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inaris-mage-of-storms · 10 months

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(Warning for suggestive content/conversation.)

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There was a moment, lying there under his blankets and the weight of his worries, when Scott wondered if Jimmy would notice if he didn't get out of bed today.

It had been a while since Scott had even slept in his own room. Sleeping in Jimmy's bed, all he had to do on the days he didn't want to move was nuzzle into Jimmy with a noise of complaint, and the canary happily stopped trying to get out of bed in favor of holding Scott close. Now, though, he was alone. He was alone and that familiar fog was swirling through his head and making his chest ache and his skin cold and when had he started crying?

"This is so stupid," mumbled Scott into his pillow. Fwhip was back and Jimmy was happy and Scott...Scott was angry. He was angry at himself, because Jimmy was happy, and instead of being happy for him, Scott was feeling sorry for himself and contemplating staying in bed just so he could - what? Test if Jimmy would still come to him when Fwhip was right there? How petty.

Jimmy didn't deserve that. Scott buried his face deeper into his pillow and screamed, dragging it out until he was out of breath. His frustration faded with the last of the sound, and at least Scott knew he had a reason besides selfishness to stay in bed, because as the wave of emotions passed he felt exhausted.

But if Scott didn't get out of bed today, then Jimmy would worry. No matter how long it took him to notice, he would notice eventually and he would worry, because he was Jimmy, and Scott sometimes wondered how such a big heart could fit inside such a small bird. He sighed, took a moment to gather his strength, and stood up.

It took him a while to decide what to make for breakfast, because as he stared at the pantry Scott realized he had a lot of questions. What did Fwhip like for breakfast? He assumed there would be some overlap with what Jimmy liked, but how many of Jimmy's meals over the last winter were routine and how many were an opportunity to eat something he perhaps didn't get as often when Fwhip was around? Would Jimmy even want breakfast today, or would he be in Fwhip's bed all day? Their bath was long over, judging by the giggles Scott had heard from behind Fwhip's door on his way to the kitchen, and for all he knew, neither of them would be emerging for some time.

Scott would be surprised if they did, to be honest. He knew he certainly wouldn't be interested in something as mundane as food, if he had just returned from five months without Jimmy beside him.

Then again, in their brief time together Scott had gotten the impression that Fwhip wasn't the sort to let Jimmy skip meals. Jimmy's well-being was important to him. Scott didn't know if Fwhip's desire for Jimmy to take care of himself would win out against Jimmy's desire for attention any time soon, but meals could be reheated. He gathered what he needed and began preparing breakfast for three, just in case.

Lost in his own thoughts and the sound of sausages sizzling in the pan, Scott didn't notice the footsteps behind him until there were hands on his waist and lips against his neck. "Gosh, sorry," said Jimmy with a grin when Scott jumped. "You're not normally so easy to sneak up on."

"Got carried away letting my mind wander, I guess," said Scott, and he was sure his smile was convincing, but the way Jimmy studied him made him question the stability of his facade.

"Want me to set the table?" asked Jimmy instead of whatever questions he really had, and Scott loved him for it, and as they moved around one another in the kitchen it almost felt like every other morning they'd shared over the last few months.

Almost. He could feel Fwhip's eyes on him as the goblin helped Jimmy arrange dishes. Jimmy took the food to the table and began serving as everyone sat down, and Fwhip's ears perked up in interest. "This smells incredible," he said, eagerly reaching for the potatoes. "Is that fresh rosemary? This early in the season?"

"I planted some herbs in the garden cave I built for Scott," said Jimmy, looking as pleased by Fwhip's delight as he had been by Scott's delight at finding that particular corner of the grotto. "He can work some real magic in the kitchen, let me tell you! I can't wait to see what he'll be able to do once the first harvest comes in."

Scott ducked his head to hide a smile at Jimmy's praise, even as he felt his ears betray the warmth he felt. He found some reassurance, too, in Jimmy's clear assumption that Scott would still be around to share meals with them later in the year. But he also felt Fwhip's thoughtful gaze on him again, and some of his own certainty faded.

Over the next week Fwhip and Jimmy settled back into the routines they were used to, but Scott found it difficult to calibrate his new normal. He had gone from a frivolous, cavalier life of adventure and thievery, to several tedious years of strictly structured work, to a few decadent months of domesticity alone with a man he was enamored with. Now his canary was gone more and more, spending time with Fwhip or working with the farmers on the surface. Scott tried to busy himself with crafting or reading or cooking, but over and over he found himself turning to say something to Jimmy only to find no one there, or absently reaching for Jimmy's hand only to find empty air.

When Jimmy was around, he was as free with his affections as ever, twining his fingers with Scott's or kissing him softly or laying across Scott's lap and blanketing them both with his wings. Fwhip didn't seem bothered by it in the slightest - he even whistled teasingly when he walked in on Jimmy and Scott on the couch with Jimmy making it very clear that he wanted the elf's attention, and laughed when Scott turned bright red. But without direct confirmation of what was expected of him, Scott's fears and insecurities got the better of him, and he decided the best way to calm his nerves would be to simply ask.

Jimmy was on the surface, and Fwhip was in his study, and Scott was in front of his mirror wondering about the best way to present himself. He could go to Fwhip in the plain, simple clothing he'd been given when Fwhip first brought him to the house. He was only a prisoner, after all, and would be showing up of his own accord, without waiting for the king to summon him. Contrite and demure could be the way to go. On the other hand...Scott looked at his colorful coat, then at himself in the mirror again.

Fwhip liked to collect pretty things.

Scott pulled on his boots and his coat and tied his silk sash around his waist. He retrieved his jewelry from where it lay tucked in his bag, sliding rings on his fingers, cuffs and earrings on his ears, and bracelets onto his wrist. He checked another pocket of the bag and smiled, glad he had asked Jimmy to replace his long-expired makeup after all, and took the time to carefully accent his features with practiced movements.

Scott stepped back, regarded himself in the mirror, and smiled. He might not feel like himself most days anymore, but right now he certainly looked like the silver-tongued rogue who was used to charming his way into whatever he wanted.

He placed his hat on his head at a jaunty angle, and with a final glance in the mirror his only regret was its lack of feather. Making a mental note to find a new one soon and taking a moment to savor the feeling of renewed confidence, Scott went to Fwhip's quarters and knocked on the door.

"Come in," Fwhip called out. Scott took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and walked into the room with his head held high.

Fwhip was pacing around, pouring over designs for some contraption or another, and occasionally stopped at his desk to make notations and calculations in the margins. Scott knelt before him and rested his hands in his lap, but instead of bowing his head he watched the king's every movement. Fwhip glanced up from his blueprints, then back down at them, then snapped his head back up to stare at Scott. Scott kept his expression as neutral as possible, but inwardly he smirked at the double-take.

"Uh. Good morning, Scott," said Fwhip, setting his papers on the desk slowly. "What brings you here?"

"Good morning, your highness." Scott did bow his head briefly in greeting, but raised his eyes again right away to meet Fwhip's eyes with a steady gaze. "I hope I'm not being presumptive by coming to see you, but I'm uncertain about some things and hoped you might provide some clarity."

"No, not at all. You're welcome to come speak with me whenever you wish," said Fwhip. "Uncertain about what?"

"You brought me here to be a companion to Jimmy in your absence," said Scott. "But now you're home, and even when you're busy he has his own duties to keep him occupied."

Fwhip was sharp, and Scott watched the contemplation in his eyes as he put together what Scott was asking and why. "And now you're wondering what I plan to do with you," he surmised. "That's a good question." He stepped closer, watching Scott with a smirk playing on his lips. "You're right, Jimmy has plenty to keep him occupied now, and I can do whatever I want with you. I could send you back to the mines if I wanted. Or maybe I'll keep you safe in the cage for the last few months, just to make sure you don't run away after all."

Scott couldn't stop his flinch at the thought, and Fwhip's smirk faded. "That was - even as a joke, that was out of line. I'm sorry."

"It's - it's okay," managed Scott. His heart was pounding so hard that he wondered if Fwhip could hear it, and he took a deep breath. Fwhip was only teasing him, and if he ever did seriously consider it, Scott knew Jimmy would have plenty to say on the matter. Never again, Jimmy had whispered reassuringly in his ear after more than one nightmare. You'll never have to go through that again. I promise.

Scott took another deep breath, relaxed the hands he hadn't realized he had clenched tightly, and let the tension fade away from his expression. It was a harmless comment about something that would never happen - especially if his plan worked out. Fwhip had brought him to the house in the first place because he'd had a use for him. Scott knew the best way to stay where he wanted to stay was to convince the king that, even if his original task had run its course, it was still worthwhile to keep him around.

He hadn't spent much time with Fwhip directly, but every time he had, there was something intriguing in the air between them and something enticing in Fwhip's gaze. Scott was good at sniffing out the possibilities in the way people looked at him, and he was good at twisting those possibilities in his favor, and he took a gamble now on the possibility he was confident lay in the way Fwhip looked at him.

"As you pointed out, you do have the power to do whatever you want with me. But I like it here." Scott dropped his chin ever so slightly, not enough to break eye contact but enough that he was looking up at Fwhip through his lashes. "Tell me, your highness," he said in a softer voice that purred with an unspoken proposal, "what would you ask of me, to earn the privilege of remaining here by your side?"

He could tell he was catching Fwhip's interest, and it was time to make a final move before leaving the decision up to Fwhip. Slowly, deliberately, Scott licked his lips and caught his bottom lip between his teeth before letting it go. Fwhip hardly breathed as he watched every movement, and Scott gave him a coy smile. He waited, watching Fwhip's mind whirl with the possibilities, and leaned into the touch when Fwhip took the last step forward and cupped his fingers under Scott's chin.

"That's a very bold offer," said Fwhip in a low voice.

"Offer? I'm sure I don't know what you mean," said Scott with a playful smile, and Fwhip's eyes glittered with amusement. "Like I said, I only wish to know what I can do to earn a place in your household. It's entirely up to you what to do with me."

"Is that so?" Fwhip leaned closer, and Scott's heart was pounding again, for a different reason this time. It wasn't even deliberate when his breath hitched and his lips parted, but he still took satisfaction in watching Fwhip's pupils expand at the sight. "Then what should I do with you, I wonder?"

"Anything you like," breathed Scott, and he wasn't certain anymore that his performance was still a performance. He trusted Fwhip, he realized, because he was a good man. He trusted Fwhip because Jimmy trusted Fwhip, and Scott trusted Jimmy. And with those layers of trust in place, the thought of willingly giving in to the power Fwhip had over him was making him lightheaded.

Scott hadn't sought an audience with Fwhip expecting to discover something new about himself, but he wasn't terribly interested in introspection at the moment. He was far more interested in the feel of Fwhip's hand on the back of his neck and Fwhip's mouth moving against his, and when Fwhip pulled back from the kiss Scott leaned after him with a whine of protest he didn't realize he made until Fwhip laughed.

"As much as it pains me to say, I have a deadline I need to meet," said Fwhip against Scott's ear. "We can talk about this more after dinner."

"I look forward to it," murmured Scott. Fwhip kissed him again before stepping back. Scott got to his feet and left the room, and even as the door shut behind him he imagined he could still feel the king's heated gaze on his back. He wondered if the evening's promised audience would be one on one, or if Fwhip wanted Jimmy involved in the conversation - and didn't that idea bring up possibilities that Scott absolutely wasn't going to consider at the moment, because if he did then he was surely going to lose the capability to think altogether.

Either way, Scott returned to his room with the satisfaction of having his doubts assuaged. There were seven months left on Scott's sentence, and as he looked upon the last short stretch of his imprisonment, he was certain now that it would fly by.

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#empiresshipping #flower husbands #fwhimmy #scwhip #canary in the gold mine au #file: storm writes things

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djpurple3 · 3 months

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his tears freeze when he cries, did you know that?

3k words, Empires s1, romantic scwhip (fWhip/Scott), vaguely canon compliant, set just before Scott leaves on his Elsa Arc. Full fic both on AO3 and posted below.

Tagged: kissing, crying, self-deprecation, abandonment issues, hurt no comfort, angst, winged Scott and fWhip, tragic romance.

Summary:

After fWhip's sister gets hit by Scott's newly developing and quickly out-of-control powers, fWhip has that sort of... gut feeling that everything is about to fall apart. He rushes to Rivendell to see Scott just in time - catching Scott as he is about to leave. fWhip now has to try, in vain, to convince his love to stay.

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fWhip has that… that gut sort of feeling. When Gem had shown up, allegedly ‘feeling fine’ but corrupted to all hells and back, and talking about Scott, fWhip had a terrible sort of feeling. Now, coming to a quick landing in Rivendell’s main plaza, he sees he was right to assume the worst.

Scott, wings half-unfurled, stares at him, caught off guard, and… painfully scared.

When fWhip dares to approach, he has to swallow hard, stomach twisting itself into agonising knots, because as he draws closer, Scott shies away.

“I’m not mad,” fWhip says quickly. He raises his hands in a show of peace. “Not anymore, I promise.”

“It’s not just that,” Scott says, and he doesn’t even look at fWhip, and that hurts too. “It’s… no. You should go.”

“Go?” fWhip stops five paces away, hands still in the air, and he tries to smile, tries to joke it off. “But I just arrived! And it was such a long journey, too.”

“You may use one of my people’s homes to rest,” Scott says. He’s really trying to brush fWhip off. And, fWhip notices, Scott’s… not in his usual robes. He’s in warm weather gear – not sleek and well-fitted royal garb, but thick and sturdy. Scott is… he’s in runaway clothes, isn’t he? “I will send word for you.”

“Scott.”

“You can’t… I-,” Scott cuts himself off with an aching sigh. “We can’t, fWhip.”

And Scott finally looks up. His eyes are wide and bright and exhausted. fWhip can’t help but notice that Scott’s been clutching his hands tightly together over his stomach this entire time. It’s a stark contrast to the usual way Scott would gesture as he spoke.

“You should understand better than anyone else.” Scott’s lips purse, and he looks away. “…How is she?”

“Well, she’s…” fWhip looks away, too. Scratches the back of his head as he fumbles for his words. “She went looking for a cure herself, and got corrupted, actually, but… I took her to Katherine, who managed to purify her. She’s good as gold, now, …if not a little shaken.”

“Corrupted?” Scott echoes, horrified, and he steps back sharply, hands flying to his mouth. “Even Gem? E-even the… the Great Wizard of the Crystal Cliffs…”

“Hey. We both know that it doesn’t matter who you are,” fWhip says sharply, but the way Scott’s face falls tells fWhip he’s accidentally hit a sore spot. “But! She got help! We defeated it together.”

fWhip does his best to smile, now and takes a half-step closer.

“And besides. This,” fWhip gestures at Scott, now, up and down, “isn’t that. You’re… you’re you, Scott. You didn’t mean it. She knows you didn’t mean it. I know you didn’t mean it. It… it’s okay.”

“It’s not!” Scott’s hands tighten, and the air gets several degrees colder even as Scott takes a jerky step back that spreads frost from where his boot makes contact with the ground. fWhip fights down the urge to shiver, and holds his ground. “I… you’re not listening to me! I can’t control myself, fWhip. A-and I don’t… I don’t want to keep hurting people.”

And fWhip watches in quiet horror as tears fall down Scott’s face. But… but they aren’t normal tears. They’re frozen on his cheeks, long before they hit the ground, and bounce on the cobblestones with little tink-tink-tinks.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Scott says, and he reaches out to fWhip for a moment, just a moment, before he catches himself, and tucks his hands away again.

fWhip involuntarily makes a distressed sound in the back of his throat, before he has a thought, eyes lighting up. Scott watches him in confusion as fWhip frantically pats down his coat.

“Look, wait, hang on,” he tells Scott, before he finds the right pocket and pulls out his work gloves. “These- these babies? Designed to withstand the extreme temperatures of my forge.”

And fWhip doggedly closes the distance before Scott can argue, pulling his gloves on, and takes Scott’s hands in his. Scott flinches, gasps, his hands flex as frost spreads across fWhip’s gloves, but fWhip just raises a shaky eyebrow, and smiles.

Scott’s eyes widen.

“See?” fWhip squeezes Scott’s hands, coaxing him along, and finally, the tension leaks from Scott, his shoulders uncurl enough to stand tall again. “You can’t hurt me. It’s alright.”

“…Your technology is marvellous,” Scott says, musing. He gently turns fWhip’s hands over so Scott can inspect the gloves closer. “And you’re sure I’m not…?”

“Can barely feel a thing,” fWhip assures him. “You’d really need to start pumping the temperature up or down to damage these.”

In truth, he hasn’t actually really tested these for cold. But they certainly work for heat. Wearing these, he can handle magma and, to some degrees, even lava with his hands. Which is more where his expertise lies. But they’re holding up more than fine right now. fWhip squeezes Scott’s hands again, even as the frost thickens. He still doesn’t feel the cold.

Scott looks up now, finally meeting fWhip’s eyes… and, gods above and below, he looks tired.

“I’m about to go,” Scott whispers. “I’m… I’m going.”

“Where?” fWhip asks, voice equally hushed, worried, and he immediately steps closer.

“Somewhere. Anywhere. Away from here. I have to.”

“You… Scott.”

“I have to,” Scott’s still crying, his frozen teardrops are almost piling around them now. “I need to learn to control myself. And I need to do it somewhere I won’t freeze someone half to death. O-or worse.”

“And you?” fWhip tilts his head, studying Scott’s face.

“Oh,” Scott says, his best attempt at playful, and he even does his best to give fWhip a smile. “The cold doesn’t bother me.”

“…H-how long will you be gone?”

“Long enough,” Scott says, and his hands tighten around fWhip’s for a moment. “I… I don’t know if I should even…”

“You better come back,” fWhip cuts Scott off, brow furrowing as the pain in his chest threatens to seal off his throat. “You better. I’ll hunt you down if you don’t.”

“fWhip,” Scott says He sounds in pain.

“Scott,” fWhip matches his tone. “You… you can’t go. …I-I’m sorry. I hate seeing you like this.”

“Like what?” Scott says, the bitterness in his tone taking fWhip aback, and he watches as Scott’s lip curls. “A menace? A danger? A threat?”

“Scared,” fWhip says, earnest and simple. “In pain.”

He moves in, now. fWhip catches Scott in a full-on hug, and wraps his leathery wings around both of them, best he can.

“You better come back,” he half-growls, hugging tighter as Scott tenses up with a sharp gasp. “We… gods, Scott, we were just beginning to work.”

“I know,” Scott says, and he sounds so… mournful. “Maybe we just weren’t meant to-”

“You better not finish that sentence either,” fWhip cuts him off again, voice so dark, and fWhip looks up sharply to meet Scott’s ice-blue eyes. They’re practically pressed chest-to-chest now. Scott’s shaking in his arms. “I… you can’t… I can’t… I’ve already lost so many, Scott, you…”

fWhip closes his eyes for a moment, before he finally says, “I can’t lose you too.”

Scott’s face crumples, and he watches fWhip with a devastated expression. fWhip takes his opportunity to lean in and place a kiss on Scott’s cheek.

“fWhip!” Scott reprimands him, and snowy owl wings push draconic ones aside. Scott physically shoves his way out of fWhip’s arms.

“What?” fWhip tries not to sound choked up even as he stumbles back a few steps. “You can’t say you don’t want it!”

“I’ll freeze you!” Scott cries, and fWhip’s eyes widen as frost spreads from around Scott’s boots, seeping deeper into the ground, edging closer to fWhip. “I’ll kill you, fWhip, and I don’t want to. You’d be safer without me!”

Scott puts his head in his hands, turns away, wings circling himself, drawing in tight.

“Everyone would be safer without me,” he whispers to himself.

fWhip chokes on his tongue. He can’t breathe. He needs to say something, anything, but he can’t. The words won’t come.

He takes one hesitant step forward. Then another. He tries to take care not to slip on the ice. Scott doesn’t look up until fWhip is directly in front of him again.

“…fWhip?”

fWhip reaches out, now. He reaches out, worn leather gloves reaching out until he cups Scott’s face gently, so gently, and fWhip tears up as he watches Scott’s eyes widen. fWhip guides Scott’s head down, not all the way, just until their foreheads are resting together, and fWhip closes his eyes, staying there. It’s almost too much to bear.

“I can’t stop you,” he says, low and slow. “I know I can’t. But promise me, Scott. Promise me you’ll come back. I need you to come back.”

“I can’t promise that.”

“You can.” fWhip’s face scrunches up, eyes screwing tighter shut. “…Who’s even looking after your people, when you’re gone?”

“My advisors,” Scott says. “I’ve left them letters; they know what to do.”

“…The Grimlands will lend aid, if they need it,” fWhip’s voice is so soft. Scott’s touch is much colder than it used to be, but fWhip isn’t scared of it. He likes it, even. It… fWhip runs too hot for his own good. He could even get used to this, grow fond of this, …if Scott would stay.

“Thank you,” Scott whispers, and somehow, he’s the one who shivers. “…fWhip.”

“Scott.”

fWhip hasn’t opened his eyes yet. He can’t. If he opens his eyes to see that fear on Scott’s face, it’ll… make this far harder. Too hard. fWhip wants to remember what Scott looked like with a smile. What he used to look like before the demon. Before everything.

“What are you doing?” Scott whispers to him.

“I-I’m trying to remember you happy,” fWhip replies honestly. “So it’ll hurt less when you’re gone.”

Scott’s breathing hitches. Under fWhip’s touch, he shudders. Slowly, fWhip feels the familiar warmth and softness of being encircled by feathery wings, and he melts into it.

“Don’t go.” fWhip can’t help but beg.

“I have to.”

“Then kiss me,” fWhip finally opens his eyes, and takes in Scott’s tears, the fear in his eyes, the way his mouth is hanging a little open, the way he’s drawn tenser than a bowstring, and knows he won’t be able to erase how Scott has changed, has been changed, by all of this. “Kiss me, one last time. Please.”

Scott gasps again, and fWhip watches Scott as he openly wars with himself, fear and longing clawing at each other until Scott gasps for air, and-

“I…” Scott’s hands almost make it to fWhip’s face, but they falter, fall a little, and lightly cup his throat, over where his scarf is, like Scott can’t bring himself to touch fWhip’s bare skin.

“Lean in,” fWhip whispers. “Close your eyes, if it helps. I just… Gods. Give me something to remember you by, Scott.”

Scott caves. fWhip watches it happen, watches it play out across Scott’s face. Scott caves, and closes his eyes and tilts his head down, hesitant, waiting. fWhip is the one who cups Scott’s face again to guide the kiss.

Scott’s lips are cold. fWhip doesn’t let it throw him, just presses their mouths together insistently, tries to press everything he can against Scott’s lips to try and let Scott know he has something to come back to.

When they part for air, Scott doesn’t open his eyes for another moment.

fWhip leans back just a little to start undoing his scarf, and he slips it off, loops it around Scott’s neck, and he’s fumbling with doing up the knot when Scott’s eyes fly open.

“I… I can’t take this,” Scott tries to argue, though he makes no move to stop fWhip.

“I have others,” fWhip tells him sharply, doing up the knot a little too tight as his nerves spike. “Remember me.”

Scott touches it softly, his expression twisting. “Red’s not my colour,” he whispers.

“Means you’ll have to give it back.” fWhip drags him in by the scarf now, and kisses him again, pressing his words to Scott’s lips. “Means you’ll have to remember me.”

It seems to be yet another touchy thing to say to Scott – his lips part like he was going to say something. fWhip almost takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss then and there, but he doesn’t. He… doesn’t think Scott would forgive him if he did.

They break away. fWhip just doesn’t want to take his hands off the elf before him, yet. When he does, Scott will go, and it’ll all be real.

“Is there any last things you need?” he asks instead, makes himself ask instead.

“No.” Scott’s hands fall away to hang at his sides.

“You have enough food?”

“I do.”

fWhip smooths down the scarf. …Scott isn’t wrong about red not being his colour. It just kind of washes Scott out.

fWhip still thinks he looks beautiful.

“…Be safe?”

“You too,” Scott says earnestly. “…If there’s an emergency, send an owl. They’ll find me.”

“I will,” fWhip promises.

And the conversation lulls. It’s come to an end, fWhip can feel it has, but he doesn’t want it to. But Scott steps away now, leaving fWhip’s hands trailing behind him. Snow has started to fall around them, slow and soft.

It settles on Scott’s hair, gleaming in the sun.

fWhip wants to say all sorts of things. Things like I’ll miss you and things like I love you. He doesn’t say any of it, though, because… at the end of the day, he knows Scott knows. And he knows it’ll only make this hurt more.

fWhip knows he can’t stop him. Despite how badly he wishes for the contrary, fWhip cannot stop him. And he knows Scott wouldn’t cope with fWhip following. Even if fWhip wanted to, he …can’t. because even outside of the ‘powers’ thing, it isn’t really, politically, the best of times to leave. But fWhip won’t tell him that. He’ll just have to… to try to cover Scott’s tracks for him.

Scott now leaves five, now six, now seven, now eight empty paces between them, before he smiles, so sadly, so scared, at fWhip; and… there. In that moment right there, fWhip knows that this expressionwill be the face that will haunt his dreams from now on.

“Goodbye, Count fWhip,” Scott whispers. It’s almost as soft as the snow falling around them, but it falls louder than an avalanche on fWhip’s ears.

fWhip swallows hard.

“Goodbye, King Scott,” is all he can whisper back. Helpless. He feels helpless, watching Scott extend his wings, put his back to fWhip, and hesitate only once before he takes off.

Scott circles once, overhead. What gold he’s still wearing catches in the sunlight, as does his hair. fWhip has always thought his hair looks particularly fetching in the sun. It makes his heart lurch now. With a few mighty beats of powerful wings, Scott is soaring into the distance.

Just like that, he’s …gone.

fWhip stays rooted to the spot until Scott’s out of eyeshot, and then a little longer, just for good measure. Snow settles on his hair, his shoulders, his wings. fWhip stays, still as a statue, frozen in place until he can’t stand the cold anymore, and he cracks. fWhip wraps himself up in his wings, finally giving in and shivering as he rips his eyes away from the horizon.

He feels barer – colder – without his scarf.

As fWhip drops his head, gritting his teeth, something sparkling catches his eye. fWhip makes a sound – a sound that’s a little too close to a sob to play it off, before he leans down, and scoops up a handful of Scott’s frozen tears. He cradles them in his hands, watching them glint in the morning sun.

They are small and delicate in the palms of his thick, dark, leathery gloves.

…It’s only morning. He has a whole day ahead of him. Buildings to build. Councils to meet with. Treaties to negotiate. Paperwork to finish. Inventions to fix.

He…

H-he needs to replace his scarf first.

fWhip stands, turns sharply, and spreads his wings too, closing his hands around the tears. They don’t even seem to be melting, yet. And they don’t the whole way home, and not even when he takes off his gloves and cups them in his bare hands, where they sit, freezing and lonely, against his skin.

fWhip leaves them on his windowsill, in his bedroom, by his bed. He puts his back to them as he huddles by the fire long enough to stave all the cold off, replaces his scarf, though he gave Scott his favourite one. …It was bloodsheep wool. Sausage had made it for him, years ago.

…It’s one he can probably never replace, nowadays.

Eventually, fWhip rises to his feet, making to leave, to try function for the day, and ends up turning back to the window. fWhip can’t help but notice with detached curiosity and buried pain that, even in the full sun, Scott’s tears aren’t melting.

Well then. Good to see fWhip’s got something to hold onto, too.

So, fWhip doesn’t let himself cry. fWhip plasters on his best smile, and leaves, trying to put some fake pep in his step as he goes to meet up with his civil planning committee to try suss out the last of the preparations for their newest building project, and does his best not to slam his bedroom door behind him, as all he can do is to… continue on with his life, and hope for Scott to come back.

#empires smp #empires s1 #empires fwhip #empires scott #scwhip #empiresshipping #empires fanfic #empires smp fanfic #empires fic #djpurple3's writing yo #i havent posted fic in so long. and it's rarepairs. B)#it's 2am im going to bed now

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