#hey. watch me as i receive visions of a relationship chart Right Now.

[seaquestions]

i like that ror2 is another less-story-mostly-lore type thing cos im free to imagine how the greater UES Safe Travels polycule works as much as i want at my leisure. i can just make shit up!

[recurring-polynya]

Do we have a Byakuya giving Renji marriage advice fic? I'd love to read one!

I know this is gonna seem like I can’t read the prompt, because it’s 95% Byakuya giving Rukia marriage advice, but I just honestly think Byakuya trusts Renji on this, given that Renji has worked for him for years at this point and just sort of anticipates all his needs and understands him better than really anyone, and also, Byakuya does not understand Renji at all and has no idea how his dumb jock brain works. He knows exactly how Rukia’s brain works, though.

Anyway, I am back on my Byakuya-writing-letters bullshit, please enjoy some Sunday afternoon feels. I think it should be obvious, but this takes place the night after Rukia and Renji’s wedding.

❤️   🥂   🎊  

It was late at night, but Rukia couldn’t sleep. Too much excitement, maybe, the unfamiliarity of a new house, the evening’s pleasant alcoholic haze fading into the beginnings of a hangover. It certainly couldn’t be the idea of a new life entirely, looming in front of her like an iceberg, complete with a new name and all sorts of new possibilities. Primarily, there was a new bed and a new person who slept in it with her, and she found the idea of waking him up terrifying, so she slipped out from under the blankets and crept downstairs.

She was digging around in the kitchen, wondering if Renji had gotten around to making any pickles since he moved in a month ago (there was an entire cabinet full, wonderful man!), when she remembered the note.

Rukia had briefly flipped through the envelopes of wedding money they had received earlier. The one from her brother bulged, and when she opened it up, the bills inside were large. Renji got nervous in the presence of large sums of money and she suspected he would attempt to give it back, so put it away quickly to deal with later, but not before she noticed a sheet of paper tucked inside among the bills. It had only her name on it, in her brother’s finest handwriting.

After retrieving the note, she settled on the couch (which had been Renji’s but was now theirs because that’s how this worked) with the jar of pickles tucked beside her (the pickles were hers because they were the spicy kind Renji made specially for her even though he couldn’t eat them himself).

My beloved sister, the note opened.

It is my impression that one of the important roles of an older brother is to go before one’s younger siblings, to chart the unknown terrain of life, and to act as guide and mentor. My own marriage was characterized by deep love and joy in the face of hardship, and I hope that yours will contain all of its happiness and none of its heartache. Unfortunately, I regret to inform you, I have no idea how I did it.

When our lots were first cast together, as you know, I declined to form a close relationship with you. This was a mistake on my part, born of the fear that you would remind me too much of Hisana. Later on, to my horror, I found the truth to be far worse-- although you do share some of your sister’s fine qualities, in personality, you bear a much greater resemblance to myself.

That being the case, I imagine that by the time you find this note, you will have tied yourself up into knots over whether or not you ‘deserve this’ or if you can ever be a satisfactory partner. We are very fine Kuchiki, you and I, Rukia. We are strong of body and of will. We are dignified in all we do. We devote ourselves to our duties before our else. Our hearts are strong and love strongly, but we hold them close, as we must. Our family is our pride, which, paradoxically, makes it nearly impossible to share ourselves with those we hold closest.

Your sister Hisana was an exceedingly stubborn person, who formed her own opinions of me, which may or may not have had any grounding in reality. She frequently told me that I was ‘kind’ and ‘thoughtful’ and ‘sweet’ and a variety of other adjectives that no other thinking person would dare to apply to me. It is very difficult to live with such a person for long before you find yourself trying to live up to their misguided delusions.

As it happens, this is among the distressing number of personality traits my adjutant shares with my late wife. His optimism is endless, his vision is permanently rose-tinted, even when he insists upon wearing those horrendous goggles. Any yet, time and again, I have seen him bring out the best qualities in the horrible ne’er-do-wells under our mutual command. Indeed, if I have ever been a good brother to you, it is mostly due to his belief that I could be so. It is a verifiable fact that you are one of the best best souls in all of Soul Society, one would think it would be unimaginable to inflate your worth beyond its actual measure, and yet, somewhere, he manages that, as well.

How is one supposed to live up to these sorts of expectations from the person they love most of all? It is impossible. At least in my case, Hisana was quite aware that I am a pompous buffoon, whereas Abarai fully believes the sun rises and sets for your personal benefit. I am going to tell you something that may be difficult to hear: you have to simply deal with it. He is never going to stop. If you are truly as like to me as I suspect, you will rebel against this, your brain constantly trying to sabotage your happiness.

The fact of the matter is, Rukia, these feelings of inadequacy spring from the very fact that you hold him so dearly that your own estimation of him is also blown out of proportion. Do not misinterpret me. I am very fond of Abarai, but he is a mess. A disaster. You have probably never seen his filing system, but it would give you the vapors. (I do suggest that you take responsibility over that aspect of your household management.) Again, I sympathize. He is actually not nearly so bad as your sister, whom I once watched deface a centerpiece at a very fancy benefit dinner (the end result was extremely offensive and also very humorous). In my mind, she is still the most perfect person I have ever met.

Perhaps I am mistaken. Perhaps you are plagued with none of the insecurities that troubled the early days of my marriage, and that I was only able to come to terms with once it became evident that our time together would be finite. I desperately hope this is the case, and if so, please do me the courtesy of destroying this letter, and forgetting all of this.

In either case, I wish you the utmost happiness with your horrible husband.

Your affectionate brother,

Byakuya

Rukia’s fingers clenched on the edges of the paper. The edges of her eyes were burning. How dare he do this to her, after all these years? How many times had they crossed paths in the gardens in the hours when they should have been sleeping? Since when did they need to say things in order to show how well they understood each other? Rukia had half a mind to march over there right now and punch him in his perfect face. He was most likely sitting out next to the koi pond this very minute.

“Thinkin’ of skippin’ out on me already?” a sleepy voice asked behind her, and Rukia jumped nearly a foot in the air.

“What? No!” Rukia rubbed at her hair and frowned apologetically at Renji, who seemed more interested in yawning. "I was thinking too loud and I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“Nah, my skull is too thick, I can’t even hear my own thoughts most of the time.” Renji leaned over the back of the couch, and Rukia guiltily folded her note in half. “Letter from Captain?”

“Uh, yeah,” Rukia excused. “Sorry. It was kinda personal.”

“I understand. I got one, too. It was less personal.”

A piece of paper dropped in her lap and as she was busy unfolded it, Renji grabbed her jar of pickles.

“Hey, that’s mine!” she protested.

“You don’t gotta tell me what your brother wrote to you,” Renji yawned, tucking the pickles under his arm. “But I think you should probably listen to him. He knows what’s he’s on about.”

Rukia looked at the piece of Squad Six letterhead in her hands. In precise, businesslike handwriting, it read:

To: Abarai Renji, Assistant Captain, Sixth Division

From: Kuchiki Byakuya, Captain Sixth Division

Re: My sister/Your pending wife

Lieutenant Abarai,

Please be aware that Rukia is prone to poor decisions when she has insomnia and it is in your best interest to prevent her from consuming excessively spicy and/or vinegared goods past a respectable bedtime.

Sincerely,

Captain Kuchiki

“Rat fink!” Rukia exclaimed.

“Come back to bed,” Renji implored, pressing a kiss into her hair. “I know some good ways to make your brain shut up.”

“Okay,” Rukia agreed grumpily. “I’m eating those pickles for breakfast, though.”

“I’m makin’ pancakes, but suit yourself.”

Rukia decided that maybe it was best to try and get some rest. She had a big rest-of-her-life coming up the next day.

[thewnchstrs]

Wings

*not my gif

Pairing: DeanXreader

Summary: Dean and the reader are three years into their relationship, but things only seem to be going downhill. However, when the reader falls into a coma and is met with an unlikely circumstance, will she try to fix things with Dean or fall for someone new?

Disclaimers: coma, blood, fighting, cursing, angst, fluff, needles

Word Count: 2,817

A/N: I’ll probably make this into two parts- let me know if you want a second part!

Masterlist

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"Stay behind me,” Dean whispered over his shoulder. “Don’t want you running off and getting lost out here.”

I rolled my eyes, we’d been bickering for the past hour and a half about something I couldn’t even remember. “I’m not a kid, Dean. I can take care of myself.”

“Yeah, well I’d rather not dislocate my shoulder like last time because you decided to go off on your own.” he snapped back, involuntarily rolling his shoulder.

It’d been like this between Dean and I for a while now. One of us would say something that set the other off. It had gotten to a point, as sad as it was, that everyday seemed like a chore just being together- something that was expected of us to carry out.

I walked next to him, ignoring his comment. I held my machete at the ready as we slowly maneuvered through the darkened forest where the nest of vampires was supposed to be. This was definitely a lot harder than we anticipated,  especially because we ditched out flashlights a while back in fear that we’d attract attention to ourselves. The inky blackness swam in front of us, so thick it felt as if you could feel the darkness in your chest.

Trying to find our footing was challenging, we stumbled over our own feet caught the toes of our shoes on roots protruding from the wet grass. Sam had taken a different route, I could only imagine how he and his long legs were managing with the uneven ground.

It wasn’t long before it was almost too quiet, normally, the sounds of the trees and the cicadas were ringing in our ears, but it wasn’t until they collectively stopped when we knew something was wrong. There’s a certain hum to the earth; the hum of electricity, of wind and animals. There’s almost always a car or rush of water, all of these things that are constantly making noise that you don’t notice how loud they are until they’re gone. The hum was gone- the silence was nearly deafening.

Dean and I immediately stopped, searching the area around us. I circled in one spot, feeling suddenly uneasy when out of nowhere, two vampires appeared in front of us, throwing us halfway across the forest floor in opposite directions.

I watched as the trees rushed past me in a blur, the ground quickly approaching. Before I could use my arms to break my fall, I was skidding across the earth, leaves parting like the Red Sea from the force used to push my body through the air.

I slowly came to a stop, rocking backward, my heart pounding behind my ribcage. I searched the ground for the machete, my hands gripping the ground through the dark, but I knew it was helpless. It must have fallen from my hand when I was thrown back. I slowly picked myself up, my hands bleeding from the impact. 

“Dean?” I whispered, rubbing the blood off my palms with my long sleeves. “Dean?”

“Y/N,” a voice snarled behind me. I froze, my body clenching. I didn’t have my machete, I had no way of defending myself except for the small pocket knife I had in the inside of my jacket. “I’m surprised you walked away from that without a broke bone. Your boyfriend sure didn’t.”

I slowly turned around, inching my hand into my jacket. “You’re bluffing. if he really was hurt you wouldn’t want to miss out on getting a piece of him. Am I right?”

The vampire looked at me questioningly, his eyes squinting as if he were studying me, his head cocked slightly to the left. His hair was matted with something dark and it glinted in the moonlight. It didn’t take me long to realize it was matted with blood, his forehead and edges of him mouth covered in it.

“How do you know we haven’t already taken care of him, huh?” He taunted as we circled each other. “He begged for his life, pleaded to see that damned brother of his one more time. Funny, he never said anything about you.” He smiled deeply, his crimson teeth flashing at me. My hand gripped the handle of the knife, my knuckles turning white as he continued to talk. “Lucky for him, we saw Sammy before he saw us. Dean-o got to watch his brother get his blood drained from him.”

He stepped closer, but I stood my ground even though my feet begged me to move.

“For your sake,” I snarled, “I hope to God that you’re lying.” In one swift motion I yanked the knife from my pocket and stuck it through his neck, the handle protruding grotesquely. The vampire groaned in agony, gripping the flesh around the wound, his face contorted in pain. For a split second, I thought I had a chance, but I’d spoken too quickly because he face softened again as he easily pulled the knife from his neck, twirling it over in his hand. It hadn’t hurt him a bit.

“You should’ve known that wouldn’t work,” he dropped the knife to the ground, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, his eyes narrowing menacingly as he raced toward me. He turned, using his shoulder as he pushed against me with even more force than before, sending me sailing through the air once again but my joyride was cut short when my head forcefully connected with a large tree behind me. 

My head spun, my vision twisting in front of me until I could no longer tell which way was up and which way was down. I had to get out of here, that much I knew, even in my definitely concussed state. I had to find Sam and Dean, we needed to leave. I tried moving to my knees  when I was thrown back again, a sharp pain in my shoulder as my pocket knife soared through the air and caught. I groaned, trying to push myself up again, my vision swimming. 

The vampire appeared over me, his dark silhouette even darker than the sky above me, if that were even possible. I tried to will myself to move again, but my body no longer responded to what I wanted it to do. I could only watch helplessly from the ground as he smiled down at me, the blood on his teeth glinting. “That was much easier than I thought.”

He gripped me by my hair, pulling me up. I screamed at my body to move, to fight him off, to do something, but my limbs were no longer in sync with my head. I felt him clear a spot of my neck, catching a glimpse of his fangs poking through his gums as he got ready to bite into me as a spray of blood covered my face, his head rolling to the ground.

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Dean’s POV

Y/N fell to the ground without a sound. I ran to her side, throwing my machete behind me. By the time I’d gotten to her, her eyes were mere slits. “C’mon, Y/N, you’re going to be fine.” I pulled her into a sitting position, her head lolling to one side. “You’re okay, we’re going to get you some help.”

Sam came running from the other direction, stopping mid sprint as he took in the sight of Y/N, “is she okay?”

I looked back down at her, watching her face grow paler by the second. I fished the keys out of my pocket and threw them to Sam, “we need to get her to a hospital.”

Without another word, Sam nodded, running ahead of us as I scooped Y/N into my arms and briskly followed Sam. It’d felt like an eternity before I saw the interior lights of Baby, a beacon of safety. 

Sam had the back door propped open with a blanket already in the back. I slid her in, careful of the knife protruding her shoulder. “Go, Sam!”

The wheels spun against the dirt as he floored the gas, the forest spitting us out and onto the main road. Y/N’s breathing was only growing shallower, but managed to finally spit something out after five long minutes of silence, “Dean.”

“I’m here, baby. It’s going to be okay.” I ran a hand over her hair, my hand coming back sticky with blood. She didn’t wince when I grazed the spot again, scaring the absolute shit out of me.

“I’m so tired, Dean.” She whispered, a bit of blood spraying on to her chin.

My heart raced- I was not going to let her die. Not when things were less than perfect between the two of us. “No, Y/N. You need to stay awake. Stay with me, now.” I tried, but she only nodded, her eyes beginning to flutter shut again. “Sam, you’re going to have to go a little faster!”

“I’m going as fast as I can, Dean!” he yelled, trying to keep his calm for all of our sake.

“Hey! Stay awake!” I called to Y/N again. I could tell she was teetering on the edge of unconsciousness, “Sam!”

Sam skidded to a stop in front of a hospital, yanking the back door open and helping me get Y/N out of the car.

“Help! We need help!” I shouted at every doctor I could see within a hundred feet. We were met with two men following a hospital bed where they took her from my arms and whisked her away before we could even explain what had happened.

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Y/N’s POV

I sat up quickly, my heart pounding under the itchy material of my hospital gown. I looked around, I was hooked up to machines, heart monitors, IVs, a breathing tube. I pulled the needles from my arms and teared the breathing tubes from my face as uncertainty crept its ugly face up my spine.

How did I get here?

I swung my legs off the bed, slowly walking toward the door. I poked my head out of my room- if I got caught I’d be in huge trouble. I tiptoed down the hallway, I had to find Sam and Dean so we could get out of here. I hated hospitals.

I nearly crashed into a doctor as I looked over my shoulder to make sure I wasn’t being followed, my feet squeaking loudly on the linoleum floor as I skidded to a stop, but the doctor didn’t seem to take any notice. 

I watched him closely as he walked past me, looking at a chart. I followed him, snapping my fingers in front of his face only to receive less than a reaction. “What the hell is going on?”

I continued to follow the doctor when I came to a stop when we’d returned to my room. Dean was now sitting next to the bed, holding my hand.

Holding my hand?

I stepped closer, taking in the view of myself. I looked half dead, my skin as pale as the sheets I was laying under, my head and shoulder wrapped in gauze, a colorful bruise on my collarbone.

Dean watched the version of me in the hospital bed, his eyes never leaving my face. “Oh, Dean.” 

“He can’t hear you.” A voice said from behind me, nearly making me jump out of my skin. Castiel stood behind me in a pair of scrubs under his trench coat.

I rested a hand over my chest, trying to slow my racing heart. “Jesus, Cas. Warn me next time.” I ran a hand over my face. “What’s going on-” 

When I turned to meet Cas’ eyes for the second time, I stopped short because nothing could’ve prepared me for what I was seeing. Cas’ wings were spread so wide they reached from one end of the room to the other; each feather was meticulously different, streaks of blue and white and purple. I was speechless, I had never seen something so beautiful.

“Cas,” I whispered, reaching a hand out, unable to resist the urge to touch them. They were incredibly soft. I only took my eyes off of them when I looked back up to Cas when an overwhelming feeling fell over me. It was the same thing I had felt when I first met Dean, but this...this was different.

Cas watched me with confusion, “why- why do I feel like this? My stomach feels like it’s...I’m nervous.”

I swallowed roughly, knowing exactly the feeling, but this was wrong. I was with Dean. Dean is my boyfriend, but with all the fighting we’ve been doing lately, I didn’t even want to begin to think about the work it would take to make things right again. 

My eyes searched Cas’, my heart thudding in my throat as I reached a hand toward his face, caressing his cheek in the palm of my hand, and then I did something that was so incredibly wrong but I couldn’t stop myself once I’d started. I closed the gap between us, pulling his face closer to mine and kissed his lips.

Cas held my head in his hands, deepening the kiss before he gently pulled back, smiling down at me. “That was nice.”

I nodded, my fingertips grazing my lips where the ghost of him still lingered. “Oh god,” I said, shaking my head at the realization at what I’d done. “I’m sorry, Cas...I shouldn’t have done that. Dean is my boyfriend-”

But the worst part wasn’t that I’d kissed him. It was that I liked it and that I wanted to kiss him again- a thousand times over. The worst part was that I didn’t feel bad about doing it.

I pushed the thoughts from my head as I glanced behind me where I still laid in the hospital bed, Dean’s hand entangled in mine. “Cas, am I dead?”

Cas looked past me at my form in the bed. “No, not technically. You’re in a coma, you have pretty severe brain swelling.”

I nodded slowly, “can you help me?”

He smiled again, gently pecking my temple before walking over to half-dead me, and laying his index and middle fingers on my forehead.

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My eyes whipped open as I gagged for air around the tube protruding my throat. My eyes watered, trying to concentrate on breathing through my nose as Dean yelled for a nurse. My hands scrambled to pull myself free before it was lifted from my mouth and I took in a deep breath of stale hospital air.

“Oh my god, Y/N. Oh my god,” Dean said over and over like a mantra. He was definitely in shock. Was I not supposed to live?

I controlled my breathing and leaned back against the pillows behind me. “I’m okay,” I tried whispering by my voice was so hoarse he could hardly hear it.

“Shh, don’t talk. Don’t talk.” Dean said, holding my hand in his. Tears welled in my eyes because I remembered every second of what I’d done with Cas and I hated myself for it. I fell for someone else when the one I was supposed to be with hadn’t left my side even when he knew I probably wouldn’t make it through this.

“Hey, don’t cry. You’re okay now,” he said, tucking my hair behind my ear. “I’m here, I’ll always be here.“

I had to tell him. I had to tell him what happened. The pull of the truth gripped my throat like vice and as I'd just barely gathered enough courage to open my mouth, he began talking.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry that I’ve been such a dick lately. Picking fights with you over the littlest things, blaming you for things that weren’t even your fault. But when I found out you were an inch from dying...I did everything. I prayed to Cas, I called Crowley. I had tried everything and I really thought you were gone- for real this time. I don’t know what I’d do if you were gone I just- I wouldn’t be able to live without you.”

Tears streamed down his face as he rested his forehead against the back of my hand. 

I didn’t know what to do, an internal battle between what was right and what was easy. But I couldn’t do it, not now, not like this. 

I laid a hand on his head, running my fingers through the short hair. My heart sank at the sight of him crumbling at the thought of me dying. I felt a rush of cool air against my right cheek, and as I looked, I saw Cas, standing in the corner of the room.

I bit my lip, shaking my head slightly. It was a tell tale sign I hadn’t told Dean. In an instant, he was gone and I was left with my head telling me I needed to stay faithful to Dean and an aching pull in my heart for a fallen angel.

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Everything Tag List

@spnbaby-67​ | @octo-cow52​

[runningwolf62]

@wardencommanderrodimiss

Okay this is really old and I think I originally wrote it as Brennan was just a companion but I tweaked it so he’s an Inquisitor now, I was exploring how the Redcliffe bad future would affect his and Dorian’s relationship. It was also supposed to be longer, so I’ll probably come back and finish it now that I’ve found it again.

Dorian was a bit surprised when he arrived to find someone already in his corner of the library. Brennan Trevelyan looked over the books on the shelves, occasionally muttering to himself.

“No, not that one,” he paused and turned to face Dorian, immediately he grinned.

“Dorian, always a pleasure to see you.”

Dorian looked over the younger man before him, a swipe of dark blue paint curved over one cheek, under his tattoo and several patches were scattered on his shirt. Dorian’s eyes drifted to the splash of blue in Brennan’s hair, then back to the man himself, “how can I be of service?”

Brennan’s answered with a smirk full of promises and replied, “in so many ways but right now I’m looking for a book, and I hope you can help me.”

“What in particular are you looking for?”

Brennan looked away, “there should be a book on astronomy around here, I saw it before, and I just need to look at it for two seconds.”

“And you need my help because…”

Brennan pulled his hands out from behind his back, he was not wearing his gloves, and it was obvious as to why, paint was all over his hands and fingers, which rather explained how it had gotten on his face and in his hair.

“I can’t touch anything, well I mean I could but I don’t want to end up on the receiving end of your fireballs, so…”

Dorian raised his eyebrow, “I was under the impression you were borrowing Solas’ paint to paint on the walls, not yourself.”

“Hey, most of it has gone on the walls,” Brennan insisted, tucking his arms back behind his back.

Dorian resisted the urge to point out the dried patch in his hair, “I do know what book you’re looking for though, one moment.” He’d rather hope Brennan would never come looking for it actually.

He pulled it off the shelf and offered it to Brennan, who raised an eyebrow.

“I still can’t touch it. Or turn the pages.”

“Is that a ‘please Dorian, would you be so kind as to help me in my time of need’?”

“Are all people from Tevinter this sarcastic or is this just your unique charm?”

“Oh now I have unique charm, do go on.”

“I’m sure you don’t need me to sing your praises, you do a fine job yourself,” Brennan grinned playfully, “however if that’s what it takes to get what I want, well, I’m willing to compromise.”

Dorian was tempted to reply, see how far they were both willing to go, when Brennan’s smile faded, “later though, I have to get back to painting and things. Shame, a few of your better qualities spring to mind.”

“Oh, like what?” Dorian did enjoy hearing a handsome man praise him.

“Well certainly not your humility or helpfulness,” Brennan could be as quick on his feet as Dorian on occasion, a trait most endearing.

Dorian could tell he’d get nothing more from Brennan now, as much as he enjoyed trying, “I suppose I’ll have to prove my helpfulness after all.”

He carried the book to a nearby table and opened it, Brennan used this chance to lean into Dorian’s personal space, subtle he was not, for as good as he was at stealth.

“There’s a map I need to see, page… one seventeen I think,” he chewed his lip a little as he thought, “that sounds right.”

Dorian paged through the book, the map was on the page Brennan had said, he left it open for him, and moved aside so Brennan could see.

Brennan leaned towards it, “let’s see, there’s Equinor, Judex, and there’s Servani.”

Dorian went still at the sound of Brennan naming that constellation.

Dorian and Esti stopped at the door, listening to the whispers from the room, followed by the sounds of scratches on the wall. Another one of her companions maybe, or perhaps another of Corypheus’ unfortunate trophies.

Together they slid into the room, and found more of the cells.

“Servani. The chained man. Possibly represents… represents…”

It possibly represented Andoral, but who was talking about constellations?

He peered into the cell, and was greeted by the sight of Brennan crouched at in the corner. In one hand he held a stone, carving marks into the stone that hadn’t been taken over by lyrium. The dim red light flickered over the walls, shining on the indents, Dorian recognized them as the shapes of constellations, hundreds of them were carved in sides of the cell.

Brennan could no longer see the night sky so he’d brought it into his cell with him. Whether for comfort or from madness was yet to be seen.

Esti hissed in alarm at seeing her friend like this, “Bren?”

He turned and Dorian’s eyes fell where the mark should be. Where his arm should be. Brennan stumbled to his feet, moving towards the bars, “Esti?”

“Bren?” Esti looked ready to cry, “oh Creators, what did he do to you?”

Brennan shook his head, “I was a war trophy, a prize.” He lifted his hand, “I’m alright now.” The joke fell rather flat and he let the silence stretch as they opened the cell door to let him out.

Dorian had the explanation ready but Brennan stepped right out of the cell with no further questions. He looked at Esti with a mix of relief, grief and guilt. Dorian knew he didn’t want to hear the story this vision would tell.

“You believe it’s us?” he asked, before he could help it. But how could he not, everyone else had doubted it.

“What does it matter, real or not, dead or not, demons or not, this is better than dying in that cell.” He turned to look at Dorian, his eyes red and dull, unfocused as though Dorian weren’t there, his lifeless gaze passing through him.

“Dorian?”

He blinked, and met Brennan’s gaze. His eyes were brown and clear, focused on him with a look of concern, his gaze trained on him.

“You were staring at me, and I was flattered until you suddenly looked kind of horrified.”

“Sorry,” Dorian apologized, “Got lost in thought.”

Brennan looked more concerned but nodded slowly, “are you sure you’re okay?”

“Fine, don’t you have a painting to get back to.” He waved his hand and moved back to his books, “and I have books to get back to.”

“I mean yes but you looked… not fine,” Brennan followed after him, reaching out before pulling his paint splattered hand back.

Dorian shook his head and turned to Brennan, who still looked concerned, “it’s fine, just a realization is all.” He saw no reason to tell Brennan how bad he’d been off in the future he and the other Inquisitor had seen.

Brennan pulled back, “well, umm… thank you for your help.” He rubbed the side of his neck, leaving a smear of paint from his hand, Dorian’s eyes lingered there, “I’ll see you later then.”

With that he headed off down the staircase. It hadn’t even occurred to him to ask why Brennan had come to the library with paint on his hands to look at a star chart. It was hardly the weirdest thing one of the Inquisitors’ companions, himself included, had done though. That spirit… Cole wasn’t it, had far stranger behavior. Dorian watched Brennan stop to talk to Solas briefly before heading out the door.

“In an hour I could probably make this work,” he was bragging a little, pushing himself a little but he’d have to try.

Brennan turned without a word to him, he stopped only to speak to Esti, their voices quiet, a conversation for Heralds alone. Then he headed for the doors, dagger in his unsteady hand. He didn’t even look behind him, he stopped only to wait for the other to catch up. Dorian met the Herald’s eyes, Esti didn’t look happy about this, but they had no other option. They would go back. They would stop this. This didn’t have to happen. He looked over at where the thing that had been Felix lay, before focusing again on the crystal. This didn’t have to happen.

-

It was a while before Dorian managed to catch more than just a glimpse of Brennan darting around the keep, between his research and Brennan’s own work on whatever he was doing their paths simply hadn’t crossed. Dorian wasn’t overly surprised though to find him outside one night, gazing up at the night sky.

“Evening,” Brennan greeted him with a grin, “you’re not spending the night deep in your books?”

“And you’re not spending it holed up in your room?”

“On a night like tonight?” Brennan sounded incredulous, “not a chance.”

Dorian looked up, the sky was clear and cloudless, marred only by the scar from The Breach.

Brennan was playing with was resembled opera glasses, a rather well-worn pair, “I mean, up here we have a really good view of the sky, this is one of the best views I’ve ever had. No buildings, few lights, it’s perfect.”

Dorian settled against the rampart next to him, “is that so?” It seemed fitting that a place called Skyhold would have the best view of the stars.

Brennan nodded, and offered the glasses to Dorian, “they’re not great, but if you want to look…”

Dorian held up a hand, “thank you but I’ve gone by the tavern tonight, so my grip may not be quite steady I’m afraid.”

Brennan nodded and withdrew the offered glasses, “alright, thanks. Though they can handle being dropped if you change your mind.”

Dorian followed Brennan’s gaze upwards, “I don’t believe I’ve ever told you how impressive it is how fast you are at those astrium puzzles?”

He looked over in time to catch Brennan duck his head, “thank you. Just years of staring at the sky.”

“To the point of having constellations memorized?”

Brennan shrugged, and kept playing with the glasses, Dorian studied him as he did, the way his fingers shifted over the frames, his eyes glancing between the glasses, the sky and Dorian.

“Favorite constellation?”

“Equinor, the stallion,” Brennan pointed towards the southern sky, “it’s low but you can see it, I never could in Ostwick.”

Dorian wasn’t sure which set of stars was meant to resemble a horse, but he took Brennan’s word for it, “least favorite.”

Brennan took much longer to answer, staring at the sky for far longer before answering, “if I had to pick, Judex.” He pointed to the south again but this time to the left.

“But only because I hated being a Templar,” he added, “the constellation itself is fine.”

“All those years failing to be a Templar gone to waste,” Brennan quipped, Dorian noticed his hand shook occasionally where he held his dagger, “Corypheus could stick me in his army now with the amount of lyrium in me.” The smile he offered was bitter and as brittle as the red lyrium.

Dorian blinked, Brennan was looking up again, not even paying attention to him. He’d had too much to drink, far too much.

“Did you ever have lyrium as a Templar?”

Brennan gave him a look of confused disgust, “no? I was only a recruit, never finished training, why?”

“No reason,” Dorian was studying Brennan, how many jokes had he made in the future? He couldn’t remember but then again, he hadn’t actually been paying that much attention. He’d been too busy trying to get himself and Esti back so they could stop all of it from happening. Dorian wasn’t sure anymore how much of his memories were real, and what his mind and the demons of the fade had made up to torture him night after night.

Brennan met his gaze, “hey. I have a question for you.”

“Oh?” Dorian raised an eyebrow, “are we to play a game of questions tonight?”

“You started it,” Brennan got to his feet so they now stood equal to each other, “why ask me about lyrium?”

“Seeing as we deal with the stuff constantly it was merely a question that concerned me,” Dorian replied, Brennan offered a reassuring smile.

“Well you can rest easy, I’ve never had any.” His grin turned flirtatious as his eyes roamed over Dorian, “I’m drawn to other vices.”

“Ah, a wise man,” Dorian winked back at him, though he wanted to be more than a vice, he had to admit Trevelyan had a charm to him. When he wasn’t accidentally causing chaos. Though, as Dorian made his excuses, and left Brennan there, awash with moonlight, perhaps that was also part of his charm.

-

The explosive force from the spell knocked Dorian and Brennan to the ground, Dorian scrambled back to his feet and sent a fireball back, before he realized Brennan hadn’t gotten back up.

“Brennan?”

Brennan’s body fell to the ground, limp and lifeless, they were out of time, it was time to go, he grabbed Esti’s shoulder, dragged her back to the portal, couldn’t save them now, had to go back to save them.

“Brennan!” Dorian reached down and shook the rogue, a bit harder than necessary, in an attempt to force the memory back. He wasn’t sure he’d actually seen Brennan’s body in Redcliffe castle, but now that he had the man lying at his feet, what he’d imagined seemed all too real.

Brennan grunted and shook off, water and mud spraying over Dorian, “sorry about that, hope you left some for me.” He grabbed his blades and got to his feet, he swayed a moment before Esti steadied him. They moved off side by side, Dorian followed after.

However, the image of Brennan, wracked by red lyrium and dead on the floor lingered, as did the image of Brennan unconscious on the ground, even as they made their way to where The Champion’s contact was.

To make it worse, Dorian was almost certain he hadn’t actually seen Brennan die in Redcliffe, but rather it was part of the nightmares he had. It bothered him that at some point the idea of Brennan dying had become so troubling a demon had created the image just to torment him with it.

Brennan, for his part, seemed oblivious to Dorian’s distress, wiping the rain from his face and pushing his bangs out of his eyes, “you know if we wanted to go swimming we could’ve just jumped in the lake.”

“I haven’t been swimming in ages,” Dorian commented, not since the summers when his mother and he would go boating.

“I can’t swim,” Brennan admitted, “though if this keeps up I’ll learn how in no time.”

“You can’t swim?”

“Never learned,” Brennan shrugged, “didn’t help keep mages from doing their wicked blood magic and destroying the good name of the Maker, so I was never taught.”

Dorian blinked, a response to both Brennan’s statement and the water running down his face, “you really do hold no love for the Templars do you?”

“What gave it away, my fondness for mages?” Brennan winked at him, before following after Esti, “come on, sooner we get to those caves, sooner we’re out of the rain.”

“Yes, but we might encounter those lovely oversized spiders all of Thedas seems so fond of.”

Brennan made a gagging sound at the prospect, and the image of him dead on the floor of Redcliffe Castle faded more and more.