to the Training Hall after she promises not to overdo it. Byleth works through all her low-levelled sword drills and then most of her moderate-difficulty ones before her muscles finally start to ache. She drops the training sword back into the weapon's rack and starts stretching where she's sore.

She is just pulling her arms over her head when she sees him standing in the entrance to the hall. Byleth drops her arms abruptly and folds her arms, frowning.

"How long have you been watching?"

"Not long," Dimitri replies. "Mercedes told me I would probably find you here."

Byleth runs a hand through her sweaty hair. "Can I help you with something?"

"I was actually hoping you wanted to spar," Dimitri admits. He walks further into the training hall and unhooks his heavy cloak, draping it along the raised edge of the pit.

Byleth folds her arms. "So you can kick my injured butt?"

Dimitri shrugs. "I've never beaten you before, I don't see why that would change."

Byleth makes a face. "This is my first training day in over two weeks, Dimitri."

Dimitri picks a training lance from the rack. "I'll go easy on you."

That's as much warning as he gives her before he's coming at her, lance levelled at her head. Byleth drops instinctively and darts around him, breaking for the weapon rack. She kicks a sword into her hand and turns to face Dimitri. He has already turned toward her and he tests a light, slashing blow in her direction. Byleth blocks him and spins the sword in her grip, pushing his lance up at an uncomfortable angle.

Dimitri backs off and adjusts his grip to avoid her trap before aiming a jab toward her midsection. Byleth slashes down and hits along the shaft of the lance to drive it toward the ground. She presses a foot along the top of it and leans forward, flicking her sword toward Dimitri's face.

The blade stops just inches before his throat and Byleth smirks. "Easy on me, huh?"

Mischief glimmers in Dimitri's good eye. The lance under Byleth's foot shifts suddenly and she's knocked just off-balance enough that she starts to tumble to the ground. Dimitri curses, clearly not intending to have knocked her straight to the ground. He lunges forward and manages to grab at Byleth, but her momentum is enough to take them both down in a tangle of limbs.

She coughs and rolls onto her back on the stone. Dimitri's body is a heavy weight pressing her against the floor and she pushes at his shoulders until he lifts himself up. He kneels, awkwardly straddling one of her legs, and looks down at her with concern on his face.

"Are you alright, Professor?"

Byleth feels sore, but the heat rolling over her body at Dimitri's closeness has nothing to do with pain. He flushes a moment later and quickly scrambles back, embarrassed at the close quarters interaction. Byleth stays seated on the ground for a moment and pushes her hair back as she catches her breath. She stands and stretches her neck briefly, working out a twinge of pain.

"Still sharp, I guess," she says teasingly.

Dimitri laughs. He picks up his lance and her sword and returns them to the rack. "Still sharp," he consents.

- ~ -

Enbarr is a beautiful city. It is hundreds of old stone buildings in a beautiful scenic location and entirely unfitting for the violent siege that takes it. It is a gruelling last stand taken by the Empire. Petra guards the main gate, Dorothea and the Death Knight are stationed in the city, and Hubert guards the palace gates.

Felix goes toe-to-toe with Petra in a blindingly fast sword duel that eventually results with them both losing their blades and Felix pinning the Brigid Princess to the ground with a quick brawling move. Byleth worries only for a moment before Felix releases her and offers her a hand up and an apparent chance to change sides. Ignatz quickly supplies Petra with a new sword and then the Alliance-Kingdom army gains a new ally in their fight.

Once they're through the gate it is clear how outmatched Edelgard's defensive forces are against the combined might of the Alliance and Kingdom and the strategic minds of Claude, Dimitri, and Byleth. Dimitri doesn't leave her side as they press forward into the city and it feels good to fight alongside him now that he's clear-headed.

Even so, Byleth feels partially responsible for the lack of parlay between Dimitri, Edelgard, and Claude before combat since everyone had been so scattered looking after her and all of the wounded soldiers from the destruction of Fort Merceus. She has an inkling, however, that it wouldn't have gone any better than the conversation in the tomb from back at the academy, so she doesn't feel too guilty.

The final push has Lysithea leading a battalion to rain dark magic down upon the Death Knight, backed up by Leonie and Lorenz while Ashe and Ignatz call a rain of arrows down on Hubert's battalion, leaving the mage himself to be dealt with by the horribly deadly combination of Claude and Dimitri. Dimitri is the one who shows more remorse as Hubert goes down protecting his emperor.

- ~ -

The battle inside the palace is much more a test of their army as dark mages bombard their troops and the giant demonic beasts attack the structure of the palace as much as the troops themselves. When Annette goes down in one hit from one of the massive creatures, Byleth's hands shake terribly as she calls upon her Divine Pulse.

She rearranges her strategy and sends her defensive units first while having her archers pick at the magic corps. The Blue Lions congregate around the demonic beast on the left side while the Golden Deer take on the one on the right. Caspar, Linhardt, Petra, Bernadetta, and Dorothea–who had easily flipped sides when she had recognized her former classmates–take on what soldiers get around the troops.

"Well, shall we?" Claude asks. He gestures towards the final door that separates them from Edelgard and Byleth exhales slowly.

"Professor?" Dimitri inquires.

Byleth straightens and turns the Sublime Creator Sword over in her palm. It's burning with energy and she lets the burn soak into her veins as she welcomes its holy power.

"We face her together," Byleth says.

- ~ -

Edelgard falls and it should be over. The Emperor is kneeling on the floor of her own throne room in front of Byleth who is flanked by Dimitri on her left and Claude on her right. Byleth stares down at Edelgard for a long moment.

"I once thought I could save you from this," Byleth says quietly.

Edelgard doesn't respond. Dimitri is tense at her side and Claude stands motionless but with a hand wrapped around Failnaught. Byleth sheathes the Sublime Creator Sword and kneels in front of Edelgard.

Edelgard's wrist flicks out quickly and the pain is sharp in her stomach, but not unexpected. Byleth doesn't flinch and draws her own dagger. She leans in close enough that Edelgard can hear her whisper, but neither of the Lords behind her can.

"This is for my father and for every person that died in this pointless crusade."

Jeralt's prized hunting dagger sinks into the Emperor's chest and Edelgard draws a last, rushed and pained breath before she tips to the side and collapses. Byleth remains kneeling for a moment longer, her hand still curled around the hilt of her father's now bloody dagger. The pain in her stomach flares around where Edelgard's own weapon had struck.

"Teach?" Claude inquires, stepping forward.

"Professor?" Dimitri echoes.

Byleth inhales deeply and closes her eyes. I did it, Sothis, she whispers to the void in her head. The thought takes the last of the strength she can muster and she feels her body give out and she tips towards the stone floor herself in a terrible reflection of every nightmare she has had about this chamber.

Claude and Dimitri both let out startled cries, but the world goes quiet much too quickly after that.

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writingfromkitchenator · 5 years

Text

Dwalin ~ Ornate

700 Followers Challenge!

Requested by @fentah

Words: 1,622

Warnings: Angst, uncertain ending

Dwalin sat quietly, staring at his hands, lost deep in thought.

The door opens on the darkened room, Balin peeking his head in before shaking his head and looking back at Thorin. “I’ve never seen him like this.”

Thorin looks grave. “There must be something that we can do. We cannot just leave him there to wallow in his own grief and pity.”

Balin sighs, looking again at his brother. “He loved Y/N more than he would ever say Thorin, with her gone…I don’t know if there is way back for him.”

“I only want to know,” Dwalin’s voice came from the room, causing both of them to look around the door. “Why she didn’t tell me the truth.”

“We may never know,” Balin said, entering the room slowly, keeping an eye on Dwalin and noting the several broken items around the room already. “She always kept things close to her chest.”

Dwalin frowns but doesn’t look up, Balin and Thorin sharing a worried glance. “They were s’posed to be old markings, one that didn’t mean anything anymore, things that were in her past that she’d left behind.”

Balin nods at Thorin, who clears his throat slightly and holds out a piece of paper. “Dwalin...they didn’t happen to be anything like this?”

Finally, Dwalin looks up, his eyes red and puffy, but his hand is strong as he takes the paper and his eyes wonder over the intricate pattern drawn.

They watch as his fingers trace it out of memory, his eyes going distant for a moment before he sighs.

“Aye,” He said quietly. “What does it mean?”

Thorin and Balin share another look.

“It’s an old symbol,” Balin started. “From an old bloodline that slowly developed into a…group, of sorts, ones that made blood pacts to each other and wore their marks proudly. More often than not, they weren’t the nicest of dwarves.”

“They were thieves, bandits, marauders, among other things.” Thorin said. “My great grandfather cleared them from Erebor long ago. With her…well, it looks like she’s just one creeping back in.”

Dwalin frowns and shakes his head. “She wasn’t like that.”

“They knew how to act to get what they wanted Dwalin, she-”

“Wasn’t like that.” Dwalin said firmly. “I know Y/N, and while she was rough around the edges, there was nothing that that spoke ill of her nature.”

A silence fills the room for a long moment, Balin and Thorin debating what to say.

“I just don’t understand why she had to go, with hardly saying a word.” Dwalin finally broke the silence, his voice quiet and low, his question hanging heavy in the air.

“We may never know Dwalin,” Thorin said softly. “But…with what’s gone missing lately, we only have to assume the worst.”

Dwalin gaze was dark as he looked at Thorin. “How many times do I have to say that she wasn’t like that? I knew Y/N.”

“Clearly not enough to know why she would leave so quickly.”

Dwalin was on his feet, hands clenched by his side and a retort on his lips when they were all distracted by hurried footsteps along the hall.

Fili appeared, his face flushed. “Uncle, you may want to come take a look at this.”

Thorin frowns at him. “What is it Fili? This is-”

“It’s Y/N,” Fili was already turning on heel and starting back the way he came. “Come on!”

Thorin and Balin stood there shocked until Dwalin pushed his way through, hurrying after Fili, before they followed too.

The hall was a buzz of voices in Dwalin’s ears, but none of that mattered, not until he found you and see what was going on.

His step faltered as he saw you standing proud against a group of guards, their weapons raised; your hand on your sword, but you made no movement to draw it.

Dwalin growled and forced his way through them so as he was standing between you and their weapons. “What do you think you are doing?”

The guards all shared looks.

“Sir, we have reason to believe-”

“You will lower your weapons and that’s an order.” Dwalin growled, the guards hesitating, but he didn’t see it as he turned back to you, quickly taking in your tired expression, even through the calm, he could see that something bad had happened, which was only made more evident when he spotter several bandages sticking through your armour. “Where have you been Y/N?”

Your eyes softened on him and the beginnings of a smile started. “I’m sorry to have worried you my love, but I could not risk anything happening to you.”

Thorin and Balin caught up then, Thorin’s gaze mistrusting.

“Y/N,” He said a little uncertainly. “Would you care to explain yourself?”

You glanced at Dwalin for a moment, something like worry flashing across your gaze, but you held yourself tall in front of the King. “First, an apology is order, King Thorin, it was never my intention for this to go as far as it did. I must also convey that I have sorted the issue and returned what was taken from Erebor.” You nod at the cart that several of the guards had surrounded and were poking at the bags.

“Sort the issue,” Thorin said slowly. “And what was the issue exactly?”

“The Guilded.” You said easily, drawing a few murmurs from the crowd and a knowing look between Thorin and Balin. “What was left of my people, as it were, no doubt you have worked it out by now with the small calling cards that were left behind at each thievery.”

You knew that Dwalin’s gaze was on you, not willing to believe the words you were saying.

“Considering you were banned from Erebor, I find it hard to believe that you worked your way back in so easily.” Thorin said, frowning. “And I find it even harder to believe that you are simply returning what was stolen.”

Your smile was sad. “Trust me, my King, there was nothing easy about it. There were already not many of us left when we caught wind of the return and reclaim of Erebor, and we all agreed that it was time to reintegrate ourselves into our people’s belief and culture, putting who we were well behind us. It seemed, however, something that I sadly discovered once it was far too late, that old habits die hard for some. It took me longer than I would’ve liked to track down those responsible, and even longer to…right the wrong that they have done, hence my prolonged absence.”

Thorin lets out a slow breath. “You understand Y/N, that there are going to be consequences to these actions, that there will be recompense?”

A bow was your answer. “I am ready and willing to accept the consequences my people have caused, because although I was not directly involved, I should have been more careful in how I allowed them to roam your city.”

Dwalin stared at Thorin. “Surely you can’t be locking her away?”

Thorin licked his lips a little nervously. “You need to see how this looks to the people Dwalin, they need to know that they are safe.”

“You can’t just lock her away!” He said hotly. “I will not allow it!”

“Dwalin, we don’t know if the others will return to-”

“There are no others,” You cut in calmly, all eyes returning to you. “I am now the last.”

“Y/N,” Dwalin asked a tense moment. “What are you saying?”

“I did what I had to do to protect those that I love.” You said, not meeting his eye. “And as none of them were willing to change their ways, I had to put an end to it. As leader it was my responsibility to do so. Of those few left in the city, most are already married and have integrated well into Erebor; you will never know the difference and I will divulge no names.”

Silence falls again, the air feeling heavy as Dwalin stared at you, trying to work out how much he really knew you before he looked to Thorin and saw him making a decision.

“Guards, take Y/N to a cell and keep her guarded. I need to convene with the council to decide what is to be done with her.” Thorin said it firmly enough, but his voice was ladened with regret.

“No.” Dwalin said, stepping forward as the guards go to surround you again. “I won’t allow it!”

He only faltered once your hand rested on his arm, bringing his gaze to yours.

“There's no way to stop it.” You spoke softly to him. “I know the consequences of my actions and I am prepared to accept them. Please Dwalin, don’t get yourself hurt for me, that’s why I kept you out of it to begin with.”

Dwalin’s shoulders sink as he sees the honesty and integrity in your eyes and with hardly thinking, wanting to put at least some of the pain in his heart to rest, he took you in his arms and kissed you deeply, uncaring of the watching eyes and bare whispers that followed.

He rests his head on your for a moment, speaking quietly so only you can hear. “From now on, wherever you go, I follow. No matter what.”

You smile warmly at him, even as he steps back to let the guards take your weapons and bind your hands. “I love you Dwalin, no matter what happens, remember that.”

With a feeling of helplessness, Dwalin watched you be lead away. Thorin goes to say something only to be cut off by a dark look, Dwalin turning on his heel and marching back to his room, thinking heavily on what to do next.

#the hobbit #dwalin #dwalin x reader #short #drabbles #700 followers challenge

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timholtorf · 4 years

Text

Undertaker class for the wild west campaign setting

This is another class to go with the Divine Gunslinger for the wild west campaign I'll be doing (I'll post the last one in a bit, that one being the Consoler). Again, if anyone wishes to look it over and give some critiques. @dr-archeville and @feyundead this might be cool to look over for future. And anyone really. Use this in your campaigns and play test it, let me know what you think.

Undertaker

A man stands next to a row of coffins on a dusty street in a town in the Cypress Hills Territories. Dressed in black with a white mask, he watches as two gunfighters square off in the street. He cares not which one wins, his only concern is the aftermath. But he must be ready.

An orc woman stands next to a recently dug grave, inspecting the pile of dirt packed above the coffin. With a hooded lantern attached to her staff, she mutters quietly as she spreads salt around the grave.

A elf with an ornately designed white mask stands calmly as a necromancer sends a small horde of undead creatures toward him. With just a thought, the elf destroys the shambling horrors and then begins to advance on the necromancer, his scythe at the ready.

A tiefling holds her staff tightly, the light from the hooded lantern burns brightly like a beacon. He mask seems to meld with her horns as she draws her pistol and fires at the lich advancing on her, knowing her specially poisoned bullets will cut him deep.

Who'll have mercy on your soul Undertakers have the thankless job of dealing with the aftermath of death. They tend to the graves, putting the bodies in their final resting place. They are the guardians that ensure the dead do not walk once again.

Each town has their Undertaker. Most citizens fear them, giving them a wide berth as they walk down street. Rightly so, as Undertakers often take on a very dark and foreboding demeanor. Dressed in black with a hooded cloak and a white mask fitted upon their face, their left hand holding fast to the staff that has a hooded lantern attached. A scythe is always nearby.

Even with their dower appearance and the rumours that abound regarding them, Undertakers are the first defense against necromancy and undeath.

Grave digger, grave digger, slowly fill my grave The questions arise, just how did you become an Undertaker. It is a thankless job as you may spend much of your life in solitude. Perhaps it was a family tradition? Maybe you were formerly a Consoler who decided that dealing with the dead and ensuring their final rest was important? Whatever the reason, you are now focused on dealing with the dead and ensuring they stay sleeping in their graves.

Undertakers are solitary figures, as stated before. Each town has their own. And for whatever reason, no two Undertakers work together in one location. Some will wander, and when they come upon a town with an Undertaker, each will be cordial enough and even go out of their way to converse, but to the casual observer they can feel the tension between the two. Undertakers seem to know each other, but never call each other by the same name twice.

Creating an Undertaker

First, Wisdom should be your main ability, followed by Constitution.

Class Features

As an Undertaker you gain the following class features.

Hit Points

Hit Dice: 1d8 per Undertaker level

Hit Points at 1st Level: 8 + Constitution modifier

Hit Points at Higher Levels: 1d8 (or 5) + Constitution modifier per Undertaker level after 1st

Saving throws: Wisdom and Constitution

Proficiencies

Armor: All armours

Weapons: Scythe (two handed), Collapsible one-handed scythe

Tools: Herbalism kit, Alchemist's supplies

Saving Throws: Constitution, Wisdom

Skills: Choose two from Arcana, History, Insight, Medicine, and Religion

Equipment: You start with the following equipment, in addition to the equipment granted by your background:

An Undertaker's mask (a) Herbalism kit or (b) Alchemist's supplies.

Leather armour and either (a) a scythe or (b) one-handed scythe.

(a) Explorer's pack or (b) Priest's pack

A hooded lantern attached to a staff. A book of spells

Table: The Undertaker

Level | Proficiency Bonus | Features | Spell slots per Spell Level

1 | 2 | Tool Proficiencies, Spellcasting | 2 - - - - - - - -

2 | 2 | Turn Undead 3 - - - - - - - -

3 | 2 | - | 4 2 - - - - - - -

4 | 2 | Ability Score Improvement | 4 3 - - - - - - -

5 | 3 | Destroy Undead CR 1/2 or lower | 4 3 2 - - - - - -

6 | 3 | - | 4 3 2 - - - - - -

7 | 3 | Resilient | 4 3 2 1 - - - - -

8 | 3 | Ability Score Increase, Destroy Undead CR 1 or lower | 4 3 2 2 - - - - -

9 | 4 | - | 4 3 2 2 1 - - - -

10 | 4 | Acidic Ammunition | 4 3 2 2 2 - - - -

11 | 4 | Destroy Undead CR 2 or lower | 4 3 2 2 2 1 - - -

12 | 4 | Ability Score Improvement | 4 3 2 2 2 1 - - -

13 | 5 | Bane of Undeath | 4 3 2 2 2 1 1 - -

14 | 5 | Destroy Undead CR 3 or lower | 4 3 2 2 2 1 1 - -

15 | 5 | - | 4 3 2 2 2 1 1 1 -

16 | 5 | Ability Score Improvement | 5 3 2 2 2 1 1 1 -

17 | 6 | Salt the Earth, Destroy Undead CR 4 or lower | 5 4 2 2 2 1 1 1 1

18 | 6 | - | 5 4 3 2 2 1 1 1 1

19 | 6 | Ability Score Improvement | 5 4 3 3 2 2 1 1 1

20 | 6 | Raven's Word | 5 4 3 3 3 2 2 1 1

Spellcasting

Your ability to cast spells is neither arcane nor divine, yet both at the same time. An Undertaker only gains access to a set number of spells and can only cast those spells when access is granted to them. They are as follows:

1st Level Bane, Burning Hands, Cure Wounds, Detect Poison and Disease, Hellish Rebuke

2nd Level Darkness, Darkvision, Protection from Poison, Ray of Enfeeblement

3rd Level Bestow Curse, Mass Healing Word, Remove Curse

4th Level Banishment, Blight, Douglas' Hospice Nurse

5th Level Cloudkill, Douglas' Hospice, Insect Plague

6th Level Disintegrate, Harm

7th Level Finger of Death, Prismatic Spray

8th Level Sunburst

9th Level Power Word Kill

Turn Undead

At 1st level, as an action, you present your hooded lantern and speak a curse censuring the undead. Each undead that can see or hear you within 30 feet of you must make a Wisdom saving throw. If the creature fails its saving throw, it is turned for 1 minute or until it takes any damage.

Destroy Undead

Starting at 5th level, when an undead fails its saving throw against your Turn Undead feature, the creature is instantly destroyed if its challenge rating is at or below a certain threshold, as shown in the Destroy Undead table below. 5th - 1/2 or lower 8th - 1 or lower 11th - 2 or lower 14th - 3 or lower 17th - 4 or lower.

Resilient

At 7th level, the Undertaker is resistant to disease gaining advantage to saving throws.

Acidic Ammunition

At 10th level, the Undertaker may combine their knowledge of alchemy with that of crafting ammunition, creating acidic bullets that do an additional 1d4 acid damage. Crafting these bullets takes the proper material components and gold and may create 20 bullets in one day. At this level, Undertakers must choose between shotgun, musket, pistol or pepperbox. Undertakers also gain proficiency with tinker's tools at this level.

Bane of Undeath

At 13th level, the Undertaker gains advantage on any attack rolls against the undead.

Salt the Earth

At 17th level, the Undertaker may salt the earth around the grave of a recently deceased. This action will prevent the corpse from rising or prevents any necromantic spells to raise the corpse..

Raven's Word

At 20th level the Undertaker may transform into a flock of ravens once per long rest. Those within sight of this transformation must make a Wisdom saving throw to succeed or they are feared until attacked, take damage or can no longer see the Undertaker. In this form, the Undertaker cannot attack, but can move as though flying with a speed of 60 feet.

#D&D Homebrew #Undertaker

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johaerys-writes · 5 years

Text

Dorian Pavus x Trevelyan

A World With You, Chapter 5: Brave

The battle of Haven and the appearance of the infamous Elder One does a number on Tristan’s nerves. Who would have thought that surviving an explosion that levelled a mountain, uncovering a Venatori plot, closing a giant breach in the sky and getting knocked out for a few days as a result would only be the calm before the storm.

Read here or on AO3!

**********************************

The trek up to the Temple of Sacred Ashes was as cumbersome as Tristan remembered. Cassandra was hopping up the stairs two steps at a time while he lumbered breathlessly behind her. His knees were practically trembling when they finally reached the charred remains of its gates. He almost laughed at how out of shape he was. A few practice sessions with Blackwall would do wonders for his stamina once he got back.

If I get back, a small voice reminded him. He did his best to ignore it.

The huge tear in the sky crackled and writhed above them, sending jolts of energy up the mark on his hand. Within the few months since the explosion, it had grown from a few fine lines on his palm to a network of scars past his wrist. Solas had said that if the Breach wasn’t closed, the mark would spider its way to his heart until it eventually killed him.

If I even live that long, the small voice whispered again.

He tightened his fists and clenched his jaw as he took a few steps forward. The mages were waiting patiently in their ranks behind him, ready to channel all of their energy to the Breach, but he felt all alone. Just him and it, the crack in the sky that threatened to swallow him whole. He felt rather than heard Solas approach him.

“It is time” he said, his voice low, but full of determination. It was comforting, somewhat, to know that at least one of them was determined. “Are you ready?”

Tristan wanted to scream “no” at the top of his lungs and flee, but he nodded instead. The elf’s eyes grew dark for a moment before he turned to the mages.

“Mages!” he exclaimed. “Focus past the Herald! Let his will draw from you!”

The mark on Tristan’s hand burned, pulsating rhythmically. He felt raw energy racing through it as he lifted it towards the chasm in the sky. It seemed so far away, high above him, but in an instant it felt like he was there, in it, around it, floating between this world and the gaping, horrible emptiness of the Fade. He screamed as it pushed and pulled and erupted in green flames around him, sending jolts of pain through his body.

Then there was nothing.

**************

A shiny bald head was the first thing he saw as he came to.

He was in his bed. Solas was sitting next to him, bent over Tristan’s hand as he examined the mark on it. He straightened his back when he noticed Tristan’s eyelids fluttering, and placed his hand carefully back on the bed. “Good evening, Herald” he said.

Tristan sat up slowly, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked around the room. Someone had tended to the fire, making the hut properly warm for once. There was a jug of fresh water and a cup on the table next to the hearth, which brought to his attention that his throat was parched. As if he could read his mind, Solas stood up and filled the cup with water, then brought it back to him as he sat back down on his chair. Tristan managed to nod in thanks before gulping it down thirstily.

“How long was I out?” he asked, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

“Two days, more or less” Solas replied calmly. “You fell unconscious after closing the Breach.”

Tristan’s heart thumped in his chest. “So… is it over?”

A hint of confusion passed over Solas’s features, but it was quickly gone. “The mark on your hand has stopped growing, as I predicted. That should give us enough time to find out more about it. The sky is scarred, but calm. Many questions yet remain, but the immediate danger has passed.”

“That’s good to hear” Tristan said distractedly as he examined the mark on his hand. It looked like a normal scar running over his skin. Nothing unusual about it. Barely conspicuous. For once, he felt neither pain nor the tingling sensation that he had become accustomed to ever since he got it. It was an odd thought, but it suddenly didn’t feel as strange on him. It was like it was a part of his hand, as surely as his fingers and his muscles were.

“Is the mark troubling you?”

Tristan lifted his eyes to find Solas’s inquisitive gaze on him. He shook his head and glanced at his hand again. “Not really. I’m just thinking…” He let out a long sigh. “This mark feels… almost natural to me. As if it was always meant to be there. As if… all the decisions I’ve made have brought me to this.” He eyed Solas, who was watching him intently. “Do you believe in fate, Solas?”

Solas looked at him, but it was like he was gazing past him, far into the distance. “I believe that each of us forges their own fate. There’s no divine plan, moving the world forward. Of this, I’m certain.”

“You don’t think I’m a chosen one, then? That’s a relief.”

“Every war has a chosen one. A hero.” He fixed his dark grey eyes on Tristan. “I’m curious what kind you’ll be.”

Tristan’s mouth twisted sourly. “Hopefully one that won’t set the whole damn world on fire” he said quietly.

They stayed silent for a while, the crackling of the fire and the commotion from outside the only sound between them. Solas stood up and threw his cloak about his shoulders. “You should join the celebrations for the closing of the Breach as soon as you’re ready. The people of Haven will be expecting you.”

“Of course” Tristan said, his sarcasm unmistakeable. “It wouldn’t do to reduce morale now.”

“No, it wouldn’t” Solas said solemnly. With a last, lingering glance at him he turned towards the door. “So long, Herald.”

***************

After thoroughly stretching his aching limbs and putting on his leather armour, Tristan walked out of his hut. The celebrations for closing the Breach had already begun. Fires had been lit throughout the camp, with plenty of music, food and drink. The sounds of song and jest were carried swiftly through the cold air to his even colder ears. He ascended the wide stone stairs leading to the upper layer of Haven amidst cheers and merry laughter. Everyone was smiling. He hated to admit that it made him feel quite proud. He quickened his step, determined not to get used to the feeling.

With a quick glance around, he easily spotted what he was looking for – a short, stubby fellow with an ornate crossbow slung over his shoulder, a wide grin and more chest hair than anyone had a right to. Varric was holding what was probably not the first mug of ale of the evening, and narrating what was definitely one of his funnier stories from Kirkwall. Sera was laughing heartily, spilling most of her drink in the process, while Dorian was sipping on his wine in between throaty chuckles. His eyes were glinting with keen interest as he listened to Varric’s tale, his glossy black curls catching the amber light from the fire every time he threw his head back in laughter.

Tristan’s steps slowed to almost a halt. Painfully embarrassing memories from when he had last seen the dark-haired mage flashed before him. The urge to return to his hut, tail between his legs, was tempting, but he couldn’t well do that now. Not with so many people staring. The only option was to stand straight, walk towards them, get a drink, and act as lordly and graciously as he could while pretending that nothing at all had happened.

“Blondie!” Varric exclaimed with a wide grin holding his ale mug high up in the air.

Someone shoved a mug of ale in Tristan’s hands as he approached, and soon everyone around him was toasting to him, shouting praises to the Herald of Andraste and his bravery. Tristan took a hearty sip of his ale, intent on hiding the crimson flush on his face behind the rim of his mug.

“Cheer up, Herald. The people love you” Dorian said with a smile after the clamour had died down. “You did save the day, after all.”

“I did nothing of the sort” Tristan said sharply. Then, flinching inwardly at his curt tone, he let his mouth curl in a small smile. “I would hardly call almost being killed by a hole in the sky ‘saving the day’.”

“Brave and modest. I have to say, Herald, you never cease to impress. I wonder what the Chantry historians will write about you.”

“That I was a madman and a heretic, probably. I have a feeling that Brother Genitivi would consider setting his books on fire and diving in a pool of holy water after a brief conversation with me.”

Dorian’s chuckle came out muffled behind the rim of his mug. Tristan’s smile got wider and wider, and soon he was chuckling, too. Varric glanced at them curiously from across the fire as they both shook with laughter. Dorian’s eyes were shining, the golden flecks in them catching the light of the flames when he looked at Tristan.

Maker, but he was beautiful.

The thought came naturally, unbidden, as if it had always been there. It wasn’t a mere observation, like it had been other times, but a profound realisation. Dorian Pavus, Scion of House Pavus, was beautiful, striking, bewitching, in every sense of the word. Tristan wondered that he had not fully realised that before. Oh, he had noticed how attractive Dorian was the first time they had met, and every time he saw him thereafter. But not like this. Never like this. He paused for a moment, vaguely aware that he was staring.

Dorian raised an inquisitive eyebrow at him. “Is everything alright?”

Tristan came back to his senses with a start. “Of course” he said, glancing away. He hastily sipped on his drink, wondering if someone had slipped something in it when he wasn’t looking.

From the corner of his eye he saw Cassandra approaching him. He tried to ignore her, but when she came and stood right beside him, he had to face her.

“Seeker” Tristan said with a curt nod. He noticed that Dorian had made himself conveniently scarce as soon as she appeared.

“Herald” she replied. “Are you feeling better?”

The warm smile on her face surprised him. He wasn’t used to the grumpy warrior regarding him with any sort of fondness. It made her look almost…friendly. “I’m quite alright, thank you.” He peered at the place in the sky where the Breach used to be. The scar that it had left on the heavens was still visible. “The Breach has finally been sealed.”

“We’ve reports of lingering rifts, and many questions remain, but this was a victory. Word of your heroism has spread.”

“Has it?” he smiled. There it was again. Pride. He cleared his throat and looked away, over the campfires. “I wasn’t alone in this. You know how many were involved. Fate put me at the centre.”

Cassandra nodded as she followed his gaze. “You are right. This was a victory of alliance, one of few in recent memory. But that does not change the role you played in it. You were… very brave.”

The admiration in her voice was unmistakable. Had he not been sober, he would have doubted his own ears. He looked at her, and was startled to see the admiration reaching her eyes as well. He smiled at her, and for the first time it was not forced. “Thank you, Cassandra. I-“

The sound of frantically ringing alarm bells made him forget what he was about to say. The music and laughter died down abruptly, and everyone looked at each other, searching for the cause of the alarm. He turned around to look past Haven’s wooden gates and his jaw dropped.

An army, the largest he had ever seen, was marching towards them.

Before he could realise what was happening, Cullen was running past him. “Forces approaching! To arms!”

“What-“ Tristan started, but Cassandra grabbed his arm.

“We must go to the gates!” she said, drawing him forward.

Varric and Dorian ran to his side, the same panicked expression on their faces as he imagined he must have had. “What’s going on?” Varric asked, panting.

“We’re being attacked” Tristan replied, not quite believing it himself. His hands instinctively fell to the daggers hanging by his belt. He ran after Cassandra, Varric and Dorian at his heels.

They pushed their way through the crowd gathered by the gates until they reached Cullen. He was pacing up and down barking orders, the soldiers running wildly around him as they fell into formation.

“One watch guard reported a massive force, the bulk over the mountain” he told them as soon as they approached him.

Tristan shook his head in disbelief. “Under what banner?”

“None” Cullen replied, his voice edged with worry. “No banner, no communication, no demands. Nothing.”

A loud bang on the main gate drew all of their attentions to it.

“What in the Maker’s name-“ Cassandra started, but another bang drowned her words.

“I can’t come in unless you open!” a voice from outside pleaded.

“Was anyone left outside?” Tristan turned to Cassandra, but she just shrugged, confused. Without waiting, he ran to the gates and unbarred them. A young man, his leather armour more than a little dishevelled and his face obscured by a wide brim hat, was standing before him. Several dead bodies of armed men were sprawled at his feet. The daggers in his hands were dripping with blood.

“I’m Cole” he said, panting. “I came to warn you- to help. People are coming to hurt you. You probably already know-“

“What is this?” Tristan stopped him, struggling to make sense of what the stranger was saying. He glanced at the dead men, blood still pumping from their wounds. Their coat of arms was foreign to him. “What’s going on?”

“The Templars come to kill you” the man that called himself Cole replied quietly, his voice suddenly bleak and emotionless.

“The Templars?” Cullen growled as he advanced towards them, making the boy recoil in fear. “Is this the order’s response after our talks with the mages, attacking blindly?”

“I have an inkling they weren’t particularly pleased about it” Dorian said behind them.

“The Red Templars went to the Elder One. You know him?” Cole whispered, drawing closer to Tristan. “He knows you. You took his mages. There” he said, pointing at the mountain range behind them. The Templar army was spilling over the top of the mountain, the neat lines of soldiers covering the ground towards them steadily, like ants. A dark and abnormally tall figure emerged at the summit, leading them. “He’s very angry that you took his mages.”

“Cullen” Tristan said, his stomach tightening in knots. This was way beyond his comprehension, and they needed to act fast. “Give me a plan. Anything.”

*****************

“Take that, you filth!” Dorian screamed as he threw a fireball at a Templar’s face. The latter fell on the ground, writhing. Tristan could actually hear the man’s blood boiling inside his armour. Ordinarily, that would be enough to bring his supper up, but there was no time now to even allow himself to feel sick. Wave after wave of Red Templars were coming at them, swords and axes drawn, teeth bared, eyes glowing red from the red lyrium flowing in their veins. A particularly angry one was almost upon him, and Tristan barely managed to step back in time to dodge his attack. With a quick leap, he found himself at the man’s back, where he plunged both his daggers between the gaps in his armour. The Templar groaned as he staggered and fell to his knees. Tristan raised his dagger to finish him off when an arrow flew through the man’s head, and he fell face-first in the snow.

“I think that’s the last of them” Varric said, looking around from his vantage point on the top of an upturned carriage.

Tristan wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. The snow beneath their feet had turned to red mush. The stench of blood and burnt flesh clung to his nostrils like tar. He placed the daggers back in his belt and made his way towards the last trebuchet. With his hands on its wooden handle, he took a deep breath and pushed for dear life.

“This… is…too hard” he said when it didn’t budge an inch.

“I’ll help” Cassandra replied and grabbed the other side of the handle.

Dorian shook his head as he pulled out a lyrium potion out of his satchel. “I’ll leave this in your capable hands, Seeker. I’m not going anywhere near this cursed apparatus. I think I threw my back out trying to aim the last one.”

“Perhaps you should have taken up Blackwall on that offer to help you exercise, Sparkles” Varric laughed, throwing his crossbow over his shoulder.

“And spend my precious time with that hairy lummox instead of running around the countryside, killing random strangers? Perish the thought” the mage replied, downing the potion.

How these two were able to jest when all of them were on the brink of disaster, Tristan could hardly understand. The trebuchet was finally turned to position, and both he and Cassandra were heaving with the effort. “Everybody stand back!” he yelled. When they were all at a safe distance, he fired.

A loud, crashing noise filled the valley as the large stone from the trebuchet landed on the side of the mountain, causing an avalanche. The cries of the Templars being buried under it was deafening.

“You showed them how it’s done, Blondie” Varric smiled, tapping Tristan on the back. “Let’s go to-“

He hadn’t even finished his sentence when the trebuchet exploded in flames. A huge shadow darkened the sky above them, followed by an ear-splitting screech.

“A dragon?” Dorian breathed. “Was that an actual dragon?”

“More like… an archdemon.” Cassandra was following the beast with her eyes as if she were in a dream.

Tristan’s blood curdled in his veins. If that was an archdemon… did that mean that this was another Blight? Right at their doorstep? Oh, this is wonderful. Just bloody wonderful.

“To the gates!” he yelled, sprinting forward. “Everyone back to the gates!”

They all flew towards Haven so fast, one would have thought they had not spent the better part of the evening fighting off crazed, red-lyrium filled Templars. Cullen was standing at the gate, holding it open. When all of them were safely in, he pushed the heavy oaken doors shut. Tristan bent forward to rest his hands on his knees, gasping for air.

“We need everyone back at the Chantry! It’s the only building that might hold against that… that beast” the Commander said. His forehead was slick with sweat, his breath creating thick, white tufts in the air as he spoke.

Dorian was suddenly next to him. “Let’s go” he whispered, putting his arm around Tristan’s back to help him forward. Tristan straightened up and followed him up the big stone stairs towards the Chantry building.

A muffled scream from a burning hut nearby drew Tristan’s attention. Exchanging a glance, both he and Dorian ran towards it. The wooden building was slowly being engulfed in flames, but the frantic screams and banging from inside made Tristan’s breath catch in his throat.

“They’re trapped inside” he gasped.

Dorian nodded, his brows drawn down in grim determination. He gripped his staff firmly and took a step forward. “Stand back!” he yelled at the people inside. With a flick of his fingers the door exploded, splinters flying in every direction.

Flissa, the innkeeper, was on the ground, and next to her a man. Tristan recognised him as one of Harrit’s, the blacksmith’s, assistants. It was a face that was hard not to recognise, dark haired and bushy bearded, with a scar that ran from the top of his eyebrow to the middle of his cheek. Tristan ran to help him carry Flissa out.

“She’s unconscious, my lord” the man said, his voice choked by the smoke and the flames. “I tried to…”

A loud creak sounded from right above them drowned out his words, and several heavy planks fell around them. Tristan lunged at the man, pulling him out of the way of a wooden beam that fell inches away from him. They both tumbled to the ground, raising a cloud of dust and smouldering ashes.

Tristan’s eyes were burning from the smoke and the dust. “Are you alright?” he asked the man, scrambling up to his feet. The man was simply staring behind Tristan, eyes wide in shock.

Tristan turned around, only to see a mountain of burning wood lying where Flissa had been. His stomach was seized in an icy grip. Like the man beside him, all he could do was stare at what was certainly Flissa’s lifeless body underneath the ruins.

Dorian’s voice stirred him out of his shock. “We have to go!” he shouted, grabbing him and the other man and pulling them outside. As soon as they walked out, most of the hut, or what remained of it, fell down with a loud thud.

Watching the flames and smoke rise high up in the night sky, Tristan thought he was really going to be sick this time.

The three of them ran to the Chantry Building, coughing and wheezing. Chancellor Roderick was at the Chantry doors, helping the injured get inside. His own robe was crimson red, clinging to his body. “Move! Keep going! The Chantry is your shelter” he kept saying, his voice thick with pain. The doors were barred with a heavy steel rod as soon as everyone was inside.

The Chancellor took a step before he collapsed. As if he had emerged from the shadows, Cole caught the old man right before he hit the ground. “He tried to stop a Templar” Cole said matter-of-factly. “The blade went deep. He’s going to die.”

“What a… charming boy” the Chancellor managed to say before his face contorted in pain.

“Herald” Tristan heard Cullen say behind him. He turned around meet the Commander’s solemn gaze. “Our position isn’t good. That… thing”- he grimaced as he said it- “has stolen back any time you might have given us.”

“I’ve seen an Archdemon in the Fade” Cole said, as if talking to himself. “It looked just like that.”

Cullen flinched as if Cole had pricked him with a needle. “I don’t care what it looks like!” he growled. “It’s cut a path for that army. They’ll kill everyone in Haven!”

Cole blinked at him like the Commander was saying the most absurd thing. “The Elder doesn’t care about the village. He only wants the Herald.”

“Why? Why does he want me? What have I ever done to him?” Tristan blurted out, his voice choked with his anger. His heart was beating so hard, his ears were buzzing. His patience was getting thinner by the second.

“I don’t know. He’s too loud. It hurts to hear him” Cole muttered, shaking his head. “He wants to kill you. No one else matters, but he’ll kill them anyway. I don’t like him.”

“You don’t like…?” Cullen grunted in frustration before turning to Tristan. “Herald, there is no way to make this survivable. The only thing that slowed them was the avalanche you caused. We could turn these trebuchets, create one last slide…”

Tristan simply gaped at the Commander, his breath catching in his throat. “To hit the enemy, we’d bury Haven. And us with it.“

“We’re dying, but we can decide how. Many don’t get that choice.” The Commander’s brows were furrowed, his lips a tight line. He really looked like a man who was ready to die, who had made amends with the possibility long ago.

Fear slithered up Tristan’s spine, its icy tentacles freezing him to the core. He regarded Cullen levelly, trying as hard as he could to keep his voice steady. “We can’t go down like this, Cullen. Not without a fight. There’s got to be another way.”

A faint cough came from Chancellor Roderick’s direction. “There is… there is a path” he whispered, struggling to sit up on the chair. “You wouldn’t know it unless you’d made the pilgrimage, as I have. The people can escape. She must have shown me… Andraste must have shown me, so I could… tell you.”

Tristan glared at the cleric. “What are you on about, Roderick?” he spat, annoyance bubbling inside him. Of all the times in his life he might have needed to hear about Andraste or whatever other nonsense Chantrics spouted left and right, this must have been the worst possible one.

The old man took a laboured breath, and fixed his eyes on Tristan. His eyes had taken on an odd, glazed expression. “It was a whim that I took this path, years ago. Now, with so many in the Conclave dead, to be the only one who remembers… I don’t know, Herald.” He winced at the pain, but he held Tristan’s gaze intently. “If this simple memory can save us…” The man sank back in his chair, placing a bloodied hand at his side.

Tristan turned to the Commander. “What about it, Cullen? Will it work?”

Cullen regarded the Chancellor carefully, who was struggling to keep his eyes open. “Possibly. If he shows us the path. But what about your escape?”

Tristan looked away, his stomach in knots as he tried to force himself to think of something, anything. The Chantry building was full to the brim with injured soldiers, men and women clutching the only belongings they had managed to salvage from the attack, children clinging to their parents, too terrified to even cry. They were all watching him and Cullen, their eyes wide and glittering in the near dark, their breaths bated.

A sudden, violent rage flooded him. That damned Elder One, or whatever he was called, would stop at nothing until he got his hands on him, even if it meant cutting down hundreds of innocent people. Who the hell did that bastard think he was, sweeping in and destroying everything and everyone in his path, as if they were nothing but ants to be crushed under the heel of his boot?

“Never mind me” he heard himself say in a low growl. “Get the people out of here. I’ll find my own way out.”

Cullen’s eyes shone with steely determination. He turned abruptly towards the crowd standing behind them. “Inquisition! Follow Chancellor Roderick through the Chantry! Move!”

Cole placed the Chancellor’s arm over his shoulders and pulled him up. The man groaned as he took a step. His robe was dripping with blood and his face was ashen. “Herald… If you are meant for this, if the Inquisition is meant for this… I pray for you.”

Tristan nodded grimly before he ran to the door. Perhaps, this once, a prayer might actually save him.

***********************

Tristan ran out of the Chantry Building, Cassandra, Varric and Dorian at his heel.

“We have to keep the archdemon’s attention on us if the others are to have a chance” he said, following the path towards the remaining trebuchet.

“Being noticed happens to be a specialty of mine” Dorian said, twirling his staff in a flourish.

Swords hissing and battle cries greeted them as they neared the trebuchets. Without missing a breath, Cassandra drew her sword and leapt into battle. The man approaching her was tall and built like a tree-trunk. With a roar, he lifted his enormous axe over his shoulder and brought it back down to crush her. Stepping to the side with more elegance than Tristan would have ever imagined, she brushed the axe away with her sturdy shield and plunged her sword into his neck. He only made a gurgling sound before he collapsed.

Dorian was hurling spell after spell, laughing maniacally as he watched the Templars disperse in panic, while Varric, situated on the platform of the trebuchet, was picking them apart with his crossbow, one by one.

“Keep them off me!” Tristan told Varric as he ran to the trebuchet. With as much strength as he could muster, he pushed the handle, aiming the trebuchet towards the mountain.

“You got it, Blondie!” the dwarf shouted nocking an arrow. By the time Tristan had finished aiming the trebuchet, only one Templar remained standing. With one swift blow, Cassandra finished him and he fell to the ground with a thud.

“Ready to fire?” she said, placing her sword in its scabbard. Tristan nodded and placed his hand on the lever.

A fireball exploded next to the trebuchet, knocking Tristan on his back. He pushed himself up, looking around him frantically through the thick cloud of smoke. The flapping of enormous wings echoed everywhere around them, but the archdemon was nowhere to be seen.

“The trebuchet is on fire!” Cassandra exclaimed.

Dorian cast an ice spell, quenching the flames. “That should do it” he said, dusting his robes.

“Where is the Archdemon? Can you see it?” Tristan looked around, straining his neck.

“I can’t see it, but I can hear it. And it doesn’t sound good” Varric said.

The earth trembled with the thundering roar, and Tristan finally spotted the beast. It was flying right above them, circling them slowly when it stopped abruptly and prepared to dive towards them.

“Run” he muttered under his breath as he took a step back. “Move! Now!” he yelled at the others, that were staring at the dragon wide-eyed. Tristan’s panicked screams shook them out of their daze, and they started running towards the Chantry. Sprinting after them, he stole a glance at the fiend over his shoulder. Suddenly, he found himself face-first in the snow when he tripped on a rock.

“Herald!” Dorian shouted and turned back to help him. With a sharp wave, Tristan stopped him.

“Go! Run!” he said, pushing himself up. Dorian stared at him, unmoving. “Just go!” Tristan shouted desperately at him, arms flailing. Finally, with a pained grimace, Dorian turned around and followed the others. Tristan stood and watched his form disappear behind the clouds of dust and smoke, wasting precious seconds that he could have used for his own escape. Right then, suspended in a moment that felt never ending, he couldn’t really bring himself to care about that. At least one of them would have a chance to get the hell out of that place.

His tentative relief didn’t last very long. The gust of wind that hit him when the enormous beast landed in front of him pushed him flat on his back. Its eyes, peering at him from under thick, rock-like skin, were glowing like embers in the night.

“Pretender” a deep and raucous voice said behind him. It looked like a man, or what once might have been a man, but its features and body were twisted and shaped beyond recognition, red lyrium crystals sprouting from its abnormally large skull. “You toy with forces beyond your ken. No more.”

“What are you?” Tristan yelled, hauling himself up to his feet. More than fear, he felt anger. Hot, burning anger, directed at the cause of all this pain and destruction. “Why are you doing this?”

The creature took a step forward, its long, spindly legs crushing the snow and ice beneath him. “Exalt the Elder One. The will that is Corypheus.” He lifted a bony arm, and pointed a long and sharp claw at Tristan. “I am here for the Anchor that you have stolen. The process of removing it begins now.”

**************

The trebuchet fired with a loud, thunderous crash. Before drowning in a sea of white, Tristan remarked absently that being brave was perhaps a little overrated.

#dorian pavus #dorian pavus fic #dorian x trevelyan #dorian x inquisitor #dragon age #dragon age fanfiction #dragon age inquisition #dorian x tristan #dorian x tristan trevelyan #a world with you #johaerys writes

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imagine-loki · 6 years

Text

Unofferable, Part II

TITLE: Unofferable, Part II

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 9, Exiled AUTHOR: unofferable-fic ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine courting Loki in secret for a number of years. While you’re both more than happy with the arrangement and are genuinely in love, you can never make your relationship public because of your status as a mortal servant.

RATING: M

NOTES/WARNINGS: Angst, language, violence, Odin’s bad parenting. Playlist: “Weapons Drawn” — Brad Derrick, “Mood” — Porches, “Arrival of the Birds” — The Cinematic Orchestra, “The End of All Things” — Panic! At The Disco

Of all the events that could have taken place on Jotunheim, a massive fight just had to happen. Ellie couldn’t help but feel like their luck had run out. Firstly, Odin should have stopped them before they even set foot on this barren wasteland. Secondly, Thor should maybe have acted less like his usual rash self, and stopped and thought for but a minute. Perhaps then, she wouldn’t be placing her dagger in its sheath and drawing her bow from her back.

“Keep your distance,” Loki ordered, much like he would order her around in training. “And stay by my side at all times. We cover each other and the others.”

“Of course,” she answered, knowing he was completely in the right. “You’ve my back and I have yours.”

While the Frost Giants immediately swarmed around Thor, he didn’t seem to be struggling at all, happily smashing his hammer into any that got too close, all with an arrogant smirk on his face. Loki was on high alert, throwing knives at any enemies who tried to rush the pair, while she made sure to aim and fire at any Jötunns that came into view, aiming specifically for their necks and and weak spots in their armour. The Warriors Three and Lady Sif quickly readied themselves for battle.

Over the clashing of weapons and roars of the Frost Giants, she could hear Fandral and Volstagg discussing their fight plan.

“Well?” the former asked. “What move, do you think?”

“I say we use ‘The Norn’s Revenge’,” was Volstagg’s reply as he swung his axe at an oncoming Jötunn.

“At this close range? I think ‘The Alfheim Lunge’ is a better move.”

“Maybe if they were three feet tall! No! How about ‘The Randy Valkyrie’?”

Only when Hogun urged them both to shut up did the argument end. He and Sif wasted no time in arming themselves and defending each other with experience gathered over centuries of fighting side by side. Together, the group formed a circle around Thor, who seemed to be having the time of his life.

“At least make it a challenge for me!” he declared, before more Jötunns jumped from the temple walls to descended upon the group, the ground shaking beneath their feet on impact.

With her back to Loki, Ellie heard him yell for her to duck. She immediately dropped to one knee, firing another arrow with a thwish into a distant Jötunn. One of Loki’s throwing knives struck the warrior next to her target immediately after the arrow successfully landed.

“If Odin doesn’t get to Thor first,” she growled, breathing heavily as she notched another arrow and drew back the string. “I’ll wring his neck myself.”

“Get in line,” was Loki’s reply, gritting his teeth as he threw two more knives into nearby enemies, felling them both at once. “And follow me!”

She listened without any hesitance considering they were slowly getting swarmed, keeping an eye out as she backed up to join him behind a massive hunk of rock, not before offering some support to Sif as she struggled with a particularly aggressive attacker. Thankfully, Hogun had her back too.

Safely hidden from sight, Loki waved his hand and duplicates of themselves reappeared within the throng, firing knives and arrows at anyone they could.

“A distraction?” she asked him, trying to get her breath back as the cold air burned her lungs.

“Bait,” he answered, just as one Jötunn charged their duplicates, subsequently running through their transparent form and tumbling off the cliff.

She gave him a nod as he had the illusions disappear. “Nice. If only they could fall for that twice.”

“There are too many of them,” he bit out, quickly checking her over for any injuries before they returned to the commotion. “Are you alright?”

“Perfectly fine bar bein’ mad stressed. Are you okay?” When he nodded in reply, she continued on. “Come on, we should help the others before Thor gets them killed.”

Bow and knives in hand, the couple returned to battle, keeping themselves back to back as they fired at any Jötunns that go too close to the group. Ellie’s arm burned as she launched arrow after arrow, resorting to conjuring new ones when she used up all of the supply she had brought. A cry from Volstagg drew her attention immediately, and she looked up to see him toe to toe with a Frost Giant. Without hesitating, she fired an arrow that struck her target, giving the Asgardian enough time to headbutt it into unconsciousness.

“Don’t let them touch you!” he called out to the group, his arm covered in a massive sizzling black mark, presumably caused by the touch of their ice cold skin.

Suddenly, a barrage of ice bullets came hurling at Sif and Ellie. As quickly as she could, Ellie divided behind the more experienced warrior, knowing that her shield could cover them both. Sif lunged back into battle as the mortal rolled to the side, squatting on the ground as she noticed a massive Jötunn thundering towards her.

“Shit,” she muttered. No time to notch another arrow. One hand grabbed her dagger while the other placed her bow on her back.

“Ellie!” she heard Loki scream from behind her. “Through its legs!”

The closer the giant got, the more the ground beneath her bounced and shook.

Though she was frightened, she knew what Loki would do. She trusted him as she quickly got to her feet and ran directly towards her attacker. As he raised his weapon to fell her in one swing, she leaned back and dived to the ground, sliding straight between his legs. He missed his target and ran right into the Trickster, who stabbed him with a vicious cry.

As Ellie turned to help, she saw the giant fall to its knees and grab Loki’s other arm. Though the slippy ice beneath impeded her speed, she hurried back as fast as she could. The touch of the Jötunn quickly destroyed the armour on his arm, freezing and shattering it to reveal the bare skin beneath. The closer she got, the clearer the picture became.

The skin didn’t burn as Volstagg’s had done.

Instead, in turned blue; the same blue as the very hand that now held it.

She looked up to see Loki’s eyes grow wide as his entire arm painlessly changed colour.

What the—

She faltered, speechless. Even the Jötunn was thrown off. Quickly snapping out of it, she plunged her dagger into the back of its neck, effectively killing it. As Loki returned from his own daze, he kicked the body away from him and held up his arm to get a better look. Again, the blue slowly faded away and it returned to its normal shade. Looking up, he suddenly realised Ellie was standing in front of him. She met his gaze. The first emotion she recognised in his eyes was fear.

“Are you okay?” she asked quickly, watching intently as his arm returned to normal.

“I… I don’t know,” he answered, his eyes never leaving her.

“We have’ta get outta here,” she insisted, gently holding his hand in hers before he could pull away. “First things first. Then we’ll deal with this together, alright?”

After a moment to gather himself he nodded, and no sooner after did they turn their attention back to the larger issue at hand. As if on queue, a strangled scream drew their attention and they looked across the battle to see Fandral impaled on a large shard of ice.

“We can’t beat them!” Ellie insisted as Loki slew a giant behind the injured warrior with a knife. “Sif! We have’ta get him outta here!”

With a nod in agreement, Sif called out to the God of Thunder, who seemed more than happy to stay where he was battering anyone who came close.

As Hogun and Volstagg pulled Fandral off the shards, Loki appealed to his brother. “We must go!”

“Then go!” came the response, as Thor sent Mjölnir flying through as many Jötunns as possible.

“Don’t be an idiot, Thor!” Ellie implored. “We’ll all die here!”

Suddenly, the ground beneath them rumbled, a deep growl drawing Loki’s attention away from his brother. He shoved Ellie behind him and she looked over his shoulder. What she originally thought to be an ornate sculpture of some foreign beast began to move, ice falling from its horned face to reveal angry red eyes. As one of its clawed feet broke free of its confines, Volstagg threw Fandral over his shoulder and yelled out to the others. “Run!”

“On my back!” Loki said to Ellie, briefly squatting down so that she could climb on his back and wrap her arms around his shoulders. It was the only way she would keep up with the group. He stood swiftly, grabbing on to her legs and holding them around his waist as he took off running after the others. He called Thor’s name one more time over his shoulders, but said god was very nearly consumed in a piling mass of angry Frost Giants. The previously still beast suddenly erupted from the ice with a terrifying roar and wasted no time in pursuing them through the rocky wasteland. She thanked God that she weighed practically nothing to Loki, so that she didn’t impede him as they fled for their lives. Though they moved quickly it had no trouble catching up, barrelling through pillars of rock and ice as if they were made of hay. Around them, the world was falling apart, massive slabs of rock and stone falling from mountain sides, and yet even that couldn’t stop the enraged beast behind them.

A foreboding crack of lightening and a flash of light immediately grabbed Ellie’s attention. She turned her head to see lightening striking down for the sky into the plaza — presumably to Thor’s hammer — before the electricity flew out in all directions and felled many of the Jötunns. She would have felt relieved had the subsequent shockwave not trembled the ground beneath their feet. Suddenly, the ice began to crack.

“What has Thor done?” Volstagg called above the racket.

“Likely killed us all!” Loki answered, picking up the pace as the path behind them began to crumble and fall into the abyss.

Behind them, the pursuing beast suddenly stumbled as a fissure opened beneath its feet, and fell with a distant roar. Fandral laughed at the sight, despite the presence of thousands of Frost Giants still running desperately from the destruction. The group neared the very edge of the cliff, and Ellie clung to Loki as they leapt over the forming cracks in the ice.

Upon reaching the end of the line, Volstagg called out. “Heimdall! Open the bridge!”

Nothing. The only response was silence.

She looked around, praying that the Bifröst would suddenly open and take them home.

From the edge of the cliff, a massive claw swiftly rose and grabbed onto the ground at Sif’s feet. The beast they had thought to be slain slowly pulled itself up, its red eyes focused on the entire group. A snarl rumbled through its clenched fangs and Ellie felt Loki’s grip on her legs tighten. It roared, the force of which sent her hair flying everywhere. They were cornered.

“What do we do?” she asked Loki, unable to take her eyes off the monster before her.

“Stay with me,” he replied, his voice wavering as the beast stood on its back legs, but before it had a chance to attack, something huge and red flew through its open mouth and out the back of its head. The group stood stunned as it collapsed to the ground and Thor landed before it. While it sluggishly fell off the cliff’s edge, the prince turned to face his friends with an arrogant grin. Ellie could only stare back at him in disbelief as his smile slowly faded.

The group spun around to see themselves surrounded by thousands of Frost Giants. At the forefront stood Laufey, grinning menacingly as though they were mice caught in a trap.

“Stay behind me,” Loki’s voice said in her head. “No matter what happens, you and I stay together. I will get us out of this, okay?”

The Jötunns descended upon them before they were halted in their tracks by a deafening roar from above. The sky parted and the rainbow bridge shot from a hole behind the clouds. Within the blinding light, a figure flew down and landed beside them with a boom. Ellie blinked and held a hand in front of her face, the immense light burning her eyes. A horse whinnied and the unmistakable silhouette of Sleipnir appeared as the light slowly faded. Atop him sat the Allfather, clad in his battle armour.

He had finally come to their aid, only far later than originally planned.

She didn’t know whether to be relieved or worried even more now.

“Father!” Thor cheered, raising Mjölnir above his head. “We’ll finished them together!”

“Silence!” Odin hissed.

Though she couldn’t see Thor’s face from where she clung to Loki, she knew he looked dejected and confused. If he thought Odin came here to wage war, he was in for a rude awakening.

Laufey’s towering frame rose atop chunks of ice to look Odin in the eye. With a small smirk, he greeted him. “Allfather. You look weary…”

He was right. It was only now that Ellie noticed how he swayed atop his mount. Perhaps this was what caused his delay in arrival?

“Laufey,” he replied. “End this now.”

“Your boy sought this out.”

As the group awkwardly looked at said ‘boy’, Odin agreed. “You’re right. And these are the actions of a boy, treat them as such. You and I can end this here and now, before there is further bloodshed.”

“We are beyond diplomacy now, Allfather. He’ll get what he came for — war and death.”

“So be it.”

Without warning, Laufey swung an ice blade at Odin, but the latter was far quicker, even in his weak state. He raised Gungnir above his head, reopening the Bifröst and sending Laufey flying. Before anyone else had a chance to react, Ellie felt the familiar pull of the rainbow bridge as she, Loki, and the others were sent back to Asgard.

They had barely set foot on the familiar floor of the Observatory before Thor voiced his displeasure. “Why did you bring us back?”

“Do you realise what you have done?” Odin snapped. “What you have started?”

“I was protecting my home.”

“You cannot even protect your friends! How can you hope to protect a kingdom?” Odin tore Heimdall’s sword from the podium before tossing it at the Gatekeeper. “Get him to the healing room! Now!”

Sif, Volstagg, and Hogun quickly helped to escort Fandral out of the room, probably more than eager to be out of Odin’s line of fire. Loki slowly lowered Ellie to the ground, but kept an arm across her waist, shielding her from the Allfather.

“Remain here with me,” he murmured lowly so that only she may hear, his expression genuinely upset. “And do not say a word.”

“And not only did you put your friends in harm’s way,” Odin continued, enraged. “But you thought it acceptable to bring a mortal with you!”

Thor was insistent. “There won’t be a kingdom to protect if you’re afraid to act! The Jötunns must learn to fear me, just as they once feared you.”

“That is pride and vanity talking, not leadership. You have forgotten everything I taught you about a warrior’s patience.”

“While you wait and be patient, the Nine Realms laugh at us! The old ways are done. You’d stand giving speeches while Asgard falls!”

Odin had seemingly had enough as he erupted. “You’re a vain, greedy, cruel boy!”

Thor had no issue with shouting back at his father. “And you are an old man and a fool!”

With the God of Thunder’s words, the room grew eerily silent. Odin’s anger faded, replaced with the look of a disappointed and tired man. His eyes slowly lowered to the ground and Ellie feared what he would say next.

“Yes,” he began in but a whisper. “I was a fool to think you were ready.”

There was something in his voice — something that gave her a bad feeling in her gut. This didn’t feel like a typical telling off for Thor. Somehow, this seemed far worse.

We have to do something! she insisted, knowing Loki could hear her. This is our fault.

“I know,” he agreed. “And I will try to help.”

Loki, in a moment of panic, approached Odin and implored. “Father—”

The deafening growl which Odin made quickly silenced the younger sibling, stopping him dead in his tracks. In a reaction to the harsh shout, Loki reached his arm back, shielding Ellie from the Allfather’s anger even though she wasn’t the target of it. In turn, Ellie gripped his hand in hers, eager to also protect him from the frustrated king.

It was a reaction. A simple reaction what would be expected between lovers.

One which would convey far more to Odin than he was ready to see.

Though he was preoccupied with his argumentative son, the Allfather’s eyes drifted to their close proximity and Loki’s protective stance. Ellie noticed the slight and brief crease in his brow as he studied them. It was gesture that seemed to say a lot to him, and perhaps explained why the pair were so close. Perhaps he had never seen Loki react in such a way with a woman before. Or maybe he always had his suspicions and this merely confirmed them.

If she thought she was worried before, this new tight feeling in her chest couldn’t compare. With a thumping heart she moved to step away from Loki, but he firmly held her where she was, apparently uncaring under his father’s gaze or simple holding her there as a precaution.

As Odin spoke, Ellie broke his gaze, dropping her eyes to the floor. “It would seem that your trip to Jotunheim was not the only thing happening under my nose.”

Her eyes grew wide, and Loki’s grip on her arm grew tighter as he went into damage control yet again that day. “You must understand, I was merely—”

“I understand perfectly well. Both of my sons sought to betray my trust; one through waging war on a nation with which we have peace, and the other by refusing to wed so that he may continue to bed the palace servants. More specifically, his mortal handmaiden.”

The three people in question looked stunned, tears brimming in the corners of the brothers’ eyes as everything came to light. Ellie couldn’t help but meet Thor’s gaze, and yet she knew asking for his help was fruitless. Every one of them was in the firing line here — none of them would get out of this unscathed.

“Father,” Loki begged, trying to keep his voice even despite the slight quiver that could be heard. “Allow me to explain. I have not bedded anyone—”

“You would dare to lie to me?” Odin erupted again, his rage making a return. “You would dare to lie to your King? Your father? Your honeyed words mean little when I can see it with but one good eye!”

“Allfather,” Ellie cut in, earning her a look of dismay from her lover. “Please, you must understand—”

“You will not speak out of turn,” he all but growled. “You have no place or right in this conversation to tell me what to think! If you assume your affiliation with my son gives you a right to converse with me at this time then you are far more ignorant than I thought.”

“Do not speak to her like that!” Loki insisted, looking up at his father imploringly.

“I am your King and I will speak to my subjects however I please, you foolish boy! Have you forgotten that she went with you to wage war on Jotunheim? Perhaps she used her own persuasive words to convince you to bring her along!”

“She did no such thing—”

The air shifted in the room quite instantly, now with a sudden urgency that Odin’s words had brought. Ellie knew these accusations not only painted her in an ill light, but it went as far as implying that she contributed to Thor’s hotheaded idea. Going along out of obligation was one thing, but being one of the conspirators was another offence altogether…

And yet it was somewhat true — she helped Loki to plant the seeds in Thor’s mind.

“I should have her removed from her post for her transgressions,” Odin continued on, the disgust evident in his tone. “And for abusing her close position to the family.”

“I haven’t abused my position!” she argued, choosing her words carefully consider she was not entirely innocent in this situation. “Your accusations are empty, Allfather.”

She was panicking inside — she couldn’t help it. If she were to be thrown from the house of Odin, what could she do? What would she do without her friends? Without her job? Without Loki? The thought had the three of them scrambling for the right words.

“You are in no position to tell me whether my accusations are just or not!” the Allfather raged on. “You are but a Midgardian and you best remember your place in this realm!”

“Father, stop!” Loki yelled, forcing himself between them. “She has not abused her position and she had nothing to do with Jotunheim!”

Ellie was on the verge of desperate tears when Thor spoke up. “She did nothing! She had no part in this. I was the one who insisted on going to Jotunheim to protect our realm from the Frost Giants. It was I, and I alone, so do not punish the little one for my actions, though I still consider them necessary and deserved. She and Loki had nothing to do with this and it was my decision as king.”

His declaration left them momentarily stunned. Even Odin was silent as he considered his words. Ellie looked at the eldest brother in surprise and gratitude, her insides twisting when remembering that she was part of the reason that they had gotten to this point. She agreed upon the scheme with Loki, and now here they stood in the resulting destruction. Their plan had fallen apart so quickly, and now it seemed that the life they had carefully and lovingly assembled was at its end.

Slowly, Odin looked to his eldest son. It seemed as though his heart grew heavy with the revelations that were discovered and the words that were shared. With a slight shake in his voice, he spoke. “Thor Odinson, you have betrayed the express command of your King. Through your arrogance and stupidity, you have opened these peaceful realms and innocent lives to the horror and desolation of war!”

His anger returned once again, before he grasped Gungnir and thrust it into the podium, streaks of lightening erupting from its top.

Behind Thor, the portal of the Bifröst opened once again while Odin angrily approached his visibly distraught son and continued on. “You are unworthy of these realms!” He ripped the discs off Thor’s chest as Loki and Ellie looked on in shock. “You are unworthy of your title!” Next, he ripped away Thor’s cloak. “You are unworthy of the loved ones you have betrayed.”

Loki? What do we do? We have’ta do something!

“We cannot do anything, Ellie.”

But we caused this! This is our fault!

“That means little when we can do nought to stop it!”

“I now take from you, your power,” Odin stated as he returned to the podium and held his hand out to his son. Instantly, Mjölnir was ripped from his grasp and flew into the King’s awaiting hand. “In the name of my father and his father before.”

At his words, the armour on Thor’s arms disintegrated. For a brief moment, he looked to Ellie and Loki with desperation in his eyes before he again turned to his father. Only then did her tears finally fall as the King yelled. “I, Odin Allfather, cast you out!”

Odin thrust the hammer towards his son and, with a crack and flash of lightening, Thor was thrown backwards — his chest armour flying off as it was destroyed — and disappeared through the open vortex. Loki, visibly overcome with emotion, looked to his father in shock before quickly hurrying to the portal through which Thor had vanished. Ellie hurried after him, stunned into silence as Odin whispered something to Mjölnir before it too was hurled into the Bifröst.

No one said anything, probably because no one dared to test Odin further. With a heavy sigh, he tore his spear from its slot in the podium and the portal was closed. Before he turned to descend the steps, his gaze slowly met that of the shocked couple. Despite his earlier anger, he spoke with apparent sadness and disappointment. “We will discuss this later. I must go and mourn the loss of my son with my wife before I deal with you both.”

The pair watched as the Allfather left with a slight shake in his step, never once casting them a second glance. Left alone as Odin spoke briefly with Heimdall outside the observatory, Ellie gently touched Loki’s arm.

“What have we done?” she whispered, her vision blurring with tears.

As he looked away from the closed vortex, he too began to silently cry. “I… I don’t know.”

#Loki #Lover #Angst #Others #Submitted fic #submission #chapter 9 #unofferable-fic #unofferable Part II

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gigaguessmtg · 6 years

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The Undying Flame

This one's a long story. Some backstory on Ajax.

Another petty job... Ajax thought to himself. Well, the rent is paid, either way.

Some shopkeeper was tired of getting shaken down and paid him what little he had to...dissuade them from coming around anymore. Bunch of amateur thugs with an overabundance of confidence to try to make up for skill or guile. The only thing that was worse than the pathetic skirmish they were likely to put him through was the breathtaking tedium of just...waiting. And so his mind wandered...wandered back to a lifetime ago...

The lifetime of a rank and file soldier. Centuries, millennia past. An unremarkable man, name lost to the ages, under his liege's orders to round up some townsfolk and herd them into a large edifice, secreted away deep in the woods. A strange directive from a dying king, but an order is an order. Once in the antechamber, a large glyph glowed, and the people around him began to collapse, souls, being drawn into the masonry. He felt his own spirit being drawn out, before something...happened. He could explain it no better than that, but one minute he stood in newly made necropolis, the next, in a world entirely new to him.

It was dark. Cold. Something about it felt unnatural, yet, for some reason, none of it really seemed to bother him. He felt strong. Powerful. To the distance, he saw a glimmer of winking light, and decided, with no better ideas, to follow it. Time passed in a timeless world...hours, perhaps days even, he marched to his guiding light. As he neared, he saw the light was a pair of armour clad angels, with luminous feathered wings of white, gold and a rich crimson. They offered him sanctuary...what little they could...in a shanty town encampment. They told him a sad tale, of a world dying, being swallowed by a curse of death and darkness, and that they, the Goldfeather, were the last bastion of hope and light, keeping the last vestiges of humanity at bay. The soldier stayed there for a few weeks, unsure what to do, seeing the shadows pull closer on the encampment, the perimeter ever shrinking. The foul shadows pressed at the Soldier himself, pushing at something within. Something begging to push back. Something he was curious to explore. Finally the day came that he reached within, to feel what his power could do. So he pushed. The darkness fought back, savagely. Screams in the camp could be heard as it redoubled it's efforts to claim the last few lives in the world. But the soldier's will was stronger. He clenched his eyes and put all his strength in one last push.

He felt something in that moment. Something familiar. Sunlight. The warmth of the sun dancing on his face once more, illuminating the desiccated, dying world, giving a spark of hope back to the lonely little outpost. The Angels approached him, and thanked him for his aid. They granted him their blessing. The Undying Flame, the spark of light and life that they held. They placed a small spark on his forehead and he surged with heat...life...vitality. A set of great, shimmering wings emerged from his back, marking him as their chosen...their champion. A champion. He knew then what he had to do. He felt the pathways between worlds open to him. Worlds full of people in need...worlds he would save.

His reverie was broken when he head hooting and shouting. Some masked thugs were approaching the store, clearly happy for a payday. Showtime. Ajax glided over, slamming one of the thugs into a wall, before swinging a wing, sending a second sprawling. The first regained his senses, and drew a sword but was met with a bolt of light to the chest, dispatching him easily. The third lost his nerve and ran into an alley. One always runs... Ajax thought, Why must they make it harder...? With little effort he caught the brigand a ways away near a derelict building, grabbing him by the neck and yanked off the mask, revealing a boy, barely older than 16.

The soldier travelled the multiverse as a knight-errant, spreading good where he went. Mad kinds deposed, demons slain, he once made a stop in a world with a sky alight with stars far beyond counting to slay an unbeatable titan. Mistaken for a great warrior reborn, the locals called him Ajax...a title he chose to carry forward. Finally, generations later, as a change of pace, he chose to return to the first world he save, see what became of that cold barren world. Arriving he was welcomed with lush, verdant life. His heart soared with pride. I did this. I saved them. He beamed. That pride was, however, short lived. Overhead he saw two Goldfeathers carrying a large vat of...something. They poured it over a battlement of an ornate tower, the screams from there forever etched in his memories. Rage built, as he watched the angels continue their siege, the kind, benevolent angels who stood guard over their wards, now used as living siege weapons. Drawing power from a leyline, he began a march to the antechamber of a great palace.

At the door, a pair of angels moved to stop him, but were dismissed to the aether with a wave of Ajax's hand, leaving the door unguarded. Ajax loosed a violent blast of force, revealing a stunned war council. "Who dares-" A lord began, before being blasted into a wall with a blast of searing light. "Generations ago, I came here to your land. I gave you a great gift. A gift you have squandered, bickering like children. A gift I have come to reclaim." Ajax proclaimed imperiously. "What gift are you talking about...?" An older man ask, a puzzled look etched across his face. "Life." Ajax replied. He loosed the mana he had been accumulating, drawing on the plane's purest mana to create a wave of death and devastation, laying waste to the continent.

Countless lives were lost that day, and many more in the days following. The land drained of mana, and then charred to ash. The skies choked with soot and smoke, the world was pushed back to a world on the brink of death. Ajax would never return, but the angels would eventually reform, trying once more to foster life in that world. He would be remembered forevermore there as a betrayer by the angels, and a harbinger of wrath and destruction.

Ajax fixed a steely glare on the lad, appraising him for a while as the boy choked back a sob. "Get out of here. Run to the edge of town, and then keep running. Don't you dare return." He said in cold, measured tones, before tossing the boy aside. He turned away and felt a sword run through his back. A familiar heat boiled up within him, as he looked back. "Foolish boy..." he snarled.

Ajax travelled from world to world that he aided and was distressed with what he saw. His efforts, largely for naught. Mad kings replace mad kings, humans killing more than the monsters he slew. Growing in despair, he crafted a realm to hide in until that day.

That fateful day that the world changed. His form grew more defined and rigid, his power leaking away. He became...mortal. A mortal once more and in that moment he realized, all he craved was to be done with this Multiverse...this mad place where people are hellbent on destroying anything good and pure. He grabbed his sword, and ran it through his chest. In that moment, he knew what the Undying Flame meant. An explosion of light and fire erupted from Ajax, and when he regained his senses, he found himself on the scorched ground, whole and unharmed. Reborn like a phoenix in ash and fire.

The boy tried to run, but to no avail. The blast consumed him, leaving his charred body, And leveling the adandoned block about them. Ajax stood to his feet, regaining his strength. "Once again, my mercy is for nothing..." He lamented. He passed by the shop once more as the shopkeeper came out holding a small sack of money. Ajax looked the man over. "No charge. Save it for yourself." He said, before launching himself aloft with a heavier heart than before.

#tw: suicide

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frozenartscapes · 7 years

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Things I Can’t Believe I Haven’t Thought About Yet: Frozen’s Olaf V.1

Last night I reblogged this post and kinda got into a bit of a tag ramble:

#seriously having spent my childhood making snowmen i can tell you it's fucking hard to find twigs that even remotely resemble hands#most of my snowmen ended up armless because of this#...which begs the question: where'd they get the rocks and twigs for the first time they built olaf?#did somewhere in that goofing off montage did they go outside and wander around the castle grounds until they found what they wanted?#or did they have these from an earlier snowman build and just saved them for another use?#because if it was option one arendelle castle REALLY needs better night guards#either that or these two have basically ninja-level sneaking skills

And now I’m thinking about it. So where did little Anna and Elsa get the materials to make Olaf the first time?

Believe it or not, the snow is actually the easiest thing to get an answer for. Elsa. Elsa made the snow in the middle of the ballroom. But what about everything else?

The carrot we can assume they swiped from the kitchen. That must have happened off-screen sometime during their “let’s have fun in the snow before everything goes to shit” montage. We can also assume that the stones used for Olaf’s eyes and buttons are likely lumps of coal, which could have also been found in the kitchen/staff quarters areas as there are probably coal-based furnaces around those areas. It’s possible they’re charred bits of logs from a fireplace, but coal is the more likely option.

And now we get to the twigs. Because that is an excellent question to be asking: just where did an eight year old and a five year old get twigs from in a large, ornately decorated castle? There aren’t many places I can think of that would have twigs just lying around. Maybe an old broom? But the sticks making up his arms don’t look like they’d be used in a broom. I also doubt this was the time period to be decorating interiors with random sticks. None of the pieces are big enough to be considered kindling, either, so they likely wouldn’t have even been brought inside with the other firewood. So, as a result we can assume they got them from outside. It might just be that wooded courtyard we saw in FTFTIF, but still...outside. Through several main corridors, past several large and heavy doors, and outside into a courtyard that is encompassed by either more castle or a wall (likely) patrolled by guards.

So how in the flying fuck did these two giggling dorks sneak through the halls, gather up a carrot, several lumps of coal, and head outside to find the perfect sticks for snowmen hands/hair without getting caught? Seriously, if Anna had never been struck by Elsa’s magic the first thing I’d be thinking about if I was their mother and caught them in the act was ‘you got how far outside without a single person noticing???’ Where the hell were the guards? And servants working night shifts? We know the castle was fully staffed at this point, and unless the King and Queen sleep in their day clothes it probably wasn’t that late (maybe like, 11:30PM-1AM ish?), so people should still have been up. So what gives?

I like to think there are a couple options here. The first being that these two are fucking ninjas. When they aren’t giggling at each other’s antics, they are to be feared. Because one minute they might be in the ballroom, the next on the other side of the castle. And you’d never even know. The giggling is the only way you know where they are. And I personally really like this idea because it kinda calls back to the parts in the cut songs about them terrorizing their mean tutors and just getting into mischief. Like, Elsa might be able to be a good, calm, obedient little girl when she has to be, but don’t let that demeanour fool you: she’s the ring leader. And Anna’s perfectly following in her footsteps. So when these two get it in their heads that they’re going to do something - they’ll fucking do it. Just try to stop them. They’ve already snuck off back into the shadows where you’ll never find them.

The second option is also just as good: they both suck at being sneaky. Anna giggles her head off the whole time, and Elsa’s not much better. Anna’s really good at knocking over stuff, and Elsa will leave little hints of frost or snow around when she’s doing something she knows she shouldn’t be doing. But the castle staff know them, and know they’re just playing a game. So maybe the chef will leave a single, perfectly nose-shaped carrot on a stool in the kitchen so they don’t hurt themselves trying to climb the shelves in the store room. Or maybe there’ll be a few extra pieces of coal near the stove already bundled up in a cloth so they don’t get too dirty carrying them around. Or maybe even some twigs have been left on top of the woodpile nearby. And maybe the guards patrolling the grounds just pretend the infectious giggling coming from behind a suit of armour was merely the wind. Or Gerda will continue to walk past a set of curtains with two pairs of little feet poking out the bottom. Or maybe Kai will make sure to leave the ballroom unlocked.

Either way, both of these options also have sad connotations to them. The first option implies that after the accident, Elsa would have continued to use her sneaking around skills to make sure she didn’t make too much noise in her room. Maybe she still wandered around the castle at night or in the early morning but had to be sure to do so without drawing too much attention, for fear that Anna might be around looking to play. And Anna’s ability fell into disuse as she had no one to sneak around with, and she wanted to do anything to get her sister’s attention - hence, making noise.

And with the second option would come with guilt felt by all the members of the staff who had gotten complacent in allowing the princesses to play. Imagine how Kai must have felt if he had left the ballroom open for that evening and then everything had abruptly and devastatingly changed by morning? Anna nearly died, and Elsa had gone from a happy-go-lucky little kid to an emotionally traumatized heir who had her childhood cut incredibly short all thanks to one accident. Imagine the staff members who remained after that night vowing to never get that complacent again.

Wow, this went from a slightly amusing piece simply asking how two little kids managed to find sticks in a royal palace for building a snowman indoors to angst. Why does Frozen do this to me?

#i might make a part 2 to this btw #regarding olaf v.2 #because if that is coal that formed his eyes and buttons again #then arendelle could become a very wealthy nation from coal mining #if it's just sitting in its pure form underneath a layer of snow in the mountains #frozen analysis #headcanons

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darksiders-scenarios · 7 years

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Congratulations on the blog! Can we have a scenario where the human is selectively mute and for a long time they watched War be blamed for the Apocalypse. One day, they are traveling, when the human suddenly lets out an "I don't blame you. I know you're not guilty of it. I'm really sorry you had to go through that." because they got too tired of that whole bullshit he's been through and just want to comfort him.

“Selective mutism is a situational anxiety disorder, which can be likened to a phobia of speech.” (Article)

A/N: I have that myself and it sucks. Part 2 with Death (link)

Imagine having an anxiety so powerful, it renders you speechless. Now imagine being repeatedly scolded for being ‘rude’ or ‘selfish’ for having this phobia. This was your life before the Apocalypse.

And now this condition has been further exacerbated following the traumatic events of the End War.

Although meeting the horseman, War, didn’t remedy your muteness, it did somewhat alleviate some of the anxiety associated with it. At first, you were terrified of this daunting, unworldly and unholy creature found only in religious scriptures, but over time, this ‘unholy creature’ has become your main source of support.

The fact that he speaks very little and seeming unbothered by your selective mutism was as alien to you as it was welcoming. He has always been patient and never criticised your recurring nods and head shakes. When other races tried speaking to you, War would always speak in your place and if they pried or pointed out your inability to speak, he’d curtly respond, “It is their choice - I strongly recommend you respect that.”

War is always supporting you.

But now you wonder… How much are you supporting him?

You are torn when you witness him being incessantly blamed for triggering the Apocalypse. You are upset, enraged and frustrated at the unfairness of it all. If he indeed doomed mankind then why is he protecting you? Why can’t they see sense in that?

He is resilient, there is no doubt about it. But you’d be a fool to think that he was not suffering. This is not just the weight of one world he is shouldering, but an entire existence. War is mute about his suffering and perhaps, this is why you became empathetic to what he may be going through.

But all you can do is watch.

Like right now as you stare at his back as he’s striding in front of you. For the first time in a very, very long time, you find that the silence is unsettling.

And you desperately want to break it.

You feel the words clawing their way up your throat. The more you stare at the crimson cape swaying in the light breeze, the more frantic the words are trying to escape. Your pace quickens and your heart thumbs rapidly as you approach your friend. Lips part and you draw in a shaky breath.

He turns around.

And you halt.

“We shall rest here for the night,” War declares simply, placing Chaoseater against a charred tree and already readying a fireplace.

Your eyes prick at the corners as you struggle to contain your tears of frustration. You can only nod whilst setting your backpack beside his sword and assisting him in gathering the necessary materials.

There is something soothing in the way the whetstone glides along the mighty blade. The slow piercing, grating sound it produces almost lulls you to a long rest and the sparks that flicker upon contact is almost hypnotic to the sight. Chaoseater appears ornate and resplendent under the bright stars of the unpolluted sky, which is antithetical to the horrors it was designed for.

War’s hood is down and you notice his soft teal eyes glowing in the bright moonlight. His right gauntlet is lying on the ground and your attention is fixated on the newfound anatomy that was his calloused hand as it handled the whetstone with an almost tender care. It was rare, almost a luxury even, to see these almost concealed parts of him.

As he continued with his ministration, you let your mind wander. He looks so peaceful and you wish that he adopted this expression more often. Chaoseater is being treated in the manner you would treat your phone if you still had it. Tenderly and prudently.

Your phone also acted as a gateway to escape reality.

Your gaze alternates between his sword and visage. He hasn’t once looked at you since you set camp here. And the urge to break the silence is gnawing at your conscious again.

You give in.

Abruptly, you stand up and rush around the fire. The sudden movement startles the horseman from his quiet activity, whipping his head in your direction. You grip the red cloth of his cape on his shoulder. But you say nothing.

You can feel his questioning stare burning through your scalp but you refuse to look at him. You feel your throat tightening again and that all too familiar pain of your neck and back muscles stiffening all at once.

At last, he speaks. “What’s wrong?” he murmurs. “Are you in pain?”

'I was in pain?’ you mentally scoff. ’I’m not the one accused of dooming all of mankind.’

You shake your head stiffly and grit your teeth tightly.

A soft sigh escapes his lips. “What can I do?”

That was the trigger.

“I-I don’t blame you,” you all but squeak. You hear a sharp intake of breath but you don’t stop. “I know you’re not g-guilty of it.” You duck your head when you feel his shoulder stiffening but you’ve already gained momentum so you carry on. “I’m really… sorry you have to go through that.”

The last sentence was whispered and you are now panting from the strain on your vocal chords. Your throat is aching in a way as if you just screamed and you clamp your lips shut again. Your grip on his cape tightens even further until you feel nails digging into your palms through the soft material.

Too scared to look up. Too anxious to see his reaction.

You feel him shift before a solid, warm hand lightly grasps your arm. The sensation of his bare hand on yours is staggering compared to the cold metal feel of his gauntlet. A rough thumb gently pushes your chin up and you are now facing azure eyes.

The intensity of his gaze renders you vulnerable and completely exposed, as if he is able to see through your soul. He holds you like that for a long while, just staring at you. At last, you see the ghost of a smile pull at the corners of his lips and you couldn’t help but gawk at them, mesmerised. You feel your anxiety diminishing slightly.

Oblivious to you, War is regarding you as a warrior in this moment, almost akin to the time when a barely armoured angel stood fearlessly in his path at the White City gates. Although he knew little of the extensity of your disorder, he recognised enough of the signs, similar to that of a trauma victim, to know what you might be going through.

But looking at you again, he dismisses that earlier comparison. You lost everything, to the point where you nearly lost your voice. This was a psychological fear that ran deep and you’ve conquered it today.

He is proudest of you in that moment.

“It’s not right,” he hears you whisper. “You’re innocent. It’s not right,” you shake your head in disgust. “It’s not right.” It is all you can say.

The horseman’s eyes widen minutely. Only his brother would defend him so vehemently. He never cared what you thought about his involvement in the Apocalypse. His only concern has always regarded your safety and well-being. But to hear you verbally defend him - by breaking down your own barrier - for the first time since the ordeal started, he felt something similar to gratefulness for your companionship.

“Heaven’s noblest and Hell’s stoutest hearts are incomparable to your conviction, Y/N.”

He said it so quietly that it takes you a moment to process what he just said. You gasp at the sincerity in his voice and you all but gawp at him before fresh tears blur your vision and again you try hiding your face from his. But you were held firmly in place. So you smile weakly in defeat before burying your face in the crook of his neck, earning you a deep contented rumble and a gentle squeeze around the waist.

#darksiders #darksiders 2 #war #fury #strife #death #:(#i'm so sad #i want a hug so badly

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