#also yes this version of tobias was inspired by jacks from once upon a broken heart do not perceive me okay he is hot and unhinged

[sailxrmxrs]

more infinite blue fics who could have guessed teehee. this one's for tobias nation i am being nice to you for once <3 but also make it rivals to lovers because i want to write about tobias being mean but also i adore the 'we dislike each other but also pretend we don't secretly have feelings for each other' trope so much it tastes so good. i had a whole other plan for this but then rings of power happened and the galadriel/halbrand dynamic grabbed me in a chokehold so u get this instead. writing this was also a struggle of me battling my internet while also fighting the urge to keep playing piofiore episodio 1926. it's been a TIME. but take some more fantasy/historical au tobias bc WHY NOT RIGHT also!! a content warning for violence/blood/injuries basically your usual fantasy things. stay comfy gamers and buckle in bc it's a long one o7

The sun had about reached its peak in the sky as you strolled through the castle grounds. Today was a rare day spared from your regular duties, a blessing that only came once every few weeks. There truly was no greater pleasure than to be awoken by the sun’s first morning rays brushing your face and turning over, burrowing further under the covers for an extra hour of sleep. That extra sliver of rest was enough to alleviate the persisting tiredness from the last few days. And now, a clear schedule ahead, there was a window of time dedicated entirely to you. So, as fitting with your station, you were making your way to the main training room. Other fighters of the King’s army were scattered about the courtyard, those relieved of their duties for the day swing swords at training dummies or sparring with a partner. Considering the bright skies and gentle warmth in the air, most were making the most of the nice weather. What nicer backdrop to the rigorous training regimes than a clear sky and the far-off sound of birds chirping atop the castle walls? However, in spite of the perfect conditions, days off were enjoyed much more thoroughly when spent alone. Of course, you enjoyed the companionship of your fellow fighters—they were the people you trained so hard to defend and aid in battle, after all. But no matter how close you may be with a great deal of them, days off were you to revel in your own company.

There were no sounds to be heard coming from inside the training room, the exact sign you were hoping for that the next two hours of your time would be spent in comfortable solitude. Releasing a satisfied sigh, you stepped over the threshold and assessed the equipment available. In doing so, your eyes landed on a familiar figure loosing an arrow into a target standing at the far end of the expansive room. Tobias. He was no new addition to the fighting ranks but had been a thorn in your side from the moment you laid eyes on him. He’d been recruited after a raid on a suspected rebel camp years ago after pleading innocence and offering his services in the form of battle prowess for the King. He was employed on a temporary basis until he was proved trustworthy enough to not act as a double agent and had been part of your day-to-day life ever since. At first his overly confident words were brushed aside as a nervous desire to be accepted among the others but as time went on, he proved that he was simply that confident in himself. Although perhaps arrogant was more apt. Tobias walked about the place as though he owned it, when he wasn’t being watched by superiors, that was. He held himself with indescribable regard that perhaps even the King himself couldn’t match And, of course, he could sense your dislike for him from a mile away. He would find ways to get himself assigned to work alongside you, would seek you out as for sparring practice, would take up a seat beside you during meal hours. Tobias spent more time with you than your shadow did—it felt that way, anyway.

Typically spending so much time in another person’s presence led to a close friendship developing but the exact opposite had transpired between the both of you. The mutual hatred was palpable, creating a tension so heavy it could almost be seen if someone focused their eyes hard enough. Threats of violence were commonplace and whenever you sparred together, neither held back; someone always walked away with a black eye or bruised rib from a harsh kick to their side. How the contempt for one another had grown so far was a true enigma to many of your friends, all looking on in question of whether the animosity was purely hatred or if another emotion lingered deep beneath. There had not been one standout moment to facilitate your less than pleasant feelings toward Tobias, but rather a general sense of distrust. He was not one to share much of his past nor did he show any desire to partake in activities that weren’t mandatory. He’d cite excuses of prior plans or tiredness from a day of patrols and leave for his room, only to be undiscoverable within the hour. Where he went was unknown to anyone but himself and you couldn’t help but begin to harbour seeds of distrust, only fuelling the fires of resentment with each day that passed.

Even now as Tobias lazily approached the target, having shot it directly in the centre, you were itching to wipe the smug smile that no doubt stretched across his face. He had paused at the target with the arrow sitting now in his hands as he examined it, fingers gently touching the head of the arrow with each gentle tap against his fingertips. Eyes darting to the throwing knives beside you, temptation snuck up onto your shoulder and whispered in your ear. Tobias had not yet noticed your arrival or, if he had, he was ignoring you likely to incite action. If action was what he sought, you would happily oblige. You took up a knife, eyes zoning on your target and letting it fly free. The throwing knife hit its mark exactly as intended, brushing past Tobias’ cheek and implanting itself in the target in front of him.

“A dangerous game you’re playing there, aren’t you? Two can play at that game,” he drawled, indifference lacing his words before he snapped into action and notched an arrow, aimed and shot at the spot on the wall right above your head. It had come dangerously close to your scalp, the feeling of the arrow brushing over your hair and sending a shudder down your spine.

"Is it dangerous if I trust in my skills?"

"Ah, but what if I had moved in the way? Would you tend to my wounds for me?" Tobias prowled across the training room, eyes fixed on you. He met your scowl with his mouth quirked into a scrutinising smile, as though he were calculating your intentions and assessing the best way to slither beneath your skin. Judging from the amusement all over his face, he was well into the process of concocting said plan.

"In your dreams. Watching you bleed out would give me great pleasure," you quipped, arms folding across your chest as you refused to back down to his towering frame. Tobias was far too tall for his own good, and it only fuelled his already staggering self-confidence.

His smile turned to a grin as he stopped in front of you. "Well, I do strive to please. In all areas, might I add." Tobias' grin only grew as you scoffed and pushed him away with disgust. "Too far? And here I thought you could handle a little more than that." Tobias now had an arm holding onto the casing of the door frame above your head as he leaned in closer despite the hand that tried to keep him at bay.

“Do you have to stand so close?”

Tobias ignored you, staying completely still as he continued on as though you’d never spoken. “You know, I’m surprised you’re not out there training with the others. You know how much I loathe seeing you spar with anyone other than me.”

“Hasn’t it ever crossed your mind that I do it simply because you hate it so much?” You could feel yourself getting more and more frustrated the loner you remained talking to Tobias, but there was no backing out of this encounter. Not if you wanted to retain any semblance of your dignity. Should you walk away now, Tobias would hold it over your head for weeks or, more likely, months.

The corner of Tobias’ lip twitched as though the idea of being so thoroughly disliked by you entertained him—as though this were all some long-running game of cat and mouse. “I’m flattered you think of me so much around other men. You know, if you crave my attention so badly, you need only visit my room. You know where it is, after all.”

“Rather presumptuous of you to assume my thoughts of you are in any way nice.”

Tobias raised an eyebrow at your dismissal, quickly firing back with his sharp tongue. “And it’s rather presumptuous of you to believe I don’t enjoy that to my very core.”

You blanched for a moment, Tobias managing to knock you off balance with each quip he sent your way. The man was insatiable in all the wrong ways. “What? You enjoy the fact I loathe your presence? I’m not one to judge but that doesn’t sound entirely healthy.”

“Have you never heard of the saying ‘keep your friends close and your enemies closer’? Well, little fox, wouldn’t you like to find out how close we can be?” Tobias' voice was a low purr, his face now barely an inch away from your ear as he let the low dulcet tones of his voice sink beneath your skin. He was a lethal man in so many ways, but this felt far more life threatening than any dagger to your throat or arrow to your heart could ever feel.

"Not in the slightest. Now are we done here? Some of us have plans they'd rather leave undisturbed." It took a great deal of self restraint to not take a small step back or waver under Tobias' watch. He was still leaning in close, clearly unaffected by the distinct lack of amusment on your own features. He seemed to be weighing up his options, but at your refusal to back down he finally moved away, bored with your lacking reaction. Tobias wished you a happy training session, his voice completely devoid of any genuine well wishes as he walked away. It took a good few minutes to calm the annoyance that had swelled during the short encounter with him, your mind replaying certain choice words and phrases he'd used while you warmed up to train.

The remaining afternoon passed by uneventfully, your training session alleviating all Tobias related stress. There really was something therapeutic about slashing a sword against a training dummy as hard as you were physically able. Eventually your body reached its finishing point, muscles tinged with dull aches that could only be relieved by a steaming hot bath. It was the signifier you needed to call it a day and return to your room to enjoy the remainder of your afternoon without any pressing duties. You were free to spend some time indulging in hobbies you otherwise had to set aside in place of training newer recruits or studying new formations. That peace was later shattered, of course, when news arrived that the castle was under attack. Of all days for there to be an ambush of any kind, it had to be the one day you were supposed to be relieved of duties. But, despite fate's cruel timing, you prepared to take up arms and fight as was expected of you. This was what you trained so hard for.

Commotion and chaos consumed the courtyard. What once had been the sunny site of peaceful afternoon training was now a bloodsoaked battleground. Night had fallen, bringing with it the cover of darkness—which had its own benefits and drawbacks. The diminished light meant that you could easily hide in the shadows before striking the castle's attackers but, by the same token, they could just as easily do the same. Still, with all your experience in battle you believed wholeheartedly in yourself and the soldiers at your side going out into the night. Clamour of swords clashing, metal on metal like a cacophonous thunder, and the shouts of angers were the music of the night. It was never pleasant, nor did it get much easier with each fight you found yourself entrenched in. It wasn't long before your sword was stained a deep, dark colour, far removed from its once silver sheen under the light of the moon. Flecks of blood and mud adorned your cheeks, none of it your own. Though some of your comrades were not quite so lucky. There was no time to dwell on whose injuries were beyond saving no matter how biting the sting of death always seemed to be. All those complicated emotions could stir once you were safe again in the comforts of your bed.

Advancing to another section of the courtyard, you searched for signs of further infiltration. There was always the chance this onslaught of attackers was a mere distraction from some ulterior motive playing out elsewhere. Despite having slipped into the shadows to make your escape, a stray attacker took advantage of your false sense of security. Just as you registered the presence behind you, a sharp sting heated at your side. Ignoring the building pain, you swung into action. Luckily this was your only combatant. With your newly acquired injury, fighting more than one opponent would prove rather challenging. Possibly fatal. Dying here was not an option. Not for you. Even as you moved a portion too slowly, the hilt of your attacker's dagger colliding with your head, you couldn't contemplate the chances of losing no matter how quick your attacker might be—and they were unbelievably fast. You raised your sword, bracing for the oncoming pain that never seemed to arrive.

When you refocused your vision, adrenaline the only force keeping your knees from buckling, all that you could see was the all-too-familiar head of golden hair stood before you. Tobias held a bloodied sword in hand as he fended off your attacker with an excellent precision; he might be insufferable, but the man could certainly fight. Your vision blurred, the inflicted wounds creeping up on you—not to mention the pounding headache that had just been inflicted upon you. There was no chance you'd be seeing this battle to its end with these injuries. No matter how much you wanted to press on, you had to bandage the still bleeding wound at your side and find something to ease the ache in your head. A cold darkness threatened to pull you under, the blanket of unconsciousness feeling like a welcome idea if not for the fact that Tobias had just killed your attacker. Grasping onto those wispy tendrils of consciousness, your breathing heaved as you focused on Tobias. If anything would keep you awake and aware, it was spite; you couldn't let Tobias hold this over you. Never in a thousand years would you allow him to be the one responsible for your survival and so you moved to continue fighting, despite your instincts telling you to retreat.

"I knew you were stupid, but I didn't think you'd be stupid enough to throw your life away. You're injured. We need to fix you up," he called out, his breathing laboured as he remained rooted in place.

"So what if I am? I'm fine. I can fight." You had never been a good liar.

Tobias knew it too, walking closer as he reached for your wrist. "Please, just let me patch you up. You're clearly hurt." If you didn't know him better, you'd think there was some semblance of pain in his voice. Surely not.

"I told you, I'm fine. It's not as bad as you think. But I'll tend to it anyway. Alone." You made sure to stress the finality of your last comment. This was the last scenario in which you wanted Tobias' presence, let alone his aid. It wasn't that deep of a wound anyway. Nothing to fret over or concern anyone else with, least of all him. Despite his continued insistance to clean the wound and help dress it, you waved him off, erasing any evidence of the pulsing pain at your side until he finally gave in and listened. You weren't sure if he'd believed your claims but at least he'd finally acquiesced. Perhaps if he hadn't been so insufferably vexing in the training room earlier you might have relinquished and let him help you. But this was Tobias, ever the pain in your side even when staring in the face of mortal danger. When you finally reached the privacy of your rooms, peeling away the leather armour that protected your torso from sustaining further injuries, the pain only spread from the loss of pressure on the wound. You hissed at the feeling, head snapping up when you heard a familiar voice sigh from the doorway. Of course he hadn't believed you. Of course he'd come after you despite your instructions not to.

"And you said it wasn't that bad," Tobias said, his voice surprisingly languid considering the urgency with which he'd spoken earlier. He was leaning against the doorframe, his arms folded as he stared at the open wound at your side and the blood seeping onto your blouse.

You glared at him, unable to move the hand that instinctively came to your side to attempt to combat the pain. "Is this the part where you say ‘I told you so’? Because I’m really not in the mood for it right now, Tobias.”

He shook his head, stepping closer. It was now that you could see the dampened washcloth and gauze in his hands. “I’m going to patch you up like I said I would.”

“Thought I told you to leave it. That I could manage it myself."

“Did you really believe I’d listen? Did you really think I wouldn’t follow you?”

“No. I knew you would.” Your voice was quiet now, barely above a whisper as you angled your head away from Tobias. “You always do come to help, don’t you?”

Tobias continued his ministrations, treating your wound with utmost care. His hands were surprisngly gentle, barely ghosting your skin as he cleaned the wound as painlessly as possible. Whoever this Tobias was he was a farcry from the man you'd clashed with just a few hours ago. With every hiss of pain or involuntary twitch, Tobias would pause, eyes searching your face for any hint of distress.

“You can stop looking at me as though I’ll break. I can handle it,” you scolded, finally meeting his concerned look. He seemed strained, as though he was holding something back, though what exactly that was, you weren’t sure. Tobias was notoriously hard to read.

“Maybe you can. But I can’t.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Tobias sighed. You didn’t expect to feel the loss of his hands so strongly. “Nothing. Just…please don’t get yourself hurt like this again.”

You looked at him incredulously, the slight movement of your body sending a painful reminder that you needed to remain as still as possible right now. “And why do you care? I didn’t ask for you to come help me. Or even defend me back there. I don’t know what you were thinking, you could’ve gotten yourself injured or worse, killed!”

“That’s rich coming from you,” Tobias scoffed. He had finished cleaning the wound and had begun to dress it, his eyebrows knitted in annoyance. “If I hadn’t stepped in you’d be in a lot worse shape right now. Possibly not even standing to scold me.”

“So why’d you do it? Since when have you cared about my safety? I vaguely recall you shooting an arrow at my head earlier. Not exactly the actions of someone who cares for my physical health."

“You seem to forget that was an act of retaliation after you threw a knife flying past my face." He paused for a moment, hands halting in their movements. "And besides, little fox, the only one who’s allowed to kill you, is me.” Tobias had his hand on your chin, forcing you to hold his gaze. The eye contact was excrutiating, especially when you could see the murderous intent swimming in his eyes. Why he didn't just finish the job now, you didn't know. Clearly he wanted to. Yet he was bandaging you up as though he were a caring friend or doting lover, concerned for your wellbeing.

"Heavens above I hate you, Tobias," you whispered, knowing he heard every syllable as he looked into your face. If either of you moved even the slightest bit closer, his nose would be pressed against yours.

"All this talk of hating me and yet you didn't stab me when you had the chance, hm? I know you threw that dagger with no intention to strike true. You could've done it, you know? A single thought and I would have been gone. None the wiser to who my assassin would've been." Tobias' breath was warm over your face, every word painting your face and weighing you down. "Or perhaps you enjoy this little dynamic we have going on? Pretending that beneath all that hate and contempt there isn't the pulling tug of desire, begging for one of us to finally give in."

You tried to ignore the hand that danced on your uninjured waist—not to mention his burning touch still lingering on your chin. "You'll find me dead before I admit any kind of feelings for you."

"Oh, so you acknowledge they exist then? No matter how buried they may be, I guarantee it won't last. I know you far better than you give me credit for." The hand on your waist slipped beneath the blouse, his fingers cold on your side. You couldn't help the shiver that traveled the length of your spine as you struggled for a reply.

"Merely a lapse in judgement," you spoke, finally finding your voice. "Trust me, the moment I no longer owe you for saving my life? You're dead."

Tobias chuckled, the sound as cold as his touch had been. "We'll see about that, won't we? Hate me all you want. But we've got to keep you alive for that. I don't want you dead yet, anyway. And I'll kill anyone that even thinks about stealing my pleasures from me."