#words cannot express how glad i am that its no longer winter | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

coredrill · 3 years

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alright here are my rwby8 thoughts now that i’ve had a few days to sit on ‘em!! spoilers for the entire volume under the cut

so if anyone happens to open this and is like “wow this is more words than i’ve seen you use ever” lol yup! it’s probably the most words i’ve written since high school lmao. feel free to read through if ya really want but this is mostly just my own way of organizing my thoughts for this kind of stuff rather than making a million different posts on random parts of it. this way if i want to look back in the future and say “haha wow can’t believe i thought THAT” it’s all in one easy location! i don’t expect anyone else to be reading all this shite lol

thoughts on the volume as a whole:

honestly i loved it!! there’s very little that i would’ve changed and most of that is nit-picking stuff. i’m very impressed that this volume was made in quarantine lmao. the animation in and of itself was STUNNING (shout out to the finale’s water animation...the aura break particle effects...the cinnamon topography of the amity scenes...all of the facial & body expressions...the whale disintegrating...)

i’d honestly say that it’s probably my second favorite volume?? volume 4 is still my beloved but v8 was so good. i’ll probably need to watch it through a few more times but god. i LOVED IT.

honorable mention cause idk where else to put it: some of the scores were breathtaking!!! i tend not to notice background music on my first watch unless it really sticks out to me and there were quite a few scenes where that happened in a good way this volume. the ones where cinder breaks into the atlas control room and the one at the end when atlas is flooding are probably my favs!!! also there was this one part where it was just screeching over ironwood and it worked really really well.

okay so now for individual characters. let’s start with ruby:

i would like to fund her therapy

very surprised that she didn’t “break” this volume! i was sort of expecting it to happen--between ironwood, the amity plan only kind of working, the hound, the virus, and the fact that she was separated from her usual support system (qrow, yang, and jaune), i was definitely expecting her to. i’m glad she didn’t though cause it’s gonna be so much harder when she actually does (probably when she finds out that cinder has the relics and penny’s dead...)

massive shout out to lindsay jones for managing to make squeaky-voiced ruby still sound like ruby even while going through a whole host of emotions we’ve never seen ruby go through before!

god. that scene where crescent rose fell into the drink and ruby scrambled after it. my heart dropped lmao.

also. this is likely because i’ve got an engineering degree (which came with a free stick up my butt when it comes to technology in media) but the line where they say “mass no longer matters” wrt her semblance??? WHAT??? bro splitting mass up into smaller chunks doesn’t change the actual mass of the material itself what is going on here 😭😭😭 (this isn’t a real criticism of any kind i just yelled WHAT after they said that line lmao)

weiss:

i have one single weiss criticism and its that, in the scene where she’s leaving whitley to go fight the hound, she says “we still need to work on your attitude” and for whatever reason, the voice track doesn’t sound like it was quite mixed right? like it sounds like she’s just standing there rolling her eyes but my girl is BOOKING it out of the room lmao

other than that: weiss you are PERFECT. she really spent this entire volume saving and taking care of the people she loves!!! and i loved every second of it!!!

i would’ve liked to see more of her and klein/whitley/willow. i think there’s a lot of great stuff in that dynamic (not me crying when klein showed up at the manor...) and especially between weiss and her mother. i hope we get one big schneeuinon in vacuo once they + winter are all in the same location (but that’s gonna be a while i think lmao)

it’s been said a million times before but weiss?? shaking and crying but using gambol shroud anyway?? even though she thinks her teammates are all dead?? giving ruby the staff and pushing her out of the line of fire and pulling blake back to safety??? fighting cinder, a fucking wholeass maiden, with no aura because she needs to protect penny?? only unable to get up and keep fighting after she watches gambol shroud (the last physical piece she has of her teammates) go over the edge??? bro. BRO. i’m legit tearing up just TYPING THAT. god she’s gonna find her team at that island resort and never let them go. gonna be like v4 jaune all over again huh??

blake/yang:

not as much here since they didn’t get a whole lot of focus this volume, but i enjoyed all their scenes! yang just fuckin going at salem was 1000/10.

i will say...i think blake’s gonna kiss yang when they meet up in tropical paradise. and good for her!! (especially if this volume’s been planned since the beginning, it makes sense that this would be the writers’ idea for where they wanted their first kiss to be)

jaune:

going from ren saying “he has no fear. he believes that we can do this” about jaune to, five chapters later, forcing jaune to deliver a killing blow to penny was just CRUEL

the fucking dissonance of jaune haha!-awkward-renora-moment-exit vomit-boy-through-the-portals hit-in-the-head-with-a-rock arc being the one that penny asks..............bro. don’t hmu.

it’s going to be such a long time until we see him smile again.

also. the moment when crocea mors snaps in half...again, my stomach dropped.

but it’s okay! he’ll be fine without a weapon! he’s the ~strategist~! *breaks the fuck down*

it hurts so much too to think about, like oscar mentioned.....even if/when he does reunite with ren and nora, he’s not gonna be the same person he was when they last saw him. he’s not gonna be their goofy, wholesome, soft, snarky, healer team leader anymore. he just got his shit sorted out, he just stopped being actively suicidal, and tbh i think this might affect him worse than what happened with pyrrha. especially since they were compounding in his brain--what he did gave penny more of a choice than pyrrha ever got, but GEEZ.

pain. just. pain.

nora:

NORA MY BELOVED

okay. OKAY. so like she was passed out for half the volume but what we did get of her was fucking amazing

nora’s mom i am going to find you and have some words. i’ve mentioned this before but this woman has the same energy as the mom from grave of the fireflies who was like “i know we’re actively being bombed right now but i’m going to abandon my children and get myself to safety.” SQUARE UP BITCH. i hope we never see nora’s mom in the show because i will become filled with rage

but nora herself??? flawless. perfection.

i really did love her journey this volume. realizing that she wants to become her own person apart from ren, and then telling him that when he says that he loves her?? nora sweetie that was heartbreaking but i am SO SO PROUD OF YOU.

nora putting herself first for once and being told that people love her WE FREAKING LOVE TO SEE IT

except NOW that’s all gonna go haywire 😭😭😭

like...the moment in the finale where you can see she’s hesitant to leave jaune to to go vacuo but she goes anyway because he’s her leader and he doesn’t like splitting up either and she loves him and she trusts him only for her to get STUCK ON THE OTHER SIDE BANGING ON THE PORTAL. that scene fucking BROKE me. you just KNOW she’s gonna be hating herself for going through and leaving jaune (even though nobody knew it was one way!!!) and when the portal dissolves and he doesn’t come through........

she really thinks that she’s lost TWO teammates now. that’s TWO teammates that she wasn’t able to save. she saved ren from the nuckelavee but pyrrha’s dead and as far as she knows jaune’s dead too

and jaune’s her fucking family!!!!!!!

and like. when we see her on the vacuo side of the portal, we see that she’s got the happy huntresses behind her. she did her job and she gathered them but now she can’t get back through and AHHHHHH. FUCK. when she drops to her knees because she realizes.........that fucking killed me. i’m tearing up now just typing this sdmndbm

and like. the worst part is that she just realized that she wants some time away from ren. but everyone else is gone and just like when they were kids he’s all she’s got and they are gonna lean on each other harder than ever because this time they both lost EVERYTHING. not just jaune, but ruby, who was their teammate for a while too. weiss, who took such great care of nora while she was injured. penny, who nora helped with blake’s advice. yang, who ren had time to bond with this volume. FUCK

it’s gonna hurt so bad to watch but i cannot WAIT to see what nora does next and how she moves forward. god. this is gonna kill her. it’s killing ME and i’m just a viewer lmao

ren:

remember that one week where neath went on twitter and was like “i love renora and i’m gonna make that everyone else’s problem”??? yeah. that was a good week lmao

speaking of neath. MASSIVE PROPS TO HIM FOR HIS WORK. he managed to give ren every single emotion in the book this volume and none of it sounded ooc despite ren being such a repressed character before. he did incredible!!!!

I LOVED REN SO MUCH THIS VOLUME GOD. i mean i love him in every volume BUT HE HAD SO MANY GOOD MOMENTS AND SUCH A GOOD ARC

i’ve already talked about it at length but the scene where his semblance evolves is one of my favorites in the whole show. he’s so fucking full of love that it’s literally tearing him apart and when he finally accepts that fact his ENTIRE SOUL levels up!!! he looks at himself and there are pink petals falling off of him because he can’t contain the love in his body anymore!!! it’s there in a literal, physical manifestation and it’s so. fucking. GOOD. FUCK.

and also my obligatory remark about how he was thinking about oscar and pyrrha and his parents in that moment. people he loved platonically and familially. rwby goes so fucking hard for platonic love and i can’t ever thank them enough. to see ren have this realization because he was thinking about oscar.....god i’m gonna cry again LMAO

and then after that the way that he just. looks at jaune in every scene with the biggest fucking heart eyes. i’m gonna fucking combust he loves his leader SO MUCH. (which. as i mentioned in the nora section. pain now)

and the nora stuff........JUST AS GOOD

another thing i’ve talked about a lot but to see him apologize, be emotionally open, listen to what nora’s saying and what nora needs, TELL HER THAT HE LOVES HER FIRST, not holding a single thing against her, agreeing to wait for her to be ready.........literal perfection holy shit

romance is normally not one of my favorite aspects of any media but i will make an exception for whatever the fuck ren and nora got going on

basically as a ren stan / jnpr stan i was thriving this volume and then that finale hit me and i know i will be in pain until they reunite again

i have a handful of jnr gifs that i was planning to make during the hiatus but now they’re all PAIN aksjhdasjdh

oscar:

deeply worried about the quickly approaching merge. i’m really hoping that oscar and oz stay separate but i also love seeing all the animation/voice acting nuances that indicate that they’re getting closer to the merge.......AH

this volume really hammered home just how strong this kid is. he stands up to SALEM and does the right thing even despite the torture cause he’s so BRAVE and STRONG and when he trusted hazel with the password DESPITE IT ALL. ugh. so good.

i love oscar so much and i’ve loved seeing him grow!!!

penny:

serious stuff coming in the next bullet point but. GOD. her model’s head is so big and i don’t know WHY but this stuck out to me every time she was standing next to someone else. it might be because of the volume of her hair (but yang’s hair also has a lot of volume, and her head is normal sized)??? idk it just threw me off a lot. every time she was like, talking to ruby or something, all i could think about was how her head was bigger than ruby’s ENTIRE TORSO lmao. (also why didn’t they give her human body shoes skdjhaksjh)

that said.........oh, penny 😭😭😭😭😭

i’m surprised that she died but only because i thought her plot armor was pretty thick LMAO. narratively it makes a lot of sense and i’m glad her story ended the way it did.

i’ve seen a lot of people interpreting her actions in the finale as “choosing to die,” but i don’t think that’s the case?? penny’s friends all saved her every single time that she presented her own death as an option. that’s what makes this so tragic, is that they successfully saved her every time she offered that, and that in the end, she still died. she was gonna die anyway. she was impaled by cinder--jaune didn’t have enough time to heal her before cinder defeated weiss (who had no aura!!) and turned on them again. penny made her own choices when 1. she asked to die at the hands of a friend, rather than by cinder’s soul-sucking grimm arm and whatever horrible fate that includes and 2. to choose her successor. and i don’t blame her for making either of those choices! she wanted to die with as much dignity as peace as she could and to choose whose life she would be intertwined with. and while it’s very sad, i’m glad that penny finally got some sense of control over herself and her legacy.

and like...she was so happy when she met up with winter!! she was so happy to have full autonomy for once!!! that scene was both heartwarming and heartbreaking!!!

i also think that penny’s death reinforces the idea that remnant is gonna be very different by the time rwbyjnorqe is done with it. now not one but two kindhearted girls have gotten killed because they got tangled up in the maiden powers—which were originally meant to be a gift!! and i’m very interested to see what the resolution is gonna be!! (i know it’s gonna be in like. volume 52 or something alsjfndnx but still!!)

also, if nothing else, i am very glad that whole “pietro sacrifices the last of his aura to revive her” theory is gone. i hate that theory lmao

i will say, while i enjoyed penny’s role this volume, i do think that maybe some of her screentime could’ve gone elsewhere. i get that there needed to be a lot of focus on her, so that we would be attached when she died, but i think it would’ve been beneficial to spread that screentime elsewhere just a bit, especially since she wasn’t really developing at all. hitting the same point with her like seven times did start to feel a bit repetitive lol. my vote would be for extra time with the schnees, or the jn(o)r reunion at schnee manor, or maybe a scene checking in with pietro and maria!!

emerald:

EMERALD MY BELOVED

YOU DEFECTED!!!! GOOD FOR YOU GIRL!!!!

i hope we get a LOT more time with her in the future. she’s still gotta work out the cinder thing of course but i also think it’s gonna be super interesting to see how she acts now that she (alongside oscar, ren, nora, the hh, and winter) is one of the closest things their group has to a “leader”

also like........good for her for being one of the LEAST traumatized people this volume despite being THREATENED BY SALEM

somebody give emerald a nice long hug

i love her

that is all

winter:

WINTER OH MY GOD

seeing her struggle with her emotions all volume.....only to finally accept them and save marrow’s life.....and because of that choice she realizes how long overdue it was and goes all in on helping the heroes.....and is eventually chosen to become the next winter maiden by the girl who challenged her to accept her emotions in the first place......😭😭😭 chef’s kiss

“you chose nothing. this was a gift.” *demolishes ironwood but doesn’t stick around cause he’s not worth it* *fights cinder* POETIC CINEMA!!!!!

also i cannot wait to see her schneeunion with willow, whitley, and klein.......even if she does have to be the one to tell them what happened to weiss 😭

cinder:

CINDER I HATE YOU BUT ONLY BECAUSE YOU’RE SUCH A GOOD VILLAIN

her backstory was pretty self explanatory but i think this was a good time to spell it out especially while we were in atlas. the culmination of that, her consistent failures to achieve her goals after v3, and watts dragging her really all just came together to make her so much more intimidating and efficient and i loved watching it.

like i know there’s people who don’t like her as a character but she’s always so fun to watch and her va does AMAZING and she’s just. so INTERESTING

also. i cannot wait for her to find out that ruby and neo are both alive (and especially when salem finds out they’re both alive LMAO)

also also her line to ruby about never being born feels.......awfully specific??? i wonder if it’s a hint at some other part of salem/cinder/ruby/summer lore (like her “and i refuse to starve” line from last volume)

also also also CINDER.......lying to salem is gonna backfire on you at one point or another.......HM

salem:

gosh i love salem. she’s such a good villain and i loved all her scenes (especially the fight scene...SO COOL).

very interested in whatever she does next!! since the only remaining lackey she has is cinder (who is now starting to try to manipulate her) and tyrian and mercury, who are in vacuo, i’m curious about her next steps. is she gonna keep recruiting, now that people know who she is?? is she gonna come to vacuo herself?? she could definitely do a WHOLE LOT OF DAMAGE with the refugee situation there, so i’m super excited to see how her next moves play out!!

hazel/tyrian/watts/merc/neo:

rip hazel. glad we were able to get an INSANE fight scene out of him before his death BUT ALSO WHAT’S WITH YOU BEATING THE SNOT OUT OF A 14 YEAR OLD HUH

listen. listen. i know merc-rescues-oscar was never a possibility BUT i still love that idea. it lives in my mind rent free!!!

i feel like mercury’s gonna be so insane after the worst road trip ever in a confined space with tyrian that he’s gonna be immediately redeemed by team sssnn and the power of himbofication upon landing in vacuo LMAO

real talk though, i am VERY interested in what happens when mercury sees emerald again and learns she defected. like, this is his friend, who he’s tried to keep safe the only way he knows how (by keeping his head down and not angering their abuser) and she got out but he didn’t. GOD. AND in the first fight she was in after defecting, she used the move that she learned by watching him!!!! that’s gonna be SO GOOD and i can’t wait to see it!!!

neo is a wildcard and i love watching her fight and i think it’s SO INTERESTING that she went over the side with rwby and jaune and i CAN’T WAIT to see what she does next.

WATTS MY DUDE. what a GOOD volume for him. like the stuff where he yells at cinder was SO COOL to see and it was so funny that he thought that wasn’t gonna come back to bite him LMAO. i think this was super fitting for him and while i like him as a villain, i think this was a good place for his story to end. i had a lot of fun watching his scenes this volume.

qrow/robyn:

I LOVE THEIR SIBLING ENERGY. robyn talking qrow down and them bonding over their semblances together was so great.

i also loved qrow’s semblance...evolving?? changing?? idk what exactly happened yet, but i know that if i too hung out with robyn hill for 48 hours straight my outlook on life would improve dramatically.

i do hope robyn makes it to vacuo soon because she will be invaluable at handling the refugee crisis there.

on the other hand, if qrow gets to vacuo and finds out that ruby and yang (and three more of his adopted kids) never made it........PAIN. oh my god it’s gonna be like summer all over again 😭😭

aceops:

did not expect to get teary-eyed when vine died. and yet i did. that “themes of death” cw on the finale was CERTAINLY SOMETHING HUH

hell yeah marrow!!! what a good boi!!! i loved his defection ofc and him going off on ironwood...chefs kiss

i hope marrow sticks with the main cast. he’s my favorite and he deserves to see his friends again!!!

as for elm and harriet, i’m not sure?? i think harriet still has a lot of work to do before she’s redeemed in my eyes. maybe they can be dropped off at beacon to help glynda fight the grimm/rebuild so that they can be back for the show’s ending but the cast is somewhat trimmed for vacuo lmao

also. i know they’re not aceops. but WHERE ARE FLYNT AND NEON ARE THE MEME KIDS OKAY

happy huntresses:

may marigold is literally perfect in every way

loved them! would’ve loved to see more of them lmao. maybe even just cutting back to them in the crater reacting to some of the stuff going on.

i very much hope we get to see them in the future! i know the vacuans aren’t gonna be happy with the atlas/mantle people showing up unannounced but i feel like if there’s anyone who’s gonna be able to earn their respect, it’s the organized-and-saved-the-lives-of-those-downtrodden-by-atlas-happy-huntresses.

maria & pietro:

okay. SO. my thoughts are either that they made it to vacuo (penny did see where amity would touch down, so it’s possible that a portal was placed in that location and they made it through) or qrow picks them up.

either way, i hope we get to see them again. I LOVE THESE TWO GEEZERS!!!

oh, pietro......... *cries*

ironwood:

not much to say here except that i loved it. i loved how he got more and more paranoid, i loved that he vaporized jacques schnee, i loved that he only went cartoon-villain at the last moment, i loved that he died unceremoniously surrounded by the thing he thought would save them all. i love that cinder got in one final chess reference beforehand. 10/10

the hound:

it feels like a lifetime ago that this guy died but holy shit. holy SHIT.

i want whitley to summon the hound!! it was an enemy that pushed him to grow, i think it would be neat!!

ambrosius:

LOVED THIS DUDE. i LOVE how his powers work!!! like, even though it’s magic, it’s so realistic because that’s how creation works!!! you gotta design the EXACT thing you want or else its gonna be fucked up!!!

like. okay. so (back on my engineering bs again lmao) for example. let’s say i’m writing a program where the user enters a number from 1-10 and it’s displayed on the computer screen. so i write whatever code i need that says “take user input and put on screen.” that’s what ambrosius did when he created the portals and the pathways between them!

and then let’s say i also put a warning to the user that says “only enter numbers from 1-10.” that would be ambrosius saying “do not fall.”

but...the user can still enter whatever they want. what happens if they put in the number 100? what happens if they type a letter? this program only puts numbers from 1-10 on screen, so who knows what’s gonna happen. and that’s what happens when people fall off the railings!!!

“oh, but you told them what numbers to enter” yeah but humans are unpredictable and ya gotta account for the human element when doing stuff like this!! team rwby didn’t account for people falling off--because why would people fall off if they were told not to? but the human element messed that up anyway!!!

anyways i’m a fucking nerd apparently but it was super cool to see that reflected in ambrosius!!! i’m a big fan!!!

like whenever people call him tricky or sneaky...no!!! he was just doing exactly what he was told to do!!!! so good!!!

also i wanna see him hang out with his sister jinn lmao

alright and here’s my thoughts/predictions for v9:

first off i just wanna say that this entire section (this entire post really, but especically this section) is just me spitballing lmao. we literally have ZERO clue what’s happening next or where they are, i’m just throwing out some stuff that’s crossed my mind! whatever crwby gives us is gonna be infinitely better than whatever i come up with lmao

that said, i have two ideas for what could be happening in madagascar.

option one is the one i’ve seen other people toss around, which is the whole wonderland-land-of-the-dead thing. i’m kinda torn on this because i think it could be good for penny’s storyline, but not really anyone else’s?? sure, yang and ruby could see summer, but weiss would see...jacques?? and blake would see...adam?? i’m not sure what weiss and blake would have to say to them/learn from them the same way ruby and yang would.

on that same idea, jaune could definitely see pyrrha, but again, i’m wondering what purpose that would serve? obviously jaune’s actions in the finale were guided by pyrrha (or specifically her mom, and realizing that pyrrha never had a choice either), but it’s clear that that’s the case for all of team jnpr, and it will be probably forever. their scene together at pyrrha’s memorial felt like they were closing the door--specifically--on their grief. on the other hand, those actions are super relevant right now and i will never turn down the chance to see pyrrha!!! it’s just free waterworks babey!!!

neo also has roman, but i can’t really see roman admitting to anyone that he got swallowed by a grimm 😭😭 just seems too embarrassing for him LMAO

for penny, i think this could work nicely. all she ever wanted was to not have her life controlled by others--kind of like alice in wonderland (the disney movie version because i am fairy tale illiterate lmao). if penny gets to exist after death in a land where she gets to choose everything for herself i think she would be very happy!

again, if this ends up being the case, crwby could 100% make it work! (and i am 0% opposed to maya model pyrrha.) i just personally am not as sold on this being the case as some others are.

option two imo is vacuo but in the past. which i know seems kind of weird BUT i have reasons!

so we know a few things about vacuo. one, it used to be an oasis and was considered a paradise until atlas and mistral destroyed it for the dust. two, it has giant motherfucking crabs that people like to eat. yes this is all i have to go off of BUT both of those things are in the end credits scene we got!

also, them landing in past-vacuo makes sense on ambrosius’ level. their “one way ticket” probably didn’t include all four dimensions of coordinates--so i could see them landing in the same x, y, and z as the official doorway, but at a different time. the creation would still do exactly what it was asked to do--drop them in vacuo.

there’s also a couple other things. “vacuo” means “in a vacuum” which i’ve heard v9 is supposed to be. also in before the dawn, sun saw some bigass magic tree that awakened his semblance which this one definitely could qualify as

(okay. side note. when i first saw the tree i thought of the glowy tree from james cameron blue people avatar. IDK WHY, i haven’t seen that movie in years??? i also had to google it to make sure i wasn’t making it up and apparently it’s called the “tree of souls.” which would also make sense if it helped sun awakened his semblance. i don’t think rwby based something off of blue people avatar, it’s probably more likely that blue people avatar is based off of some fairytale/mythology that i don’t know anything about LMAO)

i don’t actually think option two is gonna happen, but it was fun to think about!!

also either option opens the opportunity to time not passing 1:1 in current vacuo & rwby’s island getaway which???????? AHHHHH

alright so now to the actual characters lmao. i mentioned wby earlier. i honestly have no clue what neo’s gonna be up to, she’s such a wild card and i LOVE IT.

ruby and jaune is gonna be...........PAIN. NO MATTER WHAT. i have no idea how ruby is gonna react--she might just be so overwhelmed by everything that she snaps/yells at jaune which. PAIN. but she also might not?? which. ALSO PAIN. i feel like no matter what ruby does, jaune’s gonna blame himself anyway. god. i love their friendship SO MUCH and this is gonna HURTTTT

and on that, he doesn’t have ren and nora this time to pull him back from the ledge. this dude’s guilt complex is gonna go crazy especially since he doesn’t have his team and double especially if ruby/rwby blames him for what happened. god it’s gonna HURT TO WATCH.

on a wildly different note, i hope we do get to see vacuo/qrow throughout volume 9. if i go a whole volume without ren and nora i WILL cry lmao.

also it’s gonna be super interesting to see how their group fares!!! vacuo’s fuckin nuts and i’d love to see winter just destroying the grimm there (3 headed giraffe my beloved) and see how the atlas/mantle refugees handle the climate--and how the vacuans react to all of them LMAO

ALSO!!!! THE SULFER FISH WERE THERE!!! very glad to see that they’re in vacuo too because from the concept art it seems like they have super unique abilities and i’m excited that we may get to properly see them, instead of just cameos!!!

team cfvy pspspspspspsps theodore and rumpole pspspspspsps team sssnn pspspspspsps

and, of course, i gotta mention that any possible jnr reunion WILL tear my heart out and i will probably cry for days. i gotta start emotionally preparing now LMAO

alright and that wraps it up!! if anyone makes it down to the bottom props to you!! i don’t expect anyone to actually read this mess lmao. tldr: INCREDIBLE volume and i’m so hype for v9 already!!!

#f: rwby #t.txt #this took me two whole days to type lmao

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wewillwriteyou · 4 years

Text

Crazy Little Thing Called Love || Chapter 10

A few elements from the main plot: A fine line falls between fiction and reality: what starts as a musical slowly becomes a game-changer. Tables will turn and it will get clear as the sun that the only unstoppable power in life … is love.

Summary Chapter 10: Christmas is coming and some people go, others stay at the campus. But what if, as it always happens, plans will change last minute? And what if ‘these plans’ are none other than Ben’s plans?

Word count: 5.2K+

Warnings: Language here and there, but this chapter is mainly fluff / descriptions, so safe territory everyone

A/N: This chapter is indeed one of our favourites, folks! We loved writing it, so we do hope you’ll like as much as we do! 💛 xx

Tuesday, 24 December 2019

The Sorceress was right: he had leaped without looking. Leaped into something that was bigger than him and any of us mortals. Suddenly, a plan unravelled before his eyes. To fix everything. To make amends. This time he knew he couldn’t do it by himself. He needed help.

The alarm going off made him jump off the bed. He turned it off fast but not fast enough to prevent Rami from waking up.

“Sorry mate,” Ben apologised to his roommate as he pulled a suitcase from under his bed.

“It’s Christmas Eve – Rami mumbled, rolling on the other side of his bed – did you need to set a goddamn alarm today?”

“It’s almost twelve…” Ben observed, chuckling.

“Yeah, but still… Christmas Eve…” Rami complained, using his pillow to cover his ears.

“My dad’s picking me up in an hour – Ben shook his head chuckling and threw him a cushion – we’re going to Italy on the annual ski trip”

“Right, - Rami threw the pillow back and got up, stretching his spine – how did he convince Miss New Americana?”

Ben rolled his eyes, chuckling lightly. Miss New Americana was his dad’s fiancée and she was… not easy, to be nice. Something of a bitch, to be honest.

When his parents were still together, the Hardy’s would always go to Italy in the winter break and Ben only had happy memories of that time.

After Ben’s mom died just as he was starting college, he and his dad went on the ski trip on their own for a couple of years. And then he met Linda, a sparkling pink American who inexplicably made his dad happy but who was clearly more interested in his dad’s money than she was in his actual happiness.

That would have been the first year someone outside the family had joined their trip and Linda didn’t seem like the type of person who liked to… mess up her hairstyle with sky goggles.

“I suppose he’s gonna tell her we’re gonna go to Milan to go shopping and then listen to her complaints during the whole trip once she realises he lied to her” Ben answered, making Rami chuckle from the bathroom.

Rami closed the water and emerged from the bathroom with the towel around his neck, “Are you gonna survive with her there?”

“No Rami, - Ben stopped and pointed a finger at him – the question is: is she gonna survive with me there?”

Rami laughed, “Oh God, you’re gonna be your own first client, Mr lawyer…”

They were both laughing when Ben’s phone rang and his dad’s number appeared on the screen.

“Yeah dad, I’m almost ready, what time are you gonna be here?”

Rami got out of his pijama and went through his drawers to find a shirt, he could tell something had happened by Ben’s facial expression. He watched him slowly put the wool socks back on the bed, out of the suitcase, and sit on the mattress.

“You must be joking. Tell me you’re joking.” Ben harshly said on the phone and Rami mouthed him a ‘what’ but Ben just shook his head.

“Dad, you know she’s just playing you, right? Are you still falling for her crap?” Ben rubbed a hand on the back of his neck and let it fall on his side.

“I cannot believe you’re taking her side…”

Rami walked up to him and sat on his bed while buttoning up his shirt.

Ben was defeated. His dad was one of the best lawyers in the UK, after all. He let his head fall forward and hid his face in the palm of the hand that wasn’t holding the phone.

“Fine – he blurted out, interrupting his dad on the other side – Do whatever she says. I don’t care. I hope you two are gonna be happy.”

He was about to hang up when, “Oh, and I’m glad to hear I’m the only one of us to still give a shit about mom.”

Hitting the red button, he ended the call and threw the phone into the suitcase. He brought his hands to his face and rested his elbows on the knees, exhaling frustrated.

“I can’t believe her – he began – when he told her about the trip she flipped out and caused a scene in the middle of his Christmas dinner party and threatened to leave him and go back to her parents and my dad, being the dumbass that he is, told her they didn’t have to go if she didn’t want to…”

Ben exhaled tiredly, even if he’d just woken up.

“What a manipulative bitch… - Rami commented – I’m sorry, man”

Ben got up again and began unpacking, “Yeah, I know”

“You can come with me and my folks… I can try booking you a last-minute ticket to Egypt”

“Thanks, Rami, but I don’t think it’s possible… and in any case, I’d feel like an outsider with you and your family”

“You know my parents love you,” Rami patted on his shoulder before going to the wardrobe again to pick out his trousers.

Ben half smiled, “Thanks, man”

An effusive knock on the door interrupted them.

Rami opened the door and an impeccably dressed Lucy made her entrance.

“Happy Christmas Eve boys,” she kissed him on the cheek and went up to Ben to place a kiss on his lips.

She noticed Ben was unpacking and frowned, “Aren’t you supposed to be already packed? – she shot a look at Rami and he shook his head while looking down – What happened?”

Ben exhaled and threw his last T-shirt on the duvet, “Linda. That’s what happened…”

Lucy placed a hand on his back and brushed it soothingly, “I’m sorry, babe… you can always come at my parents’ if you want”

“Thanks, Luce, but I think I’m not in the mood…” Ben walked away to put his clothes back in his drawers, letting Lucy’s hand fall back to her side.

She furrowed her eyebrows, “So where ‘re you gonna go?”

Ben closed the wardrobe and put his hands in his pockets, “I think I’ll stay here…”

“Here? – Lucy shrieked – You wanna be alone at Christmas?”

Ben huffed, “I’m not gonna be alone, Luce. There’s a lot of people who don’t go home for Christmas and I know they’re throwing a small party tonight at the cafeteria… more like a Christmas dinner for the ones who cannot have one with their families and-”

“It’s because of her, isn’t it?” Lucy cut him off. Steam was already bowling up in her head and she had to force herself to listen to what he had to say instead of storming out of the room.

“What? No, Lucy I-”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Ben, I know you’re not telling me something and I plead you tell me before I walk out of that door or I won’t be coming back”

“Alex’s gonna be at her parents for the holidays… – Rami jumped in – She was telling Elizabeth the other day at rehearsal. She’s leaving tonight…”

Lucy moved her eyes from Rami to Ben, “That doesn’t answer my question, though”

She knew Ben better than she knew herself and he was hiding something. Since the beginning of the month, she had noticed that something was off with him. He talked less and missed a couple of rehearsals. He hung out more with his canoeing team than with the cast of the musical. And more importantly, he’d been avoiding physical contact as much as he could.

Lucy knew something had happened with Alex, she just knew.

Since that kiss on stage, she hadn’t believed a word he had told her. He swore it didn’t mean anything and he was just acting but she smelled the lie from miles away.

Lucy distinctly remembered Ben kissing her like that, with that passion… but it had stopped ages ago. And she had been fine with it because she had always been told that after the excitement of the beginning, it was normal to lose the spark in a relationship and ‘get used’ to the routine.

Seeing him having the same spark they had with another woman had nearly driven her crazy.

She refused to believe they were done. She couldn’t accept the idea she was losing him. Ben. They had been through so much together and she knew for sure her parents were already looking into wedding halls for when they’d graduate. They had not-so-discretely told her they needed to be together because ‘it was good to the families’ on countless occasions.

And even though all of the above was true, she still needed to know what had happened so she could dump his ass before he could do it with her. She refused to be the cheated loser who got dumped by Ben Hardy. God, my parents are gonna kill me, was the only thought that circled inside her head.

She struggled in keeping up her stone-cold bitch façade, but she felt like she was crumbling to pieces and she knew she couldn’t have held it much longer.

Ben almost involuntarily glanced at the dresser by the door and Lucy followed his gaze.

The picture of them at the first canoeing race he ever won was sitting in its frame, the glass completely shattered.

“What happened to that picture?” she asked, her voice squeaky.

“Crap,” Rami muttered under his breath and walked away from the couple, closing the bathroom door behind him.

Lucy stared at the broken glass, her mouth agape, “Did she do this?” her voice feeble.

Ben looked at his feet, running miles in his head to find a plausible answer that wouldn’t completely shatter their relationship.

“Fucking say something, Ben!” Lucy shouted.

“It was an accident! – Ben shouted back, still averting her eyes – Alex had come by and-”

“That’s all I needed,” Lucy cut him off and aimed to the door, but Ben blocked her arm.

“Let go of me,” she wriggled her arm away.

“I’m sorry, Lucy, I really am-”

“For what Ben, uh? For wrecking our first memory as boyfriend and girlfriend? For cheating on me? Or for me founding out about you two? Uh?”

Ben didn’t know what to say.

“You bastard,” Lucy’s voice broke as she completed those last words and while Ben stood there she opened the door.

She walked out, but before shutting the door behind her she turned one more time, “Rot in hell, Ben Hardy”.

With that said Lucy slammed shut the door on their relationship.

It was over.

Ben walked back to his bed and sat there staring at the floor.

“Jeez mate,” Rami emerged from the bathroom.

Ben looked up to him, “You heard everything I suppose…”. Rami nodded.

Ben scoffed, “What have I done, man?”

“Well, to be honest… a fucking mess” Rami sat in front of him and Ben emitted a bittersweet chuckle.

“Thanks… – Ben brushed a hand in his hair – What do I do now?”

Rami exhaled, “How much do you need me to be honest?”

Ben looked at him and realised Rami was probably the only person who knew him well enough to give him advice on this, “100%. Shoot.”

Rami nodded, “Listen, Ben, you’re my best mate and you choose complete honesty so I have to tell you… You acted like a dick.”

Ben sarcastically chuckled, “Well thanks, man, I needed that…”

“Let me talk…” Rami shushed him, “You acted like a dick with both Lucy and Alex. You cheated on Lucy, knowing all the shit you two had been through and you lied to her about the kiss with Alex on stage. You deluded Alex you two could be together without telling her that you still hadn’t talked to Lucy and you had no intention of doing it soon…”

Ben was staring at the floor, feeling all the horrible things he’d done stabbing his back like daggers.

“So now you have to do only one thing and you have two ways to do it… - Rami continued – You have to make things right with both of them and you can either choose to run after Lucy or go talk to Alex. Your choice.”

Ben finally looked up at him and saw a half-smile on Rami’s face, meaning that he’d support either of his choices. Like he had always done.

He smiled, “Thanks, Rami”. They both got up and Ben hugged him, suddenly knowing what to do.

He walked away from his friend, picked up his phone, jacket and keys and headed to the door.

“I’ll probably be gone by the time you’re back, – Rami said, making Ben turn to look at him – so don’t do anything stupid. And keep out of trouble.”

Ben smiled, “Merry Christmas, mate”

As he closed the door behind him he heard Rami shouting Merry Christmas asshole back to him. He chuckled to himself and let his feet walk him in the only direction he wanted to go.

***

“So you’re telling me you’ll spend New Year’s Eve here?”, Denise tucked her phone between her head and shoulder and picked up her books, then headed towards the library’s exit.

“Apparently so,” Gwilym was cheerier than she’d expected and it made her smile to herself.

“That’s cool… – she tried to keep a straight tone while dodging the people in the corridor and finally stepping outside the building – Well, let me know when you’re gonna be here. We could… grab a bite… and maybe wait for New Years in the main hall with the others…”

Gwilym smiled widely, “I would love that”

Denise was able to contain her joy only because of the books she was holding. She was actually jumping around inside her head.

As she proceeded on the sidewalk of the 9th dormitory, she noticed a familiar puff of blond hair waving at her from the distance.

“Listen, Gwil, I’ll call you back.” She hung up the phone and fished it not without some struggle in her pocket.

“Hi, Ben… What are you doing here?”

“Hey Denise, – he sounded nervous and after everything Alex had told her, she didn’t know how what to think of him – I was looking for Alex and I know she lives here, but I don’t know her room… Is there any chance you could tell me?”

Denise furrowed her eyebrows and narrowed her eyes, “And why should I tell you that?”

Ben was confused at first, but then he realised Alex had probably told her what had happened between them.

“Listen, Denise – he started, brushing his hair nervously – I need to speak to her as soon as possible. She hasn’t picked up my calls in weeks and, besides that, I need to do this in person… I wanna make things right, trust me. I’m here to make things right.”

Denise stared at him and he did look desperate. She knew Alex would have killed her, but she decided to trust her instinct, “The room is 986. Second floor, west end of the corridor.”

Ben let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, “Thank you”.

He patted her on the shoulder and smiled, before climbing the steps to the building.

“Don’t make me regret this, Hardy” she shouted before he could enter and he turned to wave as if to say ‘promise’.

Ben eluded security and ran towards the stairs, jumping two steps at a time. He was so focused on arriving in time that he couldn’t think of anything to say to her face.

When he got to the door, he almost hesitated to knock.

Suck it up Hardy, he said to himself and rapidly knocked on the wooden surface, eagerly waiting for an answer.

“Who is it?” Elizabeth asked.

“It’s Ben,” he cleared his voice.

The door opened and Elizabeth emerged with only her head from behind it, a nervous smile on her face, “Hey Ben, what are you doing here?”

Ben looked her up and down and hesitated for a second, wondering who was she waiting for that made her so nervous.

“Uhm, I was looking for Alex… I need to talk to her urgently”

Elizabeth’s expression changed, “Oh, ehm… she left last night to go to her parents… I’m sorry”

“Oh,” he lowered his gaze as to think about a backup plan. He had not seen that coming. He looked up to Elizabeth again, “They live in town right? Do you know the address?”

“Wow, well Ben you’re asking me a lot…” Elizabeth inadvertently opened the door more and he took it as an invitation to walk inside.

He looked around and noticed that only one bed was undone, sign that at least one of the roommates had probably not slept there that night.

The girl closed the door with a scoff and he squared her up and down. She was wearing a large t-shirt that was most certainly not hers and that only barely covered her super short shorts.

Elizabeth scoffed again and crossed her arms on her chest, “Eyes up here, Hardy… - he recomposed himself but couldn’t hide a smirk. She was evidently waiting for someone – What you’re asking me is betraying a friend. A friend that clearly doesn’t want to hear from you… or she would have picked up at least one of your calls, wouldn’t she?”

Ben looked at his feet and brought a hand on the back of his neck, looking for a good excuse as to why Elizabeth should have trusted him.

When he was about to speak, the noise of water starting and stopping right after interrupted the silence.

Ben looked at the girl with a confused and way too amused face, “If Alex’s not here… who’s in there?”

He watched her gasping for words and then hiding her face behind her palms when the bathroom door opened.

Joe emerged from the door frame in pijama pants, with no t-shirt on and a towel around his neck. He widened his eyes as soon as he registered what was going on.

Ben’s eyes widened as well and he brought a hand to his mouth in disbelief. He darted his look between the two of them and a smirk gleamed on his lips, as he did the math: Joe’s pants and Elizabeth’s t-shirt were undoubtedly two pieces of a whole pijama.

“Oh shit,” was the only thing Joe could say.

“Oh my God… – Ben snickered – what the fuck’s going on here?”

Joe glanced at Elizabeth but she was still hiding behind her hands. She peeked from between her fingers and she could see the two boys staring at her. She let her hands fall and huffed.

“We are both staying here for Christmas and both roommate-less… - Liz hoped the phrase would complete itself, but when she saw Ben nodding in her direction, asking to continue, she rolled her eyes – Joe moved in here for the holidays”

Ben laughed out loud, earning a punch on the arm from the girl, “Cut it out, Hardy.”

She knew she should have been more worried about someone knowing that a guy was sleeping in the female dormitory, but when she caught Joe who had started breaking as well, she couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Fine, - she conceded recomposing herself – but you can’t tell anyone about this, okay?”

Ben tried pushing down the laughter and nodded forcefully, clearing his throat, “Don’t worry… Your little secret is safe with me…”. He winked at Elizabeth, unable to hide his wily smirk.

“There’s no secret – Joe blurted out, his face more nervous than he cared to admit – Nothing happened here…”

“Right, – Ben nodded condescendingly – and she’s wearing your tee because she doesn’t have any clothes?”

He raised an eyebrow and chuckled at the redness that was spreading on both their faces. They were so cute, both embarrassed and awkward every time he suggested there was something between them.

It was crystal clear to his eyes that there was something there and he smiled to himself, wishing he and Alex had taken things as slowly as they had. Because it was evident to him now that there had always been something else besides friendship between Joe and Elizabeth. All those stolen glances he had caught during rehearsal and the way Joe had reacted when he’d seen Elizabeth kissing Gwilym. It was not casual.

Only after a few seconds, he realised that whatever had happened in that room, they probably hadn’t talked about it yet.

“Listen, guys, - he started, - I’m not here to mess around… I have to talk to Alex. I screwed things up and I want to make them right, now that I have the chance. I need to make things right.”

Joe and Elizabeth shared a glance.

“Can you please help me? – Ben continued – I’ll keep your secret, I swear. Just please, will you help me?”

Elizabeth glanced at Joe again and he nodded as to say ‘it’s your call’.

She exhaled, “I’ll write it down for you – Ben let out a breath of relief, but Elizabeth continued – but you have to swear on everything you’ve got that you will not make me regret helping you.”

Ben forcefully nodded, “Sure, I swear. I do”

“And you have to shut your mouth about what you just saw,” Joe jumped in.

Again, Ben nodded and watched as Elizabeth picked up her phone and texted him the address.

“Thank you. For real,” he said to both of them.

Elizabeth half-smiled, “You’re welcome, Hardy. Now get out of here before I change my mind…”

“Merry Christmas, guys,” Ben said with a chuckle, before patting Joe on the shoulder and sprinting towards the door.

As it closed behind him, Joe turned to Elizabeth, “You know you sent Alex a ticking time bomb right?”

She sat down on the bed, thinking that Joe was probably right and that Alex would have killed her for what she’d done. But she also knew Ben and Alex were both secretive, big-headed people that lived in the fear of letting someone close.

Well, sometimes people like them needed a small push to take the leap.

Elizabeth chuckled to herself, “Yeah, that’s my Christmas present.”

***

“I told you, it’s not just another musical. It will be very important for my extra credits and, besides, I get to play the piano in front of the whole campus which is the closest I’ve ever gotten to a concert” Alex replied, shrugging her shoulders and placing the carrots on the cutting board.

“Thank you, dear,” her mom said and Alex smiled, kissing her on the temple. It was Christmas Eve’s afternoon, but Christmas dinner was already taking its form on the stove.

“Still find it useless, you could be studying other stuff instead of wasting your time playing a witch” her brother Jason commented.

“Oh, like economy? Like you, Jay? ‘m sorry to disappoint you, but my place will never be behind a computer typing on the board all day” Alex sassily replied, raising her left eyebrow.

“And where’s your place, Alex?” Jason used his smart-ass tone, that knew would have bothered his sister for days.

Alex inhaled sharply and walked towards the table where Jason was sat at. She put her hands on the marble surface and leaned down until her eyes were looking straight into his.

“In front of thousands of people, that cheer my name”

“Like mother like daughter – their father appeared in the kitchen, still wearing the gloves he had used to collect the firewood – she always used to say she would have sold theatres and would have danced for the Queen,” he proudly continued, hugging his wife from behind.

“And that’s exactly what I did. Apart from the exhibition in front of the Queen”, the woman chuckled, turning her head to place a brief kiss on her husband’s lips.

Alex looked at them and sincerely smiled, before turning in her brother’s direction.

“You see: a dancer, a conductor – she started, indicating their parents – a wanna-be musician – she went on indicating herself – and then there’s you, an accountant” she ended her sentence indicating Jason.

They all started to giggle.

“How many times will I have to hear this story?” Jason asked, defeated.

“Until mom and dad admit you’ve been adopted, there’s no other explanation to me” Alex joked, messing his hair up. He pushed her away and they cackled again.

“It would be weird to discover that at thirty years old, don’t you think so?”

“There’s always time for new discoveries. Am I wrong dad?” Alex said, walking closer to her mom and stealing a carrot to munch it.

“You’re absolutely right, my dear” the man answered, winking at his daughter and walking out of the kitchen to go and light the fire up inside the fireplace.

The two women started to laugh, while Jason rolled his eyes getting up to help his dad with the wood. Alex’s mom scrolled her head and kissed her daughter’s forehead.

“Let me help you,” Alex said, taking the knife from her hand.

All of a sudden, while the two men were struggling with the fire in the living room and Alex was cutting vegetables for her mother, the doorbell rang.

“George, are you expecting someone?” Alex’s mom shouted from the kitchen.

“No, Eveline, I’m not. Christ, why won’t it light up?” her husband answered in a rush, before starting to insult the wood that did not want to burn.

“I’ll go and see who’s it,” Alex promptly said, and her mother thanked her before going back to cook.

She cast a glance at the salon and could not contain a hushed chuckle that escaped her lips in seeing her dad so pissed kneeling in front of the fireplace and an even more pissed Jason standing behind him.

She scrolled her head and toddled towards the door.

Alex did not know whom she was expecting to find; maybe a family’s friend, or the postman, or even one of their relatives that had decided to surprise them. She was sure of only one thing: she surely would’ve not expected to find him.

“Ben! – her welcoming smile fading away from her lips in the exact moment she opened the door and saw him, standing there – how … what ar-”

“It’s over. Between me and Lucy, it’s over” he cut her off and let out in a rush.

He seemed out of breath as if he had run a marathon to get there in time. His coat was unbuttoned and his scarf was carelessly entangled around his neck, while the keys of his car were dangling from his index finger.

Alex opened her mouth and, looking behind her back, she took a step outside to have some ‘privacy’.

“Ben, I … that’s … I mean, I don’t think it’s the right time to have this conversation” Alex stuttered and had to cough halfway into the sentence to recompose her tone.

Her heart was jumping at the sight of him, but her brain was sending thousands of warning signs. She had to think about the way she had felt when she left his room that day, the way she had felt every other day at rehearsals when she had to pretend nothing had happened.

Ben slightly nodded and looked down to the ground for a brief instant, while a few snowflakes graciously fell on his blonde hair.

“It’s just, that… ‘ve missed you, Alex. And I know I screwed everything up, but … you know, when this morning Lucy walked out of my bedroom I felt I finally had a choice,”

He paused again, finding the strength to look into Alex’s eyes.

“And I choose you” he then confessed.

A long stripe of frozen breath flew out from the corner of his mouth and, while he was breathing, free from the burden he had carried on his chest, Alex, at those words, felt as if her lungs had stopped functioning.

“Ben – she started, unsure on what saying after – I think it’s better if we talk about all of this after the holidays” her tone was cold. Glacial.

Panic had taken over her body and her insecurities had immediately built a barrier to shield her, cutting Ben out once again.

“There’s my whole family inside, it’s not the right time for this. You understand that right?” she proceeded when she noticed Ben had not dared to speak a word yet.

“I understand – he echoed her, nodding – Merry Christmas, then” and saying that, he turned on his heels and walked towards his car.

Alex felt tears reaching her eyes and had to look up to push them away. When she decided to reserve one last gaze at Ben, she noticed he was struggling with the car’s ignition.

He punched the steering wheel and exited the car.

“It doesn't start-up,” he said, letting his arms fall loose by his sides.

“Are you joking?! – Alex shouted, feeling her heart pumping harder inside her chest; when he scrolled his head, she knew she didn’t have any choice – come inside” she surrendered.

Ben’s chin touched the ground as he tried, and failed, to hide the big smile that was now adorning his face. Alex opened the door for him and let him step inside first.

“I talk, you keep your mouth shut!” she threatened him and, as an answer, Ben pretended to zip his lips.

“Alex, who was at the … oh, hi” Jason appeared from the living room and grinned at the scene in front of his eyes. Soon, their parents too emerged from the salon and the kitchen and Alex felt as if she was under the spotlight.

“Ehm, this is Ben, a friend from college – she cleared her throat and felt her mouth go drier – his car broke down”

“Oh, that’s terrible!” Alex’s mom immediately commented.

“One of my friends is a mechanic! I’ll call him and tell him to come here and have a look” Alex’s dad, promptly suggested.

“No need to rush, sir. Really. No one is expecting me at home, so I’m in no hurry” Ben almost innocently replied in front of all that kindness, not thinking about how terrible his situation sounded from outside.

Alex had snapped her head in his direction, not sure she had heard correctly. When Ben met her worried gaze, he immediately said:

“Not a big deal, no need to be preoccupied. Everything is… fine”

“Don’t be ridiculous, no one should be alone on Christmas! You can stay here with us. Alex what do you think?” her mom kindly offered and Alex could not stop the redness that spread all over her cheeks.

Jason smirked when she saw her blushing.

Alex looked up at Ben, who shrugged his shoulder and she found herself sighing in defeat.

Her heart had won another match.

“You can stay. If you want”

On Ben’s lips crept a smile so big, that he thought he would have burst of happiness in a couple of seconds.

“I can’t even find the words to thank you right now,” he then said, diverting his eyes from Alex to her family.

“Oh don’t worry, dear. It’s a pleasure – Alex’s mum said walking closer to hug him – George, Jason, ask him if he needs help with the luggage and Alex, come in the kitchen and add one more seat for tonight’s dinner” she added, plucking Ben’s cheek.

“At your orders” Jason answered and took his coat. Once he was close enough, he elbowed Alex who reserved him an immediate middle finger.

Ben laughed under his breath and it was in that moment that Alex thought about one thing. She took him by the sleeve of the jacket and, as he was about to step out and guide Alex’s brother and dad to his car, she pulled him down and whispered:

“How did you know my address?”

Ben flushed and, nervously adjusting his scarf, he caressed the back of his neck and replied:

“That’s actually a pretty funny story”

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halethkickass · 4 years

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Too Long a Winter (reposted with permission from Clotho)

I found this wonderful fic on http://clotho123.tripod.com/mainlist1/winter.htm and the author kindly gave me permission to share it here on Tumblr. The story is phenomenally well-written and the characterization is excellent. I especially appreciate the dynamic between Maedhros and Maglor, which is far less sentimental and much more in line with how I tend to head-canon them than that of most fics I have read. The story is told from the perspective of a human warrior dwelling in Himring, which lends an interesting viewpoint to the elves we are used to seeing through the eyes of a somewhat removed historian.

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Himring is not a good place for old men. Often I think of riding south again, to the Estolad where there are fewer cold winds to piece my aching bones and no long stone stairs to climb. Yet to leave would mean never again to see the morning sun on silver stone, or turn a corner at night to see a solitary lamp shine on the carved street before me, or watch the magic the Strangers work as they coax flowers to grow on rock itself.

It does help me having lodgings in the summit halls. Himring is steep: in the town that lies beneath the peak a paved courtyard will prove to be the roof of the house below, nor is it rare to walk down long stairs and find yourself upon a deep balcony. All space is used for dwellings, although all dwellings will be filled only at the height of siege. Himring was built as a place of refuge as well as a stronghold; it has been full enough these last years. It is fortunate my duties can be discharged with goodwill on the summit where the High Hall rises in the silver rock. My mind goes often to the past now, recalling more clearly than for many years, the wonder I felt to see how so much if the city had been cut from the rock as it stood, the very contours of the stone summit kept alive. Yet Himring is no hidden city, it stands proud as an eagle upon a crag, keeping watch on the lands below.

The Midwinter festival would have been well attended even in the better times before the peace was broken; now the High Hall will be full indeed. It is one thing they have learned from us, the great feast of fire at the year’s darkest point, and they celebrate it much as we do, even if some of the older ones like to recall the days when there were no seasons. We have no tales even of that time, so such stories mark more deeply how much they differ.

The green boughs are another of traditions they have borrowed although I recall from my gathering days that they practice it differently, each bough chosen with care, seldom more than two from one tree or bush and from some none at all. “Trees,” one said to me once, “ can spare a limb if chosen right, indeed are often the better for it, but why would anyone wish to leave a tree limbless?” The gathered braches look strangely fitting in the High Hall, for the rock-cut columns are carved as tree trunks, not all alike but trees of all kinds: oak and birch, beech, ash and pine. With the evergreen boughs in place it will be a strange kind of forest in which we sit to feast.

As I turned to leave the half-prepared hall I heard my name spoken sharply. A little too sharply in truth, my sight is thankfully still good enough, but not so my hearing and I guessed I must have failed to hear at least one call. That is not fortunate with this speaker.

“Lord Makalaurë,” I greeted him. He insists on being addressed by the High form of his name, although everyone calls him Maglor outside his hearing.

“Headman Hallach.” I still hold the title of Headman for the Edain of Himring although Berach my nephew leads them in war. He was out of the citadel of course; with fighting so constant he is rarely here. “We have had word my brothers in the south will not be joining us for the feasting,” Lord Maglor continued, “so that will lessen the amount of accommodation that you will need to find.”

“We could have housed them,” I said, “but it is better to know beforehand.” Our word ‘inhuman’ is an old one, from the times before we came to these lands, it carries a meaning of something that is uncanny, disturbing. It is held impolite to use it of Elves but it is seldom far from my mind when speaking to this one. Like most of his kind he is handsome with black hair and winged brows that highlight the mobility of his features; still he is unsettling, even to one like myself who has lived amongst the Strangers for most of my life. I cannot put it better than to say it is as though he is constantly listening to a tune that only he can hear, and thinks the less of others for being deaf to it. In fairness, these days I unsettle him too, for he is one of those who are disturbed to the point of disgust by mortal aging although he would feel it beneath him to lessen his courtesy.

“Do you know when my brother is expected back?” he asked.

“No more than you, although I am sure he will be in time for the feasting.”

“Of course,” he said. “But I would wish to see him earlier. Erestor does not know when he will return either. It is inconsiderate.” It was an unfair complaint, as he must have known. A survey of territories, half visit, half scouting expedition, could not be completed to set times and his brother never dawdled not even with snow falling every day upon the hills. We would always vary those chosen to ride with the lord of Himring, for no-one was expect to make two such exhausting rides in succession. Knowing it unlikely that Lord Maglor’s temper would improve during the feasting time I found myself regretting we would not be joined by the twin lords who would have provided some leavening. The absence of Lord Caranthir was less regrettable as no-one would count on his presence to prevent family arguments.

We parted politely. With so much else lost it is petty to regret that the great reverse has led to Lord Maglor being permanently at Himring, but it does nothing to make the mood easier.

~~~

The Feast was much needed. Enough time has passed since the great reverse that the remembrance is no longer a dark cloud on the spirits, at least for mortals; but still the presence of war seems nearer, the mood at Himring darker, than in the days when I first came here from the south. Perhaps that is only an old man talking, but certainly both peoples thronged to the gathering, eager to forget the wars awhile.

The Strangers are masters of light, although I have never known one who feared the dark, and the light in the High Hall was rich and golden. Mead and wines from the south flowed freely, although some of my kindred preferred their ale, and there was no shortage of meat and pastry. Their feasts, however, are not for the belly alone; there was much song and music, dancing, laughter and re-telling of tales. A hall full Elves singing in harmony is not to be forgotten, it almost makes me understand that odd tale that the world was created by a song. By long custom the songs and tales at the Midwinter feast are of good cheer, it is a time to look forward and to hope.

It was the third evening when Lord Maglor took the harp. No, in fact he had taken it on the first two evenings also, but only for a brief light song, the third evening was the time that mattered. I had heard him sing many times, and what they say of him is not too great praise, indeed it falls short as all words must. A singer to draw the stars from the skies and turn back the moon in its course, a singer to make stones dance and streams stand still, despair laugh for joy and gladness weep like rain. Not that he unleashed his full power every time he sang, that third night was the first time that Midwinter.

He sang in the High Tongue, as he always does which makes his power to move Men the more remarkable. Few of us have mastered more of that tongue than a few words and commonly used phrases, such as war cries, and in that I am no different. Yet what he sang was a lament as plainly as the night is dark. The grief wailed in the strings and wept in words beyond my understanding, and through my tears I saw the whole hall was weeping, Men and Elves alike, weeping silently, some with faces hidden by a cloak fold, or buried in their hands or arms. Erestor, the castellan, seemed completely overwhelmed, nor was he the only one among the elf kind. Recalling the scene now it seems to me that the ones we call Flame-eyed, who have dwelt in the West, made up the greatest part of those who had abandoned themselves completely to grief, yet in light of how deeply moved my own senses were I cannot swear my memory is true.

After the song ended, as the nameless mourning at last released its spell, my eyes cleared enough to see the only one who seemed unmoved. Maedhros sat upright and tearless in his accustomed place at the high table, only his face was locked in an intense stillness which showed to one who had dwelt in Himring many years how hard he had bitten down to hide all feeling. He sat with his right elbow resting on the table, forearm upraised so the light fell on the marvellously worked copper sheath that covered it almost entirely. With the copper circlet on his russet hair he looked every bit the King of the West March his followers call him.

“Remarkable as always,” he said in the cool even tone that spoke of steel control. “Could do with a little taughtening in the central section still, you are capable of better rhythms.”

Maglor’s expression hardened and as they met each other’s eyes it seemed the winter outside entered the room. In that moment they looked very much alike, and no fool would have mistaken either of them for young.

“You take a pride in it, brother, do you not,” Maglor said at last in a tone smooth as gold. “You think you are the better that old loyalties, true duties, have been ripped from you and burned to cinders.”

Maedhros’s voice was cold as snow upon the high peaks, “If to spellcraft tears at time of festival is loyalty, Maglor, then I will not disagree.” Spellcraft was close to being insult, the word was not used of things natural. “Well, tears it must be for this night. Bron, give us a song of your people.”

The young harper thus commanded was one of the followers of Bor only lately taken service with Lord Maglor. It seemed to me hard to give him such a command and I wondered if he would be able to obey, but it seemed he took it with pride, as a young brave might accept the most dangerous post in battle. I doubt if any in the hall paid much heed to his song though.

The next day I cornered Castellan Erestor. Although he is one of the Flame-eyed who have dwelt in the West he seems less far removed from our kind than many Elves.

“What,” I said “was that about? What was that song?”

“The song?” said Erestor. He seemed to consider for a long time. I waited. Elves cannot be rushed. “The song was a lament for their father. For Fëanor.”

“For Fëanor?” I had heard tales, but only fragments. Fëanor was dead before the first Men came to Beleriand from the east. Maedhros speaks of him very rarely, and then in the calm tone he might use for a passing acquaintance, dead long ago. “A lament was a poor choice for a feast, but is that all?”

“No,” said Erestor. “The lament praised his skill, and his courage against the creatures of Morgoth, but it praised also his steadfastness in upholding what was due to him, his intolerance of weakness or those that followed with half a heart.”

“I begin to see, I think. That could seem reproach to his brother, for letting the kingship pass from their house.” I knew that much of their history.

“It was a more than reproach, and not for the first time. Lord Maglor has seldom agreed with his brother’s choices.”

“Yet he remains at Himring.”

“Whilst Lothlann is in enemy hands he will remain, I think.” A mortal would probably have sighed at this point. “You do not need to be told it makes matters difficult, Hallach. At least when all the brothers are present Maglor and Celegorm spend half their time quarrelling with one another.”

After we had parted I spent some time thinking over this, and all the other things known of the king and his next brother. I had come to Himring, following the tradition of my house, with a head full of tales. Not all were reliable, or true at all, and of those which were true I knew only a small part. But I had heard truly that Maglor the Singer was of all the East lords the most likely to be found riding or fighting with his brother Maedhros Left-hand. I had thought that meant they must be close friends; it is more like the old saying ‘keep your enemy close in sight.’

True, that is not entirely fair, but the years have shown me Elves are not as unlike us as the first meetings make all Men think, so it should not have surprised me that where brothers are closest in age the divisions are bitterest. So it is with myself and my nearest brother, although we are brothers still and would not hesitate to unite against any outside challenge. How far this ran true with the Elf lords is hard to say, certainly the divisions between them made my own with my brother seem nothing at all. I knew at least that Lord Maglor did not spend time with his brother Maedhros for the pleasure of shared company.

~~~

Two days later they walked in while I was listing the new recruits from my southern kindred in one of the summit chambers, one with walls painted so you seem to look out on scenes of moonlight. It was still being made when I first came here, and I recall my surprise to see the Lord of Himring himself working on one of the painted scenes, completing the figure of an owl with the lightest of brush strokes. He laughed at my expression and told me, “The need to create is never far from any Noldo. I cannot claim my skill is remarkable, but it suffices.”

Between the work and my hardness of hearing I was not aware of their approach until they had already entered. As a young man I would have been abashed and slipped away, but being no longer young stayed at the table. Since they were arguing in the High Tongue it was impossible to tell what they were saying in any case.

Lord Maglor does not shout. Family meetings have been known to make the castle walls shake, but most of the yelling is done by Celegorm and Caranthir, although Maedhros can raise his voice loud enough when he wishes. Maglor makes his arguments with level quiet. It does not do him any good: he never wins. Although there is nothing at all amusing about the lord of Lothlann in his moods of cold attack, he does make me think at times at times of a pair of young dogs I once owned. The smaller of the two would attack the other over and over, without any warning; he never won the battles but he kept it up in the constant hope that one day he would win after all.

Whilst my mind had been running on that as my mind often runs on these days, the quarrel seemed to be reaching some kind of high point. I have seen Maglor in battle and his face as he skewered the orcs of the enemy had not seemed any less pleasant. I could not understand the words he was using, but took their meaning as clearly as the meaning of his lament in the great hall. Maedhros’s answer was short and very ugly. Again I could not understand the words, nor I am sure did Maglor, but that was unneeded.

Elves do not have curse words. The need for them is something they seem to have discovered only in these lands. Most of those who feel that need use words they have learned from us. I have heard Lord Curufin use the dwarf tongue at times, although with that speech it is possible that what sounds like a curse may be merely ‘Good Morning.’ I have never heard Maedhros use mannish curse words, nor have I ever known him lose control. He had not used the Black Speech lightly.

I looked at Maglor and felt sure he had been shaken although he tried to cover it. Maedhros took advantage to follow through with two or three short, cold sentences in the High Tongue. Maglor’s reply was sharp, but he sounded wrong-footed, and after a brief, savage final exchange he flung out of the room.

Maedhros did not attempt to ignore my presence, instead he took a flagon and poured half a cup of wine for me and some into a second cup for himself.

“I would not have chosen for you to hear that, Hallach, but I do not suppose it surprised you.”

“I cannot say I understood what passed, my lord,”

“You may not have known the words, but you understood enough.”

Even Elves, even the Flame-eyed, have been known to speak of something unsettling about the presence of Maedhros of the East March. It is not the same quality possessed by his brother; perhaps it is not so much any quality that differs from others of his kind as that he possesses their qualities more intensely, or that there is in him less of a barrier between the world and the thing Elves call the spirit. There is a force about most of the Flame-eyed like a high wind or a river in spate, but with Maedhros it is like facing into the wind directly instead of being in the lee of a wall, or seeing a flame that is naked rather than one held in a horn lantern.

I have served him most of my life and followed him into battle even when none thought that we could win. And the old, I have learned, do not feel awe easily “He has never forgiven you for yielding the kingdom,” I said.

“That is part of it, although we were not on the most easy of terms before.” His tone was matter-of-fact. “Maglor would not even like to be king. He is like our father in that way, the duties of kingship would take time from the works where his heart truly lies, and he would resent that. No, the injury is to his pride and there is small healing there.”

He drained the cup. “There was a time,” he said, “when fighting with my brothers was invigorating. Like a day’s hard riding or a successful skirmish. Now it grows wearisome, the more so because I fear for them. They may lose us the war yet.”

We are used to thinking of the Strangers as changeless, and as my limbs ache more and more and my hearing fails I cannot but envy them, ever young as they are, forever straight of back and free in movement. It does not do to dwell on the envy, some of my kin have been eaten up with bitterness as they grow older and that does no good to anyone. I have looked at them and have seen only the constants, now for the first time I wondered if there have been changes. Lord Maglor was never on friendly terms with his brother; I could not say if there have been changes beyond what would be expected from his being so continually at Himring. Maedhros the king, has he changed? Am I right to think there are more times of cold control, such as he showed his brother in the hall?

“Perhaps we should retake Lothlann before Thargelion,” I said. The plans for recapture of the lost lands are still in an early stage and known only to a few, it had not been settled which lands to retake first.

Maedhros laughed, with genuine amusement. “No, strategy had better not be determined by which of my brothers is most annoying at present, tempting though it is. Which is taken first must depend on the Naugrim; we will need their aid to retake Thargelion. If I cannot convince them to give it until we can show them victories then we must retake Lothlann first, but it would be easier to take Lothlann if we already have Thargelion.” His voice took on a wry tone as he added, “Whichever we take first Maglor and Caranthir will quarrel violently.”

Whichever we took would be a hard campaign, with Dorthonion in enemy hands. He spoke as if there was no doubt of victory, but it is the task of a leader to show confidence.

“It must be soon, with or without the Naugrim” he went on “We cannot afford to leave Morgoth with the upper hand for long. I will go to Belegost.” Although he still spoke calmly I recalled that we cannot expect Angband to rest quiet now the Siege is broken. Himring is strong, but Angband is stronger and the alliance among the elf-kind is vulnerable. For the first time I was glad of my mortal age, and the thought that I would most likely not see what lay ahead. He would see it.

“I will fetch the latest maps, and Castellan Erestor if he can be found,” I said, “we can work on possible plans for a while.” Inwardly I resigned myself to loss of sleep, no elf ever remembers how much more of it we need.

The maps are kept in a chamber painted as a glade in springtime. I lingered for a while after I had found the ones wanted, and hoped that when spring came indeed it would bring promise of the victories that all within these walls would need.

Endnote: Just to say there is canon evidence (admittedly slight) for Maedhros being styled king, and also for the retaking of Lothlann and Thargelion

Source: http://clotho123.tripod.com/mainlist1/winter.htm

#maedhros #maglor #himring #silmarillion

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jokertrap-ran · 4 years

Photo

A3! (Act! Addict! Actors!) VIVID WINTER EP LIMITED Guy SR【VIVID WINTER】『NIGHT FLOWER〜Ranunculus〜/ 2』

*Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Name will remain as my normal ( ラン ) *Ranunculus is a Persian Buttercup

Part 1 / Part 2

Ran: Wow! It looks like something right out of a fantasy!

Guy: You’re right, it is breath-taking.

Tsumugi: Where should we go first?

Tasuku: We all have different objectives here, so how about we decide on a time to gather back together and head off on our own?

Ran: That sounds like a logical plan.

Tsumugi: Let’s all gather back here when the time’s up.

Guy: Understood.

Tasuku: Okay.

‿︵ ‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵ ‿︵ ‿︵

Ran: (Whoa, this flower here’s really stunning!)

???: I know, right?

Ran: (Hmm…? This voice sounds familiar?)

Guy: “Behold, my stunning petals.”

Ran: (That’s Guy-san’s voice, just like I thought. He seems to be practicing, how hardworking…)

Guy: –!

Ran: Ah, oops! Sorry for getting in the way of your practi-

Guy: “Heh, am I really that bedazzling, for you to be staring at me so intensely like that?”

Ran: (Oh. He’s really into his role right now.)

Ran: Yes. I want to look at you for a little while more…

Guy: “You’re very welcome to think of me as such, for I only grow in popularity when I manage to attract the crowd to gaze upon me.”

Ran: (He’s playing the role of someone who boasts confidence in their own being…Maybe it’s because Guy-san’s the one who’s acting this out, but this is certainly something new.)

Guy: …Or so. I’m thinking about going in this direction, at least.

Ran: It’s really like a breath of fresh air for you to be playing a role that’s so proud and confident. You volunteered for the role of the Ranunculus, didn’t you?

Guy: I did. It’s a memorable flower to me. Other than the fact that it’s being grown in the dormitory’s courtyard, I’ve also recently recalled something–

‿︵ ‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵ ‿︵ ‿︵

–It was back in Zafra, when I was still living as an android.

I bumped into a young boy as I was making my way along the road.

“Whoa! Sorry…!”

In his hand, was a yellow flower. A single stalk.

“You have my apologies.”

I gave him a curt apology and was about to continue on my way when he grabbed my arm.

“I…I got separated from my father…”

“……”

He told me that he wanted me to search for his father, together with him.

–I didn’t know how to respond to the term “Father”.

But I was already walking in tandem with him, despite how I had vehemently said that his separation from his father had absolutely nothing to do with me. At least until we found him.

It had been his mother’s birthday, that fateful day. He came here together with his father to purchase the yellow flowers that his mother adored.

“They say that in the language of flowers, these ones mean that you’re charming!”

His face lit up as we walked.

And he told me that, with an expression of utmost joy.

“Is that so?”

“Oh! Father!”

“I was looking all over for you! Thank god you’re alright… Were you the one that watched over my son for me? Thank you!”

“I do not require your thanks.”

I watched as the young boy’s father clutched firmly onto his hand once they were reunited.

Watching, as they headed off into the distance; until I could see them no longer.

I’m fairly certain that some part of me had been envious of him back then.

My chest had constricted a little.

But I couldn’t fathom the reason why I felt that way, back then…

(There’s a minor bug in my system It seems like I require a defragmentation.)

And thus, I convinced myself as such.

‿︵ ‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵ ‿︵ ‿︵

Guy: …I’d forgotten about it, but the flower that boy told me about the other day was none other than a Ranunculus.

Ran: So something like that actually happened…

Guy: I’ve come to understand plenty about how charming the Ranunculus is on it’s own.

Guy: “You’re absolutely charming beyond compare” and “Beauty that simply cannot be captured”. I’m sure it must boast a great deal of confidence, from what I can glean from its meaning in the language of flowers.

Guy: I thought it would be great if I had such a great deal of confidence like that one day.

Ran: Guy-san…

Guy: Right, speaking of which, Yukishiro did say that this flower resonates well with me. I’ve still yet to grasp the meaning of his words, but-

Ran: I think he’s right on the dot.

Guy: ……?

Ran: You’re plenty charming. I’ve always thought so, from when I first saw you till now. That hasn’t changed. I mean, that’s why even Azusa-san himself, said that the Ranunculus’ perfectly suited for you.

Guy: …I’m glad you feel that way.

Guy: I think I can slowly regain the human heart that dwells within me, as long as I remain in this company.

Guy: And, I also want to learn more about the various emotions out there.

Guy: I’ll continue to be in your care.

Ran: Of course.

Ran: We’ll still continue to welcome you with open arms as a member of the MANKAI Company…as one of our own, our family.

Guy: Yeah.

Tsumugi: There they are! Have you all gone a complete round through here yet?

Tasuku: It’s about time to leave.

Guy: Time passes way too quickly.

Ran: Right? Let’s do our best for the actual skit, everyone!

Tsumugi: Yup.

Tasuku: Yeah.

Guy: I’ll put all my effort into it.

#A3!#Act! Addict! Actors!#A-three #Otome #Translations #エースリー #Guy #Hino Satoshi

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skiesoftwilight · 5 years

Text

Let Me Help You (Connor Kenway)

Word Count: 2779

••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A long and slow exhale of air came from in between your lips while you leaned over to pick up the tiny wicker basket filled with wet linen at your feet; the strain on your lower back was only for a moment, but you could feel the after effects on your whole body as you stood up straight and clutched the basket closely to your side as the child you were carrying had taken up all the space in front of your body.

Your gentle (E/C) eyes tossed a soft glance down at your prominent belly and shook your head softly as you thought about how much you had actually grown in the nine months of your pregnancy. One of your hands came to cradle your bump for a brief moment as you felt the baby move around; soft whimpers came your mouth as you could feel your stomach harden with the baby’s movements. With the way the baby keeps on moving, you could tell that you were going to be due any day now, but it wasn’t going to stop you from moving around like you normally would do.

With your bearings and breath collected you picked up your thin coat on the hook next to the back door of the manor and tossed it on top of the basket and made your way outside to the clothesline to finish hanging up the rest of the clothes you had just finished washing. It was your last chore of the evening and you wanted to make sure that you finished it before Connor came home from being in town.

The gentle autumn winds flirted with the hem of your skirt as it lifted it up a couple of inches off the ground before letting it settle down again. The breeze ran it’s wispy fingers through your (H/C) locks, making the loose strands dance in front of your eyes, causing you to brush them back behind your rosy ears every five minutes. The tangerine sun was slowly making its way over the hills, letting it’s fading rays cast long and thin shadows over the forest around the manor. Winter was quickly approaching and you will soon miss the beautiful scene before your eyes before it gets dark so quickly.

Your nimble fingers began to pull the freshly dried clothes down from the line and toss them on a designated side of the basket; with the myths around pregnant women losing their smarts temporarily, yours were only increasing and it made you work smarter and not harder. As soon as those clothes came down from the line, you were already beginning to put up the wet ones.

The sound of your humming was the only noise in the area as you let yourself get lost in hanging up the wet laundry. You had to set the basket down in order to use both of your hands, so with every article of clothing that you hung up came with added back pain. You didn’t mind too much as you were only thinking about the positives that would come out of your long-term pregnancy. Through all of your pain and discomfort, you would have a sweet child that you could call your own and give all your love to.

The soft crunching of dried leaves and dirt brought you back to the present and put you on alert. You quickly turned around to see that it was only your husband, Connor, quickly approaching you with a disappointed, yet concerned look across his face. Your humming had faded and you knew just by the look on his face that you were in for a stern talking to.

“Oh (Y/N), my love, what are you doing out here? You should be inside resting in bed.” His voice was soft as he came to stand in front of you; he let his hands gently cup your face before bringing his lips down to your forehead, letting them linger there for a moment as he listened to your sigh.

“I am doing the laundry since it had to be done. I cannot lay in bed all day, it would be a day wasted if I did that and you know me, I just cannot sit still.” You chuckled softly as you turned away from him to hang up the article of clothing you still held in your hands. With your hands now free, you took his calloused ones in yours and brought them up to your lips to give them a soft kiss. “I am glad that you are home, I was missing you.”

“I missed you too, I was able to finish up my tasks early and I began to make my way home. I stopped at the store before I did and had gotten us fresh venison for dinner, I hope you don’t mind.” He mentioned, watching your expression to see if you would approve since your taste buds were particularly picky during the last months.

“That sounds delicious. Hopefully, I can keep it down long enough for this child of ours to get some nutrients. I want them to grow nice and strong.” You smiled as you rubbed your belly in a loving manner, watching Connor’s facial features soften at the mention of yours and his child.

“I do too, but I worry about your health as well. Remember that the doctor told you that rest is best for the last couple of months, you do not want to put too much strain on your muscles or any physical stress on the baby.” Connor placed a gentle hand on your arms as you dismissed his worries with a slight wave of your hand.

“I know what I must do, I am just too stubborn to commit to it,” You paused for a brief moment to sneak in a quick bend over to grab some garments from the basket before he could stop you to continue hanging up the clothes, “Anyways, with the size of my belly, I believe that this child is as healthy as they could be and will come out being so.”

Connor lightly chuckled as he lightly placed his hands on your belly to feel how hard it had gotten by you just standing. His rich brown eyes were shimmering in the sunset and made your heart swell even more to know that you had found to love him even more even after all those tumultuous years with his father and the war. He had found his purpose in life as did you and you never knew that you could be so happy.

“Let me help finish this up. I want you to relax and I also want to spend my downtime with you. It has been a while.” He flashed you a soft smile, the one you fell in love with all those years before and it made you weak, but you knew what he was doing and you had to be strong. “I will cook dinner tonight and then since the weather is getting colder, we can sit by the fireplace.”

You hummed in response to his sweet offer, but instead of giving in handing over the clothes in your hand, you hung them up yourself, trying to finish the task by yourself by stalling. “That sounds very delightful, Connor, really, but I must refuse for the time being. I wish to do this all by myself; it gives me time to have some fresh air, and from what I heard from my mother and other women in town is that being active all the way up to the birth is beneficial as it cuts down on how long the actual birth takes, they have told me that it ranges from hours to days.”

“Oh you do not have to listen to those women in town, I know they are lovely, but that just means that they did not listen to the doctor as well.” He shrugged his shoulders as he picked up the basket and held it up so you didn’t have to bend down all the way to the ground to grab the clothes. “I know that you sometimes chose the advice you want to listen to if you listen at all,” you interrupted him with a brief scoff, but he continued, “but the advice you are listening to is not coming from a professional. You should just take it easy for the rest of the night, I will take over the rest.”

“Connor, I promise I am fine.”

His silence caught you off guard as you rotated the line for more space; only a sigh of defeat came to reach your ears and a small smile came to your lips. “Alright, I must take your word for it then.” He handed you the basket and slowly started to back away, “Are you sure that you do not need help?”

“Connor, I will be fine. Do you not have anyone else to be minding at the moment other than me? You should as Miriam, she might need help hunting and gathering for the winter.” He told him as he let out a sigh he turned his back and was made his way back up to the manor. He told you to call out for him if you needed anything, but you just dismissed him as he stood on the porch, watching you for a moment before retreating back inside from the cool breeze.

You felt bad that you had to turn him down with all his worry for you, but you knew that you had to do things on your own and that you were too stubborn to listen. He was such a kind soul, but he could be so overprotective of you that it drove you up the wall at times, but you were grateful for in overall.

While you were hanging up the last couple of articles of clothing, pain rooted at the center of your belly grew intense and made you double over, cradling your rock hard belly; the baby was moving all over the place, trying to get comfortable, but it was taking longer than usual and it made you worried. You dropped the basket to get both of your hands on your stomach to try and calm your unborn child, but nothing would give.

“Connor!”

You called out to him, but before you could finish his name, he was already out the back door and halfway towards you right before you fell to your knees in pure pain. He glued himself to your side as you laid your head against his chest to find comfort.

“Is it the baby? Are they coming?” He threw questions at you left and right, and the best response you could find for his answers was brief grunts of yes and no.

“They are moving like crazy and it hurts, feel,” You quickly took hold of his hand and placed it on the area where you could feel the baby’s limbs pushing against your stomach. Connor froze in place as he felt his child kick his hand like crazy; you could’ve sworn that you saw him tear up at the sudden sensation, but he turned away too quickly to tell. “It hurts so much, I--I must sit down.”

Connor’s stern gaze snapped back at you so quickly that you were convinced that he had it prepared for the longest. He didn’t say anything to you but mumble under his breath about how you never listen and that he is always right. You hushed him as you got up and walked slowly beside him to the porch steps and took a seat on the plush chair that he pulled out of the house just for you. He kneeled beside you and gently rubbed your belly in a soothing way that was calming the raging baby inside you.

“Keep doing that, it’s working.” You urged him to continue as you shifted in your seat to get more comfortable. A long breath of air came from your lungs as you were finally able to take a deep breath once again.

“I knew that something was going to happen sooner or later,” Connor said out loud, shaking his head with a small upturn of his lips, “but someone never listens, do they?”

“Oh, hush, I just wanted to be independent for the time being,” You admitted to him, making him stop rubbing your belly for a brief moment, “You have been a great help to me, but I do wish to have some time of my own and I do not want to burn out your caring side before the baby arrives. I’m sorry if I was a bit mean to you in these last months.”

“It is quite alright, I understand. I just want what is best for you and our child, that is all. I want to bring this child into a world that is filled with peace and make sure they are healthy. I wish for them to have a fighting chance in this cruel world, something that I never really had.” He confessed to you, making you feel even more guilty for pushing his worries to the side in the way that you did.

“Oh Connor, you will be an amazing father, I know it. You do not have to worry about our child struggling, we have buried our pasts deep under us and we were able to rise above it all. Our child will have a bright future, I am sure of it.” You placed your smooth hand over his and looked deep into his eyes with a sincere smile.

You slowly leaned down to give him a kiss on his lips, but you were stopped halfway by your bulging belly. A fit of giggles crawled from your lungs as you stared down at your belly before bringing your mirthful gaze back to his. He caught on and quickly rose off his knees to meet you halfway in your passionate kiss. It was simple, yet filled with love that had no limit.

“I believe that our child has finally settled in for the night,” you spoke softly, making sure that you did not jinx yourself; your hands came to rest gently on the crown of your belly to feel for yourself, “I guess that it is time I do so myself.”

“That sounds like a good decision,” Connor sighed while he rose to his feet, “Let me help you inside.”

“I can get there myself, Connor.”

All he did was cast you a stern gaze before shaking his head with a playful manner. “I know you can, but I believe that you have finally overworked yourself. Let me help you, just for the rest of the night.”

“Alright,” A soft sigh of defeat came from your lips while you held out your hands for Connor to take to help you up from the chair. He pulled you flush against his chest and rubbed your lower back as he guided you back inside the house; he maintained a firm grip on your hand as you walked through the door, telling you to make your way to the foyer to lie down on the more comfortable couch.

“I will be back in just a few moments, I promise. I am going to head to Miriam’s to see if she can just keep an eye on you until I finish in the back and dinner. You just stay here and do not move.”

“Oh, Connor--”

“I’m taking care of you for the night, so there will be no refusals.”

His soft smile brought yours with a slight chuckle before you called him back to you once more to give him a kiss and promise him that you would finally settle down for the night. You sent him on his way with telling him to be careful and that you’ll be sitting on that couch when he returned. The moment he left the room, you were saddened that he had left you alone again, but grateful that you had found such a caring and passionate man as himself to take care of you and love you for the rest of your life, especially since you liked to test your limits.

The moment that the front door slammed shut, your curious gaze danced over to the bowl of fruit that sat on the kitchen table in the other room. With a finger pulling down your bottom lip, your mind was thinking about getting up and snatching some for the time being or to actually listen to Connor and not move an inch… Connor would understand, right?

#Asssassin's Creed #Assassins creed imagine #AC3 #Connor Kenway #Connor #Connor Kenway imagine #Connor imagine #Connor Kenway x reader #Connor x reader

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heartbreak-of-a-marauder · 4 years

Text

What Lurks in the Dark

Type: One-shot/short story

Summary: Short story inspired by the Gothic genre. The Moonhurt Masquerade Ball gives everyone a chance to hide their true nature. The freezing moors and maze-like castle hide a dark secret, and no living soul knows what lurks in the dark.

Words: 1005

~*~*~*~*~

The carriage pulled along by two charcoal black mares crunched along the gravel driveway as we slowly travelled towards Moonhurst Castle. It stood alone on the barren moors, its only companion was the stone and wrought iron fencing, the moon’s silver rays pierced through the black clouds illuminating the castle. It stood out as an imposing figure against its desolate backdrop. The tallest spire reaching up into the heavens, as if to join the God’s. The mismatched shapes of the windows decorated its front and reflected the moon’s invasive rays; a mirror. It was a magnificent building.

As I stepped out of the carriage, a masked servant ushered me up the stone steps and through the ornate doors. Once inside, he took my cloak and led me towards the Grand Hall. Even as I stood on its threshold, I could not fully view the sea of people in front of me. The rich smells of food, fine wines and floral perfumes permeated the air. Standing on the edge of the throng, I strained to take in the sight before me; everyone wore elaborate masks that concealed their identities. Some were sculpted into distorted expressions – snarls, laughter, hopeless wails. While others were intricately painted with scenes of animals, beaches, insects. One thing was certain. These people were strangers of the night.

I skirted the edge of the room towards one of the majestic windows. Looking out, I could see right across the grounds. A winter fog was beginning to creep across the moor, swallowing up the boundaries. The black clouds that had once blanketed the sky had dispersed allowing a full moon to come into view. The cold light illumined the low fog as wisps danced across the green undergrowth that was the desolate moors. The shadow of bare trees stood out against the stark white ocean of fog, their spindly branches forming claw-like hands.

As I gazed out into the night a feeling of restlessness settled over my being, turning around I was confronted with the other guests still being merry, the group parted for a moment, revealing a man smartly dressed in a black baroque frock, and flowing black hair framed his smiling mask. The gap in the crowd closed momentarily; once the dancers had twirled past the mysterious gentleman had vanished. I fervently scan the mass before me but still cannot locate the same smiling mask. Feeling that superstitious thoughts were beginning to cloud my judgement, I make my way over to the nearest chaise lounge. The plush red velvet chair came into view an unfamiliar hand took hold of mine and pulled me into the depths of the horde. I was spun once before I came face to face with the elegantly painted smile I had been searching for.

“I do apologise if my brashness caused you any distress, Mademoiselle,” he said in a heavily accented voice as one of his hands assumed its position on my waist.

“It’s quite alright Sir, I was just a little surprised,” I replied, touching a hand to my chest; rhythmic thumping could be felt through my gloves.

“Where are my manners? I am Lord Sheldrake,” he stated proudly.

“I am very glad that I have the pleasure of sharing this dance with you Mademoiselle Aldridge. Your brother was a good friend of mine… you have my condolences.”

I paused in amazement. Only our immediate family knew that Charles had succumbed to his fever.

“You seem surprised.” I could almost hear the smirk in his voice.

“Very perceptive my Lord.” I smiled back

As we danced, I began to notice the silvery strands of hair that mingled with his dark locks and how the paint on his mask was not as pristine as I had thought. The white base had begun to grey with age, fine cracks riddled the paintwork. The brightly painted eyes weren’t as glossy and vibrant as I had initially perceived, giving them an unnerving edge. The longer I looked, the more sinister the grin became.

“Come. I have some of Charles’ effects I think you should have” His larger hand tightened around my smaller one as he guided us back out of the gathering.

We seemed to walk forever. Up staircases, through dimly lit corridors, further into the belly of the castle. When we finally reached our destination, he released my hand. Even though his broad back concealed him, I saw the lip of the mask rise about his head. He was no longer a stranger.

When he turned around I was met by the most horrific sight. His leather coloured skin was taut and sallow, with places turning black as it withered and rotted away. His eyes were milky and glazed with calcification. Greying gums and pearly white teeth sat perfectly behind shrivelled black lips. I scrambled into the nearest room, slamming the door behind me. Turning, I was met by eerie darkness – my eyes struggling to adjust to the absence of light. I slumped against the door, the corset of my dress acted as a belt, restricting my breathing. My nails dug painfully into the door at my back. I tried to calm myself but the laws of logic could not, did not apply to what I saw. It was surely not of this world.

Shakily, I turned the handle and peeked out. All the candles had gone out, plunging the corridor into the darkness. Only the sound of my ragged breathing could be heard. I turned to go the opposite way to the creature only to have long fingers close around my upper arm. I was unable to move as I came face to face with the charlatan. His other hand fisted in my hair pulling my head back with unimaginable force; the dull throb of pressure formed on my scalp. His monstrous features disappeared from view as his head lowered. A chill began to creep through my body. My breathing became increasingly shallow. Vision blurred. The last thing I saw was the creature regenerating to its sinister beauty.

#gothic #gothic work #gothic aesthetic #short story #one-shot #one shot #creature #castles #masquerade #masquerade ball #victorian era

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lucienfairfax · 5 years

Text

garth’s diary, encrypted

extract one

I suspect I will live a long time -- intentionally, or not. Already, it is tempting to forget; with the passage of time, it will become easier. Perhaps if I keep a diary, then I cannot forget.

The brand of exile is on my back, where I cannot see it. A grave error. I should always be forced to look upon it. I should always remember their crumbling bodies in my hands, their ashes in my lungs.

I should stop studying. But I will not. Something good must come of this.

extract two

Perhaps there is no good in wallowing. It is enough that I remember; my punishment is a life without them, a banishéd wanderer, whose shadow is death. I must atone. I only atone by moving forward.

I took up with a caravan. They do not know who I am. When they stopped to trade, I heard my story from the lips of a merchant -- Samarkin currency, heavy with value, the story of a Willworker whose anam was warped by the Red hands of Los.

I am the villain of cautionary tales. Beware hubris.

extract three

A courier found me in the port city. An Alban aristocrat heard my tale from a travelling merchant, but did not seem to understand its message. He thinks me a scholar and an adept, and he wants me.

He is... not wrong, but he surely would not want the assistance of someone like me. I will not write him back.

extract four

I confess it. I did write him back. And now I am on a ship, for the first time in my wretched life. To Albion.

extract five

Lucien Fairfax -- he will not let me call him ‘Lord’, though everyone else does -- is a sorrowful man, a curséd man, and I feel... less lonely. I am afraid of this, afraid this will again lead me astray, but the fear isn’t enough. I am human and I crave understanding.

But he is also... a crazed man. He wishes to transcend death. He is enamoured of the Archons of Albion’s Old Kingdom, who saw their civilisation destroyed in their quests for greater power and might. The Court of the Void had only been attracted to the corruption that already existed.

I am afraid of Lucien. --No; that is not the truth of it. I am afraid for Lucien.

extract six

I am right to be fearful. This Sight of mine has always been a double-edged sword, but now it is almost accusatory. It knows I can See what it is showing me, and it knows that I choose to ignore it for now.

But... if someone had seen what was happening to me, and knew it for what it was, and had done everything in their power to try to keep me from it... perhaps I would not have done what I did.

I must have hope. For him. For... me.

extract seven

Lucien’s obsession grows worse. We have found his Tattered Spire, deep in the oceans. It is primordial now, having returned to its original state of malleability, lying in wait for... someone like him. I felt it awaken to his questing. It is glad to be found. It is glad to be found by someone like him.

I can no longer ignore what I See. Corruption squeezes his heart like an overeager lover, pushing away all else but the desire for power -- power to change the world, yes, but for whose sake?

extract eight

I thought that there is no way I could possibly cause any harm here. I was merely a research assistant, a passive agent. It did not help that I knew little of Albion save for its distant history. I did not realise how thin it would be, how chaotic and warped the anam of the land would be, after so many Corrupt incursions. I did not think of how easy it would be to fall in love with this man who was so much like me, who had also been convinced that he was incorruptible.

I did not think of how falling in love with him would give him power over me, power that I would willingly give just to feel...

Please, Gan, please let him see reason.

extract nine

I tried to be more forceful in my dissent. Lucien has never struck me before, and I was so stunned that in an instant I felt distant from myself -- far away, watching Lucien’s expression change from anger to fear to dismay, watching my lines flare like the noonday sun as my anam surged to protect me... or to lash out in pain.

It is not the slap that hurt, as much as the knowledge that he is too far gone, that I have failed him; and either I stay and do as much damage control as I can, or I leave him and leave Albion to its fate at his hands.

From here, I stand between him and Albion, until he... strikes me down, for good.

extract ten

Sometimes Lucien looks at me with speculation in his eyes. It used to be coy speculation, when he was still here with me, completely. Now it is calculating speculation. He does not see me anymore. He sees what I am, and how it can be used.

And still I remain.

extract eleven

I feel as though I am... fading. My purpose here is becoming less clear. Sometimes I still believe he will listen to me, that he will see reason, that he will look upon his works with sudden dawning horror and turn to me and... it shames me to admit... thank me for staying, for not giving up on him, for pulling him back from the edge.

It is a romantic notion, and I... I am who I am. But I cannot ignore the truth. Lucien Fairfax may have loved me once, but he is incapable of loving me now. The cracks that had appeared in his anam when Helena and Amelia were ripped so cruelly from him had let Corruption in, and he has come to embrace it as his own self.

And still I remain.

extract twelve

He says the Spire sings to him, or thrums like his own heartbeat. The Spire’s song gives me a headache of the most intense proportions. Perhaps there’s hope for me yet, if I am repelled instead of seduced by the Spire’s infernal rhythm.

I remember Lucien’s hands, so gentle and shy as they tried to follow my lines, his eyes crinkling at the corners when they danced away from his touch, then tentatively began to pulse to match his heartbeat. Today, those hands -- now tremulous and gaunt -- gestured roughly to Spire Guards, who executed workers that had dared to stand up to Lucien’s increasingly punishing demands and deplorable work conditions. His eyes were hard and glassy as he watched them die.

“They just don’t understand,” he said, pityingly. Neither do I.

And still I remain.

extract thirteen

My lines move sluggishly, my anam sleeping. I do not feel like myself anymore. I do not remember when I last did.

I report the suicides of workers with a voice I barely recognise as my own. I lie awake and listen to Lucien muttering feverishly nearby, surrounded by books and artefacts. Any research I had been doing on my own, for my own interest, I’ve given up.

What does it matter? What does any of it matter? The world is ending.

extract fourteen

Lucien has become a Will-user.

I almost tell him what happened to me. I almost tell him about the passage rite, the corrupting touch of Los. I almost tell him about the gift Los left me, the grimoire with its black leather cover. (I almost tell him what the leather was made of.) I almost tell him that I knew how it felt to be under the influence of Corruption and think otherwise, to truly believe oneself justified in one’s every action.

I almost tell him how one flare of rage cost me my family, my home, and almost my sanity.

But why would I give him that? He will not listen. He did not even listen years ago, when the merchant told him of me. Perhaps he will even, Gan forbid, laugh at me. And if he did, if he did dare laugh, I may again give in to a flare of rage, that will cost me...

extract fifteen

I have no more sweet words for Lucien, no more appeals to his goodness. My arms still ache to embrace him, but remain stiffly at my sides whenever he is near. This is another form of corruption-- the death of warmth, and the heart grown cold.

When I dream of him falling -- from where, or how, I know not -- I no longer wake with tears in my eyes. The weight of dread still sits on my heart like a stone, but my eyes are dry.

And still... yes. Still I remain.

Where else will I go, when he has taken everything I have?

extract sixteen

Today I stopped Lucien from some horrific experiment he was hellbent on conducting -- I think he wishes to... implant pieces of the Spire into men, to make them... Will-users. I cannot explain why this horrifies me. I cannot even explain why I rose from my recent lassitude to stop him.

I looked upon him, and he looks the same. The same lustrous hair, the same elegant high brow, the same sharp cheekbones and expressive mouth, the same poise and noble carriage.

But he does not look the same. His eyes are like cold iron. His laugh lines have given way to frown lines. He is losing weight, and deep shadows fill the hollows where healthy flesh used to be.

If I were to lay my hand upon his heart, as I once did, I would feel the Spire thrumming under his skin.

extract seventeen

I was out for a walk, the winter air as cold outside as I felt inside, when I heard the window shatter.

I ran back, but I was too late. One child lay murdered in the library. The other...

We are the villains of cautionary tales.

I can no longer remain.

#garth #[garth.lucien]#fable #fable.fic #because lucien's diary needs a counterpart

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fanfoolishness · 5 years

Text

A Candle Bright (Alistair x Brosca)

A Satinalia tale for @moonlightbrunette as part of the SC Holiday Exchange, involving Alistair, Dis Brosca, the Origins crew, a lot of mud, and a little... mistletoe?

***

Dis Brosca let out a small sigh of relief as they crested the hill overlooking Redcliffe, its largest windmill coming into view. Thin wisps of cook-smoke filtered up from the houses below, and a distinct sense of calm came over her as she noticed fishing boats going to and fro on the lake, horses and carts moving in the streets. It was very different from their first arrival, where the town had felt tense and anxious long before they had spoken to any of the villagers.

“They seem to be recovering well,” said Wynne approvingly, gazing down the half-mile path to the village square. “I see they have repaired much of the damage done by the dead. In so short a time, too. I am glad for them.”

“Sure, sure, good for them,” said Oghren, who had not visited Redcliffe before. “Real question is, how’s the ale here?”

“It’s not bad, but we’re only here for the night, Oghren,” said Dis, her breath clouding in the cold air with every word. “No Dust Town dancing.”

“What’s that, then?”

“When a stupid noble gets so drunk he wanders into Dust Town and gets robbed by every man, woman and child. Like he’s dancing with all of us, right?”

Oghren groaned. “You dusters can ruin anything fun,” he laughed, shaking his head.

“We try. Can’t let you nobles be the only ones to step on people.”

“Disgraced noble, runt, and don’t you forget it.”

Alistair glanced down at them both as they walked. “You know, I’m never quite certain if one of you is going to stab the other. Does this banter count as friendly?”

“For dwarves, it does,” assured Oghren.

“Absolutely,” said Dis, nodding.

"If you two say so,” he said as they descended into the outskirts of town. “Looks rather nicer than before, doesn’t it? Like I remember as a boy. And oh -- just look at it! They’ve even started with the Satinalia decorations!”

“The what?” Dis mouthed to Oghren, who looked as befuddled as she felt. She noticed that there were odd things strung up on the fences along the road -- paper lanterns not yet lit, boughs of thick dark green plants, bunches of red and white berries and gold ribbons tied to posts here and there. Some kind of ritual, perhaps? It didn’t look exactly magical, though.

“And what is Satinalia?” asked Morrigan from behind them. Dis considered. Not magical, then. If Morrigan didn’t know either, perhaps it was something to do with the Chantry.

Sten turned to Shale. “I am also not aware of the meaning of this word.”

“As if I would know half the things the fleshy little ones speak of,” scoffed Shale.

“Their chatter is largely forgettable. I recommend paying it little mind,” said Sten.

Leliana, bringing up the rear with Dhargus and Zevran, let out a soft gasp. “You mean that you do not know the stories of Satinalia? In Orlais, it is a time of beautiful celebration and reflection, a time to spend with friend and family alike.” The mabari woofed, a mournful dirge of a bark.

“Perhaps that is how they celebrate in Orlais, but ah, the revelry of Antiva City,” mused Zevran. “Do you know that in Antiva, men and women flood the streets completely in the nude? The debauchery is truly something to behold! And behold one does. There is great merriment and joy in that week. Of course, there is also much shame and atonement in the week following! It is a glorious time of the year.”

“So the tales of Antivan celebrations are true,” said Wynne, arching an eyebrow slyly. “I’ve always wondered.”

“Was there any doubt, my dear enchanter?”

“Is somebody going to explain what Satinalia actually is ?” asked Dis, neatly sidestepping a large mud puddle that Ogren tramped through obliviously, nearly splattering Morrigan.

While avoiding Oghren’s mud splatters, Dis still managed to catch sight of the decorations extending to the houses on either side of the path. Red candles on tin plates clustered on their small doorsteps, and boughs of evergreen hung over their front doors.

“It’s a festival!” said Alistair. “To mark the start of winter. Winter’s such a dreary affair that you’ve got to have something to brighten it up a bit, haven’t you? Hence the candles and the decorations. There’s gifts and feasting too. Last year with the Wardens we gave each other games and books and all sorts of things to keep from being too bored when there aren’t any Darkspawn around. Of course, this year we haven’t got that problem….”

“There is quite a bit more to the tradition than simple gift-giving and celebrating the start of winter,” said Wynne. “The religious significance has roots in ancient Tevinter.”

“That is true, but the meaning has changed with time. The celebration of Satinalia goes back hundreds of years. The story is quite a fascinating one, I know many ballads that I can sing for you if you like --”

“Red, if you’re singing, and I’m listening, we need ale,” said Oghren.

Shale groaned. “If that is where it and its companions are heading, I will await outside. I have noticed humans get disturbingly upset when a golem smashes through the front door. Ugh, they can be so shrill! I do not understand how something so small can make such noise.”

“Your understanding of the human condition is touching, my friend,” said Wynne. Shale let out a gravelly chortle.

“Going to have to agree with Oghren here. The inn sounds good,” said Dis, who was shivering by this point in the chill air. “For not having snow on the ground, it’s cold as a Paragon’s balls in here.”

“Cold?” questioned Zevran. “What a peculiar expression. In the usual way of things, they should be quite warm.”

“It’s a figure of speech, Zevran. Anyway, the only Paragons I’ve ever seen before Branka were made of stone, so….”

“Ah! Of course!”

***

Three ales, six hundred years of history, four ballads, and half a game-and-veg pie later, Dis thought she had Satinalia down pretty well. She hefted herself off her chair and made her way to the innkeeper’s bar, pouch of coppers in hand. She took a few long looks at the decorations lining the area, nodding to herself.

She returned feeling inordinately pleased, and laid down her new treasures on the long table before her companions. “Take your pick,” she declared.

“You persuaded the innkeeper to sell you his decorations?” mused Wynne.

“Yep!”

“How lovely!” said Leliana. “You must be feeling very festive.” She reached out and took a circlet of soft green-needled twigs, resting it atop her red hair.

“I fail to see the point of such trinkets, but your enthusiasm is almost… charming,” said Morrigan cautiously, reaching out and pinning a sprig of shiny holly to her feathered sleeve. “I suppose it is harmless enough.”

Sten coolly regarded a pair of leaf-shaped cookies wrapped in waxcloth, sneaking them to his side of the table when he thought no one was looking. Wynne took a necklace of red berries strung together, Zevran a brushy green circlet like Leliana’s, and Alistair a sprig of evergreen. He struggled with a moment getting its pin into the thick leather of his tabard.

“Let me,” Dis said from her seat beside him, and Alistair handed her the pin. She carefully poked the needle through the leather, leaning her hands against his chest. Which felt remarkably solid. Her hands lingered on his chest for a moment longer than perhaps they needed.

Was that pink in his cheeks? She pulled away from him, clearing her throat, and focused on the objects in front of her. She grabbed a tin crown painted gold. There were a few patches the paint hadn’t fully covered, but it still looked shiny and bright.

“So is this for the town fool?” Dis asked. “Isn’t that part of it, Leliana?”

“Yes,” said Leliana. “Traditionally each village nominates the town fool to rule for a day. It is a very silly custom of the celebration, but one of its most beloved.”

“Who wants to be the fool?” asked Dis.

“Alistair may not want to be, but one cannot deny he is the natural choice,” said Morrigan with a small, satisfied smile.

“Oh, very nice,” said Alistair, pretending to be miffed. “I’d say you ought to play the fool, but a crown would look rubbish on such a mean-spirited person, anyway.”

“You all would make adequate fools,” offered Sten helpfully, swallowing a bite of cookie and ignoring his ale.

“Fool, eh?” said Oghren, cocking his head to one side. “So you want me to wear what now?”

“Why, we have a volunteer!” said Wynne, raising her mug to him.

“Let us all hope he does not celebrate in the Antivan fashion,” murmured Zevran. “Though the sight would make rather a good tale one day, would it not?”

Oghren ignored the elf. The dwarf grabbed for the crown, jammed it firmly on his head, and leapt up onto his chair. Even standing, he was only a little taller than the seated Sten and Alistair. He slammed a boot onto the table’s surface and grabbed his hips, sticking out his elbows and puffing his chest in a dashing pose.

“As king, I decree we order another round and plant our asses here for the night. Who else is sick and tired of sleeping in the mud in a nug-blasted tent? And on Satinalia of all days!” he roared.

A hearty Hear hear, o King! filled the air, and the innkeeper bustled over, red in the face.

“Would you get off my table already?” he snapped.

“Ahhh, hold onto your pants,” said Oghren, hopping back down. He could be surprisingly spry at times, a fact he proved with an only slightly wobbly twirl. “Another round then. To Satinalia!”

“To Satinalia!”

The innkeeper sighed. “Another round it is, but you lot do realize Satinalia’s not for another week, don’t you?”

“To Satinalia!”

The innkeeper shook his head and groaned, clearly wondering what he had done to deserve his fate. Dis watched him go with a grin, finishing off the rest of her ale and grabbing a twist of white berries and shiny green leaves to fasten to a strap of her armor.

“Mistletoe, isn’t it?” Alistair murmured, gazing at her. Was he blushing again? Maybe it was the ale.

“What sort of plant is it? Do you eat it?” Dis asked, stretching her neck down to sniff at the berries. Disappointingly, they had no particular odor, unlike the pleasant evergreen crowns and pins.

“Maker, no, you don’t eat it! It’s poisonous,” said Alistair in a hurry. “But it’s romantic in nature. Supposed to be an invitation for ah, ah, a kiss.” Even the tips of his ears were scarlet. Ale didn’t do that.

“Oh!” said Dis, fighting a swooping sensation in her stomach. “Well, perhaps I chose wisely,” she said before she could stop herself.

“Oh!” echoed Alistair, suddenly shoving his face back into his mug and refusing to look at her. “It looks very nice on you.” A funny thing for him to say, given that he was staring at the table as hard as he could. His ears were flaming.

“Gotta go!” Dis blurted. “Need to tend to -- uh -- the dog!” She got to her feet and dashed out of the inn, circling around to the back where Shale stood, Dhargus lolling at the golem’s feet.

She certainly hadn’t expected that turn of events.

She shivered in the chilly night air, heart racing. What in stone was going on? It wasn’t like Alistair wasn’t attractive, but this… giddiness, this nervousness, she felt was entirely unlike her. Why didn’t she just tell him she wanted a roll in the dust and then move on, like she’d always done?

Maybe this means more than that. The thought came unbidden, but it felt heavy: it felt right. She blew on her hands, trying to warm them, and let the thought linger.

“Has it tired of its squishy games?” Shale asked, watching the starry skies. “Come out to keep the poor golem company?”

“It was just getting rowdy in there,” Dis explained, relieved that Shale at least would no sooner pick up on her stammering and her flushed cheeks than hug a pigeon. “Satinalia’s something else, I guess.”

“Of course. I knew it could not be coming to visit me. Ah. Here comes another of its companions now.”

Alistair edged around the corner of the building, waving at her. It was a little ridiculous, and at the same time intensely endearing. “Are you all right?”

Dis bent down so that she wasn’t looking directly at Alistair, and petted Dhargus. The dog promptly rolled into a mud puddle, his tongue hanging out the side of his gleefully open mouth. “I just came out to check on him. Thought he might be lonely. Knew that Shale wouldn’t be,” she said, chuckling.

“It knows me so well,” said Shale fondly.

“Riiiight,” said Alistair, drawing closer. He bent down as well to pet the dog, and she was acutely aware of the heat of him. “Well, if you’re all right --” He hesitated, shoving his hands under his arms to warm them. “It has gotten rather cold, hasn’t it?”

“I still don’t understand your weather. What’s the point? Why does it get so cold? Who thought rain was a good idea?” Dis rambled.

“It’s got its uses. Growing all the plants and food of the world, for one. Tends to be a bit helpful for that.”

“I agree with the small one. I despise the rain. I have been used as a shelter for shivering, sodden humans more than once,” said Shale in disdain.

Dis fell quiet for a moment, imaging herself and Alistair hiding from a storm. Perhaps in a secluded cave somewhere without the others… perhaps there would be a need to remove one’s damp clothes to dry them before the fire… and perhaps there would be --

“That mistletoe does look lovely on you,” he whispered. “It catches the moonlight.”

“I like your evergreen. It smelled so fresh. Nothing in Orzammar has ever thought of smelling like that.”

“I’m glad you think I smell nice.”

“You should be.”

They were close, now, far too close, both still crouching over the dog, their faces nearly at the same height for once. She could see all the freckles dotting his nose and cheeks, the clarity of his hazel eyes, a small scar near his forehead she’d never noticed before. She could reach out and close the distance between them, could finish this foolishness decisively with a kiss. She began to close her eyes --

THWAP!

“Oh ho!” cried Shale in delight. “I’ve smashed the dreadful thing most thoroughly!”

Alistair startled, falling over on his side with his hand in the mud puddle. Dhargus barked and rolled out of the way. “What the -- hang on, then, there aren’t any pigeons at night. You smashed an owl!”

Shale looked down at the white feathers littering the ground, then shrugged. “Do owls defecate on unsuspecting golems as they fly?”

“I suppose they could…”

“Well, so it understands.”

Dis sat there on her heels, fighting back laughter that threatened to burst out of her in gales. She stood back up to her full height, then held out a calloused hand. “Come on then, Alistair. Let’s leave Shale to it, and get you cleaned up.”

Alistair shook his head, wearing a rueful expression as she helped him clamber up. Once up, he towered over her as usual, wiping off the mud that had splattered all over him. “Perhaps Morrigan was right after all. Do you think Oghren would relinquish his crown?”

“Not without bloodshed,” Dis said with certainty. “But it could be pretty funny watching you two fight for it.”

“Fighting on Satinalia? Or, well, the week before Satinalia? Whatever would they say?”

“I dunno. Sounds like a pretty good way to spend the holiday to me.”

“You’ve a strange idea of decorum, you realize.”

“Ahh, you like that about me.”

They came back to the door of the inn, which was festooned in garlands of evergreen and mistletoe. Alistair reached over her to open the door, then paused for a moment, biting his lip as his hand rested against the door. He looked down at her, smiling, the look in his eyes soft. “Yes, I do.”

Oh, sod it all. She reached up, grabbed the edge of his collar, pulled him down to her height, and she kissed him.

It was clumsy, fleeting, warm, sweet, eager. It was perfect. It was over too soon.

Alistair straightened back up slowly, his normally olive face ruddy as anything. He opened his mouth. Tried to speak. Couldn’t come up with anything. Closed his mouth again.

“I like you too, if you’re wondering,” said Dis, trying not to giggle. Dusters didn’t giggle. Dusters didn’t kiss humans and wear mistletoe and smell evergreens beneath the stars. But she did. And she thought it suited her. “Come on then. Back to the party?”

“I -- uh, right,” said Alistair. “Yes. Very good. I -- you said you liked me?”

“Maybe Oghren does need to step down from the throne.”

“No, no, that won’t be necessary,” Alistair said. “I’m not really this, what’s the word, inarticulate. Just consider this me finding my bearings after a very pleasant surprise.”

“I can do that.”

He pushed open the door, and golden light and loud chatter spilled outward from the common room, filling the night air. He grinned down at her.

“Happy Satinalia, Dis.”

“A happy Satinalia to you too, Alistair.”

And they went back inside to the court of their king, the secret of the kiss burning between them, brighter than any candle.

#brosca x alistair #alistair x brosca #dragon age: origins #dragon age #da:o #satinalia #dis brosca

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possibilistfanfiction · 6 years

Text

put down your sword & crown (come lay with me on the ground)

[this is rly late for clexa week but whatever it’s here (day 7 bc this is like future canon world but like nothing happened past 304) - clarke rly wants lexa to rETIRE partially bc her wife is hurt & stubborn abt it. also they have a baby. its soft & theres not a lot of plot. ao3.]

put down your sword & crown (come lay with me on the ground)

achingly beautiful how the sky/ looked as i stood after they left. nicer somehow/ in the middle. all the trees tucking blackbirds/ into their darkness. it really did take this long.

—gabrielle calvoccoressi, rocket fantastic (poems)

she has a limp. it’s more pronounced during storms, especially in the winter, and sometimes you think your wife is far too young to have a limp. other times you think it’s amazing she’s made it this far, alive and mostly in one piece.

you’ve been together for fourteen years, been married for ten of them. lexa is kind, attentive, and very funny—sides of her most people don’t get to see, but ones that you know almost better than any of your own moods. hers come with some warning: a tick in her jaw, solemn, sad nods, hours of swordsmanship when she’s upset. you think she’s more beautiful now than ever, a few laugh lines around the corners of her eyes; she takes you to the ocean whenever she can, and you think her eyes are the sort of jade—clear and depthless—as seaglass, as lightning left here for you to see.

she’s the most incredible, tender, intelligent person you have ever met, and she has a limp, shuffling in from training, again—and you. are. furious.

hale is babbling away in the corner, playing with some toys your mother had brought during her last visit. you watch her carefully because she’s walking now, and sometimes she looks at you before she darts off across the room with an expression that reminds you so much of your wife that you have a hard time believing that lexa didn’t bear this child herself.

but today, soothed by the rain or the smell of bread you’re baking, she seems content with the small stuffed dog in her tiny hands. she looks up when lexa barges into the house, soaking wet and grimacing, but then goes back to her little game.

you open your mouth to say something, to snap at your wife, but she only holds up her hand exhaustedly before limping past you toward your bedroom quarters. you hear a stone sink into the bath you had started to draw, and then her first boot hit the ground. you wait for a moment, think about the old saying—wait for the other shoe to drop—and then, unsurprisingly, your wife’s does, softly and finally onto the worn hardwood of your bathroom.

you put hale in her little playpen—she doesn’t protest, just clings to her stuffed toys, and you brush back the mess of dark curls on her head and kiss her forehead when she smiles up at you—and then sigh. she’s the brightest, most special thing in the world and it had been lexa, surprisingly, who had advocated so passionately to adopt this tiny baby, abandoned in the woods near her home village. you had been hesitant: the ground is still not a gentle place, and it is not easy to love the most powerful person in the world. it is not easy, not really, for you to be mothers.

but she smiles, little dimples and all, and you hold her cheek for a moment before turning to go tend to your wife.

when you walk into your bathroom, lexa is naked, sort of staring at the tub. she’s put oils in it, and a few dried flowers; the room smells like lavender, like milk and honey, and if you weren’t already so mad you would be struck by it all, how beautiful and long and toned your wife is, wiry muscles and gentle curves, the steam causing her sun-kissed skin to flush gold. but lexa is crying, heaves a sigh, and then looks at you sadly, and some of your anger melts away.

‘i can’t get in,’ she says, quietly, and you’re surprised she’s speaking in english. perhaps it’s to feel further away from the words. she does this sometimes, when things are especially difficult for her to admit.

you don’t say anything, just take your shirt off and lay it on the chair. you slip out of the loose pants you have on, then your underwear, lexa watching you with an unreadable expression, one full of apology and relief.

‘hale?’

‘she’s in the playpen. she likes the toys my mother brought.’

lexa nods once, and then you step into the tub, and hold out your hands.

she takes them, is graceful with one leg when she steps into the relief of the warm water, but then it is slow going for a few moments, and her hands grip yours tightly, almost frantically, while she gets her other leg over the edge of the tub, her hip not bending like it should.

you stay quiet when you settle in, and she leans back and closes her eyes. her hand massages the muscle above the sore, stiff joint, and you know you need to wait, no matter how much you want to berate her, or argue, or yell.

‘you’re angry with me,’ she says, after a while, sitting up and looking at you. she does so with tenderness and no trace of anger herself.

‘yeah.’

‘we’ve been fighting for a while, now,’ she states, no question, and reaches for your hand.

‘we have been,’ you agree.

you take her hand, her gentle, calloused fingers, turn it upside down and trace the scar on her palm from so many years ago.

‘i do not know how to stop,’ she says, shakily, after moments of quiet.

‘you don’t have to stop being a leader, lexa,’ you say. ‘i’ve never wanted that for you.’

‘how can i be commander, though, if i do not fight with my people?’

a rush of frustration wells up in your chest, but her eyes are wide, and she looks young and lost and scared. and you are her wife.

‘we are at peace.’

she stares down at the water, swallows. ‘the other clans cannot revolt, if i were to relinquish power in any way.’

‘you are a brilliant leader,’ you say, and reach toward her to raise her chin. you nod when she meets your eyes. ‘you brought them together when you were 16. you overcame a shit show when we fell to the ground, and the mountain, and the ice nation.’

she sighs, nods minutely.

‘things will not fall apart of you give some power to aden. if you usher in someone capable and guided by your own hand.’ you squeeze her hand. ‘you are a brilliant leader, my love.’

‘he is quite capable.’

‘you’ve trained him since he was a boy.’ you smile, because you very much do like aden, and he’s grown into a fine warrior and strategist, perfectly adept and passionate and willing. ‘he will be good for polis, good for your people.’

‘i still want to lead,’ she says, looks at your seriously, tilts her head in a challenge.

‘you will,’ you say. ‘just with a little more help.’

you give her the few minutes she needs; you stay quiet and wash her hair gently, massage her hip.

‘okay,’ she says, finally, resolved and upset and relieved.

you kiss her—tender and kind, rough, a mess of a kiss, the first of a certain kind—and she kisses you back.

when you back up, your foreheads pressed together as you both breathe, she says, ‘i do not trust your machines, and i only vaguely trust your mother’—you laugh, nod—‘but i think i may want to learn more about the procedure.’

you want to sing, or shout or dance or something, because your mother has offered surgery to fix lexa’s hip for months, since you forced lexa to go to arkadia for x-rays and a consult.

‘we can do that,’ you say. ‘i’ll radio her.’

lexa shakes her head, kisses you again. ‘tomorrow,’ she says, and when you lift a brow, she sighs. ‘i give you my word, clarke.’

‘alright.’

‘just,’ she sighs, stands slowly, less stiff than before because of the warm water, ‘i need a day. i want a day with you, and with hale. to—to, i think, know what i can have.’

‘we do want you around, you know.’

lexa smiles, and, almost as if on cue, hale starts wailing for both of you, her little voice full of over-dramatic sobs. if you had to bet, it’s because she tossed her toy over the side of her playpen.

‘your daughter, undoubtedly,’ she says, as you help her out, and you flick water on her with a laugh before you follow.

she wraps her hair up in a towel and puts on a robe before walking out and collecting your mess of a child, her eyes brimming red. hale sniffles in lexa’s arms and you bend down and then hand her the little dog, wipe her tears before she hugs it tightly against lexa’s shoulder.

‘come on, strikon,’ lexa says softly. ‘mama made us breakfast.’

she situates hale at the table in her little chair, and you bring the fresh bread and cheese over with some fresh berries you’d had to trade a significant amount of venison for, but you are the commander’s wife, after all.

and you have breakfast with your family, lexa breaking the bread into pieces small enough for hale, and trying to get her to speak in complete sentences, and making both of you laugh. lexa looks at you after one particularly stupid joke that had pulled a snort out of you, and she says, ‘i am glad to no longer argue, niron.’

‘you’re an exhausting person to love,’ you say, but you’re smiling and she kisses your hand.

you clean up together, in rhythm and quietly, and hale starts to nod off in her chair, so you take her and put her between you in bed, watch her little chest rise and fall before you look at your wife.

‘she will need braids soon,’ she says, sifting her fingers through hale’s soft hair.

‘that’s all on you.’

lexa laughs softly. a weight has been lifted from her, you know, years and years of pain and being in a lifetime of forced debt to her people. she has fought for peace, and been willing to die for peace, and all you want—all you want for her, for your love, more than anything—is the same grace she has given to everyone around her.

you brush a strand of hair behind her ear, trace down her jaw. ‘you can rest,’ you tell her, and she closes her eyes like it’s some kind of holy benediction. a few tears leak down her cheeks but you let them, and then she dries her eyes and nods and props herself up so she can reach over hale to kiss you.

‘ai hod yu in,’ you say, quietly, and she smiles softly, tiredly.

‘i love you too.’

you put your hand on her hip, rub gentle circles below the waistband of her loose pants, her skin smooth and soft. your mother will cut it open, fix her bones and her nerves, and after that you will trace healing into her scar.

but for now you are all whole, and the rain has turned to heavy snow outside the windows. the fire is full and burns away; hale sighs and lexa’s breathing evens out. you watch them, and the wind howls outside, but you are warm.

#possibilist #possibilistfanfiction #clexa week 2018 #clexa fanfiction #clexa fic #BABIES #they r a lil old!!!!!!!! i love them so much

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snowbellewells · 6 years

Text

“Got My Angel Now”

So, I started writing this after 5x03 (“Siege Perilous”), and though I know that there are elements of it which were disproved or went another way in canon, I still don’t think it is so far off as to be unenjoyable, and I’m pretty fond of it. I’d love to hear what you think once you’ve read. The title comes from a line in “Halo” by Beyonce, and the lyrics within are from Christina Perri’s “I Believe”. I don’t own either of those wonderful songs, nor either member of our lovely Pirate and Princess duo. I only want to see them live happily ever after… (and in a way we did!! ;)

I’m still tagging this for the #Ouat Fandom Crescendo for one more week. I had a couple more I wanted to re-post!

“Got My Angel Now”

By: @snowbellewells (TutorGirlml on ff.net)

They should never have trusted Arthur so blindly. Have they learned nothing yet after meeting so many heroes and monsters of myth and legend and discovering so many to be the opposite of how they are painted in the tales of old? Oh, aye, the royal had been stealthy – welcoming them to Camelot, throwing a grand ball in their honor, knighting David as a brother-in-arms and seating him in the very Siege Perilous once held by Lancelot himself – but it had made them let down their guards…and now Emma was paying for it.

Standing surrounded in the tower room Regina and Belle use as they research and experiment trying to find a way to communicate with and free Merlin, Arthur’s treachery suddenly comes into sharp focus for all of them. An entire phalanx of Camelot knights – Dave’s supposed comrades – surround Killian, Henry, David, Robin, and Belle (unfortunately Regina is not present to wipe them all out with a wrathful fireball) with swords at their chests or throats, circled closely enough that breaking free or moving to help the last member of their party is impossible.

Arthur himself stands facing Emma, his blade drawn and pointed just above her heart, poised to pierce her chest and make that precious, priceless organ spill its lifeblood and go still. Killian feels himself practically vibrating with rage at the betrayal and fear for her, not to mention the bitter anger he can feel radiating off of the prince beside him, and he reaches out a hand to clutch Henry’s forearm, feeling the boy nearly jerk forward to his mother. He doesn’t think these men would hurt one so young, but he is no longer certain.

“Now Dark One,” Arthur spits, his voice harsh with controlled venom, “you and I are going to the tree. Your magic and the mushroom your noble father so kindly procured for me,” here he slants a gaze at Charming, “will show me what to do to free Merlin and to trap you instead where you rightly belong.”

Killian knows Emma now possesses enough magic in her little finger alone to blow all these men away, but she holds back, as afraid as any of them that magic use will only continue to give the darkness more footholds in her psyche. She slants her eyes from boldly staring Arthur down to seek his. He wants to tell her to fight, to disappear, escape, and he wishes to know what he can do to comfort her, but the words and the knowledge both escape him. Instead, his only ease is found in knowing that Emma’s dagger is nowhere here – not where Arthur can lay his hands on it and control his love. Though he does not know where Snow and Lancelot have taken it for safekeeping, it is at least beyond this broken monarch’s reach.

There is nothing to do but watch as Arthur has two more knights bind Emma’s hands and force her none-too-gently from the room behind him, the rest of the guard linger menacingly, to be sure none of them can follow or try to help her until they are well away.

It matters not; he will catch up, no matter where they take her. Emma must only hold on, keep her faith…

“I believe in the lost possibilities you can’t see and I believe that the darkness reminds us where light can be;

I know that your heart is still beating, beating, Darling,

I believe that you fell just so you could land next to me,

So hold on, hold on…

Though naught but a quarter of an hour passes before the rest of Arthur’s men withdraw from them, it is well into the evening before Killian finds Emma in a moonlit clearing of the dense forest which encircles the kingdom. Their group had split up in the hopes of someone reaching Swan that much faster, once word spread of Arthur’s failing to trap the Dark One and how she had used her powers to vanish from his grasp in the courtyard. Killian still does not know what had been done to her before that, but he can only be glad she has outsmarted their treacherous adversary and saved herself. He practically deflates with relief at the sight of her before him, appearing hale and in one piece. He cannot be anything but glad that it is he who will have a moment to himself with his love. It does not matter that it has not even been a whole day, his relief upon seeing Emma again is almost too great to bear. The vision of her before him across the clearing is like the first breath of fresh spring air to his weary soul after too long locked away in suffocating winter. The last few hours he has felt as if he is struggling for breath, consciously forcing his heart not to skip beats in agony and worry for her and what she might be suffering. His joy is great enough to override caution, and he doesn’t take in the raw, unhinged look in her wild eyes, nor the way she fairly vibrates with some unknown strain or injury.

The air around Emma pulses with electric energy, and she throws up a hand to ward him off – pulling Killian up short when he feels the force pressing him back. Drawing in a steadying breath and hesitating to truly study her expression of confusion and anxiety, he realizes with a sharp pang in his chest that he is not sure whether she is merely trying to protect him while out of control or if she truly doesn’t know him in this moment.

Those lovely, mesmerizing green eyes which never fail to capture him in their depths, flit nervously from his face, to his hand and hook, to her own trembling fingers outstretched between them, to the trees that surround them, and back again nervously – clearly unsettled and pained. Their emerald depths have never appeared so dark before, as if the forces fighting within to color her very mind and spirit are attempting to spread into even the smallest details of her being. His Swan literally shakes even as she attempts to hold herself steady, staring at him over the ground between them. “What are you doing here?!?” she demands, looking shaken and angry, but at the same time as if she wants nothing more than to close the space between them, fall into his supporting arms, and hold on for dear life. “I brought myself here for a reason, Killian! I barely got away from them, and I had to use my powers to do it. I can’t risk something like that happening again. I’m too dangerous to be near anyone until I find Merlin – and not when Arthur is waiting. Not until I get rid of this, this…thing inside me. I feel it swirling and clawing… even when it isn’t speaking to me in Rumplestiltskin’s voice, it’s trying to break free. So…y-you can’t be here! I w-won’t hurt you…” Her lower lip trembles, but she looks so firm in her decision and determined to suffer alone in her misery that his heart constricts in pain for her, breaking a bit more at the sight of her anguish.

He cannot bear to see her suffering, to hear the agony in her voice; the yearning loneliness made plain beneath her warning to him makes him continue to inch closer to her, regardless of the threat Emma thinks she poses. He had known the wretched feeling of hopeless despair she is feeling all too well himself – for years – until she came along and brought more to his life than revenge, brought back the man of honor he once was. He takes another hesitant step forward, cautiously reaching out for her with a gentle hand and equally coaxing voice. “Easy now, Love,” he practically croons. “We can be careful…but you should not – and will not – have to do this alone.”

“Please stop!” she cries out, shooting another regretful look of longing at him.

Killian shakes his head, unwilling to let her go on this way, sure that he can help her, soothe her, and ease her pain if he can only reach her. He watches as Emma continues to tremble and shake, but she remains still, allowing him to approach, even if she does so fearfully. Finally, the very tips of his fingers graze her cloak, then his whole hand rests on her upper arms, gripping gently as if unsure that she won’t still flee from him.

Just as she did in that circle of stones when their whole party first arrived in Camelot, Emma expels a terribly ragged breath and deflates, falling into his arms and clutching his shoulders as desperately as he clings to her. Killian breathes again, having barely realized he was holding it, and smooths a hand through her hair. He is not at all deterred by Emma’s moment of weakness, her nearly unhinged power, nor her fear. He is only glad she has finally reached for him in time of need. He will not give her up; he will find a way to help her, show her he will never fear her – whatever betide – and he will not fail to fight for her against any threat or foe. Watching her battle the Darkness within allows him to see, not her faltering, but even more of her strength. His admiration for her has only grown. No one else could understand the allure of the dark and the valor needed to claw away from it as he can.

‘Cause I have been where you are before and I have felt the pain of losing who you are,

I have died so many times, but I am still alive

So hold on, hold on….

Tenderly, reverently, Killian’s hand travels on – down from the silken waves of her golden hair to trace Emma’s shoulders, then her back, pressing just enough to draw her closer, only to release her quickly when she cries out in pain at even the slight weight of his hands on her back. She tries to swallow her reaction in the next instant – hide it away – but she cannot conceal the wince that escapes as she curls in on herself protectively, nor can he fail to see the stiff way she holds her shoulders now that he is looking for it.

His calloused fingers come to cup her strong chin, tilting Emma’s face up to meet his gaze, so she cannot avoid his eyes. “Where are you hurt, Swan?” he murmurs lowly, voice rough with concern and desire to help. His words might be soft, but they are taut with worry and anger that these brigands would dare to lay a rough hand on his princess. “What did they do to you?”

Emma shakes her head, pulling away from his cautious grip and biting down on her lower lip in that way she has when trying to avoid baring herself to him, especially if the knowledge he seeks might be painful. “It’s nothing, Killian. Don’t worry over it. I…I could have healed it already…if I weren’t worried about using my magic more than I have already.”

Impatiently, he shakes his own head once, frustrated at her stubbornness and unconcern for her own well-being. “It is not nothing, Emma. Of that I am quite sure.” His words are clipped with the force of his emotion, accent more pronounced, and Emma feels a shiver skitter down her spine that is as much from attraction as foreboding over what he will do when he sees her injuries. Carefully, but firmly, Killian places both hand and hook on her shoulders and turns her around to face away from him.

For a moment, Emma clutches her cloak about her, trying to keep this revelation from his eyes in one last desperate effort, but when pain lances through her shoulders and she cannot bite back the whimper that escapes her, she knows it is a losing battle. Slumping forward, she releases a sigh and ceases to fight against his gentle determination.

“There now, Lass,” her pirate coaxes in that warm burr of his. His hand and hook barely skim over her form as he unclasps and pulls the cloak away. “Let us see, hmm? Everything will be…” However, his voice chokes and trails off before he can finish his gentle reassurance. A strangled noise in his throat and the sudden heavy tension in the air around them tells her without doubt that once the cloak was off her shoulders the wide neckline and low back of her dress leave the stinging marks on her flesh exposed plainly to his eyes.

Neither of them move for several long, silent moments, and Emma presses her trembling lips together tightly, trying desperately not to let the tears that are welling in her eyes fall. She hisses when the cool metal of his hook gingerly traces the brand burned into her right shoulder, serving to mark her as a witch, and the scattered whip weals she bore rather than admit anything about where her dagger was hidden and endanger Merlin and all of them. The lash marks pulse hotly along with the beat of her heart and the blood rushing through her veins. Somehow, though, the tender care in his touch soothes her a bit, and she relaxes, almost sinking to her knees in relief and exhaustion as he continues. Her eyes slip closed, and she nearly feels safe again until he whispers in a broken voice. “Oh, Love, how could they do this to you? …I am so very sorry, Emma.”

Her tears do fall silently then, and she turns back to him, wordlessly trailing her fingers across his face, up over his cheekbones, wiping his matching tears away. Shushing Killian even as his shoulders shake with silent emotion, Emma leans against his chest and tries for the first time in what feels like ages to let down her guard and catch her breath at the safety she finds in his arms.

Eventually, Killian pulls back slightly, brushing a loose tendril of her mussed hair off her forehead and resting his hand along the side of her face softly. He shifts to take her hand in his and then leads her to the banks of the small river running placidly behind them. Urging Emma wordlessly to sit on a large rock at the water’s edge, he pulls a clean black scarf from inside his long coat, bends to wet it in the cool water, then comes back to crouch behind her. Clearing his throat in a nervous way that warms her heart, Killian asks gently. “Not to be indelicate, Swan, but can you shrug out of your frock for a moment? Hold it up in the front if you wish, but I need to see your whole back if I am to clean your wounds properly.”

Emma dips her head, blushing fiercely, and does as he asks, sucking in a sharp, pained breath once more as she eases the material from her shoulders and the movement stretches the torn skin of her back. Finally, she wraps her arms tightly around her torso, holding the front of the dress up and bracing herself. Hissing as the damp cloth first makes contact with the bloody stripes sliced into her pale hide, she tries not to flinch or wince and make Killian’s task more difficult; however, she can feel Killian’s hesitance and guilt at hurting her more, even in order to help, regardless of how she tries to hold her reactions in.

Slowly, the water begins to cool the enflamed agony and she eases a fraction, feeling a bit like his ministrations are healing her as well as any magic could. The feel of his fingers ghosting over her back and down her arm as he finishes and tells her she can pull her gown back into place remind her vividly of another time so long ago, when he used another of his scarves to bind a wound to her hand, seemingly reading her mind as he did so and seeing the attraction she had felt for him even then simmering under her skin. His care that day atop the beanstalk had made her ache to trust him so desperately, and looking back now, it nearly floors her to realize just how completely she does trust him now – so much so that she would place her very life in his hands without question.

Emma feels the warm exhalation of her pirate’s breath on her neck mere seconds before he lightly rests his forehead there, seemingly needing merely to hold her as he draws in a shaky breath. They are silent for some time; the running water, bird calls, and scuffling of wild creatures in the brush are the only sounds around them. Finally, he eases away and speaks once more, circling to face her as he does so. “Emma, I know you do not want to put yourself at more risk – nor do you want to be forced to use your magic again to defend yourself, or any of us – but you must return with me. We can find some place for you to stay where Arthur and his sorry excuses for gallant knights will never know of your return. You must have some salve or medicine and better treatment than I can offer for those cuts, and especially the burn. I fear it could become infected. Regina will be near enough to guard you with her magic this time, and we will not be taken unawares again. I certainly will not be making the mistake of trusting anyone else in Camelot again.”

She wants to argue with him, to be strong enough to stay out here alone and in hiding, but she cannot make herself form the words. In fact, she knows with painful certainty that she cannot bear to have Killian out of her sight right now. Weakened and vulnerable, she needed his comfort and his strength, needs someone with some faith and hope that all which has gone wrong can still work out. Not only will she worry for his safety and the rash action he might take to right the vicious wrongs done to her, but she yearns for his care just now, his steadfast love the strongest thing keeping the darkness at bay, even as her situation grows more dire.

I believe that tomorrow is stronger than yesterday, and I believe that your head is the only thing in your way.

I wish that you could see your scars turn into beauty.

I believe that today it’s okay to be not okay…

Hold on, hold on…

This is not the end of me, this is the beginning

Hold on…

Later that night, as moonlight filters into the isolated old hunting lodge that Killian and Henry have somehow located in a far-flung corner of the castle’s grounds, deserted and dusty from long disuse, Emma wakes from a light doze, still uneasy enough not to sleep deeply, despite her wear and strain. Sitting up stiffly, her eyes search the room, seeking her guardian knight, even as his name escapes her lips worriedly. “Killian?” she asks, a soft, plaintive note in the single whispered word.

He stands quickly from where his lithe form had been curled up on a settee near the window keeping watch, himself bathed in dark shadows and moon glow as he steals across the room to sit on the edge of the bed at her side. “I’m here, Love. Are you in pain? Regina is just outside, I can summon her…”

Emma merely shakes her head, reaching her hand out from under the layers of warm blankets she remembers him tucking around her a couple hours before. Looking up into his fathomless blue, blue eyes, she closes her fingers around his hook, hanging on for dear life. “No, it’s not that,” she assures him, gazing up into his face, drinking in every perfect, adoring feature as he stares back at her. “I just wanted to make sure that you didn’t disappear, that you were still with me…” She trails off, looking sheepish but also honest. They might be more than she would usually say, but she cannot make herself take the words back.

He traces his hand across her forehead soothingly, then lets his fingers tangle gently in her hair, pulling her up to press the softest of kisses to her lips. “Don’t worry, Darling,” he murmurs, his caress easing her pounding heart. “It took me centuries to find you. I won’t be letting go of my saving grace now. We will put an end to this darkness and treachery. Our love story is only beginning.”

And with those words Emma is able to fall back into a healing, dreamless sleep.

Tagging a few who may like this: @whimsicallyenchantedrose @kmomof4 @hollyethecurious @artistic-writer @ilovemesomekillianjones @branlovesouat @searchingwardrobes @laschatzi @drowned-dreamer @jennjenn615 @bmbbcs4evr @gingerchangeling @blackwidownat2814 @spartanguard @midnightswans @jackieorioncat @duathadun @galadriel26 @revanmeetra87 @winterbaby89 @capswantrue @celestial-fire-writer @kiwistreetswan @psymplemind @ohmakemeahercules

#ouat fandom crescendo #cs oneshot fic #ouat 5x03 canon divergent ff #captain swan hurt comfort

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aliaisonfanfiction · 6 years

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Chapter 65

“The winters grow ever colder…” Legolas began as he stared out of one of the windows of his father’s reception rooms.

Thranduil’s eyes trailed to where his son’s gazed. “They do…” He agreed, silently.

“Perhaps due to the darkness that creeps back into this world.” The prince continued. “The same darkness that has perhaps already taken you into its clutches, causing you to taint my wife with its poison.”

“Do you believe that to be the truth?” Thranduil looked back to his son. Legolas’ eyes were sunken and had lost their usual vibrancy. His skin too was now sallowed for he had not eaten in many days.

“It is the only explanation I can conceive as to how you, my own father, could have done this to me,” Legolas replied bitterly. “Do you wish to tell me otherwise?”

Thranduil’s eyes stung painfully as he looked away once more in shame. “It was by my own doing Legolas, nothing more.”

Though Legolas knew that to be the truth, the words wounded no less. “Through your own lust and greed.” He reiterated hotly.

“Yes…”

“So tell me why you did it.” The prince then pushed, fighting back the onslaught of angry tears that threatened to overwhelm him.

“You deserve to know the truth, Legolas, but I fear it would only bring you more grief.”

“We are a little beyond caring now, are we not?” The prince’s eyes narrowed on his father.

“Tell me the truth. I cannot be at peace unless I know why you both deceived me…”

Covering his mouth briefly with his sleeve, the Elvenking took in a draught of air to clear himself enough to answer. Yet, his voice almost shook as he spoke. “When I was young, younger than you are now, and well before your mother and I was together, I had loved another.”

Legolas looked at him incredulously but remained silent.

“I will not delve into details Legolas, but it had been Celebrian, Adlanniel’s naneth, well before even she had known Elrond.”

Legolas’ eyes narrowed further. “You speak the truth…” And yet he did not wish to believe it. “Why have you never told me this? First, you did not tell me that naneth had been with child when she died, and now this?”

“Your naneth and I did not deem it relevant enough to tell you. It happened in the past and was over, and we wanted you to only focus on our love and the love we had for you.”

Legolas bit his tongue to prevent himself from saying more, but Thranduil could see it written on his face.

“I have betrayed that love, I know that. Adlanniel had reminded me so much of the fierce love I had once held for Celebrian. She reminded me of all the mischief that Celebrian and I had gotten into during our youth. She reminded me of how much I missed those days of old; of how much I almost desperately wanted to return to something… anything that resembled then. Your naneth and Celebrian had also been the closest of friends. That is how I had actually become acquainted with your naneth; through Celebrian. Obviously, Celebrian and I were not to be… even though neither of us was to know for quite a while after, her mother, the Lady Galadriel, had seen her death if she had stayed with me. Perhaps it had actually been the death of your naneth… I do not know.” Thranduil sighed deeply as he looked back to the shadows cast on the floor. “And so Galadriel had been adamant to separate us, much to our own grief at the time. Yet, it was through such grief that we became partnered with those we were to eventually marry. Your naneth taught me to love again. I loved her with a ferocity that could have turned the furnaces of Aulë to ash. Being friends with Celebrian, your naneth and she were similar in many ways as well. That is perhaps what sparked the eventual attraction between your naneth and I. Adlanniel, being so similar to her own naneth and also to yours, encompassed everything about them. Including the love I so desperately missed. After you left here, Adlanniel relied on me for friendship as she missed you desperately.”

Legolas looked away then at those words. They were words that weighed in his stomach like the sharp stones of the ravine.

“It is the truth, Legolas.” Thranduil pushed gently, seeing his son’s pained expression.

“The truth that led to our wrongdoing, but the truth nonetheless.”

“And yet I thought that she and Gwendalyn were the best of friends. Why could she not have relied on her for such friendship?” Legolas’ cerulean gaze had become pale and greyed.

“She did for a great part, Legolas.” His father replied. “She came to me sometimes because she trusted me. I promise you it started innocently. She would ask me to tell her about stories of old, and we would talk about you and her family. It was as we grew closer that all the things I had kept bottled up began to spill out. Just looking upon her set forth all the memories… all the emotions... all the feelings I had thought I had locked away forever. Looking upon her was like a river breaking through a dam…” Thranduil pushed back the sob that threatened to escape him, yet he could not prevent the tears that trickled down his cheeks.

“Do you love her?”

Legolas’ question was so sudden that Thranduil felt winded. His eyes became wrought with painful guilt as he looked up to his son, almost pleading. “Legolas…”

“Tell me!” The table rattled against the marble of the floor as the prince slammed his fist into it. Tears continued to stream down his greyed skin as he stood, his stare fierce. “Do you love her?”

Thranduil closed his eyes briefly as he took in a breath, for his answer, he knew, would be too painful for even him to bear. “Yes.” The word spilled out of his mouth like the waters breaking through the dam he had spoken of.

By the time he realised exactly what he had said, Legolas was already halfway to the door. “Wait, Legolas!” He called out as he leaped from the sofa.

The prince froze but did not turn around to face him.

“I have no right to ask you of anything, but I beg you not to hate her for my digression.”

“It takes two to have an affair.” Came his reply as the door closed behind him.

His continence seethed as he made haste through the hallways of his father’s palace. His heart and his head ached, for now, his father’s answer repeated itself in his mind; “Do you love her?”

“Yes… ”

“Yes…”

The prince stopped as the cold winter’s air suddenly became too painful for him to breathe. The anger and heartbreak twisted his resolve, and he lashed out at the tapestry of his father’s sigil that hung upon the wall nearby him. The rending of the tearing cloth was no different to the ripping of his heart, so he thought.

“Cund vuin, are you alright?” Came a familiar voice nearby.

Legolas looked up quickly, not acknowledging the stinging of his eyes as tears streamed down them again, and the thumping of his heart as it raged in his chest.

“What are you doing away from your post, Melethril?” The prince glowered.

“I…” Melethril knew well enough that things were presently awry within the palace, but he had not expected such animosity from the prince.

“You were off dallying once again with your lady’s handmaiden, were you not? And yet I gave you such a high recommendation to the king to have you placed within his royal guard. Perhaps I should withdraw my words.”

Melethril’s violet eyes widened in a terrified shock. “Please don’t… ” He begged, for those were the only words he had the courage to muster.

“Then get back to your post and do not stick your nose where it does not belong.”

Melethril lowered his eyes and quickly made off without another word. To see the prince tear apart his father’s sigil, an act of treason in most respects, and to see him in tears, was heart-wrenching. It worried him to no end, and he wondered how many others knew of the extent of the prince’s disposition. It was definitely something he would have to confront Gwendalyn with later, for surely she had to know something.

The surreality of the day still had not abated by the time the prince reached Adlanniel’s chambers. He had not even had to knock for the door opened slowly, revealing the Lady Celebrian standing in its way. A faint light shone behind her, for now, the sun was beginning to wane, and he could feel a warm breeze blow past them as it came in from the hearth.

“Prince Legolas, I am glad to see you returned.” She said gently, her eyes still yet filled with worry.

Legolas looked up at her then after having stared past her into the room. “To what end, I wonder… ”

“I know that you wish to see her,” Celebrian began. “But she is deathly and frail. I ask only one thing of you…” She then noticed the green cloth clenched in the prince’s hand. She recognised what it was well enough, and sighed. Legolas too looked down at his tightly wound fist, where within it hung the scrap from the tapestry.

“Please be gentle to her, as much as you may believe she does not deserve it.”

Her words struck Legolas painfully then, and he looked up to her almost helplessly. The sadness opened his clenched fist and the torn cloth fell to the floor.

Gently she placed a hand on his. “Please…”

“May I be alone with her, my lady?” His reply was sad, yet as gentle as her touch upon his hand.

She nodded. “Of course.” She moved aside and allowed him to enter before she closed the door behind her.

He approached her bedside quietly and sat beside the stool that held the bowl of water and the cloth. “Oh my love… what have I done?” His eyes stung once more as he looked down at her deathly countenance, her breath so shallow it was barely noticeable. Her skin was sallow and appeared clammy, and no longer retained the youthful elasticity it once had. The pallor of death hung about her. Her raven hair too was now limp and lifeless and fell about her sleeping face like tangled vines. Pushing her hair behind her ears, he reached for the cloth and wrung it with water, gently dabbing the sweat from her brow. His lips brushed with hers and he could taste her demise coming to claim her. He almost felt nauseous at the sudden despair that consumed him, and he began to bawl at her side.

“L… Legolas?” Came her raspy voice. He looked up quickly and almost jolted away from her.

“Adlanniel!”

“You have… returned…” She tried to raise herself up, her eyes seeming to brighten slightly at his presence, but gently he pushed her back down.

“You must keep your energy.” He replied, placing the cloth back beside the bowl. Dragging a nearby seat to him, he sat near her, looking down at the floor, her sullen eyes trying to meet his.

“Are you back to stay?” Her voice was weak.

“I have questions.” He replied, simply. “But they can wait until you have gained your strength.”

Reaching out then, she touched his hand, and the gentleness was like that of her mother’s touch… something his father had admitted had attracted him to her. Yet, he did not recoil, but stiffened slightly, biting back the words that suddenly threatened to escape him.

“Please, Legolas… I feel my time is short. Say what you need to say, ask what you want the answers to.”

Legolas looked away from her then and frowned suddenly, as the anger began to slowly raise its ugly head once more. As his eyes trailed once more upwards, he noticed how swollen her stomach was now. He had not even comprehended that already half a year had passed since he had left the palace for battle. “Is it true?” He began, staring at her bump.

“That one is mine?”

Adlanniel gripped his hand tighter. “I swear to you, I do not lie about this. One is yours.”

His eyes widened, and his gaze became wondrous as he understood he was to be a father. He had no reason to disbelieve her now. Alas, the cruel realisation that the other child was not his came to his mind, and his gaze then steeled.

“Did you enjoy it? Breaking my heart?” The words spilled out before he had the chance to retract them.

Adlanniel’s eyes then seemed to fade yet another hue. Her voice cracked at the shock of such a question. “Of course not, Legolas. It was never meant to happen in the first place.”

“Then why did you do it?” He pulled his hand away from her then, and the hurt in her eyes made him hate himself for how bitter he was now suddenly being, deserved or otherwise.

She downturned her eyes and could not answer, for alas she did not have one to give. Even she could not comprehend why it had all happened. It was now simply a web she was entangled in due to her own design.

“Then perhaps you can answer me this,” The prince continued. “Do you love him?”

She looked up at him then, her eyes almost terrified from such a blunt question. She felt the air she breathed sting at her lungs as it was almost knocked out of her.

“I need some fresh air…” Her voice shook as she struggled to get out of her bed, Legolas moved out of her way, and yet did not assist her.

She threw open the balcony doors, and the sudden wind from outside caused her fur coat to fall from her body. As she stumbled along the balcony, her thin night garments slid down, revealing her bare shoulders and protruding collar bones. She fell against the column of the parapet as she gasped for breath, and clung to the icy marble as she stared down into the partially frozen river below.

“Adlanniel, come back inside. It is far too cold out.”

Yet she did not respond, and so he stepped out into the snow-blanketed balcony and retrieved her coat. She continued to stare into the river, her mind whirring like the eddying waters below, fishing her mind for the answer. Yet she knew it already.

“Yes...” She replied. “I love him Legolas.”

The prince froze where he stood. He knew as much. He placed her coat on a nearby stone bench. “That is all I needed to hear…” And with that, he turned around and began to walk back to the room.

“But I love you more than anyone Legolas! I always have!” She cried, still clutching the dried winter vines that wove around the column. “Believe me, please!” She begged.

“It does not matter…” And he continued away from her without looking back then.

The weight of her chest upon her weakened heart felt like it would crush her. Tears froze on her sallow cheeks as she watched him walk away once more. The despair within her began to rise like the tides of the Gray Havens during a full moon. She felt suddenly nauseous and her mind began to swim, her eyes began to darken as she watched his golden hair flicker from the numbing wind as he once more entered the room.

All she could remember was that icy wind rushing through her ears, and the frigid water and ice shattering against her back.

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sayonarasanity · 3 years

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hii, just read your fic 'reverberation' on ao3 and can i just say i am in love?!! i have always loved levihan being childhood friends and the interactions you write are just gold. also i am in love with your writing style, everything just moves so smoothly and i get the feeling you write magic.

and the wet road reflected the blurry image of a raven haired boy and a green hatted girl, holding hands on a col, frosty winter night.

this line was just beautiful, i don't know why but it feels so sad at the same time. i am so attached to your story, its like my daily dose of serotonin.

and once again about your writing style, the way you write it, it feels like i am watching memories blur by and the way you handle the switch from past to present just makes it so ethereal.

all the best to you! i am looking forward to read more :)

THANK YOU SO MUCH! I cannot possibly express how happy seeing this comment made me :') catch me lying on a puddle of my happy tears

I am so very glad to know that you've enjoyed the story because even though I've only posted two chapters yet, I know this story will have a special place in my heart. So, it's amazing to know that you liked it as well. It's taking me longer than usual to write chapters for this fic but I hope to deliver another one soon. Hope you'll enjoy the rest too ^^

Thank you so much again for your kind words. Have a great day! <3

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chucksandjeans · 4 years

Text

A DECADE IN REVIEW & GOALS FOR BEYOND

PRECURSOR

This is a difficult post to write because there’s a lot to reflect on. Where do I start? Over the years, I’ve gone back and forth whether it makes sense to write these things down. It all started years ago when LiveJournal was popular. I wrote down daily routines and activities that I did during the week. It was remarkably diary-oriented with little thought put into what I wanted out of it. This Tumblr account started 11 years ago in 2008 when I arrived in Singapore to start my semester abroad. I started to document my exchange adventures, foods I ate, sights I saw. It was a means to write down my life so I would not forget it. In more recent times, I continued writing down travel blogs but moved towards using writing as a way to plan for the future. It’s interesting looking back and seeing that my younger self scribbled notes about daily events, then grew into my 20s writing things down to not forget them, and now using writing to plan for the future. I wonder what the next decade in review will look like.

2010-2019 AT A GLANCE

Overall, I give myself A- for this decade.

RELATIONSHIP - A

I spent the first few years of the decade lost. I came out of a long-term relationship and hurt people along the way, myself included. It was a difficult time in my life and I was jaded for a long time. Between the ages of 22 and around 25, I was a quintessential tool that did a lot of things that I thought someone in their early 20s should be doing. Going out, dating random people, not being honest with anyone to protect myself. It took a lot of courage to get out of that state and looking backwards, it was a state that I had to go through. Things changed when I met my wife who pulled me out of that slump and showed me that love could be all powerful. I am so grateful for my past relationships because they all brought me to where I am today. My marriage has evolved from a simple swipe to dating to moving in to signing the papers and soon having our first child. It’s crazy to think back to 2010, what I was doing and thinking back then, and fast forward to today. It’s magical to see what life has to offer and I am only beginning to appreciate all the small things. I started weak but finished the decade strong.

FAMILY - B+

My family is small in Toronto and North America. I love them deeply and when I look back, I don’t think I truly showed them that when I was younger. My parents brought me here, giving up their careers and community, so I could have a better life. I gave them a ton of grief as a teenager and could have done a better job in my 20s to take care of them. As I grew older, I understand why my dad use to say “you’ll know when you’re older”. I use to roll my eyes but now I understand. I hope I can pass this knowledge onto my child(ren) so that they can mature their thinking. Likely, they won’t understand until they are adults too but that’s just how the cookie crumbles. My extended family in Hong Kong - I neglected them for the most part. I spent my 20s traveling around the world and only went back in 2018, 10 years after my last visit. I can’t express how happy I was to see them and at the same time, seeing how the years have taken its toll on them. I hope I still have time to see them and create memories before the winters go by.

FRIENDS - B+

The definition of friend has changed dramatically. I use to think friends were the ones who I partied with, drank with and ate with. I tried to have as many friends as possible and know as many people as possible. What a silly way to think? People came and gone and I struggled with that, in particular when the fake friends faded away. Real friends faded away too. I can’t say that it came as a surprise but it definitely came. I use to think friends lasted forever - the way we hung out, how often we hung out, how many movies we saw - but now I see, just like everyone said, parties will eventually end. I had to redefine what the word friendship meant to me. Sometimes I look at photographs and see faces of people that I never see or talk to. Friendships evolve and I am glad that there are a handful that I cherish deeply. New friends, old friends, it’s time to think about who are the real friends.

CAREER - A

The beginning of the decade marked the beginning of my career. I started at E&Y in September 2009 so January 2010 was still early days. I just finished the CKE and going into my first busy season before the SOA and UFE exams later in 2010. It was a long time ago but it feels like yesterday. I wonder if 2010 VLiu knew that everything would be okay, that 10 years later, he would be still clueless and figuring things out. So much has happened since then, from being promoted to moving functions to companies. I got lost in a big company and searched for meaning in my work. I learned how to work tools and technology, networked and built relationships. I screwed up, joined the wrong company and returned to a career that I knew was not my passion. I met great people, managed a growing team and launched a business. I did case studies. I learned that my skills defined me but I could learn new skills. I pushed harder than I ever thought possible, mentally and emotionally. This last decade was a blur. What a blur.

TRAVEL - A+

I did well here. After the exchange semester and Europe backpacking trip in 2009, 2010 onwards marked the most active travel itineraries that I could dream of. Years ago I already started jotting down my goals on where to globetrot and as this decade comes to a close, I am proud to have been to 6 of the 7 continents, hiked some of the world’s greatest trails, lived in tiny huts and tents to lush hotels. It was a decade to remember and a passport to cherish. I grew a lot as a person having seen so many things and as I think back, I am very lucky to have had the opportunities, money, time and freedom (and companions) to see these places. Travel is good for the soul, and this part of my soul is happy. I marked Norway as my 50th country with my wife and no longer am I chasing stamps. I am now chasing memories.

HEALTH - B

I am proud of myself for creating a healthy lifestyle for myself early on even before 2010. I have a certain friend to thank for this, but early on in first year university, he inspired me to take up weight training. Since then, I have been dedicated to this activity and it carried through to 2019. I can’t say that I work out as much anymore. From 2010-2015, I probably worked out 5 times a week for at least 60 minutes per session and ate a ton of protein shakes. In more recent years, this has dialed back for reasons I am ashamed to say as laziness. I still go 1-2 times per week but that’s still way less than before. However, I am choosing to eat healthier with less meat which counts for something!

FINANCE - B+

I have been notorious with saving and believing that paying myself first is always the best path forward. I don’t know what the future holds so having a steady contribution to investments was the approach that I have been taking. Hopefully it works. I trust finance theory.

PERSONAL - B+

I am proud of what I’ve accomplished between 2010-2019. I’ve grown as a person personally and professionally. I have matured in how I think about friends and family, and what it means to be happy. I made mistakes along the way and I learned from them. Now, I am in a good place with all aspects of my life. Overall, it was a good 10 years.

FAVOURITE MOMENTS OF THE DECADE

Everything Celine-related: meeting her, getting to know her, building a relationship, planning a wedding, having the wedding, and all the ups and downs in-between. I think back and cannot picture my life without her.

Road trip: the drive from Toronto to LA was monumental and solidified some lifelong friendships that cannot be replicated. The memories are so precious and I am so glad that trip happened.

Buying a house and decorating: the rush of signing papers, moving in and the fun of hanging paintings and measuring furniture. Ah, first homes!

Walking the Highline NYC with Celine: it was just so magical. The sunset, the city, the photo that captured it all.

Weddings: this decade was filled with many joyous celebrations of my friends getting married. It was so beautiful to see them tie the knot and celebrate with old friends. I know I complained about too many weddings, but now that I think about it, I will miss the weddings.

Revisiting Singapore: SG has a special place in my heart. Seeing PGP again too. It feels like a different me but the same me. I miss that part of my life a lot.

Darth and See Lai month: 2015 was a rough year as I chose a terrible boss and made a made career mistake. Luckily for me, I had a network to help me and I got through it. Darth reminds me that most importantly in any career, happiness comes first. Money is a byproduct. The one month spent at home was filled with mom-son time. I loved every second of it, even though I was recovering from a traumatizing experience.

Jamie: Jamie Anderson, the classiest man I know. His deep voice, decisive attitude, and gentleman’s classiness, I will never forget.

Corporate Development: this was a huge career accelerator for me. The people that I met and the deals that I worked on set me up nicely for the rest of my career. Project Laker will always be my pride and joy.

Ventures, Anthony and Derek: Joining RBC Ventures was a life-changing experience. I finally learned that I could learn new skills, and be friends with the people I worked with. I met two of my greatest mentors. It was the time of my life.

Norway: nuff said. Norway 2 aka. Iceland was also great.

Travel stuff: all the places I went this decade were so great.

Duncan and NWTS nights: some of these nights I dragged myself out. Now that I think back, these are the nights I can’t and still remember.

Living in condos: Pinnacle has a special place in my heart. Moving from 12 to 16 Yonge and to 33 Bay several floors. I had fun living in my own filth hehe and eating take-out everyday, walking to the Goodlife at 8pm to workout. Everything has a time and place.

Being a douche in the PATH: slicked hair, fitted suit. Every dude has to try it once!

Mom karaoke parties: always a fun time!

Music festivals: Veld, Swedish House Mafia, Digital Dreams. #awesomesauce

Hanging out at NWS townhouse and walking to BBT with Stella: the summers that I lived downtown had some fun activities after work. The summers were always filled with nighttime fun like bars and drinking and walking Bentley.

Passing UFE: it was pretty cool studying for the exams and passing them!

Cube: club nights.

2019 AT A GLANCE

I am very happy with 2019. My wife and I came out of 2018 with gusto with new energy and dreams. This year had a fair share of ups and downs which taught me resilience and the power of positive thinking. When Steve left the company, I was devastate and had to learn how to deal with it while managing a big team. Celine and I hiked Patagonia and we found out we were expecting a baby. Later in the year, I found a new career direction while preparing for the new baby’s arrival. It was an experiential year with so much to be thankful for.

RELATIONSHIP - A

This was the first full calendar year of marriage. Celine and I are growing day by day and moving on to the next chapter with the arrival of our baby in a few weeks. 2019 was a much “easier” year than 2018 now that the wedding and the house costs are behind us, so we spent a large part of the year enjoying each other’s companies. We spent our honeymoon hiking in Chile, visiting family in Vancouver, and explored Italy, Slovakia and Hungary. We ate at amazing restaurants and created unforgettable memories. A few weeks ago, we ate at Patria, the restaurant where we had our first date, to close a chapter in our lives as a couple and welcomed the next chapter as a family of three. We are ready.

FAMILY - A

I really enjoyed this year because we had the chance to visit family with my parents in Vancouver. It was a very fun trip and one that was long overdue. Without the pressure of the wedding, 2019 was more of a breeze.

FRIENDS - A

We had a fair share of dinners and hangouts this year. Celine also hosted a few DTL sessions at home which was great. I also strengthened friendships with some old friends and new friends, which I am particularly proud of.

CAREER - A+

There were a ton of ups and downs this year. From Steve leaving the organization to an unnamed person on the team who was a pain to manage, this was year marked with learning how to deal with things. My career was predominantly smooth sailing except for the grief that I cause myself mentally but this year was truly a test on my character and perseverance. I was lucky to have great mentors and friends who coached me through the hard times and I came out the other side a stronger person. Later in the year, I found happiness in a new career direction. I saw this as a culmination of my many sleepless days and nights thinking about what’s next, and an outlet for my trapped ambition. I am at peace with all the bumps that I encountered to get here because now I am here, and I love it. Earlier in the year, I set out to find a role where I can develop new skills, stimulate my brain, gives me a strong network and provides a leverage a brand. I can truly say that 2019 was a defining year for my career.

TRAVEL - A

Celine and I flew a fair bit this year from Chile to Vancouver to Europe. Chile was a beauty and brought me back to our road trip days in Norway and Iceland. Hiking in Patagonia, trekking the Atacama and sleeping in a rusty shack near the Magellan Strait are going to be memories of a lifetime. Vancouver, another great trip with family. Europe was a different feel and it was Celine’s first time in the Eastern side of the continent. The cuisine and history was super awesome and I’d go back in a heartbeat. From a work travel perspective, I had the chance to go to New Orleans for a few days and then San Francisco for 11 days for orientation. It was my spending so much time in San Francisco and I am thankful that I had the opportunity to experience it. Now I know that I shouldn’t pick a hotel in Tenderloin to stay in. I did not do well in setting a new travel goal however. After I hit 50 countries, it’s been challenging to think of a tangible target to run towards. I need to do that this year.

HEALTH - B-

This was an average year for health both physically and mentally. Physically, I’ve been going to the gym less and less, maybe 1-2 times per week. I did complete the RBC Race for the Kids 5km though in a pretty decent time, but next year, woooobooooyyy not sure. I spent many nights stressed and sleepless because of the ups and downs at the office so that was not great. However, Celine and I started doing affirmations first thing in the morning and before bed. It’s a chance for us to think about what we are thankful for. It’s become routine for us now, and it’s helped a lot.

FINANCE - B

We did well this year. Aside from being a big under the water after the basement and backyard renovations, which we had to do, we kept our spending in check and continued to save throughout the year. Celine and I are both aligned on how we view finances which is good, and a testament to how a rough 2018 year prepared us for 2019 and beyond (especially with a new baby coming soon).

PERSONAL - C+

I spent the last few years thinking about my career and very little on how to improve myself outside of that realm. I don’t know how much that has impacted me, but I can say at a minimum that it’s kept me up many a nights thinking about my career. Now that my career has been realigned, I should spend more time thinking about my goals from a personal perspective. In 2018, I did accomplish my goal of reading 3 books and writing in my journal 2x per month. These now seem like easy, attainable goals though so nothing to celebrate.

FAVOURITE MOMENTS OF 2019

Celine telling me that she’s pregnant: unspeakable happiness.

Hearing my baby’s heartbeat for the first time with my ear: this was so mind-boggling to me. For the longest time, the baby did not hit me as reality as much as Celine...since she was carrying Leia and all. But hearing her heartbeat changed it all.

Seeing my Uncle 1 and Auntie 1: I haven’t seen them for years...or a decade. I can’t remember now but it was warming to see them again in the same house years later.

At Stephen’s Basilica rooftop: the sunset was beautiful atop the church looking over Budapest. It was not quite Aksla, but it was indeed captivating.

Cuernos and Patagonia: the views, experience, air and water. The hike, although rainy, was perfect.

Borago: World’s 50 Best does not disappoint. My favourite was still the rainwater from Patagonia.

Windy shack in Punta Arenas: the town was lame but the tiny hut that called itself an Airbnb was memorable. The Magellan Strait is very windy and shook the house until Celine and I worried that the roof would fall onto us. Hah.

The day we almost died: Patagonia at its finest.

Steve leaving: this was a rough day for me and the beginning of a rough week. My world fell apart piece by piece and I did not feel career disappointment like this before.

Me leaving: the decision to leave Butter/Ventures was difficult and I weighed the pros and cons. I chose to leave under my criteria which was easy, but actually leaving was very hard. Luckily for me the relationships that mattered are still strong.

Various case studies: LOL.

Interview at Square: I got the first email when I got back from Europe in early September. From then until the final interview on Wednesday, October 23 was a rush. I received the offer verbally on Friday, October 25. I accepted the Saturday. It all moved so quickly.

Seeing NWS super happy about escape rooms: I rarely see NWS that excited and it was fun to see on Ryan’s birthday. Board games and escape rooms - it was more like NWS’ birthday.

GOALS FOR 2020 AND BEYOND

RELATIONSHIP

I will support my wife in her personal and career endeavors. I will encourage her to be creative, ambitious and honest with herself so that she can achieve her maximum potential.

I will be an attentive and caring husband, and try to be positive in the most difficult situations. I will listen first and offer an opinion after if suitable in the situation.

I will be cognizant that my wife is stressed from taking care of the baby and try to relieve her stress as much as possible.

I will recognize milestones and also everyday events because life is short.

Stretch: I will create and capture more memories outside of Instagram, through writing, photos or videos.

By 2029: I will be a model husband that knows how to cook, clean and take care of my wife and family. I will continue celebrating the big and small moments with my wife, remembering anniversaries and birthdays, and continue being the young-love that we have today.

FAMILY

I will be a great father, whatever that means! I don’t know yet but I promise to be a great one.

I will be more present in gatherings and create a balance where possible to bridge the various groups.

I will maintain a strong relationship with family overseas.

Stretch: talk to at least 1 overseas family member once a month

By 2029: I will be the father to 2 beautiful children. I will be supportive and understand them as much as possible, and try not to be a lame dad. I will have great relationships with my family and my in-laws, and maintain a strong connection those overseas. I will be back in HK at least 2 times in this decade.

FRIENDS

I will build on strong social bonds by reaching out, staying in touch, physically going to see friends, and recognizing special moments.

I understand that this aspect of my life may change with a new baby coming but I hope to maintain a relationship with at least my closest friends. I will not be non-existent to friends.

Stretch: hang out with 1 friend per a month

By 2029: I will be a great friend to a small group of people. I will celebrate their big and small moments, and try my best to keep the group close.

CAREER

I will think about my career more critically and plan out my path. Now that I have started a new path at Square, it is important to think about what I am learning here and map that out against where I want to eventually get to. This allows me to think about my career in a more structured way.

I will consistently evaluate my skillset and upgrade/up-skill where I see a gap, through reading books or taking a course.

Stretch: meet at least 2 new people every month who can help me in my career or gives me new ideas and add an international aspect to my experiences; discuss international opportunities with Square

By 2029: I will be managing a small, high-performing team in a career of my choosing. This career will pay well, have great people and culture, and grant me the flexibility to work the way I want to to suit my lifestyle. I will have international work experience.

TRAVEL

Find a new goal that revolves around travel and cultural exploration. I want to love travel immensely again.

Go to at least one place with the new baby on a plane.

Stretch: Take Celine and the baby to San Francisco for a few weeks.

By 2029: I will have been to 60 countries and went on 2 more big hikes (which could mean something like Patagonia). I will have been back to Africa somewhere, Asia and Australia. Europe is fine too but it will have to be Scandinavia or Eastern Europe. Our baby will be well-traveled.

HEALTH

I will choose to eat healthy food more often. In particular, this means more fish, chicken, vegetables and legumes, and less red meat, fried foods and dairy products.

I will eat more fruits and drink more water (at least 2L daily).

I will workout at least twice a week.

Stretch: drink 3L of water daily, workout thrice a week and run one organized 5km-run.

By 2029: my kids would be old enough by this time so that I can go back to a regular gym schedule. Between 2020-2029, I want to maintain a healthy body and mind, great sleep, and no need for drugs. I will have healthy cholesterol and X levels to be able to eat what I want and exercise the way I want. I will look good.

FINANCE

I will continue shifting the finances on a monthly basis to ensure that Celine and I are tracking towards our retirement goals.

I will spend less money on products and more on experiences.

I will cut back on impromptu purchases.

I will continue saving money for myself, Celine and the baby.

Stretch: plan for investment property

By 2029: we will have 2 investment properties and a sizable investment portfolio suitable for our stage in life. We will be have financial freedom defined as having enough money to do what we want largely without financial limitations.

PERSONAL

I will find out what it means to be a husband and father.

I will dedicate time to self-improvement through reading, listening to podcasts, thinking about the future and philosophical topics, and documentaries where I can learn something.

I will focus on what I can control and push out things that I cannot control. I worry too much so this will help me reduce mental stress.

I will be a better listener and only dish out tough love sparingly.

I will continue documenting my career ambitions and philosophies in my journal at least 2x a month.

I will clean the house once a month. This means wiping the windows, vacuuming and mopping the floors, bleaching the sink, etc.

I will not leave my shoes and jackets everywhere, and will not leave the lights on if I don’t have to.

Stretch: I will read 5 books this year.

By 2029: I will be happy.

1 note · View note

ahrorha · 6 years

Text

Flame of Winter

Chapter 13

With a sigh Solas untied his wet footwrappings, he wrinkled his nose when stinky mud fell from them to the ground. It had been a long and exhausting day. His clothes were damp and filthy after spending the whole day in the rain, roaming through what was left of old Crestwood and its caverns below. The stench of mud, rotting kelp and dead fish had followed them where ever they went in the once submerged village. The smell would linger in their clothes for several days, and for once he was glad he didn't have his long dreadlocks any longer. It would have been a pain to clean them; it had its advantages that he was now bald.

“Iiiiiieeeuww.” Sera shrieked by the campfire, followed by the deep laughter of Black Wall and Ryan, Cassandra let out one of her disagreeing growls. Groaning Solas massaged his forehead, the headache; he had nursed for days was returning. Weary he studied his companions sitting around the fire.

They had arrived at Crestwood, after days of travelling through bad weather, only to discover the land was plagued by the undead and demons. The source wasn't hard to guess, with the light of a great rift shimmering under the surface of the lake. Sadly, what started as a straightforward mission to meet Hawke and the Warden soon turned into a lengthy ordeal.

Dealing with the bandits occupying the local Keep was relatively easy. Soon they had cleaned it out and set up a new base for the Inquisition. After locating the dam controls they drained parts of the lake, revealing what was left of old Crestwood. For Solas, the real challenge began as soon as they set foot in the thick mud of the lake bottom. To his delight, they encountered spirits wandering around like they once used to. The rift under the lake appeared to be big enough for them to pass through without suffering its corrupting forces. Fascinated Solas stepped forward before he was blocked by Ryan, Cassandra and Blackwall, who had drawn their weapons.

“That will not be necessary!” Solas quickly intervened. “They will do us no harm unless we provoke them. It is fortunate that they were not corrupted by the forces of the rift.”

Sera let out a small shriek behind him when the spirit faded out of focus for a moment and disappeared. “Where did it go? Piss! They should just bugger off into your stupid Fade thing.”

“You think that they are fortunate?” Ryan huffed. “You spent to much time with them. They shouldn't be here; they don't belong here.”

“Spirits are as much part of this world than any other creature.” Solas tried to explain patiently.

“They failed the Maker. He created the Veil to separate us from them. To keep us safe.”

'So I am your Maker.' Solas thought, but swallowed his remark and followed the others into what was left of the once sunken village. By the time they reached the rift Solas mood had darkened. Navigating the dark, damp tunnels under the lake with a skittish Sera, yelling and cursing whenever a spirit appeared, and a nervous Ryan, who decided to quote Chantry phrases to protect them, had worn him down. Luckily he somehow managed to prevent any killing or harm to an innocent spirit.

Sitting in front of his tent Solas let out a sigh; tomorrow would bring another long day. Having had enough of his companions, he decided to retire. Hanging his coat out to dry, he heard a slap, followed by Sera's colourful cussing. At least he would have one satisfaction today he thought. He had warded his tent against the numerous mosquitoes the lake produced. He hadn't offered the others the same kind of protection. Hearing another slap, he slipped into his tent with a satisfying smirk.

Lying down Solas wondered, not for the first time, how different his day would have been if Eirlana had been here. He could just imagine her delight at meeting spirits outside of the Fade. He missed her, more than he thought was possible. He longed for her presence, the conversations, her smile. Turning to his side his hand wandered to the empty space next to him. Staring at his hand, he let out another sigh; he also missed her physically, her warmth, her soft touches. Annoyed he balled his hand into a fist. This craving he felt for one single person was new to him, and it worried him. Even with his partners in the past, his mind had always wandered, drifting away, plotting, planning, scheming. Now it was the other way around. His thoughts were pulled towards her, wondering about her reaction, her thoughts, her expression. He pulled his hand back grumbling in frustration. He was acting like some lovestruck teenager. Angry with himself he dove into the Fade, seeking out his friends. They would help him to focus, their mindsets not cluttered by worldly distractions.

The setting sun turned the gathering clouds in a dark crimson red. It would start to snow soon. Eirlana hurried towards the library before she went to bed. Hugging her book, she wondered how Solas and the others were doing. It had already been a week since they had left Skyhold. Stepping onto the balcony above the great hall, she saw Vivienne lounging in one of her decadent chairs reading a letter. A messenger waited next to her. She noticed Eirlana as she came closer, giving her a calculating look.

Eirlana didn't know what to think of her. Even though Vivienne was here to help, her air of superiority and decadence was making her anxious. It reminded her too much of her old master.

Dismissing the messenger, Vivienne smiled politely at her. “My dear. I was just thinking about you. Please take a seat.” she gestured towards the chair across of her.

Reluctantly Eirlana sat down feeling uneasy under Viviennes assessing stare.

“I apologise, we haven't had earlier a chance to converse. Tell me how are you adapting? I can only imagine it must be quite a change after that awful time you spent in Tevinter.”

Eirlana didn't know what to say. It confused her that most people only focused on her time spent in Tevinter. Almost no one spoke to her about what she had suffered at the hands of the rogue templar and his companions. What they did to her during the months she was their prisoner was far worse than anything she had endured in Tevinter.

“Some things are still new to me.” she answered politely. “It is sometimes difficult, but I am getting used to it.” Nervous she started to bite her lip. She didn't like the topic Vivienne wanted to discus.

“I must say I was surprised when I heard of your background. Tell me, my dear, did you get any form of teaching in Tevinter?”

Eirlana shook her head.

Vivienne narrowed her eyes, studying her. “May I ask how did you gain your skills in healing-magic?”

“I... I just feel what to do.” Eirlana answered carefully, in part that was the basis of her skills. What she had learned from the spirits was to use the energies of the Fade freely. To feel the magic and follow it's flow, rather then force it into a shape. In truth, if it weren't for the Veil she would have a much easier time to practise her magic here.

“To achieve what you do without any form of supervision is impressive. It seems you are gifted with natural skills. Tell me have you ever wondered how much you could grow with a formal education?”

Eirlana knew she meant hers and the circle's teachings. “I am still learning and Solas helps me a lot.”

“Yes, I imagine he has done a fair enough job so far, but wouldn't it be better to seek out additional people with knowledge. It would be a waste of your talents not to seek out the proper guidance.”

The tone of the conversation was slowly shifting less friendly.

“I am happy with how things are at the moment.”

“Then tell me what is your opinion on the dangers of the Fade.”

On her guard, Eirlana asked. “The dangers of the Fade, what do you mean?”

“You must know that spirits are dangerous and full of temptation and malice.”

“I find the Fade not more dangerous than the waking world. It has its own occupants, its own rules to follow, just like this one.”

“And you know these rules? Then you are aware spirits cannot be trusted. They are vicious creatures seeking out any form of weakness. They exploit any chance they can get. You would do well if you acknowledge this and strengthen your defences.”

“I have learned to defend myself at a young age.”

“How often I have heard those words from young mages. Never underestimate them, demons are dangerous, they are a destructive force praying on any mage.”

“Demons are powerful and cunning; it is their desire to seek a path to our world. It is tragic when they take over a host, but it also part of their nature. They are predators, if you enter their territory you risk being eaten.”

“I see why you get along so splendidly, with our resident Fade expert. Do tell me what is your brilliant plan if you encounter one.”

“Don't be prey.”

“Tsssssss.” Vivienne hissed. It was obvious she was displeased with her answers.

“Thank you for your concern. Have a good evening.” Eirlana stood up and left.

A little irritated Eirlana went into the library. Ignoring the stationed templar, she walked hastily to the shelves the furthest away from him. Walking along the railing, her eyes wandered to Solas' empty desk below her. She missed him.

“He will be back you know.” Dorian sat in a comfortable chair in a corner of the library, a book in one hand and swirling a glass of brandy in the other.

“I know.” she gave him a small smile.

“You miss him don't you?”

Eirlana nodded and began to put her book back and started to look for a new one.

“The choice of good reading material is somewhat limited I am afraid.” Dorian stood up and took a book from the shelve, filled with poetry. “I can recommend this one.”

“Thank you.”

A sister walked past them, giving Dorian a dark look before she walked hastily away. Outside wet snow began to whip against the window.

“Just great. Cold, wet, distrusting ungrateful dogpeople.” Dorian started to mutter to himself. “Why did I even bother to come here?”

“Why did you come?” Eirlana asked, curious about his motives.

Dorian regarded her for a moment. “You may find this strange, but I care for my homeland. It may be hard to understand for you southerners.”

She bit her lip looking down at her feet. “I... I am not from the south.”

“Of course you wouldn't....” Dorian broke off his sentence. “You are not? Then where...?”

“Ego hic servire. Dominus.” she whispered, looking hesitant at him.

For a moment Dorian stared at her, shocked. “Oh.”

“I lived in Tevinter almost my whole life.”

“Then you were a...?”

Eirlana nodded looking at her feet again. It was somewhat different to admit she had been a slave to one who knew how Tevinter was really like.

Slightly uncomfortable Dorian searched for the right words. “I am sorry. I am aware of the treatment elves can get in my homeland. Know we of the Pavus family have always treated our slaves decent. I know some of my countrymen are power-hungry madmen. That's why I'm here. To stop history from repeating itself.”

She felled relieved Dorian sounded sincere. “That's why we all are here.”

They fell silent, both not knowing what to say.

“Thank you for the book. I will read it.” Eirlana broke the awkward moment.

“Yes, maybe we can discuss it after you have finished it.” he smiled at her.

“I would like that.” she returned the smile. “Have a good night.”

The grove was peaceful and quiet. A spring splashed calmly into the dark deep waters of the pond. It was surrounded by lush green ferns and boulders covered with thick mosses. Solas sat on a small bank staring at the water, the serenity of the Fade felt like a soothing balm after the stressful day.

“Your mind is drifting.”

Solas blinked as he heard the voice of Wisdom next to him. His thoughts had wandered off while listening to her. “I am sorry, friend.”

“Don't be. It gladdens me.”

“Why?” he asked her.

“Your mind is anchored in the present, not longer drifting solely to what once was.” Wisdom waved over the pool, conjuring Eirlana's face in the water. “She is in your thoughts.”

Solas had to swallow. “A small diversion, nothing more.” He knew his growing attachment was making an already difficult situation more complicated. It was a danger to him and his task.

“Why do you lie to yourself?”

He had to smirk, Eirlana was really becoming his weakness if his lies were getting this obvious.

“Why?”

Puzzled, Solas looked at his old friend. “Why what?”

“Why is she a weakness? Fighting for others has always made you stronger in the past.”

Solas doubted it was fighting for others that had made him strong. Determination, purpose and self-interest had always been his strengths. Heroism and self-sacrifice was never a part of him. He had always acted on his own wishes and desires, plotted and schemed to better himself, to show his strength and defeat his enemies. He did what he thought was right. Even after he decided to oppose the other Evanuris, he had been cocky, confident in his superiority, a show off. Too late he recognised the dangers of his actions. In the end, his hand was forced and many had suffered the consequences, including the Fade and its occupants. Many of his close friends in the Fade had ceased to exist.

With a heavy heart, he turned to Wisdom.

“What of the other spirits? Please tell me old friend. What do you see?”

“Spirits, separated from the waking world thousands of years. Like the waking people, we have forgotten how it once was. Being apart for ages, we don't remember the harmony our worlds were once in. We feel the wall weakening, falling apart. We are getting restless, pressing against it, curious, almost touching. Our longing draws us closer, yet we are unable to reach, to understand. Others grow angry, seeing the other side as a danger. They want to protect, to preserve. We are as the waking people, unable to grasp that what is unavoidable.”

It pained Solas to hear what he already knew. What he had done to the realm he loved. “There was no other choice.” his voice was loaded with grief, the burden he carried, the countless lives he altered.

Wisdom placed a hand on his shoulder. “Some things once set in motion are unstoppable like the passing of time. The Veil is slowly dissolving, whether for good or worse it has to be seen. Some choices once made can never be changed. You made your choice long ago, and you have to live with its consequences.” She slowly stood up and drifted away, leaving Solas to think. Before she disappeared, she turned around. “Do you know the beauty of choices?”

Feeling miserable Solas looked at her. “No.”

“You can always make new ones.”

After Wisdom had left him, Solas began to wander the Fade, brooding about her words. He paid no attention where he went until he suddenly heard child-laughter. Looking up, he saw Eirlana. It hadn't been his intention to intrude in her dreams. He knew he should leave before she would notice him, but he couldn't bring himself to it.

Eirlana stood at the side of a small room, several wisps floating around her. The room was scarcely furnished, and everything looked shabby and poor. A rough wooden table with two chairs stood in the centre, in the corner was one bed with coarse blankets, a few shelves at the wall held chipped and cracked kitchenware and some folded clothes.

A skinny woman stood at the sink preparing something. Solas couldn't make out her face for her head wasn't formed, but her hunched back, patched clothing and rough bony hands told of a life of hard labour. She looked worn even without a face. The child-laughter came closer, and a small elven boy ran into the room. He was thin and poorly clad, but he looked lively with his bronze skin, rosy cheeks and short dark brown curls. He looked like he was three or four years old. Behind him entered a young skimpy elven girl. She looked a little older, maybe six years old, and had auburn hair in big unruly curls. Her skin was rich bronze, and her big brown eyes shone full of life. Her bare feet were dirty from dust, and she wore a simple dress, patched and repaired in countless places.

Laughing and shrieking in joy, they chased each other around the table, until the boy started to wheeze and cough. He fell and started to cry. The woman turned around and, judging by her body language, spoke harshly to the children.

The whole scene did last only for a few seconds when it froze, and Eirlana turned around. “Solas?”

Solas walked closer. “Vhenan. I apologise, I didn't mean to intrude.”

One of the wisps started to hum and hovered in between them, shining brightly. She laughed at it. “No, it's alright. Go along now.” It swirled around her once before drifting away with the others.

Solas looked at her curious, raising an eyebrow.

Smiling, Eirlana stepped closer to him. “He wanted to know if he should zap you.”

“Zap me?”

“Yes, sorry. They are a little protective sometimes.”

“You can understand wisps?” He could hardly believe it. Wisps were the faintest of spirits, not able to absorb much of their surroundings. They were curious creatures but often misunderstood. If they weren't summoned and bound by magic, peaceful encounters with them were rare. They often lashed out when they felt threatened and as far as he knew they weren't able to communicate.

“It's not like I really understand them, it's more like...” She pondered for a while. “It is hard to describe, it's like I can feel their intent, their thoughts.”

Not for the first time Solas was in awe of her abilities. He had always thought himself an expert of the Fade and its spirits. Even back in Arlathan not many others could match his vast knowledge about the realm. Without it, it would have been impossible for him to create the Veil. Know he realised his knowledge had its own limitations. He had studied and learned to use the Fade, to shape it and draw from its unlimited power and possibilities. Hearing Eirlana describe her interaction, she understood the Fade on another level. She had been thought by the Fade itself, learned its workings directly from the spirits themselves. Her excessive exposure from a young age made her interpretations and instincts a second nature. It was more pure and in a way better then his, not burdened by generations of theories and teachings thought by other magic users.

Eirlana looked excited at him. “You really are a dreamer, like the dreamers of the past. To be able to visit me here in my own dreams.”

“I learned through the knowledge shared by spirits and by seeking out different memories, the ability to slip into someone's dream.” The lies and half-truths rolled smoothly of Solas' tongue. It was second nature to him. “I must admit that in comparison with the true dreamers of Arlathan, my own skills are a mere shadow of the powers they must have wielded.” It stung he had to lie to her, deep down he wished he could tell her the truth. To tell her that she was right, but he couldn't risk it. Too much was at stake. Not wanting to linger on the subject, he focussed back at the dream behind her. “Who are they?”

Eirlana turned back to the room behind her. “That is my little brother and me, and what faint memories I have left of my mother.”

Solas could almost feel the sadness and the hurt in her voice. Seeing the child, he could hardly believe they were the same person. They looked so different with the darker skin, auburn hair, little freckles around the nose and those radiant brown eyes. “This is you?”

“It is hard to believe isn't it.” she smiled sadly. “The lyrium, experiments and rituals did more than just erase my memories. They changed me.”

The memory began to move again. The little girl sat down in front of the coughing and crying boy; small colourful butterfly-like lights sprang from her fingertips. The boy was calming down and started to smile and laugh again, trying to grab the lights with his tiny hands. There was a crash of a pan, food spilt to the ground as the mother stood in shock.”

“That was one of my first spells I ever cast in the open.” Eirlana's voice sounded detached as she summoned the same butterflies in her hand. “I loved my brother dearly. He was very sick.”

For a while, she felt silent staring at the frozen dream. The butterflies slowly disappeared.

“I just wanted to make him happy.” She whispered. She swallowed hard before she could continue. “As far as I can remember my mother brought me in front of the Laetan, a magic user not attached to any great family, the next day and sold me.”

“She sold you?”

“We were poor. With my brother sick it was the only way for my mother to get any money. Not that there was any other choice, my magic would have been found out sooner or later. Better she could profit from it before I was stolen away by her master. Not that I understood it at that time, I was still a child. All I knew my mother abandoned me and left me at the mercy of a strange man.” Eirlana shivered slightly and wrapped her arms around herself protectively. Solas stepped behind her, wrapping her in his arms, holding her.

“I don't even know if they are still alive or if selling me helped them at all.”

He held her tighter against him. “I am so sorry.” he whispered.

“I am not even sure if this is an accurate memory or something I have made up over the years.” Eirlana could feel tears burning in her eyes. Closing them she leaned against Solas, resting her head on his shoulder. His presence calmed her down. “I miss you.” she whispered

Feeling his own emotions stir Solas squeezed his eyes shut. “I miss you also.” he admitted.

His voice sounded strained. Eirlana turned around in his arms studying his face. “You look tired.”

“I am.” he sighed. “It has been a long day. We encountered spirits in the waking world; they had drifted through a large tear.”

“Really. What did they say? How did they find our world? The Veil must have been very thin or damaged for them to remain their form for so long.”

Solas saw her eyes sparkle with excitement, he had been right. His day would have been very different with her at his side.

The tent was warm when Solas woke up. Half expecting to see Eirlana, lying next to him curled up in her blanket, he opened his eyes. Of course, he was alone, and he cursed himself when he felt the disappointment and the longing. He hadn't meant to seek her out, but unconsciously his mind had drawn him into her dream. Their lives were intertwining more and more with every step he took. It was dangerous for both of them. As Wisdom had pointed out, he made his choice long ago, and there was no turning back. His path was set, and yet the thought that he had to leave her in the future made his heart ache.

During the day Solas' mood darkened even more after they found Venatori at an ancient elven grove. The documents they carried indicated that they were searching the ruins for something. It confirmed what his agents already told him, that there was an increased interest in old elven locations. Once more others tried to steal and enrich themselves from what was left of the bones of the People. It worried Solas, for he knew what could have survived until this age, and it was nothing that should fall into the wrong hands. He needed to contact his agents tonight, to hasten the recovery of specific objects.

When they finally reached the cave to meet up with Hawke, Solas was surprised to see the Warden Hawke spoke of was Loghain. He had seen him in memories of the Fade. How he fought for Fereldan, a Hero, only to be disgraced by a decision he made at Ostagar. One decision had doomed this person's name forever. It was ironic Solas thought, just as himself, history would remember him a traitor. His noble deeds overshadowed and forgotten.

Solas kept to himself, listening quietly as they discussed the Grey Wardens. It wasn't a surprise, his companions were appalled that his noble group of protectors had fallen under Corypheus corruption, like the templars before them. As if the Wardens hadn't already been corrupted for centuries.

The discussion about the calling, however, peaked his interest. The song that every blighted creature heard including the Wardens had somehow been triggered by Corypheus. They hadn't had any reports of increased darkspawn activity anywhere so this calling was explicitly triggered within the Wardens only, which upon itself was fascinating.

Solas glanced at the reports Loghain had gathered and was surprised by their meagre contents. It was incomprehensible that the Wardens, who should have frontier knowledge about the blight and the calling, seemed rather ignorant about the subject. Instead, they believed most of the Chantry's teachings, that it was divine punishment that created the first of the darkspawn. Teachings that were flawed and drenched with falsehoods. This lack of information would only heighten the fear and anxiety in the affected Wardens. If they would really try to attempt a blood ritual as Loghain feared, they would quickly fall prey to whatever they summoned.

After they left Hawke and Loghain, the others discussed the situation with the Wardens and the calling further. Solas kept to himself, not that any of his companions did seem to mind. That the Wardens were compromised was another problem they had to face. Somehow he could respect the resourcefulness of Corypheus for having infiltrated yet another major organisation of Thedas. By triggering the calling, he had the Wardens in a panic and could be easily manipulated. Solas couldn't comprehend that the Wardens after five Blights and thousands of years still believed that the Blight was a form of divine punishment. It was ludicrous. It was the easy way out to explain something that was far more complex.

With creating the Veil he had done far more than imprisoning his brethren, he had cut off any form of free travel between two realms. He had confined the spirits to the Fade, he had trapped them. The more powerful demons among them would have sought other ways into this world. They reached out to the humans and anyone who would listen, whispering dark secrets and promises of great power. It didn't take long before the first eager servants appeared to please their new masters, performing rituals and sacrifices to strengthen them.

Solas wasn't too sure what exactly had happened when the Veil was ripped open by powerful magic. At that time he was still deep in uthenera, weak from spending almost all of his power. The Chantry's version was in part correct, the magisters attempted to breach the Veil and entered the Fade physically. In their attempt, they most likely came in contact with one of the powerful Void barriers he had created to imprison the Evanuris. When the magisters returned, they brought the maddening darkening plague of the Void with them, the Blight.

More mysterious was the connection between the Blight and the Archdemons. That they were old gods was laughable, Solas had never found any trace of a god. The answer was far more simple, they look like dragons, so they are dragons, powerful Ancient dragons from his time. Like the Elvhen, the dragons of old had a deep connection with the Fade, and like the Elvhen they had fallen victim by his actions. Cut off from their source of power some of them would have fallen into a deep hibernation. What he didn't know was how the dragons were affected by the Blight. It could be possible that the first Archdemon was awakened by the brief reconnection with the Fade and fallen prey to the infective nature of the Void. Unlike the dragons from this age, they were far more powerful and intelligent. The description of the calling and the song blighted creatures heard sounded like the connection the Ancient dragons used to communicate with their brood and offspring. It was possible the blighted creatures sought out the hibernated dragons for guidance and focus. The infected dragons, in turn, would use the power of the blight to reclaim the territories they once controlled.

That the dragons were rising again in this era, was another indication the Veil was weakening. It was a strong possibility that more and more powerful dragons would emerge, and Solas could only hope that they wouldn't be infected. The increase in activity amongst the dragon kind was already felt throughout Thedas. Even in the few places they had visited they had seen these majestic beasts and their brood. The world was trying to regain the balance he had destroyed, and he had to prepare for the chaos that came with it.

“Solas! You're falling behind.” Cassandra called out to him.

“It's the Veil, it is Veil-y here or something.” Sera had to laugh hard at her own joke.

Solas hastened towards the others. “Apologies, Seeker.”

Icy snow blew cold and wet in their faces as they rode up the mountains towards Skyhold. It didn't take long before they were drenched and chilled to the bone. Not wanting to set up another camp Ryan decided not to rest, but ride into the night to reach the fortress. Solas didn't complain, after days on the road he wanted nothing more than to get some rest. Rest from Ryan's short-sighted and docile views of the Chantry and escape from the mindless banter and ridicule of Sera and Blackwall. Ignoring the cold, he steered his horse to follow the rest.

It was way past midnight when they finally rode across the drawbridge. Not lingering Solas shouldered his pack and walked silently through the great hall and up the stairs. It was deserted except for ambassador Josephine and a guest. On the balcony, he paused for a moment when he heard Ryan loudly welcoming the guest. Solas' mood didn't improve when he heard Josephine introduced the guest as a templar and a teacher. Of course, it would be a templar, he thought, what better path to walk for the blessed hero of Andraste. Moody, he marched to his quarters and briskly opened the door.

“Solas!” Surprised Eirlana jumped off her bed. “I didn't expect you would return today.” she quickly took a towel and placed it over his head, brushing off some of the wet sticky snow.

“Welcome back.” she smiled.

Solas stood frozen in his tracks, somewhere during the miserable journey back to Skyhold he had forgotten he had to face her again. Exhausted as he was, he hadn't prepared himself to see her. Eirlana bustled around him, closing the door, taking his pack and coat. She was wearing only a nightgown and a loose overcoat, she had let her hair down, brushed out in shiny waves.

A little stunned Solas looked around their shared room, a lot had changed in the weeks he was gone. Where once stood a single broken chair and field bed the room was now fully furnished. Two beds had been brought in, one in the right corner of the room, one at the far end. Clothing chests stood at the foot ends. To his left and right two small tables and a few bookshelves had been placed against the wall. One was mostly empty, the other was littered with scrolls, papers and books. He recognised several sketches and descriptions of healing herbs as well as formulas of different draughts and tonics. Above the table hung several herbs drying, spreading a pleasant aroma. Several rugs lay on the stone floor.

“I see, you have made some changes.” he smiled lightly and started to remove his drenched clothes. On, what he assumed was his bed, lay several neat piles of folded clothes, as well as a couple of books. He let out a deep and long sigh, before changing into the first shirt and loose leggings he saw.

“If there is something you don't like, we can change it.” Eirlana put a cup of warm spiced wine, she had made earlier, in Solas' hands and directed him towards the other bed. He sat down on the cushions and furs. Eirlana could see how tired he was and didn't press him for further details of his journey. Relieved he was back, she hopped on the bed next to him, covering them both with a big blanket.

Solas closed his eyes for a moment, the warmth of the fire and the wine slowly entering his body. Eirlana was cosying herself against him, he could feel her body soft and warm against him. He took a long deep breath and smelled her scent, a mixture of herbs, magic, flowers and a hint of vanilla soap. The tension he was in slipped away, and he relaxed. It was as if he had come home, something he hadn't felt in a very long time.

With heavy lid eyes, Solas gazed at Eirlana nestled against him, a book in her lap. Setting his cup aside he lay an arm around her. “Thank you.” he kissed her head. “The room looks perfect.” Snuggling more against her, he scanned the page of the book. “What are you reading?”

“Songs of Life. It is a collection of poems not influenced by the Chantry.”

“Sounds forbidden.” he moved his head closer and whispered in her ear. “Read to me.”

She glanced at him briefly, a light blush formed on her cheeks as she began.

“Hold fast to dreams

For if dreams die

Life is a broken-winged bird

That cannot fly.

Hold fast to dreams

For when dreams go

Life is a barren field

Frozen with snow.

Watch the world narrow,

To a field of white,

Nothing to be seen,

But the snow's grip tight,

The colours Fades,

To bleak grey shades,

And the white, white glow,

Of a field of snow.”

Eirlana's voice was soft and bright, sometimes stumbling over the words. Solas relaxed, even more, the warmth and wine taking effect. Gently he buried his nose in her hair, brushing the tip against her ear shell. He felt her shivering from the sensation, and her blush returned in a darker shade. He would never tire of making her blush. “Read another one.” he asked while carefully brushing her hair aside. She didn't wear her choker, and he could see the healed burn-marks usually concealed. With care, he brushed his lips against her ear downward along her now exposed slender neck. Eirlana's breath hitched while she read, tilting her head to the side. Feeling her pleasure, Solas started to kiss and nip her delicate skin more intensely. His hand slipped into her hair, kneading it, his fingers massaging her head. His other arm embraced her waist, pressing their bodies closer together. The soft gasps she made were music to his ears as he continued his journey downward. He stopped and lingered at the sensitive spot at the junction to her collarbone, when he heard her hum in pleasure. He intensified his attention there, placing wet kisses, tracing the curved groove slowly with his tongue and lightly biting into her neck.

Solas surrendered himself, drowning in the feeling of her heating skin against his lips, getting drunk from her scent, her sweet gasps. All his dark thoughts, his frustrations and troubles vanished from his mind. There was only he and her, nothing else seemed important. He was indulging in his growing love for her. His lips wandered back up again, higher and higher. Leaving a tingling wet trail.

“How do you do that?” he whispered, his breath hot against her ear.

Eirlana tried to turn her head towards him. “Do what?” she asked breathlessly.

“Let me feel this way.” his lips nibbling at her sensitive ear tip.

Flustered Eirlana moved her head away, deeply blushing. Her whole body was shivering with every movement Solas made. Goosebumps were spreading everywhere, and she could feel her pulse hammering. The kisses he gave were burning hot and left her skin tingling, wanting more. With every trace of his tongue, her stomach was doing somersaults. Her senses were flooded with his presence, his intimacy. Out of breath, she turned towards him.

Solas seized the moment and captured her lips, moving his body against hers. Almost natural their lips parted, their tongues entwined and they inhaled each other's breaths. Slowly Solas pressed his body against her, tipping her back. His hands began wandering, slipping out of her silky hair, brushing her ears, down her neck and arms. Parting from her lips, he left a trail of wet kisses down her jaw and neck.

Lying on her back, Eirlana felt herself overpowered by the sensation of his loving touch. Hesitantly she reached out to him and flinched slightly when her fingers touched his bare chest. Earlier Solas hadn't bothered to close his shirt neatly, and it had fallen open. She could hear him taking a groaning breath when she touched him before he resumed kissing and nipping her neck more intensely. Slowly moving his tongue against her sensitive spots, forcing a gasp from her lips. Overwhelmed she curled her fingers, lightly scraping over his chests.

Solas moaned, his skin tingling, revelling in the sensation of her touch. He couldn't get enough of her, her warmth, her taste, her soft gasps. Guided by instinct and experience his hands wandered lower, tracing her ribs, stroking her waist.

Eirlana felt confused, things were moving too fast. She didn't know what she should do or how to react. Slowly her anxiety was growing, pushing away the pleasantness of Solas' touch. She felt his body moving, pressing even more against her, trapping her body partially under him. She froze when his hand had wandered down to her thigh and she felt him hardening against her leg.

NO! Stop! NO! Her brain screamed, but her voice didn't react. Flashes of the past invaded her, hands grabbing, hurting, taking. Stinking breaths, groans of pleasure that were not hers. Pain, helplessness, filth, shame. NO! Not longer.

Panicking Eirlana pushed, kicked and shoved him away from her. “NO!”

Solas immediately jumped back, letting go of her. Shocked by the sudden change, he watched her scrabbling away from him until her back hit the wall. Her eyes were big with fear, she was terrified, panting heavily. She cowered together, hugging her knees, burying her face against them. Her hair fell like a curtain around her, concealing her shivering body.

Solas wanted to punch himself, he had gone too far. Not thinking, he had sought out his pleasure like some horny youngster, not paying attention to her needs. He had been too forceful and had pushed her over the edge, violating her vulnerable spirit. Guilt-stricken he carefully moved next to her.

Eirlana could feel him move closer. She felt guilty that she had ruined a special moment. Not looking at him she let out a broken. “I am sorry.”

Choked up Solas gently brushed her hair to the side. “You have nothing to be sorry for vhenan.” there was a slight tremor in his voice. “I shouldn't have pushed you. I am sorry.”

She sniffed, raising her head slowly. Her lips were trembling “Sorry, I know... I know you are not them.” Tears escaped her eyes, rolling down her face.

Solas could feel his heart break. His stomach twisted in anger, he could only imagine the horrors she had endured. He felt powerless and useless. He wished he could help her, heal her, but nothing he could do or say would take her pain away. Filled with sorrow and defeat, he pulled her gently into his arms, hugging her lightly. The only thing he could do was to be there for her.

Slowly Eirlana felt herself calming down. She knew she was safe, safe in Solas' arms. She hated it that her fears had taken over again, it was her fault that she reacted this way, she was to blame. Physical contact was part of being in a relation, it was only natural that Solas would seek it out. Swallowing down her dread she looked hesitantly up, meeting his eyes.

“I.... I will try. I understand you want to...”

Before she could speak any further, he had his fingers pressed against her lips, silencing her. Horror filled his eyes, as he understood what she wanted to say. “Vhenan! Don't.”

She stared at him. With care he moved his fingers to her cheek, stroking it.

“Please don't.” he spoke softly. “It has to be right for both of us. I am sorry I was acting impulsively, please forgive me.” He kissed her forehead, smiling at her with warmth and love. “You already give me so much. I could wish for nothing more, you are perfect just the way you are.”

They embraced each other. Solas could feel Eirlana shuddering in relief. “Thank you.” she whispered. He felt ashamed, he had spent his days in Crestwood thinking only about himself, his feelings, his burden, her impact on his life. It was selfish of him, he hadn't spared a thought for her feelings, her struggles, her trauma, her vulnerability. He buried his face in her hair, holding her. “I am sorry.”

She let his warmth wash over her. She was safe. It was okay. Relieved she sighed. “I missed you.”

He pressed a kiss on her head. “Me too.”

She looked up at him grinning. “You missed yourself?”

Solas had to laugh, relieved she hadn't lost her spark. “Yes, very.”

The fire had died down. Only the glimmering coals and a single candle spread light through the room. Solas lay silently awake, holding Eirlana against his chest in her sleep. He listened to her soft, peaceful breaths, cherishing that he had her at his side again. Carefully not to wake her he buried his nose in her hair, taking in more of her scent, her warmth. All his plans of distancing himself and controlling his emotions and impulses had been swept away as soon as he had laid eyes on her. He knew he couldn't fight it and he didn't want to fight it any longer.

As long as time would permit it, he would be by her side. Closing his eyes, he hoped that for once faith would be kind and that his curse of deception and destruction wouldn't follow her. He hoped and prayed to no one that he would be allowed to protect her. For now, he would treasure every moment spent with her as long as he lived.

Ego hic servire. Dominus. - I am here to serve. Master.be prey.”

“Tsssssss.” Vivienne hissed. It was obvious she was displeased with her answers.

“Thank you for your concern. Have a good evening.” Eirlana stood up and left.

“He will be back you know.” Dorian sat in a comfortable chair in a corner of the library, a book in one hand and swirling a glass of brandy in the other.

“I know.” she gave him a small smile.

“You miss him don't you?”

Eirlana nodded and began to put her book back and started to look for a new one.

“The choice of good reading material is somewhat limited I am afraid.” Dorian stood up and took a book from the shelve, filled with poetry. “I can recommend this one.”

“Thank you.”

A sister walked past them, giving Dorian a dark look before she walked hastily away. Outside wet snow began to whip against the window.

“Just great. Cold, wet, distrusting ungrateful dogpeople.” Dorian started to mutter to himself. “Why did I even bother to come here?”

“Why did you come?” Eirlana asked, curious about his motives.

Dorian regarded her for a moment. “You may find this strange, but I care for my homeland. It may be hard to understand for you southerners.”

She bit her lip looking down at her feet. “I... I am not from the south.”

“Of course you wouldn't....” Dorian broke off his sentence. “You are not? Then where...?”

“Ego hic servire. Dominus.” she whispered, looking hesitant at him.

For a moment Dorian stared at her, shocked. “Oh.”

“I lived in Tevinter almost my whole life.”

“Then you were a...?”

Eirlana nodded looking at her feet again. It was somewhat different to admit she had been a slave to one who knew how Tevinter was really like.

She felled relieved Dorian sounded sincere. “That's why we all are here.”

They felled silent, both not knowing what to say.

“Thank you for the book. I will read it.” Eirlana broke the awkward moment.

“Yes, maybe we can discuss it after you have finished it.” he smiled at her.

“I would like that.” she returned the smile. “Have a good night.”

“Your mind is drifting.”

Solas blinked as he heard the voice of Wisdom next to him. His thoughts had wandered off while listening to her. “I am sorry, friend.”

“Don't be. It gladdens me.”

“Why?” he asked her.

“Your mind is anchored in the present, not longer drifting solely to what once was.” Wisdom waved over the pool, conjuring Eirlana's face in the water. “She is in your thoughts.”

Solas had to swallow. “A small diversion, nothing more.” He knew his growing attachment was making an already difficult situation more complicated. It was a danger to him and his task.

“Why do you lie to yourself?”

He had to smirk Eirlana was really becoming his weakness if his lies were getting this obvious.

“Why?”

Puzzled, Solas looked at his old friend. “Why what?”

“Why is she a weakness? Fighting for others has always made you stronger in the past.”

With a heavy heart, he turned to Wisdom.

“What of the other spirits? Please tell me old friend. What do you see?”

Feeling miserable Solas looked at her. “No.”

“You can always make new ones.”

The whole scene did last only for a few seconds when it froze, and Eirlana turned around. “Solas?”

Solas walked closer. “Vhenan. I apologise, I didn't mean to intrude.”

Solas looked at her curious, raising an eyebrow.

Smiling, Eirlana stepped closer to him. “He wanted to know if he should zap you.”

“Zap me?”

“Yes, sorry. They are a little protective sometimes.”

“It's not like I really understand them, it's more like...” She pondered for a while. “It is hard to describe, it's like I can feel their intent, their thoughts.”

Eirlana looked excited at him. “You really are a dreamer, like the dreamers of the past. To be able to visit me here in my own dreams.”

Eirlana turned back to the room behind her. “That is my little brother and me, and what faint memories I have left of my mother.”

“It is hard to believe isn't it.” she smiled sadly. “The lyrium, experiments and rituals did more than just erase my memories. They changed me.”

The memory began to move again. The little girl sat down in front of the coughing and crying boy; small butterfly-like colourful lights sprang from her fingertips. The boy was calming down and started to smile and laugh again, trying to grab the lights with his tiny hands. There was a crash of a pan, food spilt to the ground as the mother stood in shock.”

“That was one of my first spells I ever cast in the open.” Eirlana's voice sounded detached as she summoned the same butterflies in her hand. “I loved my brother dearly. He was very sick.”

For a while, she felt silent staring at the frozen dream. The butterflies slowly disappeared.

“She sold you?”

“I don't even know if they are still alive or if selling me helped them at all.”

He held her tighter against him. “I am so sorry.” he whispered.

Feeling his own emotions stir Solas squeezed his eyes shut. “I miss you also.” he admitted.

His voice sounded strained. Eirlana turned around in his arms studying his face. “You look tired.”

“I am.” he sighed. “It has been a long day. We encountered spirits in the waking world; they had drifted through a large tear.”

“Really. What did they say? How did they find our world? The Veil must have been very thin or damaged for them to remain their form for so long.”

Solas saw her eyes sparkle with excitement, he had been right. His day would have been very different with her at his side.

Solas wasn't too sure what exactly had happened when the Veil was ripped open by powerful magic. At that time he was still deep in uthenera, weak from spending almost all of his power. The Chantry's version was in part correct, the magisters attempted to breach the Veil and entered the Fade physically. In their attempt, they most likely came in contact with one of the powerful Void barriers he had created to imprison the Evanuris. With their return, they brought the maddening darkening plague of the Void with them, the Blight.

With the dragons rising again in this era, was another indication the Veil was weakening. It was a strong possibility that more and more powerful dragons would emerge, and Solas could only hope that they wouldn't be infected. The increase in activity amongst the dragon kind was already felt throughout Thedas. Even in the few places they had visited they had seen these majestic beasts and their brood. The world was trying to regain the balance he had destroyed, and he had to prepare for the chaos that came with it.

“Solas! You're falling behind.” Cassandra called out to him.

“It's the Veil, it is Veil-y here or something.” Sera had to laugh hard at her own joke.

Solas hastened towards the others. “Apologies, Seeker.”

It was way past midnight when they finally rode across the drawbridge. Not lingering Solas shouldered his pack and walked silently through the great hall and up the stairs. It was deserted except for ambassador Josephine and a guest. On the balcony, he paused for a moment when he heard Ryan loudly welcoming the guest. Solas' mood didn't improve when he heard Josephine introduced the guest as a templar and a teacher. Of course, it would be a templar, what better path to walk for the blessed hero of Andraste. Moody, he marched to his quarters and briskly opened the door.

“Solas!” Surprised Eirlana jumped off her bed. “I didn't expect you would return today.” she quickly took a towel and placed it over his head, brushing off some of the wet sticky snow.

“Welcome back.” she smiled.

Solas stood frozen in his tracks, somewhere during the miserable journey back to Skyhold he had forgotten he had to face her again. He hadn't prepared himself to see her exhausted as he was. Eirlana bustled around him, closing the door, taking his pack and coat. She was wearing only a nightgown and a loose overcoat, she had let her hair down, brushed out in shiny waves.

“If there is something you don't like, we can change it.” Eirlana put a cup of warm spiced wine, she had made earlier, in Solas' hands after he had changed and directed him towards the other bed. He sat down on the cushions and furs.

Eirlana could see how tired he was and didn't press him for further details of his journey. Relieved he was back, she hopped on the bed next to him, covering them both with a big blanket.

Solas closed his eyes for a moment, with the warmth of the fire and the wine slowly entering his body. Eirlana was cosying herself against him, he could feel her body soft and warm against him. He took a long deep breath and smelled her scent, a mixture of herbs, magic, flowers and a hint of vanilla soap. The tension he was in slipped away, and he relaxed. It was as if he had come home, something he hadn't felt in a very long time.

“Songs of Life. It is a collection of poems not influenced by the Chantry.”

“Sounds forbidden.” he moved his head closer and whispered in her ear. “Read to me.”

She glanced at him briefly, a light blush formed on her cheeks as she began.

“Hold fast to dreams

For if dreams die

Life is a broken-winged bird

That cannot fly.

Hold fast to dreams

For when dreams go

Life is a barren field

Frozen with snow.

Watch the world narrow,

To a field of white,

Nothing to be seen,

But the snow's grip tight,

The colours Fades,

To bleak grey shades,

And the white, white glow,

Of a field of snow.”

“How do you do that?” he whispered, his breath hot against her ear.

Eirlana tried to turn her head towards him. “Do what?” she asked breathlessly.

“Let me feel this way.” his lips nibbling at her sensitive ear tip.

Solas seised the moment and captured her lips, moving his body against hers. Almost natural their lips parted, their tongues entwined and they inhaled each other's breaths. Slowly Solas pressed his body against her, tipping her back. His hands began wandering, slipping out of her silky hair, brushing her ears, down her neck and arms. Parting from her lips, he left a trail of wet kisses down her jaw and neck.

Panicking Eirlana pushed, kicked and shoved him away from her. “NO!”

Solas wanted to punch himself, he had gone too far. Not thinking, he had sought out his pleasure like some horny teenager, not paying attention to her needs. He had been too forceful and had pushed her over the edge, violating her vulnerable spirit. Guilt-stricken he carefully moved next to her.

Eirlana could feel him move closer. She felt guilty that she had ruined a special moment. Not looking at him she let out a broken. “I am sorry.”

Choked up Solas gently brushed her hair to the side. “You have nothing to be sorry for vhenan.” there was a slight tremor in his voice. “I shouldn't have pushed you. I am sorry.”

She sniffed, raising her head slowly. Her lips were trembling “Sorry, I know... I know you are not them.” Tears escaped her eyes, rolling down her face.

“I.... I will try. I understand you want to...”

Before she could speak any further, he had his fingers pressed against her lips, silencing her. Horror filled his eyes, as he understood what she wanted to say. “Vhenan! Don't.”

She stared at him. With care he moved his fingers to her cheek, stroking it.

She let his warmth wash over her. She was safe. It was okay. Relieved she sighed. “I missed you.”

He pressed a kiss on her head. “Me too.”

She looked up at him grinning. “You missed yourself?”

Solas had to laugh, relieved she hadn't lost her spark. “Yes, very.”

Ego hic servire. Dominus. - I am here to serve. Master.

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dragon age solas #Solas #solas romance #solas x oc #eirlana #flame of winter #fanfic

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