#Kynan x cassandra

[joyfulsongbird]

more kynan and cassandra!! for anyone who loves them as much as i do <3

[hayleysayshay]

There’s an appeal for me if Cassandra quietly marries Kynan after ten years of knowing him in secret. Just drops it into conversation to Percy and Vex that she and Kynan are married. They’d be confused that they didn’t say anything but they would be just like Percy and Vex, sooooo deal with it

[geekalogian]

This is your friendly reminder that it was never explicitly stated that kynan and Cassandra DIDN'T fall in love with each other and work through their massive trauma together and so that is the Canon I choose for myself thank you goodnight

[lavellenchanted]

i’ll hold your weary hands (and sit with you through the storm)

fandom: critical role pairing: kynan x cassandra words: 2.2k a kind of ‘missing’ scene from 101, because cassandra needs a hug and if percy’s not going to give her one I’m going to make kynan do it

Kynan ran his fingers lightly over the blade of his new dagger. It was beautifully forged, the seams where the metal had been folded in on itself invisible, with a faint blue tinge to the dark grey steel. The edge was honed to wicked sharpness and gleamed where it caught the early morning sunlight.

Experimentally he threw it across the yard towards the training dummies. It was well balanced as well as beautiful, and spun, flashing, through the air to thud into the wooden head of one dummy with a solid, echoing thunk.

As he walked over to retrieve it, Kynan considered the damage he would be able to do with it in a battle. He hadn’t been in a real fight for more than a year – nothing beyond training bouts and dealing with the occasional troublemaker since Glintshore – but from the way people were speaking, it was possible one might soon come to Whitestone. If he was honest, Kynan didn’t know how emotionally prepared he would be for it. But at least he would be well-armed.

One more thing to thank Vax’ildan for. One more thing Kynan would never be able to truly repay him for, although he did his best every day to live up to the trust placed in him.

When he was being kind to himself he thought that, perhaps, he had proved himself at least somewhat worthy of the second chance he had been given. He had spent the year building up and training the Whitestone rifle corps, under Percival’s supervision, and lent a hand around the city wherever one was needed to help Whitestone begin to grow and thrive again. He had worked diligently at his own training with Jarrett, so that should he be needed to defend the city he could, and it showed in the muscle he had put on, the hardened lines of his body.

The blood on his hands might not ever completely wash away, but he could, he hoped, do enough good to balance it somewhat.

The sound of voices and footsteps broke into his thoughts, and he turned to see a few of the castle guards come around the corner. One caught sight of him and called out,

“Morning, Leore! Lady Cassandra not with you today?”

“No, not today,” Kynan replied, slipping the dagger back into his belt, but as the guards turned away he frowned and glanced up at the sky. He hadn’t realised it was so late. Cassandra normally joined him well before this.

Of course, there were days when she couldn’t come, having to attend to urgent duties, but usually she let him know.

He hesitated only a moment before starting for the castle.

There were a few people he had gotten to know in Whitestone that he would call friends, but the closest, the only one who knew the entirety of his past, was – a little oddly, perhaps – Cassandra. It had begun when she had approached him, intrigued by the fact that her brother had put him in charge of training people to use his guns, and developed when, on realising they both fought with daggers, they began sparring together.

From the start she had been easy to talk to. Perhaps it was because of the informality of their training sessions that allowed things other circumstances wouldn’t; Cassandra had once told him that she looked forward to their mornings together, a few hours where she could put aside her worries and responsibilities, not be the Lady of the Whitestone, but just herself.

More likely it was just her. Kynan had made sure she knew exactly who he was and how he had ended up here, what he had a been a part of, but she had not judged or blamed him as he expected. As he deserved. She had understood. She had looked him straight in the eye and told him it wasn’t too late to make amends. And then she told him of her own past, her entanglement with the Briarwoods and the years trapped by them that had carved her out and twisted her thoughts, and that was when Kynan began to understand her.

That understanding bonded them, in a way he couldn’t describe to someone who hadn’t lived through such a thing. Who hadn’t been turned inside out and unmade, woken from a nightmare where they were the monster. Who hadn’t had to put the broken pieces of themselves back together and hope there were enough left to make a whole.

It hadn’t been friendship, though. Not exactly. That came later, as they got to know each other over the weeks and then months. When Kynan discovered that Cassandra liked orchid tea (occasionally with a splash of rum), and that she used to use the servants’ passages in the castle to play tricks on her brothers. When he told her about his childhood in Emon and he had almost lost a toe to a very angry tom cat when he was nine.

The more he learned about her, the more layers were pulled back, the more he admired her. Her strength and resilience, for what she had endured and the burdens she now bore for Whitestone, her determination not to fail in her duties. The gentleness that managed to survive her experiences, the kindness she showed to people like him, the mischievous sense of humour that she tried to keep under tight control for appearances’ sake but that still shone through every now and then.

He admired her more than was probably appropriate given their stations, but he couldn’t feel sorry about it. It wasn’t just his promise to Vax that drove him to keep an eye on her now, it was how much she had come to mean to him. He wanted nothing more than to be a help and support to her.

And it was personal concern that now drove him up the stairs towards her study.

Normally, he wouldn’t be so worried that she hadn’t come this morning – but the lack of note, and the anxious demeanour Vox Machina had worn before they left yesterday …

… he didn’t know what was wrong, but he had an uneasy feeling and he needed to see that Cassandra was alright.

He knocked gently on her door. There was a pause and then her voice called out, slightly muffled, “Yes? I – I’m a little busy just now. Is it important?”

“It’s me. Ah, Kynan, I mean.”

Silence.

“Cassandra?”

“Come in.”

When he opened the door, he was struck first by the overwhelming scent of freshly-cut flowers that were dotted around the room and then, underneath, the faint, lingering smell of sick.

Cassandra was at her desk, head in her hands, but stood as he came in. She looked like she had dressed hurriedly, without much thought. Strands of hair were coming loose, and a couple of buttons were in the wrong holes. It was her face that Kynan fixed on though: she was even paler than usual, a faint grey tinge to her skin. Dark shadows cut below her red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes, and there was an unnatural tightness in the set of her jaw.

Kynan shut the door and crossed anxiously over to her.

“I’m sorry I missed our sparring session,” she started, but he cut her off.

“What’s wrong? Are you ill?”  

She shook her head, eyes slowly rising to meet his. She looked haunted. Sharp anger and worry rose in him, and questions fought to be asked. What had happened, who had done this, what did he have to do to take that look away from her right this instant.

“Not exactly. I …” A small crease appeared in her forehead. “I don’t quite know how to say this.”

Kynan lifted his hand as though he might take hers, but after a moment let it drop back to his side. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

Slowly, as if only half aware of what she was doing, she nodded. “I think you might be the only person I can tell. You … you know my brother and his friends were away for a couple of days?”

“Yeah, I heard.”

“They were investigating another ziggurat, like the one below the castle.”

He hadn’t seen it, but she had told him about it. The pyramid, and the orb that nullified any nearby magic. That was tied to something dark, and which many important and powerful people had been investigating for a long time but still didn’t entirely understand.

Cassandra swallowed nervously, and turned to look out the window as she continued. “It was in Marquet. When they found it they fought a group of cultists that were using it for something. They killed some, but others got away, including their leader.”

Something about the way she said ‘leader’ told Kynan this was what was troubling her. He tilted his head slightly, waiting.

“Their leader …” Her voice was barely a whisper. “Their leader is Delilah Briarwood.”

Cold horror swept over Kynan, and he heard his breath escape in a low hiss. He had never met the Briarwoods, but he had heard enough to know what kind of monsters they were. What they had done to Cassandra. How hard she had fought to claw her way back from where they had taken her, to put their lingering memory behind her.

Delilah’s reappearance was her worst nightmare come true.

Her blue eyes met his, and he could see how much she was struggling to hold herself together and not let all those broken pieces she had glued back together come apart again.

He thought about how easy he would find it to crumble if Ripley suddenly reappeared.

“How is that possible?” he asked, wishing he could do something – strike Delilah down, or just take away the fear and pain she had left behind.

Cassandra gave a broken, bitter laugh. “She’s a necromancer. Once I thought about it,  I was more surprised that I was surprised.”

“Do you think she’ll come here?”

“I don’t know.”

She looked so small, and unsure, and Kynan was filled with a violent hatred for the people that had hurt her. That made her doubt herself, when she was so good and so brilliant, and everything he would like to be himself.

Reaching out, he placed a hand on her shoulder and she blinked up at him. Other than their sparring, they didn’t really touch. Close as they were, they were both aware of their positions. And he was too aware of his own feelings not to keep a careful distance between them.

“If she does, she is not going to take you again. You’re stronger than that.”

“Am I?”

“Yes. You know what she did, what she is now. You found your way back from what she tried to turn you into, and I know you won’t let yourself be pulled back there,” he said fervently, needing her to see just how much he believed it. “And you’re not alone any more. You have your brother, and Vox Machina. You have all of Whitestone. And … and you have me.”

Her hands were trembling, he noticed.

“It’s okay to be scared. She put you through hell. But you’re better than she is, in every way. You’ll get through this too.”

A tiny, almost hysterical smile pulled at her mouth. “When Percival told me she was back, I … I threw up.”

He moved without really thinking, only aware that she needed comforting and he needed to comfort her. She gave a little squeak of surprise as he pulled her into his arms, and at first went stiff and still. Slowly, she relaxed into the embrace. Her hands moved around to rest on his back, and she rested her head against his chest. Her could feel her heart thudding through her ribs, and smell the flowery fragrance she wore.

He wondered when was the last time she had been hugged. She was a formal person, and from what he had observed she and her brother weren’t given to overt physical displays of affection. He squeezed her gently, bending down to set his chin on top of her head, wishing that just by enfolding her in his arms he could protect her from the world.

And then, all of a sudden, it was like a dam broke. Her weight slumped heavily against him and her arms abruptly tightened, her fingers tangling in the back of his shirt and her face burying into his chest. Her shoulders heaved as quiet sobs tore from her throat, and her could feel her shaking. His heart constricted painfully in his chest.

“I-I’m sorry,” she gasped out, “I just need a moment.”

“It’s okay. I’m right here.”

When the sobs subsided though, she didn’t make any move to pull away from him and he made no move to let her go.

“Kynan?” Her voice vibrated through him as she spoke. “If she does come here, you’ll fight with me?”

“I won’t leave your side,” he promised.

There was a pause, and then she asked, “Do you have things to be getting back to?”

“Nothing as important as this.”

“Good. Can we stay like this for a while? This is nice.”

“As long as you want.”

Perhaps he couldn’t kill Delilah Briarwood for her. But he could hold her, and be there to help fight her other demons, and perhaps that was enough.

[vvindex]

@oceansburned replied to your post: ❝I don’t want to have to watch your walk of shame...

i’m 100% here for kynan x cassandra ship jsyk. get it kynan

hard same and since i don’t have a cass to write with i will mAKE IT MYSELF

[sovinly]

I was tagged in a First Lines Meme by @theladyragnell ages ago, and am now finally doing it! Basically you put the first line of your last twenty fics, to look for patterns, and then tag some other writing-type people. But I am terrible at tagging, sooooo.

1. “Hey,” Cosette says, and her voice is so, so soft against his ears. (x)

2. Cassandra isn’t entirely sure why it didn’t occur to any of Vox Machina to explain the Kynan situation to her. (x)

3. Grantaire wants to go home.  (x)

4. The candlelight flickered across the page of Feuilly’s open book, vanishing nearly to darkness before swaying back and then again, almost blown out by a strong gust of wind. (x)

5. Even before Combeferre is fully awake, foggy dreams starting to fade to a waking blur, he feels the crushing weight on his bones. (x)

6. Laigle has all but given up hope of being lucky in love. (x)

7. "You cannot still be sulking over that article, Enjolras," Joly says, hopping up a little to perch on the table, swinging her feet slightly. (x)

8. "I want to try something," Enjolras said, impulsively voicing the idea that he’d been toying with for a week as he played with the soft tufts of Grantaire's curls and they sprawled back against the pillows of Enjolras' bed, soaked in the golden late afternoon sun. (x)

9. Their last job was an absolutely success, and all of them are riding high on it. (x)

10. Paris is cold in November, and Éponine wishes they could afford to leave the heating on longer. (x)

11. “You should go on a date.” (x)

12. It’s definitely not Bossuet’s fault that there’s no one in the café and that the newscasters are spending plenty of time covering Les Amis de l’ABC’s fight against the latest supervillain to invade Paris. (x)

13. Though history was one of Grantaire's favorite subjects, he still had problems focusing and paying attention, too distracted by wandering thoughts and glimpses of passing birds and shapeless smears of clouds barely visible through the windows. (x)

14. Objectively, Enjolras knew that he should probably give himself more time to recuperate and rest. (x)

15. No matter how many years and how much practice Combeferre has had of cataloging objects for records and display, he has never gotten used to the niggling voice at the back of his head screaming about the value. (x)

16. It was no longer rare for them to carve out moments together where they could, stealing the long evenings from their busy hours even if only to work together with an ease that only deepened with the passing of time. (x)

17. There came a knock at the door of Enjolras’ rooms, causing him to startle a little, barely avoiding knocking over his ink. (x)

18. Trouble starts, as it does, in the forest. (x)

19. It's only as Enjolras is showing Bahorel and Feuilly out the door, everyone else having left the low key, informal meeting in his apartment already, that he notices the usual detritus littering his living room. (x)

20. The world slowly, coldly slips into focus, and Grantaire blinks a little dazedly, shivering. (x)

Oh man, looking at these all together, they all feel really similar? Out of context, they all read like “Here is a thesis statement on the central premise of this story and/or the POV character’s general mindset/approach!” I tend to either have a sentence suggesting/describing the status quo or about the inciting change before the action starts. Or, y’know, the condition predicating the story in general. I think they also tend to be atmospheric in some sense or another? Whether that’s character mindset (especially in regards to disorientation) or a concrete detail or description. A lot of these first lines tend to be shorter sentences than I often have. I am super predictable, y’all. Whoops.

Anyway! I am not sure who all has enough fics to tag? But if you wanna do this, you should absolutely feel free to! I would love to see other people’s answers.

[lastdcrolo-blog]

a smooch from kynan :*

(@talestrung​ | x)

It had been a year or so since Whitestone had been taken back into the proper hands. Even though Cassandra was still the lead in ruling this city, Percival had started to assist on more than one occasion. The assists lead to Cass having a small amount of time to spend on her own. Though she never was truly alone. As always, Kynan was by her side wherever she went.

At first Cass had thought of it as good way to know someone her own age, but it had evolved since then. Kynan was not only someone to keep her safe, but also her confidant at times. He was there through the terrors at night, he was there when she started to forget where reality started and her terrible memories ended.

Though it was one of those rare occasions currently in which she had more than enough time on her hands. As she walked through the newly grown garden behind the castle she had turned to look over at Kynan.

     “You do know you don’t have to      follow me everywhere.”

There was a chuckle to her voice as she spoke. It was a small joke to them at this point, being able to get away with being this close without worry of prying eyes. Before he could reply however Cassandra leaned over, slightly onto the tips of her toes and pressed a quick kiss against his lips. Just as soon as she had let her lips touch his, she was pulling away, back to her place besides him. 

     “Though I do appreciate it.”

[joyfulsongbird]

“The holiday of Highsummer has arrived but neither Cassandra nor Kynan can feel the joy of the day. That is, until Cassandra decides to take the evening off for festivities, the events of which send them both into a flurry of confusing feelings.”

*

chapter three!!! this is truly my favorite chapter in the entire fic :)

[joyfulsongbird]

for the 3.5 people that exist that might be interested in a kynan/cassandra fic............ take this excerpt.

[joyfulsongbird]

“Cassandra and Kynan grow closer, a little too close for comfort. Cassandra becomes uncomfortable with her growing affection for her guard and makes her first attempt at pushing him away.”

*

second chapter is up!! Feelings Are Happening.

[joyfulsongbird]

excerpt from my magnum opus of a fic pt.3 (or kynan and cassandra content for those of you that Care for them like i do 🤲)

[joyfulsongbird]

WIP wednesday!!! here’s a lil bit that makes me soft for these two

kynan and cassandra fic is done and in the editing process! can’t wait to share it honestly

[joyfulsongbird]

someday i’m gonna write the kynan x cassandra fic i’ve always dreamed to write and it’s gonna be amazing and nobody is gonna care except for me but it’s gonna be so good mark my words

[hayleysayshay]

What's the fanfic idea you're most excited about? How about one you dread writing but love to spin in your head (because it'd be a lot of work/kick a hornets' nest/be super niche/etc.)?

Okay I’m just going to say a bunch of my faves and they’re varying degrees of crazy and they all sort

I’ve been loving vampire Percy AUs so I wanted to write on with barely any actual campaign plot events because they’re already being written. So basically Vox Machina kill Ripley and free an imprisoned vampire she was experimenting on. My original idea was he runs away, then they bump into him again and they join up after a few friendly meetings. But my new idea is they just keep Percy and teach him how to be a vampire, because that’s adorable to me. Either way the plot is ‘maybe we can find a cure for Percy’s vampirism’ to Vex saying ‘I’m down with being a vampire 👉👈’ Perc’ahlia romance. There’s zero revenge demon or Chroma Conclave in this so it’s just them travelling and doing some mercenary work. Also Keyleth is a werewolf in this AU because two days into her Aramente she got bitten and she’s looking for a cure. Grog really wants vampire percy and werewolf Keyleth to fight eachother. (This was originally a broader Paranormal VM AU where one of the twins or Scanlan could talk to ghosts, but I just don’t like ghosts much so I ditched it and don’t want to let go of werewolf Kiki). I have no middle for this fanfic so we’ll see.

I really, really want to write the Pacific Rim AU but it’s a lot of worldbuilding, even though I’ve seen the movie, I’ve never actually read pacific rim fanfic and the scale of this gives me a headache (I do not know how to write a drifting AU). But I think it would be a lot of fun

A fanfic that I’m excited about in that I could reasonably finish it if I got my arse in gear is the Arranged Marriage Cassandra post-campaign fic that’s endgame Cass x Kynan, I have just got caught up on the idea maybe I should have a Percy and Kynan POV or just keep it to Cassandra.

And my dream fanfic that’s rad in my head is an AU where only Percy dies at the hands of the Briarwoods (who are killed) (resurrection ritual fails). Original!Vesper is devestated (Percy was her favourite) and becomes a powerful wizard, and wrecks revenge on anyone following Vecna, and keeps bumping into Vox Machina but Vesper offers little help with thre Chroma Conclave, and along the way Vesper decides that the real problem all along was the Raven Queen as she took Percy. It won’t end well. This plot is very complete in my head, I just don’t know how much story it would actually be yet (just a one shot or more of an epic story). I think out of all of them this is the most niche as it really only appeals to me who wants to write about the original de Rolo’s (because the rest of the family are waiting in Whitestone, hoping she comes home).

[geekalogian]

Personal Guard

In which Ronnie, USDA Certified Shipper TrashTM, explores her thoughts and feelings about Cassandra needing some extra reassurance at night.

----

The sun begins to dip below the mountains, and Cassandra de Rolo is unsure whether she will survive the next few hours of darkness.

Despite their formalities, it is. . . better when Percival is here.  Especially with all of his powerful friends vacationing within the city limits.  The guards of Whitestone are a capable sort, but . . . nobody has withstood that evil woman.  Nobody was able to beat back her reign.

Nobody but Percival and his friends.

They are gone, and they will defeat her, and they will unmake her, and Delilah Briarwood will never lay a pale, delicate hand upon Cassandra again. . . 

Right?

As the shadows lengthen in her chamber, Cassandra cannot help but shudder.  Her faith in Percival is anything but certain as the darkness looms.

Her fingers grip her own arms tighter, leaving white imprints as she considers how to be strong for her people, how not to scream or shudder or vomit again when--

knock knock knock

“Lady Cassandra?”

She jumps, but then regains her composure quickly.  The voice is soft, familiar . . . youthful.   “Who is it?” Her voice is commanding, even though her hands still shake against her arms. “I gave specific orders not to be disturbed.”

“I-it’s Kynan, milady,” the voice on the other end of the door seems unsure now.  “Erm.  I mean. Captain Leore. I’m terribly sorry to disturb, but. . .I’m acting on orders from another member of the council.”

Cassandra crosses to the door, opening it just a crack--just enough to narrow her eyes at the man standing before her. He’s lanky and awkward, but his face bears the same haunted expression as her own does when it stares at her in the mirror.  It’s the expression of someone who has grown up too quickly and suffered too much.

He takes the moment of pause to continue to explain himself.  “Your broth--erm, I mean, as Captain of the Riflemen, it is my duty to take orders from my commanding officer, and he gave explicit orders that your door be put under 24-hour guard.”  He nods, mustering an expression that is more comical than commanding.  Cassandra stifles a smile.

“Well, despite the orders of your commander, Captain Leore, I am in no need of extra protection from the guards.  Their efforts are better spent on the walls, protecting our people.”  She is about to shut the door again, but finds that Kynan has stealthily blocked this move with his own boot.

“You misunderstand, milady.”  Kynan dips his head, then brandishes his own firearm.  “I have been given explicit orders to carry out this duty personally.”

“Personally?” Cassandra echoes, raising an eyebrow.

“I--I believe his reasoning was that I alone of the Riflemen have been personally trained by no less than two of the members of Vox Machina.”  He scratches the back of his neck. “In addition, I have had more experience with magics and other dangers, and can thus provide more assurance for your ladyship than another member of the guard might.” Cassandra lets a small smirk creep onto her face now.  Oh, Percival.  This is. . . as sweet a gesture as one could expect.

“Very well, Captain Leore.”

“Kynan, please.”

“Kynan.  I would be foolish to turn away such a capable member of my brother’s brigade.”

Kynan straightens, attempting to look as official as possible.  “I shall remain at my post then, Milady.”

“Do get some rest when you can,” she instructs. “I want my personal guard to be healthy and able-bodied.”

“Of course, Milady.”

With one more awkward, parting nod, Cassandra finally closes the door, and collapses into a more relaxed--if begrudgingly so--slumber.

----

She isn’t sure what wakes her first--her own screaming or Kynan’s.

“HALT IN THE NAME OF PELOR AND WHITESTONE!” He roars, gun brandished in one hand and a shining dagger gripped in the other.  Cassandra is clutching her blankets to herself as Kynan tears around the room, kicking over furniture and tearing back the curtains.  After a few moments of this, he whirls around to Cassandra, voice quiet as he begins to dip into a stealthy crouch.  “Did you see where they went?”

Cassandra blinks.  “Who? What are you doing in my room?”

In the darkness, she almost misses the way his eyebrows recede up to his hairline.  “Defending you?  You screamed something about getting away from you, and so I came to protect you?”

It all comes back to Cassandra in a rush.  The nightmares must be back again.  It had been so lovely sleeping without them, too.  She is glad for the thin beams of moonlight, which are not enough illumination to reveal how flushed she must be now.

“I am. . . terribly sorry, Kynan.  It is nothing.  It is just. . . . I had a. . .” He stands suddenly, nodding and holstering his weapons.  “Nightmare.” He finishes for her.  “You get them too?”

She turns so that her face is obscured by the darkness, raising the sheets to wipe away the tears.  “I didn’t.  For a while.  Apparently I do once more.”

There is a lengthy pause before her companion breaks the silence.  “The other guards used to look at me like a monster,” he whispers.  “I would wake up screaming about the blood on my hands.  Jarrett was the only one who would listen.  It helped.”  She feels the side of her bed dip as her guard sits at her feet.  “I cannot protect you from monsters inside of you, but I can. . . listen.  If you like.”

Cassandra is about to balk and order him out of her chamber, but then she thinks back to her brother and his friends.  She thinks of the new Baroness, looping her arm through Percival’s, and wonders how much they speak of the nightmares they have endured. It would be nice for someone to hear it.

“How much do you know of Whitestone before Vox Machina arrived?” she begins, allowing her voice to tremble ever so slightly.

----

It doesn’t happen every night that they are gone.  It isn’t as rare as Cassandra would like, either.

He stops coming in with his weapons drawn by the third time.  The fifth, She awakens to his hands gripping her shoulders, speaking in a soft but firm voice that it isn’t real, until she wakes.  The sixth, she gives him a scratch under his eye when she is flailing to get away from Silas until she realizes it is only him.  He never pulls away until she asks him to.

The ninth time, she stops asking him to.

“You could. . . stay.” She ventures.  “Inside the door, I mean.  No sense in waking the whole castle with my shouting, and you can get to me faster, then.”

“I--I couldn’t, milady--”

“Cassandra.  Please.  I’ve told you that for weeks now.”

“Yes, of course, milady--I just.  I wouldn’t want to invade your privacy.”

“You listen to the horrors of my youth as part of your regular routine now,” Cassandra can’t help but smile.  She couldn’t prove it, but she thinks that Kynan is blushing.  “We are far past invasion of privacy.  I would not ask it if I did not wish it.”

He relaxes a bit, and Cassandra can see the barest hint of a grin creeping across Kynan’s face.  “Well, if it is the wish of Milad--I mean. . . If that’s what you want, Cassandra.”

She falls asleep as he pulls his cot into her chamber, but all she hears is his voice playing her name over in her head.

----

The cot is returned to the guardhouse a few more nightmare-filled weeks later.  Kynan does not return with it.

----

The Riflemen say nothing, of course.  They know better than to question when their Captain’s sleeping quarters are suddenly moved into the main bedchamber.  They know better than to breathe a word of the way anguished cries are cut short, turned to murmurs . . . then over the course of weeks, whispers and giggles.

They know better than to ask how Captain Leore’s personal guard duty is going when he arrives at shooting practice with his cravat tugged a bit higher than usual, his hair unkempt, and a distracted air that lasts well into the afternoon.

They will be very surprised if, when Vox Machina returns, Captain Leore is ever removed from the personal guard detail of Cassandra de Rolo.

[lavellenchanted]

me: it took me a while to warm up to ships in the first campaign, I’m definitely going to need to get the know the characters and their dynamics before I ship anything in the second

also me three episodes in: give me all the fjord x jester content because travis and laura are too cute