#He very clearly recognizes and responds to several words and commands

[teaboot]

Ollie is a very intelligent cat but also very dumb and spoiled so while I have not yet been able to teach him “no biting” or “stay off the stove and counter” I HAVE been able to teach him “Gentle bites only”, “Stove is hot right now”, and “Danger”, which is to say I am still getting bit and have cat ass on everything but it is less dangerous than it could be.

I am uncertain as a cat owner if this counts as a success

[sparkflower-fields]

Megatron knew as soon as Soundwave’s fans kicked on and his posture shifted ever so slightly, he was about to attack. He recognized very clearly what Soundwave looked like when he was about to tear into someone, and that was definitely the look. Despite his processor predicting the swing, his frame didn’t respond fast enough. The punch connected to his jaw with a crack that slammed his dentae together and sent him reeling backward, forcing him to take a step back to catch himself. A hot flash of anger spiked through him for a moment, but he stifled it down immediately. He didn’t want his old gladiator coding kicking in, though he supposed it would be the safest to happen here of all places. He more so didn’t want to unleash it on Soundwave.

The next swing he barely dodged, Soundwave’s clenched servo scraping past his cheek plating. He had to think fast if he was going to avoid getting pummeled by his ex-third in command. Before Soundwave’s next move he yelled out to the simulator AI:

“ACTIVATE MEGATRON_PRESET_04, TARGET DESIGNATION: ‘SOUNDWAVE,’ MAX DIFFICULTY.”

Once the words exited his vox the simulator lights shut off ominously, and slowly, several terrifying visages of Megatron rose from the floor of the Simulator, the holograms coded in red light. They all looked enraged and full of blood lust, a not entirely inaccurate depiction of what he used to look like on the battlefield. That was what they thought of Megatron. A blood thirsty killing machine with only rage in his spark.

The preset was for more advanced Autobots to train against an AI version of himself. For obvious reasons they stopped using it, but they never removed the code. The difficulty he set it on would spawn five entities, instead of one, and turned off the lights so any randomized terrain was harder to see.

Taking the minuscule opportunity to reset and back up from Soundwave, Megatron took on a better defensive position, allowing the AI to attack for him. It wasn’t his ideal move, but being so close to Soundwave and suspecting what the ex-TIC was there for, he couldn’t allow the other to gain the upper hand.

He couldn’t allow himself to fight Soundwave the way he knew the other wanted. He couldn’t allow Soundwave to push his buttons the way he knew he could. Not here anyway. Fighting was one thing, but the risk of getting caught grew the longer they remained in the simulator. So, he taunted.

“Catch me if you can! Use your cassettes if you lose me, Sweetspark~” Soundwave could hear the smirk on his lips as his voice echoed in the dark. Then, rapid, heavy footsteps could be heard as Megatron booked it out the back exit of the simulator. He dodged and weaved down the halls of the Ghost base, before finding his way out the service entrance for trucks and mechs, heading to the one place he knew no one would be to get caught in the crossfire, and no humans would see Soundwave.

As soon as Megatron made it outside he transformed and pushed his engines to max speed, heading straight for the place where they first reunited into this sordid affair. The Quarry.

The training hall was usually off limits after hours, but Megatron hardly cared to follow that ridiculous rule. He much preferred to spar with the AI on his own without worry of interruption from anyone else. Cybertronians and humans alike. The silence of the base was comforting without the busy movements of the other members and the drone of chatter and computers. Just an empty base he could let loose and be himself in.

He strode down the hall towards the simulator, confidence in each step, his stature imposing even when he was alone. Or at least he thought he was alone. He typed the access code into the simulator security panel and entered as the huge doors hissed and parted. And then they closed behind him, once he was inside.

Stepping in to the familiar stark grey of the simulator, he took a deep vent and closed his optics. He had many frustrations he wanted to work out and he could hardly wait to do so on the AI. He evenly stepped over to the simulator control panel and rapidly typed in a code; his own custom simulator level. One much harder than any preset it had. And as soon as he activated it, he got into position.

Instead of just normal, human sized enemies, there were several cybertronians, his size. He rolled his shoulder struts and charged, spinning to dodge a blow from the AI’s fist, and cracking his own into the side of its helm. “Enemy eliminated.” Echoed the smooth voice of the AI. And over the next several hours, that’s what Megatron did. Cracked the helms of AI until he had defeated more than his previous high score. 201.

By the time he finished, he was worn out, venting heavily with an open intake, coolant dripping down his plating. His knuckles ached and his joints burned. But he felt alive. He felt better.

[dracowars]

sacrifice | anakin skywalker

pairing: anakin x jedi!reader

word count: 4,1k

summary: where y/n has to sacrifice everything in order to save anakin

a/n: i'm so proud of this, i hope you enjoy reading it <3 also i really want to write more for anakin (& other male sw characters), so feel free to send in requests!! ♡

warnings: angst, torture, violence, mentions of severe injuries

universe: star wars

Exhausted and plagued by a painful sting pulling through your whole body, you slowly flutter your eyes open which turns out to be difficult at first due to the bright light. Your limbs feel sore and incredibly weak, you can hardly feel your arms anymore and an uncomfortable tingling sensation runs through your legs. Your head is extremely heavy and the world around you rotates, getting faster in each second that passes and thus disenables your ability to think clearly.

Still blinded by the light, you narrow your eyes to at least be able to see something and as you do, your breath gets stuck in your lungs right away. Your gaze is directed at a black steel door with red and white switches and lights flashing on the right and on the left. A steel door which most likely allows no escape.

"Sir. The Jedi is conscious again", you hear the mechanical voice of a droid and you turn your head in its direction to your right. You see two Battle Droids next to you, one of them now aiming his weapon at you alarmed, the other standing at a control field.

Only now do you notice that you are much taller than these droids and you quickly discover why. Surround by a bluish light, you float in the air, your wrists and ankles chained in stuncuffs, making you unable to move even a tiny bit. You helplessly hang in the air, the tight handcuffs already painfully straining your skin.

"Do not let her out of your sight until I get there", you suddenly hear another voice through the comlink one of the droids is holding. A voice that unmistakably belongs to none other than the Supreme Commander of the Separatist Droid Army General Grievous himself.

However, there was something else in the background. Something that made your breath get stuck in your throat again.

Screams. Full of pain and suffer that can only be produced by incredible agony.

"Where should she even go?", one of the droids asks annoyed and gets hit on the back of his head by the other after his statement immediately.

"Don't ask, work."

Not saying a word, you try to shake your hands to maybe loosen the handcuffs a little, but to no avail.

"No chance, lady. You will not get out of here that easily", the Battle Droid laughs while the other joins in. Throwing them an angry look, they quickly stop and get back to their work, ignoring you.

Using the moment of silence to your advantage, you close your eyes and try to feel the Force that surrounds you so that it can guide you the way. Because of your severe headache you do not succeed, but you also do not give up instantly and at least try to concentrate enough to remember what exactly happened.

The terrifying image of a battlefield on Ryloth appears in your head, droids and clones brutally fighting each other. With your ignited lightsaber you run between them, giving the clones cover while taking down several Battle Droids and Droidekas with one slash of your elegant weapon.

"General Y/L/N! General Skywalker has just informed us that he has advanced further at the front and has almost reached Grievous", you hear Fives tell you in your blurred memories when you hide behind a tree to seek protection for the split of a second.

"Anakin", you softly breathe, not noticing that you said his name out loud, and your eyes shoot open when your memory cuts off all of a sudden.

All you remember is that you followed him after Fives' words, but you do not remember what happened after that and you do not know where Anakin is now or if he was even captured as well.

In any case, you are not allowed to think about it any further when the door in front of you opens and you are greeted with the shadow of a large robotic figure, two Magna Guards on either side of him.

"Grievous", you hiss disapprovingly when he comes up to you with slow, heavy steps, his face - if you can even call it that - at eye level with you. "I sould have guessed that only you would be able to carry out such primitive captures."

His smoky laugh sounds at your words, which is quickly interrupted by a subsequent cough. In the next second, however, he tightly grabs your neck with his mechanical hand all of a sudden and forces you to look into his fleshy eyes. The pressure on your throat causes tears to well up in your eyes.

"You have a very important piece of information that Count Dooku would love to have, General Y/L/N", he mentions and you try to hide that he is currently blocking your windpipe. "All methods are fine with me as long as I get what I want."

"And I suppose you will only let me go if I tell you this very important piece of information?", you state ironically and take a quick breath in as he releases his strong grip from you.

"That would make things much easier for both of us", Grievous agrees and looks at you intensely, almost expectantly. "Where do the Jedi keep the holocrons?"

"What do you want to do with it? Even if I told you, which I will definitely not do by the way, you could not open it anyway", you mockingly point out and raise an eyebrow.

A second later, you have to fight for air again.

"That is something you should not worry about", he aggressively snaps at you and squeezes his hand harder, making you gasp for air even more. "Tell me where they are kept."

"You could kill me and I would not tell you", you choke out and his creepy-looking eyes sparkle with anger.

"I will let it depend on that", Grievous states and lets go of you again, but with a subtle gesture he gives his Magna Guards a sign and they suddenly approach you, their dangerous electrostaffs now activated.

Shortly afterwards you already feel an incredibly terrible pain that makes you cry out loud. A painful electricity shoots through your entire body that would force you onto your knees if you were not currently chained to stuncuffs in the air. It only takes a few seconds, but it feels much longer until they stop their torture, staying in their position.

"Where. Are. The. Holocrons?", Grievous asks you again, this time more angry and somehow stressed, putting strong emphasis on each word.

"You would like to know, huh", you slightly grin and although you know that such a cheeky answer will cause you to suffer again, it rolls of your tongue anyway.

Again, several electric shocks run through you at the same time and an increasingly unbearable pain forms in your body, but your head remains unwavering when they stop again.

"Tell me where they are, Jedi scum! Now!", the merciless General shouts at you and you can sense how he is getting more and more impatient by each second. He will not stop torturing you until you tell him what he wants to know and until you stop holding it back, but you have sworn a vow to the Jedi Order that you can't and will not break, no matter how much pain you have to endure.

"I guess you have to kill me then, because I will never tell you, Grievous", you respond breathless and you can already smell how your skin, your flesh, has slightly charred because of the burns.

Giving his Magna Guards another command with a simple hand gesture, they continue to torture you, but this time they only shock you briefly with their bright purple electrostaffs before stopping abruptly. Your muscles still tremble from the impact and the unbearable ache persists.

"Uhm, Sir. I hate to interrupt you, but the other Jedi just managed to take down one of the droids", one of the droids next to you reports and you, although you only understood half of what he just said, too weak to focus, you immediately know who he must be talking about.

General Grievous must have already tried to squeeze something out of him, that is why you heard screams earlier.

"Anakin", you groan in pain as the Magna Guards go back to their task of torturing you out of nowhere and put you into a state of absolute pain.

"Interesting", you hear Grievous utter through your own screams as your body writhes in pain in the air, the handcuffs pressing deep into your skin. Until the pain suddenly fades and you fall to the hard ground in front of his feet the next moment when the droid freed you with the push of a button.

"Sir, is that not too risky?", one of the droids ask, but you can't even get up from the floor by yourself because you have been weakened so much by the electric shocks. You are not even sure anymore whether you might even have passed out at this point.

However, you quickly realize that you, in fact, are still conscious when you are roughly pulled to your feet, a firm grip on both your upper arms as the Magna Guards pull you up.

"She is so weak, she can hardly walk. And without her lightsaber she can't do much anyway. It was a fine addition to my collection", Grievous laughs in your ear devilishly, and a lateral push in your ribs makes you realize that you should move forward. Having no other choice, you obey and stumble forward on shaky legs, losing your balance with almost every step due to the fact that your hands are still tied together with stuncuffs.

Losing any sense of orientation, you get pushed forward right behind General Grievous, your vision blurred and your head continuing to spin until you finally come to a stop in a corridor that is no different from the previous one.

The door to another cell opens, at least you recognize the same sound as your cell door did before, and you are suddenly rudely pushed inside after Grievous has entered, meeting the hard and cold surface of the floor.

Trying your best to get up again, you notice that their dangerous weapons are no longer close to your body. Yet, you are prevented from doing anything at the sight in front of you after you managed to lift yourself up from the ground a little bit with your hands and looked up.

"Anakin!", you exhale in shock when you see your almost lifeless husband floating in front of you, the same handcuffs on him as on you, stunning him.

He immediately stirs when he hears your voice and lifts his head up, only to discover your trembling figure lying on the ground in front of him.

"What did you do to him?", you shout at Grievous with all your might and manage to fully get up due to the sudden adrenaline rush, but soon are shoved back onto the ground by Grievous and the Magna Guards pull you into a kneeling position by your arms.

"The same I did to you", General Grievous explains with a laugh and trudges back and forth between you and Anakin. "Verily, the will of a Jedi is strong, but I have already cracked the toughest will."

Admiring himself, his gaze slides on you and you immediately avoid the contact, looking at the ground.

"If you touch her even once, I swear you are already dead", Anakin angrily snaps at him, but Grievous does not even react to it, not even when Anakin manages to throw one of the Battle Droids against the wall in his anger with the tiniest movement. Grievous just stops in front of you and roughly lifts your chin up, indeed touching you.

"How many more electric shocks will she endure before her will breaks, what do you think?", Grievous asks into the room and you remove your chin from his grasp with all your leftover strength.

"J-Just leave her alone", Anakin mutters weakly and briefly looks at Grievous with a hateful expression before his muscles give up again and his head sinks down again in exhaustion.

"Tell me where the holocrons are and I will let her go", Grievous declares and turns to your husband, who is about to pass out.

"No! Don't listen to him, Anakin!", you interrupt him right away and try to, although you know that it will not be possible, to loosen your bonds, but the Magna Guards are quick to hold their electrostaffs threathingly close to your body again. "N-No matter what he does to me, you must not tell him- ouch!"

Feeling the burning imprint of the metal back of Grievous hand on your now throbbing cheek, the impact throws you to the ground and tears shoot into your eyes because of the sting, but you suppress them quickly.

"Well, if you do not want to talk, I know who will", Grievous threatens and you press your eyes shut in defeat to mentally prepare yourself for the torturing pain.

A pain that does not come.

At least not in the way you expected, because all of a sudden you hear something that is probably much worse for you than thousands of electrical particles shooting through your body.

They are shooting through Anakin right now.

Excruciating screams escape his throat and you have to watch how he is tortured, how his body winds in pain, how he slowly breaks apart.

You both expected that he would attack you.

"NO! Stop!", you yell at them and desperately shake at your bonds, tears flowing down your cheeks at the sight of the love of your life being hurt in front of your own eyes.

"Y/N-"

"Please stop! You will kill him!", you screech over his screams, but Grievous does not let his Magna Guards stop, rather he induces them to continue.

"Don't, Y/N. Do not tell- argh!", Anakin tries to tell you, but is interrupted by his pain and you can clearly feel how he is getting weaker by every second and how his strength and will are leaving him more and more.

With every further shock that electrifies his body and puts his muscles out of action, he groans in unbearable pain while thin billows of smoke are already emanating from his upper body. The skin on his neck and hands is reddish, a sign of an already severe burn. Yet the worst are still his inevitable screams that are fully soaked in suffer.

"The Jedi Archives!", you shout out loud while your tears keep streaming down your face, a feeling of guilt building up inside of you for just having betrayed the whole Jedi Order.

But you have no other choice.

"T-They are in the Jedi Archives!", you stutter out and General Grievous finally brings the torture to an end, but Anakin's body is now just lifelessly floating in the air.

"Well, that was not that hard, was it?", Grievous says, amused, and turns around to step out of the cell, his Magna Guards close behind him, leaving you alone. Before the door closes, however, one of the droids presses a button on the outside of the door, causing Anakin to fall to the ground with a loud thud.

"Anakin!", you cry out and quickly crawl over to him, his body still trembling as a result of the numerous shocks when you turn him on his back to get a better view of him and as soon as you touched him, you shortly get electrocuted as well.

"Do you hear me, Anakin? Please, please don't do this to me. Open your eyes!", you basically yell at him in his passed out condition and very carefully place your hands on each of his cheekbones, caressing them tenderly.

Lowering your head after he shows no reaction, your heavy sobs rock through your body and you whimper quietly, gasping for breath over and over again.

"I am so sorry", you sniff sadly and wipe your tears away with your hands, which are still tied together, before gently placing them back on his burning hot upper body.

"Y-You should not have- Should not have t-told him", Anakin utters all of a sudden and his eyes flutter open a tiny bit, weakness and pain covering his handsome face.

"W-What should I have done instead?", you desperately ask and can't help but feel a little bit relieved that he is able to talk to you despite his bad condition and despite the terrible torture method he just went through.

Seeking support and security, you grab his hands and he gently squeezes yours, trying to reassure you that he will be fine.

"That is- That is w-why it is forbidden- ugh forbidden for us to love and- and-", he groans as he tries to sit up, but he is too weak and even with your help, you do not manage to get him up so you gently lay him down again, his head in your lap.

"A-And to make us dependent on some- argh, damn! Someone", Anakin finishes his sentence anyway and if you did not know better, you could have sworn to see a small smirk scurry over his chapped lips.

"Ani, I betrayed the Council", you supress your crying and brush his brown locks out of his face while looking down at him with affection. "They are going to exclude me from the Jedi Order.."

"What are y-you even talking about? You s-saved me, babe. I will not let that happen", he hisses in pain, the last words nearly inaudible as his eyes slowly close again, his body becoming limp.

"We will not let that happen either", another voice suddenly speaks up and you look up startled, only to see Ahsoka standing in the hallway in front of your now opened cell.

"Ahsoka?", you mutter under your breath in disbelief and widen your eyes as she steps into the cell, not sure how much of your conversation she was able to hear. After all, nobody knows that you and Anakin are a thing, let alone married.

"Master!", Ahsoka breathes in shock and falls onto her knees next to you as she speechlessly takes in Anakin's fragile figure.

"I- They have-"

"It's okay, Y/N. Take it easy, slow breaths, in and out. We will get you out of here in no time", she affirms and gives you a gentle, encouraging smile before she quickly severes your and Anakin's cuffs with her green lightsaber. "Obi-Wan is chasing after Grievous and Captain Rex-"

"Master Tano, I found the lightsabers and am now on my way to the prison wing", Rex's voice interrupts Ahsoka through the comlink.

"Can you walk on your own?", she asks you concerned and helps you on your shaky legs, even though you nodded.

"I knew- I knew you would come, Snips", Anakin coughs out of nowhere, and you are not sure whether he is conscious or if the Force just allows him to feel what is happening around him right now.

"You always have to be bailed out, Skyguy", Ahsoka chuckles and at this moment Rex enters the cell with more clones, immediately handing you back your lightsaber, which you attach to your belt.

"Rex, please help me out over here", Ahsoka asks him and together they lift Anakin up from the ground and carry him out. Following them into the corridor in front of the cell, Fives quickly meets you and puts your arm around his shoulder to help you walk until you arrive in the hangar and get onto the Twilight.

They place Anakin in one of the small cabins and you let Fives guide you there as well. You sit down in front of your husband and do not let him out of your sight.

Holding back the sad and re-emerging tears that come up while looking at his distorted, unconsicous body, you bite down on your lower lip to prevent you from crying and take his rough flesh hand in your own. You gently stroke over the back of his hand with your thumb while the clone trooper medic puts an oxygen mask over his face.

It does not take long for Obi-Wan to join you in boarding the ship and as he does, he straightly goes to you when they start the Twilight and fly out of the hangar and into the vastness of space. When you feel his hand on your shoulder, you flinch.

"Sorry. How is he?", Obi-Wan asks you with great concern in his voice and face. After all, Anakin is like a son to him.

"The clone trooper medic said that he suffered severe burns and bruises, but apparently no permanent serious or consequential damage. Nevertheless, he urgently needs professional treatment when we arrive on the Negotiator", you sob and inconspicuously remove your hand from Anakin's to not let Obi-Wan see. "I have to- uhm I have to tell you something, Obi-Wan."

"I know. But better keep it to yourself a little bit longer for now until we report to the Council together, alright? Then you only have to tell it once", Obi-Wan calms you down and gives you warm smile.

"Thank you, master", you lower your head and turn your gaze back to Anakin, whose chest moves up and down regularly and whose breath is sounding through the room.

"Don't worry, Y/N. You did what everyone would have done and I am very grateful that you did so. We all have to make sacrifices at some point", he assures you before carefully patting your shoulder one more time and leaving the room, leaving you alone with Anakin again.

After you have finally arrived on the Negotiator, you do not leave Anakin's side when a few clones bring him to the medical bay, where the meddroids take professional care of him right away. While they are treating him, you wait outside, your body full of tension while nervously tapping the floor with your foot and playing with your fingers. They checked up on you as well, but because you were only briefly subjected to torture it only took them a few minutes to treat your wounds.

When the door finally opens automatically, you look up with hope in your eyes and stare at the medical droid expectantly.

"He is stable. You can see him now", the droid announces and guides you inside. At the sight that greets you, your heart stops beating for a moment.

There your husband lies, with cables connected to all the beeping machines, his eyes closed and his breathing light and regular. You unconsciously quicken your pace in order to get to his side faster. As soon as you stand next to him and neither say anything nor touch him, Anakin immediately opens his eyes as he senses you through the Force.

"Hi, beautiful", he weakly smiles at you and grabs your hand, causing you to directly surround his with your own, looking at him with worry, the load suddenly falling off your shoulders all at once.

"I was so worried about you. How are you?", you openly admit and gently run one of your hands through his messy but soft hair.

"You should not have done that, you know?", he clears his throat, ignoring your question as he feels the conflict within you, a serious expression while staring in your eyes. "I mean saving me. You have put yourself in danger. If something had happened to you.."

Tears well up in your eyes as you unintentionally review the recent events in your head, taking Anakin's words to heart, but you quickly catch yourself again.

"Anak-", you want to answer, but abruptly get interrupted when he pulls you into his strong arms out of nowhere, hugging you tightly like his life depends on it.

"Thank you for saving me, love", he softly whispers into your ear and you smile into the crook of his neck before he guides your face with his hand on your jaw right in front of his own. His blue eyes scan your face and then switch between your eyes and lips until he gently places his hand on the back of your head and leads you into a tender kiss.

Feeling his lips against yours suddenly feels so surreal to you. After everything that happened, you almost did not believe that it could still end, well, like this.

Leaning more into the kiss, he eventually breaks the kiss, just to place one gently between your eyebrows. His thumb softly runs over your cheek as he gives you a warm smile.

"I love you."

"I love you more. And I would always sacrifice everything for you", you return his smile and connect your lips again, feeling like nobody can harm you anymore.

[yandere-society]

The Devil in the ICU

Pairing:

Synopsis: You’ve rarely spoken to your neighbor Jimin, but he’s always been kind to you. When you get into an accident that lands you in the ER, you’re grateful to see who’s taking such good care of you. It isn’t until later that you start to wonder… will you ever be leaving the hospital?

Word Count: 6.6k

Warnings: Blood, murder/death, yandere themes, stalking themes, needles/IVs

Admin: @psycho-slytherin​

Request:

How did you wind up here? 

As you slump back into your bed, with him lying on the floor next to you, a hazy thought informs you that it must look like a scene straight out of Romeo and Juliet.

Although, you think ruefully, glancing down at the sharp shard of glass clenched in your fist, I don’t think Juliet would have done this.

“Merry fucking Christmas.”

~Three weeks earlier~

Taehyung, leaning against the doorframe with a steaming mug of coffee in his hand, looks as handsome as the day you married him. “Have a good day at work!”

You give him a quick kiss, shivering in the brisk morning air. “You too. Remember that we have that dinner tonight!”

Tae laughs. “Is that what we’re calling the awards ceremony? You know you’ve earned bragging rights.”

“Shush!” You boop him on the nose before turning and making for your car. On the other side of the fence, you can see your neighbor Jimin step out onto his porch. He catches your eye and, as Taehyung goes back inside, you smile amicably and nod at Jimin before getting into your car. You see him at his front door every morning, and he’s always friendly.

On your drive to the university campus, you think about tonight’s dinner. You’ll be presented with an awards for Arts Education despite being one of the youngest professors in the university’s faculty. You were thrilled when the dean of the school contacted you for the honor.

Once you park, you speedwalk to your first class of the day and burst through the door. You soon find yourself looking at twenty students, some bright-eyed, some more zombie-like.

“I’d apologize for being late,” you say, “But at this point I don’t think anyone is surprised.” The more awake students laugh, and you sling your bag onto your desk at the front of the room. “Let’s get started. Yoongi, you’re up first for workshop. Why don’t you stand up and read?”

Of all of your students, you think Yoongi is the most likely to pursue his career in creative writing. 

He nods and stands. You can see his hands trembling as he clutches the paper. 

When he sits back down after reading his poem, there’s a smattering of applause. “Very nice,” you say. “Now, who’d like to offer their feedback?”

~~~

Hours later, you dismiss your last class. You can’t wait to go home and tell Taehyung all about your day.

“So this one kid really decided the best move, instead of asking for an extension, was to plagiarize Twilight. Fucking Twilight!” 

Taehyung laughs as he buttons up his shirt. “What did you tell her?”

“Ugh, I hate to report anyone for plagiarism, I told her to write something new and turn it in for half credit.”

“No wonder your students love you. I think you’re personally responsible for all of the creative writing majors on campus.”

You finish zipping up your dress. “Probably. Let’s get going, yeah?” 

“Your wish, my command,” Taehyung says, gallantly bowing you out the door. You giggle as he opens the passenger side door for you. “For real, Y/n, want to get away for a weekend to celebrate? This is a nationally recognized award!”

“Hm…” you pretend to think. “Maybe we could go somewhere warm and sunny, with lots of beaches.”

Taehyung interlaces his fingers with yours, lifts your hand to his mouth, and kisses your palm. “Whatever you want. Christmas is coming up, maybe we can travel somewhere for the winter.”

You smile and look out of the window as Taehyung begins the drive. The ceremony is being held at a hotel twenty minutes away. And in a few weeks, you’ll be spending Christmas with the love of your life somewhere warm.

Under the twinkling night sky, everything feels so peaceful. Suddenly, you see a flash of light overhead. “Tae! A shooting star! Look-”

BANG. You hear the sound of crunching metal, feel a violent jerk, and everything goes dark.

~~~

“When she wakes up, start her on 20 milligrams of morphine. If her blood pressure is still low, go ahead and add saline to the IV. She shouldn’t need a transfusion unless anything opens up again.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

Doctor. Are you in the hospital, then? Was there an accident? “Ugh…” You blink hard in the blinding light. You’re woozy, and your mouth tastes like copper.

“Y/n! Doctor, she’s awake!” You hear a familiar voice, and feel a hand grip your own.

“M-Mom?”

“Y/n. Thank heavens, you’re awake.” Your mom’s voice is strained and thick, as though she’s been crying. When your eyes finally focus on her, she’s sniffling, and her eyes are bloodshot. She’s wearing a formal black dress – did she come straight from the ceremony?

“What happened?” You croak.

“You were in an accident,” your mom says, her voice breaking. “A bad one. We weren’t sure if you would make it.”

You wince. That doesn’t make sense, and the cost of a hospital stay isn’t in your budget. “Where’s Taehyung?” 

Your mother is silent for a moment too long, and you feel your chest grow tight. “Mom, where is Taehyung? He was in the car with me!”

“He… he didn’t make it. I’m so sorry,” your mom whispers. “The doctors did everything they could.”

No. “You’re lying.” Of course she is, she has to be, he’s your husband, he can’t be gone. “Don’t lie. He’s fine.” 

“Y/n, baby…” 

“No!” You weakly pull your hand from her grip. Angry tears form and begin to spill down your swollen, tender cheeks. “You’re lying!” Please, you beg inside your head, please be lying. Not Taehyung. He’s healthy, strong, smart, he has to be fine. 

You can see unshed tears shining in your mother’s eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“We weren’t going that fast,” you say desperately. “It can’t have been bad.”

“You broke a leg and a rib, fractured your collarbone, and punctured your lung,” Your mother says quietly. “They said you were lucky to have no brain damage.”

You sit back, stunned. It’s true, you’re wrapped in bandages and the parts of your skin that you can see are black and blue. When you lift the blanket, you can see a small clear tube protruding from your chest. Still, it’s impossible. You had only been driving for a few minutes. “What happened? The accident?”

“I-It was a hit-and-run,” your mother responds shakily. “They T-boned your car and drove away. There were witnesses, but no cameras and nobody got a license plate. They put out a notice for the car.”

You swallow. Despite your injuries, it seems like you’re unable to feel anything at all. Please, no… 

There’s a soft knock at the door. “Y/n?” You look up and through the dark fog in your head you feel a tinge of shock.

Standing in front of you, wearing blue scrubs and a mask, is… your neighbor.

“Jimin?”

Jimin nods. “I’m sorry for what you’re going through. I just need to adjust your IV – are you in pain?”

“No- yes.” As soon as the word escapes your mouth, feeling spills back into your body. Fuck. Suddenly you can’t breathe, your chest feels like it’s on fire, and your leg… “It hurts really badly.”

“Let me increase the morphine dosage.” He steps towards the machines and IV to which you’re hooked up and fiddles with some buttons.

Your heart feels as though it’s stopped on Taehyung. You refuse to believe it, and so you refuse to grieve. “I didn’t know you were a doctor,” you say to Jimin. Your voice sounds like a robotic copy of itself. Out of the corner of your eye, you see your mother glancing at you with worry.

“I’m not, I’m a nurse,” he replies. 

“You take good care of her, you hear?” Your mom says to Jimin, clearly understanding your silent signal not to bring up Taehyung. She was lying – he has to be fine.

Jimin nods firmly, the ghost of a smile on his face. “Yes, ma’am. She’ll be up and about soon, but for now she needs rest.”

As your mom rises slowly from her chair beside your bed, she grasps Jimin’s hand in hers. “Make sure she’s okay.”

“I will.”

Once your mom leaves, your eyelids feel heavy. Your brain is foggy with distorted thoughts of Taehyung. Why can’t you remember anything? “What time is it?”

“Three in the morning,” Jimin supplies.

That surprises you. “It’s been hours.” 

“It has.” “Do you know what happened to the awards ceremony?”

“The… what?”

Of course he doesn’t. Why should he? You sink as far as you can into your pillow, wishing only that it would suffocate you. It feels like there’s an all-consuming black hole in your chest, clawing at every part of you. Taehyung. Taehyung. Taehyung.

“I’m sorry about your husband,” Jimin says gravely. “I met him several times. He was a very kind man.”

“He’s not gone,” you reply stubbornly. He can’t be. “I just need to get better and get home.” Tae will be there.

Jimin pauses. “We’ll do our best.”

“Thank you.”

“The doctor will be back in soon,” Jimin adds. “I can give you something to help you sleep after.”

“Oh, you’re an angel.” After everything that’s happened, you don’t think you can ever sleep again. At least, not until you’re with Taehyung. Surely, the doctor will be able to tell you the truth. 

The doctor comes in, a middle-aged Black woman who introduces herself as Dr. Greene. She walks you through your injuries and the path to recovery. “Luckily, they could have been a lot worse,” she says, eyeing your chart appreciatively. “You should be discharged in two weeks, give or take. After that, it’ll be a while still with your leg in a cast. You’ll have to come back for more check-ups. And as soon as your lung heals, we want you to start physical therapy to counteract all the bed rest. Do you have any questions for me?”

“Where is my husband?” You ask desperately. Behind Dr. Greene, you see Jimin’s face has turned stony. “He was in the car with me, his name is Kim Taehyung–”

“Your husband has passed away,” the doctor says simply, quietly. “I’m sorry.”

At last, with this authority figure having sealed his fate, you allow yourself to cry for Taehyung. Loud, animalistic sobs tear from your chest until your abused ribs and lungs can’t support you anymore and you collapse, screaming silently into hands that hurt to lift. 

“Y/n…”

“It’s not fair. It’s not fair! It should have been me.” The two of you were only on your way to the dinner because of you. It’s your fault. Your fault. Your fault. “It should have been me!”

You feel fingertips lightly touch your aching shoulder. From his earlier position near the doorway, Jimin is suddenly right next to you. “No, it shouldn’t have. And it’s not your fault, Y/n,” he says. 

“Grief is natural and necessary, really, for the healing process,” Dr. Greene adds. “But Nurse Jimin is right, you shouldn’t blame yourself.” She looked back at her chart. “Jimin, you’re on call for the night, yes?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Keep an eye on her pain levels. Y/n, if you’re uncomfortable or need anything during the night, press this button and Jimin will come check in on you, alright?”

You nod numbly. You don’t care. You hope you do die during the night, so you can at least be with Taehyung. 

Jimin leaves and returns in what feels like both an hour and two seconds, holding a clear bag full of liquid and a bottle of pills.

“Take one of these to help you sleep. This is for your blood pressure – it’s still low – and we’ve added more morphine.”

You simply hold out your hand for the bottle, shake out a pill, and swallow it down without water. Why would you need water when the love of your life is gone?

“Remember, press the button if you need anything,” Jimin says. “I’ll be right here for you.”

“Mm.” You turn over as much as you comfortably can and almost immediately fall into a hopefully dreamless sleep.

If only you were so lucky.

The crash. The moment of the shooting star. Over and over and over again.

“Y/n! Come on, baby, wake up!” You can’t see anything, but you can hear his voice. “They’ll be here soon, you have to hang on for me, okay?”

7.

“Help! Somebody help! No, she’s worse than me, hurry up!”

H.

“Miss? Can you hear me?” 

“Shit, he’s coding!”

L.

“Y/n?” You feel yourself being gently shaken, and still half-dreaming, your body gives a great shudder from the accident. “I’m sorry to wake you. I just need to take your vitals.”

“Blue,” you reply, barely able to form the word. You saw it. “The car was blue.” 

When you look up, you realize that it’s not Jimin, but a nurse you’ve never seen before. She pauses for a moment, clearly perplexed, before she blinks.

“Oh! You were in a car accident?”

“The car was blue,” you continue, scared to lose the thought. You’re a professor of writing at a top university, you should be able to express yourself more fluently. But your words seem to escape you before you can capture them. “License 7-H-L.”

“Oh, my… the nurse looks around before grabbing a pen clipped to her scrubs and scribbling the numbers onto a notepad beside you. “You’re a regular detective!”

“Where’s Jimin?” You ask. You don’t know this new nurse, but at least you trust Jimin.

“Oh, his shift ended,” she replies. “He’ll be back tonight! In the meantime, can you tell me how you feel?”

“I’m… dizzy. My heart…” You can hear it pounding hard in your ears, far too quickly, and leaving you lightheaded. Your whole body hurts, centralized in your leg and chest, far worse than last night.

“Your blood pressure must have gone back to normal, let me get that saline off for you. How’s the pain? Your morphine should have worn off by now.”

You wince. “Bad.”

“Okay, I’ll adjust that.” The nurse fiddles with your IV before turning back to you. “I think your mother will be here soon. In the meantime, is there anything I can do for you?”

“Actually… can you tell her not to come?” A wave of guilt tries to wash over you, but it’s overpowered by the darkness already inside. “I just want to sleep today. She shouldn’t bother.” You pause. “I don’t want any visitors.” “Ah- sure thing, whatever you’d like,” the nurse chirps hesitantly. “Oh, and… what happened to your hair?”

“What do you mean?”

The nurse points. “You’re missing a chunk of hair, I’m guessing from the accident. Hey, maybe when you get out you can try a new style!”

“Yeah, maybe.” You lay back down and stare at the ceiling, wishing only that it would fall apart and crush you. What’s the point of anything without Taehyung? But… what about your students, your classes?

The day passes in a blur, and your intermittent napping keeps you barely aware of your surroundings. You don’t dream of the crash again – it’s a blessing, but at the same time you wish you could remember the rest of the license plate. You finally awaken for real once dusk has settled on the hospital.

You press the button, and immediately Jimin is in your room. “What can I do for you, Y/n?”

You take a deep breath. “Can you please bring me a pad of paper and a pencil?” You were a teenager when your father passed away, and writing was the only thing that saved you then. Perhaps it will be your healing salve now.

“Sure, there’s paper right-” Jimin pauses beside your bed before handing you the pad of paper. “Here, sorry. And you can use one of my pens. How are you feeling?”

“Groggy,” you reply. You’re surprised by how weak your grip on the pencil feels. “Numb. It hurts, but…”

“I’ll make a note for the doctor. Don’t worry, I promised your mom that I’d help you get better. Your lung should be healing soon,” Jimin says. “But I need to change the bandages on your chest tube, if that’s okay?” “Yeah.” You forgot it was there, the clear tube coming out of your chest. It’s held in place with bandages, which Jimin carefully removes before cleaning off your skin and placing new ones down. He’s wearing a silver locket that you’ve never noticed before. It suits him, shining against his skin.

“Thank you,” you say as he finishes taking your vitals. 

“I’m happy to help.”

The next week passes in a blur; between crying fits for Taehyung, assuring your mother that you’re alright, scribbling down everything on your mind, and forcing yourself to sleep simply to avoid the reality of waking hours, you barely have a second to consider your own healing process.

It isn’t until Dr. Greene beams at you that you register: physically, you’re feeling a lot better, and after a week of bed rest and god awful depression, you’re ready to try hobbling around. 

“Looks like you might actually get out a few days early,” Dr. Greene says. “We’ll be able to remove that chest tube tonight.” Beside you, your mother begins crying with relief. 

“Wonderful.” It’s still hard to smile, but you manage a weak attempt. Later that day, you hear a bit of commotion in the hallway, and soon the nurse brings in a huge basket of cards, flowers, and stuffed animals.

“Woah… what’s all this?” With effort, you sit up and take the offered basket. The sweet smell of the flowers is a welcome change to the cold sanitation of the hospital. 

“From your students!” The nurse says happily. “Some even sent you books!”

“Aww, they’re sweet.” You flip through one of the books and notice that all your advisees have signed the title page and scribbled well-wishes in the margins of the chapters. Their kindness and love sparks your first real smile since the accident.

You spend the day reading, counting down the hours until your chest tube is removed. When you’re finally wheeled to the OR and numbed up so they can sew the hole in your chest shut, you feel relief. Your leg is still in a cast, but at least your body is fighting for you. 

That night, you’re drifting off to sleep when you feel a painful tugging on your chest, right where your stitches are. “Mm?” You blink sleepily and see Jimin’s silhouette standing over you.

“Ah, Y/n. I’m sanitizing your wound so it heals well, don’t mind me. How are you feeling?”

“I’m a little sore,” you reply honestly. “It’s not too bad, though.” “Let me fix that for you.” You can see Jimin’s dark figure change something on your IV. “That’ll help you feel better.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, feeling sleep begin to overtake you.

“It’s my pleasure, Y/n.” That night, your dreams are choppy and chaotic. At one point, you dream that your body is on fire; at another, you’re back in the accident but instead of Taehyung, it’s Jimin. The sun has barely risen before you bolt upwards. “Gah!” Your throat is burning, dry, painful – it feels like you’ve swallowed sand.

It must be extra early, because Jimin is still there. He rushes to your bedside. “Y/n? What’s wrong?”

“I- who are you? I need… water…” you croak, your vision swimming before you. You don’t know who this man is, and you don’t know where you are. You can vaguely feel yourself falling backwards.

“Okay, let me get you some- wait, Y/n!”

~~~

You awaken with Jimin, Dr. Greene, and another nurse standing over you. Packed in bed beside you are several ice packs. Even so, you feel your body sweating. 

“What… happened?” You manage. Your tongue feels thick in your mouth.

“You woke up with a bad fever. It’s lucky Jimin thought fast and worked to cool you down.” Dr. Greene said. “We’ll have to keep you monitored for longer than we anticipated.”

“W-Why do I have a fever?”

Dr. Greene’s brows knit together. “I… I’m not sure. We’ll keep an eye on you for the next couple of days and see if anything changes.”

Your fever goes up and down throughout the day, occasionally spiking dangerously enough that the monitors around you begin to beep in alarm. Around noon, Jimin comes in with water and a bottle of pills. He’s wearing a lopsided Santa hat along with his scrubs.

“Merry almost-Christmas. Here, take two for the fever.”

“What are you doing here?” You ask weakly. Even in your fever-addled mind, you remember he only comes at night.

“My shift changed. You need more urgent care anyways, and I volunteered.”

You swallow down the pills and nod. “Thanks.”

“Your bruises have improved,” Jimin observes, lightly touching your face.

“I guess. Fuck.” You feel the sudden urge to douse yourself in cold water. “I just want to get out of here.”

Jimin is quiet for a moment. “Have they found the car that hit you?”

“How would I know?” You feel a wave of dizziness hit you, likely brought on by a heartbeat that never seems to slow down. “Jimin, please…” Save me.

“We’ll see how you’re doing tomorrow,” Jimin says. “For now, you should stay awake. What’s your favorite color?”

“Uh, green.”

“Favorite food?” You can barely think. “Sushi.”

Jimin grins. “Favorite neighbor?”

You try to summon a chuckle. “Whichever one is saving my life.”

“Fantastic. I’ll see you later tonight. Your mother should be in here soon – let me adjust your pain meds, we kept you off of them from the fever but they might just help.”

The night feels eternal; you can’t sleep a wink, and your mother stays with you the whole night. Your fever continues to climb and although at first your breathing is rapid to cool you down, by the time the sun rises it feels as though your lungs have stopped working entirely. You don’t know if that’s normal for a fever.

“Doctor!” Your mother calls for what feels like the thousandth time. 

Dr. Greene hurries into the room, Jimin right behind her. “Is it her fever?”

“No, it’s…” Your mother points wordlessly at your hands. You can’t see what she’s talking about, but when you raise your hands you see your fingertips are blue. You can’t think. You can’t breathe. You don’t care. Everything is fuzzy, so fuzzy… the monitors are beeping again, but you can barely hear them. You’re gasping for air now, choking on nothing. You can’t breathe.

“Doctor Greene,” Jimin says loudly, “I think she’s overdosing.”

“Lord, you may be right. Get the Narcan!”

Jimin darts out of the room and returns just as your eyes begin to flutter closed. Taehyung… 

~~~

There’s a cliff. Taehyung is there, you know it. You just need to jump. The moment you start walking, though, it’s almost as if you’re being pulled away from the edge. No! You open your eyes. Has it been minutes? Days?

“Dear god,” your mother says breathlessly. “She’s awake.”

“How on earth…?” Dr. Greene wonders, wiping her forehead. “Jimin, props to you for your quick thinking. But an overdose? How?”

“Doctor, it’s possible that with her weakness and weight loss, plus the fact that we held off the morphine for several days, an average dose might have caused her to OD.” Jimin suggests. His voice seems to carry more authority than even Dr. Greene’s.

“Yes, perhaps… but the fever?”

“Hm…” Jimin reaches forward and prods at the stitches on your chest. You immediately flinch, your raspy voice yelping in pain. “An infection. Possibly blood poisoning.”

“You know, you really might be right,” Dr. Greene says thoughtfully. “It’s not impossible. Okay, we’ll start you on an antibacterial and switch to lower-grade painkillers.” With this note, Dr. Greene and Jimin file out, leaving you with your mother.

“Momma, did you ever find the car?” You ask, gripping her hand urgently. The owner of that car killed your husband; you want them brought to justice.

“No, sweetie, I’m sorry.”

“What about the license plate?”

“Well, none of the witnesses saw it-”

“No,” you shake your head. “I- the nurse wrote it down. On…” you point to the notepad beside you. “The first page.”

Your mother picks up the abused pad of paper, filled with random journal entries and doodles, and flips to the front. “Y/n, there’s nothing here. It’s blank. Maybe you dreamed it?”

“What? No.” You’re sure that the nurse wrote it down for you. “Check on the floor.”

After a brief but thorough search, the paper doesn’t turn up. What had happened? You can’t possibly remember the partial plate now. Shit. And even so, it was a literal fever dream – you could have made the numbers up.

“Y/n, I’m going to go for an early Christmas dinner at Aunt Ella’s, but I’ll be back tomorrow morning, okay?” 

“Sure, mom.” She’s barely slept, after all. 

The next several days pass and you gradually begin to recover. The lab tests confirmed your blood poisoning, and you feel more grateful than ever that Jimin managed to catch it early – it could have killed you. It’s now been more than two weeks since the accident, and finally the doctor tells you that you’ll be ready to go home soon. As Christmas approaches, you’ve heard holiday music float through the air and bows and wreaths appear in your hospital room and down the hall. Even with the holiday cheer, the loss of the license plate weighs heavy on your mind.

“Merry Christmas Eve! Time to get up and try walking around!” The afternoon nurse says cheerfully as she helps you out of bed. With your heavy green cast making your leg feel detached, you clunk around while holding the nurse’s arm. You near the window, which overlooks a parking lot decorated with dirty snow, and gaze down onto the cars. Can you ever feel safe in a car again?

“Which one’s yours?” You ask the nurse absentmindedly, suddenly struck by another bolt of grief. Her life is normal. She has a car and goes to work.

“That white one right there next to the blue Prius,” she replies, pointing. You mindlessly follow her finger, when suddenly –

Blue. You clutch at your chest and stumble backwards, nearly falling if she hadn’t caught you. “That’s…” No, it can’t be. But in your heart and deep, deep in your memory… “Can you read the plate number on that blue car next to yours?”

“Uh, it’s a little too far away,” she replies, squinting. “I think it’s Jimin,’s though, I always see him pulling in just as my shift is over.”

Jimin. “Does it look dented at all?” You manage. “His car?”

“Ah… a little? I’m not sure.”

Jimin does have a blue Prius, you know that from seeing it in his driveway every day. So why, today, did the thought strike you so violently?

“You know, I think I’m tired. I’m going to lay down.”

“Oh, okay. Do you want some water or to go to the bathroom?”

“No. I just want to be alone.”

“Okay.” The nurse looks worried, but leaves you settled back in your bed. Night falls quickly and you hear a knock on the door. Jimin lets himself in, a bottle of pills in his hand.

“Hey, I heard you’ll be getting discharged soon,” he says cheerfully. He’s still wearing the Santa hat.

Blue. “Yeah, hopefully.”

“Awesome. Well, you need to take these,” he says, shaking two pills from the bottle in his hand and handing them to you.”

“What are they for?”

“They’ll help you sleep and let your blood vessels dilate to regulate your blood pressure.”

“Mm.” You wash them down with his offered water. Almost as soon as you swallow, you feel your body rebel against you – you lean over and vomit onto the floor. The smell makes you gag and you feel everything you’ve eaten come up a second time, the stomach acid burning your throat.

“What- what did you give-” you can’t finish your sentence as your stomach convulses again. Jimin rushes over to you with a bucket and you lean into it, retching. You continue dry heaving long after your body is completely emptied, while Jimin rubs your back reassuringly. “G-get the doctor,” you croak.

“Are you going to be okay alone-?” “Yes. Please, just…” your body shivers as he gets up and leaves. What did he give you? You’re doubtless that those pills caused your vomiting. Just the thought sends you back to your bucket, although you’ve no more left to give. 

“What on earth happened?” Dr. Greene says, rushing in. Jimin is close behind her.

“He gave me pills…” you gasp as your body tries to vomit again. The muscle contractions leave you feeling boneless. “They made me throw up.”

“You’ve got no known allergies on file…” Dr. Greene says, consulting a chart by your bed. “Jimin, what did you give her?”

Jimin produces a bottle clearly labelled DOXEPINE. “Just to help her sleep, she was asking for something earlier.”

Your heart drops. “That’s not-” you’re interrupted by another gagging fit. You want to scream at your body that there’s nothing left, but you can barely speak. “Not the same-” fuck.

“She must have a sensitivity to the Doxepine,” Dr. Greene says thoughtfully. “Jimin, make sure she stays hydrated. If she keeps throwing up we’ll need to keep her longer for observation.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

“Ngh… no…” Dr. Greene leaves before you can tell her that that wasn’t the same pill bottle.

“Here, drink this,” Jimin says, offering you a bottle of water.

“What did you give to me?” You ask, panting. As soon as the water touches your tongue you reach for the bucket, your body rejecting it immediately.

Jimin blinks innocently. “Sleeping pills.”

“Fuck off, that wasn’t the… same bottle.”

“Y/n, you’re sick and grieving, it’s understandable that your eyes are playing tricks on you-”

“No. You… poisoned me!” You summon what strength you have left and swipe at the nurse, who’s now leaning over you. Your fingers catch the silver chain around his neck, and the motion knocks the locket open.

Fluttering out of the locket and onto your bandaged chest is… hair?

No, not hair. Your hair. The color, and texture… it’s exactly the same.

You’re missing a chunk of hair, I’m guessing from the accident, the nurse had said.

Not from the accident. Almost in slow motion, your eyes travel up to meet Jimin’s. 

“Y/n, you’re acting erratic.” As if nothing happened, he plucks your hair from the bed, tucks it back into the locket, and straightens his Santa hat. “I’ll have to tell the doctor to consider sedatives. Merry Christmas, Y/n.”

“No-” Your stomach contracts once more and by the time you look up, gasping for breath, he’s gone.

You spend another sleepless night in the hospital, growing more paranoid by the minute. You refuse to eat or drink anything you’re given – you’re still nauseous, and what if it’s full of sedatives? 

When dawn breaks on Christmas Day, you’ve never felt less cheer. You’re concerned about Jimin; the car is surely a coincidence, but the hair? And the pills?

“Y/n?” Dr. Greene knocks on the door. “Merry Christmas. How are you feeling?”

“I want to get out of here,” you respond immediately.

Dr. Greene smiles. “We’ll see how you do moving around today. How’s your nausea?” 

“Better,” you lie. Anything to leave. You can handle nausea at home.

“Wonderful. Well, Nurse Jimin will be taking care of you today, since your other nurses are off duty. Press the button if you need anything.”

You nod, shivering. Should you tell Dr. Greene? Before you can consider it, though, she’s left the room.

Hours later, Jimin pops his head in, his Santa hat crooked. The locket is still swinging from his neck. 

“Hey! Dr. Greene said if you’re doing well by the end of the day, you might be discharged for tomorrow!”

You stare at him. Can he really pretend nothing is wrong? “Great.”

“Let’s get you up and walking around.” Jimin offers you his arm. At first you don’t want to take it, but your legs are too weak on your own. He slowly leads you out of your room and down the hall before circling back. You pass another window overlooking the parking lot and there, in the same spot, is the blue car. From this window, you can see much better.

“Which car’s yours?” you ask quietly.

“That blue Prius next to the white one,” he says cheerfully, pointing.

Finally, when you squint you can read the license plate: 7HLC946.

7HL. Your body stiffens. It’s the same car. Then, that means… you swivel slowly until you’re staring at Jimin, who’s still looking out of the window. He killed your husband.

He leads you back to your room. You feel frozen, and not from the wintertime. When you go inside, you hear a soft click. Your eyes widen. He locked the door.

“How are you feeling?” he asks softly from behind you.

“F-fine. Perfect,” you reply, your voice shaking.

“You know, you really have to stop getting yourself in trouble,” he says, strolling to the bed and smoothing down your sheets. Your eyes dart to the locked door. If you made a break for it with your cast, he could still beat you to it. “Every time you’re supposed to get discharged, something happens, and then who has to save you?”

“I’ve recovered,” you say firmly. Is it an ego thing? He wants credit for doing his job?

“Before, you always had your husband to save you,” Jimin says, standing. His eyes are drilling holes into you. “Do you know why he’d always see you off at the door?”

“Wh-what are you talking about?” “It’s so I couldn’t even look at you. He was always around, but not this time. And this time it was me that saved your life.” Jimin is advancing now, still smiling serenely. Your heart pounding, you back away, your cast clunking against the floor. 

“It was you,” you whisper when your back hits the window. “Your car. You hit us.”

“Almost gave me a heart attack when I saw you remembered my plate,” he says now, examining his nails. “Lucky I saw it before your mother did. How is she, by the way?”

“You… you killed my husband!” Your scream is more animal than human when it rips from your throat. You’re fully prepared to leap at Jimin and take the life he took from Taehyung when he pulls out a syringe.

“Shhh…” he says, stepping forward. “What did I say about sedation?”

Your blood runs cold. You don’t want to know what’s in the syringe, or what he’d do to you if he injected you with it.

Caught between him and the window, you freeze. You have to get away from him. You turn around and swing your heavy cast at the window. 

With a painful CRASH, the glass shatters. Shards fly everywhere, several of them catching and slicing your skin. You hear commotion outside and below as you shoot for the window and try to grab onto the windowsill. You nearly sob when the glass in your grip breaks off the windowsill. Almost… just like your dream of the cliff, though, you’re dragged back from the escape. Jimin locks one arm around your neck and pulls you away from the window.

You feel a sharp prick in your arm and, seconds later, your muscles seem to melt. If Jimin weren’t supporting your weight you would have fallen. Shit. What did he do to you?

“It’s for your own good, my love,” he says, carrying you to the bed and tucking the blankets in around you. Your tongue feels too heavy for your mouth; you can’t speak, and you can barely move your arms. 

There’s a loud banging on the door. “Y/n! Are you alright?”

“One second,”Jimin says to you before striding to the door and opening it.

“Jimin! What happened?” The voice belongs to a doctor you don’t recognize.

“Hey, Dr. Kim. Y/n started being combative and went for the window. Luckily, I got her calmed down and back into bed.”

Help. Your vocal chords won’t respond to you. “Hhe…”

“Goodness. We should get her moved out while the window is being repaired.” “I agree, but she did just fall asleep and she hasn’t slept in a while. I suggest giving her an hour.”

“Alright, well, please keep an eye on her.”

“Sure thing, Doctor.” Jimin shuts the door and locks eyes with you. 

“I’ve waited for you for a while, you know,” he says, sitting on the edge of the bed. His position pins down your left arm, but your right is still free. If only you could move it. “You never got sick, or hurt. I checked. You never even came to visit.” Jimin continues smiling, but his eyes are cold. “That wasn’t very nice. It’s your fault that I had to make you come visit.”

“Stuh… you,” you gasp, forcing your head to clear. “Psy…” Let me go, you want to scream. You’re straining with the effort just to lift your head.

“I know, I know, why didn’t I just talk to you at your house? Well, your guardian was always there. But here, I’m in control. And I’m the one that can save you.”

You can sense feeling returning to your arms. If he keeps talking, it might give you more time to recover from your paralysis. Luckily, Jimin seems so relieved that he can finally tell you everything that he doesn’t seem close to shutting up. 

“Do you know how many times your mother has thanked me for saving your life? How Dr. Greene said I was her favorite nurse?” Jimin caresses your cheek, becoming more animated as he speaks. “Even you, Y/n, you called me your angel.”

You try to bite him when his hand gets close, but your jaw muscles are slack. C’mon… 

“And you’re right, I am your angel. I’m your guardian angel, and I’ll always keep you safe.” You can almost lift your hand. At his words, he leans in to kiss your forehead and with enormous effort, you use the same moment to lift and swipe your bloody hand, still gripping the jagged glass from the window, at him. The glass catches Jimin right in the neck and he gasps and sputters, pressing a hand to his throat as bright red blood gushes from the wound, spattering you and staining the bed. Meanwhile, you collapse, your strength entirely spent.

Jimin staggers upright, hand outstretched towards you. When he tries to speak, his voice is a mere gurgle.

“Y/n- you… no…” with that, he falls to the floor. You see him try and fail to rise again before Jimin sighs and is still at last.

How did you wind up here? 

As you slump back into your bed, with him lying on the floor next to you, a hazy thought informs you that it must look like a scene straight out of Romeo and Juliet.

Although, you think ruefully, glancing down at the sharp shard of glass clenched in your fits, I don’t think Juliet would have done this.

“Merry fucking Christmas.”

[moony-meadow]

The Very Hungry Beelzebub (1)

Summary: Once Beelzebub recovers from an illness, the Avatar of Gluttony goes on a hunger-fueled rampage. When he runs into a certain tasty human, Beel's clouded judgement leaves him wondering why he waited so long to indulge.

Next Part

I blew out a long sigh as I stared up at the ceiling of my bedroom. Against my will, my mind had once again wandered to the events of three days ago. Despite my best efforts, I was unable to forget the experience of Mammon eating me whole.

It didn’t help that I was unable to distract myself with the company of others. I’d been instructed to minimize contact with the rest of the members of the House of Lamentation due to an illness that was currently going around. Both Satan and Belphegor were presently sick in bed, and apparently Beelzebub was just beginning to recover.

Lucifer had texted me earlier to update me on the status of his sick brothers. Apparently it had hit Beel so hard that he had been completely unable to keep any food down for nearly twenty-four hours. I had to imagine that would be like torture to the Avatar of Gluttony.

With my mind fixated on the idea of food (whether it be me as the food or otherwise) I found myself feeling quite famished. Grabbing my D.D.D where it lay next to me on my bed, I clicked on the screen to see that the time was 12:17 am. I grinned. “Perfect time for a midnight snack.”

After sliding on a pair of slippers, I exited my room and made my way to the kitchen. The moment I stepped through the door, I knew something was off. The usually tidy room looked like it had been struck by a tornado. Food packaging, containers, and trays were scattered everywhere. Every single cupboard was open, and the drawers had been pulled out and tossed to the side. At the center of it all was Beel, who stood in front of a completely emptied refrigerator.

“Beel! Are you okay? What happened?!” I exclaimed. It certainly seemed like the guy had recovered from his sickness enough to be able to eat again, so much so that it appeared as though he’d eaten every single thing in the kitchen.

Beel didn’t respond right away. All I could see was the back of him, so I could only guess what expression he was wearing on his face. Just as my concern was beginning to mount, the red headed demon slowly began to turn around to face me.

The first thing I noticed was the look in his eyes. It wasn’t uncommon for Beel to appear hungry, in fact it was pretty much his neutral expression. However, the look that the demon currently wore was more than just hunger. Beelzebub looked positively ravenous.

I instinctively took a step back. I had never been particularly afraid of Beel before. Even when he’d gone on his little rampage after Mammon and I ate his custard, he hadn’t directed his rage at me. He may have expressed a desire to eat me on multiple occasions, but there had never been malice behind his words. Even now, the Avatar of Gluttony didn’t look angry, he just looked hungry.

“We ran out of food, but I’m still so hungry,” Beel commented as he began to advance towards me.

Nervous beads of sweat began to pop up on my forehead. “Oh, well why don’t we..uh go out to eat or something?” I suggested shakily.

Beel shook his head as a small dribble of drool leaked out of the corner of his mouth. His gaze was fixated on me. “Why do that when there’s a perfectly good human treat right in front of me?” His eyes had a glazed look to them, almost as if he was in some kind of trance.

You know that saying, “you’re not you when you’re hungry”? Yeah, that definitely applied to Beelzebub. It was like he’d forgotten that he and I were supposed to be friends. He’d wanted to eat me ever since we first met, but had always managed to control himself. But now it was as if his self control was all but obliterated and he could only perceive me as food--something to satiate the emptiness in his stomach.

“Beel, no,” I scolded as sternly as I could muster. “I know you’re hungry, but you can’t eat me.” As I said the words, I remembered my pact with him. I didn’t like to command any of the demons I had pacts with unless absolutely necessary. They were supposed to be my friends after all. Therefore, I would attempt to talk Beel down naturally. If that failed then I would issue an official order.

As Beel approached ever closer, I was suddenly overcome with an all too familiar sensation. Every inch of body tingled as, for the second time in my life, I began to shrink. Things were going too far, it was definitely time to forcibly put an end to Beel’s actions. I opened my mouth and attempted to issue the order, only to find myself incapable of making a single sound.

My eyes went wide as I stared up at Beelzebub’s growing form. He had a satisfied, knowing smile on his face. “He cast some sort of silencing spell!” I mentally screamed. It was almost like he had known what I’d been thinking! He predicted I’d try to use our pact to control him and had done what was needed to stop me.

When the shrinking finally stopped, my fear reached its peak. I was now the perfect size to be eaten, standing in front of a voracious demon. The safety net the pact had provided was now null and void.

“Mammon got to eat you like this...now it’s my turn,” Beel announced happily.

I tried to back away from the demon who now stood right in front of me, however, it proved fruitless. With swift ease, he reached down and snatched me up off of the floor, leaving my now miniature slippers behind. My stomach churned as he lifted me up to face level. As those pinkish-purple eyes of his trapped me in their gaze, Beel hungrily licked his lips.

My second attempt at vocalizing proved fruitless, I couldn’t even get a whimper out. All I could do was flail in Beel’s powerful grip. At my full size, I stood no chance against even the most minor demons in the Devildom. Now a couple inches tall, faced with the Avatar of Gluttony himself, I was completely and utterly defenseless. I despised the feeling.

The worst part of it was that I couldn't even really be mad at Beel. I was furious, sure, but more so with the situation than anything. He had been taken over by his sin and was unable to think rationally. I knew deep down that the Beelzebub I had befriended would never do this to me. Still, I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt to be treated like no more than food by someone I was close to.

“In you go…” Beel hummed. The next thing I knew, I was being moved feet first towards the demon’s gaping mouth.

The second I was within range, I began to kick desperately at the giant pair of lips. My feet connected with the soft flesh several times, but all it seemed to achieve was causing Beel to chuckle.

In the end, my struggling proved to be futile, as Beel easily deposited me in his mouth. He closed his lips around my midsection, leaving my legs trapped inside his mouth while my upper body still remained outside. I tried to use my arms to push myself out but Beel’s hold on me, while considerably gentle, was completely unrelenting.

Inside the giant demon’s mouth, I could feel my legs getting lapped at by his tongue. I pulled a face of disgust, but obviously couldn’t make the accompanying retching sound. Glancing upwards, I could see Beel was looking down at me. Still, there was no hostility or malevolence in his eyes. He seemed to only recognize that he was doing something that made him happy, not that he was doing something that was harmful to me.

Then suddenly, my view of the outside world was ripped away as Beel sucked the rest of my body inside his mouth. I was instantly coated in saliva, which was only made worse when the tip of a massive tongue began running up and down from my hips to my head.

It was at that moment that I realized there was nothing to prevent Beel from biting me with those deadly teeth of his. With Mammon it had been different. Despite being reluctant, I had agreed to let him eat me willingly, and only after ordering him to not allow any harm to come to me. This time, I had no such guarantees.

Beel’s tongue shifted, but thankfully not to position me in between his teeth. Instead, I was shoved against the hard palate above. I attempted to leverage myself against the roof to push myself away, but the tongue beneath me proved to be too strong.

“Mmmm, dewicioush,” Beel purred, struggling to get the word out right with his mouth full of me.

“Why do I have to taste good? Why couldn’t I taste like rotten cheese or something?” I pondered miserably.

For a few moments longer I was held in place against the roof of Beel’s mouth. He was clearly savoring my flavor. Honestly, I was surprised he had held off on swallowing me for so long. He was usually pretty quick to devour any food in front of him. But I guess because humans were considered such a delicacy, he was taking his time for once.

When Beel’s tongue abruptly began to move me towards the back of his throat, the panic began to really take hold of me. Without a command preventing it from doing so, the acid in the demon’s stomach would no doubt dissolve me. I’d be digested like any other piece of food.

Desperately, I thrashed around. I didn’t know what I hoped to accomplish, but my instincts were urging me to fight for my life. My heart got caught in my throat when the entire environment around me started to tilt. If I had to guess, Beel was leaning his head back so that I would more easily slide down his throat.

With my legs already hanging down into the esophagus, all it took was a strong gulp to kickstart my descent into Beel’s body. I loosed a silent scream before I was dragged into the Avatar of Gluttony’s gullet.

[jimlingss]

Member: Any genre: angst, angst, angst. AU: joseon?? Sentence: any Prompt: any

Man, you know I historicals are weakness, don’t you? hahah and angst, angst, angst?! Three times?! Don’t blame me if I don’t hold back.

↳ Lotus Blooms in Mud

2.3k || 100% Mild Angst || Park Jimin || Historical!AU

There is nothing safe within the palace.

Inside the four stone walls, where every commoner can only dream of entering, kindness is weakness. Compassion leads to another getting ahead instead of yourself. The only shields are silk, gold, and extravagance as the higher the status, the more power one can wield. 

Inside the palace, nothing is safe. No belonging, possession or secret. Not when every maid, minister and eunuch have ears open wide and eyes that wander. Not when anything can be taken at a moment’s notice. Even kings are killed. Kingdoms are conquered. Dynasties fall. 

But you will protect what is yours.

“Your Highness.”

Seohwa, Minister Kim’s daughter, bows to you with one mere servant behind her. You’ve seen her many times, enough to recognize her face and know who she is. Your eyes flicker down her frame to notice her pink and white hanbok that’s clearly been newly tailored with the best silks. You don’t miss the golden ornament on the side of her braided hair either. Or the rosy colour on her cheeks that’s also pressed onto her plush lips. 

“Are you here for His Majesty’s banquet?”

Her head delicately lifts and her eyes meet yours. “Yes, I am.”

“You came with Minister Kim?”

She nods. “My father thought it would be good to visit the grand palace to learn more.”

The two of you walk alongside one another with your entourage of servants trailing after you at a distance. You stop by the lily pond and take her hands within yours, offering a warm smile. “Then he made a good decision. There’s not enough girls my age at these banquets and I’ve been in need of a friend for a long time.”

Seohwa visibly brightens. “Then, if you are willing, I could ask my father if I could come more often, Your Highness.”

“Yes, of course. That would be nice.” Behind the two of you, the drums start to resound through the courtyard. “It looks like the banquet’s about to begin.” 

“Shall we?” The girl looks to you, excitement clear on her features.

You nod, but your lips remain in a tight line. “I wish I didn’t have to.”

“Why?” The girl is genuinely perplexed. “Aren’t the banquets supposed to be the best celebrations in the kingdom?”

“They are. But His Majesty is expecting me to perform today. I hurt my ankle while practicing and now I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint him.” You sigh, but then your eyes flicker to her. “You dance, don’t you?”

Seohwa grows shy. “Only a little.”

“You’re being modest. I’ve heard from Minister Kim that you’ve been performing since you were young.” You step towards her. “How about you take my place?”

“C-Can I really?”

“Yes, of course, and His Majesty should be very happy with today’s celebrations. If you do well enough, he’ll reward you with anything you want.”

“Anything?”

“His Majesty is generous and kind. Surely he will be able to grant you anything you desire,” you tell and she seems to contemplate whether to accept or not. Your gaze turns desperate. “You can do this favour for me, right, Seohwa?”

She nods after a second. “Yes, I would be happy to.”

The entire court gathers in the throne room. Each person is seated on cushions with tables of lavish food in front of them. The ministers are having their alcohol poured while Emperor Park looks out at his court on the highest seat in front.

Your eyes travel diagonally to Crown Prince Jimin who’s dressed in red with the gold emblem of a dragon on his chest. In spite of the extravagance, his smile is still sweet and his eyes are soft. But they don’t look at you. No. You catch his gaze fixing onto Seohwa down the hall all too easily. Said girl is all too bashful as well with his unspoken attention and affection.

There are no secrets in the palace. 

You have long known their tenderness to each other.

“Princess Y/N,” the Emperor pipes up as the drums cease. You re-direct your attention to him with a perfect smile, posture straight and character poised. “You have promised a performance for me today?”

Several of the men around the room murmur, nodding in anticipation.

Your voice is clear and crisp as you speak, “Yes, I was. Unfortunately, Your Majesty, I have recently gotten injured but I have found my replacement. Lady Park Seohwa is a much better performer than I. You will not be disappointed.”

“I see.” The older man’s eyes look towards the girl seated farther than you are. Then they trail to the older man beside her who’s beaming proudly. “I did not know your daughter could perform, Minister Kim.”

“Yes, she can do many things. Hopefully you can find enjoyment out of her skills.”

Seohwa stands, bowing her head towards the Emperor before she comes to the middle of the room. Your eyes narrow in on the way she glances at Crown Prince Jimin and how he shifts with a gentle smile, anticipation alight in his features.

The zither is plucked. The flute is blown. A drum keeps a steady beat.

Seohwa smiles and lifts her arms gently. She steps forward and twirls. Her skirt moves along with her body. 

Other than the music, there’s not a single sound. Breaths are held and as you look around the room, you find each and every person has become enraptured by her performance, from the Emperor to Jimin himself. He smiles and it grows wider by the second. The girl’s own expression starts to ease. Their eyes are connected to one another’s.

Once the dance ends, there is resounding applause and nods of approval from the men.

“Very good!” the Emperor praises with a bellowing chuckle and she bows. “Minister Kim, I didn’t know you had such a talented and beautiful daughter.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“For your performance, I would like to grant you one reward.” He turns to her and her head lifts, youthful eyes brightened. “Is there anything that you wish for?”

Seohwa glances at you, recalling your words and seemingly gathers her courage. “There is one thing, Your Majesty, but I am unsure if I will be allowed to have this wish.”

“Nonsense.” He gestures to her. “There is nothing the Emperor cannot give to you. What is it?”

She bows her head deeply and reverently. “Please allow me to stay by Crown Prince Jimin’s side.”

Instantly, there are murmurs that ripple throughout the entire room of court ministers. Jimin is wide-eyed at the bold proclamation. You conceal the smirk sneaking up on your lips. 

What a fool.

The Emperor slams his hand down on his armrest and she jolts. “How imprudent!” he shouts. “The Crown Prince has been betrothed to Princess Y/N before you were even born. How dare a measly girl like you get in the matter of politics for your own greed!”

“I...I…” Seohwa’s eyes are rounded and she stumbles back.

It’s your time to act.

Immediately, you stand. “Your Majesty!” You round your table and come beside her, only to fall to your knees with your forehead pressed to the ground and the sleeves of your hanbok out in front of you. You lift your head. “Please forgive Seohwa! She only said such a thing because she wants to be in the palace and continue performing for you and His Highness.”

“Hmph.” He looks at her. “Is this true?”

She frantically nods. “Y-Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Rise, Princess Y/N,” he says and you get onto your feet. The Emperor shifts to Seohwa and exhales steadily. “You should thank Princess Y/N for speaking on your behalf. I have no plans on punishing anyone when this is supposed to be a joyous occasion. I will forget what you said.” He motions to the girl. “However, if that is the true intention behind your wish, I will still grant it for you.”

The Emperor exhales. “I do agree that your talents would be wasted outside of the palace, so I shall bestow you the honour of entering the women’s internal court as my new concubine.”

At his declaration, Seohwa’s head snaps upwards. You mask the smirk tickling on your lips. 

Jimin has a horrified expression and he opens his mouth, moving to speak, but he’s interrupted by Seohwa’s father, Minister Kim. “Your Majesty!” 

He stumbles forward beside his daughter, pressing a harsh hand on her shoulder and the two of them drop to a kneel. “I-I’m afraid my daughter is not suited to palace life. She’s much too clumsy and young. I haven’t taught her well enough yet.”

“Nonsense. There is nothing she will not be able to learn inside the palace.”

“Your Majesty—”

He slams his fist against the table. The both of them flinch. No minister, servant or eunuch dares to speak or utter a single word. “You dare refuse a generous offer from the Emperor? This is a higher status than you could ever ever obtain on your own!”

“Father.” Jimin clears his throat, expression composed and he turns to the Emperor. “Don’t be angry. I understand Minister Kim’s worries. Perhaps she can stay in the palace, but she may be suited to wed someone younger.”

“Who? You?” He chuckles. “You are betrothed. You cannot have a consort already.”

You look over to Jimin. 

His lips are drawn in a tight line, the furrow of his brow deeply set, and after a moment, he sits back. Jimin is a coward who cannot conjure persuasive words or change the mind of the Emperor. He doesn’t even try to.

“A father must let go of his children eventually, Seokjin. No good will be done by holding onto them.”

Minister Kim stays quiet and then raises his head. In a quiet voice, he responds. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

In one single command, servants come to take Seohwa to prepare her for tonight. The Emperor says he would love to see another dance — a private one. And that implication is enough for you and a few others to secretly snicker.

She, however, is on the verge of tears. She calls after her father who doesn’t answer. She looks to Jimin who has diverted his vision. And then she shifts to you.

You hold Seohwa’s stare, watching as she’s taken out of the doors.

Then, you smirk.

...

The moon hangs high above the horizon. The warm candlelight illuminates your room and you listen to the sound of the brush stroking against the parchment, watching as each flicker of your wrist leaves a trail of ink. 

You’re interrupted by a servant girl coming in. “ Your Highness, His Royal Highness, the Crown Pri—”

Jimin enters, steps heavy and firm, gaze darkened.

You look to the servant. “Leave us.”

She bows her head, stepping backwards gingerly until you hear the doors shut.

You set the brush down, half-way through copying the poem, and a soft smile graces your features as you gaze at him. “What’s the matter? It’s not like you to visit me so late.”

“Why did you do it?” His voice is thick and you notice the clench in his jaw, the burning of his eyes.

“I don’t understand.”

“Don’t pretend you’re stupid,” Jimin spits, “You are the one who set Seohwa up! It was you!”

You scoff, unable to believe that he came all the way here for her when you thought he was coming for you. You should’ve known. “She brought it onto herself. Who told her to be that foolish?”

“You told her to perform at the banquet. It was you who kneeled in front of the Emperor and said she wanted to stay in the palace—”

“It was her fault for trying to take what wasn’t hers! She is greedy, stupid and small-minded.” 

Nothing you said is wrong. She jumped at the opportunity to show off her skills without thinking twice. She wanted attention. She carefully picked out what she would wear today, from tailoring new attire to the ornament in her hair that you strongly suspect Jimin gave to her.

His jaw is set, frame rigid. But Jimin’s glare is unmatched to yours.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t know about your feelings for one another? How that wrench was trying to take you away from me? Who does she think she is.”

“Don’t you dare speak about her like that!” Jimin shouts and seethes, “It’s your fault. It’s because of you— because of you that she has become my father’s concubine!”

“And you think you’re blameless?! You’re the only one who could’ve saved her and you didn’t. You couldn’t.”

You’re close to him, a crazed look present in your eye. Guilt flashes across Jimin’s face underneath his boiling anger. In spite of his status, he is as weak as you are. In this palace, you have to grasp onto what you can. You have to protect what is yours closely before it’s taken away. It’s a hard lesson you had to learn and one he will have to learn as well. Even as the Crown Prince.

“I will never love you.” It’s a simple whisper that befalls his lips. His expression glosses over into impassivity. “Not when you do the things that you do.”

Your heart drops to your stomach. It aches, feels like your heart has been torn from your chest and crushed in his cold hand. Your rib cage is left bruised, hollow, and tears well into your eyes.

Jimin turns around, but before he gets to the door, you make your last words known—

“You can have as many concubines and consorts as you want. You can take maids and court ladies in. But none of them will ever last.” It’s a vow you swear aloud, as strong as Heaven’s Mandate and one you will write in blood instead of ink. “I will always be by your side. Nothing will change that, Jimin.”

The doors slam open and shut.

[four-loose-screws]

FE8 Novelization Translation - Chapter 17, Section 2

If you would like to start from the beginning, read a missed part, etc., click here!

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———————————

I call this a “section” because it is not a separate part of the chapter in the book, but divided from the rest of the chapter by a scene break.

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Chapter 17 - The Demon King's Shadow (con’t)

Frelia's pegasus knight unit was continuing to desperately defend against an overwhelmingly large enemy army.

Their entire unit had already been nearly wiped out, and the remaining soldiers were putting all of their strength into defending the bridges. If they fell here, then the enemy could invade in one fell swoop, and the people of Narube would likely be massacred without resistance.

"Those who can move, take the citizens south!" Syrene, the leader of the pegasus knight unit, shouted as loudly as she could while swinging around her lance and fending off the enemy's onslaughts.

However, she hardly had any knights left that could follow that order. Even if the knights managed to get the children atop the pegasi, their wings were damaged, and they couldn’t fly. Even the citizens who had panicked and cried at first had already lost the energy to do that any longer, and exhaustedly slipped into utter silence.

They’d made a major miscalculation. The Grado Army had lost the capital, yet still had a large number of soldiers left.

If the knights thought only about themselves, then they had the possibility to take advantage of their pegasi’s mobility and retreat, but they couldn’t abandon the people of Narube just to escape.

“We’re at our limit, Lady Syrene! We’ll buy you some time! Please do whatever it takes to get out of here!” A knight wearing armor covered in blood yelled at her.

But Syrene shook her head.

She had no intention of running away until the very end. The bodies of the Frelian soldiers who’d exhausted all of their strength lay around her. She was ready to die here in battle herself as well.

Her only regret was that she couldn’t live up to Prince Innes’ hopes for her. She remembered the day that she’d officially become the leader of the pegasus knights as if it was yesterday. The prince had personally given her a beautiful whip and said that the pegasus knight unit was the pride and joy of Frelia, and he wanted them to fight for their homeland so long as they drew breath.

His words filled her chest with deep emotions. She swore to herself that she would devote herself to Frelia… and Prince Innes and Princess Tana.

The plan was to unite her forces with the prince’s at Narube River and fight together at full strength under his orders. However, before that could happen, she would probably see her end. Regret burned in her heart.

Her younger sister was together with the prince. That was her only consolation. If her sister could protect the prince when she couldn’t… then that was all she could ask for.

“Lady Syrene, that’s…!” One of the knights shouted.

Was it more enemy reinforcements? Just how much leftover strength could the Grado Army have at this point? 

The moment Syrene was about to succumb to her despair, she looked at where her soldier was pointing, and instinctively breathed a sigh of belief.

A large army was nearing from the south. They were still a considerable distance away, so she couldn't clearly make out who they were, but the color of their armor was different from that of the Grado Army.

"Is that… the Renais Army…?" The moment Syrene whispered, a single pegasus knight appeared from the oncoming crowd, and flew straight in her direction. 

Syrene knew who it was before her eyes could even confirm the rider’s face, as she could distinguish the slight but distinct strong wing movements and neck shaking of individual pegasi.

She smiled without even thinking about it, and felt a weight be lifted off her shoulders that had been with her since the beginning of the war.

“Commander Syrene, are you alright?!” The knight riding the pegasus shouted, and swiftly threw a javelin at a Grado soldier coming at her while avoiding his own attack.

She effortlessly hit her target, showing her strength. ‘She’s gotten so much stronger in such a short amount of time.’ Syrene thought.

“Vanessa, you’re here! Meaning…”

“Yes, Prince Innes and Princess Tana are with me! They are safe as well!”

“Thank goodness…” Relief warmed her heart. 

Vanessa continued in a commanding tone, “Please stand down, Commander! We’ll take it from here.”

“No, I...”

‘...am not severely injured,’ she started to say, but thought twice about it.

Both her and her unit were already at the limits of their stamina. Even if she continued to be stubborn and fight on the front line, she would do the exact opposite of help, and get in her allies’ way. It was wiser for her to retreat for the moment, recuperate, and then pick up her weapon again.

“Understood! I will stand down for now, and let your commander take over from here. Please tell them I said so.”

“Yes Ma’am!”

“And Vanessa.”

Vanessa tried to guide her pegasus higher into the sky, but Syrene called out to her again.

Vanessa turned back around and no longer had her previous tense expression on her face, perhaps because she had finally relaxed. 

Syrene responded in a casual tone, “It looks like you’ve been playing a very big role as a soldier of Princess Eirika’s guard. I was really worried when I heard that you’d been betrayed in Carcino, but… I finally feel at ease.”

“Thank you Ma’am…!”

"Your spearmanship has improved greatly since we parted as well. And you've become a bit more beautiful too."

Vanessa’s eyes widened at suddenly being teased, and her cheeks turned red. “S-Sister…!”

No matter how good their relationship was as sisters, on the battlefield, they were commander and subordinate. To Vanessa, who was so serious it made her formal and strict, keeping that distinction was of vital importance. But right now, even she had forgotten herself.

Syrene laughed out loud and guided her pegasus to softly spread her wings.

Her pegasus had taken an enemy attack, which seriously injured her wing. She wanted her beloved pegasus to be healed as quickly as possible. To a pegasus knight, her pegasus was more than just a simple mount. They were invaluable partners whose fates were linked to each other.

“I’ll see you again later, Vanessa.” Syrene parted ways with her sister for the time being, and her pegasus flew off, leading her exhausted unit.

The Renais Army had crossed the bridge and was coming closer. Syrene stopped her pegasus and landed on the ground.

Everyone was injured and bleeding. Their uniforms had been beautiful and stunning when they left home, but now, they looked like they never could have been such dazzling garments. However, each and every one of their faces were lit up like the sun.

Syrene knelt down on one knee before Eirika and bowed her head. “Reporting, Princess Eirika of Renais! The Frelian Army was surprise attacked by the Grado Army, and we regrettably lost most of our soldiers. But only a few of the people of Narube have been killed since the beginning of the attack, and the rest are safe.”

“Good work. All of you please take whatever time you need to recuperate.” 

Eirika’s voice was soft and kind. Just her words alone healed Syrene of her exhaustion.

“Are you alright, Syrene?”

She recognized Prince Innes’ voice, and looked up.

He was standing next to Eirika. Among his dirt-covered army, he stood out as the one refined person. He of course should be tired since he had traveled on a long journey together with the soldiers, but he didn’t show it in the slightest. His clothing looked as if a tailor had just dressed him.

“Lord Innes… I am sorry. The Frelian Army is unable to merge with Renais’ Army. We’ve suffered too much damage, and…”

"Never mind that. None of you have anything you need to worry about. We’ll take it from here.”

His words were reassuring. ‘It appears that Vanessa is not the only one who’s grown up while we were apart.’ She felt that Prince Innes had also become even stronger since the last time they’d seen each other.

‘Perhaps…’ Syrene thought. ‘Vanessa has become more beautiful because of Prince Innes?’ It was difficult for her to imagine Vanessa falling in love with any ordinary man. If he wasn’t a partner that she could respect with all of her heart, then he likely wouldn’t be able to steal it. And If there was any man that Vanessa could respect, it was of course...

“Syrene, do you know any information about the enemy commander?”

Innes asked her in a harsh tone.

Syrene shook her head. “There is a fort on the other side of the river. The enemy commander is using it as a base. I heard that it appears to be Prince Lyon leading the army. I have not been able to confirm that myself, but that is what my subordinates reported.”

“Hmm… Do you know anything about Prince Lyon? ...No wait, nevermind.” In a move that was entirely unlike him, Innes hesitated and changed his words. “Asking won’t change anything. For now, Syrene, please get healed, and return quickly to the battlefront. We still need your power.”

“Yes, Your Majesty!”

He seemed worried about Prince Lyon for some reason, but knowing that she and her soldiers were living up to the prince’s expectations made Syrene happy. The pegasus knights had survived their long, grueling fight, retreated for the time being, and were healed by Natasha and the other healers.

“Leave the front line to us. We’ll defend the northern bridge.” Ephraim said and charged his horse straight north. 

His loyal knights Forde and Kyle led his other soldiers and followed after him.

Eirika went with Seth and the others to save the citizens. The group totaled a few dozen men and women huddling together and shaking. Eirika talked to each of them individually to encourage them, helped the injured atop her horse, and led them to a safe place.

Eirika worked as hard as she could, trying not to think about anything she did not need to. But every so often, she would remember that wicked voice. Whenever she thought about Lyon and the pain the Demon King had caused him, she couldn’t stand the feeling she felt. 

‘I ate his heart.’ Or so the Demon King said. If she accepted his words literally, then Lyon’s heart was already gone, and his body entirely controlled by the Demon King. She did not want to believe that such a terrifying thing could be reality.

It had been for only just a moment, but she'd heard Lyon scream. “Run away…” He’d pleaded with all his might. “I’ll destroy you…” There was no way that could have been the Demon King’s voice.

Lyon’s heart had yet to be completely consumed. He'd nearly suppressed the Demon King’s consciousness, and was continuing to just barely manage to fight. He was struggling as hard as he could to remain in control. And that was why they had to press forward. They had to defeat the Demon King and restore his heart.

But on the other hand of that thought, the Demon King's last words weighed heavily on her heart. Ephraim told her not to worry about them, yet she couldn't help but think about them.

Kill Prince Ephraim, and claim Princess Eirika. The Demon King said that was Lyon's desire. A kind man like Lyon shouldn't have such a twisted and ambitious desire… or so she wanted to think, but her heart was no longer sure.

As Lyon was a sickly person, Ephraim had always been the object of his admiration. In situations like when Ephraim was praised by Duessel, or he won a match against a senior knight, Lyon would cheerfully say "You really are amazing, Ephraim!" Those were words of wonder and amazement.

At the time, Eirika didn't think much of it, and just took his words at face value. ...There hadn’t been any warped feelings hiding underneath that adoration, right? He thought Ephraim was amazing… and wanted to be Ephraim… but he couldn’t. Those feelings of inferiority hadn’t turned into jealousy, had they?

“Lady Eirika, we have finished leading the people to safety.” Seth reported.

The pegasus knights had also finished receiving their treatment, and were awaiting Eirika’s orders. Now was not the time to be guessing what was within Lyon’s heart. She had orders to give as her army’s commander.

“Let’s go! We will take the fort across the river and capture Prince Lyon!” Eirika hesitated for a moment, then added, “You must not kill him! We still have a lot of questions for him.”

Syrene and her pegasus knights immediately accepted the order and all flew up into the sky at once. The pegasi had all been healed alongside their riders, and their energy was restored. They flapped their white wings at full strength.

Seth looked up at the pegasus knights and said, “Lady Eirika, I understand how you feel, but Prince Lyon is already…”

“...I know.” She cut off the rest of his sentence, not wanting to hear it.

He looked straight at her. "Our enemy introduced himself as the Demon King. We still do not know whether he truly is or not, but if he is, then this is very serious. Even if we fight him at full strength, we still might not win.”

“...You're right.”

“It’s a shame that his heart is in chaos on the outside, but…”

“I know. I’ll be fine, Seth. I’m prepared to fight him.” Eirika nodded with conviction.

She couldn’t make Seth worry, and so she spoke those words to him immediately. In truth, she still didn’t know. Would she be able to turn her sword against him?

Eirika maneuvered her horse to the front line, where Ephraim's group was fighting. She shook off her hesitation and gradually picked up speed.

A harsh battle was unfolding on the northern bridge. Grado dragon knights attacked from the sky, making the fight difficult for Ephraim and his soldiers, but the pegasus knight unit rushed to their side, and started to change their situation bit by bit.

Pegasi were of a smaller build than dragons, but were utterly fearless. They flew bravely at the enemies' chests, and threw them into confusion. Once the dragon unit's movements had broken out into a panic, Innes and Neimi shot arrows straight at them. The arrows flew through the dragon's wings. Their cries pierced the sky, and their riders lost their balance and fell into the river.

Once Eirika's army finally captured the bridge, they used that momentum to continue moving east. They could now see the fort the enemy was using as their base.

"He's in there, right?!" Ephraim asked when Eirika rode up next to him.

Eirika noticed that her brother refused to refer to Lyon by name.

Perhaps Ephraim felt just as lost as Eirika, and that was why he was purposely avoiding referring to Lyon by name. If he said it aloud, it might dull his resolve to fight, no matter what else he did.

The enemy was waiting for them outside of the fort. Eirika's army shifted into a fan formation and surrounded the Demon King.

He had a cruel smile on his face, and waited calmly for them. He no longer seemed to have any interest in pretending to be human. His facial features were clearly Lyon's, but his expressions did not feel human at all.

'That's not Lyon… such a wicked, cold stare could never be Lyon's.' Eirika told herself. But she still could not rid herself of her hesitation, rather, she tried to find if Lyon was left anywhere in his face.

"...So you intend to challenge me?" The Demon King asked. 

The chilling sound of his voice made Eirika's horse tremble so hard she could not calm her.

"You are all so lucky to not yet know my true terror…”

"Get out of Lyon's body!!" Ephraim roared.

Eirika jumped. His voice was filled with an intense anger that she had never once heard come from him in her entire life.

Ephraim did not fear the Demon King, although perhaps it was more accurate to say that he was so infuriated by someone hurting Lyon that he forgot how afraid he was. 

Ephraim's powerful voice boosted the morale of Eirika's army, but the Demon King met Ephraim's anger by laughing at him.

"It's not healthy to make your blood boil, prince of Renais. Don't you get it? Prince Lyon and everything about him is no more. I ate him. This body is no longer his.”

"Damn you…!" Ephraim raised his lance, and his soldiers each readied their own weapons. The archers and mages behind them also prepared themselves to support them.

But the Demon King’s spell was faster. Its waves rippled through the air, and a split second after, a horse collapsed.

Eirika looked over at them and felt fear send a chill down her spine. The neck of the fallen horse was turning in unnatural directions as if a huge, invisible hand was twisting it.

“Nosferatu…?!” Lute gasped. As someone so confident, it was entirely unlike her, but even she was panicking. “Please be careful! That is an extremely powerful dark magic. If you take a direct hit, then…!”

The army’s movements fell into chaos. The terrified horses burst out into a full gallop and tried to shake off their riders. Only Seth, Forde, and a few others managed to keep control of their horses, while the other knights all clung desperately to their horses’ necks.

The Demon King cast another spell. Another horse fell down. 

The army was in a panic trying to rush outside of the spell’s range, but among them, Eirika was doing the opposite, and pushing ahead. 

Seth and Ephraim noticed her and rushed over to her, flustered. They stood behind her, ready to protect her, as she faced the Demon King.

His expression changed, sharp eyes narrowing in satisfaction.

Eirika tightened her grip around her horse's reins. Her horse stopped shaking, the strength of her resolve seeming to communicate with her mount.

"Can you hear me, Lyon?" Eirika said and stared straight into the Demon King's eyes. 

"It's useless!!" Ephraim shouted and tried to stop her, but she paid him no mind and continued.

"You're in there, aren't you, Lyon? Please do not abandon hope. We will defeat the Demon King and save you… so please, don't give in…"

The Demon King's expression shook ever so slightly. He furrowed his brow and glared at Eirika. "Pitiful girl… You still believe that there is any of Lyon's heart within this body? How fascinating. Then come here. I will tear you apart limb from limb with these very hands…"

"Get away from him, Eirika!" Ephraim shouted and kicked his horse's side. Seth followed after him a second later.

Ephraim thrust his lance with a sharp battle cry. The Demon King narrowly dodged a fatal blow, but blood sprayed out from his shoulder. Seth followed up without a moment's delay, thrusting his own lance. 

The Demon King flailed his arm around wildly, but there was no power in his movements.

"Support Ephraim! Archers, step forward!" Innes ordered, and swiftly shot an arrow of his own. 

His silver arrow pierced deep into the Demon King's chest.

'Stop!' Eirika tried to scream. 'If you kill him, then Lyon's heart will die, too!!'

The Demon King staggered, but his eyes did not lose the intensity within them. "This little is too much…? The human body is so frail." He muttered in annoyance and pulled the arrow out of his chest. Blood flowed from the wound. 

He glared at Eirika with eyes burning like a blazing fire. "I have learned the extent of your power. In this case… I will hasten my resurrection. I will abandon this frail body and return to my true flesh. That is the day when this continent will once again be shrouded in darkness. There is no longer a single place any of you can run to!” He said in a tone not unlike that of one giving a curse, and disappeared.

Ephraim yelled at him, “You’re running away?! Do you really think I’ll let you desecrate Lyon’s body ever again…?!”

Ephraim ordered the soldiers to search the area and turned back towards Eirika. “Are you alright, Eirika?”

“Yes…”

"Don't do anything reckless. You know he's not Lyon. The Lyon we were friends with is already…"

"Brother, I want to believe him. The Demon King says what he does, but Lyon's heart is still alive… he's suffering and waiting for us to save him. I can feel it." Ephraim furrowed his brow. His blue eyes clouded over with hesitation.

He was still suffering, too. Just like she was.

He sighed deeply. "...I understand. Right now, finding him comes first. Eirika, you rest for a bit."

"No, I'm going to search too…"

"Your face is terribly pale. You've pushed yourself past your limit. L'Arachel, could you please take care of her?"

L'Arachel was standing near him, so he called her over. 

Eirika went into a tent with L'Arachel, deciding that she would take a short rest.

ー

[plazmafields]

Cullrian Mulan AU

Word Count: 27,573

Summery: After escaping the Venatori and his family in Tevinter, Dorian finds refuge with a kindly older woman on a farm in Ferelden. When the Inquisition comes knocking looking for volunteers, Dorian can't help but overhear that they are looking to defeat the Venatori once and for all. He could join, but he can't have them thinking he might be a Venatori himself, especially not the Commander.

Forward: Holy jesus mercy, this literally took me years to get to. Between wanting to build out the universe to make it all fit together, then getting some serious writer's block (because nothing I love can come easy), then actually writing the damn thing! This has been a journey, and I really hope you all enjoy. I know it's a pain to read long fics on tumblr, so just let me know if you'd prefer it on AO3 or something. All my love, please enjoy my longest fic ever!!

__________

Just as the sun began to rise over the hills surrounding the farm, songbirds began to chirp, stirring Dorian from his sleep. Though he hated the insistent noise, he had to admit it was a softer wakeup call than Halward pushing ten tired slaves into his room to make him “presentable” before another noble’s daughter arrived. When Dorian had rejected the woman betrothed to him since birth, his mother offered that perhaps they should find an equally suitable candidate that Dorian could see himself getting along with. Poor mother, just trying to help; but she would never understand the true reason for Dorian’s rejection. Or perhaps they knew, and just couldn’t bear to face it as truth.

It took Dorian a moment to fully wake before he was hurriedly getting dressed and cleaned up, hoping to make it downstairs in time to make breakfast. As he descended the stairs, however, the scent of eggs and baking bread filled his nose. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. While it smelled wonderful, he still felt a bit guilty for making his kind host cook for them both.

At the bottom of the stairs, he smiled and gently bowed his head at the middle aged woman at the stove. “Good morning, Miss Ella,” he said as he entered the kitchen just off the stairwell.

“Good morning, dear. How do you like your eggs?” The woman turned to greet him with two plates of food in hand, each set prepared differently.

Dorian didn’t look at the meal before responding, “I’ll take whichever you don’t prefer.”

The older woman frowned, distinctly upset with the answer. “Ser Dorian, I insist you choose. You’re my guest, after all. I want to make sure you’re comfortable.”

The two stood both with expectant stares for a short while until Dorian sighed, taking one of the plates. “And I want to make sure I’m as nonintrusive as possible.” He turned quickly, taking a seat at the quaint kitchen table.

The woman smiled gently as she joined him. “I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again: you are not intruding. I took you in, and that’s the end of it. You should feel as though we share this house, just as we share this food and the land where it grows.”

Dorian couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle as he began to eat. “Thank you, Miss Ella. You’ve been far too kind to an undeserving stranger.”

Miss Ella scoffed as she swatted at Dorian’s arm with her handkerchief, “Oh, don’t say such nonsense! Everyone is deserving of kindness, especially when they show such courtesy in return.”

Dorian said a quiet thank you as he continued to eat, trying to avoid another kind hearted argument with the woman. They stayed silent for a long moment until the woman shook her head and laughed.

“The only doubt I have about you is where you’re from. Not that I mind your secrecy; I understand the need. I only wish I knew so I could know who to thank for your wonderful manners.” She teased, wholeheartedly.

Dorian smiled despite the remembrance of home life, and answered gently, “I hardly think my parents had much to do with my manners. They’re not the kindest of people, unless they’re trying to impress someone.” His smile slipped slightly, enough for Miss Ella to notice.

“I’m sorry, dear,” she frowned and reached across the table, patting the back of Dorian’s hand, “I didn’t mean to strike a nerve. I wasn’t meaning to imply life was perfect, only that you seem acclimated to the finery in life. However, I know that comes with its own stresses and consequences.”

“You’re certainly right about that,” Dorian sighed, finishing the food on his plate.

As he stood, he took Miss Ella's empty plate as well, taking the dishes and cutlery to the wash basin to clean. As Dorian began scrubbing away, there came a rather harsh knock at the door. The two glanced curiously at one another before Miss Ella went to answer.

Dorian slowly set the dishes in the water, listening closely to who was at the door, waiting to see if it was a voice he recognized, come to take him back to Tevinter.

Instead, he heard a voice clearly announce: “Hello, serah, we’re here on behalf of the Inquisition. We’re requesting that every household contribute at least one able bodied person, or sign for a draft, if necessary.”

“Oh yes, the Inquisition. You’re the ones who patched up the sky, yes? While I would love to be of service, I’m afraid I am unable to enlist—”

“How old are you, ma’am?”

“I beg your pardon?”

Dorian heard the soldier clear his throat. “I asked your age, ma’am.”

Miss Ella, seemingly a bit taken aback by the direct nature of the question, gingerly answered, “Well, I’ll be turning fifty at the end of next month…”

The sound of confirmation and flipping paper piqued Dorian’s curiosity, as he slowly peeked into the foyer to watch the interaction.

The soldiers all nodded, one pulling out a form. “You’re within the age range to sign for the draft. If you would please—”

“I’m sorry?” Miss Ella stared in awe at the men before her. “I am the sole owner of this farm; all the land you see within several acres is my land! I cannot simply leave my property; who would be here to care for the animals? I would be more than willing to donate crops to the cause, but I am not going to leave my animals and harvest to suffer.”

Dorian watched on, ready to stand up for his gracious host, when the soldier tucked the form back into his satchel. “Ma’am, I understand your concerns, but I’m afraid, as valid as they may be, they cannot stand in the way of the fact that we need soldiers. As the Venatori threat strengthens—”

“I would be willing to volunteer,” Dorian stepped into view of the doorway, “on behalf of the household.”

Miss Ella turned with surprise, giving Dorian a worried look. He simply smiled and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Very good, Ser. And thank you.” The soldier pulled out a list of volunteers’ names and began to assign Dorian an ID. “What is your relation to this woman?”

“My son.” Miss Ella spoke up, “Dorian Rider.”

Dorian gave a gentle, thankful look, trying not to make it too obvious to the soldiers.

“I assume, then, you were born in Ferelden?” The soldier studied Dorian’s dark complexion suspiciously.

“Orlais,” Dorian lied, “but I’ve lived here much of my life…”

The soldier seemed to find that more believable as he nodded, noting the answer on the form.

“And what is your role in the household? Just a simple description of what you do around the house will suffice.” The soldier asked, poised to write.

“I help maintain the farm.”

The soldier nodded, “Very good. And do you have any experience with fighting or combat?”

“Spell—” Dorian quickly closed his mouth, remembering mages were not supposed to live or practice magic outside of the Circles in Ferelden. He worriedly glanced at Miss Ella, before he noticed the soldier give him a friendly grin.

“Don’t worry,” The soldier said, lowering his writing board, “the Inquisition is not here to discriminate. We take anyone willing to risk their lives for the cause.” His eyes went soft, as he seemed to sympathize with Dorian. “I was a thief in Denerim before I joined. I’m not one to judge. Thank you for volunteering, Ser. Serah.”

The soldiers each gave a respectful bow before starting off to the next house. The one with the writing board called over his shoulder, “We’ll knock again when we’re ready to head off to Skyhold. Please be ready. You need only to bring your personal effects; we will have weapons and armor for you there.”

Miss Ella quickly closed the door and grabbed Dorian by the shoulders. “What are you doing? I thought you were hiding out! This is a sure way to bring attention to yourself, boy!”

Though she shook him lightly, she was not angry as Dorian looked in her eyes. The only thing he saw there was fear and worry. For him; for his safety.

Dorian took her hands in his and smiled reassuringly, “I’ll be ok. I can handle myself in a fight. Besides, what was I supposed to do, let them take you away from your livelihood? That hardly seems right.”

Miss Ella continued to look him in the eye for a time, all the while tears starting to well, before they eventually fell and she wrapped her arms around his waist in a tight hug. “Thank you so much, dear. I just hope they keep you safe from whatever you were running from. Maybe one day you’ll be free of fear, and you can tell me everything.”

__________

Finally at Skyhold, the entire cart full of recruits gazed upon the glory of their new home for the foreseeable future, everyone taken aback by the size of the castle. Once through the gates, Dorian found himself being shuffled through a group of anxious troops, somehow ending up near the front of the crowd. Just as he began to wonder what all the fuss was about, the entire mass fell silent, standing mostly at attention.

A pale skinned man with thick blond hair strode up to the group of recruits, his presence alone demanding full attention. As he scanned the crowd, seemingly impressed with the number of volunteers, he momentarily locked eyes with Dorian.

The mage immediately froze, holding his breath as the blond’s eyes studied him. It seemed like minutes before their eyes met again, the blond saying kindly, “Welcome to the Inquisition.”

Dorian didn’t realize the blond was addressing the whole group, and not just him, until the entire mass said in unison, “Ser, yes, Ser.”

Dorian jumped at the roar, averting his gaze to his feet. The rest of the blond’s speech went by as a mumble, Dorian only picking out a few things. “I am your commander,” “thank you for your service,” “we are all fighting for the same cause,” etcetera.

“Those of you who are weary from the journey may feel free to retire to the barracks and claim a bunk. Make certain your items are secure and accounted for. As for those anxious to begin your service, please follow my associate Seeker Cassandra; she will give a brief tour of the grounds.” The blond gestured to a broad and powerful woman, who already appeared annoyed. “As she will be assisting me in your training, I expect you all to treat her with the same respect and authoritative recognition as you would me.”

The blond Commander took a final look over the troops before dismissing them to follow Cassandra or head to the beds. But just as Dorian followed after the retiring group, he heard a gentle summons.

“You there, mage.”

Dorian turned to see the Commander watching him with a careful eye. “Dorian, Ser.” He answered.

“Ser Dorian,” The Commander let the name roll on his tongue for a moment before continuing, causing Dorian’s breath to hitch in his throat. “I understand you’re an apostate.”

Dorian let out his held breath in a deep sigh, nearly rolling his eyes. “Yes, I am. Ser. I don’t suppose you’re going to turn me in to your recent allies?” He crossed his arms and lifted a brow, challenging the blond standing several feet from him.

The Commander narrowed his eyes, “I certainly wasn’t planning on it.” He slowly closed the distance between the two of them in several long strides, saying in a low tone, “Unless you’re going to have a problem with my authority, Ser Dorian.”

With the blond so close, Dorian felt his heart speed up. Something about his presence made Dorian feel held in place. Not as if he was trapped, simply that he couldn’t make himself step away.

Dorian scanned his eyes over the Commander’s form, noticing the Chantry insignia on his bracers. Ah, Dorian thought, he plans on taking care of me himself.

“Not unless you’re going to play those little Templar tricks to dispel my magic when I’m simply trying to warm my tea.” Dorian could have sworn he saw the corner of the Commander’s lips curl up at his accurate observation.

“That would just be rude. No, I wanted to inform you that, despite my past, I have very little patience for discrimination.” The Commander's eyes scanned over Dorian's body once more, “If anyone says anything, does anything, or even looks at you in a way that makes you suspect ill intent, do let me know. They’ll be dealt with discreetly.”

Dorian wasn’t sure how to feel; between the Commander’s word choice and his eyes wondering Dorian’s physique, he felt maybe the blond knew his preferences just by looking at him. Did he have to be more worried about that than being an apostate? Though Dorian knew little about the south, he knew even less about their feelings on…sexual endeavors. More specifically, who you ventured those endeavors with.

Dorian hadn’t realized how long he’d been staring at the Commander without answering until the blond tilted his brow up. “That is an order, Ser Dorian.”

He was shaken from his trance by the mention of his name in a soothingly gentle voice; surprising for a man in his militant position. “Yes, Ser.” Dorian responded quickly, eager to have the Commander’s caressing gaze off him.

The blond smiled, seemingly content with the response. “Good. And don’t be afraid to approach me.” He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice even more to an impossibly comforting near-purr, “I don’t bite.” He grinned reassuringly.

Perhaps I’d rather you did, Dorian thought, admiring the Commander’s gait as he strode off, heading for his office.

In the barracks Dorian chose a bed, near to the wall to prop his staff and hang his pack, filled only with a few herbs for mixing potions and a book or two.

Though his sleep was fitful, he woke more or less prepared for training the next morning, those blasted birds even louder in the mountains than Miss Ella's valley farmland. Their loud singing mixed with the shuffle of new troops preparing for training woke Dorian far earlier than he would have liked. But he hurried along, seeing he was one of the last troops to rise, and made it to the training grounds just as the sun rose above the horizon.

He had eyes on him the moment he walked onto the grounds, scared young men and women glaring at him and eyeing the ornament on the end of his staff, watching cautiously as magic flowed through the crystal gem, all originating from Dorian’s fingertips. All the looks, the suspicion, made him feel as though he was not exactly blending in like he had hoped. He scanned his fellow soldiers, finding most were pale. Those with dark skin like his seemed no less acclimated to his presence. Their undertones were all cold blues and greys, making Dorian’s red-brown skin stand out in an unnatural, if stunning, manner against the natives.

As Dorian felt more and more uncomfortable in his own skin for the first time in years, a voice echoed off the fortress walls from behind him.

“You’re late.” Dorian turned to find the Commander stalking toward him, free of his armor and only covered by simple leather trousers. His chest was dusted in scars of all sizes; some reaching from collar bone to hip, one leading Dorian’s eye down a mischievous path to the Commander’s laces.

“Did the bells not wake you? Perhaps I should make that your responsibility; to wake and ring the bells for everyone else to hear? Since they seem not to faze you.”

Dorian scoffed, “I suppose you would like all your men to be late as well, then? If I were in charge of the bells, we’d all be waking half past tea.”

The Commander seemed equally confused and annoyed with Dorian’s flippant nature, seemingly having no respect, no regard for his position.

As he closed the distance in a quick stride, Dorian simply crossing his arms and sighing, almost bored by the interaction, he said lowly, “Fall in line before I make an example out of you.”

Dorian, sifting his words through his head, began carefully evaluating his next move. While he didn’t enjoy being told what to do, and very much enjoyed testing people’s patience, he decided against saying anything at all, taking several steps back and lining up with the other troops.

The Commander relaxed his shoulders, turning slowly to take his place in front of the herd. As he glanced back to face his troops again, and saw Dorian at the front line of their formations, he quickly changed his mind.

“Alright Ser Dorian, since you seem to enjoy being the center of attention, perhaps you would like to help me demonstrate some defensive maneuvers.”

Dorian tensed. While he was proud of his magical knowledge and ability, he knew things the average Ferelden mage most certainly would not. He had to be careful of what spells he used, as not to let on too much or attract attention.

But he relaxed as he saw the Commander reach for an extra sword and shield, gesturing for Dorian to step forward. He stabbed his staff into the ground and sauntered up to take the weapons. As he did, the Commander asked quietly, “You do know which end to hold it by, don’t you?”

Before Dorian could think, he grinned and responded in a flirtatious tone, “I’ve had plenty of experience handling swords, Commander.”

The Commander stared at him blankly as a slight rosy color filled his cheeks, then cleared his throat as he handed the sword off to Dorian.

“How much experience do you have with shield work?” The Commander asked, getting into a proper fighting stance.

Dorian mimicked his movements, obviously less confident with a sword and shield. “Certainly less than with staff blades and staff defense,” he muttered.

The Commander nodded once. “Let us spar—so that I can evaluate what you know—then, we’ll try it again with your staff. All I want you to do is defend.” The troops drew closer, forming a circle like a fighting ring around the two. “Don’t let me into your personal space.”

Dorian wanted to make a suggestive remark about his personal space, but the time was lost as the blond charged at him with speed and an unfair amount of force. Dorian dodged and defended as best he could with what little knowledge he had while the Commander showed no mercy, but ultimately, in only a matter of seconds, the blond had managed to disarm him and enter his space.

They were nearly chest to chest, Dorian breathing somewhat heavily while the Commander hadn’t even broken a sweat.

“Your movements are arrogant,” he announced, loudly for the rest of the troops to hear, “despite having no idea what you are doing, clearly. While half of defense is confidence, not showing your enemy weakness, it is not the whole fight.”

He stepped away from Dorian, acquiring his stance once more. “Again,” the Commander proclaimed, “with your staff this time.”

Dorian smirked as he pulled his staff blade out of the soil, poising himself for a good fight. He knew this was about physical defense, no magic involved, but by the Maker if he wouldn’t fight back.

The Commander once again charged at him, but this time Dorian knew what to do. He twirled his staff, directing the sword’s momentum away and back to the Commander, using his own power against him. Aside from a huff of disapproval, the blond went unfazed, using the off-railed momentum to carry his shield arm forward, bashing Dorian’s staff in an attempt to throw him off balance. But Dorian stabbed his staff blade into the ground, stopping the blond’s shield dead in its tracks. The Commander pressed forward, waiting for Dorian to inevitably lift his staff and take the force.

Rather than lift his staff, Dorian used it as leverage to swing his body around and kick the unsuspecting Commander’s sword from his hand. Unfortunately for Dorian, his opponent was ambidextrous, catching the sword in his left hand and switching the shield to his right. At this point, the Commander was visibly annoyed, putting more force into his blows, testing the mage’s strength. Dorian held his position for as long as he could, motivated by the troops’ shocked mumbling to one another.

Finally, after several minutes, the Commander’s sword came down on the blade of Dorian’s staff, throwing off the momentum and leaving Dorian open for the Commander to once again step into his space.

After this round, however, they were both panting, a sheen of sweat lightly reflecting on the blond’s chest. Dorian kept his eyes up, staring intently into the Commander’s.

“Much better,” He said flatly. “You use your staff as an extension of yourself. You know not only the magical maneuvers, but the physical ones as well. You still need to work on paying more attention to your opponent, and less to your own actions. They should come as second nature, as I’m sure your magic does.” The Commander backed away once again, relaxing his grip on his weapons. “Well done, overall. I’ve worked with and against many mages and, routinely, close combat was their weakness.” He scanned Dorian from head to toe, shrugging slightly. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say I’m impressed, but…” extending his hand out to Dorian, “I respect your ability.”

A nearly collective gasp came from the audience of troops around them, all surprised at Dorian’s redemption. From problem recruit, to Commander-respected mage. Perhaps Dorian had nothing to worry about after all.

He took the blond’s outstretched hand and shook it lightly, bowing his head with thanks and returned respect.

“Now then,” the Commander signaled for the troops to regroup into previous formation, “While we have mages among our ranks, many of you would not find the maneuvers performed by Ser Dorian particularly useful, unless you plan on fighting nonlethally.” A quiet chuckle simmered through the troops.

“For the majority of your sakes, I will have my associate Cassandra help me with your training. I warn you, she is a stickler for form. And rightfully so, as it could mean your life…”

The rest of training went by with little incident, other than the occasional calling out and embarrassing of inept recruits. And by the end of the session, nearing lunch, everyone was exhausted.

As the mass headed off for the dining hall, dismissed reluctantly by the Lady Seeker, Dorian saw from the corner of his eye the Commander and Seeker talking in hushed voices, glancing occasionally in his direction.

I’ll speak with him, he made out from the Commander’s lip movements. After nodding and donning a linen shirt, Dorian watched from his peripheral vision as the blond closed in on him.

“Ser Dorian,” he placed a light hand on the mage’s shoulder, “Could I speak with you a moment?”

Dorian acted surprised, even going so far as to ask, “Am I in some sort of trouble?”

The Commander chuckled, “Not at all. Performing well in front of your peers in nothing to be punished for. However, on the topic of your performance, I wanted to ask you a few questions.”

Dorian’s breath hitched. Kaffas, they’re getting suspicious, he thought to himself, trying not to appear alarmed.

The Commander led him away from the hungry glob of languid recruits and in the direction of a more private location, beginning to ask several questions along the way.

“So, if you don’t mind my asking, where did you learn to fight with a staff?” he asked nonchalantly, hands clasped behind his back in a relaxed manner.

“I went to a very prestigious academy; one where our days were filled with nothing but magical and alchemical training. More general teachings—reading, writing, arithmetic—were expected to be taught in the household between school hours.” Dorian explained, leaving out any details that could be traced to Tevinter.

The Commander nodded, humming in understanding before asking, “In Orlais? I read in your recruitment form you were born and raised there.”

“Indeed,” Dorian knew quite a bit about Orlais, and spoke a bit of Orlesian, so he supposed he could continue this lie rather well. “I was lucky to be born to a noble family.”

“I’ve never heard of the Rider family.” The Commander stated bluntly, making Dorian’s heart jump a little.

“Well,” he began, spinning a believable story in his head, “we were unfortunately, when I was rather young, stripped of our finances by a business partner who ran off with my parents’ money. The rest appears to be history.”

The Commander narrowed his eyes, taking Dorian up and down once again. “I prefer my history well documented.”

Before Dorian could comment, a runner jogged toward them, handing off a stack of papers.

“Commander! New reports for you, Ser. Spymaster says they’re not urgent, but could be useful.”

The blond sighed and skimmed several of the papers, a lock of frazzled hair falling in front of his face. He rolled his eyes, handing the papers back to the runner, “Useful seems an over statement. Jim, take these to my office and tell Leliana, respectfully, this matter is a waste of my time.”

The runner nervously nodded, jogging off from whence he came. The Commander sighed and pressed his thumb to the bridge of his nose as he thought aloud quietly, “I am not the negotiator, that is Josephine’s job and it should remain her job if we are all to stay sane…”

He dropped his hand after a moment with a deep sigh before turning to Dorian. “I apologize, Ser Dorian, but I’ve work to do before the next bout of training. If you’ll excuse me.”

“Certainly, Commander…?” Dorian waited for a reply.

“Cullen. Always Commander Cullen, of course.”

“Of course,” Dorian agreed. “Until this afternoon, Commander Cullen.” He gave a graceful bow, the Commander simply ducking his head slightly in acknowledgement before they parted ways.

__________

Dorian tossed and turned that night, nerves and nightmares drilling deep into his conscience. He woke with a start, finding his fellow troops all still asleep, gentle blue moonlight shining through the slit of a window. Determined to clear his mind and be able to go back to sleep before training that morning, Dorian set off for the battlements.

After climbing the steps, passing the few troops on night watch, Dorian found a good spot to clear his head, out of the path of patrolling guards. He leaned against the stone wall and hung his head over, propping himself up on his elbows. He sighed, hoping his nerves would leave with his breath and leave him his confident self once again. But the worry continued; worry about being found out, about being dragged back home, about dying a face in the crowd, no one knowing him for what he wanted to stand for. A man against the fear mongering of his homeland, a man against the all-ruling wants of the Imperium, the good Tevinter.

But above all else, he worried about dying before he could prove to himself that he deserved all that recognition.

Just as the feeling of existentialism began to consume him, he heard a sudden voice from behind him, gentle and light. Soft, in a way.

“Shouldn’t you be getting some rest? You trained hard yesterday, you deserve it.”

Dorian jumped and turned to see the person speaking to him. He found the Commander, once again in linens, leaning in the doorway to what Dorian assumed was his office.

“I don’t mean to interrupt your brooding,” Cullen said apologetically, coming to lean against the battlement walls as well. “I heard walking around out here, and the guards don’t patrol this close to my office. I thought maybe there was trouble. Was I correct?”

Dorian smiled gently, looking out over the mountains again, “If I’m deserving of a rest, you are far beyond deserving. Letting recruits wail on you for hours? You must be tired.”

Cullen took a deep breath, letting it out as he spoke, “They don’t know nearly enough to have actually done any damage. I’ve certainly taken worse.”

They stayed silent for a moment before Cullen spoke again, “But you didn’t answer me.”

Dorian looked at him curiously.

“Is there trouble?”

Dorian chuckled, letting out a breathy laugh and ducking his head. “No, I’m just a bit sleepless. It’s nothing new, nothing I can’t cope with.”

Cullen nodded, quiet for a moment, before saying, “With all due respect, Ser Dorian, I don’t believe you.”

Those were not words Dorian needed to hear. They only added to his nervousness over being found out. He wanted to get out of there, quickly. “I suppose I should head off then, back to bed. Don’t want to be late for morning training again.”

“There’s no curfew, you know. Well, the tavern closes an hour after sunset, but there’s no rule saying you can’t wander the grounds.”

Dorian wasn’t sure how to continue, still poised to walk away.

“Would you mind if we talked a moment?” Cullen asked innocently, gesturing to his office.

Dorian reluctantly entered the Commander’s office and took a seat.

“Our ambassador looked into your ‘noble family’, by the way.” Cullen uttered as he closed the door, sauntering over to his desk and pulling Dorian’s recruitment form out to place in front of the mage.

He was fucked, he knew it. They found out who he really was and they were going to assume he was a Venatori spy, interrogate him for information, maybe even kill him.

“Only noble Rider family in Orlais was over two hundred years ago and they died out from inherited illness. So…” Cullen lowered himself into his seat, propping his elbows on the desk and placing his head on his wound hands, “Why did you lie?”

Dorian looked through the papers in front of him; his recruitment form, his payment contract, the information dug up on the Riders, but found nothing about his true identity. Did they not figure out who he really was? Was Cullen keeping the information from him to catch him in another lie? Dorian took a deep breath before testing his luck.

“I was staying with an old friend of mine in the Hinterlands when your recruiters came knocking. My friend manages her land all on her own—it isn’t much, but she’s not as spry as younger folk—and I came to help her. The recruiters were insistent that she ‘volunteer’ or that she sign for a draft. Obviously, she can’t leave her crops and animals to parish, so I offered to go in her place, on behalf of her household.”

Dorian held his breath, waiting for Cullen to react.

The blond took a breath before restating, “Your friend is older and you wanted to make sure she wouldn’t lose her land by being drafted?”

Dorian nodded, still barely breathing.

Cullen pursed his lips and slowly bobbed his head, glancing back down to Dorian’s papers.

Finally, he opened his mouth to speak, “My recruiters were trying to force her to volunteer? Or sign for the draft? That goes against their orders, which are, simply, to spread the word of our cause and take those who volunteer for a draft, if necessary, or to join the ranks.”

Dorian let out his breath, slowly as to not let on how truly relieved he was. Cullen had not only accepted his story, but truly seemed to believe it. Not all of it was a lie, in fact most of it was true, if not laid in truth.

“Let me ask next, did you give us her name when volunteering? Or some other alias?” Cullen raised his brows like a disappointed parent catching their child in a lie.

Dorian knew giving his real name would give him away and possibly get him killed, so he instead continued the lie. “No, my name is Dorian Rider, however I don’t believe there’s any relation to the Orlesian family. As far as I know, my roots are in Antiva. However, I do not know much about my heritage. My family…” He cringed at the little truth he was about to slip in, “My family disowned me for not following their life plans for me. I only know where my parents were born.”

Cullen’s eyes went soft, emotion slipping through his interrogation mask. “I…I am truly sorry. That’s something I’ve been lucky enough to never have experienced. I won’t press the matter.”

Dorian nodded in thanks, his heart finally settling.

“While your intent was in good standing,” Cullen said, running his hands through his natural curls, “I must still report this as misconduct. You could have worse; I’m going rather easy on you for this sort of misdemeanor. I expect I will not regret my decision, Ser Dorian?”

Dorian nodded, just relieved the whole confrontation was over.

“Good, then I believe everything is settled,” Cullen stated, leading Dorian to the door.

As Dorian began to hurry off, Cullen called after him, “And Ser Dorian!”

Dorian turned to listen.

“I said while sparring I would not go so far as to say I was impressed with your performance. It seems I told a bit of a lie myself.”

Cullen gave a knowing look before closing the door to his office.

__________

After several days of following a simple routine—getting up at the arse-crack of dawn, training for the morning, eating lunch, then training until sundown—Dorian began to feel comfortable with his new surroundings. Since his impressive display sparring with the Commander, people had begun to respect him, addressing him politely as he passed, even if Dorian was hardly their acquaintance. He felt good, confident in himself once again, and sure his secret was completely safe.

As he wandered the courtyard, clearing his mind after a lackluster lunch with the other recruits, Dorian noticed an elf with a powerful stance, Dalish markings on his skin, approaching him with purpose in his step.

“Dorian Rider, yes? I’ve heard much about you from your fellow troops; and our Commander himself.”

“Inquisitor!” Dorian suddenly realized, only having seen the man from a distance before now, “It’s an honor. And I’m happy to have good things said about me.” He bowed, low and respectful.

The elf scoffed, “Please, enough with the formalities. I was hoping to speak with you, if I could.” He gestured forward, in the direction of the main hall.

“Of course,” Dorian answered as he followed, only a slight nervousness rising in his chest.

When they arrived in the hall, few people occupying the echoing space, the Inquisitor began to ask, “From all I’ve seen and heard, you have quite a talent for magic and fighting. While all mages are technically apostates now, I understand you were an apostate before all the in-fighting broke out. Is that correct?”

Dorian nodded, thinking he knew where this was going. “I was indeed. While I won’t claim to be better than a Circle mage, I do believe I had the opportunity to learn many magic forms the Chantry might frown on. Excluding blood magic, of course. A disgusting use of power.” Dorian shuddered slightly, remembering its uses in Tevinter politics.

“Absolutely. You seem an upstanding man, one who would not abuse the privilege of living outside the Circle.” The Inquisitor sauntered slowly toward a door at the side of the hall, pushing it open and beckoning Dorian through. Dorian obliged, waiting in the short corridor before holding the second door open for the elf.

“Among my people blood magic is considered savage and unnatural, as many others feel, Circle mage or no. While I believe the Circle has a place, I do not believe it is to control or constrict mages, but to teach them and help them learn to control themselves and their own power. From what Commander Cullen has told me about Kirkwall, I think the Circle has driven more mages to consider dark magicks as a means to escape. Horrifying things they may never have even conceived of if given more freedom.”

The elf seemed oddly adamant for a non-mage, making Dorian slightly suspicious as to where the conversation was headed. But as the Inquisitor led them to a massive room with a massive map table, Dorian felt there would be no trouble today.

Several men stood behind the map table, some Dorian recognized as the Inquisitor’s associates, and others he’d seen around Skyhold with no context as to who they were.

“I’d like to introduce you to some of my most trusted members and friends of the Inquisition.” The elf gestured forward with a sweeping motion, triggering everyone to bow their heads and smile.

“Firstly, Solas, who has been with us from the beginning, helping me cope with the Anchor and studying its power.”

The tall slender elf smiled softly, “It is a pleasure, Ser Dorian.”

“Secondly—of course you know him—our Commander, Cullen, leader of our forces, ex-Templar, currently slowly dying from lyrium withdrawal he never told me about.” The Inquisitor eyed him angrily as the Commander gave a sheepish smile, muttering some sort of apology.

“And of course, the roguish duo of Varric and his little shadow Cole.”

The Dwarf waved as he continued to tune up his crossbow, saying casually, “Good to meet you, pretty boy.”

The young man behind him, on the other hand, looked Dorian curiously in the eyes before uttering, “You’re different inside your head: lacking, loathing, lonely; soft words never enough, but harsh words too harsh to heal.”

Dorian gave the Inquisitor a side glance, eyes wide with surprise. “Um, yeah. He does…that.” The Inquisitor apologized.

Dorian nodded tentatively to each of them before saying quietly to the Inquisitor, “While it’s lovely to meet everyone, I’m not quite sure I understand what this is about.”

The elf chuckled as he approached the war table and walked around to join his colleagues on the other side. “I, Eridan Levellan, would like to personally induct you into my inner circle, to join me and my allies—and closest friends—in the monumental task of keeping the Inquisition afloat and keeping our allies, and prospective allies, satisfied and compliant.”

Dorian’s jaw fell open in shock, meaning to say something, but at a loss for words.

The Inquisitor laughed again, “Allow me to explain my reasoning: Cullen and Cassandra told me about your skill with fighting and magic after your first display, and have kept me up to date on your progress and ability as it’s been relieved to us through your training. While I am incredibly glad to have you among our forces, I think your skill could be better put to use in the field, when it’s just me and a small group out and about.”

He pulled Cole and Varric into his side, arms around their shoulders and a hand on Solas’s arm as he stated, “While I have other members in my inner circle, these three are the ones who most often join me on my personal missions. Providing immediate aid, closing rifts, dealing with people’s weird family problems in exchange for supplies and alliance—we see it all, and it’s all dangerous. I think I could use someone with your talent out with me, watching my back!”

The short, and surprisingly stocky elf seemed incredibly excited about the concept, raising his eyebrows to question Dorian, imploring him to accept the offer.

When Dorian hesitated, Solas spoke up, voice soft and reassuring, “If I am to have an opinion in the matter, I would be delighted to work with another mage interested in the magicks not taught within any Circle. As an apostate myself, I chose to study spirits and ancient magicks, finding lost pieces of history in the fade as I dreamt. Many mages from the Circle believe this means I have made pacts with demons, and explaining my innocent intentions becomes tiresome. I, for one, would welcome the addition of a like minded apostate into our ranks.”

“The only apostate I ever met escaped from the Circle and it’s all he ever talked about. ‘Templars this, rebellion that.’ Had an insane spirit living in him, too. I’d like to spend time with less crazy mages,” Varric chimed in.

“You think about acceptance, but have never come to expect it. I’ve seen the dangers, lived with them. If that’s acceptance, I would have to change for it. Would I be myself after that?...” Cole was suddenly next to him, despite being under the Inquisitor’s arm only a second ago.

“Sweet Andra—! Can you not do that?” Dorian exclaimed, almost jumping away.

“Don’t mind him. He’s some kind of ‘good’ spirit. He doesn’t really understand boundaries.” The Inquisitor said, coming around the war table to pull Cole away by the wrist.

Cullen’s voice, the softest of everyone’s, gained Dorian’s attention immediately, “As the one who recommended this to begin with, I of course think you should accept. You have a wonderful talent that I can’t use among my troops. It seems a pity to waste it under my command.” He gave an encouraging smile, making Dorian’s mind up instantly.

“Inquisitor, it would be an honor to be part of your inner circle. I accept.”

The Inquisitor practically cheered, ushering everyone out so he could explain what would be expected of Dorian. Dorian listened intently, making sure to joke with the elf to gain his trust and form a feeling of comradery.

After stepping out of the war room, Dorian found Cullen waiting for him, leaning against the ambassador’s empty desk, standing upright when Dorian entered the room.

“I’m happy to hear you’ll be traveling with the Inquisitor from now on. As I said before, I truly think your skills will be better suited in the field.” Cullen extended his hand to offer congratulations.

Dorian took it in a confident grasp, giving a single solid shake. “I appreciate the referral. I’m certain it will surprise you to hear, but not many people appreciate my efforts.”

Cullen chuckled, “I can certainly relate; there have been times in my life where I felt the same. Looking back…” the Commander trailed off slightly, “Well, I’m not so certain anymore that my efforts deserved to be appreciated.”

“I assume you mean your time as a Templar?”

The blond sighed, rubbing nervously at the back of his neck, “Yes. I followed faithfully, but I realize now I was not following the right path.”

Dorian smiled, understanding completely, “Believe me, Commander, I know the feeling.”

They were both quiet for a moment before Cullen asked, shyly, “Would you mind if I asked…?”

“My family. What my family had planned for me, for the rest of my life. I followed as faithfully as I could until…” Dorian looked at his feet, eyes full of pain, trying to avoid Cullen noticing. “Until I was older and understood what they expected of me. After I dared to defy them one too many times…”

Dorian stopped. He couldn’t say anymore. Yes, it might give him away, but that wasn’t why he couldn’t speak. He knew, he remembered what his father was willing to do to change his preferences, and it hurt too much to say out loud. The man he thought had his best interests at heart turned out to only care about himself. Saying it out loud was like admitting a truth Dorian didn’t want to accept.

Cullen tried to look him in the eyes, touching his hand ever so gently to gain his attention. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s alright, I’m learning to accept it. It just…isn’t fun to talk about.” Dorian gave a pained smile.

Cullen sighed, dropping his hand from Dorian’s in favor of rubbing at his neck again, “I know. One’s past shapes who they are and who they become. Sometimes it’s difficult to accept who you were…”

Dorian saw the familiarity in Cullen’s gaze—distant and unsure—and heard the regret in his tone, but decided not to push the matter.

“Or, uh, who your parents were, I mean. I-I’m sure you’ve always been this wonderful. A wonderful person, that is! Good, uh, good moral standing, and all that.” Cullen’s face was very quickly getting red as he tried to avoid eye contact and stutter through his explanation.

Dorian chuckled, taking pity on the blond. “I understood what you meant, Commander, no worries.”

“Cullen.”

“Pardon?”

The Commander looked up suddenly, looking directly into Dorian’s eyes. He hadn’t noticed before that they were nearly gold. “Call me Cullen. You’re no longer under my command, so please: just Cullen.” He smiled so genuinely that Dorian almost forgot to respond.

“Oh, yes, well…” he laughed a little more to fill the silence as he thought. “I suppose I like the title. It suits you.”

Cullen smiled sheepishly, the blush coming back, less strong this time. “As you wish, Ser Dorian.”

Dorian rolled his eyes, shifting his weight to a more casual stance, finally feeling comfortable, “Now you’re just teasing me.”

Cullen poorly faked a look of offence, “Tease? Never!”

“Mm, you should work on your poker face, Commander.” Dorian couldn’t help but smile a bit.

Cullen laughed with him before the two fell silent again, neither wanting to leave, but neither knowing what to say.

“I…I wanted to ask a while ago, but I didn’t want the other recruits to think I was giving you special treatment: would you care to continue sparring when neither of us is busy? As odd as it may sound, I enjoyed the challenge.” Cullen seemed to be looking anywhere but ahead, avoiding Dorian’s eyes.

Dorian grinned, also avoiding eye contact, feeling like a childish school boy dodging around outright flirting with one another. “I would like that, actually.”

The two agreed on a time and place, and parted ways for the rest of the day. Dorian wandered a while until he saw the Inquisitor again, casually asking about continuing to sleep in the barracks.

“Oh! We can find you more private quarters if you like. I certainly wouldn’t want to live with a bunch of other people if I didn’t have to. Talk to Josephine, our Ambassador; she’ll find an open room for you.”

And so Dorian did, and by the end of the day, he had moved his belongings to a small—but comfortable—room with a view of the tavern and gardens. Right off the side of the main hall, and up a few flights of stairs, Dorian’s door opened to a balcony where he could see everything. While he knew these rooms were meant for visiting guests, and it may not be a permanent living situation, he had to admit it felt good to have his own space again. He did what had to be done to survive—slept in inns, travelers’ camps, worked odd jobs before finding Miss Ella’s farm— but it certainly wasn’t the lifestyle he was used to.

But that lifestyle was far out of reach now. As he sat on the edge of his new bed, mindlessly sorting his collection of magical trinkets, he wondered if life would have been better if he went along with his family’s plan to begin with. Marry the girl, have another mage son, continue living a lie for the rest of his life. He often told himself it would have been easier, but that wasn’t true. How could it be easy to deny your true self for your entire life? How could it be easy to force yourself to have sex with someone you could never be attracted to until you finally had a child?

How could it be easier than leaving everything you’ve ever known behind? That was difficult enough on its own.

“I don’t know;” he thought aloud, “how could it be harder?”

“Harder?”

Dorian jumped, conjuring a small flame in his palm on instinct, letting it fizzle as he saw the Commander in the doorway, leaning casually on the doorframe.

“Hey, it’s alright,” Cullen said, extending his hand out as he carefully approached, “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I just thought I would come see how you were adjusting. All this, it must be a bit of a transition.”

Dorian’s palm quickly cooled as he let out a long breath, slowly calming down from the scare. “It certainly is. I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but it seems so sudden. Too sudden.”

Cullen chuckled, “I’d say you’ve earned it. But of course I would, I made the suggestion. How do you feel about it all?” he cocked his head on a slight angle, like a curious dog.

Dorian gestured for the Commander to sit next to him, the blond taking a tentative seat. “It’s odd. Coming here the way I did. Knowing what I came from—money, power, having to exceed expectations if you wanted to get anywhere in life…it was so stressful, and running away from it all was so stressful. And now…”

Dorian turned his head to see Cullen’s innocent golden eyes filled with understanding, knowing just as well what it was like to run from the only life you’d ever known. He found himself entranced, forgetting everything as he lost himself in wisdom-filled, pained eyes that reminded him of his own, a tired glaze darkening the once bright shine of hope they held years ago.

“And now?” Cullen repeated, hardly voicing the words.

The moment felt so intimate; the bed was somewhat small, so they were seated close, leaning toward each other. Cullen’s hand was pressed to the bed to support him as he leaned, placed right behind Dorian. It almost felt like they were embraced without touching each other. He felt comfortable, so comfortable he couldn’t even bring himself to question what was happening. So he simply let the moment linger. It didn’t feel awkward, it didn’t feel drawn out. It just felt…comfortable.

It seemed like an eternity before Cullen’s leg gently bumped his, the blond letting the tips of his fingers rest on Dorian’s thigh. He wasn’t sure what the intent of the action was, but it only made Dorian lose himself more. At first he was just lost in the ex-Templar’s eyes. Now he could see the entirety of him, inside and out. And after scanning over his body, Dorian’s eyes locked on to the blond’s lips. The room froze, time froze. Dorian saw Cullen’s adam’s apple bob as he swallowed harshly, obviously wanting more than just Dorian’s eyes on his lips.

Dorian let himself move closer, just a bit, and Cullen did the same.

“And now,” Dorian’s voice was somewhere below a whisper, “things almost feel easy.”

“They could be,” Cullen’s voice was even, giving nothing away. Dorian wished there was some sort of hoarseness, wobbliness, something in his voice that made it clear what was happening here.

But Dorian wasn’t sure. He needed to be certain before he outed himself here. In Ferelden, in the Inquisition, in this moment with Cullen. He needed to be certain.

So he backed off, leaning away again and closing his eyes. He heard the Commander sigh next to him and clear his throat, shifting away.

“You sound like you have a lot on your mind,” Cullen sounded disappointed, but by this point Dorian had already convinced himself not taking a chance was the better course of action.

“I can leave you with your thoughts, if you like?”

“For now,” Dorian sighed, “That might be best.”

Cullen nodded, standing and heading for the door. “Until tomorrow?” he asked, audibly confused about their situation.

Dorian smiled gently, “Until tomorrow, Commander.”

__________

Dorian slept only a few hours that night, anxious and almost excited for Cullen and his appointment. He wore something more or less appropriate for sparring, forgoing his Inquisition sanctioned armor in favor of his own. It fit his form in a much more flattering way, and the magical embellishments made it more practical as well. He had a bounce to his step as he exited his room, using his staff halfheartedly like a walking stick as he went.

Before he reached the training grounds, Dorian took the time to admire how empty Skyhold felt. There were a few soldiers on the battlement, tired runners getting back from late errands, even two recruits who thought they were being stealthy while stealing a bottle of ale from the closed tavern. They noticed him, swearing as they sprinted off into the bushes to enjoy their find, and Dorian couldn’t help but chuckle at their youthful behavior.

He felt content. Things were going well. He knew he shouldn’t let his guard down, but Dorian couldn’t force himself to be paranoid in this peaceful moment an hour before dawn. He looked to the sky to see the scar and the moon almost perfectly aligned, about halfway set. He had time.

Just as he took a deep breath, a gentle voice barely rocked him.

“Fancy meeting you here. Any reason you’re up so early?”

Dorian turned to see Cullen with a smirk on his lips and still in full armor, despite normally dressing down to train and spar.

“I believe we had a date, Commander. It appears you may have forgotten, from your dress.” Dorian let Cullen notice as he purposefully drug his gaze over the blond’s physic, deciding against licking his lips. What about the wee hours of the morning made Dorian so openly flirtatious, he would never know. Even when it came to men who otherwise wouldn’t be his first choice, Dorian was always more open minded at the early hours.

Cullen raised a brow under the sensual scrutiny, “Oh, I haven’t forgotten. And I could say the same for you, in your…intricate attire.” He dropped his sword and shield next to him on the ground as he began to remove his upper armor, leaving his boots and trousers alone.

“Oh, do you like it? I would have brought it out sooner if we weren’t made to wear uniforms under your command. Boring, ugly uniforms.” Dorian shuddered dramatically.

Cullen shook his head and smirked as he loosely held his weapons, now shirtless and prepared to spar. “I didn’t assign those uniforms, you can take that up with the Inquisitor. However, I doubt your armor would be very practical when rushing into battle. Too many belts.” He eyed Dorian’s armor, trying to figure out how it worked.

Dorian adopted a pose to show quite a bit of his body, showing himself and the armor off at once. “It’s not nearly as complicated as it looks.” Stated matter-of-factly, before dipping his voice to a more sultry tone, “I could show you if you like. With practice, you could become quite proficient. It doesn’t take me much time to strip out of it all.”

His eyes were lidded as he watched Cullen. The Commander’s expression hardly changed as he said, oh so quietly as usual, “Perhaps I’ll keep that in mind.”

He hadn’t hesitated with his response, and Dorian found himself caught off guard at Cullen’s boldness. Maybe the morning hours had an effect on him as well.

“Well then,” he said, squaring up to Dorian, “How shall we start?”

Dorian followed his lead, “Magic or no magic?”

“None yet. I haven’t had to defend against magic without my—what did you call them? ‘Little Templar tricks’?—in quite some time. I don’t want either of us to get hurt. Perhaps when we have some supervision.”

Dorian sighed and said in an overly exasperated tone, “Shame; I was rather hoping these would be…private sessions.” He winked.

Cullen’s face heated, but it didn’t stop him from responding, “Out in the courtyard? This is hardly private. Now, if you ever show me how to work that ‘armor’ of yours; that I’d consider a private session.”

The morning was chilly, dew freezing on to the grass, but it was warm enough that Dorian should not have visibly shivered. He couldn’t pull any excuse when Cullen noticed. It was obvious what was happening. The blond smirked at him, Dorian trying not to think about the effect Cullen’s flirtations had on him. Not here, and certainly not now. Dorian had designed his armor himself, and liked that it fit in a way that left few things to the imagination, but if this sparring session got a little too handsy, Dorian may be wishing he had worn the Inquisition’s armor instead.

Thankfully, Cullen didn’t mention Dorian’s reaction, and simply started their training, leading with the initial blow as always. Dorian could dodge and throw up wards like there was no tomorrow, but he wanted to train his defense, not just evasion. So he used his staff to block and parry Cullen’s attacks, focusing his mind on observing his opponent, just as Cullen had been telling him to.

Before long, Dorian was focusing less and less on Cullen’s form, attack patterns, or eye line, and more on his body, movement, and gaze.

His eyes seemed sharp, knowing exactly where he wanted to land a blow. His body was under full control, every muscle accounted for and flowing to where his gaze wanted them. He moved with such grace for a warrior; surprisingly loose and agile for all his heavy armor and muscle build.

Dorian had continued to successfully dodge and defend while in his trance, but he hadn’t been holding his ground very well, slowly backing up and losing awareness of where his feet were.

Inevitably, his foot landed on uneven ground and he slipped. But long before he would have hit the ground, Cullen wrapped his arm around the mage’s waist and pulled him back up, their chests flush.

Dorian was tense, not even having realized he’d been falling until Cullen pulled him back. He returned from his thoughts when he heard Cullen’s voice say with an incredible tenderness, “I’ve got you.”

“You certainly have…”

Cullen cocked a brow, gentle smile still donned, as he waited for Dorian to make a move. He wasn’t letting go until Dorian told him to, and Dorian finally had the confirmation he needed to take the risk of making said move. His body relaxed against the Commander’s as he let his arms slide between them, nimble fingers tracing up Cullen’s marred chest. Dorian let his hands rest on either side of the blond’s neck, slowly pulling him forward to let their lips meet.

But just as their lips brushed together, they heard footsteps skid to a halt in front of them.

Cullen sighed and turned his head, growling with frustration, “What!?”

The troop looked stunned, having only just realized what she walked up on. When she failed to answer, the Commander let go of Dorian’s waist and marched slowly, intimidatingly toward the recruit, nostrils flared and steps heavy. The young woman backed away with her hands close to her face as if Cullen might actually hurt her. Dorian couldn’t blame her for thinking he might; the blond certainly wasn’t calm.

“I-I’m so sorry Ser, I just w-wanted to be e-early—”

“What do you think the bells are for? So you can wake up before them? If you showed up to battle early, do you know what would happen?”

“I don’t—”

“It would be you against an army, with your fellow soldiers miles behind you. You would be dead before you even had time to scream.”

The poor girl was shaking by this point, trying to stutter an apology through wobbly breath.

Cullen closed his eyes tightly, grumbling as he pressed his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. “While I appreciate your incentive,” he began after he calmed down, “I expect you all here exactly when I say. Not a second later, nor a second sooner. Don’t be early, be on time.”

He looked apologetically to the girl as she continued to quiver. Cullen placed a hand on her shoulder and turned her around, gently prodding her back toward the barracks. She walked off slowly, still in shock.

Dorian smiled and shook his head, arms crossed, as Cullen sauntered back over to him with an embarrassed blush, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“That poor young woman is going to have nightmares” Dorian looked at Cullen accusingly, but he couldn’t help smiling at how ridiculous the whole situation was.

“I’m going to have to apologize to her later. I think I ruined the moment more than her seeing us did.” Cullen’s blush reached from the tips of his ears all the way down his neck and to the bottom of his collarbone.

Dorian chuckled and stepped closer to Cullen again, placing a hand on his cheek only to be greeted with the heat of his blush. “Perhaps we can bring it back before the bells. Unless you’d like to frighten a few more of your troops this morning? Show them who’s boss, etcetera?”

Cullen scoffed a little, but he was smiling. How could he not be, when Dorian was gently caressing his face and coaxing him into a kiss? He replaced his hand on Dorian’s waist and pressed against him, the mage pulling Cullen in tighter by the biceps.

And, finally, their lips met. Dorian meant for it to be rather chaste, leaving Cullen wanting more, but he couldn’t pull himself away. It wasn’t the same kiss he had gotten a hundred times in Tevinter. It wasn’t a formality during a loveless night together. This kiss was warm and soft, tender and compassionate, much like the man giving it.

Dorian’s hands slid up Cullen’s arms to hold his neck firmly, for fear the blond might pull away before Dorian had gotten the chance to relish the kiss. Cullen let his shield clatter to the ground, wrapping both arms tightly around the mage, hands splayed across his back, trying to feel through the armor. For a moment, Dorian considered removing the upper portion of his armor, so the two could be skin to skin, and he could feel Cullen’s callused hands up and down his back. By the Maker, that’s all he wanted in the moment, but he forced himself to save the stripping for somewhere other than the training grounds.

It almost felt like it lasted for hours by the intensity and the way the sun had risen over the fortress walls in the meantime. What finally broke the kiss was the striking ringing of the morning bells sounding Skyhold to wake up. Both men jumped at the sound, completely forgetting their surroundings while locked in each other’s embrace.

Dorian’s surprised eyes locked with Cullen’s with a matching expression, and both couldn’t help but laugh at their reaction. Cullen’s arms were still around Dorian’s waist, and Dorian’s draped over the Commander’s shoulders comfortably. It wasn’t until the men caught a glimpse of approaching grounds keepers that their embrace fell away, standing back awkwardly from one another before they were discovered.

“I…”

Cullen raised his eyebrows, waiting for Dorian to say something, because he was too stunned to do it himself.

“Thank you. For the sparring, that is. I…enjoyed it.” Dorian didn’t want to believe he was blushing, but he knew blood was rushing to his face.

Cullen smiled, only extending his hand in response. Dorian took Cullen’s hand in a firm grasp, giving a single solid shake. They stared at one another for a moment before Cullen stepped forward, his hold becoming gentle and soft. Eyes still locked with Dorian’s, he pressed a lasting kiss to the back of the man’s hand, the gesture holding more emotion than Dorian knew how to respond to. So, instead, he just smiled and ducked his head.

“So did I.” Cullen said lightly bringing their entwined hands away from his lips.

__________

His mind was in shambles, there was no way he could focus with his heart and head racing like this. Adrenaline had his hands shaking and his legs restless, so he paced. And paced and paced, around the room like it was a stage and all his anxiety and fears were the actors in a play.

But all these were real. Far too real for comfort.

Dorian exasperatedly threw open his door, rushing to the tavern to drown his panic attack away. As he walked—it was more of a jog, if he was honest—he wondered if there was really any reason to be anxious. Had anyone even seen him snogging the Commander? Would it be as scandalous in Ferelden as in Tevinter? While he doubted it, his anxious mind was having none of his logic.

When he entered the Herald’s Rest, it was fairly loud, the Inquisitor and Bull getting rowdy with the Chargers and a few stray recruits. Good, plenty of noise to drown out his thoughts.

Dorian grabbed a seat and a drink and proceeded to drink his feelings.

He hadn’t been counting, but it must have been an hour after he started drinking—and seven drinks in; he had been counting those—before a large and gruff hand smacked him playfully on the shoulder. Dorian jumped, turning quickly and narrowing his eyes. As he looked up, he saw a massive rack of Qunari horns and muscle looming over him, tankard in hand and bare chested.

“How’s it going? You’re that mage who kicked Cullen’s ass, yeah?” he lowered into a chair across the table.

“Is that how the story’s been spun?” Dorian’s words were melding together as he swirled his drink around in its mug.

“Might as well go with it,” the Oxman shrugged. “Better than being known as the undercover Vint, right?”

Dorian immediately sobered, back straightening and voice dropping low. “Who are you? What do you know and what do you want?”

Bull raised his brow, “Not even denying it? I’m guessing you aren’t normally this careless when you’re sober. Don’t think you would have made it this far.”

“Answer me,” Dorian growled through clenched teeth.

Smiling, Bull leaned his beefy arms on the table, dropping his tone as well. “I’m Ben Hassrath. Don’t worry, it’s no secret, actually I think that’s the first thing I said to the Inquisitor,” Bull cleared his throat and adjusted to lean even farther across the table, “It’s my job to read people, know things they would never admit by just looking at them. Besides, you really don’t think a Qunari would recognize a Vint when he sees one?”

Dorian couldn’t think straight; the way Bull talked quietly felt as if he didn’t want to out anything, but why would he bring this up in the first place if he was going to keep it a secret?

“I can pay whatever you want, I come from a very wealthy family. Just name your price and I’ll—”

Bull held up a hand to stop him, “Yeah, your family might be rich, but you’re not, are you? You ran off with the clothes on your back and something expensive to sell, just in case. Isn’t that right?”

Dorian’s mouth hung open as he tried to process the information, the fact that Bull was hitting every nail on the head with no more information than what he could see on Dorian’s face.

“That’s what I thought. And don’t worry, I don’t need you to pay me. I know you’re not Venatori, just a regular cocky mage boy. You won’t hurt anyone, not on purpose anyway.” He leaned back, crossing his arms in triumph, watching as realization washed over Dorian’s face.

“You’re not going to tell the Inquisitor? Or the Inquisition as a whole?”

Bull shrugged, downing the last of his ale, “No point. You’re keeping this a secret for a reason, and it’s a pretty good one. It’s probably what I would do in your shoes.”

Dorian took a moment, then shook his head, “But…you were in my situation. And you told them who you really are.”

Laughter echoed around the tavern as Bull belted out, “Oh, I guess I did, didn’t I?” He let the last of the laughter trickle out in several smaller huffs. “Well, at least the whole world isn’t at war with the Qunari.”

Dorian rolled his eyes, “For once,” he muttered.

Bull sneered at him, “Watch it, Vint boy.”

Dorian sighed a breath of relief, hanging his head in his hands. He had no reason to trust Bull would keep his word, but for now it was enough.

After a moment of relative silence—as silent as it can get in a tavern after dark—Dorian heard the chair across from him creak as Bull leaned forward again.

“So, uh…I can see you have a lot on your mind. Think I could help clear your head a bit?”

Dorian looked up in near disgust. He wasn’t sure it was genuine, more just to keep up the Qunari-Tevinter feud. “I think not.”

Bull shrugged and stood, sauntering back to his Chargers. “Suit yourself. You know where to find me if you change your mind.”

While Dorian had to admit he was curious, he was far too enamored with the Commander, thinking back over and over on their moment in the courtyard that morning.

__________

Paranoia had filled his bones for days, taking over his thoughts and actions. He wanted nothing more than to be alone, do as little as possible that could draw suspicion. He separated himself from the troops, the inner circle, the Inquisitor. Bull, especially.

And he tried to separate himself from Cullen, a major source of his anxiety. But every time he saw the blond walking toward him, with a sweet crooked smile that acknowledged their mutual feelings without bringing them to the forefront of conversation, Dorian could feel his shoulders relax and his mind declutter.

And, of course, it happened again. As Dorian trained in the courtyard, he could see the Commander’s infamous armor out of the corner of his eye. He just stood, watched as Dorian put his magic on display, not necessarily trying to impress anyone, but being impressive nonetheless.

At that point, Dorian was finding it hard to tell if Cullen was watching him out of adoration or suspicion. In an attempt to hide his nerves, Dorian ceased his casting and gave Cullen an exaggerated side glance.

“Enjoying the show, Commander?” He shifted his weight to one hip as he poked his staff into the ground.

Cullen raised his brows innocently, “Show? I was just admiring your form. A natural gift, I’m sure.”

Dorian strode up to where Cullen was leaning against a wall, “My form, he says.” He was tempted to run a hand down the blond’s chest, but chose not to out of fear of passersby noticing.

“I was simply studying how you move for the next time we spar, that’s all.” Cullen’s cheeks were ever so slightly pink.

Dorian grinned, “Is that all you were ‘studying’?” his voice was low and rumbly.

A few seconds passed before Cullen had to look away, his face turning bright red, unable to control a smile. Dorian had to give him props for how long the Commander managed to flirt back.

“I was actually here to ask if you had a bit of spare time,” Cullen’s blush slowly left his cheeks as he spoke, “but I figured I would wait until you were done.”

Dorian tilted his head a bit, “I might, depending on what for.”

“Chess.”

Was the conversation still flirtatious? Was “chess” a euphemism used in the south that Dorian wasn’t aware of?

“Chess?”

Cullen chuckled, “Yes, it’s something I like to do to clear my head, and you’ve seemed…full-headed, let’s say, as of late.”

Dorian huffed a laugh, “That would be one way to put it, yes.”

Cullen smiled and gestured to the garden, “Shall we, then?”

They didn’t say much as they walked to the garden, but Cullen began to explain as he pulled out Dorian’s chair for him, “My sister and I used to play chess against each other in hopes of beating our father one day.” He walked around to take his seat once Dorian was settled. “Eventually, she became even better at the game than Dad, so the new goal was for me to beat her. My brother and I practiced for months, hoping one of us would be able to beat her at least once. The look on her face when I finally won…”

The memory of triumph put the sweetest, most juvenile smile on Cullen’s scarred lips. Dorian couldn’t help but inquire, “A girl and two boys? Sounds like you parents had their work cut out for them.”

“Two girls and two boys, actually. Mia is the eldest, Rosalie is the youngest. I’m the older of us boys, however. Branson is a few years younger than me.”

Dorian scoffed with shock, “Quite a large family, isn’t it? And to think, I have no entertaining sibling stories to share.”

“Only child? You must have been spoiled, getting all the attention.” Cullen moved a piece on the board to start off the match.

Dorian gave a single harsh laugh. “Hardly; if my parents spent money on me, it was for my schooling. Only the most prestigious academies for their little heir.” Dorian rolled his eyes as he made his move, sitting back and crossing his arms after.

Cullen’s expression was so gentle and sympathetic. Dorian didn’t enjoy being pitied, but he knew Cullen wasn’t the type.

“Children should be free to have fun. It wasn’t fair of them to make you work so hard.”

Dorian felt a deep compressed anger bubble up before he said, “Children should be free to have fun, teenagers should be free to have fun, and I believe adults should be free to have fun. We should all just have fun with whomever we want and no one should have the right to judge us for it.”

Arms crossed over his chest, Dorian took a moment to calm down before looking back up to meet Cullen’s gaze. He seemed shocked and a little worried. Dorian looked at him expectantly with eyebrows raised.

“Uh, yes, I agree!” Cullen rushed to assure him, “I’m just not sure where that came from. Is that what’s been bothering you these past few days?”

Dorian sighed, “I suppose it’s part of it. That has been bothering me for most of my life, truthfully.”

The rest of the match was played in silence, Cullen only interjecting once to call Dorian out for cheating. They both laughed as Dorian replaced the affected piece, but they fell quiet again to finish the game.

“I believe that’s Checkmate.”

Dorian shook his head playfully, “You’re in the right line of work, it seems. Strategy is your forte. Good game, Commander.”

“And to you, Dorian. Care to play another round?”

As much as he was enjoying Cullen’s company, Dorian’s mind was tired from all his worrying—though this had been a good distraction—and he just needed to rest.

“I’m afraid not. I’ve things I wanted to get done today, I’m sorry.”

Cullen rose from his seat, “It’s no problem at all.”

Dorian rose as well, but neither went anywhere. They both just stood, looking softly at the other.

“Um…” Cullen rubbed at the back of his neck. “Could I walk you back to your quarters, then? Or wherever it is you’re headed.”

Dorian felt a flattered smile tease the corner of his lips. “I would like that, yes.”

On the steps up to the loft of the main hall, Dorian cleared his throat before speaking, “I apologize for my outburst earlier. I’ve just been thinking about my life back home recently.”

Cullen shook his head and placed a gentle hand on the mage’s back, “You have nothing to apologize for. I was hoping a game of chess would help clear your mind, so I was expecting you to vent a bit.”

At Dorian’s door Cullen added, “You know, you should feel free to talk to me. About anything. I said that when we first met, and it hasn’t changed just because you’re no longer under my command.”

As he stood in the doorway, Dorian glanced from Cullen to inside his room, wondering if he should act on their mutual attraction, or continue avoiding Cullen forever. How would Cullen be hurt if Dorian’s lies came to light? Not nearly as badly if they were just friends.

Dorian took a deep breath, “Maybe talking would help.”

Cullen smiled loosely.

“Or…” I’m really going through with this, aren’t I? “maybe not talking would help…”

Cullen’s smile fell away as he caught Dorian’s meaning. He didn’t make any move toward or away from Dorian, just like the first time he had been in his room. He simply said, in the quietest voice just above a whisper, “Whatever you’d like, I’m here.”

That was Dorian’s last chance to not do something stupid, but he ignored his racing heart. “I’d like you to come in.”

Cullen took a single stride into the room, closing the door and locking it behind them. He slowly closed the distance between them, placing caring hands on Dorian’s hips, waiting for more invitation.

Dorian let his hands glide up the armor on Cullen’s chest, watching his fingers draw closer to Cullen’s neck, the blond’s eyes studying his unsure expression all the while.

Just as skin met skin, Cullen whispered, “We don’t have to do this. No one’s making us. If you’re not certain—”

“I’m certain about you,” Dorian met his gaze, “I’m only uncertain about letting myself do this. I’ve fucked this up before, I don’t want to fuck it up with you.”

Cullen let out a pained sigh, gently taking Dorian's face in his hands and kissing him. How could something so soft be so intense all at once? Dorian dug his fingers into the fur mantle of Cullen’s armor, walking them backward toward the bed. With each step, a new article of clothing fell away, until they finally fell onto the bed in only their trousers. Cullen’s attention turned to the mage’s neck, Dorian biting his lip at the sensation.

Cullen’s kisses moved up and down and back up slowly and methodically, making Dorian arch off the bed ever so slightly with each touch, subtle noises escaping his lips. Cullen wrapped his tongue around the shell of Dorian’s ear, breathing heavy but quiet, “I can’t begin to tell you how you make me feel. I adore everything about you. I admire your confidence and how unabashedly ‘you’ you are. I can hardly stand to be away from you the more I get to know you.”

Dorian was nearly breathless as Cullen kissed his way down the mage’s chest. It wasn’t until those callused fingers started to loosen his laces that he felt he couldn’t breathe at all.

As Cullen made tantalizing work of Dorian’s last remaining garment, he whispered with raw emotion, “Nothing could change the way I feel about you, Dorian Rider.”

With that, Dorian sat up and grabbed Cullen’s hands to pause their work.

“Stop.”

Cullen’s head shot up to look Dorian in the eye, worry flooding his mind. “Are you ok?” he lifted himself to sit on the edge of the bed next to the mage, caressing his cheek with one hand, stroking his hair with the other.

“You don’t know me, Cullen. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

Confusion washed over Cullen’s features, “I…I don’t understand. I want to know you. I feel like I do, but if I don’t, then I want—”

Dorian shook his head vigorously, “Cullen, you don’t get it! You wouldn’t want me if you knew me.”

Cullen’s eyes went stern, “Dorian, I just told you nothing could change my feelings for you. Nothing. I meant that.”

Dorian removed Cullen’s hand from his face, gently stroking the Commander’s knuckles with his thumb, “Please go, Cullen. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“You could never hurt—”

“Please,” Tears threatened the rims of his eyes as he tried to hold his ground. He wanted nothing more than Cullen’s body against his, but he knew Cullen would only be let down, falling for a fake man Dorian created.

Cullen took a moment to lean his head against Dorian’s, a wordless goodbye, before he rose and began throwing on his armor, scattered from the door to the foot of the bed. Dorian watched his hands as Cullen silently dressed, glancing back periodically to gauge the mage’s feelings.

As he opened the door to leave, Cullen’s weak voice called back, “You can tell me anything, Dorian. I meant that, too.”

“Not anything.”

The room turned cold when Cullen left, and the breeze from the door closing behind his one chance at love shook the tears from Dorian’s eyes, falling onto his shaking hands.

He could have been sitting there for hours—he wouldn’t know—just trying to…well, he wasn’t sure of that either. He felt so numb despite the tears he could feel on his cheeks. He couldn’t decide if he needed a drink, a good sob, or some self-pleasuring. None of them would make him feel better, but they would make him feel something.

He’s gone. Dorian kept repeating in his head. He’s gone, and I sent him away. He confessed his feelings to me, feelings I share, and I told him to go. I can never get him back, I sent him away…

__________

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but when the bells rang out, his eyes opened. They were dry and sore from crying; probably still red, too. Dorian reluctantly dragged his body out from under the fur blankets and sulked over to his mirror. Yes, definitely still red. He didn’t want to go out like that. He didn’t want to go out at all, for fear he might have to face his lost lover.

No, I didn’t lose him. Dorian stared himself down in the mirror, I pushed him away.

Dorian managed to make himself presentable, but he felt like a fraud in his own skin. He had settled into the identity of Dorian Rider, but somehow Cullen had undone all his hard work. Dorian was once again faced with himself, nothing to cover the shame he felt lying to a man who cared for him so deeply. And yet, he made no effort to tell Cullen the truth.

He would only be hurt that I lied to him, things are better this way. Interesting, the way Dorian continued attempting to convince himself he was in the right, when every part of him knew better.

Before he could psychoanalyze any further, Dorian pushed his chair back from the vanity and marched out the door, leaving his doubt at the threshold.

On the walk to the library, he felt like people were looking at him differently. They weren’t, when he looked closer, but nothing felt comfortable anymore. And things only became more uncomfortable when in the main hall Dorian’s eyes locked with golden ones on the other side of the room.

Cullen was entering the hall to the war room, papers tucked under his arm, when he glanced up, double taking before locking his gaze with Dorian’s. He wanted to run to the Commander, throw himself into the blond’s arms and apologize for everything. But melting on the other side of the hall would have to do. Cullen’s stare went soft as he saw the pain in Dorian’s eyes. They both knew the other was aching for their love, but both were too scared.

Cullen finally shook his head and looked down at his boots, disappearing into the ambassador’s office without a word.

Dorian tried to brush it off, tried to focus on his research, but to no avail. His mind was flooding with his mistakes. Though his eyes trekked the page in front of him, though his fingers turned the pages, he processed nothing. His mind was too full.

If there’s any perfect place to brood, it would be a library. Everyone passed Dorian without suspicion, assuming him to be lost in his work, all the while his crisis played out in silence. By the time the sun was setting, Dorian had read several works, but only had a page of notes. He tried to be productive, at least.

Now he had a choice to make: go back to his room and sleep his problems away, or go to the tavern and drink his problems away. Decisions, decisions.

Drowning his sorrows did sound tempting, but Dorian had pretended to be okay around enough people today. Besides, he didn’t need Bull to dive into his subconscious.

Dorian reached his quarters and, just as he prepared to shed his clothes and fall into a fitful sleep, a frantic knock rattled his door. He nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound. He waited a moment, but nothing more happened. Dorian slowly approached the door and unfastened the latch. Right as he did, the door flew open, nearly knocking him back.

Cullen charged into the room with a wrinkled piece of parchment strangled in his fist. He slammed the door behind him, and somehow quietly screamed, “What, by Andraste, is this?!”

He held up the letter just long enough for Dorian to see a familiar signature at the bottom of the page. “Halward Pavus.” Oh, Maker, no.

Dorian’s jaw dropped, eyes wide, hands turning clammy. He had no words, not that Cullen was interested in listening.

Cullen threw the note behind him, roughly grabbing Dorian’s shoulders and pushing him into the vanity behind them. Dorian tried to babble a “this isn’t what it looks like” before the backs of his thighs collided with the table and a pair of harsh, sweet, warm lips crashed against his.

Before he could return the kiss, or even close his eyes, Cullen pulled away and stared him down. “You really had me falling for you. Was that your plan? Get close to the Commander of the Inquisition so you could leach information from me to send back to your Venatori parents?!”

“No, Cullen, I would never—”

“You made me fall in love with you.”

That word took all Dorian’s breath. His previously pounding heart stopped. Tears welled up in his eyes as he realized what he had done, the pain he caused, the trust he’d broken. This is all he wanted to prevent.

“I-I’m so sorry, I never wanted this—”

“You aren’t even going to deny it?!” Cullen stood back from him, disgust in his eyes. That look alone could ruin Dorian.

“Cullen, please! I’m not Venatori! I tried to hide because I knew you’d think a Tevinter mage was Venatori, I knew you would think I was a spy, or a thief, or—”

“Lying only makes you look guiltier, Dorian! Bull told us exactly what he was going to do if he joined the Inquisition and we took him on his word because we were desperate. If you had told us, told me the truth—”

“Would you believe a mage walking through your gates saying, ‘Yes, I am a very powerful necromancer from Tevinter, but I swear I’m not Venatori’?”

Cullen’s face contorted again, backing up further, “You’re a necromancer?”

Dorian should have held his tongue. If he had stayed quiet, would they have given him a trial? But he supposed staying quiet is what led to this mess in the first place.

“Cullen I—please, give me a moment to explain! I never wanted you to get hurt, I didn’t mean to fool you into falling for me. I promise you, I never wanted any of this!”

Cullen’s voice dropped, “You didn’t mean for me to fall in love with you?”

Dorian’s shoulders relaxed, “No—well, yes. I—I hoped you were falling too because, Cullen, I lo—”

Cullen’s jaw clenched and he nearly gripped Dorian again, taking all the strength he had to hold back. “Don’t…say it.”

“But, Cullen, I really do—”

Cullen was on him in an instant, hands digging into his hair, lips locked in a heated kiss. Passion mixed with anger and confusion as the two men lost themselves in physical sensation.

Dorian gasped for air as the kiss finally broke, Cullen asking through panting breath, “Make me believe you. Prove you’re the same man I loved.”

Dorian searched the blond’s face for something that could help him, but he found only hurt and betrayal. “I…I can’t.” he didn’t know how he could fix this, he didn’t think he could.

Tears finally fell from Cullen’s eyes as he looked to the floor, crossing his arms over his chest and turning away, not wanting Dorian to see just how much he’d hurt him.

“Get out. Take your things, food, lyrium potions. I don’t care, take whatever you want, just…”

Dorian held his breath, devastated to hear what came next, “I don’t ever want to see your face again.”

He was crushed, he felt like his legs would give out from under him. But Dorian moved as he was told, gathering his things, tears staining each item he touched.

Cullen refused to look at him, keeping his back to Dorian as the mage packed all he could.

Dorian approached the door slowly, hoping Cullen would stop him to say something more, something that could bring Dorian hope for seeing each other again. But he got no such reply.

“Don’t let anyone see you leave. I’m going to tell them you vanished into the night before I could confront you. They won’t come looking for you. Neither will I.” Cullen’s glazed eyes rose to look into Dorian’s, puffy and bloodshot. “Goodbye, Dorian.”

His heart sank. He felt like he might vomit, if he had any strength. He felt so weak and lost.

“Goodbye, Cullen.”

With those final words, Dorian was gone. He did as Cullen told him, making sure no one witnessed him leave into the dark. With nowhere else to go, he headed toward Miss Ella’s farm. Dorian didn’t know how he would tell her, but he was done lying. He’d hurt the most important person to him already, nothing could be worse.

__________

Cullen stood in the empty room with his eyes closed, hands over his face, wiping away his tears so he could pretend he wasn’t hurt. After taking a moment to compose himself, Cullen began searching the room halfheartedly. He threw open drawers without really looking, making the place look ransacked in a rush. Once he’d scattered things in a believable way, he turned his attention to the lock on the door. He took the hilt of his sword and knocked the latch loose, making it look like he had broken in. That should be enough to convince his fellow advisors.

Cullen quickly returned to the war room where many members of the inner circle, along with the Inquisitor and his advisors, waited in anticipation for the Commander’s return. As the door swung open, all heads turned toward him, each with equally expectant and worried looks. Cullen’s face was blank, but his feeling of defeat was still obvious.

“Well?” Cassandra stepped forward, worry in her eyes but anger on her face, “Where is that Venatori bastard?”

Cullen sighed deeply, the rest of the room raising their brows in unison.

“Gone. I didn’t find him in the ‘Rest or his room.”

Cassandra scoffed, “Then we send a search party. Check all corners of Skyhold, then we—”

“We can send all the search parties you want, Lady Seeker, but there’s nothing left of him here. I broke into his quarters and looked for any information as to where he could be or what he hoped to gain by joining our ranks, but I found nothing. He either took everything important with him, or destroyed it.”

Everyone’s heads fell, shoulders slouching in defeat.

The Inquisitor looked to Cullen with sadness strewn across his features. “And to think, we had all become so close…and it meant nothing to him.”

Tears threatened Cullen’s eyes again as he remembered how desperately Dorian had clung to him, tied to convince him he was innocent. But innocent men don’t hide, innocent men don’t lie.

“I know. But that must have been what he wanted. For us all to get comfortable, slowly leaking him the information he needed.” He closed his eyes tightly, shaking and dropping his head, “I should have never let him join the inner circle. I’m sorry, Inquisitor.”

The Inquisitor looked back to his party, nodding toward the door. All but the advisors exited the war room, leaving the room silent and cold. Once the space was empty of onlookers, the Inquisitor shuffled over to Cullen with wet eyes. They looked at one another for a long moment before the Inquisitor wrapped his arms around Cullen’s waist. Cullen’s eyes widened in shock, looking down at the elf hanging onto him for dear life, before he gave in and squeezed the Dalish’s shoulders in return.

They stood like that for a moment, Leliana and Josephine watching on solemnly, wrapped in their own somber embrace. The elf pulled back but stayed close, saying in a quiet voice, “He was my friend, Cullen. Our friend,” he gestured to the women behind him, “I know he was yours, too.”

Cullen felt his heart stop, then fall into the empty pit in his chest. “Yes,” he said gently, “the closest I’ve had since…in a while.”

The elf made certain the door closed quietly behind him as he left, Josephine following closely behind. Before Leliana made her move to leave as well, she handed Cullen a short stack of papers.

With a soft voice, she said, “I’m sure this isn’t the best time to tell you, but I started digging right after we intercepted the letter. I found the names of a few close friends and accomplices of the Pavus family. One of which has been heavily involved with the Venatori since before the term was coined, before they worshipped Corypheus.”

Cullen flipped through the pages, sloppily skimming the words on each one.

“Name?” Cullen asked, no nonsense.

“Gereon Alexius, a former mentor and family friend, from what I found. If Dorian had anything to do with the magicks Alexius had been developing…”

“I’ll go over it in the morning. Thank you, Leliana.” Cullen’s voice was flat and flavorless.

The spymaster sighed, placing a sympathetic hand on Cullen’s cheek, palm surprisingly warm. “I know what you felt for him. When I first joined the Hero of Ferelden on her journey…”

Cullen looked at her with understanding.

Leliana cleared her throat, never having gotten this personal with the Commander before. “Well, people have feelings that sometimes contradict with their goals. And they choose which to follow. Often, I think, they choose the wrong path.”

Cullen nodded, eyes squeezing shut with hurt.

“What I’m trying to say is this: I wonder if he didn’t lie to you about the way he felt, but knew it wouldn’t align with his plans.”

“I can’t have feelings for someone who supports the Venatori’s agenda. He fooled me, Leliana. I fell for a man that doesn’t exist.”

Leliana’s hand fell from his cheek. “Have you considered his personality may have been real?”

Cullen opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out, his brow simply furrowed.

She gave a slight smile, “Please rest, Commander. The war can wait a night.”

__________

Cullen didn’t sleep that night, his dreams plagued by images of Dorian and echoes of their final goodbyes. He could still feel the mage’s thin fingers in his hair, the passion and meaning in each kiss they shared. Cullen would wake frequently throughout the night, sweating and conflicted, his emotions at war with reality.

It was futile after a while, and only served to drain his energy more each time he woke, so he stopped trying to rest, instead making his way down to his office to mull over Leliana’s research. The blond felt hopeless as he read, not recognizing any of the names of the influential families mentioned, despite them all being connected to someone he thought he knew.

As he skimmed the next few pages—mostly filled with descriptions of how money was passed amongst the families for favors, something Josephine could use later—Cullen’s eyes paused on a description of Dorian. The quote seemed to be a letter sent from a man called Felix, to Dorian’s father:

“Lord Pavus,

My father has been rather busy with his project, so he asked me to write you in his place. Dorian has been of exponential help with his academic knowledge, but also with his experience. My father truly appreciates you continuing to allow Dorian to remain with us. As promised, he is kept an eye on, allowed only to leave the grounds with the accompaniment of myself or a guard. Speaking personally, your son is a great man. He has been nothing but honest with us, and I consider him a friend. I am starting to suspect he does not know my father’s intent with their project, and I am beginning to worry he may cease work if he discovers its purpose. Know that, should that happen, I will not stop him. Our task was to keep him from trouble, and if he deems the project as such, I will trust his judgement. My father and I have different views on these types of magicks; Dorian seems to enjoy thinking about the hypothetical, but he agrees that these things are better left to imagination. While the project is important to my father—and of course to myself, if it can work to cure me—I feel a need to allow Dorian to do what is best for himself. These are my intentions, not my father’s. He has all intentions to hold up his end of your bargain. I have made no such promises to you. Be aware of that.

Yours Truly,

Felix Alexius

P.S. Dorian asks that you do not attempt to contact him directly. He has nothing to say to you.”

Cullen could deduce two things from the letter: Felix Alexius is Gereon Alexius’s son, and whatever they were working on was magic most people have an aversion to. Could it be blood magic? What would blood magic have to do with curing someone of an ailment? Even if this Felix was possessed, blood magic could only transfer the demon to another living being, not banish it. Blood magic is a demon’s domain.

As much as he tried to focus on what information he could draw about their “project”, Cullen couldn’t help but see how devoted Felix was to Dorian. While he claimed in the letter to consider Dorian a friend, could they have been more? Another detail about Tevinter Dorian had hidden.

“Nothing but honest?” Cullen thought aloud, “If only. Would have saved me a few headaches.”

Cullen drug a hand over his face, wiping away a tear he hadn’t noticed pooling in the corner of his eye. This was harder than he thought it would be, to consider his paramour could be capable of aiding the Venatori, or even worse, being one of them.

He took a moment to collect himself before dressing in his usual armor and setting off for the war room where he would wait for the morning to fully rise and his fellow advisors to arrive.

Entering the hall leading to the war room, Cullen was greeted by Josephine at her desk looking exhausted, mulling over paper work of her own. She looked up upon hearing the door creak open and gave him a weak smile.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked knowingly, fixing her frazzled hair.

Cullen nodded, “I see you couldn’t either. Manage to dig up anything else?”

Josephine sighed, bringing a tall stack of parchment up from the floor by her feet. “There are many noble families associated with the Venatori. Most are from Tevinter, of course, but there are a surprising handful from Antiva.”

Cullen plopped into the seat in front of Josephine’s desk, about to start sorting through the things she’d dug up, when the door creaked again, Leliana leaning her head in.

“I thought I heard you up, Josie. Commander.” She nodded to Cullen in greeting.

He nodded back, handing her his notes from the morning, “I found a letter in what you gave me, from a young man named Felix. It looks like he’s Alexius’s son, and he knows what they were working on. Something big, something dangerous, something even Dorian seemed hesitant about.”

“Blood magic?” Josephine asked, walking around her desk to peer over Leliana’s shoulder.

“That was my first thought, but the people of Tevinter have a long history with blood magic; I wouldn’t think a Tevinter would have any qualms about using it. No, this must be something people don’t play with.”

The women shook their heads in unison. “Corypheus is driving his followers to play with the laws of nature.” Leliana said under her breath.

“Possibly. We need to find Alexius before he completes his project, if he hasn’t already.”

The women nodded, Josephine rushing off to wake the Inquisitor.

As the door swung closed, Leliana turned to face the Commander, kneeling on the ground before him. “Are you feeling any better? I take it you didn’t sleep well.”

Cullen shook his head, leaning forward in defeat. “I understand you have eyes everywhere around Skyhold, but how is it you knew about me and Dorian, but didn’t know Dorian was pretending to be someone else?”

Leliana sighed, crossing her legs under her, “I don’t know. I feel like I failed us, I let such a huge threat pass through our defenses. He must have been extremely careful. It…it makes me wonder if he has other correspondents in our ranks.”

Cullen nearly choked on his bitter laugh, “One thing at a time, Leliana. If there were any other Tevinters in the Inquisition, they would have fled with Dorian. They’d know they had been found out. We can look into it after we find this mentor of Dorian’s and find out what that secret project is all about.”

It didn’t seem to make the spymaster any less nervous, picking at her fingernails and staring into her lap. Cullen sighed, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, “You haven’t failed anyone. I’m the only fool here.”

Before she could reassure him, the door flew open again, the Inquisitor and Josephine holding yet more research. Cullen stood, bowing his head respectfully.

“What’s this about a secret project?” The elf asked, almost panting.

“I found a letter from Dorian’s mentor’s son describing a project using magicks none of them felt comfortable messing around with. We’ve ruled out blood magic; we think it could be something even more threatening.”

“Are we certain? Dorian seemed very against blood magic when we spoke about it. He almost looked sick talking about it.” The Inquisitor nearly snatched the letter from Cullen’s hand when offered.

“Even if those were his true feelings on the matter, blood magic is not a rarity in Tevinter, and even this mentor and his son seemed hesitant.” Cullen explained, pointing to his notes in the margins.

The elf sighed, sitting in Cullen’s now vacant seat. “This is bad. So bad.”

“Yes…” Cullen sat as well.

After a long silence where the room seemed as tired as the people in it, Josephine spoke up.

“Should we start work on a plan of attack?”

“I’ll see if I can hunt Alexius down. Maybe find his son, if I can’t find the man himself.” Leliana was already heading back to her nook to send out spies.

The Inquisitor absentmindedly nodded, approving but reluctant. “I’ll see who wants to come along to fight an insane Venatori with some mystical secret magic. Wish me luck.” He stood and shuffled toward the door.

“Cullen, form a small band of troops. Some of the more talented Templars, if you could. I have a feeling we’ll require their abilities.”

“Yes, Ser.” Cullen said bluntly, watching the Inquisitor as he exited.

Josephine and Cullen turned to one another. “I’ll see if anyone is willing to trade their honor for a bribe. I suppose we’ll regroup after we’ve all finished. Stay strong, Commander.”

“Thank you, Josephine. I will certainly do my best.” Cullen gave a respectful bow before leaving the ambassador to her work.

As he walked down the main hall, ready to turn left through Solas’s quarters toward his office, Cullen noticed the light breeze coming from a door to his right. He glanced over and saw the garden mostly empty before the door swung shut again. He could use to clear his head.

So he turned right instead, stepping out into the garden. Cullen breathed in and held it, letting the silence wash over him. He let the breath out and began slowly pacing the garden. He brushed his gloved fingertips across the leaves in the herb planters, watched on as a bird drank from the well, and stepped over the line of ants making their way to their hill. But when he reached the gazebo, he stopped.

Cullen looked on solemnly at the chess board, pieces still set as they were when he and Dorian had played, a few knocked over from wind. Cullen sat in his seat and stared across to where Dorian should have been. He’d looked so beautiful that day, the sun backlighting and outlining his face. He had still had a sheen of sweat from sparring, glistening off his toned arms and neck. Cullen heaved a long sigh before moving one of Dorian’s pieces forward.

“Check mate,” He whispered, “You got me, Dorian.”

After a moment Cullen stood, making his way into the small Chantry set up in one of the rooms off the garden. Andraste’s likeness watched him as he entered, false golden eyes seeming to follow him. Cullen gently lowered himself onto a knee, clasping his hands in front of his face before the shrine.

“It’s been a while since I’ve done this properly.” He admitted.

Cullen proceeded to recite the Chant of Light and several prayers for the men and women he would be taking with him to battle. One for the Inquisitor, one for himself, one for his friends, and one for his family.

Before he stood, Cullen closed his eyes tightly. “He may not deserve it,” he said softly, quietly, “but Maker please, keep Dorian safe. I doubt more and more the decision I made sending him away. I should have let him say his piece. I didn’t know Dorian Pavus, but I knew my Dorian. There has to be something of the man I loved in there. It couldn’t have all been a lie. He cried for me, he told me he didn’t want to hurt me. I can’t bear the thought of it all having been manipulation. Please, wherever he is, keep him safe.”

__________

Cullen would have preferred it hadn’t taken as long as it did, but here they were two days later with plans sprawled out on the war table. Each advisor had done their work quickly but surely, getting as close to the truth as they could in such a short time frame. Cullen had his Templar volunteers and a solid fighting strategy, Leliana had her eye witnesses, and Josephine had her bribed sources.

As the Inquisitor wrapped up the meeting, all attendees on board with the plan, he asked, “Any final questions?” Hesitant to move forward with their search.

The room had a sad sort of silence, none of them sure they would return safely, or return at all. They had been lucky since Haven to avoid any true life or death battles, but they were all well aware this would be like no fight they had fought before.

With the lack of any remaining questions to help him stall, Lavellan turned to Cullen with soft eyes. “Are you ready, Commander?”

After a deep, deep breath, He nodded. They were all on their horses and off in an instant, Skyhold’s gates behind them reminding them there was no turning back.

Hours later, after following the directions Leliana’s spies could write out with any certainty, the party found themselves passing through Redcliffe Farms, past the stables and the druffalo, to a fork splitting the trotted path in two.

“This way, I think.” The Inquisitor said, checking the written description again.

“Are you sure?” Cullen chimed in quickly, riding up to align their horses so he could glance over the elf’s shoulder. “The only thing up the hill is the watchtower. A stream beyond that. I expect if the Venatori were holed up there, the stable master and his wife would have noticed. Certainly our guards in the tower would have seen them come and go.”

Lavellan chewed the inside of his lip as he became less convinced they weren’t out on a wild goose chance. “The reports just say ‘Venatori activity traced back to Redcliffe Farms. Suspected to be in Dead Ram Grove.”

Increasingly frustrated by the vague intel they had managed to scrounge up practically overnight, Cullen let out a scoff. “Dead Ram Grove is the start of the stream, where the water flows down from the mountains. The only thing there is water and sheep. Obviously Leliana’s helpers need their heads examined. It’s pointless to even look.”

As Cullen turned his horse around, ready to head back to the farm and ask around, the Templars all perked up in unison.

“Commander,” Barris pulled his horse to block Cullen’s path. “There is magic here. It’s faint, not like a mage is present, but a spell they left behind. Whether they remain here, or have since left the area, I still believe it’s worth investigating.”

Cullen looked over his shoulder for conformation, the Inquisitor already leading the group ahead. While he trusted Barris’s sense for magic, Cullen also felt dread, part of him hoping they wouldn’t find anything Venatori related. Or at least nothing that would confirm Dorian’s connection to them. But he followed dutifully, returning to his position right next to the Inquisitor.

As they passed the watch tower overlooking the farm, and led their horses to wade through the water as they followed upstream, Cullen’s heart raced. The Templars continued to sense lingering magic, perhaps even an active enchantment; a ward meant to hide things in plain sight.

“Dispell,” Cullen commanded, Barris and his soldiers taking deep swigs of lyrium. Cullen averted his eyes as they did.

Moving as one, the Templars gave two hardy hits each to their shields, and a shock wave erupted out from their group. It made no noise, but bounced off the walls of Dead Ram Grove like an echo. The party stayed silent in waiting.

Distant voices could be heard speaking Tavene.

Cullen and Lavellan whipped their heads around to look at each other with wide eyes. “Venatori!”

Hurried but quiet, the party leapt off their horses, loosely draping their reins over branches to keep the steeds in place. They followed the voices to a low cliff overlooking the grove. There was little foot traffic, with overgrown grass and weeds, dead trees leaning to make a morbid arch. As they inched closer, a small sconce lit on its own, causing the Inquisitor to jump.

He took a hesitant step forward, narrowing his eyes at the greenish blue flame. “Veil fire.” He whispered behind him. “That means mages.”

Part of Cullen’s heart sank. While he knew this would lead them to gaining an edge against Corypheus, a selfish part of him wanted them to find nothing, so he would never learn more about just how much Dorian had lied to him.

Entering the ruins of what must have been an old exit from the deep roads, massive stone pillars loomed, along with menacing statues of cloaked skeletons driving their swords into the ground. The group felt uneasy, each member fidgeting and glancing to every corner of the room. It was dark, but the light from outside showed them a staircase leading even further into the earth, and further into darkness.

Cullen blocked the Inquisitor from continuing, rather taking the lead himself to protect the elf from a possible ambush. Making their way forward only led them to darker and darker rooms, no torches in sight, only dim Veil fires that continued to flare up ominously as they approached each sconce.

Just as they entered the final room of the cave ruin, Cullen starting to think there may be nothing here after all, the room came to life, sconces bursting into multicolored flames, illuminating the space to reveal that they were surrounded.

“Inquisitor,” a dark figure in Tevinter robes grinned smugly from a ruined throne at the far end of the room. “Welcome.”

“Sheath your weapons,” the surrounding mages demanded, drawing ever closer with staves outstretched.

The party looked to Lavellan for instruction, and he nodded, returning his sword to his back. The group followed suit.

“We were beginning to wonder if you might realize how close we had drawn. Corypheus sends his regards.” The mage stood from his seat, tossing back his hood and crossing his arms behind him.

“Oh, we found you out quickly,” Lavellan snarled, “Your little spy wasn’t as stealthy as he thought. Maybe you should handle your correspondents’ communications more carefully.”

The Tevinter’s brow raised, looking surprised, but always taunting. “My ‘spy’?” he inquired with a lilted voice, “Do tell, Inquisitor.”

Cullen rolled his eyes. “No need to play coy, Alexius. We intercepted Magister Pavus’s attempts to contact his son, whom you so clumsily slipped into our ranks.” Cullen’s bitterness and blame had all lifted off of Dorian in that moment as he directed his hurt onto Alexius, the man responsible for all this heartbreak in the first place, as far as Cullen was concerned.

“Magister Pavus’s son?” Alexius’s grin dropped, “You speak of Dorian, Commander?”

Cullen flinched at the mention of the mage’s name.

Alexius looked to the throne behind him, tracing a finger along the arm. “My poor Dorian; if only he could have seen the good he could achieve. Not only for Tevinter, for the world.”

Cullen was in shock at what he was hearing. If Alexius hadn’t sent Dorian to the Inquisition, then who did? Could all that Dorian said, that fateful night on which he was banished from Cullen’s sight, be true after all? From where he stood, all Cullen could see was a backlit outline, but the mage before them began to make an obvious, sinister movement toward his pocket.

“What Dorian never realized, what I tried to teach him through our research, is that Thedas…Thedas needs direction,” his voice was low as he turned, eyes glistening with intent, knowing he had won.

“Thedas needs control.”

Blue light began sparking in the mage’s palm, lighting his crazed expression from below, broken sounds of laughter escaping his lips as he raised his hand higher.

The Inquisitor and Cullen watched on with masked fear as a small talisman on a leather cord began to rise on its own from the palm of Alexius’s hand, crackling in an unstable, uncontrolled manner. Just as dread and the weight of their own mortality began washing over the party, a voice called out from a shadowy corner:

“No! I won’t let you do this.”

The blue cast vanished at once, the talisman dropping from its ominous floating and back into the mage’s hand. Alexius whipped his neck around, eyes worried and shocked at once, obviously recognizing the voice. The young man had dark, tired eyes as he revealed himself from the dark. His skin lacked color, and his hair was thin. He looked as if he had lived a man’s full life in only a few years, and he was exhausted.

“Felix!” Alexius ran to the young man’s side. “My son, you should be resting, you’re too weak; you look so pale!”

Cullen’s shoulders relaxed as he heard the familiar name. “Felix?” he said quietly, then directing his question to the man himself, “You were friends with Dorian, weren’t you?”

Felix pushed past his father, standing before the party with confidence. “I am. I know him well, and I know he would never have helped with your project if he knew what you planned to use it for.” He turned to face Alexius, pointing an accusing finger. “You lied to him! You lied to me! You said this was for my health, that you thought this could save me! You betrayed his trust, my trust!”

His eyes went somber as he quietly asked, “What would mother think?”

That sent Alexius into a rage, shouting furiously, “This could bring her back! Both of you would be safe, healthy, happy! I did this all for you both!”

Tears began to well in his eyes as Felix retorted, voice meek and sad, “No. She would have never wanted this.”

Alexius became irate, nostrils flaring and fists clenching, “How dare you!!” he screamed. “You have the opportunity to have your mother back, to have never lost her at all, and you tell me she would never want this? You stand before me, your own father, who has loved and raised you single handedly since she passed, telling me this isn’t all for you?!”

“Raised me? Single handedly?! What about all the days, even weeks, I went without seeing you because you were too hung up on your project? Too lost in the past to spend time with your own son? After my mother died in front of my eyes!”

Alexius’s hands began to burn with fire, the talisman feeding off of his rage and sparking once again. “You would be in the grave with her if it weren’t for me! All that research, just to keep you alive for all these years! You would have died within days of her if it weren’t for all my time spent in that damned laboratory, slaving over revolutionary medicines I now learn you weren’t even grateful for!”

“I wish I had died with her!” Felix’s cry echoed through the stone of the ruin walls. “I’ve been suffering for years! I feel the Blight eating away at me from the inside every moment I continue to breathe! You have no idea the pain you’ve put me through!”

The room fell silent, Alexius thinking on his son’s hurtful words.

“Well,” he said after a long while, voice raspy with emotion, “If my magic can’t serve to help you,” he clenched the talisman with ferocity, “It will serve Corypheus just fine!”

The room lit with blue lightening, the talisman flying into the center of the space and igniting with quick bursts of magical energy, barely controlled. Alexius howled with mad laughter, arms outstretched to feed the talisman with all his mana, fueling the chaotic reaction.

“Father, No!” Felix screamed, throwing himself at Alexius, tackling him to the ground.

While the Venatori were distracted, all watching in awe at the display of power destabilizing in the center of the room, the Inquisitor sprinted forward, drawing his sword and charging to take Alexius out for good. But, from the corner of his eye as he wrestled with his own son, Alexius spotted the elf’s attack. He managed to get a hand free from Felix, commanding the talisman to explode with a magical fury of light spiritual wisps, imploding inward on itself, sucking the Inquisitor in as he screamed in agony, his every essence torn across time and space. Cullen and the Templars watched on in abject horror, Lavellan’s blood curdling cries echoing in their minds.

Though the Inquisitor was gone, his blade continued his momentum, flying across the room and driving directly into Alexius’s shoulder, causing him to tumble off Felix and crash onto the stone floor.

“Venatori! Attack the Inquisitor’s reinforcements!!” Alexius hollered as he stumbled off to his escape.

“Retreat!” Cullen commanded, tailing Barris and the rest of the Templars as they fled, defending them against attacks from behind as they fought through the Venatori hoard before them.

Once there was a hole in the opposition’s defense, Cullen called out, “To the watchtower! Tell them to fire on the river! Shoot anything that moves!”

The Commander fought off those trying to prevent their escape, helping his team push to the ruin entrance. When they reached the threshold, each member jumped back onto their horses, galloping off to the watchtower and the camp just beyond Redcliffe Farms for backup.

“Open fire! Venatori!” Barris yelled to the watchtower guards. A shower of arrows came down almost instantly, flying just behind their horses, taking out many of the Venatori swordsmen. But the mages hadn’t left the mouth of the ruin, and Cullen was right there waiting for them. Dodging the hail of arrows and trying not to fall off the short cliff, Cullen fought back as many of the mages as he could while he waited for backup from the camp. Barris came riding back in just in time to save Cullen’s back from an attack he didn’t see coming.

As their numbers dwindled, it became easier for the Templars to dispel almost all the defensive magicks the Venatori were using, causing the remaining few mages to panic and retreat back into the ruin, following Alexius’s escape route.

Exhausted, but still on edge, Cullen and Barris’s Templars made their way back to the farm to regroup and process what had just happened. What had happened to the Inquisitor?

As they rounded the corner to check on the guards at the watchtower, Cullen heard footsteps running up behind them.

“There’s a straggler!” He called out, pulling out his sword and shield again, ready to strike.

“No, don’t shoot! I want to help you!”

Cullen stayed poised as he watched the man come into view. It was Felix, panting and running toward them, unarmed.

“What did you do with the Inquisitor?!” Cullen inched closer to Felix, still not convinced he could let his guard down.

Felix stopped several feet away, leaving enough room so Cullen felt unthreatened. He raised his hands above his head to show he meant no harm. “He’s not dead, I can promise that much, but I don’t know where he is.” His hands lowered as he scratched his chin in contemplation. “Well, that’s not quite what I mean. I know where he is; he’s here.”

Cullen’s sword and shield lowered and he looked at Felix with confusion.

“What I should say is: I don’t know when he is.”

Frustrated, Cullen ground his teeth, “Enough being cryptic! Just tell us where Alexius took him!”

Felix shook his head. “This is going to take a lot of explaining, and it will sound outlandish, but you have to believe me. I was there when my father and Dorian developed this, I know how it—”

“Spit it out!” Barris barked, now standing next to Cullen, also ready to fight.

Felix sighed, “He sent the Inquisitor through time.”

The Templars looked around at each other, none having heard of such magic before.

“Don’t lie to us, boy! We have you surrounded.” Barris raised his shield in preparation before his arm was pushed down.

“He isn’t,” Cullen held Barris back, then sheathing his own weapon and shield. “When we first suspected Dorian was Tevinter, Leliana found the letter we all read in the mission briefing. The letter was written by Felix, and he said the magic they were experimenting with was magic no one had ever considered manipulating before. Because it’s dangerous; one doesn’t just mess with the laws of nature.”

“You saw my letter? To Dorian’s father? So that’s how you knew of me, and that I know Dorian.” Felix approached slowly as he connected the dots. “So you must see now: Dorian knew he was developing a way to manipulate time, but he thought it was for me. He ran away, here to Ferelden, the moment my father started to speak of joining the Venatori. And he would never have helped in the first place if it wasn’t a matter of life and death.”

Cullen looked Felix up and down, taking in his thin frame, eaten away at by something inside of him. “You said in there that you’re sick. Is it really the Blight? I’ve never seen anyone survive past a day, let alone a year.”

Felix nodded sadly, eyes going even darker, “Yes. While my father is no healer, he is an excellent alchemist, and created many medicines to try and help me while he worked on a more permanent solution to curing me. That’s when he…recruited Dorian to help. It was more like blackmail, but Dorian just wanted to help me.” He looked down at his hands, wringing them nervously. “He was like a brother to me. He never knew this would happen.”

Barris lowered his weapons completely, but would not sheath them. “Then…did you send Dorian to the Inquisition?”

Felix’s eyes went wide, “No, I never even knew he joined. I haven’t been able to contact him for months. It was too risky, I couldn’t have my father knowing I planned to stop him. Dorian always said he would be by my side on that day, But after we lost touch…”

Cullen felt his shoulders relax; Dorian wasn’t Venatori! What a relief. But he felt no relief, as just as the revelation swept over him, another realization came to tighten his chest. He drove Dorian away for nothing. He broke the mage’s heart, and his own, based on assumptions.

“I never let him say his piece…” Cullen thought aloud.

“What?” Barris turned to him, finally putting his weapons away. “You spoke to Dorian? When?”

Cullen wiped a hand over his face before glancing over to Felix. “It looks like the two of us have a lot of explaining to do.”

__________

As they rode their horses back to Skyhold, Barris in the lead and Cullen protecting the rear of the group, Felix tapped Cullen’s shoulder from behind.

“Cullen, is it? Could I ask you something?” Felix said as he shifted uncomfortably on the back of Cullen’s saddle.

“You’ll call me Commander until we know we can trust you.”

“I didn’t mean any disrespect, Commander, I assure you.”

Cullen had to stop himself from groaning. He would have liked to say he was angry, but the only thing jumping around in his mind was confusion. The only thing he was angry about was his decision. And frankly, he was tired of thinking about it. He was only making himself feel worse.

“Just ask your question.”

Felix nodded and asked, “I hadn’t heard from Dorian after his initial letter telling me he had arrived in Ferelden. I’m missing a lot of time between then and now. Could you tell me what happened that led to you believing Dorian was Venatori?”

Cullen heaved a deep sigh, “It’s not a short list of events, I’ll warn you.”

Felix chuckled, “We’ve nothing but time at the moment.”

“I suppose,” Cullen half-heartedly agreed.

When he finished catching Felix up to speed, the young man was silent for a long while, mulling over the details.

“It sounds like Dorian trusted you.” He prodded.

Cullen dropped his gaze to the reins in his tightly fisted hands. “I know I trusted him. I thought he had betrayed my trust when we intercepted his father’s letter, but I…” He squeezed his eyes closed, “I said things I wish I hadn’t. Things I didn’t mean. I know now that I betrayed him, just because I wouldn’t listen.”

“I still can’t believe you spoke to him before he vanished.” Barris chimed in from the front of the formation. “You lied to the entire Inquisition! Even your friends. That’s me I’m talking about, by the way. You lied to me.”

“I know.” Cullen sighed, “I’m sorry. I just…wanted to make sure he was safe. I didn’t know what the Inquisitor would do to him. But I guess it couldn’t have been much worse than what I did…” Cullen’s voice fell off as he remembered all the things he said.

I don’t ever want to see your face again…

Entering Skyhold’s gate led them directly into a crowd of people wanting to congratulate the Inquisitor on defeating the hidden Venatori forces. But when Cullen passed under the arch and into the courtyard with the Inquisitor’s empty horse led behind him, all the chattering stopped.

“Where is Lavellen?” Cassandra asked with worry. And as Cullen’s horse turned to reveal the second passenger, “And who is that?” She growled.

Cullen lowered himself off the horse, pointedly not offering Felix any help to get down, which he did ungracefully.

As he handed the reins off to a stable hand, Cullen told the Seeker, “Call a war meeting.”

__________

“You WHAT?” The ladies exclaimed in unison.

Cullen drug a hand over his face, leaning on the war table and sighing before he said, “I know it was stupid of me, but Dorian isn’t Venatori, so there’s no danger in him being out there on his own.”

“But you didn’t know that when you sent him away!” Josephine shouted, as much as the mild-mannered woman could.

“Look,” Cullen closed his eyes tightly, pinching the space between his brows, “I lied. I lied to all of you and put you in danger because I let myself get too close. I considered Dorian a friend. I didn’t want him to be in danger in the hands of the Inquisition. I’m sorry. I know I was reckless, and I’m sorry.”

The room fell quiet as the women looked to one another, silently acknowledging Cullen’s apology.

Cullen continued after recognizing the soft looks in their eyes. “But what we need to do now is find him. He’s the only one who might know how to get Lavellen back.”

“Dorian can reverse engineer a spell better than anyone I’ve ever met,” Felix added, “He’ll be able to undo this. I’m certain.”

“Well, mister ‘best friend’,” Leliana turned to Felix, annoyed that he had cut in, “Where do you propose we start our search?”

Felix took a second to think. “In his initial letter, to tell me he had arrived, Dorian mentioned he was staying with an older woman in the Hinterlands. He simply called her ‘Miss Ella’. She has a small farm, he said. I haven’t heard from him since then, so that would be my only guess.”

Cullen nodded, “Even if he’s not staying with her, he might be hiding out nearby. Runaways tend to return to places they know first.”

“I trust your ability to hunt down a mage, Commander.” Cassandra said, too dry to tell if she was joking.

But before the hunt could begin, all of Skyhold needed rest and time to absorb the news of the Inquisitor’s disappearance. No rest came to Cullen, however; as if he expected it to. His mind and heart were racing. What if they couldn’t find Dorian? Who would be able to bring back the Inquisitor?

And what if they did find Dorian? Would he forgive Cullen for what he had said? Would he attack or flee?

Worst of all: what if they found his body? Just another casualty of the war between the Templars and mages. Another victim to Corypheus’s forces.

Cullen squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head to clear the image from his mind. He couldn’t bear the thought that his final words to Dorian would be his banishment, never able to redeem himself. Never able to beg for Dorian’s forgiveness.

With his eyes still closed, Cullen heard footsteps drawing casually closer, not trying to sneak, but also cautious.

“Can’t sleep either?” the voice was still slightly distant, not wanting to get too close. Cullen opened his eyes to see Felix, immediately skeptical as to why he was being allowed to walk the castle on his own.

Felix read his expression and chuckled. “Your spymaster has someone tailing me. The Lady Seeker isn’t far behind either. You don’t have to worry, I’m not here to assassinate you or something.”

“Who knows, I might welcome it at this point,” Cullen said under his breath.

Felix’s brow pushed together, “What happened between you and Dorian?”

After a long moment of staring through Felix, the Commander dropped his gaze to his folded fingers leaning on the battlements. “He was incredible to watch. So skilled with magic and combat; it was mesmerizing.” Cullen lifted his head to look up at the stars above. “And intelligent, as well. I enjoyed talking with him about the books he was reading, and the documents I was trudging through. He never looked away while I spoke.”

Felix gave a soft smile, looking to the heavens himself. “I know exactly what you mean. Dorian loves to talk about his research and learn what others have been studying. It made him a great student, one of the reasons he caught my father’s attention as a sponsor.”

A silence fell between the men as they both remembered their friend fondly. Cullen quietly asked, “Can you tell me about the Dorian you knew?”

Felix cocked his head curiously.

“I’d like to know if any of him was the real him.”

A sympathetic smile warmed Felix’s expression. “You described Dorian pretty perfectly just then. Always willing to debate—or argue, whichever he would get the most satisfaction from—and always showing off. He pretends to be self-centered, but he’s the most caring man I’ve ever met. And while I’m not interested in men myself, I don’t think there’s a person in all of Thedas who can deny Dorian’s charm.” Felix chuckled once, “Always the flirt, that one.”

Cullen’s heart dropped. “So he flirted with everyone?” He asked in a whisper, not really meaning it as a question. But Felix still answered.

“He did, but there were always different kinds. It took me long to learn each of them.” Feeling more comfortable with their relations, Felix approached the battlements himself and leaned his hip on the stonework, crossing his arms and looking out over the mountains. “There are four types, so far as I could tell: for showmanship, for de-escalation, for banter, and for real. The showmanship is self-explanatory, Tevinter is built around relationships and marriages. Dorian had to faine interest in his women suitors to keep up appearances. De-escalation, just flirting to calm an argument. Telling people what they want to hear, you know. And of course a little flattery back and forth between friends was his favorite.”

“How could you tell if he ever meant it?” Cullen asked, hopeful.

Felix ran a hand over his hair as he thought. “Dorian is a very honest man, most of what he says he always means, even if he doesn’t say it directly. He might think a noble woman is quite pretty, for example, and rather than tell her flatly, he will go out of his way to make her smile by flirting. ‘By the Black Divine, my lady, have you any common blood to Andraste herself? You have striking eyes, just like hers! And those cheekbones, they could surely cut marble!’ He likes to make people smile.”

“And he’s very good at it,” Cullen couldn’t help the fond grin that spread his lips.

“That he is.” Felix agreed, finding himself with a smile of his own as he reminisced.

__________

Cullen stood silent with his head down, fist poised to knock against the solid wood door before him. He hadn’t had to do something like this since Kirkwall; sharing the tragic news of a Templar’s death with their family. Somehow, this felt similar, having to tell someone Dorian clearly cared about, that he wasn’t who he said. But at least he didn’t have to tell her Dorian was a Venatori spy.

He took a final deep breath before giving a hardy knock. It took only seconds for Miss Ella to answer, like she had been waiting by the door. The door swung open with an audible whoosh, to reveal an older woman with joy in her cheeks, giving way to pleasant confusion when he looked Cullen up and down.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I was expecting someone else. Is there something I can do for you, dear?” A sweet smile wrinkled the skin around her eyes.

Cullen couldn’t help but give a small smile back before clearing his throat and beginning to explain, “Commander Cullen, at your service, ma’am. We are looking for a troop previously employed in our…”

Cullen’s eyes squeezed tightly shut and he sighed, “Dorian. He stayed with you for a while, didn’t he?” He dropped his voice to a whisper so the others couldn’t hear his informality.

Miss Ella reared back a little, bringing the door closer to her so she could close it at any time. “I...oh, I rent my spare room to travelers, I suppose a ‘Dorian’ could have passed through--”

“Ma’am, please. You’re not in any trouble. Neither of you are, we just…” He couldn’t look the sweet woman in the eyes as he said, “I made a mistake. It came to our attention that he had been lying about his past, and I handled it very poorly. If he’s been back here...please, we need his help.”

Miss Ella still didn’t seem convinced, opening her lips to give a vague excuse. Cullen decided to show a little urgency.

“Ma’am, the Inquisitor is missing. Kidnapped, or otherwise incapacitated by the Venatori.”

Miss Ella gasped, covering her mouth with both hands. “Did...did he do it?”

“No, while Dorian is from Tevinter, as we found out, he has nothing to do with the Venatori. But he knows about their magic, and we need him to help us get the Inquisitor back.”

She took a moment to process before stepping aside in the doorway and beckoning them all to enter. Cullen, Felix, and Cassandra crammed into the small farmhouse, while Barris and his templars waited outside. Only Felix accepted an offer of tea.

“He did come back, but he didn’t come inside,” Miss Ella recalled as he stirred honey into Felix’s tea. “He made it nearly to the welcome mat, but no further, and said he was sorry. That he couldn’t stay because I wouldn’t be safe, and it was better if he kept the truth to himself, because he didn’t want to involve me. I figured he must have people after him, so I was expecting a visit, but not from the Inquisition.”

Tempted to sit, but ignoring the urge to slump into any nearby furniture, Cullen rubbed at the back of his neck, “Yes, well, while I’m not at liberty to say much, I made a rather large mistake that--”

“To which are you referring?” Cassandra asked with her arms crossed, scowl doned.

Cullen glowered back and continued, “...that put us all in danger. Dorian included.”

Cassandra let her arms drop, brow softening as she recognized Cullen’s regret.

“Well, as I said, he didn’t stay here long. He headed in the direction of Redcliffe, not taking the roads but going through the woods.”

They stayed long enough for Felix to finish his tea, then they were on their way north to Redcliffe, taking as odd a way they could in hopes of coming across Dorian’s trail.

After nearly an hour of trudging, one of Barris’s templars stopped.

“I smell viel fire.”

Cassandra looked at Cullen with a quirked brow. “Are you certain? How can you tell it isn’t just fire?”

Barris nodded, “I smell it too. It’s like fire but without the smoke, just the heat.”

“Any wards?” Cullen asked.

“None. It shouldn’t be hard to find him if we follow our noses.”

Cullen nodded, letting Barris lead the charge. Soon after, the group came across a very small clearing, staying in the trees to keep cover.

There in the center of the brush, surrounded by wildflowers, sat Dorian, playing with the green flames before him, deep in thought.

Cullen stared longingly, wishing he could just run out and hug the mage, hold him and never let go.

“I’ll go. You all wait here.” Cullen began pushing branches aside.

“You don’t think he’ll give you any trouble?” Barris held him back.

“No, but he will panic if he sees a group of templars coming out of the bushes at him.”

Cullen took a deep breath for courage and stepped out into the sun.

It only took a few steps before Dorian shot out of his seat and grabbed his staff, summoning a ball of fire in his hand. Cullen put his hands up, away from his sword and shield. Slowly, Dorian recognized the blond hair, honey eyes, and marble skin. His guard lowered along with his staff, but only slightly.

“C...Cullen?”

Cullen let out a sigh of relief, lowering his hands and taking a step forward.

“Stop!” Dorian yelled, “This is some kind of trick isn’t it? So what type of demon are you, hm? Rage? Envy? Desire?”

Cullen’s eyes went wide before his brow furrowed with worry, “No, Dorian it’s...it’s me. It’s Cullen.”

Dorian scoffed, “No, that’s not possible. He told me he never…” he swallowed hard. “never wanted to see me again.”

Cullen flinched at his words, seeing how much they had hurt. “I didn’t mean any of it, I swear. I was just scared, I didn’t think before I spoke, and I hurt you. I’m...Dorian, I’m so sorry.”

Cullen watched as emotions came and went in rapid succession across Dorian’s face.

“Make me believe you.” The mage whispered. “Prove you're the same man I loved.”

Those words. They struck him like a knife in the chest, tearing his heart out. Those were his words.

“I can’t…” Cullen whispered back.

Dorian’s staff fell abruptly into the grass, the fire in his hand disappearing into embers as he ran to Cullen. He wrapped his arms around the blond’s shoulders, Cullen returning the embrace just as tightly.

They pulled back, only to bring the other closer into a crashing kiss, tears spilling over onto both men’s cheeks.

“Dorian,” Cullen choked, “I’m so sorry, I said so many things I didn’t mean. I should have listened to you. Maker, I’m so--”

Dorian put a finger to the blond’s lips, then brought his to meet them. “I love you.”

Cullen’s eyes only watered more as he leaned their foreheads together and said, with all his heart. “I love you too.”

They both heard the trees opening from behind them, glancing that way to see Cassandra and Barris with his band of templars.

And Felix.

Dorian’s face lit up as he ran to meet his friend. “Felix!”

Their chests collided as each man wrapped an arm over the shoulder and around the waist of the other.

While the two were updating one another on what had happened between seeing each other last, Cassandra approached Cullen with an annoyed huff.

"So that's why you let him go." She crossed her arms.

Cullen sighed, turning to face her. "Yes," he stated, "because I didn't want him thrown in our prisons, because I didn't want him questioned for hours without rest. Because I love him. Is that what you want me to say?"

The corner of the Seeker's lips turned up on one side, barely a smile at all. She placed her hand on Cullen’s shoulder. "Yes. And I'm glad you do."

It took him off guard, but Cullen was grateful for Cassandra's understanding. He knew she read those romance novels--Varric made sure to boast about it to everyone in Skyhold--but he never expected Cassandra of all people to be forgiving.

Suddenly her face went stern. Pulling her hand away and pointing a finger, she whispered through clenched teeth, "Don't tell anyone I said that. As far as Josephine and Leliana need to know, I'm still angry with you."

Cullen tried not to grin as he nodded.

He turned back to Dorian and Felix who laughed together as Dorian placed a kiss to Felix's cheek. Cullen smiled as he watched them reconnect, a warmth filling his chest.

"I hate to interrupt a reunion," Barris cut in, "but we have grave news about the Inquisitor."

"The Inquisitor?" Dorian looked to Felix, "Your father. He didn't…"

Felix cringed as he nodded, head dropping, eyes closed tightly.

Dorian slumped, arm falling off Felix's shoulders. Cullen came behind him to place a comforting hand on his back.

"He's not dead, is he?" Dorian asked with a heaviness in his breath.

"We...we don't know." Cullen brought Dorian in by the waist, hugging him from the side. "Alexius used an amulet to...send him through time, was it?" He looked over to Felix to make sure he had gotten it right.

"So he finished it." Dorian's eyes widened with fear.

"No!" Felix put himself between Cullen and the mage, "He could never perfect it after you left. Something went wrong when he cast the spell; it wasn't like when you did it."

"You've traveled through time?" Cullen pushed Felix aside to ask Dorian.

Dorian grinned, "What? Never been with a man who invented time travel? Oh, no, of course not, how silly. Because I invented it."

"Dorian." Cullen said sternly, looking for a straight answer.

"No, I didn't go through time. Alexius and I sent an apple core a week forward in time and it came back rotten." As he gave the explanation, a wave of realization washed over Dorian, "But what's when the spell didn't work!" He grabbed Cullen but the hands with excitement. "The plan was to wipe the apple from existence, and only those who cast the spell would remember there ever having been an apple there. The fact that you all remember the Inquisitor proves the spell failed!"

"But how do we know where--when he is?" Barris asked, trying to keep up.

Dorian let go of Cullen's hands to twirl his mustache in thought. "Ah! Have you any paper, my love?"

Cullen grabbed some parchment and charcoal from one of the templars' satchels.

Dorian took the supplies eagerly, kneeling down to use his seat as a writing surface. "Look here," Dorian pulled Cullen in close as he drew a diagram, "We don't know when the Inquisitor is in time, yes? But we do know where. He'll be exactly where he was transported from."

Cullen nodded, following so far.

"So we need to go back to where and, somehow, enter the fade because--"

"Because time doesn't exist in the fade." Cullen cut in, "You can feel for his spirit and pull it back through the veil from the other side of time!"

Dorian smiled, excited that Cullen understood, "Well, I can't. While I studied the dead, I don't have any control over the spirits I use to possess the bodies. But I know someone who does."

"Solas." Cullen, Barris, and Cassandra said together.

__________

Back at Skyhold, they explained the plan to Solas, Cullen's fellow advisors still suspiciously eyeing Dorian.

"I'm impressed with your knowledge of the fade, Dorian. Yet you've never entered it, is that right?" Solas sipped at his coffee.

"I still have my sanity, that should be a dead give away."

Solas grinned, "Indeed. And yet you understand its properties well. And this plan of yours is nearly fool proof."

"Nearly?" Cullen leaned in, "We need better than nearly. We need the Inquisitor back."

Solas held up a hand to calm him, "Nearly is the best place to start. I can help you, but the Inquisitor's spirit isn't the only thing on the other side of time. We need to find his body. Both were transported, were they not?"

Dorian nodded, "Yes, that's where I'm uncertain. Can he enter the fade without performing the ritual himself?"

"Do you know the Arl of Redcliffe, Commander?" Solas asked, hands behind his back as he rounded the desk.

"You're talking about the incident with Conor and Bann Tegan. I've heard the story." He watched Solas with suspicious curiosity.

"I am. There is a way to perform the ritual on another, without entering the fade yourself…"

Cullen's eyes went wide, "No! No one is doing any blood magic!"

"Blood magic?" Dorian looked to Solas with anger. "You're suggesting I perform a blood ritual on the Inquisitor? Nonsense!"

Solas shrugged, "That is the only way I know of to return both the Inquisitor's soul and body as one."

Dorian scratched his chin as he tried to think of another way. "If I had the amulet here…"

Felix perked up, "What if I could get it from my father?"

The room looked over to Felix.

"What? Is it safe after what you did to help us?" Cullen asked.

Felix shook his head, "My father may not be in his right mind, but he's always been a father first. If I need him, he will be there with open arms."

Dorian slowly walked to Felix. "You'd steal from your own father for us?"

Felix smiled, "I would steal sweets from his personal stash for you all the time."

Dorian smiled and gave him a hardy thump on the shoulder. "Then we need to head back to Dead Ram Grove."

The day had been long and exhausting, and while time was of the essence, they all needed rest.

But Cullen couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned in an attempt to find a comfortable spot, but to no avail. Finally, he decided it wasn't worth fighting and went for a walk to think.

He walked the battlements until he was sick of looking at stone walls. When he got back to his office, no more ready to sleep than before, he thought of Dorian, how he had so much more he wanted to say, and so many more apologies to make.

Heading across the bridge to the library, Cullen tried to be as quiet as possible opening the door to Solas's floor. The door creaked ever so slightly, and Cullen heard a calming voice say, "Dorian is downstairs."

He looked up to see Solas painting a mural of the fade on the atrium wall.

"Oh I was just…" Cullen started, but Solas gave him a knowing look. "Thank you." He said gently as he headed for the main hall's staircase to the basement.

Once down there, he saw a soft red light emitting from a door across the hall, where a small private office was. He smiled as he heard Dorian quietly talking to himself.

Cullen pushed the door open silently, seeing Dorian's back facing him. He snuck up and wrapped his arms around the mage’s waist. Dorian gasped before realizing who it was, then leaning his head back and humming in contentment.

"Couldn't sleep either?" Cullen asked in a breathy whisper.

Dorian sighed, "I have to know what I'm doing when I reverse the amulet's magic, if Felix can get it off his father. If we can find his father. Hopefully they've stayed put."

Cullen hummed, acknowledging Dorian's concerns. "I wish we had more time, then you could perfect this."

Dorian turned in Cullen's arms and wrapped his around the Commander's neck.

"I wish we had more time, too." He looked deeply into Cullen's eyes, leaving the silence between them.

Cullen quickly caught on, walking Dorian into the desk, lifting him by the thighs to sit atop it. "We have a couple of hours, at least."

Dorian smiled, bringing Cullen in for a light kiss. It quickly became something more, with hot hands finding fasteners on the other's armor and unfastening them. Their kiss turned deep and passionate and nearly frantic as the men wasted little precious time.

Dorian leaned back and pulled Cullen over him, holding him close as he whispered between kisses, "I never stopped loving you. I couldn't make myself stop after you told me to go. You had me."

Cullen kissed down Dorian's neck as he whispered back, "I thought it was just me. And I need you to know I only sent you away because I was scared. I didn't know what the Inquisition would do to you. I was only upset you'd lied to me."

"But you know why I had to." Dorian held Cullen by the cheeks to get his attention. "Would you have wanted me if I had told you I was a Tevinter necromancer."

Cullen pulled the mage’s hand back and kissed his palm, "I want you now, don't I?"

Dorian's words were thick with need as he whispered, "Do you?"

"More than anything."

And the love they made in the night, in a private tucked away space, far from the eyes and ears of Skyhold, was more than either man had felt in many years. Possibly all their lives.

__________

Cullen smiled as he rode alongside Dorian's horse, listening to him and Felix reminisce. They had a long history, from what Cullen gathered, and cared for each other like brothers. It felt good to see Dorian as his true self, and not a bundle of half truths peeking out from behind an alias.

The group was much larger this time, with closer to fifteen templars, including Barris, along with the addition of Solas and a handful of other mages. Cullen was grateful for the help, even if it meant spending time with Solas, trying desperately to find something to talk about.

When the team arrived, they tied their horses up at the camp near Master Dennet's stables and took off on foot toward Dead Ram Grove, signaling the watch tower to stay on guard.

At the entrance to the cave, Cullen took Dorian's hand and squeezed tightly while giving him a worried look. Dorian smiled gently, squeezing back. Cullen nodded and signaled the group into formation and forward. It was still dark, but with several mages summoning flames into their palms, they would be able to see any ambushes this time.

The team stepped cautiously into the final room of the cave where the Inquisitor had been torn through time. It was quiet, with the scattered corpses of Venatori from their failed attack on Cullen’s crew. Dorian winced as he saw the familiar clothing of his homeland, not happy to be fighting his countrymen.

Cullen looked to Dorian with concern, wordlessly asking if he was alright. Dorian nodded and continued on, reminding himself these men chose this path.

After glancing around the room, everyone turned to face Cullen with disappointed looks.

"There's no one here. How are we going to bring the Inquisitor back without that amulet?" One of the mages asked.

Dorian bit his lip as he thought.

Before he could come up with anything, Felix spoke up. "No, there must be another way out of here. My father didn't head for the entrance when he retreated, he went further in."

Cullen nodded, "That's right, everyone look around! There must be--"

Dorian placed his hands on the wall at the back of the cave and closed his eyes, reciting a spell quietly.

Before anyone could ask what he was planning, the wall dissolved away, revealing a laboratory and a barely conscious Alexius breathing heavily on the ground, books scattered where he sat.

"Father!" Felix rushed to his side as he pulled bandages from his bag. Alexius’s wounds were deep and unhealed, but not from Lavellan's sword, which laid across his lab table, still coated in blood.

"My son," Alexius’s voice was incredibly weak, sounding more like air than words.

Felix began applying pressure to his father's rotting wound, exposed flesh healed open.

"We have healers here, just hold on," he said even as the healers shook their heads, wounds too old to fix.

Dorian approached with caution, nerves rising at seeing his old mentor again. He stepped into view just as Alexius looked up.

"The Venatori," he wheezed, "they left me, abandoned me. Told...told the Elder One I failed them."

Felix's eyes began to well up with tears, "They were using you, father, just like you used Dorian. They wanted your magic, that was all."

Tears tugged at the edges of Alexius’s eyes as well, as he admitted, "The Elder One...Corypheus...he came to take the amulet, tried to kill me. But...but I…"

He began to cough and sputter, blood leaking from his nose and mouth. He tightly grabbed Felix's hand, holding on with all his strength as he gasped and panted for air.

The air was stagnant, musty and old. Without a draft present, Dorian and Felix could feel as Alexius’s last breath escaped his chest and hit their skin.

Felix sat back on his hunches, eyes glazed, staring down at their entwined hands.

Dorian looked away and closed his eyes tightly.

A long silence hovered in the room, Dorian's hand gripping Felix's shoulder to comfort him. He looked down at his hand, still clasped in his father's, and felt something heavy and cold kiss his palm. He pulled his father's hand away to find the amulet, pulsating and smooth, as if never used.

"Crafty bastard," Dorian said as he lookes at the amulet in pristine condition. "He repaired it, but not perfectly. The way the magic is calibrated, it should work in reverse."

Dorian looked from the Inquisitor's sword to the books scattered on the floor.

"He was going to bring Lavellan back and try again."

"Maker's sake," Felix dropped his head into his hands.

"It's already 'calibrated' to bring him back? That saves us some time, doesn't it?" Cullen looked to Solas for confirmation.

"I am unfamiliar with time magic. I believe everyone to be, except for Dorian." Solas gestured from Dorian to confirm.

He nodded, taking the amulet from Felix and looking it over for imperfections. "Indeed it does. So long as he's done it correctly."

Dorian began work on his spell with the mages silently watching on. Though he had asked them not to, they often asked questions, to which the usual reply was, "This is time altering magic, you know. Let's not forget the danger of this."

When they began to ask too many questions they wouldn't get an answer to, Cullen stepped in and shooed them away. After they scattered, Cullen placed a hand on the small of Dorian's back, resisting the urge to wrap his arms around the man from behind. He wanted nothing more than to rest his head on Dorian’s shoulder and close his eyes. And when he would open them, the Inquisitor would be there unscathed and everything would be normal.

Cullen heaved a deep sigh at the thought, Dorian turning to look at him with concern.

"Something the matter, amatus?"

"Who?" Cullen asked, not really having absorbed the question.

Dorian chuckled, "You, silly. Are you alright?"

Cullen shook his head slightly, eyes closed, "No. I mean, yes, it's nothing, just...who is Amatus?"

Dorian rolled his eyes, wrapping his arms around Cullen’s neck. "It's Tevene, a term of endearment like 'honey or 'dear'." A smirk came to his lips as Cullen scolded himself for sounding jealous.

"Sorry, I'm just nervous about this whole situation. I didn't mean to…" Cullen trailed off.

Dorian pressed a nimble finger to his lips. "It's alright, I'm nervous too. This is something I've never done, never even considered having to do. But it will turn out. The Inquisitor will be fine, I promise."

Cullen stared with anxious eyes for a long moment, "That's an awfully confident promise."

Dorian's calm smile faltered ever so slightly, but Cullen caught it, placing a warm ungloved palm to the mage's cheek. "I trust you, Dorian, but it's not your fault if he doesn't come back."

Dorian cringed, "This has all been my fault. If I had just been honest from the beginning--"

"Stop." Cullen leaned forward to silence him with a kiss, forgetting the others around them. "Hunting down the Venatori has been our goal this entire time. This may have happened eventually, you couldn't have changed this."

Dorian nodded, lips still so close to Cullen's. "You're right, I know you are, but I would feel much better if I could bring him back."

Dorian grabbed the calibrated amulet and a tome off the lab table, breaking free of Cullen's embrace and moving toward the center of the room to prepare the ritual.

Solas stood from his crouched position, holding out his hands to take Dorian's completed spell.

"The most difficult bit will be leaving the fade at the same time you entered. Make certain you do not interrupt the flow of time." Solas warned as he started casting.

Dorian looked to Cullen one last time before a green and yellow tear opened before him and he stepped through.

Hours passed and still Dorian hadn't returned with the Inquisitor. Cullen paced the room along with the mages, while Solas maintained meditation in the center of the room, waiting for the beckon call.

He couldn't take the suspense any longer. Cullen gingerly walked near and around Solas to see if he could still hear him. Solas coldly spoke, quiet and even, "I am entirely aware of my surroundings outside the fade, Commander."

It made Cullen jump at first. He then asked, "Are you...in there with them? Can you help them?"

Solas stayed completely still with his eyes closed and legs crossed as he responded, "No, I cannot. I am simply suspending my mind in the fade, but I am not there as they are. They went in physically, body and spirit as one. I would have gone in myself and done this more quickly, but alas, there must be someone on the other side to pull the Inquisitor back through. Dorian has an excellent understanding of time, but the fade can disorient even the brightest minds."

None of this made Cullen feel any better, or more confident that they were safe. "But can you see them? Are they alright?"

Solas sighed, annoyed at having to dumb things down, "Dorian and the Inquisitor have made contact. I can sense their spirits near one another, but I cannot see anything. Were I there, I could use my senses. I am not, however, so I must feel for their souls. I know not where they are in time, or how they fair."

Cullen grunted in frustration. Why did he expect a clear answer?

A short while passed and Solas began to rise, grabbing his staff again. "Everyone stay back, the tear could pull you in!"

Everyone scattered to the edges of the room, watching in astonishment as Solas tore the veil open, Dorian and the Inquisitor stumbling through back into the 'real' world, haggard and panting.

Cullen approached slowly as the tear sealed behind them. When Dorian locked eyes with him, he ran into the Commander's arms.

"Cullen," he whispered in his ear, breathy and shaking, "Thank the Maker, it's you"

Cullen returned the embrace but was still confused. "Yes, it's really me. What happened? Are you alright?"

The rest of the room rushed to the Inquisitor's aid, healers starting to mend cuts and bruises and wrap them gently but with urgency.

Dorian pulled back to look Cullen in the eyes, tears nearly falling onto his cheeks. "Time moves differently. I hoped we would be out in a few days, but it's been weeks, maybe months for us. Lavellan said he'd been sent into the future and stuck there for nearly a year. I can't begin to imagine…"

Dorian shuttered and pulled Cullen close again, Cullen shushing him softly, running calloused fingers over his hair.

__________

Back at Skyhold, a crowd waited anxiously at the base of the steps from the main hall, nervous chatter rumbling through them. The Inquisitor was in his chambers, healers and templars looking him over, a scholar begging him to recount his experience.

Cullen and his fellow advisors took deep breaths before opening the doors of the main hall and descending the steps until they reached the middle landing.

"People of the Inquisition!" Cassandra shouted over the chatter, "The Inquisitor is safe and in good health!"

The crowd sighed a collective sigh of relief as they applauded.

Cullen smiled as he added, "All thanks to the brave and valiant efforts of the templars," they raised their swords from within the crowd, people cheering. "Our mages," they raised their staves as well, Solas smiling as he bowed his head.

"And lastly, this man." Cullen held out his hand, inviting Dorian from the front of the crowd to join him. "This man, who joined with you as a troop, rose quickly through our ranks with his impressive display of magical knowledge; who joined the Inquisitor in the field, and contributed to the important research done in our library."

Dorian was already stunned as he stood above all the people of Skyhold, but Cullen took both hands in his, and faced him full on. "This man, who risked his reputation, his place in the Inquisition, and ultimately his own life, to return the Inquisitor to us from beyond time. Dorian Pavus."

Felix, standing at the front, looked up to Dorian from within the crowd and shouted, "To Dorian!" The crowd joined in with thanks, crying out with joy for their Herald’s great return, and the man who saved him. Dorian looked out over the crowd as they said his name, as they recognized him for all his deeds despite his lineage.

The good Tevinter.

He smiled as he turned to Cullen once again. "A tad overdue, if you ask me."

Cullen chuckled, "You're impossible."

Cullen pulled Dorian in for a long and tight hug, the crowd around them cheering for the Inquisitor. Cheering for the

[spinster-sisters]

Sunflower. Final LTY

warnings: smut and general sexy times, also cheating so theres that

a.n: Hey guys this took 2 days to write but i will say after finishing this that consent is sexy

also this is longer than i intended

ALSO IVE SAID IT BEFORE AND ILL SAY IT AGAIN THIS WHOLE RELATIONSHIP IS FUCKED AND NOT AN EXAMPLE OF A HEALTHY RELATIONSHIP

REPOST FROM MY OLD BLOG

You are sitting on the corner of a couch in a dark hazy room, you held your knees to your chest and your head lulled onto the back of the couch.  There was music floating gently in and out of your ears, you couldn’t make out the lyrics over the soft hum of chatter in the room but you are much too drunk to care. Your body seemed too heavy to move, but once again, you didn’t mind at all. You shifted your eyes slowly around the room observing the human-shaped masses moving about the apartment or slumped into chairs like you. Normally you would feel anxious to be this vulnerable in a room this crowded, but not now. This wasn’t a “party” exactly, more of a throwback that escalated more than anyone thought it would, but still, there was nobody here who you wouldn’t call a friend. Of course, that includes him. You had always hung around in similar circles so it wasn’t surprising that he was here. But It left a sour taste in your mouth to think of the last time you came face to face.

“Fuckkkkk,” groaning you finally forced your body into a more upright position. Your body was protesting madly as the weight of gravity seemed about 10 times more powerful than average. There was a dull ache in your back as a result of the position you previously lay in so you hunched your back forward to try and work out the knots. Your eyelids were just as heavy as your head as you lifted them to scan the room more severely once more. Who were you looking for? you could have sworn that just a few seconds ago you were looking for someone. But none of the figures in front of you seemed to be what you wanted.

You didn’t have time to continue this train of thought before the fuzz in your brain lulled you back onto the couch once more. Your eyes remained open, drifting in and out of focus in one spot on the opposite side of the room. It wasn’t until one of the figures began moving your way could they seem to take in an image. Who was this guy? your drunk brain asked itself. “I think I know him,” you thought as a small pout of concentration crossed your face as the man got closer and closer. It wasn’t until he was standing directly in front of you, smiling at your clearly amusing look of confusion, that you were finally able to place his face. The pout was swapped for a drunken smile.

“Jaehyuuun!” you called slurring the final syllable of his name lifting your arms into the air. Gravity brought your arms crashing back down onto the couch beside you and you were about to push off the couch in an effort to stand up before Jaehyun placed a gentle hand on your shoulder pushing you back down.

“Don’t try,” His smile widened, “You’re just going to fall over"

You only half registered his words and were repeating them over and over in your brain trying to make some sense of them.

"you’re going to…You’re going-…You’re going tooooooo….” your mind trailed off once again

During this time Jaehyun took it upon himself to sit down next to you. The dip in the sofa through your balance through a loop and you almost toppled onto the floor again, saved only by the wild flailing of your arms in the process. As you resituated your self cross-legged on the couch facing the man, all thoughts once again seemed to leave your head once again. Your mouth hung open the slightest bit trying to regain the thoughts that occupied your head moments ago. You raked your eyes up and down the smiling man grasping at straws of thought, and for the first time, you noticed the glass situated in his left hand.  He pushed the glass twords you.

“Here I think you’ll need this to get home tonight” The kind smile still not leaving his somewhat blurry face. It was only after his words did you realize how thirsty you were and how dry your lips are. you practically lunged for the drink, grabbing it with both hands to steady yourself and taking large gulps. The water was cool and gave some relief to your spinning head as you sat back, letting the half-full glass rest lazily on your leg. Your eyes filtered around the room once again before they came to rest on him as they always seemed to do.

“Taeyong,” seemed to be the only thought your brain could hold onto at the moment.

Even in the dark and smokey room, he glowed. There was a thin sheen of sweet on his body (It was very hot in the room) but to what would have been a surprise had your drunk brain realized it, he looked remarkably sober. Your eyes drifted in and out of focus once again vaguely in the direction of him.

Jaehyun turned to follow your gaze. When he saw the target his dimples pushed themselves forward into a smile before he shook his head and turned back to you, giving your dazed face a once over then pushing himself off the couch.

You noticed his actions for the first time after this sudden movement and adjusted your head to look up at him, frowning once again. An arm (Which turned out to be yours) lifted to grasp onto the man’s arm.

“Where?” was the only thing you could slur out at the moment.

“Just to walk around” He reasoned politely with your now drooping form. His words sounded distant and foggy, but you understood them none the less and nodded exaggeratedly before releasing your grip on his forearm.

Jaehyun turned to leave, leaving you in a similar position to before he arrived. The glass that he handed you was now empty and rolling smoothly from your hand onto the carpeted floor where it landed with a soft clunk.

You sat there for what seemed like hours but was likely only a few minutes. The shapes around you moved gently as the moments ticked by. Every breath you took seemed to hum in your whole body just as slow as the minuted ticked by. Your eyes slowly shut once again, mind trailing to and from the sounds of the people, and your breathing became heavier and heavier.

“hmm” your brain though.

“I’m sleeeeeepy” you drawl in your head.

Just as your mind was about to drift into something like sleep, your body was shifted once again by the couch dipping beside you. There was a buzzing in the front of your head as your eyes forced themselves open once again.

This time you had no problem focusing on the person before you, and the sour taste you felt earlier returned as well as your pout. It was Taeyong. He was looking at you with a scrutinizing gaze. Your face blushed as the heat began building in your body, as it always did when he looked at your for too long or too hard. Taeyongs eyebrow raised slightly at your expression. He reached out a hand. His warm palm landed on your already burning cheek. Your mind was swirling once again as if you took two more shots. It continued to swirl with indistinguishable thoughts as his mouth moved to form words. It took your brain several moments to realize he was speaking to you and you only caught the tail end of his sentence.

“-doing, baby?"

Confusion spread through your features once again, making it clear you had not understood his words. Taeyong didn’t seem to mind that as he didn’t repeat his words, only allowing his hand to fall to your jean-clad knee which was still cross-legged in front of you on the couch. Its heat radiated from the spot just as it did when it was on your face. Taeyong scooched closer to you and shifted his hand to the underside of your knee to extend the leg over his lap. Your body responded without your mind by heaving the other leg to rest over him as well.

His eyes shifted forward to face the room as his fingers began swirling figure eights over your leg. His touch was soothing the furrow on your brow as you relaxed slowly from his touch, your body sinking lower and lower into the couch.

The water Jaehyun gave you earlier seemed to be allowing glimpses of clarity in your head as for the first time you realized how late it must be getting. You were beginning to lull back into your drowsy state, with the added comfort of the soft touch on your leg. But it seemed Taeyong had different plans. However slow your mind was at the moment it took you no time at all to recognize the feeling of his hand sliding up your leg. You watched the hands journey and instinctively squeezed your legs together as his hand drifted up your body leaving a buzzing trail all the way. It came to rest at the top of your thigh, where your hip met the base of your leg. Your eyes finally snapped to his own where they still looked out into the somewhat crowded room. One finger tapped on the spot, wordlessly commanding you to allow him access to your core should he so desire.

Taeyong seemed to be toying with the idea of acting farther by rubbing his hand slowly from the outside of your leg to the inside of your thigh, one finger brushing repeatedly against the seam of your jeans that ran along your hot core, which twitched every time he did so. It was clear that he could feel the reaction your body gave him, and the smirk that made its way onto his lips was evidence enough. Taeyong, though he regularly asserted his "ownership” over you by leaving dark unmistakable marks on your neck and chest and bruises on your hips from his tight grip, was usually strongly against even sitting next to you in public, much less shove his hand down your pants. The tiny sober part of your brain spoke in a quiet voice in your head.

“Do you want Taeyong to finger you in front of all your friends?” Your mind went back and forth between the two options as his hand sank lower, coming to rest securely between your now slightly pulsing heated and your thigh, rubbing his pinky slightly up and down creating friction so close to where your body wanted it. He was waiting. Waiting for you to inevitably say or do something that would allow him to continue, solidifying that he had you in his grasp once again.

It was clear the turmoil in your head was causing you a lot of distress. It was clear he made up his mind about wanting this, to do whatever he was going to do here and now. But you were still on the fence, you would normally follow his lead no questions asked and a good part of you wanted to see where this was going. But nevertheless, the sober part of your brain seemed to be growing louder and louder with each passing second, playing his last words to you over and over in your head. How many of them were true? all if it? None of it? Which did you prefer? your head swam with there questions, going back and forth to many times to count.

Finally, it was clear to you which side had won. You shook your head, clearing your thoughts. The room had finally come completely into focus, all of the noise and chatter returned to your ears. Pushing your self up with your hands you swung your legs away from him. The spot where his hand had been felt stingingly empty, but with your head now clear the only thought that occupied your head now was those moments a few nights before.

“you know what the best part is? It will fucking stay that way, cuz I know that right now you are just eating up all the attention I am giving you aren’t you, you pathetic bitch!”

You heard the small noise of surprise that escaped him as you pushed your self away from the couch. Taking the room with a new stride your located your target and moved to meet them. Jaehyun stood with a few friends talking causally. He turned to look at you when you reached the small pack where the conversation came to a pause.

“Hey, I understand if you don’t want to but I think I had a bit too much to drink and I don’t think I should go home alone, would you take me?” You asked with a plastered smile on your face. This honestly wasn’t true, you felt more awake and aware at this moment than you had in years, but walking around alone at night didn’t sound like fun. You know Jaehyun thought he was being subtle when his eyes flicked over to the man still sat on the couch, but you caught it none the less. They flicked back to you, gave you a once over, and then he smiled and nodded.

“Yeah, sure. I was going to leave anyway.” He spoke in his usual powerful yet soft voice. You had a feeling this was a lie but now was not the time.

Jaehyun was the first to move, taking a step forward, placing a hand on your lower back as he passed, and lead you through the hazy room to the exit. The two of you maneuvered through the room and around furniture before landing at the front door. Jaehyun reached out and opened the door, wide enough for the both of you to step through. In those moments that the door closed behind you, you braved one last look at Taeyong who still sat dumbfounded on the couch.

“Not so pathetic now am I,” You thought triumphantly as the door clicked shut.

———–

That night that Jaehyun walked you home, would turn into many. And as the school year drew to a close and graduation approached you found yourself in a new relationship. The first stable one you have had since high school. Jaehyun, who was once best friends with Taeyong, seemed to have no problem leaving that part of your lives behind and neither did your friends. They all saw Jaehyun as a massive improvement in both temper and manner, and you had to say you agree. You still saw Taeyong from time to time, it’s not as if you didn’t still have many friends in common, but they were rarely extended longer than a quick glance in each other’s direction. It would be a lie to say that a part of you didn’t want to run to him, but then in those moments, Jaehyun would appear in your apartment carrying take out a rented movie and those thoughts would leave as quickly as they came.

Jaehyun was just better for you, his kisses were sweeter and his eyes kinder. Enough so that on the day of your graduation it was him that earned a hardy handshake from your father and a kiss on the cheek from your mother. At that point, you had only been dating him for a few months, but he seemed perfectly content appeasing your parent’s dreams for an ideal son in law.

And that was 4 years ago. You and Jaehyun had moved to New York not long after the end of your time in college, both of you only briefly spending the summer with your parents and saying your last goodbyes to your childhood homes. You don’t know why you choose to stay with Jaehyun during this time, but it leads you to your perfectly content life you have here today. You are now 26, engaged to the man who took you home those years ago, living in a decently sized apartment in a nice neighborhood, with a good job you have held for the past 2 years, and everything in your life was perfectly content.

Jaehyun had proposed earlier that year at the restaurant you went on your first night in New York, and though no plans have been made as of yet it has not stopped your mother from absolutely gushing over the two of you calling constantly to check up on “any possible new developments” As it happens, your parents love Jaehyun just as much as the day they met him face to face. Your heart warmed when you thought of your life, a wonderful man, a good job and a promising future in both. Job is best summarized as a traveling salesman for a larger company in the city. You spent the majority of your time at the office, making calls and setting up meetings with clients, but about 2 weekends a month you would fly out to a different part of the world to meet up with your clients and make sales. It really was the perfect job for you, as it rarely ever went wrong.

Accept for today, however. You had missed your initial arranged flight in business class and had to pay out of pocket to reach your destination in the least comfortable and most noisy part of the plane, and as your flight was to pairs, it wasn’t exactly a short ride. After arriving, very jetlagged and in need of a nice bed, your luggage was lost at the airport and you had to stay well into the night trying to find your things. After finally giving up on the search you made your way to the hotel, only to find that this particular hotel did not allow guests t check-in past 11 pm. (A stupid rule honestly) and you would have to wait till morning. With your phone on its last few percentages, and stranded in a foreign city you staggard your way into a small cramped bar at the end of a street, planning on finding a place to charge your phone enough to find a cheap motel for the night.

Your bones cracked as you landed yourself in a barstool and the end of the bar. the only things you had with you were the items in your carry on and a note from the front desk of the hotel on when to arrive the next morning to check-in. The cushion of the seat was soft and plushy but it did nothing to soothe the aching in your body. You cant speak french, so when the bartender approached you, you only gestured vaguely to the now-dead phone in your hands. It seems the round looking old man understood as pointed to an outlet at the end of the bar.

All of the stools around you were empty, so you felt comfortable enough to put your bag down to plug in your phone. It was after you saw your phone flash a blue blinking light did you allow yourself to relax onto the bar.  Yours propped your head up with your hand to look around the room. It was nice enough, seemed clean and no one looked suspicious. But despite these things you could help but feel restless. You continued to shift in your seat and glance around the room.

Soon the tinkling of the bell that signified the arrival of a new customer sounded. You looked up at the sound, but the figure who entered could not be seen through the small crowd of older men sitting by the door.  Your eyes drooped slightly and closed, finally feeling the weight of the day. A few seconds passed before a hand landed on yours.

Your eyes flung open as you yanked your hand away. After the initial shock, you looked to where your hand once lay, where the new one still sat waiting. The hand was eerily familiar.

No, there was no way.

Your eyes quickly followed the slope of the arm, up to the face that only visited you in your most private thoughts.

Taeyong stood before you.

He kept his eyes on your own as he lowered himself onto the stool next to you. His eyes bore into you, in the same way, they had before, and with the same intensity, they never seemed to shed. You still sat rigid in your seat, mouth hanging open slightly in surprise. Your eyes broke the stare when the flicked over to your phone that was still charging on the wooden bar. Your first reaction was to call Jaehyun, but your brain stopped itself before making the move. He would be asleep anyway. You looked back to Taeyong and allowed yourself to really see him for the first time.

It was his smell that hit you first and filled the air around you, and it clouded your other senses just as it always had done. He wasn’t the tallest man in the world, yet his commanding presence allowed him to loom over everyone no matter their height. It briefly occurred to you that you could just get up and leave, but it was this same domineering energy that enticed you to stay rooted in your seat. He was dressed nice, in a crisp button-down and slacks, and his hair was styled neatly to the side allowing his whole face to be visible in the dim lighting of the bar. And he glowed just as radiantly as always.

Whatever intensity that you were using to study his face, he was returning to you with equal vigor as his eyes raked down your figure several times.

Finally, he was the first to speak.

“How are you” he spoke, much more casually than the situation required. He turned to face the bartender and waved him down.

“Umm, Ok?” You forced out much too long after he asked the question.

“Good, good. I'mdoing well myself."

Taeyongs voice sounded like you were old friends catching up at a weekly brunch, and quite frankly it pissed you off. Who was he to sit down and act like you hadn’t seen him in years or that the memories were good ones?  You turned in your seat to face him with your whole body, one hand still plastered on the hardwood. You sat up a bit straighter.

"Wait a minute, hold on- what exactly are you doing?-” The words built-in force and volume as you continued. Taeyong, who never had any trouble reading you, placed a feather-light hand on your once again. Your hand twitched in response but did not pull away. You could feel the familiar heat he gave you start to burn in the places where his hand made contact. And yes, he succeeded in quieting you.

The bartender approached, spoke a few words in french to Taeyong, and to your great surprise Taeyong responded in french as well. Though you don’t know exactly what was said, it was easy to guess as the older man moved to begin making whatever Taeyong had ordered. He now turned his attention back to you and raised an eyebrow, encouraging you to continue.

And after a moment you followed the instruction. You took a deep breath and spoke,

“How are you here right now?” seemed to be the best way to phrase your confusion.

“I live here now,” He said plainly, as it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“How?” was what you went with next.

“Well, after graduation I got an internship at a global bank. After 3 years, they needed someone in Paris, so I came. And here I have been for the past year.” once again far too casual for your liking. you thought of asking what he was doing in this particular bar on this particular night before it occurred to you that bankers often worked strange hours.

“So you have been living in Paris for a year? And I am just now hearing about this?"

"Did you want to know?"

His words were heavy. Much heavier than their initial meaning, and he looked at you with a kind of genuine curiosity you had never seen in him before. The honest answer was kind of. At the beginning of your time in New York, you would often find your self wondering what became of Taeyong. You still spoke to many of the old friends you made in college and had subtly expressed this interest to those closest to you. You almost expected them to tell you if anything big happened to the man. Nevertheless, you shook your head no.

He gave you a look that simply said "You can’t lie to me” but he didn’t push the subject any further.

“So what have you been doing?” He asked back in his casual tone, taking a sip of one of the drinks the bartender had just places in front of the two of you. You were in no way here to get drunk but decided to sip on the drink nevertheless.  You stared straight forward, placing both hands on the bar as you responded.

“Um, working mostly. Here on business, you know?” You tried speaking in the same casual tone, but it sounded much to forced to be genuine.

“Right,” He responded. It sounded somewhat distracted. Out of curiosity you looked back at him and found him staring intently at your left hand, or at the ring would be a better way to put it. You don’t know why but you felt slightly embarrassed. You flushed a little and shifted your hand away from his gaze.  He seemed to finally realize he was staring and looked up to meet your eyes.

“So you are-"

"engaged, yeah”  It felt extremely wrong to let him say that word, so you beat him to it. He arches an eyebrow inquisitively and asked.

“To?”

You didn’t want to admit it. Your life in New York seemed so far away right now and the last thing you wanted was for Taeyong to be aware of it. Your head dropped to stare at the wood grain as you responded.

“Uhh, Jaehyun” You didn’t know what to expect from his reaction, so you spoke hesitantly and barely above a whisper.

“Ah”

There was a flash of something dark in his eyes, and for a second he looked much more like the man you knew back in college. But he did not seem to want to speak about it anymore. Instead, he took another deeper drink, and you followed suit. The two of you sat in a tension-filled silence for several minutes. The hum of noise from the bar patrons was not enough to drown off the thoughts racing through your head. You glanced up at Taeyong for a moment. He looked deep in thought, and it was this that made you noticed how different he was. He looked fuller, his eyes and cheeks looked less sunken in and his body a tad bit more toned than he was before, and most of all his glow was different. Before it was a red haze that made your heart race, and now it was a golden glow that stoped all thoughts. These differences would have been indistinguishable to the untrained eye, but you, who had spent so long gushing over every inch of him could spot them clear as day. You probably knew his face better then he knew it himself.

It was here that it occurred to you that you were likely a bit different as well, in what ways you did not know, but you had a suspicion he could point them out. Taeyong moved to speak and was only able to get the first few words out.

“Look, I-” The tone of his voice was enough to tell you what he was going to say, and it was too unlike him for your liking

“Taeyong please don’t apologize” You could explain why but you wanted those memories of him to be intact, and if he apologized it would change the way you saw those moments together. He looked taken aback but pressed on.

“I just want you to know, that you meant more to me back then than you will probably ever know.” He took another drink and looked straight ahead. You found this to be a hard revelation to follow.

“Funny way of showing it” you murmured more to yourself than to him. But he heard you nonetheless and followed up his previous words.

“I am aware that I was awful, and you won’t catch me making excuses for the way I acted. I was selfish and cruel to everyone in my life. I always wanted more than I had, even if I couldn’t stand the idea of losing something. I guess the best way to put it is that I wanted you to need me but I didn’t want to need you.”

His words were genuine, that you could tell. But you didn’t know if they made you feel any better. All they seemed to do was prove that you weren’t enough for him. This seemed to show on your face, and Taeyong was oh so good and reading you. He did not speak, he just reached out and grabbed your hand tightly. His warm fingers burned in comparison to the cold metal of your ring. But you could only seem to focus on the heat. His hand firmly grounded you in your place when your head felt like you were going to float away.

After a few more moments he lifted his hand just enough to gently circle his fingers over the back of your hand. The action felt so familiar. He always had a habit of “Petting” your, whether it is your hand or your face. You suppose this just proves he isn’t that different from back then after all. The things he did that made your heart ache for him remained the same.

His hand began ghosting it was up your arm, leaving a gentle buzz wherever he touched. Your heart fluttered, which it hasn’t done in a long time. Fuck. Why is it that he still had this power over you, even when he wasn’t trying. It wasn’t fair. You had always known that he would always have a place in your heart. But you never knew how large of a part it was until his hand moved onto your back rubbing it in circles. You leaned into his touch.

With his other hand, he finished the rest of his drink.

“Shouldn’t you be getting some sleep?” He asked, finally addressing how late it was.

“My hotel won’t let me check-in.” You replied distantly feeling the tickle of his hand. He looked conflicted for a moment then spoke.

“You can stay at my apartment for the night if you would like.”

You both knew what would happen if you said yes. There was no way it wouldn’t. You thought of Jaehyun, and how good he had been to you, and how he would feel if he knew that you had even seen Taeyong. You mulled it over for several minutes. But the soothing hand on your back somehow pushed all thoughts of your fiance from your mind.

Finally, you took one last swig from your drink.

“I would like that."

——-

it did not take long after that. Taeyong paid for the drinks, insisting after you pulled out your wallet. The two of you exited the bar, hand in hand which felt a tab bit too natural.

When you arrived in the apartment (a verrry nice apartment) there was very little pretending. You removed your shoes as he had done and waited for his command. At this point, you had submitted to the idea of needing him. He just filled you with a desire that no one else could. Taeyong reattached your hands and lead you over his shoulder, through the dark rooms. Every step forward left you with more and more anticipation, you needed this so much.

The door to his bedroom was pushed open. It was large and elegant. Beautiful furnishing and a soft glow emanated from the lamp next to his bed.  But you weren’t paying much attention to the room, instead, you were watching him. From the view of his back, you could tell just how much he wanted this too. He released your hand and continued to walk forward, rolling his shoulders as he did so. He is so beautiful, even when you couldn’t see his face. you felt a magnetic pull to him, leading your next actions. Taeyong moved onto his bed, he situated himself on in the middle, his back resting on the headboard. He looked at you so intently, so expectantly, as though he could see right through your clothes. Which, you had to remind yourself, he had seen you completely bare before, many times.

"Will you strip for me, baby?” He phrased it like a question, though there was no doubt you would do it. The only nickname was enough to bring your to your knees, but you stayed standing. He didn’t tell you to kneel. The first layer to come off was your sweater, which concealed the thin shirt you had on underneath. Next was the shirt itself which you did not hesitate to pull over your head.  You suddenly thought of the tattoo on your ribs, the one that had angered him so much before. Your breath hitched, not wanting him to leave you again. But he showed no sign of anger. Instead, his desire only grew in his eyes.

The bra you chose for the day was nothing special, just a plain pink color, but he looked at you like you are the only thing in the world. His eyes were hungry and needy, willing you to move faster. But his actions did not betray his composure, but you could see the outline of his dick starting to strain itself against his slacks. And if your brain was functioning properly you would have noticed how your mouth watered.  

“keep going Baby, its been so long since I’ve seen your body.” He cooed at you.

You unbuckled your pants and slid them down your legs and stepped out of them. You were dangerously close to throwing yourself at him but more than anything you wanted to obey. You unclasped your bra and let it fall to the floor. Your naked chest was now bare. The cold air nipped at your skin, causing your nipples to harden. You blushed a little dusting of pink, that only burned brighter at his next words.

“I wanna see your pussy baby” He remained, growing somewhat impatient. The words caused heat to flood to your core making it wetter and stickier than before. You hooked your finger into the waistband of your panties and pulled them down. His smirk grew into a wild smile and the sight of arousal glistening on your heat.  Taeyong used his finger to motion you onto the bed and you followed quickly. Your body was burning with both slight embarrassment and desire, but with your ruined panties still hanging from your finger you clambered onto the bed. You kneeled in front of his relaxed fully dressed figure. And though he was situated below you, you felt so small as his eyes raked up and down your body. His wicked smile never left his face as he reached out and took the soaked pink panties from your hand. He held them tightly in his hand and motioned you to straddle his waist. Which you did obediently. Your pussy was now resting directly on the tent in his slacks dampening the fabric. He groaned out slightly at the feeling.

“Your so wet Baby, your dripping on me. Who made you this wet baby.” He spoke in a coddling voice, as his hands came to rest on your naked hips, swirling from there down to your ass, giving it a tight squeeze before trailing back to their original position, never letting go of your panties. You squeaked in response to the invading touch.

“Baby, that’s not an answer”

“It’s you,” you said in a small voice.

“Speak up baby, I can hear you” He teased. Rolling his sinful hips into yours. The rough surface of his pants rubbed against your clit and you nearly choked.

“It’s you Taeyong” you spoke with a little more force. This seemed to appease him.

“That’s right, me, not anyone else.” He spoke definitively. You knew what he meant. He was referring to Jaehyun, who is likely just waking up to go to work about now.

His words were eerily familiar. Your mind flashed back to the night when he first saw your tattoo and the screaming match that took place. He had spoken to you the same way. Possessive, reminding you who had all of your desire, who could make you feel better than anyone else and how much you needed him.

But you didn’t have time to think about that because Taeyong attached himself to your lips with his own pillowy ones. The sensation of kissing Taeyong was just as intoxicating as it always had been. He took the lead and pried open your mouth with his tongue. His hands firmed their grip on your waist, and the wet spot from your panties felt sticky against your side. His tongue slipped it’s way inside your mouth, exploring it in the way he had always done before. He even tasted the same.

Your mind was going cloudy as your mouths moved in sync. Just as you had found your rhythm Taeyong broke the kiss. He practically threw you onto your back and move to loom over you. You yelped loudly in surprise, but once again he did not give you time to react before folding your legs to your chest and holding them in place. His entire attention was focused on your glistening pussy, raking his eyes over it over and over again. He leaned back only long enough to set your panties down at the top of the bed, before returning to the previous position. Using one had to keep your legs in place he used the other to brush over the sticky surface, which twitches at the touch.

“Aw, baby, look how pretty your little cunt is.” He remarked before sliding his middle finger into your hole. You moaned loudly, not expecting the feeling of being entered so soon. The juices from your arousal eased his way as he pumped the finger in and out.

“Still so tight to, when was the last time anyone fucked your right?” He asked, but did not expect an answer through the moans as he dived into your core, his tongue finding its purchase on your swollen clit. You squirmed violently in his grip, keening and mewling all the while.

“Too long apparently” He mused coming away from your cunt just long enough to say the words, before diving back in swirling his tongue around your folds, his finger still pumping quickly letting more juices flow. In those brief moments, you could see his face, it was already dripping with your arousal making his lips look plumper than before if possible.

He continued the ministration with intensity, adding another finger into your hole, and occasionally nibbling slightly at your flesh. You practically screaming yourself hoarse as time went on. You were so aroused you could feel the juice the wasn’t lapped up by Taeyongs Tounge drip onto the bedcovers below you.

’“You’re making such a mess” He growled into your core. The vibrations from his words traveled into and up your body, causing you to latch your hands into his hair. Without breaking his stride Taeyong momentarily released your legs only long enough to detach your hands from his hair and hold them by the wrist together, then using the same arm hold your legs back in position.  The slight discomfort was nothing compared to the burning in your tummy, which was knotting itself tightly waiting to come undone.

“Tae-” you were going to inform him in your now hoarse voice that you were going to cum any minute, however, he beat you to the punch once again.

“Trust me, baby, I know"

of course, he did.

Your movements were now much more restricted but you could only writhe when he pushed a third long finger into you stretching the limits of your cunt. He continued to suck on your bud harshly, but it was the feeling of the three fingers moving inside you at a deliberate pace, pushing against your walls oh so deliciously that caused the knot in your stomach to snap.  You came hard, your entire body convulsed as Taeyongs finger pumped you through the feeling, drawing out the waves of pleasure radiating from your pussy. Your eyes squeezed shut as you cried out in a broken voice.

To soon the feeling passed. You lay there damn near lifeless, but that didn’t stop Taeyong from lapping up all of the arousal from your cunt, which twitched in sensitivity every time his tongue made contact. You involuntarily moved away from his mouth, but he wouldn’t let you move until he had lapped up every last drop. Finally, he gave you the relief of moving away. The tightness you had been holding finally releasing. You opened your eyes just enough to see him lean back on his heels and slip each glistening finger into his mouth, one by one, and suck them clean. You burned with embarrassment and tried to hide your face, but you had nowhere to hide with your hands still being restricted. Finally, he looked directly into your flushed face and gave you a lopsided smile, his face still covered in a sticky gleam.

"Sorry baby, you just taste so good.”

After his words, he finally released you from his arms. Your legs were a little sore, but you couldn’t care less. You were exhausted enough to fall asleep where you lay, but of course, Taeyong wouldn’t allow that.

Finally, Taeyong unbuttoned his shirt and threw it away. You were so transfixed by him. He was just so god damn beautiful and looked radiant in the dim light. You were so busy staring you barely noticed him undo his pants and pull his dick out his boxers. It looked painfully hard and red, and you moved to sit up to take it in your hand, but you were pushed back down.  Taeyong pumped his dick a few times, spreading the precum down his length making it shine.

“Ah, ah, ah Baby. No time for that, I need to remind you how it feels to be fuck by someone who knows what they are doing.” The subtle jab did not go unnoticed. But fuck if you thought about it for more than a second with the anticipation of being filled up, rose in you once again.  Taeyong pushed your legs up once again, and though your joints protested you did not.

He gave his dick one more pump, before leaning over you and lining himself up with your entrance. He leaned especially close into your ear, speaking into the shell of it and whispered.

“Do you want me, Baby? Want me to fuck you like you deserve"

The words flooded your aching heat with arousal once again.

"Yes please, fill me up Tae, please” the last word came out more like a whisper than anything, but he heard you nonetheless. And he did not need to be told twice. In one powerful thrust, he pushed all the way into you. You didn’t have to voice to cry out but instead released a sicking mewl.

“Fuck” was the only thing that came out of his mouth before he pulled out and repeated the action. Slowly he built up a steady pace. It was not as fast or rough as you expected, but more of a steady deep movement, but it left you breathless nonetheless. Every single movement stretched your walls, and you would feel every inch of him moving in and out. It was blissful. You could have stayed like that forever. But the need for release was growing in you with every thrust. It seemed like Taeyong agreed, picking up the pace and angling himself to hit the special spot inside you with every thrust.

Now you were keening with every thrust, releasing a whimper every time. in your current position, you couldn’t move to meet his thrust but you could wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer, which he didn’t seem to mind. The weight of his body was heavy on yours, and you could feel the muscles in his shoulders tighten beneath your fingers.

“aw, baby, you feel so fucking good. You like the way I fuck you?” he asked in your ear. You only moaned in response, trying your hardest to stay composed. but that didn’t last long when Taeyongs hand came down to rub circles into your swollen and abused clit. It hurt, but in such a pleasurable way. You threw your head back.

“You gonna cum already baby?” he asked, the rasp you recognized so well returning to his voice.

“yes,  gonna cum…..” was all that you could force out. Your stomach was clenched so tight you felt like your pussy was trying to keep his cock inside you. You felt so good and full.

“Its ok baby, you can cum” He punctuated his statement with a particularly hard thrust that reached deep inside you.

And not long after you felt yourself unravel for a second time, only this time it lasted much longer. The waves of pleasure didn’t stop coming as he milked the feeling of your walls clenching and pulsing around him. His cock was throbbing too, just as much as your walls.

“Aw, baby you feel- feel so fucking good"

those were his last words before releasing inside you. You could feel the oversensitivity seeping in and you could hear the cum squelching out of you as he rode out his own orgasm before pulling out.

You both lay there panting for a bit, holding onto the moments before one of you would move. This time you did it first, pushing yourself up onto your arms and looking at the heavenly sweat coated man laying on top of you. Taeyong took one last deep breath before pushing himself up as well. He leaned forward and placed a kiss on your temple before speaking.

"let’s get cleaned up.”

The drew you a bath and helped relaxed your aching body. When you were clean it was him that dressed you in your discarded shirt on the floor.

That night you fell asleep in his bed, with his naked back pressed firmly against yours, and his arms wrapped tightly around your body.

In the morning you awoke to the sound of birds chirping outside the window. You heard his gentle breathing in your ear, still, sound asleep. The clock on the nightstand read 7:24. You were expected to check into your hotel in an hour. You looked down at yourself as you sat up. The ring on your finger glinted mockingly, sighing you got to your feet. You would rather not be here for the inevitable conversation when he wakes up.

You moved quickly around the room, gathering your things and dressing yourself fully. There was one problem, you couldn’t find your underwear. After searching for a few more minutes and a scare from Taeyongs stirring you gave up on the idea of getting them back and left.

Going back to the life that you turned your back on that night.

[erzherzog-von-edelstein]

Birth Right

Characters: Prussia (Teutonic Knights), Germania

Summary: A Young Teutonic Knight has a conversation with his father.

Word Count: 3.2K

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The fire was burning low in the hearth as the servants rushed around, attempting to at least make their failing empire comfortable. Germania was laid in the bed, taking weak breaths that shook his massive body. Even under layers of furs, he was shaking. There was no chance of healing him or changing this fate; he was dying. He had outlasted Rome and all the other empires that had challenged him. But, no country was immortal. That was the simple truth of the matter and it was immutable. His sword and armor were laid out on a table as though he would spring up at any moment and seize them.

A lord, a vassal to one of the king's sons, approached Germania. The blonde man was awake and conscious, just weak. He spoke to the lord, one of the few who were not busy fighting in the savage civil war pulling the empire apart, and his voice rattled, "Send for my sons." He paused to pull in a shaking breath, before saying, "I have to bequeath my lands to them." It was this statement that made it perfectly clear that Germania knew he was dying. If he was ready to divide his lands like a mortal king, then there was truly no chance of his survival.

The lord said, obliging his empire, "I will send out knights immediately to inform them." He then asked a necessary qualification, the one that the entire court had been whispering about as the Empire visibly weakened, "All of them, sire?" Germania's blue eyes fixed on him questioningly as though he had not quite understood the question. Then he said, "Yes, all of them."

The mortal nodded, and turned and left the vast empire on his deathbed. In his mind, he wondered if the empire would even last long enough for a messenger to reach far-flung Poland to reach the son in exile.

_______________________________________________________________________

Gilbert sat at a table, a flickering candle his only light source, running his finger under lines of text in a manuscript. His mind still stumbled over some of the words and letters, but he was making progress. The Hochmeister had told him that it was important to be literate in order to be able to read scripture. Life was supposed to be equal parts prayer and training to fight wearing the cross. But, one came far easier to Gilbert.

He felt antsy when he was forced to sit and work on manuscripts. He was aware that his sword was sitting on the other side of the room, and it would only take him a few minutes to grab it and go out to the training yard. Instead he was stuck here pawing over the complicated lettering of this manuscript. He got lost somewhere in the Latin and had to refocus his attention at the beginning of the page.

There was a sound at the door, which sounded like a hesitant knock. He grabbed a small knife that he kept with him on him at all the time. Then he reminded himself that here he was safe, here no one accused him of being a demon and sought to harm him. He put the knife back down again and stood, leaving the heavy manuscript behind on the table. When he opened the door, the young knight on the other side, who was wearing the black cross of the Teutonic order, took a subtle step backwards. Gilbert was used to this reaction when he was faced with new people. This man must have been from a different garrison because Gilbert didn't recognize him.

But, the knight had enough discipline to stop from reacting too extremely to the albino's appearance. He said, clearly following orders, "A knight from the king has arrived for you." Gilbert remembered how much he had shut himself off from the distant politics of his father's empire. He was not aware of who was king at this point in time. But he also knew that this order pledged itself to serving the empire, so when a message came from the king, they were obliged to listen.

This message was not actually from the king, though, if it was meant for Gilbert himself. That meant that it came directly from his father. That, in itself, was surprising. Since Gilbert had been sent to live here, his father had made no attempt to contact him until now. He glanced down at himself for only a moment to make sure that he looked at least decent. He was not dressed in formal garb, but what he was wearing was in order. He was too anxious to attempt to change into something more appropriate. So, he closed his door and followed the young knight through the stone halls to the chapel where there were two men standing, bathed by the light of multiple lit candles.

Gilbert recognized one as the Landmeister of Marienburg, the man who was currently responsible for him, but the other did not wear the black and white of the order. This mortal must be the one that had ridden from the heart of the Empire to speak to him. First, he inclined his head to his commanding officer and then did the same to the foreign knight. Without any hesitation, the foreigner said, "Your father is dying and has requested that you come back."

Gilbert's first reaction was to shake his head and take a step backwards. His father could not be dying. It was rare for countries to die, and it seemed completely unthinkable that Germania could succumb to internal fighting. However, he remembered what he had been taught. Part of combat was discipline, and that discipline could be applied in this situation. Not certain what he should feel or say, Gilbert said shortly, "I understand. Must we depart imminently?"

The man looked as though that had not been given any orders on that point. But, he responded, "Your father's health is failing, it is hard to say when he may succumb. It would be best to leave as soon as you are ready." The Landmeister cut in and said, "There are provisions that must be made tonight. I will send Gilbert to you in the morning."

The albino nodded, thankful for the time to attempt to deal with his own emotions. The commander then turned his attention to the other two mortals in the room. He spoke to the man that was subordinate; "This man has ridden for several days straight. Find him quarters." The discipline within the order was absolute. So, the messenger was immediately escorted away with the pretense of finding quarters.

But once they were alone, the mortal turned to Gilbert and said, "You took that news well." Gilbert responded as honestly as he could, "My father hasn't contacted me since he sent me here. And yet, when he is dying he sends for me. What am I supposed to think of that?"

He walked slowly towards the altar, not conscious of what he was doing. He had been told that he should go first to God in his times of doubt. This was certainly one of them. He should be saddened by the news that his father was dying. But, he was having trouble feeling anything about it. Perhaps it was because he only comprehended it in the abstract. His mortal commander followed him and said, "You must believe that he wishes to make a mends with you before he dies."

Gilbert nodded wished that he could believe that. He wanted to believe that his father regretted sending him into monastic exile, but that seemed to be a fantasy. He also wished he could feel resentment about this situation, but the truth was that he had found acceptance in this order like he never had anywhere else. Here very few people could gawk at him or judge for his appearance. In this monastery, he could finally avoid it all and learn to fight. Although he could resent what the choice meant about what his father thought of him, he could not begrudge the choice itself because it afforded him so much freedom.

He tried to voice these feelings, even if his adolescent mind did not quite understand them, "Why would he choose this moment? It doesn't make sense." The mortal responded sagely, attempting to sooth the fiery teen, "Men reveal feelings when they feel life slipping away that they never dare express when they have vitality and strength. You may be immortal, but your emotions are human."

Again, Gilbert wanted to accept this logic but it was hard. He looked directly at the cross on the altar, hoping that he could get some kind of divine guidance in this instance. As always, the cross remained silent. But, the mortal continued to talk to him, "You are his eldest son, aren't you?" Gilbert responded, but only out of conditioning, "Yes." The response elicited the information that Gilbert already knew, "Then you are heir to his empire."

Again, Gilbert only nodded. He knew this already, but he had denied himself those ambitions for so long. It was a sin to imagine that he could become an empire when his father died; it was pride and ambition. Moreover, he feared the idea because he had never been taught how to be an empire. Certainly, the knights had taught him about leadership. But that was leadership earned, not leadership inherited. But, now that he allowed the thought to grow, it was exciting that he could, at this young age, have power over most of central Europe.

The feelings dueled with each other in his head, allowing only one to have dominance at once. He said, trying to hide what he was actually feeling, "Tell me what I should do. I don't know what to do." The Landmeister took a step in front of him and put both of his hands on the albino's shoulders. He said, his tone stern, "Spend the night in prayer. Look to God for the answers. In the morning, depart and go to your father's side." ______________________________________________________________

The light from many candles and a central fire lit Germania's room as he sat up, only aided by a pair of servants. His body was far too weak now for him to lift himself. The civil war that had finally done enough damage that his once strong body could no longer support itself. He was very rarely alone anymore, with all the retainers he required to continue living. He wondered if Rome had suffered this way during his own fall. He had so easily taken land from Rome to forge his own empire, and only now did he wonder what pain he had caused.

The door opened and a young blonde boy entered, guided by his own retainer. As soon as he saw his father, he ran forward to the bedside, ignoring all rules of decorum and order. He cried out, "Vati!" His cry made it clear how distressed he was seeing his father in this state. Germania extended his hand to his son, attempting to convey some comfort.

The boy took the large hand in both of his own as he said, "Are you really dying, Vati?" The boy was attempting to hold in his emotions, but he was young and they were pouring out. As his father slowly nodded, tears began to roll down his round cheeks. He wasn't ready to be without a father. He wasn't ready to be alone.

The door opened again, this time admitting an older blonde boy, who looked immediately to his younger brother. He walked over to the young boy and put his hand on his shoulder. He said, speaking not yet to his father, "Be strong, Max." The younger of the two responded immediately and tearfully, "But, Vash, I don't want Vati to die!"

Vash only tightened his grip on his brother's shoulder and said, "We all have to face this eventually." Hardily a teen yet, Vash nonetheless showed maturity beyond his years. He was as he always had been, quiet but strong. Germania surveyed his sons. They were both exceptional in their own ways, but they were both young to take on the burden of being responsible for such vast lands. His mind had been occupied recently with nothing but the inheritance of his sons. He had already made the decision of who would inherit his title of the Holy Roman Empire. But he had to consider all his sons. There were outside forces to consider and he had to leave his sons with enough strength to defend themselves.

The door opened again, this time the entire room fell silent. All eyes went directly to Gilbert. The mortals had never seen him before, so they stared at him. Gilbert felt all the eyes on him as he walked into the room, but he was expecting it. What he was not expecting was the way that both of his brothers glared at him as though he was interrupting something intimate. He was tempted to pull of hood of his white cloak over his head and leave again.

But, he wasn't here for his brothers' approval. He focused his attention on his father, who looked like a shadow of himself. His blonde hair was still braided, but it looked unkempt. There were very prominent dark circles under his eyes as well. Germania's blue eyes found the albino and a look passed over his face that was completely unreadable. For a moment, Gilbert wondered if the look could be approval, or possibly the opposite. He decided to withhold any judgment or reaction until his father spoke.

He already wanted to flee back to his monastery where he could go to the training yard and take out all of his feelings with a sword. This was not his arena and he felt completely out of place. But, he was here for a reason and he couldn't let himself forget that. He still stopped just behind his brothers, consciously putting himself on the periphery.

Once Gilbert stopped walking, his father started talking. He was taking halting breaths between each word he said, "Now that you're all here. There is the matter of inheritance." Gilbert found himself wondering why it was even necessary for his brothers to be there. The laws of inheritance were clear. The eldest son should inherit the title, even if land was given to the younger. It should be a clear case. He shifted his weight uncomfortably as he waited for the inevitable proclamation.

Germania continued, "I have thought hard about this. Vash will inherit the lands between the land of the Franks and the Italian peninsula." He paused and Gilbert felt anxiety in his throat. He knew what his right was, but he still felt uncertain. His father continued speaking, "Maximilian will inherit my title and become the Holy Roman Empire."

Gilbert felt the air go out of his lungs as his tearful younger brother, his youngest brother, take the title that should belong to him. He had only begun to wish for the title, only to have it stolen away from him. He could do nothing but stand there. He didn't even hear the words as his father gave his brothers his blessing and bid them leave the room. Gilbert refused to leave.

He was owed something, anything. It was not conceivable that he could be left with only the small spit of land along the Baltic Sea that he currently had. He was certain he had been told to leave the room, but he didn't care. He waited for his obedient brothers to leave before finally speaking, glaring at his father as he did so, "What am I to be left with, Father?"

Germania's eyes hardened and he responded with an ire that mirrored Gilbert's, "You will do as you've been doing. Any land that belongs to the Teutonic order belongs to you." Frustrated, Gilbert turned and started walking around the room. He loved the land he had, the freedom to be a knight if he wished. But, he still felt cheated.

He finally asked the question that had been on his mind for a while. It could explain this situation, but he didn't want it to be true. Not daring to look directly at his father, he said, "Am I bastard born? Is that why you sent me away?" He had been dwelling on this thought for more than a decade. He knew that it was common practice to put a lord's bastard in a monastic order to hide their existence. He didn't know the truth about his parentage, and with his father dying it was his only chance to ask. Germania seemed completely unsurprised by the question, but Gilbert could only judge by the sound of his voice, "No, you are true born."

As Gilbert turned, ready to ask another question, Germania raised one shaking hand. He said, counting on the albino's silence, "I should have known that my pagan ways would not be forgotten." Gilbert interrupted, tired of listening to stories without any explanation, "I do not want to hear about your conversion. I have learned about God in the monastery you sent me to."

All he got for his outburst was his father's scornful gaze. Then, as he seethed, Germania continued, "Then you know He does not forgive. I sinned, I killed in the name of pagan gods, and I betrayed Romulus. God punished me by marking my first born." Suddenly, Gilbert understood, this was still about his appearance. Even his father couldn't see past it.

He couldn't form a response; the empty feeling in his chest was too strong. Instead, he took a small step backwards and shook his head. Apparently addressing Gilbert's reaction, Germania said, "You do know how you look, don't you?" This time Gilbert was sure to respond with anger. He was well aware that his hair was white and his eyes were red, he had been told and he had seen his reflection in still water. He had seen the way mortals stared and him. He had seen the way superstitious peasants would whisper and turn away. He was constantly reminded what he looked like and he had no illusions about how abnormal it was.

He said, his voice cracking as he spoke, "I know what I look like! Do you really think this is a punishment from God?" He gestured to his own face in an attempt to convey what he meant. His father nodded slowly, almost like the action pained him. He looked like he wanted to speak again, but Gilbert took a step forward. Rage had overtaken all other emotions. He spoke, his voice still struggling to keep up with his emotions, "I didn't choose this!"

He was too angry to even feel heartbroken, or betrayed. The only emotion he felt was anger. Unable to continue to stand in this room, to even be in proximity to the man who had denied him. He stormed to the door and slammed it, saying as he did so, "Keep your empire, I'll get one on my own."

[dracowars]

Hii! So i have seen that your request is currently open! Also that you are kind of new here (i guess? Idrk)! I was wondering if i could request one? The story goes like draco pulls a prank on y/n (any kind really its up to you!) then later on showers her with his love (gift too because we all know he got the ✨ money money ✨ so thats it! (Its very fluffy im sorry) i hope you can do it totally alright if you cant tho!! I hope to see more of your works! God Bless💗

fun and games | draco malfoy

pairing: draco x slytherin!reader

word count: 3,3k

summary: where draco takes pranking y/n too far

a/n: thank you so so much for requesting! <3 since this is my first ever request i'm a little bit nervous >.< i really hope that you like it and that it lives up to your expectations! i feel honored that you trusted me with your request even though i'm still pretty new on here ♡

warnings: none

universe: harry potter

You can't remember when it started, you only know that it did and that it slowly starts to annoy the hell out of you. Not because you don't understand fun, you really do, but you can't even spend a quiet minute with your boyfriend Draco anymore since he started acting like Fred and George Weasley, always pulling a prank on you with every possibility he got.

Some of those were actually funny and made you laugh, but at some point it just got too much. Every time you are with him now, you expect something to happen. Whether it is that he calls you to him to show you fantastic beasts that do not exist, making you look like a fool while he laughs, or that he hides two of your belongings somewhere around Hogwarts, telling you that it is actually three objects that you then have to search for like crazy. He even gave you Veritaserum once, just to ask you an endless number of questions which you inevitably had to answer. All of that you already went through. But today was somewhat different.

Draco did not pull a prank on you for weeks now, which you can not complain about at all, in fact you are quite happy about it. After his last prank you asked him to finally stop and it seems like he listened to you. Still, something feels very weird.

You haven't seen Draco today, which is rather unusual for you and your relationship because neither of you can last longer than a few hours without the other. You have just come out of your Defense Against the Dark Arts class and look around the hallway, expecting to spot him somewhere, while your classmates walk past you to head to their break. Usually, Draco always picks you up after class so that you can spend time together until your next course. But you don't see him anywhere today.

At the end of the hallway you spot Fred and George trying to sell one of their newest and greatest inventions to a first-year. You shake your head and roll your eyes. These two are probably responsible that your boyfriend had his prank phase, even though he absolutely despises every Weasley. Of course Draco would never admit it, but you think that he copied a lot from them.

"Leave the poor child alone, Weasley's", you tell them while passing them, not wanting to wait longer for Draco to pick you up. Regrettably you shouldn't have opened your mouth because all of a sudden they apparate in front of you out of nowhere, making you flinch and taking a step back. "What, Y/N? Did I hear you correctly?", George says, wiggling his eyebrows at Fred. "You really want to test our new creation?", Fred adds with a smile.

"No, thank you. I've had enough of pranks lately", you assure them with a forced smile. Obviously offended by your statement, the red haired twins cross their arms over their chest, giving you a disapproving look before vanishing again. Shaking your head, you make your way to your common room, hoping to meet Draco on the way there. Unfortunately, that does not happen and you slowly start to have a bad feeling. Where is he?

Once you arrive in the dungeons, you say the password and enter the common room, which is cosy warm in contrast to the cold corridors outside. After all, it's winter; what else should you expect from the temperature? Several Slytherin's buzz around, sitting at the green fire or studying at the tables. But still, no sign of Draco.

You spot Crabbe and Goyle on one of the sofas, who have their eyes focused on you. As soon as they realize that you look back at them, they burst into giggles and look away as if nothing happened. Their weird behavior lets you frown in confusion. Before you can confront them about it, Pansy suddenly appears right in front of you and thus into your field of vision.

"Y/N! We want to go down to the lake in a few minutes. It's frozen solid for the first time this year! Do you want to join us?", she offers, her outfit already perfectly adapted to the cold temperature outside. "Do you know where Draco is?", you blurt out, not answering to her question at all. "No? Why would I?", Pansy responds irritated.

You loudly breathe out. "Nevermind. Enjoy your trip to the lake", you wish her and give her a small smile, then walk past her and towards your room in the girls' dormitories. You don't miss the look that Crabbe and Goyle give you as well as their giggles when you make your way out of the big room though.

While walking your gaze falls on something laying on the ground and you immediately stop in your tracks abruptly. You bend down and pick it up in amazement, a now much bigger smile forming on your lips. In your delicate hand you're now holding a rose petal. Looking in front of you, you notice more rose petals on the floor. They seem to show you the way to your room.

It must have been Draco, he definetely wants to surprise you after a stressful day, you are sure about that. Quickly and with unbelievable enthusiasm you follow the path to your closed door. You imagine how you will open the door and come into your room, there will be a romantic atmosphere with warm candlelight and Draco will lovingly greet you, hug you and kiss you until-

SPLASH

You have just opened the door when suddenly a huge mass of cold water falls down on you, completely soaking you from head to toe. Because of the shock and the sudden coldness surrounding you, you gasp for air. In front of you, you do not see your desired romantic atmosphere or any candles, but only your laughing boyfriend.

"I got you again!", Draco rejoices and praises himself while you can only watch him in shock. You look down at yourself and lift one of your feet out of the puddle beneath you which you are now standing in. Water drips from your hair and your uniform to the floor. Your boyfriend's cheeky laugh echoes in your ears. Slowly your whole body begins to tremble, although you are not sure wheather it comes from the cold water or from the anger boiling up inside of you.

Assuming that you find the successful prank as funny as he does, he keeps laughing, not noticing your anger yet. "Fred and George did the same prank with Weaselbee the other day, so I had to try it out as well. It worked! Crabbe and Goyle helped me set it up and-"

"I hate you so much!", you scream at him angrily, no longer able to keep your anger under control. Draco's expression falls immediately, obviously not expecting this kind of a reaction. You are still stiffly standing under the door frame, stretching your arms away from your body to somehow escape the extreme cold, water still running down, even under your clothes. "Why do you never know when it's time to stop?! I thought you wanted to surprise me!"

A little taken aback, Draco slowly approaches you while you are busy with wringing out your wet hair. "Don't you dare touch me now, Draco Malfoy!", you command and he obeys your words, stopping a few inches in front of you. "Love, it was just supposed to be fun..", he mumbles dejected, insecurely rocking back and forth on his feet, slowly realizing his mistake.

"Yeah, of course. For you it's always all fun and games until someone dies!", you angrily rebuke him. "I'm completely wet, I'm damned cold, as if it wasn't already cold enough outside, and all I wanted is to spend a relaxing and nice afternoon with my boyfriend who, as always, only got nonsense in his mind and not thinks about his girlfriend's feelings!", you complain, getting rid of your wet cloak while bumping into him with your shoulder as you walk past, throwing it onto your bed. You sit down next to it on the soft mattress and take off your soaking wet shoes as well. For a few minutes there is nothing but silence between you two.

"Y/N..", Draco breaks the silence, but you just shoot him a scathing glance, your lower lip now trembling from the coldness surrounding your body. "I don't want to hear anything, Draco. Really", you scoff and roll your eyes, standing up to finally get out of your uncomfortable clothes. "Can you leave, please? I want to change", you ask him reproachfully, but he doesn't move a single bit.

"I'm responsible for this so let me help you, okay? I'm sorry", he says, sincerity in his sad voice. You can't even answer him as he already pulls out his wand and casts a spell you don't recognize. The puddles on the floor disappear and your clothes are suddenly dry again. All that is left is the unbearable cold around you. Freezing, you draw your cloak tighter around you and give Draco a very small but thankful smile.

He looks at you thoughfully before spreading his arms to invite you into a warm hug, which you gladly accept. Even though you're mad at him, he still manages to make you soften again. You wrap your arms tightly around his waist and he gently strokes your back with one hand in hopes to warm you up at least a little bit, then places a gentle kiss of the top of your head and hugs you even tighter, pulling you closer to his much warmer body. He can clearly feel your body tremble against his. "I'm really sorry, love. I hope you can forgive me for my stupid behavior..", he breathes into your ear, loosening your arms around his waist to take your ice-cold hands in his.

He closely examines your face, searching for any hint of what your answer could be like. No longer able to resist his pleading stare and shimmering gray eyes, you slowly nod to assure him that you will forgive him. Of course you will; you love him way too much to let something this silly destroy your relationship. More than happy with your answer, he cups your cheeks between his hands, his silver ring coldy pressing against your skin, and gives you a loving kiss.

"I will make up for it, I promise", he speaks against your lips after you broke the kiss, his thumb caressing your lower lip softly. "As long as you stop those stupid pranks, idiot", you roll your eyes, still feeling a tiny bit upset about the incident. A little chuckle escapes his lips and he pulls you close against him again. "Let's warm you up first, hm?", Draco whispers and before you know it he has apparated both of you back into the common room. Because everyone left to go to the lake you're now completely alone in the big room.

Without your consent, Draco pulls you onto one of the couches near the fireplace so you can warm up. With the help of a spell, he increases the flame a little more. Out of nowhere he throws you a fluffy, thick blanket and wraps you in it, your body now slowly but surely heating up.

While you're still busy making yourself comfortable, Draco extinguishes all the lights in the room except for a few candles, which dip the quiet room into a soothing light, creating a relaxing atmosphere for you two.

"Are you feeling warmer already? Do you need something else? What about a hot chocolate?", he questions you, still feeling extremly horrible for what he made you go through. "A hot chocolate sounds very nice, actually", you accept his offer, deciding to take advantage of the situation, innocently smiling at him. It does not even take him one single second and he suddenly vanishes into thin air. Shaking your head but smiling to yourself you watch the flame in the fireplace while you wait for him to return.

To your amazement, it takes him a lot longer than you expected and that just for a simple hot chocolate. After about a quarter of an hour he pops up again in front of you all of a sudden, two steaming cups in his hands. He serves you your hot drink with a cheeky smile on his face. "As requested: one perfectly hot chocolate, but not nearly as hot as you", he winks at you before making himself comfortable next to you.

"What took you so long?", you ask and take a sip, skillfully ignoring his statement. "Had to.. run a few more errands, you know. I'm a very busy man", he smirks at you, holding the, in his hands much smaller looking, cup. You look at him in disbelief and then discover a few white spots on his uniform that make you raise your eyebrows in confusion. "It's snowing outside?", you question and point to the snowflakes on his cloak that are slowly melting in the warm room. "Care to explain why you were outside?"

"Uh, well.. I just wanted to please my lovely girlfriend", he explains and takes something out of his pockets. You immediately know what it is and sit up excitedly, but before you can grab it, you pull your hand back. "That's not another one of your pranks, is it?", you pout and look in his eyes for an answer, any sign that this really is just normal candy from Honeydukes and not some experiments he bought from Fred and George.

"Come on, Y/N! They are not poisoned. Eat now or I froze myself to death out there for nothing", Draco assures you and you decide to trust him, carefully opening the candy, revealing the actually normal, delicious sweets that you love so much. Happily eating them you don't even notice at first how Draco keeps staring at you, one of his fingers nervously tapping the rim of his cup.

"Y/N?", Draco finally clears his throat, sitting up straight while you look at him with big expectant eyes. The way he pronounces your name, how the letters roll of his tongue create goosebumps all over your skin, causing you to cuddle up more into the cozy blanket, waiting for him to continue. His gaze wanders back and forth between you and his warm drink, of which he has not drunk very much yet.

He opens his mouth to say something again but notices the goosebumps on your arm, the alarm bells in his head loudly going off immediately. "Are you still cold? Wait a second!", Draco tells you, without waiting for an answer, and jumps up, running to his prefect room and coming back a few seconds later to give you one of his green Slytherin sweaters. "Here. Put it on, it will warm you up", he commands and examines you carefully as you pull it over your head, the pleasant scent of his perfume clouding your senses instantly.

Your cheeks turn a little bit red, on the one hand because of the extreme warmth that now surrounds you and on the other hand because Draco gives you such a sweet and tender look, as if you are the most beautiful and precious being in this world; which, in fact, you definetely are to him. He moves closer to you and puts his arm around your shoulders so that you can lean against his chest and snuggle up to him. Draco gently runs his fingers over your hair, over your cheeks and to your chin, which he slightly lifts up, making you look at him.

Neither of you say anything for a while, you just look each other deep in the eyes. Draco brushes one strand of hair behind your ear that fell into your face and slowly leans in. You close your eyes, waiting for him to connect your lips, but he teasingly stops shortly before, his breath fanning against your skin. "I have something for you.. as an apology", he gently whispers and you open your eyes in surprise. "You don't have to give me anything, Draco. I've already forgiven you, you know that", you smile at him, cupping one of his cheeks which makes him smile.

He takes your hand in his and squeezes it lightly, kisses your knuckles and then shakes his head with a sigh. "I know. Still, I feel bad and want to give you something. Something very meaningful and significant", he declares, reaching into his pocket once again. Eventually, his secrecy makes you kind of curious anyway and you look at his hand eagerly, waiting to see what the gift will be.

Draco pulls out a small black box covered in velvet. Your curious gaze focuses on the box, which contents are still unknown to you until he finally opens it and reveals a beautiful, gold shimmering and, above all, quite expensive looking necklace. Small moons and stars hang on it, but the real focus of the indescribably lovely piece of jewelry is in the middle. The bigger splendid pendant attached to it is none other than his name, Draco, written in an artistic curved font. Overwhelmed, your mouth drops open.

"Actually, I wanted to give it to you for our anniversary this year, as a thanks for sticking around with me for so long, no matter how stupid and silly and annoying I was. Somehow it just felt like the right moment to give it to you now", Draco explains in a calm voice, no sight of the silly boy from a few hours ago, and takes the necklace out of its box, gesturing that you should turn around so he can carefully place it around your neck. He leaves a few butterfly kisses along your neck before you turn around to him again, immediately touching the pendant with your fingertips, slightly pressing it against your soft skin.

"I thought I would give you my first name as long as I can't give you my last", Draco smiles timidly, a tear escaping from the corner of your eye as you pull him into a tight embrace. "D-Draco.. I don't know what to say.. I love you so much", you sob into his neck, placing a kiss right there. His arms wrap around you and he breathes out contentedly and somewhat relieved. "I was afraid that you would reject me..", he whispers nearly inaudible, more to himself than to you.

"I would never even think about rejecting you! But do you really promise that you will make it come true, Draco? That you will give me the honor to receive your last name?", you ask seriously, retreating a bit so you are able to look at his handsome face. A smile creeps its way onto his lips at your so serious but also hopeful facial expression. "I don't want anything more in my life than that, darling", Draco clarifies honestly and then takes the pendant with his name on it between his thumb and index finger. "This is a promise", he repeats softly and gives you a quick but loving kiss.

Despite the short kiss, you feel a pleasant warmth inside of you and the butterflies flutter around in your stomach. You put your hands around his neck and can't help but grin brightly, trying to hide it by biting down on your lower lip. Immediately, Draco's thumb comes up to your lip and stops you from doing so, looking back and forth between your shiny eyes and plump lips.

The next kiss you share is so passionate and with so much love that you forget everything around you in a matter of seconds, fading out your surroundings. Now, there is only you and Draco. And a promise that you hold close to your heart.

[itsuki-minamy]

BEFORE ZERO:  CHAPTER 5 “BATTLE START”

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

Before Zero (Chapter List) 

The moment Minato Hayatoshi entered the room following Habari Jin, the smell of blood and burned flesh snorted.

The room was surrounded by dim darkness. Not only were the lights turned off, but the windows were also blocked that should let in sunlight.

But it is not completely dark. The red, blue and radiant light of different abilities hit each other while flashing violently. The battle is on.

Based on information confirmed in advance, this room must be a shared room of less than 20 tatami mats. Not enough room for a full-scale battle. However, Minato's eyes, which began to get used to the darkness, clearly recognized a space that was larger than that.

A large space has been created by removing the walls of several rooms, focusing on the common room of the detention center. Is it a space for interception created in anticipation of an attack from the outside, or is "Purgatory" living in the facility piercing the wall in a playful way? He doesn't know, but this hasty "corridor" had turned into the biggest battlefield of the day anyway.

When the two of them started moving towards the shadows, looking at their surroundings ...

"Habari! And Minato!"

There was a call from the corner of the room.

"Zenjo, what is the situation?"

When Habari calls again...

"I'm addicted to this! I was waiting in this room!"

Zenjo said again as he dealt with three black clothes. The face that removes their fangs seems to laugh.

"And there is a nasty guy."

At the same time as that word, a thin whip-shaped mass of flames burst out of the darkness and attacked Habari like a poisonous snake.

When Habari instantly drew his sword and turned his "head", the flaming whip shrunk and recoiled, sucking on the hand of a man a dozen meters away and disappearing.

"Are you Soma?"

Answering Habari's question...

"Yes, it's me."

The man replied in a fuzzy tone.

Thin, thread-like eyes on the back of light-colored sunglasses. A smile that seems to stick to his mouth. It has a mask-like face that cannot be read.

The tall, slim physique and moderate demeanor, in the "Purgatory" martial arts group, their hair color is slightly different.

His "uniform", even a black suit that spreads a feeling of intimidation, only for this man, looks like a clean dress.

"Purgatory", Executive Soma Hitoshi.

He is also called the advisor and number 2 of the "Red King".

"Welcome, Habari-san. And I'm sorry. It is the appearance of the "Blue King", but my general is sleeping in the back... God only knows when he will wake up."

Soma speaks with a unique intonation like Kansai Ben's, which is exaggerated in a cartoon.

"Even if I don't get this far, I'll take care of you. I don't think it's possible, but I'll try."

"No, Soma. There is no shortage for the other party."

With a beaming smile, Habari held up the saber. The vanguard aims at the heart of Soma.

"Far from being unreasonable, you are an uncomfortable opponent. You can be said to be the worst except for Kagutsu. If you don't die soon, they will kill you."

"Ah, I must be careful. Really. A face-to-face showdown with a 'King'..."

Soma pulled out a cigarette case from his chest.

"Before that, let's take a break, huh."

When the breathless Habari smiled a bitter smile, Soma also bowed with a masked smile, then took a cigarette and raised his left hand to his face.

The little finger on Soma's left hand was missing at the second joint. The cross section of the cut finger glows red with the extraordinary capacity of the flame. That was Soma's "Holy Mark".

Using the chipped finger in place of a lighter and moving the fire toward the tip of the cigarette, Soma began to smoke deeply.

Meanwhile, the sound of the sword battle between "Scepter 4" and "Purgatory" echoes through the room. Also, what hides it is the moan of the wounded black clothes.

However, Soma pays no attention to them at all. Habari also just looks at Soma with interest.

Finally, Soma turned his face towards the ceiling and exhaled for a long time.

"Fuu..."

Soma moved his left hand forward at the perfect moment to cut off the conversation. It is like throwing luggage in his hand, but he has nothing in his palm. Instead, a high-pressure "flame" erupted from the severed surface of the little finger and was shot into the space in front of it.

Soma's technique is called "whip". The flame that emerges from the missing finger cross section literally flutters like a whip. Autonomy and trajectory.

Like a laser, like a poisonous snake, the flaming whip piercing the darkness was not targeting Habari, but Minato at his side. The moment the tip of the fire whip seemed to crush Minato's eyebrows, Habari's saber flashed and the blade with a blue light flickered from the side.

The flaming whip that floated in the air for a moment, when swiftly swaying like a snake, attacks Habari this time in an arc-shaped orbit.

As he touched the head of the whip again, Habari stomped, crossing the "hole" in an instant with his extraordinary leg strength, and advanced until he reached Soma.

Whether or not the difference in range between the whip and the saber changes to the saber advantage when sneaking into the chest, the fire whip, which moves more freely and precisely than a live arm, is fully functional even in attack and defense at close range.

Habari and Soma began to fight a fierce battle.

In contrast to Habari's sword skill, which unifies all of his sword, body, and abilities, Soma keeps his left hand down and does not hold it.

The whip that extends from the little finger blinks rapidly like a creature of its own will and accurately repels the blue blade that thrusts itself over and over again. Soma himself protects his body with the whip, keeps the cigarette in his mouth and adjusts his standing position calmly leading the stars in a dance.

"After all…"

Habari said without any sign of discomfort.

"It is not easy to kill if the messenger is on the defensive."

"No... this is barely."

Soma responds with a suffocating tone and finally spits out a cloud of smoke.

"Minato!"

Without letting go of his swordsman's hand or looking back, Habari said...

"Please rebuild the place. Ask the others."

"Yes."

Within 30 seconds after that, she takes control of the battlefield and makes a breakthrough.

Minato quickly looked around. Eyes accustomed to the dark pick up the situation in the room and the disposition of his companions and the strength of the enemy, and reconstruct the history of the battle in his brain.

That way, Minato must understand, how "Scepter 4" and "Purgatory" have been fighting in this room for the past few minutes.

And how Akio died.

++++++++++

The "Saw Traction Unit", which deviates from the original "Scepter 4" powerful control and cooperates at high speed by reflexes and instinct, has the power to easily cut through "Purgatory" like a flock of beasts. Neither a group of daring black suits nor executives with destructive abilities could contain a swarm of rapidly rotating blades.

However, the situation changes when a strange brain named Soma appears in the herd.

Soma was an exceptional technician among the powerful and crudely talented of "Purgatory." He was a genius who reached the realm of art, a genius comparable to Zenjo and the "Saw Traction Unit", and an advanced precision machine.

"Red King", from the existence of Kagutsu, flowing through the relationships formed by the facility, raging in the body, a tremendous amount of heat gives the subordinate clansman the power of destruction, but in the end, the energy it will burn its own body.

Soma is in full control of his own free will.

A strong "individual conscience" that does not renounce its own reason even with the "King of violence" on top, that is the basis of Soma's technique and also the reason for his peculiar position.

His position is the "immovable number 2" position in "Purgatory."

There is no organized chain of command in the prison. Like a flock of beasts, there is only one hierarchy of forces, which is very fluid and fluctuates with replacement of personnel.

It is not limited to this, the situation always boiled in a violent whirlpool around the "Red King". Nothing can maintain a firm presence there.

However, in the situation where even life is lost in an instant, Soma has been Kagutsu's assistant for about two years.

As a ghost beast that lives in lava, he himself is a superhuman by Kagutsu's side, and is an abnormal existence.

However, personal characteristics and abilities are only part of Soma's danger.

Soma was the best in individual combat technology and at the same time, he had more skill as a group commander. The whip of fire that pierces the heart, leaving the enemy's neck, was also the whip of a beast master who commanded a group of allies.

When Soma appears on the battlefield, the black clothes fighting for a strong self-begin to behave as if they are living creatures with only one will. Soma himself does not give clear instructions or strike the underside of the black robes, but Soma's "whip", which has both precise movement and long range, intervenes at key points in the battle unfolding around it. By doing so, he can control the transition from the war situation.

It was a unique ability in all clans under the Seven Kings. To put it bluntly, it was close to the combat assistance provided by Hayato Minatoshi's slow knife, but it was even more sophisticated and strategic. The flaming whip that runs between the beasts was an extension of Soma's brain, a nerve fiber that controls the body of a beast.

In fact, even in this "hall", the black robes of "Purgatory" acted under Soma's intent without being aware of themselves, releasing the power of fire and dispersion. Soma's "one move on the board", and because of that they burned their lives and collapsed, they were the game pieces that Soma enjoyed, the exploding stones and the abandoned stones.

The black clothes self-destructing special attack folds up, and Zenjo and the "Saw Traction Unit" split up and isolate themselves.

A group of swordsmen who surpassed the instinct of the beast were on the verge of being crushed when entangled in a mysterious and unusual intelligence.

++++++++++

But now…

Habari represses Soma's actions. The tentacles are blocked and the giant beast once again divided into an uncontrolled swarm of beasts.

"Scepter 4, get together!"

Minato threw a knife to each corner of the room in rapid succession, giving a sharp command.

The black clothes of "Purgatory" are like amateurs in the sense of a group battle. Without Soma's guidance, they couldn't cooperate properly. The individually encircled and divided chainsaws were able to quickly defeat several black clothes and escape by simply hammering in a few knives and creating an opportunity.

Zenjo, Azuma, Bado, Chidjiiwa, Daiba. When the five men gathered together, Minato called to Habari's back.

"Commander!"

"Yes."

While shooting a strong blow in moderation, Habari jumps away from Soma, after a few steps back, he is left with Minato and Zenjo.

"Habari!"

"Commander, are you safe?"

Habari gives brief instructions to the men who speak to him.

"Rebuild the 'Saw Traction Unit'. Not everyone can go."

"But Akio is not here!"

Zenjo said that. It was also a word that he said for the other members.

Zenjo and the others understand. The "Saw Traction Unit" is not just a team of powerful swordsmen. It is a fierce precision machine in which individual qualities and unconsciousness are intertwined at the instinct level, it cannot move properly without Akio, one of the gears.

But…

"I will take the place."

When Habari said that, everyone was shocked by the void for a moment and understood immediately.

Certainly, Habari will have sword skill and divine judgment, and Habari Jin will more than make up for the hole Akio Minato has left.

"But, Commander..."

Minato won.

The "Saw Traction Unit" is, so to speak, the "king's alternate force" in clan fighting, and it is the end of the story that the "Blue King" himself joins it. In the unlikely event that they are killed outright with the "Red King", it can unleash an unprecedented disaster, the "outbreak of royalty."

"Yes, Minato."

Habari responded with Minato's will.

"Today we cannot fight Kagutsu. This battle is our defeat. So…"

Habari turned the tip of the saber toward Soma.

"Today's ultimate goal is to seize the head of 'Purgatory' executive, Hitoshi Soma, and retire."

"Oh."

Zenjo, Azuma, Bado, Chidjiiwa, and Daiba resumed in anger and fighting spirit.

It was a reasonable place to end the battle that Akio lost.

"The same order."

"I will need your eyes again."

Minato leaning forward was controlled by Habari's words and Zenjo's hand.

"Go ahead, Minato. Now, I'll get souvenirs in the fall."

Zenjo was sharpening his fangs to laugh. There was only anger in his eyes.

The words ran out and the remaining killing intent focused on Soma with a sharp eye.

"Really."

Soma coughed with a smile on the edge of his mouth.

A chunk of ash fell from the tip of the cigarette.

"Everyone, draw your swords!"

They have already drawn their swords. Members of the "Saw Traction Unit" ceremonially repositioned the swords they had been holding.

Zenjo has a saber, Azuma has a twin sword, Bado has a spear, and Chidjiiwa and Daiba have daggers.

"With a sword, according to heaven, our justice is incomparable. "Saw Traction Unit", mission execution!"

With the command, his specialties were tinged with an extraordinary light. As he spilled the blood that wet the blade, it was blue, strong and glowing brightly, illuminating every corner of the "hole".

The six-body "Saw Traction Unit" has been revived. He was a divinely combative figure who turned anger and murder into light.

Soma got ready for the first time. In the next moment, a series of super speed attacks can turn to dust.

Distrustful of the reassembled "Scepter 4", the black robes that had been rolling in the distance began to move in anticipation of the resumption of the battle.

The tension was building in the room again.

++++++++++

There is still something.

Minato's consciousness couldn't fully digest the sensation of strange matter in the corner of his thoughts.

First of all, the "Saw Traction Unit" was a perfect wall. It was a unit organized to be a perfect wall. No matter how strange Soma was, there should have been no possibility of attaching him to the ring of blades spinning at high speed.

What killed Akio, an unknown factor that broke the "ring" circulating in the perfect wall should still be in this room.

Minato looked around the "hallway" again. Before, he was paying attention to the position and movement of humans, but now that he's in a winning state, I've also noticed things around him.

Remnants of battle and destruction on the floor and ceiling. A blackout curtain that closes the window. Concrete fragments still remain on the edges of the perforated loose walls.

And he can see that furniture like sofas, tables, and shelves were the living space of "Purgatory."

Part of the view is hidden behind the pillars. Minato moved carefully and changed his mind.

Akio had fallen there.

"……"

Minato snuck under Akio, hiding in the shadows.

He hugged her body from behind, but she wasn't breathing and he wasn't ready to move. From the amount of bleeding around her and the huge wounds that pierced her while burning her heart, he was sure that she had died instantly.

A long saber rolls beside him. Akio's favorite sword, "Shiden".

It is not an offensive or defensive attitude. It is a situation that makes him imagine how she was suddenly beaten and killed with one blow.

There were no scratches on her face, and the wide-eyed expression remained as it was.

A slight expression of surprise.

Even if she was attacked by an enemy, she would have reflexively avoided him and blown him head off with a flash of "Shiden". That was the reason why she was selected as a member of the "Saw Traction Unit", and her qualities.

What surprised Akio? What kind of enemy could she not respond to?

Minato surveyed the surroundings while being aware of Akio's point of view.

Half-eaten pizza on the low table. A gaming machine is hooked up to a big screen television near the wall and a controller is lying around.

Do black clothes play games?

When he thought that...

"Uncle, what are you doing?"

He hears a voice from behind.

Minato looked back. A knife that slides from his sleeve into the palm of his hand pierces the enemy's heart the next moment. That was the moment.

But…

Minato's hand stopped when he saw the black clothes behind him.

It was a fatal delay in reaction.

In front of Minato was a young man, not a boy, but he was under 20 years old.

The sleeves of a black suit that he is not used to wearing are rolled up.

In fact, a poor intelligent student than a member of a violent organization.

It reminded him of his twin sons waiting at home.

The other day when their high school uniforms were tried on, they both appeared to be wearing uniforms.

"Is it too big?" Says Minato.

"They'll be big soon.", Akio replied.

Then, Minato understood.

"Akio, you too... you saw this kid."

"Ha, what is that, idiot?!"

The boy's fist was covered in red flames along with his forearms.

An extraordinarily strong fist pierced Minato's chest. He couldn't allow him to speak.

In a short time before he collapses to the ground, his eyes are quickly defeated and his vision closes to darkness.

A child's voice was heard from above the fallen Minato.

"Hey, this is two stars."

Then another boy, probably the same age, called.

"He was about to die now. Satsuki, it was dangerous too."

"I don't feel like I'm going to lose to him."

"He thought you were a boy and was not careful."

"I am not a child."

++++++++++

"Minato!"

From somewhere far away, Zenjo's voice is heard.

"Wait, Zenjo."

The commander stopped Zenjo.

"Zenjo, now, focus on Soma."

Is this a member of Kagutsu?

"If you defeat Soma, you can do anything else."

The voice is far away. It's like saying something of a swordsman.

This may be a scene he need to stop.

The "Saw Traction Unit" is dangerous equipment that tends to run out of control.

Above all, because the commander is also interesting and inspiring.

The group is also constantly fighting.

"Habari!"

Something suddenly became noisy.

"This sign... he's the one."

Commander.

"Wow, it's finally here."

Soma looks.

A wave of sound. The opening voice of "Purgatory" that shakes the space.

"Come on, ours."

The boy's excited voice.

++++++++++

"Oh, I can't hear it anymore. Something vibrates on the ground... don't distract me."

What the hell was he talking about?

He wondered if that boy was saying, "I'm not a boy."

What happens? If he thinks he have grown up, he is still a child. That age is very difficult.

"Akio, what do you think?"

"Stupid, do you really want to deal with kids?"

"Oh, not at all. Exactly correct."

"You are a kind person. And always make the right decisions."

"There is no mistake in the important things in front of you, the things you must protect and order."

"Today and in the future."

"Where will you go next?"

"As always, I'll jump as I want."

"Of course, I am with you."

END

[hoodwinkd1]

Your Eyes Whispered Ch 4-7

Fic Summary:  After Eris becomes High Lord, there's only one thing on his mind, now that his father is dead and he can finally leave his horrible façade behind. A slow burn romance featuring the misunderstood prince of flame and his mate, a powerful teacher who can't seem to step out of her small town life.

Chapters 1-3 here! Ch 8-10 here.

Some fuffiness, some angst, some drama, and a cliffhanger! 

Chapter 4: the lingering question kept me up

"What was it like?"

The question sat between them, as tangible and heavy as a bottle of wine. A tense silence fell, after three hours of lighthearted conversation.

Rhia blushed, absolutely mortified that the question had slipped between her lips. "I'm so sorry, that was wildly intrusive of me. Pretend I didn't say anything."

They had been trading stories like playing cards when Eris had mentioned Beron, briefly and without emotion. And yet Rhia could hardly stop herself before blurting out that damned question. She silently berated herself. What kind of heartless bitch asks about patricide without prompting?

She watched him grin without humor, his eyes turning blank when they'd been alight before.

"I suppose that's quite a normal thing to wonder about," Eris replied, in a tone that sent a small shiver down Rhia's spine. "How does a person feel after murdering their father, after premeditating the act for decades."

"No, really, I'm horrible for asking," Rhia pleaded. "You shouldn't answer that, especially not for someone you barely know." Anything to get that cold stare off his face. She took a sip of wine.

Eris seemed to catch himself, rubbing a hand over his face and also reaching for his drink. "I wish I could answer. I still don't know what I feel or how I should feel. If there's anyone I would wish to tell, it would be you."

Rhia let out a small sigh in relief that he wasn't about to storm out of her kitchen. "You don't have to feel a certain way. I can't imagine how difficult it must be to balance family and duty to the rest of the Autumn Court." Afraid of pushing too far, she hesitated a moment before adding: "Every citizen I know is grateful for what you did."

He laughed. "I doubt most Fae believe me to be any better than he was. Not after centuries by his side, doing basically nothing."

"Most Fae don't know what to think," she argued. "You were never overtly cruel or kind. Honestly, I'd thought you quite shy before...this."

"I've been cruel countless times, to countless people," Eris snapped. "Maybe not to Autumn Court citizens, but certainly to other High Lords and their close ones."

Rhia sat straighter, determined to get her point across clearly. "None of us have a clue about what happens between the nobility, especially not across Court borders. Forget their opinions and focus on what we think." He opened his mouth to respond, but she wasn't finished. "I've already heard rumors about your changes in the capital and I think they'll go a very long way towards gaining favor."

She wasn't just saying that to make him feel better. Eris had restructured the tax system to account for old-money families hoarding obscene amounts of wealth, funneling most of that money to finishing repairs from the war. He'd also banned the practice of arranging marriages for children, mandating that both Fae consent after they'd passed the age of maturity.

"I shouldn't consider the opinions of other Courts?" he questioned, ignoring her other point. "Even your idol, Feyre Cursebreaker?"

Damn him. She'd made all of one comment about how incredible Feyre Archeron's feat against Amarantha was and Eris had labelled her a fanatic.  

"What does she care about your leadership? Haven't we always allied with the Night Court?" Rhia had had enough of Eris' self-deprecation and obsession with what others thought.

He looked distinctly uncomfortable, moreso than she'd thought the topic warranted. "All of Rhysand's Inner Circle hate me, deservedly so. But you were asking about me murdering my father, apologies for getting off-topic."

Rhia gaped at him. "What could possibly be so uncomfortable to speak of that you'd rather discuss murdering your father?"

Eris looked down at the table. "Something for another time."

The tension was back.

"I keep asking horrible questions," Rhia said softly, attempting to catch his eye again. "You know you never have to answer me, right?"

Eris spun his glass around a few times. "I wish I wasn't afraid to tell you."

"There are things I'm afraid to tell you," Rhia blurted out. Truly, she had almost told him about that dreadful night several times now. Every time she tried to push the words out, her lungs seemed to stop working and her head seemed to start spinning. There was something incredibly terrifying about looking into someone's eyes and giving them the darkest part of herself. Even if it wasn't her fault, Rhia couldn't stop the rush of shame that overtook her whenever she thought about it.

"I meant it when I said I'd take any part of you, in any way." Eris straightened in his chair, meeting her eyes now that he felt the compulsion to comfort.

The Cauldron was either brilliant or damned for putting the two of them together. Two Fae incapable of holding normal conversations without trauma ruining an otherwise lovely evening.

"I've made things terribly awkward," Rhia scrambled for something to fill the silence. Eris smiled at her lame attempt.

"Truthfully, I thought this conversation would be much worse," he appeased. "No one's in tears or injured, so let's count 'awkward' as a win. Tell me more about your students."

And so the conversation and evening continued to be lovely.

They met four more times over the next four weeks. Each time, Eris got a bit closer to naming his emotions about becoming High Lord and Rhia got a bit closer to attempting physical contact. Not that the other ever picked up on it.

A particularly hostile thunderstorm and cold autumn wind hit the town that night. Rhia couldn't wait for Eris to arrive, mostly because his ability to heat a room far surpassed hers. She cleaned the studio after her last class, worrying about which families had firewood and whether anyone face the storm unprepared. The door slammed, jerking her back to her body.

"Sorry to startle you," Eris apologized, snapping his fingers to dry out his clothing. He continued to enter through the door after the first night, refusing to break her wards even if he was fully capable of putting them back in place. He frowned, noting the chill in the room, and sent a warm breeze through the house.

Rhia smiled. She loved watching the flames in the fireplace jump in his presence, like a puppy excited to see its owner.

"How are you?" A loaded question, if he chose to answer truthfully.

"Much better now," Eris replied cheekily, winking at the flush that spread across her face. He never missed a chance to flirt with her and she never missed a  chance to blush like a teenager. "I actually slept well last night, but my morning was immediately ruined by one of my brothers' return home."

Rhia didn't know much about the princes, but she doubted they had good intentions. "Which one? Not that I know any of them personally."

"Auster." Eris shrugged off his coat and started heating up the tea kettle. "He is...not the worst brother I have left."

"What a charming description." Rhia finished locking up the supply closet and started to join him in the kitchen, before a frantic knock at the door stopped her in her path. Eris whipped his head around and both of them sent a tendril of power to sense who it was.

"Oh fuck," Rhia swore, turning around to walk towards the door. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck."

"Who is it?" Eris asked, his tone a bit panicked at her reaction.

Rhia shushed him. "Just--I don't know, just sit down and don't say anything." He did as she commanded, but continued sending her concerned looks.

The knocking kept up until Rhia swung open the door.

"Were you going to keep me out here all night?" Sofine demanded, shoving her way into the house. "It's pouring, in case you hadn't noticed."

Rhia tried to grab her best friend's arm before she made it too far into the room. "Sofi, hold on one second--"

But it was a second too late. Sofine had inhaled, recognizing the scent of another person, a male, in the house and froze.

"Who's here?" she asked, in a tone far too tense to be casual. Rhia grimaced. This was certainly not how she planned to make introductions.

"I, uh, you see, well a few weeks ago," she stammered, her brain refusing to produce an actual sentence. Eris chose that moment to speak up.

"Hello! You must be Sofine, I've heard so much about you." He walked towards the two females, his hand outstretched. "I'm Eris."

Rhia had never seen Sofine stop talking, but in this moment she was utterly speechless. She shook his hand, without saying a word, before spinning to face Rhia again.

"You have the High Lord in your kitchen."

"Oh, that reminds me I put the kettle on. Would you like some tea?" Eris asked.

Sofine shot Rhia one last glare, silently demanding a full explanation as soon as they were alone, before joining him in the kitchen. Oh shit. In all her worries and hopes about her burgeoning relationship with Eris, she hadn't even considered how he would fit in her life, or how she would fit in his. If that were even possible.

Chapter 5: these are the words I held back

TW: mentions of past sexual assault, nothing graphic. I put "XXX" at the start and end of it, please please skip it if that could possibly harm you. I will never, ever write anything graphic or specific about sexual assault, pinky promise.

Beron’s shot of flames slammed the side of his face before Eris could duck out of the way. Hissing in pain, Eris tried to ignore the feeling that half his face was now on fire. His father kept coming with the attacks, pushing him back until he could feel the stone of the bedroom’s wall on his back.

“I’m going to kill her next,” Beron taunted, slowing his attacks now that he saw his son fully cornered. “She’s given me nothing but useless heirs, disgusting upstarts who think they can overpower me.”

Eris tried to look around the room, but there were no other options. No final play, no additional power to grasp from. Why had he thought he could overpower his father?

He grasped at his wrist to find it empty. Where was the damn bracelet?

Eris stood alone and alone he would fail.

Beron continued to taunt him, sending flames to match each word. “I could always take another wife. Someone more beautiful. I’m utterly bored with your mother’s face.” The tyrant stepped even closer so Eris could see the utter hatred in his eyes. “Maybe even that pretty little mate of yours. What was her name again? Oh right.” Beron cackled as he prepared his final blow to murder his son. “Rhia.”

Eris woke up gasping for air, his father snarl still ringing in his ear. He ran a hand over his face. He’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead. The refrain calmed his breathing and slowed his heart rate, like it did every morning after nightmares haunted him every night. Neither tonics nor working himself to the bone had helped bring Eris a restful night of sleep.

Hearing his mate’s name in his father’s voice had been a particularly effective type of torture. Eris had done everything he could to avoid even thinking about her while his father was still alive, especially after that horrible incident with Lucien’s first love. Jessminda had done nothing except bring one of Beron’s sons happiness, and yet she paid the ultimate price.

He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead.

The rest of the day continued in a similarly joyful manner. One of Eris’ advisors, an ancient male named Julius, had attempted to undermine the latest efforts to modernize the royal court by poisoning the newest Minister of Finance for daring to be a female. Leanna had recovered quickly, given Julius’ ineptitude at everything except  for being a misogynist, but Eris still had to handle his punishment. He then missed lunchtime because one of his spies had to give him an update on Auster’s movements, which still did not reveal the prince’s intentions or goals. Finally, Gerwin absolutely demolished him in the afternoon training session, shoving him into a weapons rack and giving him a lovely bruise on his forehead. The headache that manifested during dinner felt like a fitting way to end the day.

“Are you even listening?” his mother admonished, though her smirk suggested she was anything but annoyed. “I would rather not repeat myself for a third time.”

Eris put down his wine glass, feeling as though alcohol would only make the day worse. “Sorry. Horrid day. What were you saying?”

The Lady of the Autumn Court placed a gentle hand on his arm. “Dare I hope that the cause for your distraction is a happy one?” At his hesitation to respond, she added: “I know the walls have ears and you keep your secrets close. But come to me when you’re ready. I hate seeing you handle so much on your own.”

“I have happy reasons to be distracted, but no, today I’m simply tired,” he replied, turning his palm face up to grab her hand. “I wish I could say more and I hope I’ll be able to soon.”

His mother smiled, appeased for the moment. Eris wanted to tell her more than anything, let her know that he was happy and in love. Shit. He was in love. The thought made him cringe, because surely no undamaged person fell in love so quickly and easily. Surely only someone deprived of affection and wounded as he would consider 5 nights of conversation enough. No, Eris reasoned, he probably wasn’t in love, but the horridness of the day and the bitter taste of his nightmare had twisted his mind into thinking so.

He couldn’t tell his mother because he would not subject her to his heartbreak if Rhia decided she only ever wanted his friendship or no longer wanted him at all. She already had to watch Lucien, the true joy of her life, suffer without a true home and without love from his mate for so many years. Eris would not add to her burden, even as merely her second-favorite child.

“Go to bed early tonight,” she declared, giving him a look that made him feel like a child again. “I’ll oversee Julius’ imprisonment tonight and send word if anything goes astray.”

Eris nodded and kissed her on the head as he stood to head to his bedroom. If nothing else, murdering his father had been worth it just for his mother to live freely. If she was capable of finding her freedom once again.

Luckily, one tiny thing went right for the High Lord of the Autumn Court that awful day. The glowing piece of parchment in his top dresser drawer might as well have been a star coming down from the night sky, shining bright enough to scare away the dark. Rhia had written to him.

I’m glad you didn’t think it was terribly awkward two nights ago. Sofine can be quite abrasive, but I think she may have liked you. She worries about me, you see, even if she can’t argue with the High Lord. I’m very glad you met her though. I have a silly thought for you when you reply.

Eris couldn’t remember a single thing on his to-do list. The only possible thing he had to do was reply and reply quickly.

Let her know she is allowed to argue with me any time. I’ll probably regret saying that. My day was absolutely horrible and your silly thought is the only thing that might bring me joy again. Please share before I perish from curiosity.

She took a few minutes, either caught up in cleaning her house or making him wait on purpose. Masochistically, he hoped it was the latter and she enjoyed playing games with him.

If you mock me for this, I will, well I don’t know what I’ll do but it won’t be pleasant.

After you both left, I thought about how I might never have had the courage to introduce you or include you in my life. But then, I thought about how relieving it was that Sofine knew about you. Because that makes it real. I can’t back out now and I don’t want to.

No one was watching, so Eris could deny that a few tears pricked the corners of his eyes when he read that. Yes, Rhia was often withdrawn and overly cautious with him, but she was still moving forward. The two of them were still progressing into something, something more beautiful than anything Eris had ever experienced before.

That’s not silly. That’s a wonderful thought that I enjoyed immensely. Can I share a silly thought with you now?

Please. If only to make me feel less alone in my mortification.

You’re so easily mortified. Have you considered that I’m much more desperate and embarrassing than you are? Here’s my thought:

He hesitated, wanting to write so many things. He could write three dangerous words, but knew it was much too soon. He could ask her for permission to tell his mother, but knew that might bring more danger and scrutiny than could be prevented. He could even tell her about the worst mistake of his life and pray to the Mother that she wouldn’t see him like Mor did. Instead, he added:

I think once a week is ridiculous. I think about you too often to only hear your voice once a week. How would you feel about twice a week? If we’re feeling reckless, three times?

Infatuated, but not damaging enough to push her away.

I’m amazed this Court continues to run if you truly are thinking of me so often. If it will help the High Lord function, two-three times a week is acceptable to me. (more than acceptable). When should we start this crazy, reckless plan?

Not to upgrade the recklessness to outright foolhardiness, but tomorrow night? Unless your social calendar is full.

You know I have one friend, don’t be rude. I’ll see you tomorrow night. Bring food and wine.

She always did love trying the foregin cuisines he brought from the capital, offerings that weren’t available in more rural areas. Eris enjoyed nothing more than watching her try a new food cautiously before digging into it enthusiastically. Rhia’s face had seemed unreadable when he first met her, but he had begun to understand her expressions the way some scholars learned new languages. Food certainly helped soften their relationship, as indicated by the way her eyes narrowed when she saw something interesting and her lips quirked upward when she discovered a new favorite flavor.

Eris frowned as a realization swept over him. He was thinking about her lips, yes, but not at all in a sexual manner. This fact alone was not troubling; Eris only felt sexual attraction rarely and towards Fae he had some sort of prior connection with. However, Rhia was his mate and he thought he could be in love with her; desire surely should follow. Yet it felt as though some boundary stood between them and intimacy, as though sex was not even on the table at this moment. Too exhausted to unpack that strange feeling, Eris decided not to question the best thing in his life. Sexual desire would come or it wouldn’t.

----

Rhia had another bad night. One step forward, two steps back, her thoughts ran like an angry river towards an endless sea. She could feel the Mother laughing at her predicament.

XXX

As Rhia started trusting and liking Eris more, she thought about them as a couple. Every time she thought about them as a couple, a cold wave of terror rushed over her at the thought of being intimate with him. Eris could overwhelm her without a second thought, his power ten times her own. Even with Rhia’s strongest gusts of wind or quickest winnows, she would not escape him.

He wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t do that. Her constant refrain did nothing to quell the anxiety that followed any time she thought about sex. The logical side of her brain screamed and yelled that he had not even touched her yet, had observed every boundary she set, had made no move to pressure her forward. Unfortunately, logic did not win out against trauma.

Rhia gripped her bathroom sink, staring at herself in the mirror like she always did when her thoughts grew too loud. Looking into her own eyes and seeing that she’d survived that night, survived her fucking rapist, slowed her heart rate back to normal.

Cauldron, this stupid problem only existed because she wanted him. Rhia had wanted him the moment she laid eyes on him. She thought about kissing him every time he stepped through her doorway. But males never stopped at kissing and Eris might walk away if he understood how truly fucked up she was.

You’re not the first female to ever get attacked. Pull yourself together. Rhia screamed at herself until her inner voice was hoarse. Do you know how much worse others have it? Can you even imagine what his own mother went through for centuries?

A voice that sounded eerily like Sofine’s challenged her back. Just because others have it worse does not lessen your burden or your worth.

Rhia breathed in, then out. In, then out. She would hopefully be able to fall asleep soon, this panic attack lasting less time than last week’s.

XXX

Exhaustion finally came, crashing over her as she finally felt her body relax. Rhia gave herself one last, long look in the mirror before coming to a decision.

She would not let herself ruin this relationship before it even had a chance to start. If it took jumping off a cliff and telling Eris about the worst night of her life, that was a small sacrifice to pay for potentially finding happiness. Smiling at that unusually optimistic perspective, Rhia washed her face and grabbed her silk bonnet, hoping that tonight’s dreams would carry her towards that mysterious, happy future.

Chapter 6: shifting eyes and vacany, vanished

TW: mentions of past sexual assault. same thing as last time, absolutely nothing graphic, will put an XXX before and after.

Eris had just grabbed his cloak, preparing to winnow to Malefic, when he heard a sharp knock at his door. He grimaced, imagining some sort of bureaucratic nonsense that could have undoubtedly been saved for tomorrow morning.

Instead he found Gerwin, nervously pacing the hall outside of the High Lord’s bedchambers. The weapons master rarely brought Eris news directly, and wouldn’t disturb him at night unless it was absolutely urgent.

“Come in.” Eris stepped back into the sitting area, tossing his cloak on the back of the nearest chair. “How long do you think this will take?” He’d rather send a quick note to Rhia then leave her waiting for hours.

Gerwin remained standing. “Not long, but I suspect you’ll want to take action after you hear this. One of your spies was found dead last night. We suspect Auster figured her out.”

“Who?” Eris mentally ran through the five Fae he had employed to look into his brother, shocked and hurt at the prospect of losing any of them.

“Mellie,” Gerwin responded, naming the air wraith who could walk as silently as the wind. Eris could only imagine how his brother had caught her and what detestable things he had done before killing her. “Jyn found her body an hour ago and we’ve covered the area up so none of the other staff will find out. How would you like to proceed?”

I’ll be a bit late tonight. Would you rather reschedule?

No, I want to talk to you and I’m afraid I’ll lose my nerve. Come when you can.

That message from Rhia certainly didn’t calm Eris’ anxiety.

The two males debated and strategized over the next hour, going back and forth on how to manage the prince. Since he surely left no evidence behind, Eris couldn’t arrest or prosecute his brother without possibly inflaming any support Auster had. They didn’t want to send any more of the spy cohort after him, since he’d proved tragically capable at sniffing them out. Unfortunately, the best move at the moment was to wait for Auster to make another move or present his purpose. Eris strengthened the wards around the palace, including extra alarms for anyone entering or leaving Auster’s chambers. It was an infuriatingly small response to Mellie’s death.

Eris had one person he considered asking for help, but she wasn’t in the Autumn Court and he didn’t like the idea of his familial problems becoming gossip across Prythian. Another thing I should probably discuss with Rhia , he mused, as he finally gathered his cloak and set off for her house.

Eris winnowed and raised his fist to knock, but Rhia flung the door open before he had a chance.

“Hi.” She sounded almost out of breath, but looked stunning as always. Her dark curls were pulled back into a low ponytail, with several strands escaping in the front. Eris could have looked at her face forever, her smile illuminated by the lantern above her door.

He stepped inside after her. “I’m sorry for the delay. Sometimes I actually have to do work as High Lord, contrary to popular opinion.” The joke fell flat, his anger at Mellie’s death darkening his tone.

Rhia placed the tea kettle and two mugs on the table, gesturing for him to sit. “Would you like to talk about it?”

Eris grabbed one and poured some of the tea, smelling cinnamon and honey. “I believe you had something you wanted to talk about first. I’ll tell you after; I don’t want to ruin the evening too quickly with my melancholy”

Rhia laughed. Eris frowned, his remark hadn’t been humorous.

---

Rhia laughed. She couldn’t help it. Eris had said didn’t want to ruin the evening, as if he imagined she had something funny, endearing, or whimsical to share. He shot her a confused frown, which only made her laugh harder.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she giggled, pouring herself a cup of tea and attempting to find her composure. “This isn’t funny at all.”

“I would never deny you an opportunity to laugh,” he replied, smiling a bit at her oddity. “But would you mind letting me in on the joke?”

She took a deep breath and a sip of tea, forcing herself to calm down. She often laughed when nervous and she hadn’t realized how nervous she truly was until this moment.

“I’m sorry,” Rhia said one more time. “It’s just, you said you didn’t want to ruin the evening with your news, but I’m afraid my topic of conversation is quite unfortunate. Also, I laugh when I’m nervous,” she finished lamely, looking down at her mug instead of his face.

“There’s nothing you could tell me that I wouldn’t want to hear,” Eris encouraged.

She only wished encouragement was enough.

Rhia took another breath. “I don’t quite know where to begin. I guess, well, I’m sure you had some sort of expectations for your future wife.”

Eris interrupted. “I told you, I don’t have any expectations for you. I just--”

She placed one of her hands on his instinctively. “Please, don’t interrupt me. I know you have no expectations for me and I appreciate that so, so much.” She tried to continue, but her tongue seemed to stick to the roof of her mouth. He had gone completely still.

This was the first time they had touched. Their eyes locked.

Rhia couldn’t help herself. She let out another giggle. Eris grinned at the sound of her laughter and at the absurdity of the situation.

“We’re quite useless, aren’t we?” She looked down at her hand on his again. “Two Fae over a century old who can barely hold hands.”

Eris flipped his hand so his palm touched hers. “I’ve told you time and time again the effect you have on me.” His fingers ever so slowly interlocked with hers. “We’re either extremely touch-starved or incredibly pathetic.”

Somehow, the small action of holding hands spurred Rhia to continue. She felt grounded and calm, trusted and trusting.

“I knew you were pathetic, but I had no idea I was also so wretched,” Rhia replied. “This sort of adds to my point.”

She allowed herself one more breath before continuing.

“I’m aware you have no expectations for me, but we both know what a mating bond or a marriage usually entails. I want to tell you this because it affects both of us, our relationship. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to have an intimate relationship with you.”

Eris, to his credit, stayed silent. Rhia didn’t sense any shock or strong emotions coming off of him, so she took that as a sign to keep going.

XXX

“Halfway through Amarantha’s rule, while myself and a few others were warding Malefic off from the outside world, a group of males somehow broke in. Everyone else was left unharmed, except for me. My power was depleted from maintaining the constant security, and one of the males had enough magic to keep me still.”

Her story was definitely not clear or easy to follow. Rhia couldn’t find the energy to make it make sense.

“And, well, that’s that. I’m...well I’m improved. I thought I was back to normal. I usually don’t have a problem with intimacy and I’ve had plenty of sex since then.” She glanced up. “Sorry, is that too much information?”

Eris cleared his throat. “Rhia, if you think that your sex life is at all one of my concerns with this conversation…”

“Right, the trauma is probably more important.” She realized she was still gripping his hand and loosened her fingers a bit. His fingers opened, as if to give her the space to back away. She didn’t take it.

“If I have my full strength and I know the male isn’t powerful, it’s really not a problem.” She looked up at him. “So it’s really fucked up that the only person I can think about now is the most powerful male in the damn Court.”

XXX

His face was still frustratingly unreadable.

A wave of anxiety hit Rhia. “You can talk now.”

“I love you.” Eris swore under his breath. “Fuck, that’s really not how I wanted it to come out. I know it doesn’t fix anything and I know I can’t fix anything, but I am just so incredibly honored you chose to share this with me. And it doesn’t change a damn thing about wanting to be with you however you want me.”

Rhia breathed in his confession like a drug. Love won’t fix trauma and a romantic partner won’t fix a broken person. But it felt undeniably good to have someone there, someone who wouldn’t look at her differently or see her as less worthy.

“That wasn’t a good response,” Eris continued. “Let me try again. Thank you for sharing your story with me. I am so sorry that happened to you. What can I do to make you more comfortable?”

“Both responses were good, you idiot,” Rhia sniffed once, a little more emotional than she thought she would be. “Stop it or I’m going to cry.”

“If you cry, I might also cry,” Eris warned. “And then I’ll feel guilty for the rest of my life for crying and taking the attention off of you.” He slowly placed his other hand on top of hers and squeezed once. “We definitely do not have to continue this conversation now, but I would appreciate knowing how I can help you feel comfortable and safe.”

She didn’t reply, but gave him a weak smile in response. “Tell me about your thing now. I’m emotionally fried.”

“Are you sure?” When she nodded, Eris added: “I feel a bit silly now, complaining about my brother and his mysterious intentions.”

Rhia let go of his hand briefly, only to stand and walk over to the kitchen. “I’m sure it’s not some trivial matter if you were late tonight.” She grabbed a bottle of dark brown liquor from a cabinet above the sink. “And please, anything to change the subject.” She poured a splash of liquid into each of their teacups, causing Eris to grin.

“Nothing like alcohol to dull the ache of familial drama. I actually found out one of my spies died tonight, surely at Auster’s hand.” His expression quickly morphed from amused to solemn. “Mellie. She was absolutely brilliant and I wasted her life on pure suspicion. I should’ve investigated him myself from the beginning, instead of risking my employees for a personal cause.” Eris finished this thought with a few large sips.

Rhia also took a drink. “Is it truly a personal matter? If your brother is willing to kill someone, it sounds like he’s actually a risk to your entire court. And I’m very sorry to hear about Mellie.”

“Thank you,” he replied automatically. “That’s...I hadn’t thought of it that way, but you’re right, murder wouldn’t be the typical response to finding a spy. I just wish I knew what he hoped to accomplish.”

“Tell me more about him and I’ll take a guess,” Rhia offered. “It’ll be poorly thought out, but another perspective can’t hurt.”

So Eris began to describe his younger brother. Auster had been a quiet child growing up, never as violent or hostile as the other Vanserra siblings. Youngest only to Lucien, Auster hadn’t even bullied his younger brother to the extent the middle brothers did. However, once they had all reached maturity and especially after the Jessminda incident, Eris suspected that Auster’s quiet demeanor had more to do with remaining unnoticed than introverted tendencies. After two of the brothers died and one escaped Beron at Tamlin’s hand, Eris had investigated the remaining three brothers to maintain his role as Heir. Morian and Dedus were idiots, all brute force and horrible manners. While those characteristics endeared them to Beron, the former High Lord kept the twins far away from the capital and wouldn’t risk giving them actual power. Auster, on the other hand, seemed to have half the staff on his payroll according to financial analyses.

Eris had his own casual spies in the palace and began a more formal cohort, led by Gerwin, at this point in time. Auster never seemed to take action, but Eris suspected he had a role in revealing secrets of multiple political rivals. Beron had also put him in charge of punishing any traitors accused of treason, allowing Auster to demonstrate his cruel tendencies.

Months before Eris had taken the throne, Auster had simply disappeared. Beron had never addressed his missing son and they received no news of his death. Eris had spent those months clearing the palace of anyone with ties to his brother and hired new staff completely loyal to him. Only weeks after Beron’s official funeral, Auster had returned and pledged his support to his older brother. He had spent the time since holed up in his room, without any obvious communication to the outside world.

“Sorry, that was a bit of a rant,” Eris finished. Both Fae had finished several cups of tea-and-liquor during his explanation, and Rhia could feel her cheeks heating up under the alcohol’s influence. But she attempted some logic and reasoning for Eris’ sake.

“He sounds horrible and manipulative. Just the kind of male to come back in the picture only when it suits him,” she theorized. “If he hasn’t spoken to anyone outside the palace, maybe he’s trying to get some of the staff under his control again. Or one of them is sneaking messages out for him.”

Eris nodded, eyes drifting off into the distance as he considered her words. “I’ve been lazy. I’ve put up wards, but that would only detect magic or Fae who don’t belong in the palace. He could have easily snuck out paper messages with one loyal servant.”

Rhia wanted to help out, she really did. But his fingers had been unconsciously playing with her, lightly skimming her wrist and forearm, as if they had a mind of their own while he spoke. Distracting, and devastatingly tender.

She stood suddenly, concerned about where her thoughts might take her. Eris’ gaze snapped back to her face.

“It’s late,” she offered as a clearly fake excuse for her behavior. “I feel terrible, keeping you up when you’ll have to deal with all this in the morning.” Not to mention, she had a group of children coming in for a class in less than six hours.

Eris stood as well, grabbing his cloak. He seemed so hesitant, so unwilling to leave, staring at her face as if to memorize it. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea for me to come back here for awhile.”

Rhia’s heart dropped to the ground. “What?” He saw the panic, noticed her heart rate elevate and immediately corrected.

“Not because of you! Not at all because of tonight. Tonight was everything to me,” he emphasized, holding out a hand between them. “Because of Auster. If I start seriously investigating him, I worry he’ll try to follow me. Or figure out my weaknesses. Rhia, I only introduced myself to you because I thought you’d be safe after I became High Lord. If my brother were to ever try to harm you, I don’t know what I’d do.”

She breathed a bit easier. “How long?”

“I’ll write to you. The paper is safe, enchanted for only our eyes.” Eris shook his head. “Hopefully a couple weeks? I wish it were simple, but Gerwin and I decided to wait for his next move. So it’s difficult to know.”

The idea of not seeing him for a couple weeks hurt. It hurt so much more than Rhia wanted to admit.

So she decided to be brave. She stepped close enough to him that she could feel his breath on her face. She grabbed each of his hands in her own and pulled them up to rest on his chest. For a moment, she swore their hearts beat in synchronization.

“I don’t think anyone would miss him if you had to kill him,” she said, her voice steadier than her thoughts. “Just handle him quickly.”

Eris laughed lightly. “I am very motivated, trust me.” He kissed her knuckles. “Good night.”

Eris gathered his cloak and winnowed back to his palace. As he drifted into an uneasy sleep, he wondered how it would feel to fall asleep somewhere he felt safe, somewhere full of good memories, with someone who cared about him.

Funnily enough, Rhia fell asleep wondering the same thing.

Chapter 7: until I see you again

After five days of silence, Rhia was about ready to lose her mind. Eris hadn’t written or called her in any way, and there wasn’t even any new gossip about him from the capitol. Her mind wandered off at inopportune moments, imagining him dead by his brother’s hand or finally deeming her unworthy of him and moving on to someone else.

“RHIA!”

She jumped, startled at the high-pitched squeal that cut off her most recent vision of Auster chopping off Eris’ head. One of her students, Raquel, stood outside one of the studio windows, banging on the glass.

“Shit,” Rhia swore under her breath, glancing at the clock above the wall of mirrors. Her next lesson was starting now and she hadn’t set up anything.

She jostled over to the door and opened the door to see Raquel standing with two of their peers. This group was one of her favorites, three young Lesser Fae who manipulated nature and lived right at the edge of the forest. Raquel was the certified leader of the group and took that role seriously: they made sure Leyora and Aliar always arrived on time.

Rhia usually loved all the sass and attitude that came with this trio, but today she was close to strangling the little jerk.

“Come in, come in,” she said instead, herding the children into the room and helping them with their coats. “I must’ve forgotten to unlock the door. How’s everyone doing today?”

“We were having a good day until you left us in the cold for so long,” Raquel grumbled, their cheeks pink from the frosty air. “I screamed your name four times before you noticed me.”

Leyora nodded. “Raquel was very loud. You really should answer your door faster.” She looked extremely serious after the minor inconvenience, in the way only children can.

Rhia finished hanging the coats and walked over to her supply closet. “Well I am very sorry that I ruined your morning. Blow breezes at each other while I set up.”

As they sent blasts of air at each other, the children soon forgot their anger and quickly turned to laughter, describing their breakfasts and every little detail of the walk over. Rhia tried to be engaged and charming, like she usually was, but kept glancing at the empty piece of paper sitting on her counter, yearning for it to glow.

An hour later, and after several very close calls with fire and her curtains, Rhia stood staring at the paper again. She’d tried, she really had, to give Eris time to deal with his brother and let him write her first. The last thing she wanted was to distract him while he was potentially fighting for his throne. Well, he could always ignore her if he didn’t want to respond, so she might as well write something.

Just let me know you’re okay.

---

After five days of hunting, Eris was ready to lose his damn mind. He’d returned home to find the palace in complete chaos, with the staff fleeing and his mother missing. Gerwin gave him the quick update as he sprinted to her chambers, sure his brother was to blame.

“Thirty minutes ago, we found half your mother’s guard dead and her rooms empty. Whoever it was left the damn bodies in the kitchen , like a maniac, to scare everyone away and cause all this.” Gerwin gestured to the general panic and disarray. “We’ve already searched for your brother and he’s long gone. I don’t think he came anywhere near here”

Eris ignored him and burst through the door of the bedroom. Indeed, Auster’s scent was completely absent.

“We found a note and left it untouched for you,” Gerwin explained, pointing at a delicately embossed letter sitting on the coffee table

An oathbreaker is not fit to be High Lord. Relinquish your title before the week is up.

“Shit,” Eris swore. “This is bad.”

Gerwin glanced at the note again. “What does it mean?”

Eris scrambled for a plan, an idea, anything that would fix this mess. “It means the Court of Nightmares knows I broke the alliance.” He grabbed a piece of stationery off a random dresser, scrawling out a quick note. “Auster found himself an army of bastards, willing to help bring me down.”

I need your help. Come to the palace immediately.

With a flick of his fingers, Eris sent the message to the only person who might be able and willing to help him.

“The advisers are waiting,” Gerwin said hesitantly. “I know they won’t have anything useful to say, but I believe it best if you appease them tonight.”

“Fine,” Eris growled, in no mood to handle the overly emotional politicians.

As expected, he could hear the arguments and heated debates from down the hall. Entering the main conference room, Eris shot a wave of power across the room, silencing the chatter.

“My mother is missing. Don’t waste my time.” He glared directly at Moris, one of the ringleaders and most vocal on the council.

To his credit, Moris inclined his head in respect and kept his tone calm. “My Lord, I cannot imagine how stressful tonight is for you. We only wish to help you come up with a strategy.”

“The note is quite concerning,” added another male. “Could you elaborate on the meaning of ‘oathbreaker’?”

Eris let out a breath. “I don’t have time to explain everything to you all. Clearly, my brother had some hand in this, and I believe he had foreign aid.”

“That’s quite a claim,” Moris responded thoughtfully. “Without evidence, however, how can we take action?”

“ You won’t be taking any action.” Eris resisted the urge to snarl. “I don’t remember seeing any of you hunting down fugitives in the past few centuries.” Gerwin snorted behind him. “I’ll track down my brother and bring him back to stand trial.”

The room erupted into discussion. Beron would have never taken on such a task himself, leaving the throne empty and the palace unruled. Eris ignored every one of their complaints,

He couldn’t recruit anyone else from the Autumn Court for this task, or he would risk revealing the secret that threatened his legitimacy as High Lord.

--

“Well that could have gone better,” Gerwin remarked, following Eris away from the conference room. “At least you didn’t set anyone’s hair on fire.”

“I thought about it.” Eris stalked into his bedchambers, waving the door closed behind his weapons master.

Gerwin stiffened. “Eris, someone’s in here--”

Eris cut him off. “Hello, Carina.”

The infamous Heir to the Night Court stepped out from the shadows. Dark haired, dressed in all black, and heartbreakingly beautiful, Rhysand’s daughter winked at him.

“Already trouble in paradise?” she smirked.

Gerwin grabbed Eris’ arm. “This is your idea? Bringing in the Night Court again?”

Eris shook him off. “If Keir is involved in any capacity, then her family will need to know about it.” Gerwin opened his mouth to argue, but Eris continued. “Besides, she’s already helped me more than anyone can know.”

He looked at the female who might be his only other friend. They’d grown close after Eris had called in his deal with the Inner Circle, demanding they support him in overthrowing Beron. Carina had convinced them to take it one step further, providing magical bracelets that let two Fae share power, to ensure that Eris could actually defeat his father. She had lied to her parents and mate when she had actually worn the bracelet herself, letting Eris use her strength to kill Beron.

If anyone found out, the advisers could use the information to call for Eris’ resignation. The Court could likely agree with them.

“Can I see the note?” Carina asked. Eris handed it to her. After inspecting it for a moment, she gave it back. “It stinks of Keir’s right-hand male, Toren. I’ll have Azriel look into him.”

Eris sighed in relief. Finally, a small clue into his mother’s location. “Thank you. I already owe you so much--”

She waved his gratitude off. “It’s what friends are for. I do enjoy extravagantly expensive dresses, if you must know. What else can I do?”

“I can’t ask anything else of you,” Eris insisted. “Just--anything you find from the Hewn City.”

“Of course,” Carina smiled. “We’ll find her, I promise. Absolutely do not give up the throne.”

--

And so Eris had spent the next four days across the Autumn Court, running into dead ends and even a few traps. Gerwin returned to the palace after two days, promising to keep any nobles from attempting a coup.

Carina had sent a message, letting him know that Keir remained in the Night Court and no one had seen any sign of Auster. Azriel had assigned several Fae to watch everyone in the Court of Nightmares, and had begun sifting through all their communications. If they are working together, they’ll have to discuss at some point. Her words did not inspire much confidence.

The High Lord was exhausted. He missed Rhia every second of every day and wished he’d thought to grab their parchment before leaving. The logical side of his brain screamed at him to return home, get some rest, and request help from his spies. The guilt fueling him, however, demanded that he never put someone else in danger again, that he alone murder another family member to keep his Court safe.

Eris shook some leaves from his hair and splashed cold creek water onto his face in a lame attempt to wake himself up. He was outside a small town where Auster’s scent lingered, but found no actual trace of the murderous prick. There were no other trails, no further moves to make.

He closed his eyes for one moment, gathering his composure to winnow back to the palace as a failure. Eris woke up several minutes later to a sword at his throat.

“What in the name of the Mother are you doing?” Lucien demanded. “Falling asleep in the middle of a random forest like a vagabond? Our fucking mother is missing.”

Eris shoved the blade away and got to his feet. “I’m searching for our fuck of a brother, you bastard. And looking for her. Why are you here?” As the question slipped out of his mouth, he suddenly remembered that one of the only Fae Lucien still loved had been stolen in some twisted plot.

The younger Vanserra looked even more exhausted, if that were possible.

“Trying to find you.” Lucien tucked his sword away. “I was hoping you’d have tracked him down by now or have found some new information.”

“Nothing,” Eris groaned, running a hand over his face. “This was all a huge mistake. I shouldn’t have let Auster run me around the Court like a fool.”

Lucien snorted. “Your savior complex is going to kill you one day. I have news from the Night Court, if you’re awake enough to listen.”

Eris hated accepting help, especially from his youngest brother, but took the hand Lucien offered anyway. They took turns winnowing back to the palace, as Lucien gave him a summary of the last few days.

Keir had thrown a massive temper tantrum when members of the Inner Circle appeared in the Hewn City and demanded to search his palace. After failing to link him directly to uprisings in Illyria several months ago, Carina had done everything in her power to find evidence that Keir was working with Auster.

“She’s bitter,” Lucien noted. “They all are. This is the second time this year that Keir has attempted some sort of terrorism or treason.”

Eris ran a hand through his hair. “Well, I’m just grateful for their help, even if it has nothing to do with me. Did Carina find anything?” Only one more jump and Eris would be in his chambers again. He almost cried at the thought of a nap in an actual bed and a chance to contact Rhia after days of silence.

“Yes and no,” Lucien continued. “Azriel tracked down the messenger who connected Auster and Keir in the first place, confirming our worst fears, but no sign of Mother.” The male sighed, preparing to winnow them the final few miles home. “I’m concerned that there’s something else going on, some other plan that we aren’t seeing.”

“I agree,” Eris replied. “Auster’s trail was authentic; I knew for certain he had visited the places I tracked him. But I think he set it up weeks ago, before staying in the palace.”

Lucien didn’t answer immediately. He grabbed Eris’ arm and vanished them, landing directly in the High Lord’s chambers.

“Fuck,” Lucien swore, looking around the room. “I can’t believe you sleep in here. Lovely decorating, though.”

Eris couldn’t agree more. He hated living where Beron had abused and fought him. “I wish I had a choice. If I remained in my old rooms, the advisers would’ve pounced on my weakness.”

Gesturing to one of the large couches, Eris continued. “You’re welcome to stay, rest for a bit, if you don’t want to announce your presence to the entire Court.”

Lucien looked taken aback at the offer. “I--That would probably be smart, yes.”

Eris barely heard his agreement. Mumbling something about a bath, he stumbled into his bedroom, stripping off his disgusting jacket and pants. Cauldron, he was an idiot for letting Auster wear him down so thoroughly.

Eris sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the door of his bathing room, debating whether he shouldn’t skip the bath in favor of falling asleep immediately. Something glowed in the corner of his vision, dragging his gaze to the nightstand.

“Rhia,” he breathed, snatching up the parchment. He read the message, drinking in her words like a life-saving potion.

Just let me know you’re okay.

Magicking a pen, Eris scrawled back as quickly as he could.

I’m so sorry to have worried you. I’d like nothing more than to rush to your side and never leave again. Unfortunately, I do not have any good news. Lucien is with me now, and we’ll resume our search after I’ve rested. I’m back at the palace, so I can promise my safety for the time being.

When she did not respond instantly, Eris put down the pen and took off his undershirt. She would know he was alive and back home, without a reason to worry for at least the next few hours.

With that thought comforting him, he leaned back on the pillows. His eyes fluttered shut a moment before his head hit the soft fabric, meaning Eris did not watch the massive blade appear above him and stab him through the heart.

[axe-trio-commanders]

So some more chapter 3 thoughts

Under the cut, of course, because spoilers (and let’s be real, it’s me, it’s gonna get long)

But Braham! I am concerned about him. He deserves many things. But! I don’t think he’s near out of control yet. Not quite in control of the destroyers, maybe, but I figure we could interpret him as far closer to his usual self than he initially seems.

My main point in this case is his very last line in the most recent episode- just the automatic response of ‘commander’. He clearly recognizes us- it doesn’t take any amount of time, and it’s how... several members of Dragon’s Watch seem to respond to us- heck, Canach does this earlier that episode. So, in the once instance he takes an aside to speak to the commander, it seems to be fully lucid on his part- and yeah, it’s a short thing, but it’s a stressful situation and he’s still working on getting a full control over the destroyers- far as I can tell, this is the first time he’s tried. And of course he’s exhausted by all this, because, part two of the analysis-

As far as anything has told us, Primordus- and even more so the destroyers- are only barely sentient, at best. It’s unknown if this is because Primordus has ‘gone mad’ or if he was always like this, but the only concrete goal they seem to have is destruction- which kinda seems like... y’know, basic animalistic instinct for food. Which, first, means that trying to herd all these destroyers into one goal is probably kinda like herding cats (see; “he’s leading them like a wolf pack”), and second, all that growling is giving orders to them. The destroyers aren’t frost legion- you’re not going to sway them with propaganda and well-planned speeches, they won’t care. You train any animal, you know you give them simple, one-or-two-word commands- like sit, or fetch, or kill ice. I mean- heck, of most note, when he loses control all of the destroyers become your enemies too- and need we be reminded just the sheer number of them? Boy’s got a sylvari-esque connection with thousands of destroyers being denied their dinners.

So- yeah, still worried for the boi (and still glad I’ve given myself the luxury of two commanders so one of them can tail him like a lost puppy/therapist combo) but I don’t think it’s nearly as bad as it might first seem.

Oh- and he probably leaves that fast because letting his guard down while we’re still surrounded by destroyers probably wouldn’t go well for... anyone involved.

[star-and-the-motherverse]

Chapter 1 - Mother’s Wisdom

The Butterfly Who Lost Her Wings

Word Count: 4501 | AO3 Mirror | Next

Summary: It was on that fateful day when Star Butterfly, the princess of Mewni, disappeared. Mewni was left broken, grieving, and lost. Queen Moon, despairing and left at her lowest point, decided that she would not rest until her daughter was freed, no matter what it cost her.

✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:* ♦ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

If only her daughter had listened to her, then maybe, just maybe, this situation would never have befallen them.

Oh, who was Moon kidding? It was unfair to blame Star for all of this. If anything, she was just like her mother, pulling practically the same scheme that Moon had when she was her age. She was proud of Star, in a strange way, for taking the matter into her own hands and attempting to fix the problem as best as she could. But only now was Moon in a position to finally recognize how dangerous the situation was.

“Star!”

Her daughter was on an adjacent balcony, standing beside Ludo. She wasn’t that far away at all, and yet, it felt as if the distance between them was far greater than it had any right to be. At the sight of her daughter, Moon’s fear subsided significantly, but she could not shake the feeling of dread that was heavy in the air. Marco and Yvgeny stood next to the queen, confused by the situation presented before them. They probably felt very much out of their element, being thrown into a situation as dire as this.

Star turned to meet their gazes, offering a sad, little smile. Maybe she already knew how her mother felt about all this. “Hey, Mom. Hi, Marco.”

Moon wanted to ask what was wrong, but it clicked into place when a ghostly unicorn escaped from the wand embedded in Ludo’s hand. Her blood turned to ice. No, she wouldn’t have… The half of the star insignia had darkened to an ominous black, confirming Moon’s fears.

“I, uh…” Star’s eyes darted away, as if she knew the consequences of what she had done just as well as Moon did. “I’m sorry, you guys.” The ghostly figure of the millhorse let out a defeated whinny before disappearing into the sky.

“Is she okay?” Yvgeny asked aloud, not to anyone in particular. “What does that mean? Is, is that...”

Marco attempted to answer him, but his voice quickly trailed off. “It’s…”

Tears immediately began to pool in the corners of Moon’s eyes as panic set in. “The... the Whispering Spell…” She slammed her fists down on the railing in front of her, as if it was going to give her some kind of ability to stop this from happening. But she knew just as well as Star did that what had been set in motion could not be interrupted. “No! Star! You... you get away! You run away from there!”

Star’s voice was quiet, but firm. “It's too late, Mom.”

Marco moved forward to stand beside Moon, his hands gripping onto the stone railing in an effort to ground himself. “She’s… why isn’t she running? Why is she just…”

Something must have clicked in Yvgeny’s mind, because he suddenly blurted out, “What?!” and took several quick steps backwards, away from the impending destruction. “Why she use that spell again?!”

Moon was too overwhelmed with horror to wonder how or why either of them would know what the spell was capable of. She was frozen to the spot, her mind, heart and body all at war with each other. She wanted to rush over there and do something, but what could she even hope to do?

Ludo said something to Star excitedly, but Moon was unable to hear him over the wind. The two of them exchanged some words. Star’s gaze never strayed from the wand, her lips pressing together into a thin, contemplative line.

“No!” Moon screamed as the spell began its work. A fiercely bright pillar of green magic shot out of the wand and into the sky, crackling and snapping viciously. There was a sickening moment of silence as the wand imploded before an explosion shook the castle, taking down the entire tower with it. The three of them could only watch in horror as it fell apart and collapsed into a spray of dust and debris.

“N-no, no no no NO!” Moon’s shoulders began to tremble violently, out of fear for her daughter’s life. “Buff Frog, we have to go now!”

Yvgeny, despite his dread, grunted in acknowledgement and scooped both her and Marco up in his arms, jumping down to the crater below. Moon tore through the rubble recklessly, overturning chunks of rock and sheets of stone. A wave of anger washed over her as she found an unconscious Ludo, however irrational those feelings might have been. Now that she knew Toffee was involved in this mess somehow—she should have known better than to assume that he’d finally left her and her family alone—it was impossible to place blame in this situation.

She never should have left Ludo alone once she found out he had the other half of the wand. If she had acted sooner, there was the chance that she could have prevented all of this. She felt so lost without the High Commission on her side, but she knew there was nothing she could do about it in the given moment. Her daughter was her one and only priority right now.

“Where's Star?” Moon barked out, picking up the small monster by his shoulders and shaking him. His eyes opened, but they were glassy and difficult to read. Was that the faintest tinge of pink light she could see in them? “Where is my daughter?!”

How peculiar it was, that it wasn’t Ludo’s voice she heard when he responded. No, it was far more familiar than that. “Mom! Mom, Mom! I'm in here!”

“Star? Is that you?” She wasn’t exactly sure how Star had ended up inside of Ludo’s consciousness—was the inside of the wand and his mind connected somehow?—but the fact of the matter was that she was okay, and that was all that Moon could hope for.

“Yes, yes, it's me!” The relief was prominent in her daughter’s voice, as if she had shared the same fears as her mother.

“Oh, thank goodness!” Moon hugged the kappa tightly. She understood that her daughter might not even be able to recognize the gesture, but she made the effort nonetheless. Behind her, she heard both Marco and Yvgeny let out sighs of relief. They came up on either side of her and looked over Ludo curiously, equally surprised and puzzled by this new development.

“This is very strange…” Yvgeny commented. As comforting as it was to know that Star was still here, it didn’t make it any less disorienting to hear her voice coming out of Ludo.

Marco leaned forwards to better center himself in Ludo’s field of vision. “C-can you see us?”

“Yeah, Marco, I can! Y-you guys didn’t get hurt, did you? You’re all okay?”

“I assure you, we’re fine,” Moon answered for them. “Are you? Where are you?”

Her daughter’s voice was shaky and uncertain. “Well, I-I'm totally fine, but, uh... I don't exactly know where I am.”

“That's okay, sweetie,” Moon assured, hoping that her words could comfort her in some way. “The important thing is that you're safe. Just stay right there. And no matter what, we will find you!”

“Mom? M—yeah, c—“ Her voice was beginning to break up, to Moon’s dismay. “Can y—re—t-tha—“ Ludo’s eyes closed as her voice faded away.

Just as quickly as the brief period of relief had appeared, it was gone, leaving her unnerved and frightened. _No no no, come back to me! Please! _“Star? Are you still there?" She shook Ludo again, a bit more aggressively than she intended, hoping to somehow reconnect to her daughter.

Ludo’s eyes opened again, but this time, the light behind them was a sickly, ominous green. The voice that came out of him was not her daughter’s. Yet it was somehow just as familiar, eerily so.

“Hello, Moon.”

It didn’t feel like her blood could run any colder than it already had. Her fight or flight reflexes desperately wanted to kick in, but she felt rooted to the spot, face to face with the one she recognized as her worst possible enemy. “Toffee…”

Ludo’s body floated out of her hands and up into the air, where he hovered in place, smiling a wide, toothy grin that didn’t quite seem to match what she knew about Ludo’s personality. The emptiness of his eyes made it all that much more unsettling.

All three of them were on their feet in an instant. Neither Marco nor Yvgeny moved into attack stances right away, but they were clearly put on edge by the confirmation of who this was in front of them. Marco looked completely taken aback, as if he thought this was impossible. His mouth was agape, but not so much as a word escaped him. Yvgeny’s eyes were anxiously darting between Ludo’s hovering body and their surroundings like he was expecting more bad memories of the past to jump out of hiding and ambush them. Despite his attempts to appear threatening, he was very clearly incredibly tense.

Moon shook her head quickly, clearing her thoughts. Why Toffee was here did not matter, not right now. She took a commanding step forwards and clenched her fists at her sides. “Give us back Star.”

“Oh, of course,” Toffee chuckled. “But I'd like something from you first. Something that belongs to me.” He outstretched his hand, still bearing the blackened half of the wand in his palm. The missing finger was easily recognizable.

His finger, she remembered. He had mentioned it before, when the rest of the Magic High Commission had been incapacitated. She had found it amid all the rubbish shoved into Star’s closet and had kept it on her since, fearful that Toffee would find it himself. But now, what was she to do? Her sense of reason told her that giving in to his demands was a very poor choice, but did she really have any other options? Her child was now trapped inside the same plane as that monster, that villain. Star needed to be rescued immediately. There was no doubt that her daughter was a fighter, and she was likely already trying to find her own way of escaping. But if Toffee had been inside the wand, after all this time, and had never found a way to escape—

Moon stopped herself from debating it further, reluctantly reaching to remove the small jar from her belt and hold it out towards him. The finger sat inside.

“Your Majesty,” Toffee said, as he floated down closer to her. His hand outstretched further, silently asking for her to follow through with his demands. “Do we have a deal?”

“Take it.”

She tipped the jar upside down and dumped the finger out of it, placing it in his hand before she could convince herself otherwise. The smirk on Ludo’s face widened as he closed his hand around it. The finger immediately began to reattach itself to the severed stump it was once a part of, until it was whole once more.

The light in Ludo’s eyes flickered out, leaving them pitch black. He looked as if his life force had been taken out of his own body, similar to the fate of the High Commission. He hung limply in the air.

Moon wanted to cry out for her daughter again—perhaps she could finally hear her, now—but Ludo’s right arm sharply extended, prompting her to stay silent. The newly reformed finger had yet to stop expanding, as unnatural gray ooze slowly spread from his hand and up his arm, overtaking Ludo’s entire body in a horrific display. The dark sludge took on the shape of a skeleton as it continued to grow. Skin stretched over its form, followed by a jet black suit. As the figure’s shape began to finalize into lizard-like features, his eyes were the last thing to roll into place, and he lightly floated back down to the ground without saying so much as a word. Toffee’s eyes were widened, his gaze settling on the empty space in front of him.

Before anyone was able to even react, he bent forwards and vomited out some of the sickly dark ooze that had reconstructed his body, as well as Ludo himself, who landed in a mostly unconscious heap on the ground. Toffee blinked a few times, shocked silent, before returning to stand upright and examine his hand. It looked as if his finger had never been absent in the first place. His eyes were stretched wide in disbelief.

“Where is my daughter?” Moon demanded, taking a slight step towards him.

“Yeah, where’s Star?!” Marco chimed in from behind her, finally breaking his silence. He chose to adopt a karate stance, lowering himself to the ground with partially bent knees.

Toffee turned his hand out to face them, where the fragment of the wand still resided. Without warning, he clamped his hand shut, crushing the blackened, brittle stone in his palm. It crumbled to dust and he allowed the broken remains to fall to the ground.

“She’s gone,” he said plainly, before he turned and began to walk away.

Everything around Moon in that very moment felt as if it ceased to exist. He had to be lying. There was no possible way that he was telling the truth—she refused to give it the consideration. Admitting that would mean that her daughter was gone, and she wasn’t going to let that be a possibility. No, not at all. She wasn’t in the wand, no, she was somewhere else, safe and happy, somewhere where nothing bad could happen to her.

Her eyes were tearing up...why were they tearing up? Nothing was wrong. No, she hadn’t just made the biggest mistake of her life. Toffee hadn’t won. He hadn’t succeeded in this revenge scheme of his. He hadn’t taken away her baby girl. She was going to prove it. She had to prove that he had failed, and then maybe, just maybe, she could have the last laugh...

Her feet set in motion before her mind could even register it, carrying her towards the septarian. She stepped faster and faster, until she was running, and a emotionally-driven scream tore out of her as she clenched her fists and lunged at him.

Toffee had whirled around to face her the moment she threw her first punch. He pushed her hand away from him before it could collide with his chest. Again and again, she threw her fists at him, and he continued to block her attacks until he caught each of her fists in his own hands. Moon struggled free of his grip and instead pulled Star’s half of the wand off of her belt, placing it directly over the monster’s chest as she repeated the words of the very spell she had used on him in the first place. Despite it being in her own hands, the wand’s shape never changed.

“I call the darkness onto me from deepest depths of earth and sea! From ancient evils unawoken, break the one who can't be broken! From blackest night I pledge my soul, and crush my heart to burning coal! To summon forth the deadly power; to see my hated foe devoured!” Her words were bathed in desperation, but the spell did nothing at all.

Toffee narrowed his eyes at her impatiently. “Are you finished?”

He flinched slightly as a punch was thrown into his back and turned his head to glare at the one who had inflicted it. Marco stood there with his fists held up, clenched knuckles turning white with anger. Tears were pooling in his eyes. Toffee grumbled something under his breath and turned to grab him by the arm, haphazardly throwing him at a nearby pile of rubble. The boy landed in a painful heap, and Yvgeny immediately rushed over to him.

Moon snapped out of her stupor as Toffee took hold of her shoulders, shoving her into the ground. He dusted his hands off on his suit jacket and spared one last unreadable glance at her before walking away. Ludo stopped him before he could leave, but her mind had tuned him out. Her thoughts spiraled downwards as fast as her tears were falling down her face, and she tried desperately to think of something else that could be done.

She scrambled over to the pile of broken pieces scattered across the ground, scooping up a small handful. Yes, that was it! She could put the wand back together again. Then everything would be alright—it had to be alright.

The ground scuffled in front of her, signaling that someone was approaching. But she hardly even heard it.

“Come on, come on. Why won't you fit? Come on.”

A shadow appeared on the ground over her. “Queen?” She looked up and met Marco’s gaze. His sadness was apparent on his face.

“M-Maybe if I-I put the wand back together, it'll… it'll bring her back.” Her voice was trembling as badly as her frail hands were. “But this piece won't fit.”

Marco leaned down on one knee and silently looked over the wand, before picking out a piece and offering it to her. “Here. Try this one.”

“Th-thank you,” she murmured, carefully taking it from him and glancing over it first, and then the pile of shards just in front of her. “There’s just so many pieces, I-I don’t even know where to start…”

She heard light footsteps cautiously draw near, and she knew there was only person around that was small enough to fit that description. Her gaze snapped up to connect with Ludo’s, startling him with how piercing it was.

“I-I’m sorry!” he stammered out immediately, holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender.

She didn’t care how apologetic he sounded. There was no excusing what his actions had ultimately led to, in her eyes. “This is your fault. It’s all because you were stupid enough to fall for his tricks!" He flinched under her accusation, frightened. She recognized the hypocrisy in her own statement—she had just given Toffee the power to escape the wand, hadn’t she?—but the torrent of emotions running through her mind convinced her that she was justified in blaming him. It felt like the only thing she was still able to do.

“I’m so sorry,” Ludo murmured. “I… I don’t know what else to say. I don’t know anything anymore!” He conveyed his frustration and equally afflicted emotions with a wave of his arms. “I never meant for this to happen! I don’t even know what is my fault, a-and what is his…he’s used me, too, I hope you realize…”

“And that’s supposed to give you a pass?” Moon pushed herself off the ground, standing tall over the comparably tiny monster. “Did you really think that no one was going to get hurt? You took over an entire kingdom by brute force and threatened every person standing in your way!”

Ludo made no attempt to deny any of the accusations being thrown at him. He hung his head shamefully and couldn’t bear to maintain eye contact with the queen. “I wanted to be something more, someone who would be revered by the masses for his awe-inspiring greatness. My wand, it spoke to me, yes! It told me that I would be loved as the new King of Mewni. I thought that I could make things better! But the people of Mewni, they despised me… and even worse, it turns out, I haven’t accomplished anything on my own! I thought Toffee was dead, but he was here all along, manipulating me every step of the way!”

“What’s done is done, Ludo. You cannot deny responsibility for your crimes!”

“I’m not trying to!” He retorted, his temper growing equally short. “I’m trying to apologize!”

Moon, not able to stand looking at him any longer, turned herself away from him. “Just get out! Go away!”

“I know that we fought all the time, but I truly never wanted Star to get hurt! Not like this! I just wanted—“

“Get out of my sight!” She screamed, clutching her hands over her head. “L-let me concentrate, please...”

Ignoring him, she studied the wand pieces through her teary eyes, trying to think of what other options she had. She couldn’t think clearly with that insurgent monster pestering her, but even once he gave up and backed away, there was still no way she was going to be able to put all of the pieces back together. Her mind knew this, but her heartache refused to let up. She fell to her knees in front of the broken relic in an admission of desperation.

“I, I need to start over.” She dumped the fragmented half of the wand back into a pile and flattened out the crumbling pieces so she could more easily see them individually. “I have to...”

“Queen Moon.” Yvgeny’s voice was firm, but cautious. “I do not think that is going to work.”

“It’s going to work,” she insisted. “It will work, you’ll see. I’ll prove you all wrong.”

“She might be right,” Marco offered, only to immediately be shut down by Yvgeny.

“No! Do not encourage her.”

“It’s going to work!” _I’ll show you all, _she told herself. I’ll prove it. For Star’s sake.

“Please, you are only hurting yourself by doing this.” Yvgeny kneeled down and managed to pry the wand out of her hands—granted, her grip on it had been shaky.

“What are you—no! Give it back!” She was on her feet in an instant, repeatedly trying to steal it back. He held it well above her head, just out of her reach.

“Queen—“

“Give it back! Give it back, now!” She started beating her fists against his arm weakly, desperately. When the wand still had not returned to her hands, she collapsed into heavy, miserable sobs. Yvgeny frowned sorrowfully at the poor queen, holding onto her shoulder to prevent her from toppling over where she stood.

When the tears had finally run its course, her shoulders dropped in resignation. Her pleading, watery gaze connected with the frog monster. “What am I supposed to do?”

“You should take rest, come back with clear head. Then maybe you will find answer.”

She sniffled and nodded slowly.

“If there is one thing I know about Toffee, is that he is liar. He get inside your mind, make you think all the wrong things.” He turned and looked in the direction that Toffee had left, glaring with contempt. “What he know about magic, anyway?”

Moon’s eyes followed. The septarian had since disappeared, leaving no trace or hint of where he might have gone.

A commotion of royal guards and a few curious passerby had begun to gather around the edge of the crater. Upon seeing the state of the queen, the guards jumped down so that they could escort all of them up to safety.

“Your majesty! Are you alright?” the guard captain asked, skidding to a halt in front of her. “That was quite the explosion…”

Moon hurriedly scooped the wand fragments up from off of the ground, depositing them in the same jar that had previously held Toffee’s finger. Only after she was sure she had all of the pieces did she respond to the guard. “Y-yes, I’m fine, I wasn’t hurt…”

The guard noticed that she had been crying almost immediately. Her reddened and puffy eyes were a dead giveaway, and she likely was showing her grief very clearly. The captain was about to start speaking again, but Moon caught something in the corner of her vision that was more of a pressing matter. A few of the other guards that had jumped down into the crater were now attempting to handcuff both Ludo and Yvgeny—it seemed like they were having difficulty finding handcuffs of the right sizes for either of them, however.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Moon demanded, projecting her voice as clearly as she could manage through her emotional turmoil.

The guards shared glances with each other. It took a couple of moments before one of them dared to speak. “Um… arresting these monsters, your majesty?”

“He helped me,” she said, pointing at Yvgeny. “Where exactly do you think you are taking him?”

“Well, we were going to imprison both of them until further notice, just to be safe.”

“No, you will not. Not him. Buff Frog has not done anything wrong.”

“But, your majesty, he’s a—“

“No. That is an order.”

“If you insist, your majesty.” The closest guard removed the cuffs he had been attempting to lock on his wrists, sparing a judgmental glance at him. Yvgeny took the high road and ignored him entirely. As the guards turned their attention back to Ludo, he crossed the clearing to stand in front of Moon.

“T-thank you, Queen.” The monster quickly bowed his head in gratitude. “I am terribly sorry about Star… if there is anything I can do to help, please let me know.”

“You have your own family to take care of,” Moon responded curtly, her tone coming off as cold. She realized this and tried to backpedal. “…so you don’t need to worry about me and my problems. I’ll be okay.”

He seemed to understand what she meant. He nodded his goodbye and, with one last “thank you” and a solemn look at all of the saddened faces around him, he left the scene and returned to the forest.

“What about him, your majesty?” the guard captain asked, motioning to Ludo. The kappa had already been handcuffed and the guards were waiting for further direction from the queen.

Moon addressed him directly, which seemed to startle him again. “Ludo, you have committed many crimes against my kingdom. I can’t simply forgive that.”

Guiltily, he dipped his head. “I understand.”

That was good enough for the guards, who were quick to escort him away as a prisoner. As they began to climb out of the crater, the captain noticed that Moon hadn’t moved from where she stood. She was staring at the ground silently.

“My Queen? Are you sure that you are alright?”

Quickly, Moon assessed her priorities. “Issue a dimension-wide arrest warrant for Toffee of Septarsis immediately. Make it of the highest importance, have him brought back alive.”

“B-but your majesty, is that not to be the decision of the entire Magical High Commission? Do you have the authority to make such a—“

“I am the only one left.” Her voice dropped to a low, serious tone. “I am making this decision on their behalf.”

“Wh— do you mean to tell me that the High Commission is dead?!”

“No, they’re not dead! No one has died!” Part of her knew her denial was more personally motivated than she’d like to admit. Exhaling loudly, she attempted to calm herself. “Just… please, please… do as I ask.”

The captain, despite her frown, raised her hand to her head in a salute. “O-of course. Right away, your majesty. My apologizes.”

“Find him,” Moon ordered, clenching her fists. “We have to find him.”

[mercurryblack]

Chapter 2: Rudyard

Following a shocking bit of news, Rudyard makes a rendezvous with his old leader.

❃❃❃

Sardion had ended the call with a request; that Rudyard come immediately to the Second Precinct, where he was with the detective leading the investigation.

As Rudyard ran, he felt intense guilt seep into his thoughts. Two of his old teammates were dead and he wasn’t there to save them. He was a Huntsman— to him, it should have been his duty to save them. How could this happen? He kept mentally repeating over and over on the way.

Almost too soon enough, he was leaning outside of the detective’s office, bent over in exhaustion with one hand propping him against the door. Through the window, Sardion had already been speaking to the detective when they saw Rudyard doubled over outside. The detective, a dark-skinned woman who he failed to recognize, hurried outside to help him up.

“Sir Millard, are you alright? Let’s get you up.” she motioned for Sardion to help her with Rudyard.

“Wha— what happened? How—? They can’t be gone. Please tell me this is just a bad joke, Sardion.” Rudyard held on to Sardion’s arm, his voice wavering with a mixture of exertion and emotion as he tried to catch his breath.

Sardion couldn’t bear to look Rudyard in the eye. He was silently struggling to maintain his own composure. Yaara and Berilo had not only been his friends, but his family. The moment they had become a team, all those years ago, had made them feel inseparable. Now, that  very same moment felt like a cruel trick decades in the making.

“Damn it, you two, just tell me—! I need to know what happened!” Rudyard snapped, having managed to finally catch his breath.

The detective glanced over at the Huntsman, who had sunken down onto a small couch by the wall. “I know you must be devastated by this news, Sir Millard, but unfortunately, a lot of this case isn’t clear yet.” She sat down on her office chair and grabbed a file from her desk.

Rudyard spared a glance up at her desk— near its front was a nameplate, on which Det. Agave Yuen, Royal Mistral Police was embossed in brass. He quietly took note of this, as it meant he didn’t have to keep mentally referring to her as “the detective” any longer.

Detective Yuen cleared her throat, before beginning to speak to the two Huntsmen. “Yaara Dailan and Berilo Gaspar were found dead this morning in their respective homes. Both of the deaths appear to have occurred within 24 hours, according to medical scans of their core body temperatures. In Miss Dailan’s body, there was a single gaping wound, which we suspect to be from a sword. On the other hand, Mister Gaspar received several smaller wounds of a similar nature, two of which severed arteries. In Miss Dailan’s case, there were signs of a struggle.” She paused, pursing her lips momentarily before continuing.. “We’ve got the when and where, but the who, why, and how of this case is still unclear. As of now, the forensics team hasn’t yet confirmed if they were in fact murdered or not, and there’s also—”

“Of COURSE they were murdered!” Rudyard shouted suddenly, rising to his feet. “How can you possibly be unsure of that?! Those two could kill droves of Grimm by themselves — to say nothing of when we were a team — and they’re not the kind of people someone could get the drop on! Whoever did this was clearly prepared for—!”

“Rudd, please. Calm down. Let Detective Yuen do her work.” said Sardion.

Rudyard wheeled around to face Sardion. “How can you stay calm, knowing two of our teammates are dead and we weren’t there for them?!” he retaliated.

Sardion flinched slightly at the indirect accusation, before letting out a deep, pained sigh. “Believe me, Rudd, I’m hurting as much as you are. The news wasn’t at all easy for me either, but you of all people should know that situations like this shouldn’t be met with an attitude like that.” Sardion did his best to maintain a civil attitude as he spoke, holding his palms out in a gesture of placation.

The resulting silence was deafening. Both Rudyard and Sardion were having trouble connecting the dots that led them to this moment — it all seemed too sudden, too soon. One second, they had been fresh graduates of Haven taking on their first real mission together, and the next they were mourning the deaths of half their team.

Agave, however, was stuck in between a rock and a hard place. If she continued, she felt like she’d upset Rudyard even more. But if she remained silent, Sardion would feel like their time was being wasted.

When she was approached by the Mistral Police about the deaths of Yaara and Berilo, the detective knew that she wasn’t dealing with a regular case. She was handling that of people from SYBR, the top team of the Haven graduating class of 58 AV. They had been the champions of the 28th Vytal Festival.

At any rate, she had to be prepared for anything in this case.

The silence was broken by Sardion speaking up. “Please continue, Detective Yuen.”

“Are you sure? If it’s too distressing for Sir Millard, he can catch up with the investigation on a later date.” Yuen replied, subtly gesturing with a hand towards Rudyard.

Sardion shook his head. “The longer we sit here grieving, the longer whoever did this is still roaming the streets. We don’t know who they might come for next, or if we’re already being targeted.” He glanced over at Rudyard. “You calmed down?”

“Mmm.” Rudyard responded with an ambiguous murmur, taking a deep breath.

Yuen nodded as she returned to the topic of the investigation. “Well, as I was saying right now, the majority of the case is still left unanswered. That’s why we asked you to come here. You two were the ones who knew the victims best. You could help them—” 

“Too late for that. We weren’t there to help them then, and I don’t see what good it’ll do now.” Rudyard quietly muttered.

Yuen coughed awkwardly at Rudyard’s interruption. “…Be that as it may, I plan on getting to the bottom of this, so if not for them, at least help me out.” She turned to her computer momentarily, typing in a command for a new document before turning back to Sardion and Rudyard “I’m going to ask you some questions that might guide us toward the right path to take. Shall we start?”

“Go ahead, detective.” Sardion motioned to Yuen, as she began typing into the document with one hand.

“Where were both of you yesterday evening, and did you have any contact with Yaara Dailan or Berilo Gaspar during that period of time?”

Rudyard looked up, a slightly appalled expression on his face “...You can’t be implying we had something to do with—” He stopped as Sardion rested a hand on his shoulder.

“Easy, Rudd. It’s just the regular police line of questioning, we’re not being interrogated.” He turned back towards Yuen before responding. “I was at home with Asagi, myself. We called it an early night.”

Yuen typed into the computer for a moment. “Asagi… as in Asagi Sarikaya, your daughter?”

“That’s right.” Sardion answered.

Yuen typed a bit more. “And the home… you live in the Saku District, House 217, is that correct?”

“Correct.”

“Right, then.” Yuen clicked her mouse twice. “And you, Sir Millard?”

Rudyard let out a sigh before looking up to face Yuen. “I was heading home from… from the Gardens of Remembrance, over in the Yoake District.”

Sardion’s eyes widened slightly, and he inhaled sharply. Now it was no wonder Rudyard had been taking this so hard— this tragedy was following right on the heels of the anniversary of another one. 

Noticing Sardion’s response, Yuen raised an eyebrow as she turned to her computer screen and typed again, pulling up Rudyard’s personal record.

A pause.

“…Ah. Yes, I see. I’m very sorry about that.” Yuen said, wincing to herself as she looked over Rudyard’s file.

The red-clad Huntsman shrugged. “I considered hitting up the Blackbird, that bar a few blocks down from my house, but I figured that could wait until this evening.” Rudyard continued. “Then I got the call, and… well, here we are now.”

Agave nodded, and kept on typing on her computer. Half a minute later, she faced Rudyard and Sardion again and proceeded to continue the line of questioning. “Do you know anyone who might have done this to them? Anyone who might have a motive?”

“Everyone they’ve met, they treated well. They were professionals, but always friendly to others. I don’t know anyone who could be so angry at those two to the point of murder.” Sardion answered.

“No old enemies, looking to settle scores? No connections that might have considered them ‘loose ends’?”

Sardion shook his head, but Rudyard paused for a moment. He knew that Yaara and Berilo had been embroiled in some secretive missions, and there was always the off chance that the murders could have been a cleanup job.

After a moment spent contemplating, he responded, “…Not that I was ever aware of, no.”

❃❃❃

After an hour of questioning the two Huntsmen, Detective Yuen was finally satisfied with the report she had on file. “Thank you, gentlemen. That’s all I need to know for now.” she said, snapping the lid of her computer shut. The three stood up from where they were sitting. As Rudyard and Sardion were about to head out the door, Yuen stopped them. “I know this may be asking a lot, especially considering that it’s already been one bad day, but do you mind helping us catch whoever did this in other ways?”

“Absolutely.” Rudyard said without hesitation.

“Same h— wait, what do you mean by ‘other ways’?” Sardion asked.

Yuen exhaled heavily through her nostrils before responding. “Despite the prep for the Festival, we’re not short of the police force overall, and I also have my subordinates doing some groundwork. However, I think a little more help wouldn’t hurt. For one thing, you two knew the victims better than anyone, and your input and added skills as Huntsmen should be a boon.” she explained.

Sardion looked at Rudyard. “Are you sure you’re up for this, Rudyard?” he inquired.

Rudyard nodded. “Yes. Anything I can do to help, just say the word.”

“And what about you, Sir Sarikaya?” Agave inquired. “It’s on your record that you have a daughter at home, so if you’re concerned for your own safety…”

Sardion took a moment to consider his response. He had chosen to lie low of his Huntsman duties since his daughter Asagi had been born, in favor of raising her.  Ever since then, all he could think about was spending time with her— her mother had passed on when Asagi was very young, and he had made plenty of money from missions before her birth to retire from missions. Being the champion of the 28th Vytal Festival hadn’t hurt his socioeconomic prospects, either, and his domestic life had been a comfortable one.

But now, things were different. Asagi was already sixteen and preparing to apply as a Huntress herself— she wouldn’t be at home for much longer. And despite the decline of his skills with age, he’d kept up his training well enough to handle himself in a fight should one come along.

It was time to get back to his duties as a leader once again, and avenge his comrades.

“Of course. I wouldn’t be able to sleep anyways, knowing that their killers are still on the loose.” he answered firmly.