#thancrien

[crossingbard]

Thancred's tone was resigned as he spoke, "We all decided to stay behind, and that included Minfilia. That...that was not you. ...I should not have said it was.”

“We…we're a little…messy, aren’t we?” Dorien asked, resting his cheek on a fist, sadness pooling in his sidelong glance.

“It seems as though that is the case…”

“Ironic…” He muttered, and Thancred gave him an inquisitive look, so he added, “We had avoided romance because we both worried of the mess, yet it did not even take that.”

The rogue sighed, “Yes, well. I don’t know of you, but I think it has been a little messy for far too long. Would you like to tidy up with me, dear?”

Dorien finally smiled, battling against a bittersweet sadness he said, “I would love that, Th—dear.”

[crossingbard]

What Makes You Different Ch. 1 Misunderstandings & Agreements

ao3

Summary:

Change is a nasty, insidious thing. One second a seed is planted, then the next time you look there sits a tree. It's hard to notice a large shift when things seem to change daily.

Chapter Summary:

Takes place after A Copper Hell.

Thancred and Dorien try and figure out where they stand with the other.

--------

Dorien Aurifort was…unsure of how he was still alive. At this point, he was pretty sure it was the grace of the Fury, or the Twelve, or whoever that he was still kicking. He chuckled as he thumbed through the hefty tome situated at his side. Tracing a symbol from the book with his finger, he pressed his glowing palm to his face, reducing the bruise that was blossoming in addition to the swelling.

He didn’t regret it, though.

More than being happy to help defend that woman, he was pleased to do something about the merchant who accused her of the crime, strictly because she was a refugee. He smiled smugly to himself, knowing that the bastard was put in his place by two foreigners as he continued drawing the same symbol and pressing his hand to different aching body parts. It would not remove the soreness that he would feel tomorrow, but at least he wouldn’t look like he had his ass handed to him.

Still, despite his pride, there sat another, heavier feeling. It was the one thing he truly disliked about adventuring.

To most people, “adventurer” was synonymous with “hero.”

Heroes. Selfless. Brave.

He was not any of those. Maybe brave, though stupid is another word for bravery, he thought. No, he helped the woman because he was her once. He remembered looking to those in the crowd and seeing them all turn away. He helped people for the life he did not have.

Selfish was more accurate.

He was not mad about the word, nor did he feel as if it was self-deprecating. He did not even start adventuring to save people. It was just something that happened. He was aware that karma was not something that happened on its own, past experience had made it more than evident, so if he had to save people, he would only do so for people who deserved it. Good people. He did not save equally, and he was okay with that.

He was stopped in his thoughts and his work by a shadow eclipsing him. Upon looking up, he met a familiar pair of brown eyes hooded by a shock of white hair.

“Well, we meet again!” The voice called, grinning down at him.

Despite the soreness, despite the frustration, despite himself, Dorien grinned and jumped up, throwing his arms around the other man, squeezing him tight. He hadn’t seen his friend upon his return to Ul’dah a week ago; in fact, he had not seen him since before he left Ul’dah at the Sultana’s banquette. The hug was brief, and when he released him, he cleared his throat, “Apologies, my friend. I’ve had quite the day and forgot myself.”

His face was red, and Dorien felt a pang of remorse for pushing at his boundaries, “Oh, worry not, I saw the last bit of that exchange just now, so I have an idea. I must congratulate you on not fainting this time. …Though I am starting to become suspicious that you may only wait until I am around to conveniently lose consciousness.” He smirked and chuckled, taking a seat on the fountain’s edge where Dorien had been.

He had to bite back a laugh, “Why in the Hells would I pass out for your attention?”

The other man did not look up at him as he pulled out a dagger, wiping it on his sleeve in an attempt to shine it, “Why, so I may save you, of course.” He flicked his eyes up, meeting his, “You know I’m always a gentleman.”

He wanted to shove him into the fountain. How one man could contain so much audacity, Dorien could not understand. Wide-eyed, he just stared at a loss for words, a sound between a gasp and a laugh escaping him. “Gentleman, my ass. If I were looking to get your attention, I would do so in ways that do not endanger my own life.” He took a seat next to him and laughed.

“You wound me, sir! I only come here with compliments for you, and this is how you treat me?” He had his hand placed over his chest, a dramatically hurt look on his face.

Dorien arched a brow, unable to hide the intrigue written on his features, “You sought me out?”

This seemed to catch him off guard, as he said, “I. Ah. Well. Yes, actually. It mostly concerns those visions of yours. You have been having visions, yes?” He explained to the mage that he had been keeping an eye on him. Not personally, but through connections. These same connections he wanted Dorien to meet. He emphasized their leader, a woman who seemed to experience those same visions, and how working together could aid him in understanding them. “We are of the firm belief that you will be able to assist us, but be not mistaken in that we will aid you, as well. You once described your goals as being “Ul’dah’s best delivery man?” Well, why stop at Ul’dah?” He laughed, “In addition, I am hardly the only scholar among the lot, and assistance with research is always quite appreciated if that too interests you.”

He found himself speechless. Overwhelmed with gratitude and confusion, he sat there, eyes fixed on the buildings ahead of him.

“You need not give me your answer now, mind you. Simply speak with the mistress of the Quicksand, the ever lovely and youthful Momodi. You simply need to tell her that ‘The Scions of the Seventh Dawn have found their man.’” He clasped a hand on Dorien’s shoulder, and he was hyper-aware of the weight, the warmth of his skin, and the thumb, pressed lightly onto his collarbone.

Without thinking, he blurted out, “Why me, though?” A flash of shame went through him at that. He was not one to speak so candidly about…well, anything. He could not fathom why he would be chosen, though. How rare were these visions that they drew any amount of attention, that they made him valuable?

A confused look from the other man, then a look of…something, Dorien could not quite place. The hand on his shoulder squeezed it lightly before moving to his upper arm, the thumb whose presence he could not ignore tracing his collar bone. “You enjoy asking me difficult questions; I’m starting to think. It is not just your visions that caught our eye.” His hand moved off his arm, despite Dorien willing it to stay. His words were quieter now, a little softer; the sarcastic bite effectively removed as he said, “You possess a set of admirable traits. Simply from observation, you played the part of envoy to perfection—confident as a man on a diplomatic mission should be, yet unfailingly courteous to your betters. And when your travels led you into the midst of danger, you faced it without so much as a flinch. You, my friend, are quite a marvel, and I confess to being somewhat in awe of you!”

He had to temper the flush overcoming him at the words, “Now, Thancred—"

He held up a finger with his free hand, stopping him, “Ah, but my lavish praise continues. Most of all, I was struck by your readiness to aid those in need, even when words were all the reward you could expect to receive. Know that such selflessness is a rare thing in this day and age.”

It felt as though a bright coin was shining in the dirt. Awe, but it was due to a trait he did not possess. It was based on a lie. He wanted to hold onto the false statement, he wanted to be selfish, but this kind of selfishness felt wrong.

Everything about this exchange was leaving him conflicted. He was no longer enjoying himself as stress and doubt ate at him. Thancred must have seen it too, or maybe he had been silent for too long; he could not tell. Still, that hand, so strong and sure, was on his upper arm once more. His thoughts, once spiraling, stopped, and the whirlpool transformed back into small waves, lapping at the shore, buffeting but not consuming. He pushed through the rest of the negativity with a fake smile, ever the actor, as he said, “Now, my friend, you are flattering me.”

A squeeze from him and through it surged reassurance and comfort. “Flattery implies embellishment. I speak from the observations I have noted.” The hand left once more, and he waved it as he continued, “Now, I claim not to know the inner workings of that fascinating mind of yours. What I do know is that I have found that a person’s character shines through their actions and not so much their reasoning. Intentions matter little when a scene only exists in memory.”

Despite himself, he found the tension left him. It was as if the touch drew it from him like how he channeled through conjury. Thancred had a way of easing the mage’s mind like that. He was not one to share his troubles, showing others his weakness. Still, short of their conversation that night at the Quicksand, he had never explicitly mentioned any concerns, yet his friend still found a way to ease his unspoken worries. It was different, it was nice.

He bumped him with his shoulder, rolling his eyes, “Now, sir, you risk making me more prideful than I already am. You’d best mind your tongue.”

Without skipping a beat, the hyur looked up at him, pulling his gaze. “Oh? Pride from the truth is nothing to be ashamed of. What might you do if I refuse?”

He leaned in. If prideful is what Thancred wanted, he could be that. “Well, I suppose I may have to mind it for you.” A twitch of the mouth, a smirk.

His face so close, Dorien saw the very brief look of surprise, which elicited the pride he sought. He spoke quietly, yet his tone was combative, “As if you could. Many have tried, yet none have succeeded.”

Ilms away. He was but ilms away. He wanted nothing more than to meet this challenge.

Then Thancred backed away, and Dorien quickly tempered the disappointment. He had to remind himself that this was a game. He had to remember that and cease getting lost in hope. Still, from a source he could not quite place, part of him was happy that it would never be more than a game.

The bard cleared his throat, looking away. “I feel as if I should make you aware. Despite your offer, tempting as it may be, know that I do not seek a romantic relationship at this time. I apologize if I set any sort of expectation, but I would regret it if you were to think I was leading you on. This is especially true if you were to join the Scions.”

The elezen blinked. Once. Twice. Each of the words washed over him, and he had to understand them individually before processing what was said as a whole. He did not notice the look in the other man’s eyes. He did not see how he sought words to soothe his friend.

He did not notice any of that. Instead, Dorien let out a chuckle and so matter-of-factly said, “Oh. I was not looking for romance.”

Silence draped over them like a sheet.

Though it felt like an hour, the quiet minute had them both staring forward at nothing, a look of serious contemplation mirrored on their faces.

Then Thancred laughed.

Then Dorien laughed.

------

They laughed for a while, both surprised at how much the situation had been misread. Thancred Waters sat up and leaned on his arm, braced against the fountain’s edge when he could finally compose himself. “Well, what a situation we have found ourselves in. Truly, you seek not romance?”

His friend was still laughing, curled on himself as he shook. The smile pulling at the hyur went unnoticed upon seeing him like this. When his friend sat up, he shook his head, still chuckling as he spoke, “Oh, absolutely not. No, my intentions were not so honorable, but I appreciate you thinking they were. …You, though, you found them tempting?”

The bard froze, realizing what he had said earlier. “I. ah.”

He had not intended his feelings towards the other to slip like that. To think he would be so careless as to test their relationship thusly. It…did work out, though. He couldn’t necessarily argue with the results.

His friend straightened, one hand flying to his mouth, the other pointed at Thancred. “You were! You fiend. Here I thought you had been simply humoring me this entire time.”

His brows knit together as he looked up at the other man, “Now why would I do that?”

“Why, to get in my good graces, of course. There are benefits to befriending Ul’dah’s best delivery man, you know. It especially worked out for you knowing that I have these visions or whatever that you seek.” Green eyes side-eyed him, smirking, though the excitement they were holding back was noticeable.

“You are quite prideful, you know.” Thancred rolled his eyes.

A laugh, “You were the one telling me that the truth is worth taking pride in.” Then, faster than he could process, those eyes that he had been so fixated on, those freckles that dusted his cheeks, were close to him, closer than he had anticipated, and it took all the training he had ever been through not to fall into the fountain behind him.

In the space between them, he could feel the warmth of their breaths mingling, and in that instance, he considered mingling more than that.

This time Dorien backed away first, flashing a grin, “Then what might this all be, my friend? Neither of us seeks romance. My intentions have been laid bare before you. Whatever you say, know it will not change things; I simply seek to understand where your head is at in all this.”

He spoke so unceremoniously as if he was simply asking to borrow some parchment.

Thancred sat up this time, not giving the other an opportunity to knock him into the water behind them. “Well, as I see it, it need not be more complicated than it appears. If a casual arrangement is what you seek, I would be more than happy to consent to such a request. However, before you continue with anything, I believe I issued you a challenge.” A confused look from the other man and the bard chuckled as he stood, “You said you would ‘mind my tongue,’ should my praise of you continue. Well, know that I had no plans on stopping.”

Dorien opened his mouth to interject, but Thancred was already walking, waving his hand in circles as he spoke dramatically, “I feel as though I have already spoken at length about your character, but there are points I have not mentioned, such as how your way with words exceeds no others, save my own maybe. Your passion burns as brilliantly as a fire, much like the twilit sun on your hair. When I saw you at the Sultana’s banque—ah!"

-----

Dorien Aurifort felt the shame and embarrassment flaring up his neck, across his cheeks, and even to the tips of his long ears. People were watching Thancred make an absolute fool of himself and then looking at him, the person who was the target of those words. Moving faster than he thought himself capable, the mage grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him into the shadows under the stairs next to the Quicksand. He turned on his friend, a scowl on his face, and when he saw the smug grin on the other man, he wanted to scream. “You need to stop.”

“I was not planning on it.” He raised his brows and smirked, “Mind you, you were the one who threatened me, and I am simply seeing if you will hold true.” He looked up and met his gaze, only ilms away once more. “Oh. Have I mentioned your eyes? They were easily one of the fi—”

The mage put his hands on the other’s cheeks and pulled him forward, pressing his lips to Thancred’s mid-sentence, if only to get him to stop.

While the words did, in fact, stop, so did all the thoughts in Dorien’s head. All the embarrassment and the spite, now replaced with want. Teeth scraping each other, biting the other’s lips gently as Dorien moved a hand to his waist. One of Thancred’s hands entwined itself in his hair, and the other rested on his chest.

Dorien was selfish, and he was not mad about it, nor did he feel as if it was self-deprecating. He knew this as he took in the man’s scent, remembering it fondly from the small handful of times he woke up from a vision in his arms and from when they had acted out this exact scenario months ago. Months of this song and dance, and he had the man under him now, kissing him.

The hand entangled in his hair, loosening the strands from the braid, moved to his cheek, a soft caress from calloused hands. A thumb pressed the corner of his mouth, trying to coax him into deepening the kiss, but this was his challenge; he would not let it be that easy.

They went deeper into the shadows, and Dorien felt the cool stone on his arm before it met the other’s back. Thancred let out a gasp, and it was that lapse in focus that he was looking for. He took the opportunity to take a breath before letting his tongue slide into the other’s mouth.

The sound that came from him…it was quiet, he tried to stifle it, but Dorien knew he had succeeded. He pulled back for breath, looking into the light brown eyes staring up at him, wanting more. He let his hand trail along the other’s jawline, tilting his head up just a little more as the mage leaned down and kissed his neck, small, brief pecks following the shape of those tattoos of his. Thancred’s breath was shallow, and Dorien could hear his heart beating as he pulled, ever-so-lightly, at the skin, not enough to mark, but enough to draw another, louder sound from him. He smiled into the crook of his neck and whispered, “I could mind more than that if you would like. You need only say the word, dear.”

“I think heading inside might be a…prudent decision.” He said breathily, and Dorien snickered at that. He had moved his hand back to Dorien’s cheek, pulling him into another kiss, quick, brief, a promise for more.

The elezen smiled at his friend and moved to make his way out from the shadows. He was about to step around the planter when he saw Thancred move quickly behind him, placing a hand on his ear.

He knew of linkshells; he did not have one, too much money, not enough people to contact. It sounded like it was from that group he mentioned, and he could feel his stomach sink.

“I. No. Yes. Are you quite sure? Right now? I was in the middle of something--…I understand; I will try and intercept the shipment before they make it back.” The frustration in his tone was mildly entertaining, but more than that, there was a disappointment too. When the hand fell from his ear, he cursed under his breath before giving his friend a sympathetic look. “It seems I have been summoned. Emergency, they say.”

The elezen moved back over to him, smiling and shrugging, trying to act as nonchalant about the ordeal as he could. “Are you sure you aren’t using this as an opportunity to leave?”

The look he received was deathly serious as Thancred replied, “Absolutely not.” He sighed and moved around Dorien, “Let’s call this…check for now. I will be preparing my response for the next time we meet.” His eyes said, ‘hopefully very soon.’

Dorien laughed incredulously, “I was unaware that this was chess now.” They both moved from the shadow, and the mage sat on the planter that had shielded them from the public eye twice now. “I suppose if I must acquiesce to your departure, I will. Be not mistaken though; if you are, in fact, using this as an excuse, I will find you.”

“Mayhaps try and find me anyways. May just be faster.” He laughed and bowed before darting off once more.

Dorien was selfish. He knew this, yet he watched the man he had been trying to sleep with for months run off into the desert beyond the gates.

What an idiot he was.

[crossingbard]

What Makes You Different Ch. 4 Intimate

ao3

Summary:

Change is a nasty, insidious thing. One second a seed is planted, then the next time you look there sits a tree. It's hard to notice a large shift when things seem to change daily.

Chapter Summary:

Thancred is upset. Thancred continues to get progressively more upset.

Through clenched teeth, Thancred Waters let out a long, drawn-out breath.

These headaches were getting worse.

He rubbed at his temples, shutting the book he had been staring at for hours. When he brought his hand back down, he reached for the black crystal necklace that draped his neck, gingerly touching it as the weight rested against his sternum. He doubted that it had any medical properties, but he found the action soothing, nonetheless.

He knew the headaches were likely due to the fact that he was working too hard. Unfortunately common when most of one’s nights are spent reading by candlelight. Still, he had to show that he could be useful. He had to show that he would not let them down again.

Which would be easier if he could think straight.

He set his jaw and looked across the tavern of the Waking Sands, rage boiling within him like a kettle on a stove.

How anyone was expected to get anything done in here was nothing short of a miracle.

Thancred shook his head, thinking that perhaps field research would be more appropriate…before he shouted at someone. He glanced towards a group of newer Scions, a miquot’e, and two hyurs as they ribbed and joked, and he forced himself to hold his tongue.

Field research would definitely be a better idea.

Thancred turned on his heel and made his way to the door, set on leaving without speaking. He was in no mood to talk. He was in no mood to see anyone.

This is, of course, why someone had almost hit him with the door as he tried to leave. He took a step back, a scowl impossible to hide, looking up at a familiar face. Dorien Aurifort jolted and looked down at him. Seeing his friend, the elezen grinned, and his eyes shone brightly as he spoke, “Ah. Thancred.” He moved aside to let him leave first. “Were you on your way out?”

His features softened, and he found himself at ease in a way he had not felt in a while. Despite his previous unwillingness to speak, he made an exception for Dorien, a brief exception. “Yes, I am not able to find much of anything here. I fear more field research is in order.” His head throbbed again, and he forced back the wince.

As Dorien walked with him, he intertwined his fingers behind his back, a slight bounce to his step, “Are you looking to be out for long?”

You always ask after me. Do you not have anything better to do than wait around?

The thought came unbidden, and he kicked himself for it. He enjoyed Dorien’s company. He liked that he kept an eye out for him. Yet, that fire, that spark, did not dim, and he could tell he was getting frustrated, meaning it was time to take his leave. “I do not know presently, I’m afraid.”

The mage looked at him, the soft smile, typically reserved for when they were alone, resting on his features. However, they were not alone; this was the middle of the Waking Sands, and people could see Dorien favoring him.

“Let me know if I can help, alright? I can keep an eye out for leads while I am on my own missions if that would help.” He spoke quietly as if hiding the fact that he pitied how incompetent he was from the others under a mask of kind exuberance.

Do you not think I am capable of finding my own leads? I don’t need your help. I doubt you would even know what to keep an eye out for.

His head throbbed again, and he did not catch himself before he winced, ever-so-slightly. He needed to leave. He looked up and saw that the elezen caught it, his attention to detail unparalleled as always.

Dorien’s features clouded with worry, and Thancred found himself equal parts touched by the concern and furious from the pity. The elezen reached out but stopped short of actually touching him as he whispered, “Are you alright?”

He dared the mage to lay a hand on him. To take things just one step too far—No, he didn’t. Why would he think that?

“Quite alright, my friend. Simply a headache. I have a plan for it, though, so fear not. Anyroad, I must be going.” Thancred moved passed the elezen without another word, and when the other man called out a farewell, he waved over his shoulder, not looking back.

He really should just mind his own business. He meddles far too much.

He let out another long breath, shaking his head. Maybe some quiet would help the headaches.

--------

It did not.

He felt as though most of his time had been spent outside the sands at this point, and all he got for it was more missing time.

He could not say it was…entirely missing, though. If he thought hard about it, he could recall. It was almost as if he was watching himself go through the motions as an audience member versus being the one to do it himself. Not only that, his short-tempered thoughts had not ceased. If anything, they were louder, angrier.

He did his best to avoid the Waking Sands, knowing better than subject others to his foul mood. No one deserved that.

Just because he didn’t vocalize the thoughts doesn’t mean they didn’t cross his mind. Even he found himself shocked at some of them, feeling guilty that those words would come to him at all.

Yes, he probably should stay away until he got some rest.

--------

You fight too hard. Is this not a much better alternative?

Not particularly, if I am being entirely honest.

He realized now, though it was far too late. He watched Thancred Waters move about the Waking Sands, getting ready to deliver a false report to Minfilia regarding the whereabouts of the Ascian that was standing in front of her.

He had tried so hard to fight but found it fruitless, so now…he watched.

If his headmate let him, he would drift into unconsciousness, for he found he was tired of watching the people he loved accept a lie day after day.

You know, I can get away with this because you wear that smug, nonchalant mask. It’s so easy to pretend to be cheery, and people fear confrontation far too much to consider any alternative. They do not even care about my supposed missteps, for they have written you off.

He did not answer.

The door to the Waking Sands opened, and Thancred’s gaze glanced over. A familiar face—Dorien Aurifort saw him and grinned, and he felt cold with dread.

When he was still him, albeit the him before the anger, the him that was fighting this beast, he had made a point to spend more time with the mage. He had initially been avoiding the base in hopes that people would leave him be, but Dorien sought him out instead. He offered Thancred a hand when he was going through the worst of it.

After his negligence almost killed the man.

The taffy was a small treat, but it did mean a lot to him. It showed him that Dorien was there.

Dorien, who wore a mask of his own. Dorien, who could ease his unspoken worries.

Indeed, he would see that something was off. He would say something. This would be different.

Are you sure about that? You put a lot of faith in him, considering.

Considering what?

Considering those you have known for years took no notice. Would you like to see?

He fought his captor, trying to gain control. The headaches were better than this. At least he could control his own words, even if he could not control his thoughts. As always, though, his attempt was all for naught. He stared on, frustration brewing as his captor laughed at him.

Dorien ran up and leaned over. He was…positively glowing with excitement at seeing him, simultaneously warming and depressing Thancred’s heart. “It’s been a minute, dear.”

“It certainly has.” Not-Thancred went back to his pensive stare forward, and Dorien looked on, confused. “Pray do not concern yourself with my welfare. My current investigation has yielded some curious results, and at present, I am pondering how best to proceed.”

Dorien’s face betrayed no emotion. Instead, he took a seat on a stool next to him, looking down at the hyur man. “Will you be here for long? I was thinking of leaving in the morning, and if you—”

“No, I will be leaving.”

“…Alright. What did you end up finding?”

“I will let you know after I relay the information, Minfilia.”

That familiar, newly acquired rage overwhelmed him again when Dorien chuckled at the statement, “What, do you think I will go and tell her before you can?”

Not-Thancred did not respond.

Dorien let out a quiet but long breath and stood, smiling once more, but instead of the excited look about him earlier, it was cordial, almost political. “I only meant that a sounding board of sorts might help you organize your thoughts. I apologize for taking your time, dear.”

He retreated after giving a small bow, and Thancred was furious.

Why would you do that?

Why, because all mortals are the same, Thancred. The Warrior of Light is no different. It is best time you learn that.

--------

He would say that maybe a week passed, though it could have been more. He stopped paying attention. He was tired of watching this farce. He was tired of the snide remarks from his mouth, though not from him. They didn’t know that, though. They let him take time for himself, and Thancred had found that he was alone, even when he was home.

He felt hopeless.

They were to meet up with Minfilia today, and he knew he would have to watch himself as he lied to everyone’s faces. Lahabrea certainly would not let him sleep through that, the prick. Until then, though, he could rest. He did not need to know.

Oh, but you should really be here for this.

Piss off.

Come now, before I make you watch by force.

He let himself tune into the world around him again and faced Dorien. Dorien with his tired smile and sad eyes. The dread started enveloping Thancred, seeping straight into the core of his being.

Leave. Him. Be.

Dorien had his arms folded, elbows resting on his knees as he fidgeted with the sleeve of his tunic. They were…outside? Yes, they were behind the Waking Sands, near the pier.

The mage had his legs dangling over the water, kicking absentmindedly as he gathered his thoughts. His voice was cordial, professional, distant as he spoke, “Thank you for taking the time to speak with me.”

Thancred, though not Thancred, smiled and nodded, “Of course, friend. You know I always enjoy your company.”

He faltered again as he muttered, “…Right…”

It was such a blatant lie, and it was apparent how much Lahabrea delighted in watching Dorien struggle. His first moments of control were spent rooting around Thancred’s memory as if it was a trunk in his proverbial attic. He examined everyone Thancred cared about, looking for strengths, weaknesses, and how much they mattered to him. The Warrior of Light was just a toy to Lahabrea.

The mage sighed and pleaded, “I will just come out and ask it then. Are you alright, dear?”

So, he did notice. He noticed, and he decided to speak up about it. Which meant that…maybe he would say something, perhaps he would realize. He felt a sliver of hope for the first time in ages.

“I am perfectly fine. I have just kept to myself.” His voice said matter-of-factly.

Dorien’s expression sat pensively, and he said, “I do not—Hm. I—…You’ve been acting differently. We hardly speak, and when we do, it feels short. Upset. I do not…think…I am the only one who has drawn this from you, but I wanted to speak with you about it before anyone else. If I have done something to you, pray just tell me, alright, dear?”

“I don’t actually think you would care for that.” His body rested his head on a fist, looking unconvinced.

“I am asking. I value our friendship; I do not wish to lose you over something I may be able to fix.”

Thancred wanted to fight back, but he was too tired. It had been too long.

It was hopeless.

His body let out a breath through his teeth before continuing, his expression unchanging, “Our friendship?” A scoff from his mouth. “I’ve been giving you space because I think you are in need.” His friend looked as though he had been struck, “We agreed that this be casual, but you have been acting nothing of the sort.”

He whispered, “Oh. I—”

Thancred’s voice spoke slower. His tone was less sharp, though a dull blade was still a blade, “I am not blind to the fact that you seek me out specifically. You treat me differently than those around us. That is nothing short of people even coming to me and asking about all this. I fear this casual arrangement has gotten far too intimate. You say you wish to preserve our friendship. Can you honestly say that is all you seek?”

Dorien did not speak for a while. When he did, it was raspy, distant, “I apologize for overstepping your boundaries.” His voice sounded forced. Every word was said like it was written for him to read aloud.

Thancred’s voice was quiet, feigning an apologetic tone even, as he replied, “Yes, well, now you know. I would appreciate if I could have some space.”

Thancred watched in despair as Dorien stood from his seat and reached towards him, though keeping a measured distance. “Of course, d—Thancred. I can do that. Feel free to reach out whenever you choose to. I will…work on my…I will do better.” He turned and left, keeping his speed even, his shoulders squared as he left.

That should stop his ceaseless prying. You should be thanking me for this, you know. Was it not you who requested this extend not beyond mere "friendship?"

Thancred did not reply.

Lahabrea did it.

His last bastion. His last beacon of hope.

Now, he was alone.

[crossingbard]

What Makes You Different Ch. 3 Realizations (Dorien)

ao3

Summary:

Change is a nasty, insidious thing. One second a seed is planted, then the next time you look there sits a tree. It's hard to notice a large shift when things seem to change daily.

Chapter Summary:

Dorien is not a fan of how distracted he has been.

A series of shorts from throughout the collection.

Notes:

Other fic references Short 1: During Late Night Revelations Short 2: After A Royal Reception Short 3: Before Business & Pleasure Short 4: During Business & Pleasure Short 5, 6, and 7: After Business & Pleasure

Dorien Aurifort was doing it again. He was talking far too much

He knew this, for he always did when passionate about a subject. He had gotten…better at catching himself as he aged, but alcohol was great at loosing the tongue, and the pair had been drinking for a spell.

“Ah, I have been overeager in sharing. We can change the topic if you want.” He smiled graciously, hiding the shame of forgetting himself again.

In front of an incredibly attractive man, no less.

Thancred waved a hand dismissively, a broad smile across his flushed features, “Perish the thought. Admittedly, arcane history was not my source of study, but listening to you is delightful. Pray, do not stop on my account.”

His voice was kind, and he wanted to say it felt genuine, though it could have been wishful thinking. Regardless of his thoughts on the matter, Thancred asked him a follow-up question to a previous statement. It could have been the alcohol, but Dorien felt the tension leave his body as he answered, and the two continued their conversation.

--------

Dorien woke up the morning after the banquette within his room at the Hourglass. He knew well that he had not drank that much the night before, so wh—He then remembered his vision, flushing wildly when he realized that he likely passed out at the banquette in his honor. The elezen man got out of bed, noticing the missing duster but not thinking much about it as he made his way to the Quicksand.

He moved quickly towards the stairs and stopped when he almost tripped over a lalafellan woman—Momodi! Dorien opened his mouth to speak but was silenced by the proprietress, “What do you think you’re doin’ up? You should be lyin’ down, not running through my halls!”

Like a scolded child, he walked back to his inn room and sat at the small table. “…I fainted at the banquette, is that correct?” She nodded, and Dorien cursed under his breath for making a fool of himself, in public.

A sympathetic look flashed across her features, though the mage did not catch it. Taking a seat across from the elezen man, she said, “I wouldn’t worry about it too much. I hear Raubahn covered it up quite well! Most people who talkin’ about it are trying to figure out what story he could have possibly told you that bored you so.” She laughed, but he didn’t feel relieved.

“…Did he bring me back here?”

“Oh no! Your good, good friend brought you back.” Lowering her lids and cocking her head, she smirked at him.

He did not notice.

He thought of the Captain of the Sultanguard with whom he spent most of the night, confused but tickled by the image of the lalafellan man trying to organize that feat. He did not doubt him, but it would certainly be an amount of work.

She did not let him visualize that for long before letting out a drawn-out breath, “You can be a lil’ dense sometimes, dear. Let’s try this, ‘He is equal parts beauty and nerve. He can drive me mad, but he is also sooooo lovely! Do you have anyyyyy innnforrmaaatioon on him?’” Her tone was teasing as she stared at him, eyes like daggers.

His eyes widened, and his face reddened, “You cannot be serious.”

That must have been the reaction she was looking for, for she started cackling like a demon, “I have never been anything but serious! He was dressed sooooo well last night too. Did you not see him? Because you should’ve.”

“No. I saw him.” He buried his face in his hands, shame consuming him.

“Perfect, so I don’t need to go into detail about how he straightened up his hair with his loosened tie and an unbuttoned shirt. Oh! And his face when he brought you in—”

“No! You do not need to tell me that! I have heard quite enough.”

She continued laughing, then tapped the table when she had finally composed herself, “Not like I wasn’t going to, but he requested I come and check on you in the mornin; I don’t think he’d ever admit it, but he was worried about you. I’ll let him know you’re doin’ alright, though. …Anything else you would like me to tell him?”

He pulled his face from his hands and shook his head, feeling utterly defeated, “You can tell him that I appreciate his assistance and aim to repay his kindness when we next meet.”

She leaned forward, resting her chin in her hands, “Anything else?”

He scowled at her, chuckling, “Nothing at all, Ms. Matchmaker. Now, if I may, do I have your permission to continue my day?”

She threw a hand up dramatically, dismissing him as she hopped out of the chair, “I am just doing my part. You tell me you find him handsome and how you want to see him but won’t put in your own legwork.” Before leaving the room, she turned around, her expression softened, “I am glad you are well, Dorien.”

He ignored her previous statement and nodded, “Thank you, Momodi.” He called after her.

Dorien frowned and got up to change out of his dress clothes when she left. He went to remove the cravat and undo his shirt before realizing that it was already gone, the top few buttons of his shirt undone.

A flash of green on the armoire caught his eye, sitting atop his duster—when did he take off the coat?

He walked over to the articles and noticed a piece of parchment penned by an unfamiliar hand,

I know not when our paths will cross next. I am remised that I did not get to speak to the man of honor, but I suppose taking him to bed will have to suffice! I jest but know that I am impressed by your achievements and wish to congratulate you. I hope when you think back on them, you feel pride.

-Thancred

He read, then reread the note…several times. He then carefully folded the letter as he lifted his duster, nicely folded upon the armoire.

Someone…likely Thancred undressed him…partially…but…

He was certain he could not possibly be more embarrassed than he was at this moment.

That was the man he was trying to sleep with!

He did his best not to imagine himself being carried; the cravat carefully unfastened as he slid the duster from his shoulders.

He did his best not to imagine what he would have done if he had been awake.

His best was not good enough as he buried his face in his hands again and let out a muffled scream.

He…He needed to leave. He needed to speak to Raubahn or literally anyone else.

He packed the clothes away and stared at the letter he had left neatly folded. He swiftly picked it up and placed it into his journal, sealing it between two pages.

--------

Dorien sat at the table, smiling and laughing along to hide the unease of not quite fitting in. Around him sat the circle of Sharlayan scholars and the antecedent of the organization he had just aligned himself with. He could not help but feel a little out of place among the lot. They were formally learned, unlike Dorien’s primarily self-studied education. That was only for starters, too, as they had known each other for years.

He played the bystander, never speaking unless a question was directly asked when a familiar voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Now that you are so well-traveled, I am sure we would all love it if you regaled us with your exploits!” Thancred grinned and clasped his arm.

The hyur woman nodded vigorously, “Yes! Yes! I know that we saw you in Gridania, but I would love to hear what you liked about it! There’s the large tree in the central shroud, or! Maybe—”

“Maybe let him speak his own words, Yda.” The lalafellan man said to her. His tone was scolding but full of a sardonic warmth.

They gave room for the mage to speak, so he talked about his journey thus far. The evening continued, and Dorien noticed that if he ever fell out of the conversation, his friend was more than happy to find a way to rope him back in.

As the night ended, he felt less out of place. Maybe these Scions of the Seventh Dawn could be something to him.

--------

Dorien skidded into a dark alleyway, falling onto his knees as he tried to press forward. The road had iced over, and he could feel the cold biting his skin even through the layers of clothes. In a way, it all seemed familiar, though he could never really tell why.

All he knew was that he had to get out of here.

He had to leave.

He tucked the parcel under his arm and forced himself up just as a shout was heard in the distance, and so, Dorien kept running. He moved further into the darkness, hoping to find a safe place to tuck away, when he almost fell forward once more.

Splitting, searing pain blossomed against the back of his head, and he reached to see what had happened, pausing when he saw blood on his hand. Someone threw something at him.

The shouting got louder, and he knew he would not be able to hide.

The scene broke up around him, and it was as if the sun was cresting over the buildings. He looked on in confusion, knowing well that it was the early evening. That was when the mage remembered. It was a nightmare. The imaginary pain dissipated, and he relaxed.

He knew not where his dreams took him after, but he knew that he would not be reliving his darker moments tonight.

He was not sure for how much longer he slept. When he did wake, though, a warm hand rested on one of his, and he dared not move as he stared at it. He flicked his eyes up and saw Thancred sitting straight, eyes shut and smiling as he ran his thumb across the back of the mage’s hand. He indulged in the action for just a bit as he closed his eyes and smiled.

Still, though, hand holding was probably not part of the agreement. He smiled coyly as he intertwined their fingers and greeted his lover, deciding it was finally time to rise for the day.

When he released the hand to show that he was not looking to push boundaries, he felt…a little emptier.

How strange.

--------

“My late arrival nearly cost Dorien his life.”

“I failed him utterly. Just as I’m failing you all.”

Dorien’s hand hovered over the doorknob, his stomach sinking as he overheard Thancred speaking to Minfilia. He wanted to rush in and agree with Minfilia…to shake him and…hold him.

He was pulled to reality by someone calling to him. Minfilia seemed to stop them in their thoughts as he walked in, putting on his best face. He grinned at Thancred, who grinned back.

A couple of actors, the both, it seemed.

When Minfilia left the room, Thancred’s mask fell, and scorn colored his features. He told Dorien of the tempered abductees, and the grip he held on to his casual demeanor slipped as he blanched. The people he had been kidnapped with, those he commiserated with while awaiting certain death, only to overcome it.

Alone.

The grief of lost comrades was compounded by the grief for Thancred as he left and spoke, “Gods forgive me… How many more lives…? Louisoix would never have allowed this to happen. I have to do better…I have to be stronger….”

Alone…once again.

He took a seat in the empty office, not wanting to risk conversation with anyone, and stared forward.

--------

He had hardly seen the man in the days moving forward. He was instructed to take a break, so he spent most of his time shuffling about the Waking Sands. He was happy about the others coming through, but…he never really noticed how often Thancred was out until he stopped coming around, despite the Waking Sands being within his city-state.

When he did see him, every interaction with Thancred since felt clipped, short and formal, and he wanted to scream. He just…wanted to talk to him. He wanted to see him smile, he wanted to…

Maybe he could do something! Maybe a gift! That way, even in passing, he could offer his companionship.

He set forth as if this was a new mission and went to gather information. He found Y’shtola in the tavern and asked her about a favorite treat that could hold for a day or two if he missed him. She offered the information without fuss, something Dorien realized he was not used to.

Her tail flicked curiously as she smiled and said, “You are putting in quite a bit of work for him. I am sure he will appreciate it greatly.

“Oh…I just thought--is it much?” Doubt crossed his features. The mage opened his mouth to speak when Y’shtola stopped him with a shake of the head.

“No, no. Do not think too hard about it. You are a good friend, Dorien, and I believe I speak for all of us when I say we are so glad you are here.” She smiled as she shut the book she had and turned to place it back on the shelf.

--------

He did, in fact, think too hard about it.

Dorien stared at the box containing the taffy as if it would explode. Despite how modest the gift was, he was at battle with himself, trying to figure out if it was too much.

Maybe how much he was thinking about it made it too much.

Or maybe he was just thinking too hard about nothing.

He heard from Tataru that Thancred planned to stop by for a progress report today. This news was putting him at his wit’s end with impatience.

He hated how…antsy he felt.

It was a feeling that confused him. Antsy was something he was used to, but loneliness was also, so why was the quiet distressing him?

His time spent researching with Urianger objectively was no different than his time with Thancred. It was not as if he was touch-starved either. …Well, maybe he was, but he knew that was not the problem either.

So, what was it?

He left his room after deciding a walk would be a prudent measure. He was too nervous, and nothing good ever came from a frazzled mind.

Knowing every facet of oneself was the key to not speaking out of turn when one’s emotions flared up.

And his emotions were definitely flaring up.

He moved towards the door to exit the Waking Sands when the door opened before him, and he jumped. He noticed the shock of white hair that sat at eye level and almost shouted from the mix of fear and excitement.

He was excited about the gift, he told himself.

He was scared of…hmm…

He collected himself as he moved out of his friend’s path, “Thancred!” He smiled broadly, “I am glad I caught you. Could you meet me in the tavern if you have the time to spare?”

He looked apprehensive and glanced towards the door to the solar. However, this battle was brief as he nodded and gave a tired smile. “For you? I will make the time. …Were you not just on your way out, though?”

“Oh. I was just looking to get some air. I promise this will be brief, for I know you’re quite busy.” He turned on his heel and went back to the room he had just left. He stared down at the box, and the apprehension ate at him once more.

He should have taken that walk first.

He kicked himself for panicking so much over this. It was just candy…and a note.

He wrote it hoping that it would bring the bard as much joy as the one he had received.

Well, he didn’t know Dorien had kept that. …Was it strange that he kept it?

No, no…It was too much.

He pocketed the letter and walked to the tavern, meeting his friend hanging towards the back.

Dorien tempered the bounce in his step as he walked up to Thancred and held out the small box. He took it inquisitively, and when he opened it, his face lit up. “What do we have here? A lovely surprise from a lovely person. Is there an occasion I should be aware of?—Oh, are these the ones from the culinarians’ guild?” He ate one and chuckled, a contented smile on his face, and Dorien could not hold back the pride at his reaction.

“Ah, yes. Y’shtola told me that you liked them. There is no occasion. I just had some extra time on my hands and wanted to show appreciation. You have been there for me through much, so I wanted to thank you.” He smiled softly as he sat on one of the sealed crates.

Thancred had eaten another one and nodded. When he was able to speak again, a smirk sat on his lips as he said, “Are you sure you didn’t just miss me? You can just come out and say that, dear.” There it was. The sarcasm, the nerve, Dorien had missed it more than he realized.

He huffed, “There is no reason it cannot be both.”

Thancred shut the box and returned the soft smile, “Well, know well that the feeling is reciprocated. This was lovely. Alas, I must report to Minfilia, but rest assured this will be enjoyed. This means more than you know.”

His face shot red as his heart fluttered—wait, what? He…he nodded and smiled sheepishly.

How incredibly uncharacteristic of him.

He forced the strange feeling down, smiling as he asked, “Will you be heading out again?” The response was a sympathetic nod, and the unusual fluttering stopped and replaced itself with an equally unusual emptiness. “When are you set to depart?”

His brows knit together for an instant, and Dorien worried that he had pushed too far. He prayed that he did not sound desperate for the company; he just hadn’t seen him in a while. He looked up and smiled, “I should be able to get away with leaving on the ‘morrow. You mentioned you were going on a walk; would you care for some company?”

He stomped down the eagerness like embers from a spent campfire. “I will always accept an offer for your company.”

Thancred chuckled and went about his business, leaving Dorien sitting on the crates. The mage looked forward at the wall, the flush he had been reigning in taking over full force as he gripped the edge of the box. He needed to figure out why he was so incredibly volatile. He was sick of getting distracted.

On the other side of the tavern, Urianger pulled out a small journal and quickly jotted down something before smirking and putting it away. It seemed that Y’shtola’s theory might have some merit to it after all.