#adding to the hanger discourse

[ikemenvmpire]

Forget-me-not | Leonardo x Comte x Vlad

a/n: Hello beautiful ppl !!! It’s my first time writing a fic about this troublesome trio. Just to let you know there is no spoilers from Vlad’s route in this two-part series (could be three, you’ll never know). I wanted to showcase my fanon approach to their personal relationships and how they both psychologically and physically get affected by them. It’s quite rushed because of my finals and not proof-read I’m not satisfied with my writing, so please forgive me for possible grammar mistakes. Anyways, if you enjoy the content please interact! Let me know what you think, feedback means a lot to me.

Also my requests are open, I accept nsfw/sfw hcs and one-shots with any suitor you’d like

warning: angst, slight violence, true friends that stab you in the front, couple of sexual innuendos here and there.

word count: 2.1k

The good, the bad and the ugly. The subtle whisper inside of his head reminded him of a broken vinyl that kept dragging the notes of an unwanted invite from his memories.

His memories that lived inside his head as vivid as an Evening Primrose that blooms at night.

Upon hearing the silence that bled into the atmosphere surrounding them, Leonardo slowly settled the empty wine glass onto the glass table beside him.

“You’re too loud for your own good, Comte.”

Snapping out of his thoughts, Comte turned towards the man that now deliberately searched for a match as he continued with his words that caused nothing but confusion.

“The violin stopped but you did not.”

Comte’s gaze dropped on the floor, meeting with the bow of his instrument laying on the polished floor of his quarters.

Still not pleased with Leonardo’s discourse he locked his eyes with his, demanding clarity.

“I can no longer hear anything other than the wheels that are turning in your head” Leonardo concluded, finishing his words with a light chuckle.

“Him-“ Comte’s words cut short by the lump that disturbed his throat and the heavyweight of the regrets he held in, for god knows how long, creating an immense pressure in his chest.

“I thought so” Leonardo continued, observing as the smoke that he held captive between his plush lips now slowly blurred his vision.

The blond leaned his back against the wall, the soft breeze of the midnight made the curtain beside him caress his hand.

“How long do you plan on keeping this up ?” the tone of his voice was stone cold nevertheless the look in his eyes warmed them up as they echoed in the silent room.

“I don’t know.” Comte murmured, he truly had no idea how to get rid of this troublesome burden. If he did, they would be enjoying their wine instead of Comte’s whining.

“Come” the man said as he placed the cigarillo on the ashtray and got up from his comfortable seat.

“Where to-“ the clicking of his shoes stopped as Leonardo turned his head to the side, not bothering to fully face the man that was intently watching him.

“Follow me and don’t worry about the rest.”

Comte, with a swift movement of his head, urged the fallen strand of his hair move to the side as he lowered himself down to the brightly lit candle.

Following his own reflection on the wax as the drop gently slid down to the remaining pile of melted wax, drowning his reflection in the hot liquid.

He softly blew on the fire to put it out. The smoke mixed with the comforting scent of vanilla danced in the air across the smoke of Leonardo’s cigarette, that suffered the same faith as Comte.

The more he missed him, the more his thoughts invaded his mind, burning through his skull. The reminiscences of the memories that were surrounded by his partner with moonlit hair and even brighter smile, turned Comte into ashes. The consequences of his thought train left him hanging like a dark cloud of smoke.

He grabbed his coat from the hanger near him as he directed his steps towards Leonardo’s spot. Pushing himself to leave his room and his worries as he reaches out to the handle of the door to exit.

“Lead the way, Leo.”

The silence brought serenity as the two of them kept walking in the beautiful forest. The sound of the autumn leaves that tremors under the vigorous darkness of the night filled the air, Leonardo held the careless man that wasn’t watching where he was heading to by the arm.

“Here we are.”

Comte turned towards the tall tree that Leonardo leaned his back against, questioning the unfamiliar feeling that had his head turning.

Leonardo lifted his fist up as he slammed it down againts the tree. His unexpected harsh movement caused Comte to wear a dumbfounded expression. It also urged the nightingales that were previously settled on the branches of the same tree to bat their wings away as they sung a song through the night.

“Hide and seek.” Comte uttered, breathlessly as the rest of the memories poured into his subconscious.

“Ah, there we go. Vlad used to pull this stunt each time.”

Comte laughed, taking a couple of steps back as he fell onto the soft surface of the grass. His childish behavior made Leonardo lose his composure, making two purebloods roar with laughter.

“...and yet you fell for it. Each time.” Upon his shameless accusation, Leonardo frowned and kicked the pile of leaves ahead of him, making them rain on the man that laughed like a maniac.

Comte seeked shelter from his own arms as he let his back fall completely flat on the moist grass. Staining every piece of clothing item he had on.

“No matter my loss, you bought the beers. Sounds like victory to me.” Leonardo responded nonchalantly.

“I am still curious to know why would you hide behind a tree again and again, it’s ridiculously obvious.” Comte continued to laugh as he seemingly couldn’t stop himself even if he tried.

“Because it’s easier to hide behind it than to climb it” said Leonardo as a matter of fact.

Comte knew that his response could be interpreted with a single word rather than a whole phrase.

Lazy.

“It’s good to see you smile” he continued as he stared at the horizon.

Comte felt so close yet so far for the past couple of dawns this week. Leonardo surprised himself by being this worrisome of his friend, it was unexpected of him to act or feel this way.

“It hurts.” The painful hue of his tone caught Leonardo off guard.

He directed his gaze towards his feet as he tried to force out the appropriate words to describe how much he was hurting from within. Hoping that him spilling his guts to the only one he trusts, somehow would help lifting some of it’s weight off of his shoulders.

“Comte-“

“What did I do to make him push me away like he did back then ?”

Leonardo decided to seal his parted lips as he followed Comte’s soliloquy with absolute attention.

“I gave him all I had and all I was. My trust, respect and loyalty for him was indubitable.”

He continued, closing his eyes shut. The tension bled from his fingertips, through his soft locks. He clinged on his hair as he concentrated on the darkness behind his fluttering eyelids.

“It wasn’t enough” Leonardo added, carelessly kicking the rock in front of his feet. He knew that greed was more than welcome in Vlad’s vocabulary.

His world wasn’t tainted by useless distractions. He was either black or white, whereas those who considered him a friend lived under a gray sky.

“I wasn’t enough” Comte whispered, his words fell from his lips lighter than a feather.

Leonardo lowered himself to his level as he suddenly grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. Easily picking him up and capturing him between his strong hold and the tree.

Comte’s pulse quickened thanks to the adrenaline of the moment. His warm but fast breathing felt warm against Leonardo’s cheek.

“You.”

“Look at me and listen to me carefully because I will say this only once.”

“...and I will not see you whimper about shit that you can’t fix ever again.”

Comte, nervous as he was, found comfort in his vulgar action. The harsh friction against his back and even harsher words that tickled his ears made him come back to his senses.

“What would I do without you ?” Leonardo’s brows furrowed in response to Comte’s utterly sappy words.

“Presumably, what you do without me.”

Unanticipated voice that traveled through the depths of the forest made both of them turn their heads slowly as Leonardo’s hands abandoned Comte’s collar.

“Vlad.”

His soft chuckle concealed the suspense of unsolved matters. The air that Comte inhaled now felt sharper than a blade. Vlad’s presence left a bittersweet taste on his tongue. The type he didn’t want to get rid of but also the one he didn’t want to recall.

“Long time no see” Leonardo added, emotionlessly.

“You sound overjoyed Leonardo” Vlad responded, not disturbing his calm and collected aura, not even the slightest.

Comte huffed as he patted on the expensive material of his coat, trying to look more presentable.

“Why are you here ?” He hissed, avoiding possible eye contact in any way he could.

Vlad placed his hand on the inner side of his coat and dragged out a thin velvet envelope. Nearing towards his position, Comte fixed his posture, standing tall with overpowering feeling of manifactured confidence.

Vlad offered him a delightful smile as he raised the blood red envelope between his fingers and brushed the fallen strand of hair in front of Comte’s face with it.

The sharp edge of the envelope traced the delicate skin of his face, the sensation left him almost nervous. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, covering the his body with goosebumps.

Vlad, at last, pressed the envelope on Comte’s chest, where the palm of his hand found his heartbeat.

Comte’s words deceived his true intentions, he couldn’t comprehend how everything felt like the way it did in the past.

The pain felt fresh but what tore his heart apart was the agonizing disappointment.

“Care to explain ?” He said, ignoring the dark cloud of regret that struck thunders above him as he glued his eyes on Vlad’s.

“There’s not much to say when you can just see the things the way they are.”

Leonardo threw his head back as he let out a condescending laugh, letting his tongue wander on his bottom lip.

“Are you still hanging out with Shakespeare ? Where does this literacy come from ?”

“Depends on how you interpret ‘hanging out’.” Vlad lowered his gaze towards his hands with an unreadable smirk, the hands that earlier this encounter found their way up on playwright’s neck.

Comte distracted by the mysterious item that he held, ripped the envelope as the velvet paper revealed a flower with soft purple pedals stained with crimson blood.

The sharp scent got the honey tint of his eyes leaving it’s place to the darkness of his fully dilated pupils under the shock of realization.

The same scent belonged to none other than the new resident of his mansion.

Then the realization hit him, not faster than he hit the devil in disguise.

Vlad landed on his back as his heels dug on the fresh soil with the force of Comte’s blow.

“What did you do to them ?” He spat, the pressure of his clenched teeth visible upon his sharp jaw.

Not amused by his response, that consisted of silence and arrogance, Leonardo held him by his long locks and yanked his head back with the sole purpose of looking down on him.

“He asked you a question, didn’t he ?”

Vlad hissed at his gesture, nevertheless entertained by the burst of untamed hatred.

“I’ve heard.”

He let his eyes stray on his sharp features, a flash of remembrance struck him.

“I don’t think that you would be pleased to hear what I have to say.” His smirked widened, so did Comte’s eyes.

Running out of patience and will power, Comte rushed towards him to wipe the amusement out of his face.

Unbeknownst to him, Vlad was more than ready to wrap his hand around the slender wrist that was aiming to hit him square on the face.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves shall we ?” He muttered as he pulled Comte towards him with a strong grip.

Leonardo watched the scene unfold right in front of his eyes, taking a step forward only to back down afterwards. He decided that letting Comte get trashed would help him come to terms with his unsolved inner matters.

Unsolved matters, unanswered questions that constantly fed his break-point.

Comte struggled to get out of his grip. His nails dug into his flesh, the sweet pain drove his senses wild.

“Tomorrow at 12 a.m., sharp.” He said, placing his warm lips closer to Comte’s ear.

Vlad let his wrist free and stood up, for a short instant none of them seemed to move or speak.

There was a lot to talk about but their emotions lacked words, their questions lacked answers and their actions lacked sincerity.

Vlad turned his back against Comte and directed his gaze towards the bloody flower on the floor. Recalling his memento for one last time.

“Don’t make me wait” was his last command. Cold and ruthless, no sign of mercy or compassion.

Then the farewell of his footsteps followed.

Trust is as safe as a gun afterall.

It doesn’t kill unless it’s in the hands of those who know how to pull the trigger.

Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be tagged): @leonardoism @hotanekooo @ranhanabi777 @chaotic-coyote @thedollarstoresatan @justsomepersons @stardust-dreamer13 @nishtharya

Part 2 is coming

[otakween]

I'm Standing on a Million Lives - Volume 4

This volume covered the Jiffon Island arc. This quest is feeling a lot longer than the last one and the goal feels more obvious (defeat the orcs basically). I think it's because of that simplicity that I'm enjoying it a little more. I also like the "Jiffonian's" lol, even though they're just fantasy Japanese people which feels a little lazy.

Ch. 15

-I liked that they criticized the dude with the buster sword for being impractical instead of treating him like a badass. (It did end up working out for him anyway though).

-I felt bad for the orc queen when she lost her son :'(

-Honestly, the career system is a pretty clever way to keep things exciting. When they revealed that blacksmiths can make weapons for their party members I was kinda shook. (Maybe Hakozaki will be less useless now?)

Ch. 16

-This chapter was mostly blacksmithing and battle strategy with a little bit of ethics thrown in there for some added spice. I enjoyed the edutainment about forging vs. casting.

-Yusuke being called out for his eugenics-like ideas literally felt like twitter discourse lol. I don't recall every seeing eugenics brought up in anime or manga so I was a little taken aback.

-They're playing up Yusuke's misanthropic qualities a lot. He flat out says he doesn't prioritize having a social life and isn't interested in romancing anyone. I guess I rather that than the usual lecherous or wimpy anime MC, but he's still really unpleasant lol.

-The weapon Yusuke "invents" (the mega stake) was really derpy and I don't full understand how it would work. I'd also like to know how the heck he made a gun? Like how do you make gunpowder? Hopefully we get more detail in the next chapter.

-The other party members continue to be sidelined and not developed at all. I swear Yuka barely exists at this point.

Ch. 17

-This chapter was all action. Honestly? I think battles might be this author's strong suit. This was pretty well choreographed. Since they're fighting big, giant orcs, a lot of the fighting style reminded me of Attack on Titan, especially with all the back of the neck shots.

-Although it's a little cheesy when they try to make us mourn the side characters, it's better they give us some emotional deaths than just have everyone but the main characters be faceless fodder. It definitely helps it feel like there are real stakes here.

-They kept using "bullets" and "bolts" interchangeably which I think was a translation error...

-That cliff hanger tho...

Ch. 18

-This chapter was purely about natural disasters and disaster preparedness in Japan. It almost felt like a PSA. You can tell the author wanted to treat the fictional situation with the appropriate amount of gravity, which I can appreciate. Some of the stats in the author's note at the end were terrifying wtf...

-The callback to the vaikedaam's song was clever. I hope they actually sing in the anime...

-More "Yusuke's an emotionless badass" schtick. The other party members continue to basically not exist lol.

-We get a plot twist that some creepy bald dude was behind everything this whole time? Lol wut. I guess he's maybe working for the demon lord? IDK.

-They keep making Final Fantasy references: buster sword, Bahamut, etc. I wonder if those are still understandable to young people? (I mean, I guess the FFVII remake like just came out so -shrug-)

[larriefails]

It’s also astonishing to me to what lengths they go to make it seems Harry isn’t as successful as he is or as talented etc. they LOVE to put him down or ignore his achievements to be able to blame someone, anyone. They also ignore lots of positive articles or fan encounters re Harry, but post every tiny promo article about Louis. They also love to give Louis 355 benefit of a doubt and Harry sometimes even doesn’t get one. It’s veeeerg uneven, and no one cares and claims to love them both 😂 lol

I think Larries hate both Harry and Louis equally. They just hate Louis’ real persona more than they hate Harry’s, so that has a counter effect in which they excuse everything they don’t like about Louis. Does that make sense?

Larries aren’t fans of Louis. They don’t like who Louis really is. His son, his girlfriend, his personal style. They don’t like his choice of aesthetic or that he smokes. They don’t like that he’s a chav (self professed). They want this Louis

But THIS is Louis

(the week long discourse that picture got…)

And that Louis comes with a long time girlfriend and a child. And they don’t want any of that. But they can’t very well say they don’t like Louis because he’s the bane of their existence. So what do they do? They pretend the “real” Louis is just hidden beneath, and they see him. Only they really know him. All his friends are just hanger ons, he actually has a ton of industry friends but he can’t really say it (even though he has expressed that he’s not into that sort of thing). Louis has an immaculate sense of style he’s just not allowed to show it and is forced to live in athleisure. He knows being a chav isn’t flattering or nice, he just says it over and over because he’s forced to

And on and on and on. They can’t say that this is who he really is, that this is what he’s choosing to put out, because they don’t like it! So they have to fall back on: he doesn’t make ANY of his decisions. None of them. Ever

When it comes to Harry, I maintain that Larries aren’t fans of his either, but there are certain aspects of him that are more palatable for their tastes. Harry loves the color pink and he paints his nails and he likes long hair and he’ll wear women’s dresses and pose, and he’ll have the flashiest glitteriest suits and wear flowery sweaters and cuddle up to his friends. He embraces his feminine side (has even been vocal about it), doesn’t label his sexuality, and has a song about sleeping with men. All of that? Cool! That’s all GREAT for them, they embrace it, that’s the REAL Harry! Except, they don’t love every aspect. They don’t like that he’s attracted to women, that he’s dated some of them, that they’re around when he dates them, that he writes songs about them or even talks about them. Those things go to the “mistakes” column. They can’t just say that his entire persona is fake, though, because they like so many things. So they face a dilemma, everything he does that they like is him, everything he does that they don’t, is not him. Some of them can go on with this mindset without doubting for a second how ridiculous it is, but some others have more issues with it, so they tend to fault him for more things than their angel Louis who is just so helpless, he can’t even choose to wear ankle socks to show off his triangle tattoo. Also, Harry’s so very clearly friends with Jeff, and they can’t like Jeff because Jeff was supposed to take over the whole band and help Louis and fight Modest and Syco with a sword so Larry could come out of the closet behind him riding a big white horse. Jeff is evil, everything he does is wrong. He’s lazy. He’s the product of nepotism (insert several covert antisemitic stereotypes)

There’s such a gap between Harry and what they like about him and Louis and what they don’t like about him, that they virtually restore that order by ignoring or putting down Harry’s success and achievements. Louis has had to struggle in his artistic career, he comes from a completely different place than Harry and that’s fine. Louis accepts it, talks about it, he’s fine with it! He’s not moping in a corner. But Larries can’t cope because they perceive the relationship as imbalanced. They have to have equally bad teams, Louis and Harry. They’re in the same situation, remember? So Harry’s team gets bashing for the stupidest things like, him doing Grammy Museum. Remember? It’s too ambitious. That was a genuine piece of criticism they had. Harry doing the BBC special? Uh, you know, I feel like they’re rushing it, man, idk. Shouldn’t this go to a more senior artist? Harry getting Victoria’s Secret? Out of nowhere Larries absolutely hate it (despite the fact that they all watched Ed Sheeran and Ariana Grande doing it and loved it, but who cares about consistency?) Victoria’s Secret is so misogynistic and it promotes an unhealthy standard of beauty. Fair enough, then so do most fashion shows in the world, but you beg every year for Louis to attend London or New York Fashion Week and were drooling over pics of Zayn front row in Paris in 2015… Some of this is not adding up. You know what their problem with Victoria’s Secret was? 1 Women 2 In lingerie 3 around Harry 4 Harry’s exes specifically. “It’s gonna be a shitfest, the articles!!!! Someone think of the children!”

Nothing happened, of course. But the discourse was already fired. And like that? They’re with everything

[supersexystonersecretssavwlives]

I have more fucks to give but less I want to give them to. Like, show love and support spend days/weeks/months/years trying to make something better for people to enjoy and at the end you'll always have some asshole who just doesn't understand why you'd want to make something nice. There must be a hidden agenda, a secret motive, or an irrelevant skeletal structure dangling from a coat hanger! So you put it from your mind and move on to the next thing, and the thing after that making baby steps to a better world. But still that asshole is there slinging dirt, but now it's not just one asshole, it's a mob of assholes and it's not just ad hominem bullshit anymore but baited arguments trying to waste time drawing false equivalence and get bogged down in a labyrinthine knot of discourse. So you put them from your mind and keep moving to the next thing until there isn't anything you can do, which isn't the same as having nothing to do. It's just gotten out of hand because you had a finite number of fucks to give and the assholes where never even worth one.

[argumate]

I often find guillotine jokes amusing, especially in response to some slumlord adding another wing to his fifty bathroom mansion, but they kind of only work because they exist in a liminal space that has awkward discourse implications.

If you made a joke about murdering Jeff Bezos and the next morning the police came to your door to have a serious chat with you and you were placed on a watch list and your social media accounts were terminated and you lost your job or were kicked out of school then that would seem like a horrendous injustice, I mean it was just a joke! What happened to free speech! It wasn’t supposed to be taken seriously!

...or was it? I mean, was it? Do you actually want to kill the guy? And if you do, what do you expect him, and the rest of society, to do about it once you start proudly boasting about the fact on a public forum?

We know from recent experience that executing the rich is followed by executing other enemies of the people, sympathisers, hangers on, people of the wrong ethnicity, people who have a university education, and so on. If you’re calling for that, why wouldn’t you expect to be considered a threat to society?

Ultimately making guillotine jokes requires committing to the idea that you’re just having a laugh, and that edgy (ha!) humour is never grounds for official sanction, even humour that you don’t personally agree with, or it requires commitment to the idea of heightening the contradictions by forcing society to repress you, inviting the same response that you’d get in China if you publicly encouraged the slaughter of billionaires: a friendly visit, followed by a not-so-friendly visit if you did it again.

[artificialqueens]

It's not personal, it's fiction (2) (Biadore) - shadyqueenie

A/N: awwww baes, I’m sorry this took so long – but this chap is twice the first one and I really had struggles with some sentences :(((( also, I’m not that happy of how it came out but I needed to write it that way since I have plans for the next one ;)))

I don’t know when I will be able to update again – I hope it will be at the end of the month but ehy, it’s the MFW and guess who’s working as hell?! Btw, I really love you (: thank you for your support, I wasn’t expecting it! As I always say, please keep on writing me! Your duh, shady

In this episode (?) ~

“Do you want to come out?” He started off suddenly, nervous as hell. […] “Out?” “Outside! We need to celebrate my win!” “You know it’s forbidden… do you?”

IT’S NOT PERSONAL, IT’S FICTION

The first day of airing after their deal went as smoothly as honey. At least for Danny. For Roy it was pure hell. He felt nervous and quick-tempered – as if he was about to bite someone. Then there was the elimination day. That night he couldn’t sleep well. He wasn’t worried about the race – he was worried about him being around Adore. But he made a deal and he had to honor it. “What are you going to wear?” Asked Bianca to Adore while they were doing their make up. To be honest, she already saw it putted onto the clothes hanger – and she really hoped that wasn’t the real Adore’s choice. “The black one” replied the other one pointing it. …And here we are. “Are you sure? Do you remember what Michelle told you?” “Yeah but you will help me by cinching me and no one would look at anything else” Adore blinked at Bianca in a very flirting way “Will you?” Bianca sighed “Just hurry up and finish this bitch smoking eye you’re doing”. She forced a smile while trying to put a pair of false lashes in her eyes, but ended up so nervous she messed all up. “Fuck” Bianca breathed. Why couldn’t she act as natural as Adore? Courtney was sit next to them. She watched the whole scene without saying anything. It was strange for her seeing Bianca not throwing any shades at Adore. Ok, Bianca was always helpful, but that was strange – even for her. Courtney didn’t even realize Adore has finished her make-up and that Bianca had already cinched her until she heard clearly from Adore’s wardrobe “Do I have a hot body now?” And Bianca’s reply “Yeah sure, the hottest one”. Yeah, sure?! What was that? A sarcastic line that didn’t came out well? A sincere compliment? Courtney couldn’t tell – the only thing she was sure was that wasn’t so Bianca-alike. I’m super late and that’s because all this flirty bullshits she thought blending her cheekbones faster than she has never done before.

“Adore Delano, you’re the winner of this week challenge” As Bianca heard this words she clapped her hands, as etiquette required. Adore really made her laugh when she said that her dress was made for the judges to see through her body. She envied that attitude of hers, with those adorable (yes, adorable) jokes and flirty glances. Did she had to whisper ‘I’m so proud’ as Adore suggested days before? That could have been too much, and Bianca was a bit disappointed. She wanted to win, of course. I’m here to win, that’s what was in her mind as she looked at Adore smiling. Adore glanced back at her. She waited for Bianca to say ‘I’m so proud’ but nothing happened, and while reaching the backstage her smile died. The older queen seemed stressed all the day long, but while Bianca walked the runaway she still looked beautiful and flawless as she has always done. Adore needed to plan something in order to understand what was wrong – she hoped it wasn’t for their deal, and she had to know it before the next airing session.

Jay give him the perfect occasion. In the bus for their way back to the hotel he approached Danny and whispered “We have to celebrate, and I exactly know how” “Ganj please, I told you I don’t want to get stoned during the race” Danny didn’t even look at his friend. He was sure Jay was going to offer him some ‘fantastic weed a friend of a friend grows in his wardrobe’. “Girl, I was talking about going out tonight!” Even if he tried so hard to keep his voice volume low, he couldn’t really make it “I know how to escape from this prison” “Woah?! Really?!” As Danny heard ‘going out’ he suddenly felt excited. Twenty days closed in that hotel and now the only thing he really wanted was going out – without being eliminated from the challenge, of course. “Yes, please say we will. My room is the one next to Derienne’s and I swear if I heard her or any of those airheads laugh again I will put a gun in my head and pull the trigger” Jay took his hands in Dannys’, looking at him with puppy eyes. “Party!” Was the only thing Danny said, and Jay knew that was one of the 100 ways of Danny for saying yes, so he came back to his seat and giggled “at 10p.m. in front of the elevator, ok?” Danny nodded as he kept staring at the window – he caught Roy’s reflection and sighed. He wanted to invite him so bad. Something that meant “we’re not just two people that play together – we can be friends too, and friends go together in a club”. Hell, that’s exactly what he was going to tell him.

Hours later, Roy opened his door as someone knocked it. He was expecting it to be Benjamin – they had to join Shane and Greg for a drink. He was really surprised to see Danny instead. “Do you want to come out?” He started off suddenly, nervous as hell. During dinner Roy wouldn’t even gave him a second look, so all the discourse he prepared in the bus was a bunch of bullshits at that moment. “Out?” “Outside! We need to celebrate my win!” “You know it’s forbidden… do you?” “Yes I do. But being closed here is boring! So, so, so boring! Jay flirted with a concierge and he said he will let us use the back door. There’s a club, it’s not that far away and let’s be honest – none of the episode are already broadcasted, no one would recognize us out of drag” Danny put on the hood of his worn out hoodie. He tried to look funny and managed to get a smile out of him, but nothing happened. “Jay? Laganja? The one that makes you cry and furious?” Asked Roy ignoring most of the words Danny said. “When we’re not in the studios she’s still the same old chola I met years ago. Come on, Roy! We can have a drink and dance together” Danny tried to pull him closer, but Roy pushed him away as he shook his head. “I don’t get you. And no, I’m not coming. Shane invited me and others to have a drink at the hotel’s bar” Roy saw Danny’s smile disappearing from his face as he spoke “I thought you knew it.” The younger had nothing to reply. Of course the awesome Shane didn’t tell him anything. He has been speaking only with the older queens, the ones that were thought to be potential winners. Roy looked at the clock in the wall. In a moment Ben would be out of his room, which happened to be the one in front of Roy’s. He didn’t want him to see Danny in front of his room. Eventually, Danny spoke – and tried to be as natural as he could “No I didn’t, but… Hey! The hotel bar? I thought that was our place!” “And I thought you didn’t need to bitching in some unknown club” answered back Roy impatient. “You are jealous? If you ask, I’m not going to dance with anyone” Danny blinked “No, I’m just concerned” he crossed his arm. Please, please, please go. Danny sighed – how many time did Roy made him sigh that day?! “I will knock your door when I’ll come back” that was his last try. This was his night, he won the challenge and has every right to be treated as a queen. He wanted to celebrate and wanted Roy to be part of this moment of absolute joy – but he couldn’t force him. Not so much, at least. “Don’t bother” Roy didn’t wait for any replay, but closed his door as soon as he finished the sentence.

Later, Roy reached Shane, Greg and Ben. They talked about a lot oh things while drinking, but Roy was (as Shane noticed) extremely quiet. Too much for being him. Actually, Roy was thinking about how harsh he was with Danny. He didn’t deserve it. He was trying really hard to being friends with Roy – but he couldn’t help. He needed to stay focus on the race and nothing more. Especially, he didn’t want to give to the others something to gossip about. During the night he kept his profile low, laughing when needed and agreeing with everything has been said. Shane noticed it. Not that he was stalking Roy, but that attitude he kept having since yesterday seemed really strange. “Roy, are you fine? You didn’t say anything” eventually, Shane tried to do something. Maybe it wasn’t the right time, but he wanted to make sure that it wasn’t something serious. “Maybe he’s still burning about Adore’s victory” Greg suggested. “Guys, can you believe it?” Roy opened his mouth in a very fake shocked way “She basically won because I’m too kind for this race and cinched her!”. The others queen laughed. They kept on talking about the episode they just aired and, as Roy imagined, he found out that Greg was pretty a blabbermouth person. He had shades for every queen, and Roy shuddered at the thought of what he could have said about him. At 1a.m., the bartender asked politely the queens to leave “We are closing” he apologized before cleaning the tables.

“So sorry the night’s over…” said Ben in a whisper as they arrived in front of the elevator.   “Maybe not…” Shane answered back with a vicious smile, revealing he had a bottle of champagne hidden under his sweatshirt. “You Aussie bitch! Were did you took it?” “The bartender didn’t saw me so…” his laugh made the others doing the same. Roy felt a bit relieved. Those old chicks really helped him being a bit more cheerful and God, he really needed it. “Ok ladies, let’s go to my room” Roy proposed. It was kind of selfish of him, but he was sure that Danny would shown up at the end of his night of celebrations – and he didn’t want to be alone with him “and toast to these Aussies that stole our alcohol…” “…And the crown” Shane added, skipping in the hallway.

As soon as Greg and Ben decided it was time to go back to their rooms and exited Roy’s, Shane seized the opportunity “Ok, now you can tell me.” “Tell you what?” Roy looked at Shane puzzled. He noticed that during the evening Shane was suspicious towards him – as if he had done something strange. “What was today’s scene?” Ah, that’s the reason. “I thought that was the right thing to do, that’s all. I don’t really think of Adore as a competitor – I’m not scared of her, that’s why I cinched her” “You’re not scared by anyone” she sighed “But we both know I’m not talking about that scene. ‘Do I have a hot body now’?!” Shane tried to imitated Adore and Roy laughed, having to admit he was pretty good at it. But still, he had to play naïve “Shane, sorry, I still don’t get it.” “Well, I think we’re kind of…friends? So I can tell you.” The blonde set his glass down and looked at Roy right in the eyes “After episode five, I felt something different. Are you and Adore… a thing?” “What?!” Court shrugged “It was just a sensation” Roy was nervous. Bianca was a comedy queen, acting was something she should be used to. He thought that – to a certain extent – he should have gained enough self-confidence with Bianca’s help. In his out of drag life yes, he was sarcastic and harsh and all those kind of things – but at that moment he felt weak, extremely weak “You realized you’re basically asking me if I’m having an affair with Danny?” “Yes” “And not someone, but Danny. Who is fourteen years younger than me?” “He’s kind of hot for being in his early twenties…” “Bullshits” Roy was almost gasping. He felt nervous and attacked, and Shane could tell it. “Look Roy, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound judgmental or something like that. Let’s pretend I didn’t say anything, ok?” Roy collapse into his bed “Don’t.” He breathed deeply “As you said, at this point we’re kind of friends” and that was the moment he started telling him anything. About the meeting with the producer, the deal and so on. He was the one who told Danny not to tell anyone and now he was spit it out – after four days. Good job Roy, he thought drinking what was left on his glass. “The thing is,” he said eventually “I’m not the type of person who does those kind of things. That’s not me” Shane was wide mouthed. He was sure there was something between them… but a contract? That was insane “Then why did you accepted in first place?” curiosity captured him – he wanted to know everything. A part of him was almost jealous: there was obviously something between them that enchanted the producers. He wondered how it felt, having such a strong connection with someone without even knowing it. “I… I don’t know. Danny was talking about opportunities and so on…” And then Shane did something Roy wasn’t expecting at all. He laughed, he laughed so hard he cried “Bianca Del Rio fucked up by a teenager” he dried a tear “Roy” he became suddenly serious “No one pushes you. No one pushed you. If you don’t want to do that, then stop. I’m sure Danny will understand.” Roy was about to reply, but got interrupted by a knock on his door.

Danny and Jay didn’t drink that much. Just few drinks, offered by some random guys. But Danny couldn’t enjoy the night as he hoped for. His mind was elsewhere – did he offended Roy in any way? Nah. He advised Roy he was going to be flirty as hell, he should have expected it. Maybe he didn’t like him at all? Not even by chance? That could be the first time someone rejects his attentions and, for the record, it hurts pretty much. Danny excused himself from a guy he’s been dancing around all night. He was cute, tall and his skin was milky – but in the end he couldn’t care less about him. He should have stayed in the hotel, forcing Roy to talk and then trying to spend some time with him. That was what he was supposed to do – staying with someone with whom Danny shared an important part of this journey. That fucking granpa ruined everything. “I want to go home” said Danny as he found Jay again in the crowd. He realized it was almost 2a.m. and he wanted to see if Roy was still awake and ready to talk. “Why?” Asked Jay, back from the bar with a tray of shots “the bartender gives us this!” “You know, I’m tired and all this stuff… Can we please go home?” Asked Danny again. Jay knew that if he would have said no, Danny would still have going home – even without him “Let’s drink one or two of this shots and then we’ll come back home, ok girl?”

What were those shots made from? Danny couldn’t tell, the only thing he knew was that they were strong enough and suddenly he wasn’t sober anymore. He still wanted to see Roy, but he wasn’t sure it was going to be a good idea. Hell, he wasn’t even sure how many of them did he drink.  He stayed silent all the way back to the hotel partly because they were hiding from the hotel staff, partly because his mind was wandering. “Ew, that’s the bitch’s room” said harshly Jay when the walked next to Roy’s room Fuck off, I’m doing it. Danny reversed his steps and reached for the door. “What are you doing?!” “I told him I’ll inform him!” “You what?” Asked Jay surprised, but Danny didn’t respond since he had already knocked the door. Was he sleeping? He couldn’t tell whether Roy was going to open or not. He smiled, thinking of him half asleep and with a hideous pajama. That’s why Danny was surprised to see Roy in the same clothes he was wearing in the evening, and not in night clothes, and most of all… he wasn’t alone?  Was that Shane?! “Oh, I thought you were alone” were the only words Danny was able to say. He saw Roy’s expression becoming from happy to nervous in a heartbeat. “I told you we were going to have a drink” “In the hotel’s bar, not in your room” Danny pointed. Jay opened his eyes wide. Why was Danny acting like that? Why was he worried for that grandpa? “Queens! No worries, I’m going to my room. Jay, you should too” Shane stepped in between Roy and Danny, smiling.

Roy and Danny stared at each other in silence until they heard Shane’s door being closed. Danny, leaning in the arch of the door, breathed and then finally spoke “I should be the one you are inviting to your room” and pointed the ‘I’ as if it was a matter of fact. “Danny. First of all, it’s just a drink – and you missed Ben and Greg for just a second. Second, I don’t need to give you any explanation” “But I…” “Also, you were the one that went to the club.” Roy knew he sounded too way fatherly, but he couldn’t help. That was his way to compensate his irritability “With Laganja, “added “and you smell like alcohol, how much did you drink?” “Not that much, I’m not drunk” Danny stamped his feet in temper. Duh, by acting this way you’re basically proving Roy’s right. “Go to sleep Danny” for once, Roy sounded caring. He had no point in fighting with someone who pretended not to be (a little) drunk. Danny looked at him, biting his lower lip “Why didn’t you asked me to join you and the others?” “I…” in a moment, Roy thought of what Shane told him minutes before – all that shits about being sincere sounded good “I’m so uncomfortable Danny. I know I should take it easy, but I don’t. ‘Cause I have to pretend and that’s not me. I’ve always been honest, brutally honest. And I thought I could resist, chatting with you and stuff, but I have never felt so under pressure before. And I can’t stand why it seems so easy for you.” “You know we can stop whenever we won’t, don’t you?” He waited for Roy to nod and then continued “maybe for me it’s really easier. Maybe because I’ve always admired you and you look so fascinating to me. So maybe I have a childish crush on you – that’s why I don’t mind being around Bianca as I did in those days” he paused, breathing “was it too much?  Fuck, I didn’t mean to confess you” Roy looked at him. Danny’s cheeks were a bit redder than before. It’s not his fault – I’m the stupid one. “One of the best confession someone has ever done to me” he said playfully “Thank you. Not for the confession, I mean” “If you want to stop now, just tell me. I won’t mind, really.” Danny has never looked so serious and mature before – that’s what Roy thought as he was looking him right in the eyes. “No, let’s give our fake relationship another shot” he decided suddenly “if all else fails, we would have found a friend in each other. And here, in this race, I really need a real friend.” “Are we friends?!” Danny wondered how much did he drink. “Yes, I’d really like to.” Danny looked over the other guy’s shoulder. In the wooden table there still was the champagne, half full “Why don’t we toast to this friendship by finishing the bottle?” He proposed “Why do you always propose me to drink?” “Because I want you to get drunk and then take advantage of the situation” he joked, and a smile peeked on his face “Just kidding” “Don’t make me regret it and enter” “Wait. Is it kind of a date?” Roy laughed, letting Danny enter in his room.   Immediately Danny jumped in his bed “hey, at least put your shoes off” said falsely pissed Roy, giving him a glass. Actually he didn’t want him to stay in his bed, but he couldn’t complain about everything. For that day he has been grumpy enough. “Join me” replied nonchalantly Danny, patting the space next to him in the bed. Roy obeyed “Danny” he started after minutes of silence “I’m really sorry, for being a grumpy all those days” “For a moment I thought it was the actual you. I got scared” The older one felt more relaxed. He hadn’t sleep well in those days, but since the biggest cause of his stress was gone, he was dead tired. “No I’m… an ordinary person, I suppose. Nothing noteworthy” “Don’t be humble, it doesn’t suit you” Danny placed his head on Roy’s shoulder “shall we watch tv? Late night programs are the trashiest” Roy smiled “Ok, but just thirty minutes. I really need to sleep”

Thirty minutes passed, but Danny didn’t really want to leave. He felt comfortable next to Roy – even staying like this. He wasn’t the type of person that enjoyed silence, but in that moment he didn’t need to add a single word to that situation. Was it too much asking Roy to stay? He has been silent since they started watching tv. “I’m going to sleep here” he tried. He was ready for a harsh replay, but it didn’t come. Roy was already asleep. Danny placed a blanket over them and closed his eyes.

[winterisakillerwrites]

Get Better - Chapter Fourteen

Title: Get Better

Chapter: 14/18

Character: Tom Hiddleston/Cath Richardson (OFC)

Genre: Romance

Rating: Teen and up

Summary: Love. Companionship. Family. These are all of the things Tom Hiddleston desperately wanted. But his life and his choices left that a distant and unlikely prospect. So he did his best to move on and live his life as is. When an opportunity to return to the theater arises, he jumps at the chance and along the way finds that maybe, just maybe, those distant and unlikely prospects are closer than he could have imagined. Sequel to Brave Face.

Authors Notes/Warnings: So as I was writing Brave Face I knew that Tom’s story wasn’t over, even if that particular part of it was. And while I knew, more or less, what the overall ending to the story would be, its taken me a while to figure out the time in between.

Thanks to @redfoxwritesstuff​ for being an absolute godsend in regards to this story. I would truly be dead in the water without you.

Previous

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“You’re back.”

The words fell from Tom’s lips unbidden as he’d rounded the corner into the dressing room. He found Cath standing at her station, her back to the door and head thrown back, laughing at whatever story Zawe was sharing with her. Tom fought desperately to tamper down the rush of joy he’d felt at the sight of her. Tried to write it off as just the happiness of having his friend back. Nothing more, nothing less.

Liar!  

He shook the thought off and fought to keep his face as calm as possible. But from the quirk of Zawe’s brow, as her eyes met his, he knew he hadn’t been as successful as he’d hoped.

Bugger.

“Tom,” Cath exclaimed, whirling around towards the doorway, her hand clutched to her chest. Her green eyes were bright and she offered a soft, warm smile as Tom walked into the room and towards her. “Hi.”

“I trust everything is alright?” He queried as he made his way further into the dressing room, pausing before her station. He made sure to keep a respectable distance between them despite the fact all he wanted was to pull her into his arms. And it simply wasn’t something he could, or honestly should, do. “We missed you.”

Cath nodded, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “Everything’s fine. Just a small family matter.” She shrugged and carried on. “I hope Lorna’s taken good care of you lot.”

“That she did.” Lorna’s voice piped up from behind one of the curtains with a note of laughter in her tone. Tom let out a surprised laugh at the sudden intrusion. He liked Lorna, she wasn’t ever afraid to speak her mind. Or put him in his place. “As you well know, oh insulting one.” She poked her head out, rolling her eyes at Cath.

“Good,” Cath laughed back, shaking her head. Her eyes sparkled with amusement and Tom felt the all too familiar flutter in his stomach. Tom couldn’t fight the smile that spread across his face. It was wonderful seeing Cath so amused and content. She seemed so at home here. So in her element. He’d missed her far more than he could put into words. “Now,” she started, turning her attention back towards Tom and Zawe, “let’s get you both dressed and ready shall we?”

“Yes, boss!” both actors echoed as they quickly made their way towards the changing areas.    

Tom took his time folding his jeans and jumper after he’d changed, setting them carefully on the stool at the back of his curtained station. He didn’t dare look too closely at just why he felt so suddenly on edge. It was bad enough knowing he was far more transparent than he’d intended (if Zawe’s look was anything to go by). Looking further into the whys would only bring discourse he wasn’t prepared to deal with at the present moment.

Some actor you are, Thomas old boy. Can’t lie to save your bloody life.

“You alright in there, Hiddleston?”

Tom jumped at the sound of Lorna’s voice from just beyond the curtain. He took a slow, deep breath to calm the rapid pounding of his heart.

“Yes. Yes, I’m fine.” He called, running a hand through his hair.

He turned to look once more into the standing mirror and straightened his suit jacket. Taking a deep breath he pushed the curtain aside and headed back into the main room. He could do this.

                                                        —

“Glad to see there were no mishaps tonight,” Cath laughed softly as she leaned over to wipe the last of Tom’s makeup from his face. He found himself staring at the point of her pink tongue, sticking out just the smallest of margins between her lips as she concentrated. He was taken aback, once again, but just how striking she was doing something so utterly mundane.

“It was a close call,” he started with a chuckle, letting Cath lift his chin with her small, warm hand to reach the base of his throat. He was grateful for the movement which forced him to break his focus on her mouth, though the feel of her skin against his was maddening. “Very nearly dropped a glass or two during the second scene. That would have been a treat.”

Cath chuckled, “Nothing like trying to avoid shards of glass. I’m sure Zawe’s feet thank you for not actually doing so.”

“That they do,” Zawe called from the next station. She held up said feet, wiggling her toes in Cath and Tom’s direction. Tom swatted at Zawe’s feet while Cath laughed and shook her head. “Fine, fine. Spoil sport.”

“Alright, Tom. That’s you done.” Cath turned to toss the used wipe into the rubbish bin by her feet. He didn’t immediately climb to his feet, instead sat for a moment trying to gather his thoughts. She was so close, he could feel the heat of her against his side. It shouldn’t matter, she was his friend; that was all. He’d made certain of it. But knowing it and forcing himself to accept it where two completely different things.

“Tom?”

He shook himself, immediately bounding to his feet. “Sorry, lost myself for a moment there.” He rocked awkwardly on the balls of his feet for a moment before mumbling, “I’ll just…Go change,” and hurrying towards the curtained changing area.

Once he was safely absconded behind the curtain, Tom lowered himself onto the stool in its corner (once he’d moved his street clothes to the floor) and cursed at himself. Seriously, what was wrong with him? What happened to his ability to play it calm, cool, and collected? He did this sort of thing for a living, surely some of it had to rub off eventually. Wouldn’t it?

Tom took several deep breaths, his head cradled in his hands. He needed to pull himself together before he went off and did something stupid. Again. That was a course of action he could ill afford, with things as shaky between them as they were. With determination, Tom pushed himself back to his feet. He slid the jacket of his suit off his shoulders and carefully onto its waiting hanger. Jumper, shoes, and trousers were next. He slipped quickly back into his street clothing and with one last glance around the room to make sure his suit and accessories were properly sorted (it was a habit he didn’t bother trying to break) he headed back out into the main dressing room.

Charlie was paused at the dressing room door, chatting quietly with Zawe as she ran a quick comb through her hair. He glanced up at Tom and smiled, “Ready?”

Tom nodded, “As I’ll ever be.” He ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. “Shall we?”

Smiling the three headed down the staircase, through the hallway and out onto the street to meet with the evenings’ stage door crowd. Tom smiled and laughed as he talked with fans, posing for pictures when asked, signing programs and various other items handed him (within reason) and doing his utmost best to make each encounter as open and genuine as he could. While stage door wasn’t a requirement, he knew how important it was for fans and (within reason) he wanted to give what he could to show his appreciation.

And for the most part, the fans were lovely; giddy and excited as they spoke with him (and with Charlie and Zawe as the moved down the ordered line). There were the few odd encounters, those who wanted more than the usual small talk/photo/signature, but nothing that raised any flags with him or with his security. He still had trouble wrapping his head around the need for them, but several bizarre encounters had made their need clear. So they remained.

He turned his attention to the next fan who approached the barricade, flashing a warm smile. “Hello, darling, what’s your name?”

                                                       −

Tom smiled and waved as he headed back into the theatre, doing his best to ignore the groans of disappointment from those still left waiting. A part of him wanted to stay longer and sign all he could (and in years past he would have) but he’d learned well over the last few years just how important limits were, for others and for himself. Once inside the theatre, he climbed the stairs two at a time, suddenly desperate for the comfort of his own home.

The lights were still on in the dressing room and as he rounded the corner he found Cath and Lorna still inside. Zawe was there as well, settled onto the small cushioned chair a few feet from the door. All three of their backs were towards the doorway, purses piled on the chair at Lorna’s station, and they talked as they completed the final bits and bobs of the nights’ straightening.

“I mean it, Lorn,” Cath breathed, hands on her hips. “I don’t want to make a big deal of it. Seriously.”

“But it’s your birthday!” Zawe cut in, disbelief clear in her tone, “We can’t just not do something.”

“It’s your birthday?” Tom asked without thinking. All three women spun towards the doorway to face him. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.” He grinned sheepishly at the women standing before him. He hadn’t intended to eavesdrop (let alone get himself caught at it).

“Nosey git,” Zawe teased, flashing him a cheeky grin. “You just have to be in on everything, don’t you?”

Tom chuckled shrugging and running a hand through his hair. “It’s a terrible habit, drove my mother and sisters mad as we were growing up.”

“I can only imagine,” Cath added, laughing and shaking her head. “And it’s not my birthday yet. Next week Saturday, actually.” She paused and let out a soft sigh. “These two seem adamant about making a huge deal of it.” She narrowed her eyes at Lorna and Zawe, who smiled brightly back at her.

“Well then,” Tom started, clasping his hands together before him. “Happy early birthday.”

She smiled warmly at him. “Thank you.”

“Is there any reason why you are so against celebrating?” Tom was most likely pushing his luck, he knew it, but his innate curiosity wouldn’t let him leave the matter alone.

Cath dropped herself onto the chair at her own station, and folded her hands in her lap. “I just don’t see the point. I’ve done the big party thing and it’s honestly not me.” She shrugged. “I would much rather be sat at home with a film and a glass or so of wine. No fuss needed.”

Tom nodded. “My elder sister’s the same way.”

Cath laughed. “Smart woman.”

“She has her moments,” Tom joked. He unconsciously reached his hand up to rub the side of his neck. “Well, I just wanted to say good night.” He smiled softly at Cath and turned to nod at Zawe and Lorna. “I’ll see you lot tomorrow. Be safe getting home.”

He turned quietly towards the doorway and a chorus of “good nights” followed him out of the dressing room.

As he jogged down the stairs he found himself thinking over the conversation they’d had; grateful for another piece of the puzzle that was Cath. She had burrowed her way into his life in a way he hadn’t allowed in so long. She deserved something for that. Something to show her, despite all of his fuck ups and his faults, that he valued her friendship and her warmth.

He nodded at the guard at the door, pausing to wish him a good night as well, and followed his driver back out into the cool early May evening.

                                                     —

Tom let his eyes fall to the wrapped gift sitting on his side table. It had taken nearly two days, and more shops than he’d care to admit, before he’d found it. He’d been so focused on finding the exact right ‘something’ (he refused to let himself think on just why that mattered so dearly to him) that’d he’d very nearly missed it. The battered, leather bound book had been half buried in a pile of heavily read paperbacks in the charity shop not far off the main road in Notting Hill. He’d moved the pile at least twice before he’d spotted it. And even when he had, he’d very nearly overlooked just what it was.

Cath had talked about it just once. They had discussed books they’d loved as children during the first few days of the play’s run in their bid to get to know one another. Hers had been a battered copy of The Tale of Peter Rabbit which her grandmother had given her when she was a small child. The book had belonged her to grandmother (she’d had it since she was a little girl herself) and had definitely seen better days; the binding was loose, the cover page torn in several places, and there was an odd stain that no one seemed to be able to account for. But she had fond memories of both her grandmother and mother reading the story to her. It had been lost in a move when she was in her late teens and while she could easily find a more modern edition (and initially had done so) she had always hoped to find that particular edition once more.

Tom had no idea if the book he’d found was in fact the right edition, but had purchased it without a moments’ hesitation. How could he not, finding it like he had? When he’d opened the book once he’d gotten home, he’d been startled to find it was a first edition; certainly not in the best repair but a hasty Google search had found it was worth much, much more than the paltry £1.50 he’d paid for it. Pure insanity. He certainly wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

He’d spent far longer than he should have making sure the book was wrapped as neatly as he possibly could. He’d thankfully had wrapping paper that was not Christmas themed (Emma and his mother had gifted him several rolls of Christmas themed paper a few years back and he’d slowly been working through the backlog since) hidden in the back of his closet. Plain though it was, it was infinitely better than anything brightly colored and covered in reindeer or Christmas baubles. While he didn’t think Cath would have turned her nose up at seasonally incorrect paper, Tom wanted everything to be perfect.

Now all that was left to do was wait. And he’d never been brilliant at waiting. Yes, he certainly could when the time called for it (and he’d had great practice at it over the years). But this…This was different. Waiting was excruciating. All he wanted was to see her face when she tore open the paper and found what was waiting inside. Tom wanted nothing more than to see the joy spreading across her features, her eyes lighting up as she realized what she’d received. It wasn’t the same book, no, but it was as close as he could come.

Bobby barked twice, breaking Tom from his meandering thoughts. He glanced down to find the spaniel looking up at him with impatient eyes. Tom had been up and about for almost two hours now and while he’d fed Bobby and let him out back to relieve himself, they’d yet to go on their customary run. And that clearly wouldn’t do.

Tom let out a soft sigh. “Alright, give me five minutes and we’ll head out.”

Bobby barked once more and scampered off towards the front door. Tom shook his head and made his way upstairs to change. Bobby was still at the door, waiting with a wagging tail when he jogged down the stairs several minutes later. He barked twice as Tom hooked him into his leash and harness, vibrating with eagerness. He grabbed his phone and wallet from the side table, shoving them into the pockets of his running shorts.

“You, my lad, are a menace.”

The spaniel rapidly wagged his tail in response before barking once more. Shaking his head, Tom pushed open the front door and led them both out into the bright sun of the early May morning.

                                                     —

Cath chuckled and shook her head as Lorna proudly paraded into the dressing room cupcake in hand (with a flickering lone candle), singing ‘Happy Birthday’ at the top of her voice. Zawe, who’d stopped by the theatre early that afternoon, joined in clapping her hands and laughing as Lorna placed the impromptu cake before Cath at her station.

“I hate you both, just so you know,” Cath threatened, laughing as she blew out the candle.

“Worth it,” Lorna shot back, pulling Cath into a tight hug. “Happy birthday, babes.”

Cath returned the hug with enthusiasm. It had been a busy day thus far. Her mother had woken her far too early with her customary birthday call. That call was followed in short order by calls and texts from her siblings wishing her the same. She’d treated herself to a large latte and sweet treat on her way to the theatre (honestly how was she supposed to resist the gooey cinnamon buns they’d had at the counter? It was her birthday after all).

Cath eyed the cupcake with longing. It was a white iced monstrosity that looked as though you’d gain a stone just by breathing it in; she couldn’t wait to see how it tasted. “You really shouldn’t have though.”

“Like that’s ever stopped me,” Lorna snorted. She pulled out an envelope from behind her back and presented it with a bright smile. “Yes, I know I didn’t need to. I did it anyway. So take the card and deal.”

Grumbling, Cath reached out and took the envelope, tearing it open with a practiced ease. She smiled at the cutesy card Lorna had chosen. Finding the most ridiculous card had become a tradition between them and this time Cath had to admit Lorna had certainly come through. Nestled inside the card was a gift certificate for one of Cath’s favorite coffee shops. She laughed aloud. “You are only feeding my addiction, you know this right?”

“What else are friends for?”

A flash of movement beside her tore Cath’s attention from Lorna. She turned just in time to see Zawe pop a finger covered in frosting into her mouth.

“What?” Zawe started, with a smirk. “I washed my hands.”

Cath stared at her in disbelief. After a moment she grabbed the cupcake, slid it closer, and covered it with a napkin. She narrowed her eyes slightly. “Try that again and talent or not, I will end you.”

Zawe clasped her hands to her heart. “Aw, Cath, I didn’t know you cared.”

“It’s cute you think I’m kidding.”

Zawe just grinned back and pushed herself up from her chair. “Anyone fancy a coffee?”

“Actually Zawe that would be wonderful.” Tom’s voice echoed from the doorway.

The three women jumped and turned towards the doorway in unison. They looked at Tom and then at each other, bursting out in nervous laughter at their ridiculousness.

“Who says I was offering for you, Hiddleston?” Zawe quipped, recovering first. She crossed her arms over her chest in an attempt to look stern. An attempt ruined by the smile that threatened to spread across her face.

Tom laughed, his head falling back. “You did leave it rather open,” he pointed out once he’d recovered, his shoulders still shaking slightly.

“For that, my dear man, you can get your own coffee.” Zawe turned back to face Cath and Lorna. “Any takers?” She grabbed her purse from Lorna’s station top and headed towards the door.

Cath laughed, shaking her head, “I’m good.” She was still vibrating from the latte she’d had earlier. Maybe those four shots of espresso were a mistake.

“I’m game! I’ll have a large mocha latte, please,” Lorna called. She paused momentarily before adding, “With extra chocolate and whipped cream.”

“And I’ll have a double espresso!” Tom called to her retreating form. Zawe flipped him off as she jogged down the stairs.

Cath sighed and shook her head before turning her attention towards Tom. “Like you possibly need more caffeine.”

Tom grinned at her. “I didn’t say I needed it. I fully acknowledge my caffeine over indulgence.”

“Well,” Lorna chimed in looking back and forth between Tom and Cath. “They say acknowledgement of a problem is the first step.” Cath saw the knowing look in her friend’s eye and hoped to god for once Lorna would hold her tongue. This was not what she needed today. Not on her birthday.

Tom chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Lorna let out a snort. “Please do.”

Wanting to stop the conversation from venturing down roads she absolutely did not want taken, Cath clapped her hands together. “You’re early today, Tom.” A flash of movement near his feet caught her attention. She looked back up at Tom and smiled. “And you’ve brought company.”

Bobby barked once, tailing wagging ferociously as he tugged at his leash. Cath laughed and dropped to her knees. Bobby barked excitedly and charged towards her. Tom had brought the spaniel to the theatre off and on during the run, mostly on double performance days. Cath had enjoyed the dog’s company, having unofficially become his minder when Tom was on stage. And Bobby had taken to her as well.

She’d had a dog growing up, a black lab they’d called Shadow. He’d been an energetic, friendly animal whom she loved fiercely. It had broken her heart when they’d had to put him down (he’d had what the vet thought had been a stroke and had lost a good deal of function). Bobby reminded her a lot of when Shadow has been younger (though she admitted with a rueful laugh Bobby was three times the trouble maker Shadow ever was) and she enjoyed the simple joy of doggy companionship without the hassles of actual ownership.

Bobby licked her face eagerly, clearly thrilled to see his new favorite playmate. She laughed at the spaniel’s eagerness and Tom’s admonishment. “Bobby, sit!”

The spaniel paid him little mind and Cath could hear his groan of annoyance. “It’s not my fault he likes me best,” she teased, pulling back enough to look up at Tom with a bold grin.

She couldn’t quite read the emotion that sparked through Tom’s eyes. Didn’t dare let herself think too much on it. Going down that road when he’d been clear it wasn’t what he’d wanted. Or at least wasn’t worth it to him to try. It was gone in a moment though, his smile bright. “He’s a sucker for attention.”

Cath flashed him a cheeky grin. “Well they do say dogs resemble their owners…”

Lorna snorted, covering her mouth with her left hand. “Oh Tom, you’ve walked right into that one.”

“Ha ha,” Tom deadpanned, shaking his head pointedly ignoring Lorna who only laughed harder. He turned his attention back onto Cath who was chuckling away while scratching behind Bobby’s ears. “And to think I was about to wish a certain someone a happy birthday.”

“Aww, Tom, no need to be a grumpy Gus just because you’ve been called out,” Lorna laughed, settling back into her own chair.

“Don’t you have costumes to check or something?”

Lorna clasped a hand over her heart. “I’m hurt, Tom. Truly hurt.”

“Somehow I think you’ll recover,” Cath joked. She gave Bobby one last scratch behind the ears and pushed herself back to her feet.

“Et tu Brute?” Lorna turned towards Cath, eyes comically wide. Cath merely smiled and shrugged. “So ungrateful,” Lorna huffed with a hint of a smirk on her lips causing Cath to laugh despite herself. “I can see when I’m not wanted.” She pushed herself up from the chair and to her feet. Taking one last look around the room, Lorna let out an exaggerated sigh and headed for the doorway.

Tom chuckled and shook his head. “Flair for the dramatic that one.”

Cath quirked an eyebrow, “You’re one to talk, Hiddleston.”

He simply shrugged and let his backpack slide off the shoulder he’d rested it on. He placed the bag on Lorna’s station top, unzipping it without ceremony. From the bag he produced Bobby’s dog bed, a fair bit squished in the journey and a plainly, but neatly, wrapped parcel.

Cath eyed the parcel with a keen interest. She hadn’t wanted to get ahead of herself or to assume, but she couldn’t shake the niggling feeling that it was for her. He’d clearly taken his time wrapping the thing, whatever it was. The paper folded nearly onto itself, edges defined and taped with precision. She watched the way he handled the package with the utmost care.

In the end curiosity won the battle over propriety and Cath found herself asking, “Whatca got there?” Her eyes darted from his face to the parcel in his hands and back as she awaited his answer.

Tom paused, the parcel still clutched tightly in his hands before raising his eyes towards hers and offering a soft smile. He took a deep breath and without ceremony extended his arm and the parcel towards Cath. “Happy birthday.”

“I…”Cath started, taking the parcel from his hands unable to fight the involuntary smile spreading across her face. “Tom, thank you. You honestly didn’t have to…”

“Nonsense,” he chimed back. “I found it and it made me think of you. It’s your birthday and you deserve it.”

She blinked back at him. “Thank you.” She placed the parcel on the edge of her station and without letting herself overthink the action, pulled him into a brief embrace. Her action startled him, it was clear in the way he tensed before relaxing and wrapping his own arms around her. Cath knew she was pushing the invisible lines that had been drawn between them, knew she could so easily tip the scales in a way that would only cause them both distress, but she couldn’t stop it had she tried.

“You’re welcome,” he breathed into her hair.

His heart thumped against her ear as she remained pressed against his chest and she found herself reluctant to want to pull away. Cath knew she needed to, knew letting herself remain in his arms was not smart nor particularly good for her sense of wellbeing. But he was warm and comforting and she wanted to believe just for this one moment in time things were different. That they were different. It was stupid and selfish but knowing that did little to cease the wanting. The yearning.

With great reluctance she made herself be the first to pull away. She could sense the hesitation in his embrace before he let her go. She couldn’t look him in the eye, knowing she’d crossed the line that he’d drawn and she hadn’t protested. Cath cleared her throat and turned her attention back to the parcel on her station top. She tore the paper with great care, more than she usually reserved for gifts, wanting to respect the effort he’d clearly put into the project.

Confusion then disbelief spread slowly across her features as she found the book nestled in folded sheets of tissue paper. She blinked back tears as she looked up at him, words escaping her. Her mind flashed to the afternoon, months ago now, when they’d talked about stories and books they’ve loved. How she mentioned, in passing, her grandmother’s copy of The Tale of Peter Rabbit and how heartbroken she’d been when it was lost. A conversation that lasted no more than five minutes. How had he possibly remembered?

“How…?”

Tom smiled warmly. “I found it in a charity shop and I knew you would love it. I don’t know if it’s the same edition or even close, but I just…I had to.”

Cath launched herself at Tom, not caring that doing so was the height of impropriety. They both stumbled backwards, nearly tipping over before Tom had been able to right them. She buried her face in his chest, torn between laughter and tears. He’d given her something truly priceless and she didn’t think she could find the words to express just what this meant to her. “Thank you, thank you, thank you..,” she murmured over and over again into his chest.

She felt the rumble of his soft laughter against her cheek. “You’re more than welcome.”

He ran his hands up and down her back, his touch no doubt meant to be soothing. It sent shivers down her spine and she bit back a groan. He was such a tactile person, seemingly had always been that way. And she loved and hated that about him. Loved the way his hands felt on her, even in the most platonic of touches. And hated the way she knew his touches were meant to be just that. Platonic. Safe. Friendly. He was that way with everyone. And once again she selfishly wanted once, just once for him to touch her because he wanted to. Because it was her warmth and affection he sought with his own.

Cath banished the thought away. If wishes were horses…She raised her face to his and offered a watery smile. “I…Thank you. So much.”

Tom returned her smile but didn’t say anything else. They stood, staring at one another, neither speaking. Cath shivered as she felt Tom’s thumb brush her cheek, wiping away the tears that remained there. His touch was warm, the skin of his fingers softer than she’d expected. There was a flash of something in his eyes she couldn’t place. She licked her suddenly parched lips and watched in dazed wonder as his eyes flicked from hers to her lips and back.

And just like that night they both seemed to move without conscious thought. Cath could feel the warmth of his breath against her slightly parted lips. So close. He was so close…

Bobby’s sharp bark erupted through the silence of the room. They both leapt backwards in stunned startlement. Cath could feel her heart pounding in her throat. Laughter echoed from the hallway. She whipped her head towards the door in time to see Lorna making her way back into the dressing room, Zawe beside her a cardboard container with three takeaway coffee cups. Both women paused halfway into the room their eyes darting between Cath and Tom. Cath felt her cheeks flush and she fought to suppress the traitorous reaction of her body.

Lorna smiled coyly. “Are we interrupting?”

Next

[shannaraisles]

Set In Darkness

Chapter: 60 Author name: ShannaraIsles Rating: M Warnings: None Summary: She’s a Modern Girl in Thedas, but it isn’t what she wanted. There’s a scary dose of reality as soon as she arrives. It isn’t her story. People get hurt here; people die here, and there’s no option to reload if you make a bad decision. So what’s stopping her from plunging head first into the Void at the drop of a hat?

A Split Second Decision

Orlesians, it seemed, were hopeless romantics. Despite the plethora of less than complimentary comments Rory had overheard in the last few hours, suddenly the lords and ladies of the court were falling over themselves to be sweet and pleasant to her. She had a feeling that change of tune had everything to do with the fact that Cullen had claimed her from Granthis at the end of their dance, and had yet to let go, his arm wrapped about her back as they faced his gaggle of breathless hangers-on.

"Madame Rutherford, you are a vision," one of the barons was saying to her. His attempt to sidle closer a moment ago had resulted in Cullen's hand tightening on her hip, a subtle sign that overtures of more than friendship were not going to be accepted with grace. "Such confidence to throw off the dictates of fashion. My wife has been admiring your gown all evening."

"Indeed, madame, it is a beautiful creation," the baron's wife added. She was on the other side of Cullen, and all hands in the commander's own words. "Who created for you? I do hope she kept the design."

Rory tried not to laugh at this sudden interest in her. She'd known Cullen was very popular among the Orlesian nobility, but she genuinely hadn't expected him to use her as a sort of human shield at the first opportunity. Since he'd pulled her to his accustomed corner of the ballroom, he hadn't had to say a word - his admirers were focusing on her in some strange attempt to win his favor by being pleasant to his wife.

"Madame De Fer's preferred seamstress, Madame Francoise, made this gown," she told the baroness with a smile that was only just short of being a grin. She could play at being a vacuous primp for a while. "Her technique is just divine, my lady, and so comfortable! Why, I even have pockets for my precious things!"

She felt Cullen swallow down the urge to snort with laughter, the familiar tension in his chest rumbling against her arm as he watched the little group suddenly separate into fascinated women, and bored men. None of the lords had a hope of following the conversation now taking place, as Rory did her best to praise Francoise to the skies while sounding as empty-headed as possible. With the Orlesian ladies sighing excitedly, discussing their own hopes to commission Francoise for their next events, he leaned down to murmur against her ear.

"Laying it on a little thick, aren't you?"

She tilted her head back, meeting his gaze from behind her mask with innocent mischief. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she informed her husband sweetly, watching as he manfully forced himself not to smile openly at her playful devilry. "Should I invite the gentlemen back to fondle your spectacular backside again?"

Cullen blanched, his eyes going wide for a brief moment. "How did you know ... Never mind." He shook his head, glancing at their small horde of admirers. "Act faint," he murmured against her ear, both of them knowing that it looked to those around them as though he was whispering sweet nothings to her.

The order might have been a surprise, but how else could they have a reasonable conversation in this ridiculous place? Privacy was hard to come by in the Imperial Court. Rory wasn't entirely certain she could sell faintness, but she gave it a good go, letting her knees buckle a little as her hand groped for his.

"Madame!" A marquis on the outskirts of the group was the first to notice, pushing forward to take her hand as Cullen schooled his expression into one of concern, his arm wrapping about her waist to ostensibly hold her up. "Are you unwell?"

She shook her head, offering a brave little smile for his concern. "A little faint," she told the nobleman. "It seems very warm in here."

"Perhaps some fresh air will help," Cullen announced, more for the benefit of their admirers than anything else. "Come out onto the balcony a while. Thank you, my lord. Do excuse us."

With skillful charm, he managed to detach his wife from the worried marquis' grip and usher her out onto the nearest balcony, breathing a sigh of relief when no one tried to follow. Rory tried not to laugh at the instant relief on his face.

"Maker's breath, they won't leave me alone," he complained impatiently. "Congratulations on our marriage combined with snide suggestions that an Orlesian mistress would suit me better than a Ferelden wife. Male or female."

"Not tempted, then?" she teased, earning herself a dark look from her husband.

"You are more than temptation enough for me, sweeting," he informed her in a firm tone, turning his body to hide the gentle touch of his hand to the little swell of their child, hidden beneath her flouncing skirts. "You seem to have them wrapped about your finger well enough. Have you heard anything of note?"

Rory shook her head. "Nothing but gossip regarding themselves," she admitted. "I've passed most of it on to Leliana; she seems to think she can make use of it. They're very derogatory about Kaaras. It's difficult not to leap to his defense, but everyone here thinks I don't speak Orlesian."

"Which was the point of the exercise," he agreed reluctantly. "I have tried to change their minds about him, but their fixation on ... well, my personal preferences ... does not allow for much in the way of political discourse."

She bit her lip, utterly failing to hide her smile. "You're not enjoying all the attention, love?"

He snorted derisively. "Hardly." Leaning beside her against the stone balustrade, he let his lips brush her ear, his tone lowering to something far less than appropriate for such a public place. "Yours is the only attention worth having."

She shivered at the promise in his tone, her fingers curling into his hand to grip tightly as his unspoken desire brought a bloom of heat to her cheeks. The inner fangirl was squealing again, absolutely delighted by a piece of game dialogue recreated with all new nuances just for her.

"You are so beautiful," Cullen whispered to her, the fingertips of his free hand tracing over her shoulder, along the dipped neckline of her gown. "A wildflower among roses. I have never felt more privileged than when you entered the ballroom and heads turned to admire you, knowing you are mine."

"Cullen," she breathed, uncertain if she was pleading for him to stop or to go on.

Those who glanced their way from the ballroom would see only the commander and his wife, standing side by side, speaking quietly together in the fresher night air. They couldn't hear the low longing in his voice as he caressed her senses with words alone; couldn't feel the way she thrilled to the possessive craving in the tangle of his fingers about her own, the heady darkening of whiskey-warm eyes that wanted to see her melt at his command. He wouldn't kiss her, not where these puffed-up idiots could see and take it for their own entertainment, but he could tease her with soft promises of the night to come, when their business here was over and they were free to return to Val Royeaux.

The sound of a throat quietly clearing behind them drew them apart to turn, finding Blackwall standing awkwardly in the doorway to the ballroom, trying to look as though he wasn't interrupting what he knew was a private moment.

"What is it?" Cullen asked, the longing, the promise, gone from his voice in an instant. How does he do that?

Blackwall let his dark eyes touch them regretfully. "Solas is asking for a healer's help," he said quietly, moving to join them so he would not be overheard. "Dorian's wrist needs setting before he can heal it."

"There was fighting in the servants' wing?" Cullen asked, releasing Rory as she turned toward the false Warden.

"Aye, but we came through it," the bearded man nodded. "Kaaras is dancing with the Grand Duchess. Think Leliana might want you, commander."

"Of course." Cullen nodded, glancing down at his wife briefly. Things seemed to be coming to a head. He drew her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles gently. "Bring her back to the ballroom when she's done," he told Blackwall firmly. "We'll want you all there in case of ... incident."

"Right you are." Blackwall nodded in agreement, offering Rory his arm. His courtly manners were still very good, despite several years spent in the wilds, but the tension in him was palpable. He was skirting a dangerous line just being here, and he knew it. "This way, mistress."

With a last look to Cullen, Rory took the offered arm, forcing herself to wipe the concern from her face as Blackwall escorted her through the ballroom to the great doors that opened into the vestibule. Despite the mask she wore, she knew the people here could likely read her expression with the ease of years of practice. She wanted them to think that Cullen had handed his wife to a trusted friend to seek refreshment, while he returned to his place in the ballroom; she wasn't sure if she had succeeded. A brief glance to the dance-floor revealed that Kaaras was, indeed, dancing with Florianne du Chalons - the evening was definitely accelerating toward its final conclusion. But what that conclusion would be, Rory still could not guess. Celene and Gaspard were both awful options, and Briala was working for her own gain, but somehow, at least one of them had to come out on top tonight. She did not envy her Qunari friend that decision.

Dorian was hidden away in the library, pale as he cradled his broken wrist, sipping an elfroot potion to numb the pain while Solas waited patiently beside him.

"Ah, there you are," he managed in a tight tone. "A prettier healer I never did see."

"Did you have another argument with a door, Dorian?" Rory asked, kneeling down in front of him to gently inspect the state of his wrist.

"Sadly, no," he informed her, cheerful despite his injury. "A Venatori thug objected to my outfit rather violently, as it happens."

"Well, the cutting edge of fashion is rather brutal," she agreed, turning his hand as gently as she could. "This is going to be incredibly painful."

"You know, just once it would be nice if you could lie through your teeth about the pain aspect," the altus complained, gritting his teeth already.

"Are you ready, Solas?" she asked, tilting her head up to the elven apostate. She found it a little strange that none of the group had tried to set this wrist themselves, but then maybe they'd leapt at the chance to get her out from under the nobles' eyes for a few minutes. It would be nice to think that was the case, but it was more likely that no one wanted the responsibility of resetting the bone in case it went wrong.

Solas nodded silently, raising his hand over the injured arm, prepared to pour that healing magic into Dorian's limb the moment the bone was set. "On your mark, healer."

"All right, then." She turned her attention back to the wrist. "Dorian, what's the Tevinter word for sexy?"

"The ... why in Andraste's name would you want to know tha - vishante kaffas!"

He threw back his head with a strangled groan of blinding agony as she used his confusion to tug the bones back into position. A moment later, Solas was done, and all that remained was the lingering memory of that pain. Dorian scowled at her, flexing his newly healed wrist.

"If I had the energy, I might hate you for that," he told her, nodding gratefully to Solas as the other mage stepped away. "You could have done that a little differently."

"You have a bad habit of tensing up," she informed her friend, taking Blackwall's hand to rise to her feet. "It makes my job harder. Up you get; Cullen wants everyone in the ballroom for the foreseeable."

Together, the three of them made their way back to the ballroom, an interesting enough trio to draw the attention of the curious nobles away from Kaaras disappearing once again with Varric, Cassandra, and Solas. Cullen was nowhere to be seen, but Rory knew what was happening now - the Inquisitor was walking into a trap, and Cullen was giving the order for his soldiers to infiltrate the Winter Palace. A quick sweep of the ballroom revealed that there were a few harlequins in evidence, something that made the redhead distinctly uneasy. She'd only played the big fight ending once, somehow managing to keep her court approval high enough not to have to do it again, but the sight of those Orlesian assassins mixed in with the nobility was giving her a very bad feeling.

When Cullen returned, he all but glued himself to her side, his tension palpable enough that Dorian chose not to tease him about protecting his wife in a room full of nobles who, at worst, wanted to get her into bed. In fact, Dorian was on edge; everyone she knew in this room was on edge. Granthis, who had been so jovial all evening, was watching from the sidelines, his mismatched eyes wary behind his mask. Even the nobility was beginning to feel it, their lively chatter starting to show the strain, when the herald announced that in a few moments, the Empress would be addressing them.

"Where is he?" Cullen muttered, worry and exasperation mingling in his tone. They needed Kaaras here when Celene made her announcement, or everything they'd come here to accomplish would go down the drain. And he didn't even know that Florianne was the assassin.

The suggestion of horns emerging from an unused doorway into the ballroom caught the commander's attention, and he strode away to make sure Kaaras knew what was going on. But Rory was a little more immediately concerned by the sight of the smiling mask of a harlequin too close for comfort, taking up position beside the Inquisition soldier who was guarding the door to the balcony nearby. She squeezed Dorian's arm.

"Let's move a little bit further down the rug here," she murmured to him, subtly nodding toward the theatrically-dressed assassin.

Dorian seemed to barely glance in that direction, but he nodded in agreement. "Ah, yes, the view of the Empress will be so much better from over here," he said aloud. "Her sense of style is unrivaled, so I hear. Or was, before you walked into Halamshiral." In a lower tone, so quiet she almost missed it, he added, "Stay close to me."

"I hardly think anyone's going to remember me after tonight," she told him for the benefit of anyone listening to them, as he guided her to the lee of one of the thick pillars beside the railing that looked down over the dancefloor. Defensible.

"You may be surprised," the altus answered, raising his head. "Ah, I believe the Empress is about to speak."

As the herald called for silence, and Celene took her place to address the court, Rory's eyes searched wildly for Kaaras. He wasn't moving. A cold certainty gripped her heart as her gaze rose to the Empress ... to Florianne circling behind her. She felt sick, hands gripping the warm marble of the railing before her. She knew what was going to happen.

Empress Celene was going to die. And the Inquisitor, the Herald of Andraste, her friend, was going to let it happen. A split second decision ... and there was nothing she could do to change it.