#clearly i need to write my angel boy and his canon gf more fic xD

[queen-scribbles]

For the kiss prompts: "…on a place of insecurity" for whoever speaks up

Borrowing Etain from @haledamage bc this prompt SCREAMED her/Vikkari and the muses agreed. Very late Act 3, not long before storming the Midnight Fane.

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Noble visits were the worst.

Etain struggled enough with the burden of command; having so many people look to her for guidance and protection was overwhelming after a life spent alone in the woods. But at least the soldiers and civilians didn’t seem to have any expectations on etiquette. Every so often, however, a noble from Absalom or Andoran or somewhere would show up--usually unannounced--because they wanted to see what was being done with their contributions.

Apart from their much higher standards on acceptable, delicate noblewomen with their flawless complexions and perfect posture did nothing to make Etain feel less ungainly. But it would be rude to turn them away, not to mention dangerous, with the demons all around. So she welcomed them as graciously as possible, and then did her level best to avoid them without being rude.

Duchess Safia was making that difficult. The woman was a social butterfly; outgoing enough to rival Seelah or Vikkari, chatty enough to keep up with Woljif or Nenio, and utterly uninterested in acknowledging she deemed an inferior. Which meant she only deigned to seek out Etain and occasionally Daeran or Camellia.

Etain took advantage of the opportunity presented by the latter to hide in the chapel. She’d found that unless they styled themselves as especially pious, nobles tended to avoid the provincial building. Duchess Safia was not a pious woman, making it a safe haven during her visit. An escape from her airy chatter, flawless, collected appearance, and diminutive stature that made Etain hunch even more than usual, tugging her mask up high over her nose.

The chapel was quiet today, empty save her and a single priest tending the candles scattered among the statues to various deities. Etain let her shoulders relax as she sank into a pew, half-lurking on the outer edge even mostly alone like this. Pippin settled himself in the aisle and started drifting off in mere seconds.

Why can’t they just leave me alone? Etain wondered, almost imploring, as she glanced at the statue of Iomadae, flanked by Erastil, Desna, Sarenrae, and others. Trust that I’m doing as needed and let me handle it? Showing up to watch over my shoulder just adds stress to a... calling that’s plenty hard on its own.

No answer came, not that she’d expected one in the moment.

Worrying about providing for my people, deploying armies correctly, making the right choices for running a damn city... She shifted and something dug into her thigh. I don’t know what I’m doing, I just try my best and having someone around who will judge doesn’t help- She slipped a hand in her pocket to find the pressure’s source and her fingers curled around a carved wooden bear.

A smile tugged her lips and she ran her thumb over the details of whittled fur.

“Etain?” As if summoned by her thoughts of him, a familiar voice sounded behind her. “Didn’t expect to see you here...”

“I’m hiding,” Etain said, hand still curled around the bear as she turned to watch Vikkari travel up the main aisle.

He paused, canted his head. “From everyone? ‘Cause I can leave.”

“No.” She shook her head with a quiet, almost nervous, chuckle. “You’re fine. I’m just avoiding the duchess.”

“Ah. Our latest noble guest.” He moved a pew past where she was sitting before sliding in to join her. “I was sparring with Seelah,” he explained with a laugh when she arched a brow at the choice. “Trying to spare you at least some of the fallout.”

Now that he mentioned it, Etain found she could see the sheen of sweat on his face, arms, and the portion of his chest visible with the loosely opened shirt. She pulled her gaze up from his collarbone to his eyes.  “The consideration is appreciated.” She smiled at the dirt smudged on his sleeve, cheek, and--it looked like--behind his ear.  “She win this time, or is this the price of victory?”

“The latter,” Vikkari laughed, “though it was very nearly a repeat of last time.” He saw where her gaze had gone and rubbed at the smudge on his face.

“So, is Lann next?” Etain asked lightly, half-joking, her grin hidden behind the mask. “If you’re fighting your friends?”

He snorted and shook his head. “He’d kick my ass. Prob’ly into next week. Seelah at least I have a chance; we’re pretty evenly matched.”

“It’s good you know your limits.” Her tone may have been teasing-adjacent, but that was a good--attractive--quality.

“Is that why you’re in here? Knowing your limits?”

Etain huffed a breath of a laugh. “More or less, I suppose.” She rolled the bear figurine in her hand, thumb running over the snout. “There’s enough stress to this position without doing it under the judgmental gaze of some fancy, flawless noble who’s never run a military campaign but is very concerned how you’re using her mon-”

“Etain.” She hadn’t realized she was tugging her mask ever-higher until Vikkari covered her hand with his to stop her. “It’s not right they do this to you; showing up out of the blue like you owe them something. You’re doing a good job. I know it’s hard, and not what you ever thought you’d be doing, but you are an excellent Commander.”

“I’m trying to believe that,” Etain muttered, her pulse fluttering as they sat with his hand over hers against the mask. He's hardly unbiased, her doubts whispered, but she shushed them.

“May I?” he asked quietly, and she gave a single nod, sitting frozen as he shifted the mask back to where it usually sat. His thumb brushed the scar down her cheek and she flinched. Vikkari winced. “Sorry, is that sensitive?”

She shook her head. She didn’t trust her voice right now. Not physically, anyway.

Understanding filled his eyes, which seemed to glow brighter, and he deliberately, gently, brushed his thumb over the scar again. “Flawless is overrated, I’ve found,” he murmured.

That was easy for him to say; the trio of scars that cut across the apple of his cheek only enhanced the angelic attractiveness somehow. Added a dash of the heroic to the sharp cheekbones and strong jaw. No one would ever see her scars as anything but mangling.

As if sensing the direction of her thoughts, Vikkari’s eyes flickered and he leaned over the pew back to brush a soft kiss over the scar’s beginning at her temple, just over the corner of her eye.

Etain sat frozen, unsure how to react, her heart pounding in her chest and grip tight on the carved bear. This close she could smell the sharp tang of sweat he’d been trying to spare her from, but it barely registered.

Vikkari’s neck and ears had gone pink when he sat back. “I, um, I apologize if I overstepped, Etain,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. “I just... Anyone who sees that and thinks it detracts from who you are can’t have an opinion worth caring about.”

“I wish it worked like that,” she said with a sigh. She withdrew her hand from her pocket and braced both arms against the pew back. “Unfortunately, too much of our support comes from people  who like to gossip and measure worth by appearances. As long as I can convince them I’ll lead the Crusade well and spend their money wisely, it’s just something I’ll have to endure. You can’t stop it.”

“Well, since you are doing both of those things, hopefully it’ll be obvious to any noble visitors who drop in.” Vikkari squeezed her hand.

“Hopefully,” Etain said. It varied wildly from noble to noble, she’d found. “I think I’ll keep hiding in here a little longer, all the same.”

He laughed. “I’ll try to run interference if I see the current one looking for you.” He pushed to his feet. “Meeting Seelah for that drink. You’re welcome to join us, if you like.”

“I’ll think about it,” she promised.

Vikkari nodded and made his way out of the chapel, raising one hand in a brief wave of farewell just before he stepped out the door.

Etain pulled out the carved bear, turning it over in her hands. It was clear now, just as the first time she’d examined it, how much thought and care had gone into its creation. Because he was like that. And with such friends at her back, she’d do fine. No matter how many pushy nobles she had to endure.

She lightly brushed her fingers over the spot Vikkari had kissed.

Even if I don't think friend is quite the right word for one of them any more...