#I specked him as a force mage and a blood mage

[laniardraws]

I ran out of tag space, but I just wanted to add that my warden also drank Avernus' Juice, whatever, uh, was in there. Why? Because she acts first and thinks second XD

pspspsps people with mage ocs pls tell me in the tags what kind of magic they do most (favourite schools or favourite elements or whatever) and if it came naturally or if they chose to study it and if so why

[biocrafthero]

Prompt: You are a literal god who pretends to be a d-list superhero. You’ve grown extremely attached to the people of the village you protect. You get news that an epic battle is taking place near your village and would most likely destroy it…

———

You've never really been the flashy type, admittedly. Even if your domain contains immense powers—rot and decay, notably—you prefer to exist under the guise of the "Bone Mage." It sounds silly, but you embrace it wholeheartedly, even if your fellow gods laugh about it.

You don't do anything special with your powers, simply carrying around a sack of bones you found laying around in the forest in order to construct things. Sometimes you make the strangest weapons your enemies have ever seen, and other times you animate small constructs that resemble the various critters you adore. It doesn't require a lot of effort on your part, but it keeps your chosen village at peace and scares off any villains-of-the-week that happen to stumble across it.

You have history with this place, a history you would never admit to. A small shrine that sunk to the bottom of the old well, a relic that has been standing for over 200 years. You would rather not be held on the pedestal of a deity, but you can never turn down a gift.

Right now, in this moment, you simply exist as a strange man who lives in a shack on the outskirts of town. A wooden mask hangs on the wall for when you're called to action, and your shelves are filled with various things that the local population has given to you as thanks. You wear gloves to hide how your skin slips from the bone—just one of your various physical oddities that accompanies your nature.

You're happy here; it's a thought you commonly have as you sip on your coffee during these cold autumn mornings. You turn on your radio to the news, adjusting the antenna slightly while you listen.

"-- Here we can see the Soaring Spade taking another blow from the Dark King's newly-forged blade. The battle looks nasty, but we can trust our dashing hero to pull through--"

Ah, more of this again. Soaring Spade is the fresh-blooded hero from the city, and Dark King is an old colleague of yours who went rogue. The two of them are probably having a rough time picking each other apart right now.

"You best get away from me, young one!" The Dark King shouts—he's always been like that, loud enough for the newscasters to hear him, his presence commanding. "The Helm-splitter will cleave you!"

"Not if I pry it from your hands, villain!" Soaring Spade shouts back. Their voice sounds young.

"They go in for a swing," the newscaster commentates, "and--"

A bright flash of light comes from the window. The earth shakes, and you nearly fall out of your chair.

After gathering yourself for a moment, you rush to the window and look outside, only to see a pillar of smoke bellowing from one of the city's skyscrapers, a wake of rubble leading away from it and through several blocks. You can't help but stare with widened eyes at it all.

"They were blown east, and with such force!! So this is the secret that the Dark King's weapon holds!"

You hard heard in passing that he was up to something, but you had no idea it was something as devastating as this.

"The Dark King is now chasing after Soaring Spade!" The newscaster turns away from the mic; "We need a better angle, try following--"

Something shoots out from some of the far-off trees, closer than you expected. Is that...?

Quickly, you take your mask off the wall and grab your sack of bones, rushing outside. You see a speck off in the distance, Soaring Spade rushing back to the city with their power of flight. A glint of light comes from the sky nearby them—

Another bright flash. You feel the wind rushing past you this time, but you hold your ground. Soaring Spade slams back into the earth.

The direction they're headed in, at this speed and power... You feel your stomach sink.

Quickly, you rummage through your collection, grabbing enough bones for a small construct. You animate it in your hand, and instruct it to run to the village and warn them. It leaps off of you and scurries off, heeding your commands.

You run in the direction of the battle.

You cannot recall the last time something like this happened here, if there had been anything at all like this before in the first place.

Weaving your way between fallen trees and scattered rocks, you arrive at Soaring Spade's impact site. They look up at you in confusion, groaning as they attempt to sit up.

"Who... who are you supposed to be...?" They ask.

That's right, most A-list heroes haven't heard of anyone below a C before. "They call me the Bone Mage," you answer.

They let out a pained laugh, trying to muster a smile. "You picked that name yourself?"

You simply shrug in response. "It just kind of stuck," you say. Approaching them, you help them up off the ground. You take notice of how they're bleeding and how they clutch at their ribs. Their flashy costume is torn up.

A loud slam resounds nearby, the Dark King making his entrance as dramatically as you remember. His black armor glints in the sunlight, and the great sword—the Helm-splitter—radiates with energy.

"I won't let you get away from me," he says, "not when I'm this close to victory." He twirls the blade in his hands like it weighs nothing.

"You'll never win...!" Soaring Spade spits back. They try taking a step forward, but stumbles; you catch them before you hit the ground.

The Dark King turns his gaze towards you. "You... you must be one of those nobodies I knew, back when I used to be for the light!"

You would feel offended at him not even remembering your name, but that's the least of your concerns right now. "Look, I just need you two to stop for a minute and take this somewhere else at the very least—"

"No!" He shouts. You can hear a helicopter approaching, likely the reporters you were listening to earlier. "This is my fight, and I decide where it takes place!"

Soaring Spade needs medical attention immediately, and you really need them both away from your little village as soon as possible. Your eyes travel to the Helm-splitter.

"Where did you even get that sword, anyways?" You ask.

"Oh, this?" He says, lifting up the blade to display it to you. "I forged it myself, the process a thousand years old, the weapon itself imbued with magic! Isn't it such a work of art?"

You can't help but glare at him. He likely found methods scouring around the ruins of an old cult that worshipped one of your fellow gods. The weapon itself isn't godly, thankfully—weapons can only attain that status and power if they're made by a god themself—but the method to create it was probably derived from it. The hero in your arms would not survive another direct blow from it, and the village you protect would be obliterated.

You gently set down Soaring Spade. "What... what are you doing?!" They ask you with concern in their eyes.

"Don't worry about me," you tell them. You place your sack of bones on the ground, as well—you're probably going to need both hands for this.

The Dark King laughs at you. "Ha! You're going to challenge me? Someone as simple as yourself should be thinking of your own skin instead."

"I'm not," you say, straightening out your back. "I told you to leave, and you refused. I will defend this place."

"Then die for it!" He yells. Raising Helm-splitter above his head, he rushes at you, and brings it down.

You catch it in your hands.

The force and weight of it makes your knees buckle and it cuts holes in the palms of your gloves, but you hold it in place. Your eyes glow through the holes of your mask.

"Wh... what?!" The Dark King gasps, bewilderment in his tone.

You push the blade away from you, forcing him back. He looks down at the blade, and back up at you. "That's impossible..." he mumbles. "You shouldn't... you couldn't...!"

"You really need to learn about the people you decide to fight," you say, taking off your gloves. "You could never pick your battles."

"No mere mortal could stop the blade, not even the person who forged it themselves!"

"That's too bad." You stomp your feet on the ground as you leap into a casting stance, your collection of bones flying out of the sack and swirling around you.

A large construct forms, and rushes towards the Dark King. He raises his sword, spending out an arc of energy towards it in an effort to defend himself. The bones scatter, but quickly reform the beast's body.

This isn't anything special, just something to buy you time. You remove your gloves—you might as well, since your hands are already showing through the holes—and assemble a two-pronged spear in your hands.

You reach out to puppet the construct; it shifts into a serpentine form and begins to coil around the Dark King, who holds his sword so that he may attempt to strike its head.

He holds still for a moment too long, and you throw your weapon.

Your aim is straight and true, and it catches him by his waist. The strength you throw it with carries him through the trees, cutting through the wood effortlessly. A shockwave of air blows against you like a storm, and you look to Soaring Spade to check on them as it rushes past you. Their eyes are simply transfixed on where the Dark King once stood, frozen in absolute shock.

When the wind settles, you command your construct again, this time so that you may stand upon it. It brings you the whole distance to the struck-down villain, slithering and snaking it's away across the ruined trees and boulders.

Upon arriving, it deforms back into its miscellaneous parts, hovering around you. The spear you threw keeps the Dark King pinned to the ground; he looks up at you with fear in his eyes. You pick up the sword that sits just out of his reach.

"What... are you...?" He struggles to get out.

"I'm nobody special, honestly," you say, adjusting Helm-splitter in your grip. "I'm just a D-list hero who wants to protect their village, nothing more."

Focusing your energy, you channel your power through your hands and into the blade. You hasten it's decay, rust eating away at it and growing across its body like ivy—the power that courses through it crackles and sparks. After a moment, you snap it in two without much effort. The energy that once radiated from it dissipates instantly, and you drop it to the ground.

The Dark King stares at the now useless piece of metal with widened eyes, before shooting up to look at your rotten hands. "You... you can't..."

"I can't what?" You say, walking towards them. "Cant do that? Can't beat you?"

"You can't be..."

You crouch down next to them, holding your face close to theirs. "I can't be human?"

He cowers.

You can't help but laugh. "What would give you that idea?" Looking up, you still see the news helicopter from earlier flying overhead; you give them a small wave. "I told you to leave, so I'm making you leave. I'd rather not be bothered again on a nice morning like this."

You stand up, leaving the Dark King pinned to the ground. The police will come in and arrest him shortly, even if you're a bit far from the city right now.

It's... tempting to go all-out on him right now. You could decay more, you could decay him, but you'd rather not with all these eyes on you. Your domain is powerful, but you are also merciful.

Something begins to rush towards you, and you hear the wind it causes before it shows up. Turning, you see Soaring Spade making their way over. They begin to tumble a little, and you prepare to catch them; thankfully, they stick the landing by your side.

"You're really in no state to fly right now," you say.

"I'll be fine, I've had worse injuries before," they try and reassure you, but you have a feeling they're lying. They look at the Dark King, their expression unreadable. "I'm impressed you beat him so fast! You sure you're just some nobody?"

You shrug. "I'd prefer to keep it that way, honestly..."

"Well, suit yourself! If you want to, I can send in a good word for the agency that sponsors me."

"No, really, I'm good." You can't help but appreciate their generosity, though.

They look towards your hands, eyes widening. "Are you okay...?" They ask, gesturing at your rotting body.

You hide your hands behind your back. "It's just... a side effect of how I got my powers."

"Ah, I see. Happens to the best of us, I suppose." The look off into the distance, before turning back to you. "You said you're the Bone Mage, right?"

You simply nod.

"Cool! I'll keep you in mind if I'm ever in the area, since you seem like a nice guy. I bet whoever you're protecting must adore you."

You smile. "I guess you could say that."

———

Original publish date: April 26th, 2024

Ko-Fi (tips appreciated but never expected!)

[cryptids-and-muses]

Blood and Bonds: Chapter 1

Ao3

The field was lit by the last rays of daylight. Just enough so Sypha could see the warlocks doing this perfectly. There were 10 or them, all in matching cloaks. Most of them gathered around the stone altar in the center of the field. The altar sypha was tied to.

“Oh Valefor! Duke of Hell! Come forth with your many heads and many limbs….” the warlock chanted as sypha struggled against the bonds tying her to the rock. They limited her magic but she struggled anyway, refusing to just give up.

“You’ll regret this.” She spat, but the cultists paid her no mind.

Trevor thrashed, restrained by two of the cultists, “If you so much as touch her I’ll rip your arms off and shove them up down your throat!” He shouted.

The head warlock didn’t listen, instead rising an ornate dagger to the sky, “Oh lord of thieves! I Beseech thee, accept this offering! Fill our bodies with her strength! Fill our veins with her blood! Fill our minds with her knowledge!”

A hiss escaped Adrian as he tried to stand. Struggling against the invisible weight pressing down on him. The mage in front of him smirked, and Adrian felt the weight increase. His vision blurred as he tried to breath under it. Tried to do anything.

Sypha tried to call her magic. Tried to slip her hands out of the chains. Hell, she even tried to kick the man leading the ritual. But nothing worked. The head warlock’s chanting reached a climax, “Valefor! Steal this offering’s power and make it our own!”

He brought the knife down.

Sypha screamed.

Something in Adrian snapped.

Trevor heard a snarl and the room exploded into chaos. A flurry of movement Trevor’s mind couldn’t keep up with. Just a red blur and the sounds of an animal attack. Claws tearing through flesh. Screams. The wet sound of bodies hitting the floor.

Then, just as suddenly as it started, everything went still, and Trevor could see the aftermath of whatever just happened. Blood drenched every corner of the field. Limbs and other bits of gore were scattered around in some grotesque display. The two men who had restrained Trevor were heaps on the floor. One had been torn open from collar to stomach. His intestines hanging limply outside of his body. The other’s heart had been ripped out, along with several bits of rib that had gotten in the way. But Trevor barely noticed. All his attention was on Adrian.

If he could even call the thing in front of him by the same name.

He stood by the altar, at the center of the carnage. His white shirt had been stained dark red, and was speckled with chunks of gore. Some of it even hung in his hair. Bits of flesh hung from his claws, still posed to strike at a moments notice. And his face…..Trevor felt nauseous looking at it. There was no humanity there. No concern or recognition. No trace of the man he loved at all. His lips were curled into a snarl, exposing bloodied fangs. His lips and chin were smeared with the stuff. Solid red eyes stared at the corpse at his feet. The man who’d stabbed Sypha. His throat was torn out, and around the wound were the tell-tale impression of vampire teeth.

Trevor’s hand fell to the morningstar, “......Adrian?”

There was no response.

Trevor's grip on his weapon tightened.

But then Adrian blinked, and the red cleared from his vision. What happened? He’d been pinned and then he heard sypha scream and then....

Rage.

He remembered rage. Like nothing he’d never felt before.

But everything else was blank. A sea of red and adrenaline.

He shook his head, trying to clear the remaining fog. That’s when the smell hit him. The smell of blood hung thick and choking in the air. Adrian looked up in panic, and finally got a good look at his surroundings. His eyes widened at the carnage laid before him. The butchery.

He staggered back.

What. Had. He. Done.

Adrian covered his mouth. His hand came away wet. He realized there was blood on his lips, on his fangs, that he could feel it sliding down his throat-

He fell to his knees and vomited. Bile and freshly swallowed blood splattering the grass below him.

Sypha knew something was wrong, but the world swam around her. The only thing she could make out clearly was the searing pain in her stomach. Her boys, she needed to get to them. Something was wrong and she needed to find them. She tried moving, but heat shot through her body, making her cry out.

“Sypha!” Trevor ran to her. He could see the blood soaking into her robes. She whimpered as he tried putting pressure on the wound. “Shit,” they needed to do something, fast. He looked over at their third, who was still staring in horror at the destruction around him.

“Adrian!” Trevor snapped, this time more forceful. They didn’t have time for this.

Trevor’s voice broke Adrian out of his spiralling. He looked over at the altar and it hit him. Sypha . He scrambled to her side. Those horrible chains were still around her wrists and ankles. He snapped them, and tried to not think about how much easier it was than usual.

Trevor looked around the field, “We need to leave.” There was a brief hesitation as he glanced at Adrian, “Can you carry her?”

Adrian was shaking. He ran a hand through his hair, god it was in his hair, but nodded. Focus on now, on what he needed to do. He could worry about what he’d done later. He scooped sypha into his arms and began to walk back to the town they were staying at. Pointedly not looking anywhere but ahead.

Trevor didn’t let go of sypha’s hand. He was silent as they walked, unable to get the image of Adrian with blood red eyes out of his mind.

------

It was silent as Adrian tended to Sypha in the cramped inn room. She fell asleep part way through, Adrian continued to clean her wounds. Trevor watched him from across the table while holding sypha’s hand. Neither met each other’s eyes. The tension in the room was palpable.

Eventually Adrian puts the cloth down, and lets out a shaky breath, “She’s going to be fine.”

Trevor nods, finally letting go of her hand. The silence stretched on.

“Are you going to tell me what that was?”

Adrian looked at the floor, “I don’t know.”

Trevor’s jaw tightened, “You killed ten people in the blink of an eye. You bit a man’s throat out.”

“I don’t know!” He shouted back, he hugged himself, “I’ve….I’ve never lost control like that before. I didn’t even know I was capable of that.”

Trevor sighed, “Do you remember what was going through your head?”

“Barely. I just remember sypha screaming. Then everything went red.” Adrian didn’t meet his gaze.

That oppressive silence fell again. This horrible distance between them. It took a while for Trevor to build up the courage to speak again, “I still love you, and I swear to god I always will. But.....”

Adrian gave him a sad smile, “But you can’t trust me.”

Trevor opened his mouth, then closed it again. He could still see specks of gore tangled in Adrian’s hair.

“It’s okay,” Adrian looked at the floor, “I can’t trust myself either.”

It was painful to see him like this. So distraught and scared, but Trevor forced himself to keep talking, “We can’t just ignore this. Pretend like it can’t happen again.”

A sob tore out of Adrian,”I can still fucking taste him. Can feel his blood giving me strength. I feel like a monster . If this happens again….” He was shaking, “I-I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

Trevor took Adrian’s hand, “Don’t worry. I won’t let you.” He gulped, “If this happens again-“

Adrian’s eyes snapped to Trevor, “No.”

“But-”

“ No.” Adrian squeezed Trevor’s hand, his still teary eyes full of determination, “I know what it's like to have to kill someone you love. And I refuse to put you or Sypha through that. I would take myself out before I made either of you do it.”

Trevor’s throat was dry.

But what if, he wanted to say. What if you’re so far gone I don’t have a choice.

But he didn’t, he just stared at Adrian with sad eyes, “Okay,” he pulled the dhampir into his arms, hugging him tightly, “Okay.”

He wanted to say something reassuring. To tell Adrian it would be alright. But He couldn’t. So he stood there, holding Adrian as his love cried into his shoulder.

[yououui]

Kurogane opens his eyes to a place that he assumes must be purgatory. There’s darkness around him, interrupted by specks of glowing light that he cannot find a source for, and though he feels like he is standing, he can’t feel anything beneath his feet. 

So, he died then. Well. Hopefully the others made it to a safe world.

But then, in front of him, one speck of light grows a bit brighter. He sees a young boy, a face he saw in a memory. Kurogane assumes it is the mage, his mind projecting some of the last things he saw in his dying moments. Gold hair, cut and clean, face round with health and youth and dressed in warm clothes, the child looks nothing like he did while stuck in the pit.

The light grows, and it’s then that Kurogane sees that the child is not alone. Lying beside him, their head in his lap, is a man. A man with an identical face to the child’s, changed only by age and the patch that covers one eye.

“You’re...?” Kurogane voices without meaning to.

The child looks up at him and smiles, says quietly, “Yuui doesn’t dream much.”

Ah. So this is the real Fai. 

“...Am I dead?” Kurogane asks for confirmation. His voice is flat as he questions; he doesn’t fear death, and if it had to happen to keep the others safe, then that was the price he’d pay. If he’s in the same place as the real Fai, then surely it must be so. As he realizes it, he’d like to say he has no regrets, but the man lying in Fai’s lap proves that wrong. Fear not for his own soul begins to bubble up. If he’s dead, what will happen to...?

“Not yet,” Fai says quietly, his voice light and able to quell Kurogane’s thoughts immediately. “Just dreaming.”

Kurogane frowns and walks closer to the boy. There’s something under his feet now; it’s like water, though he doesn’t feel wet, rippling with each step. He kneels when he’s close enough and looks at Yuui. Fai’s small hand is stroking his brother’s hair in comfort. This boy, he’s a dreamseer. Was? Kurogane isn’t quite sure what’s happening, but he isn’t surprised. Fai and Yuui’s powers were so incredibly powerful, after all. Could it be possible that they could even surpass death itself? Or was this happening because Kurogane was so close to the edge of death, Fai was able to meet him here?

Kurogane doesn’t vocalize his curiosity. “He... doesn’t dream?” He asks instead.

Fai shakes his head solemnly. In his lap, Yuui’s brows pinch together like he’s in pain, his lips trembling. Somehow, he looks just as young as Fai in that moment, just like a scared child. “When he does,” Fai says as he places a hand over his brother’s forehead. “They’re just... nightmares. And I can never find him in the dark.”

Kurogane copies Fai and lays his hand over Yuui’s forehead as well, engulfing Fai’s. After a moment, Yuui’s lips part and the furrow of his brows smoothes out in relaxation. “...He’s alive, right?” Kurogane asks as he pulls his hand away. He’s quiet when he asks to hide the tightness in his throat.

Fai smiles at him. “Thanks to you,” The boy says. He runs his small fingers through his brother’s hair. After a moment of silence, he comments, “You don’t dream much, either.”

Kurogane looks up from Yuui to quirk a brow at the boy. “You’ve been trying to find me?” He asks, and Fai smiles like he’s sheepish. He seems sensitive, empathetic. If he and Yuui could have grown up together, Kurogane is sure that he would have been the quieter of the two. Kurogane shrugs eventually. “Part of my training. I never sleep deeply enough to dream.”

He doesn’t mention that, like Yuui, he also tends to have nightmares on the few nights he does happen to dream.

Kurogane wonders, then, why he is dreaming now. As if able to read his thoughts, Fai says, “Your body must be very tired.”

Kurogane blinks and looks down, and for the first time since waking in the Dream World, notices that his left arm is missing. Right. The blood loss and shock would be enough to keep him unconscious for days, he reckons. Here, though, there is no pain.

“Do you regret it?” Fai asks as he regards Kurogane.

“No,” Kurogane answers immediately, looking back at him. “I don’t regret anything I’ve done to keep him alive. Even if it means he’ll hate me.”

Fai smiles at Kurogane, and Kurogane feels an odd, familiar sensation, like he has been reunited with a family member. “He doesn’t hate you,” Fai tells him. “He never did.”

Yuui’s body becomes engulfed in bright white, and in the next moment, he’s vanished. Left behind where his body was are more of those specks of light, drifting slowly away.

“Ah,” Fai says with a frown. “He woke up.”

Kurogane looks at the boy again. He never met Fai, not really, yet deep in his bones is the need to protect him. It’s too late for that, though. Bitter regret replaces that need, regret for something he could have never hoped to change.

“Did you know?” Kurogane asks the child. “Did you know what would happen to the two of you?”

Fai is quiet for a moment as he thinks about it. “I didn’t begin seeing in my dreams until I was locked in the tower,” He explains, and though his voice is young, there’s an unspoken age behind it. “It was all very confusing, at first. Just flashes I had to piece together. But I saw Yuui, out of the pit and all grown up. I saw him lonely and in pain, trying to hide behind a fake smile. Then, I saw him happy. Really happy, and smiling so bright... But then I realized, no matter what I saw, I wasn’t there. And I knew that if Yuui was ever going to reach the day when he could truly smile... I couldn’t leave there with him.”

There is no remorse behind the child’s words. A longing, perhaps, to have gotten the chance to live with his brother, but no regrets. If anything, he is happy that his sacrifice let his brother live. 

“He hasn’t gotten to that point yet,” Fai says suddenly, though he smiles knowingly at Kurogane. “He hasn’t been smiling honestly. But he will, very soon.”

Kurogane can’t help but smile at Fai, just a small thing that comes with his quiet sigh. He has an urge to ruffle the boy’s hair. “You’re a strong kid, y’know that?” 

Fai grins, toothy and lopsided, dimples pressed into chubby cheeks. His smile is a bit different from Yuui’s, his eyes a bit brighter. Kurogane wonders, however, how similar their smiles will be when Yuui is honest with his feelings.

“I’m happy I could finally meet you, Kurogane,” Fai says sincerely. “I’ve always wanted to say thank you for all you’ve done. And all you will do.”

Kurogane gives in and does ruffle his hair this time. Fai laughs and shakes his head to fix the mess Kurogane caused. In all the memories he was forced to see, not once did Kurogane ever see either of the twins smile like this. It’s good, he thinks, that at least now they can both be happy.

“I know you can’t tell me what’ll happen,” Kurogane says to Fai. “But when you saw him smiling... where was he?”

Fai shakes his head and smiles apologetically. “I can’t say. I couldn’t see,” He admits. “But what I did see was you by his side.”

“...Is that right?” Kurogane murmurs, mostly to himself. He blinks when he notices glowing specks appearing along him, floating upwards as things seem to get brighter.

“Your turn now,” Fai says. “Time to wake up.”

“Hey,” Kurogane says as he struggles to see Fai against the light that threatens to blind him. “Keep looking. I have a feeling you’ll find him in a dream soon enough.”

Fai smiles and nods with determination. “I know I will.”

Kurogane can’t handle the light anymore, so he shuts his eyes against it. He sees only darkness after that, feels pain on his left side and a throbbing in his forehead. He wants to keep his eyes shut against it and go back to the Dream World, but his eyes open despite himself.

He opens his eyes to his home, his princess. Eventually, the door opens, and he sees Yuui—Fai, the man he’s dedicated his life to, and though he knows there is more to worry about, a relief he didn’t know he could feel soothes him.

And after a blow to the head that, honestly, he probably deserved, Kurogane sees the first vestiges of the smile the younger twin spoke of.

[biocrafthero]

You've never really been the flashy type, admittedly. Even if your domain contains immense powers—rot and decay, notably—you prefer to exist under the guise of the "Bone Mage." It sounds silly, but you embrace it wholeheartedly, even if your fellow gods laugh about it.

You don't do anything special with your powers, simply carrying around a sack of bones you found laying around in the forest in order to construct things. Sometimes you make the strangest weapons your enemies have ever seen, and other times you animate small constructs that resemble the various critters you adore. It doesn't require a lot of effort on your part, but it keeps your chosen village at peace and scares off any villains-of-the-week that happen to stumble across it.

You have history with this place, a history you would never admit to. A small shrine that sunk to the bottom of the old well, a relic that has been standing for over 200 years. You would rather not be held on the pedestal of a deity, but you can never turn down a gift.

Right now, in this moment, you simply exist as a strange man who lives in a shack on the outskirts of town. A wooden mask hangs on the wall for when you're called to action, and your shelves are filled with various things that the local population has given to you as thanks. You wear gloves to hide how your skin slips from the bone—just one of your various physical oddities that accompanies your nature.

You're happy here; it's a thought you commonly have as you sip on your coffee during these cold autumn mornings. You turn on your radio to the news, adjusting the antenna slightly while you listen.

"-- Here we can see the Soaring Spade taking another blow from Dark King's newly-forged blade. The battle looks nasty, but we can trust our dashing hero to pull through--"

Ah, more of this again. Soaring Spade is the fresh-blooded hero from the city, and Dark King is an old colleague of yours who went rogue. The two of them are probably having a rough time picking each other apart right now.

"You best get away from me, young one!" The Dark King shouts—he's always been like that, loud enough for the newscasters to hear him, his presence commanding. "The Helm-splitter will cleave you!"

"Not if I pry it from your hands, villain!" Soaring Spade shouts back. Their voice sounds young.

"They go in for a swing," the newscaster commentates, "and--"

A bright flash of light comes from the window. The earth shakes, and you nearly fall out of your chair.

After gathering yourself for a moment, you rush to the window and look outside, only to see a pillar of smoke bellowing from one of the city's skyscrapers, a wake of rubble leading away from it and through several blocks. You can't help but stare with widened eyes at it all.

"They were blown East, and with such force!! So this is the secret that the Dark King's weapon holds!"

You hard heard in passing that he was up to something, but you had no idea it was something as devastating as this.

"The Dark King is now chasing after Soaring Spade!" The newscaster turns away from the mic; "We need a better angle, try following--"

Something shoots out from some of the far-off trees, closer than you expected. Is that...?

Quickly, you take your mask off the wall and grab your sack of bones, rushing outside. You see a speck off in the distance, Soaring Spade rushing back to the city with their power of flight. A glint of light comes from the sky nearby them—

Another bright flash. You feel the wind rushing past you this time, but you hold your ground. Soaring Spade slams back into the earth.

The direction they're headed in, at this speed and power... You feel your stomach sink.

Quickly, you rummage through your collection, grabbing enough bones for a small construct. You animate it in your hand, and instruct it to run to the village and warn them. It leaps off of you and scurries off, heeding your commands.

You run in the direction of the battle.

You cannot recall the last time something like this happened here, if there had been anything at all like this before in the first place.

Weaving your way between fallen trees and scattered rocks, you arrive at Soaring Spade's impact site. They look up at you in confusion, groaning as they attempt to sit up.

"Who... who are you supposed to be...?" They ask.

That's right, most A-list heroes haven't heard of anyone below a C before. "They call me the Bone Mage," you answer.

They let out a pained laugh, trying to muster a smile. "You picked that name yourself?"

You simply shrug in response. "It just kind of stuck," you say. Approaching them, you help them up off the ground. You take notice of how they're bleeding and how they clutch at their ribs. Their flashy costume is torn up.

A loud slam resounds nearby, the Dark King making his entrance as dramatically as you remember. His black armor glints in the sunlight, and the great sword—the Helm-splitter—radiates with energy.

"I won't let you get away from me," he says, "not when I'm this close to victory." He twirls the blade in his hands like it weighs nothing.

"You'll never win...!" Soaring Spade spits back. They try taking a step forward, but stumbles; you catch them before you hit the ground.

The Dark King turns his gaze towards you. "You... you must be one of those nobodies I knew, back when I used to be for the light!"

You would feel offended at him not even remembering your name, but that's the least of your concerns right now. "Look, I just need you two to stop for a minute and take this somewhere else at the very least—"

"No!" He shouts. You can hear a helicopter approaching, likely the reporters you were listening to earlier. "This is my fight, and I decide where it takes place!"

Soaring Spade needs medical attention immediately, and you really need them both away from your little village as soon as possible. Your eyes travel to the Helm-splitter.

"Where did you even get that sword, anyways?" You ask.

"Oh, this?" He says, lifting up the blade to display it to you. "I forged it myself, the process a thousand years old, the weapon itself imbued with magic! Isn't it such a work of art?"

You can't help but glare at him. He likely found methods scouring around the ruins of an old cult that worshipped one of your fellow gods. The weapon itself isn't godly, thankfully—weapons can only attain that status and power if they're made by a god themself—but the method to create it was probably derived from it. The hero in your arms would not survive another direct blow from it, and the village you protect would be obliterated.

You gently set down Soaring Spade. "What... what are you doing?!" They ask you with concern in their eyes.

"Don't worry about me," you tell them. You place your sack of bones on the ground, as well—you're probably going to need both hands for this.

The Dark King laughs at you. "Ha! You're going to challenge me? Someone as simple as yourself should be thinking of your own skin instead."

"I'm not," you say, straightening out your back. "I told you to leave, and you refused. I will defend this place."

"Then die for it!" He yells. Raising Helm-splitter above his head, he rushes at you, and brings it down.

You catch it in your hands.

The force and weight of it makes your knees buckle and it cuts holes in the palms of your gloves, but you hold it in place. Your eyes glow through the holes of your mask.

"Wh... what?!" The Dark King gasps, bewilderment in his tone.

You push the blade away from you, forcing him back. He looks down at the blade, and back up at you. "That's impossible..." he mumbles. "You shouldn't... you couldn't...!"

"You really need to learn about the people you decide to fight," you say, taking off your gloves. "You could never pick your battles."

"No mere mortal could stop the blade, not even the person who forged it themselves!"

"That's too bad." You stomp your feet on the ground as you leap into a casting stance, your collection of bones flying out of the sack and swirling around you.

A large construct forms, and rushes towards the Dark King. He raises his sword, spending out an arc of energy towards it in an effort to defend himself. The bones scatter, but quickly reform the beast's body.

This isn't anything special, just something to buy you time. You remove your gloves—you might as well, since your hands are already showing through the holes—and assemble a two-pronged spear in your hands.

You reach out to puppet the construct; it shifts into a serpentine form and begins to coil around the Dark King, who holds his sword so that he may attempt to strike its head.

He holds still for a moment too long, and you throw your weapon.

Your aim is straight and true, and it catches him by his waist. The strength you throw it with carries him through the trees, cutting through the wood effortlessly. A shockwave of air blows against you like a storm, and you look to Soaring Spade to check on them as it rushes past you. Their eyes are simply transfixed on where the Dark King once stood, frozen in absolute shock.

When the wind settles, you command your construct again, this time so that you may stand upon it. It brings you the whole distance to the struck-down villain, slithering and snaking it's away across the ruined trees and boulders.

Upon arriving, it deforms back into its miscellaneous parts, hovering around you. The spear you threw keeps the Dark King pinned to the ground; he looks up at you with fear in his eyes. You pick up the sword that sits just out of his reach.

"What... are you...?" He struggles to get out.

"I'm nobody special, honestly," you say, adjusting Helm-splitter in your grip. "I'm just a D-list hero who wants to protect their village, nothing more."

Focusing your energy, you channel your power through your hands and into the blade. You hasten it's decay, rust eating away at it and growing across its body like ivy—the power that courses through it crackles and sparks. After a moment, you snap it in two without much effort. The energy that once radiated from it dissipates instantly, and you drop it to the ground.

The Dark King stares at the now useless piece of metal with widened eyes, before shooting up to look at your rotten hands. "You... you can't..."

"I can't what?" You say, walking towards them. "Cant do that? Can't beat you?"

"You can't be..."

You crouch down next to them, holding your face close to theirs. "I can't be human?"

He cowers.

You can't help but laugh. "What would give you that idea?" Looking up, you still see the news helicopter from earlier flying overhead; you give them a small wave. "I told you to leave, so I'm making you leave. I'd rather not be bothered again on a nice morning like this."

You stand up, leaving the Dark King pinned to the ground. The police will come in and arrest him shortly, even if you're a bit far from the city right now.

It's... tempting to go all-out on him right now. You could decay more, you could decay him, but you'd rather not with all these eyes on you. Your domain is powerful, but you are also merciful.

Something begins to rush towards you, and you hear the wind it causes before it shows up. Turning, you see Soaring Spade making their way over. They begin to tumble a little, and you prepare to catch them; thankfully, they stick the landing by your side.

"You're really in no state to fly right now," you say.

"I'll be fine, I've had worse injuries before," they try and reassure you, but you have a feeling they're lying. They look at the Dark King, their expression unreadable. "I'm impressed you beat him so fast! You sure you're just some nobody?"

You shrug. "I'd prefer to keep it that way, honestly..."

"Well, suit yourself! If you want to, I can send in a good word for the agency that sponsors me."

"No, really, I'm good." You can't help but appreciate their generosity, though.

They look towards your hands, eyes widening. "Are you okay...?" They ask, gesturing at your rotting body.

You hide your hands behind your back. "It's just... a side effect of how I got my powers."

"Ah, I see. Happens to the best of us, I suppose." The look off into the distance, before turning back to you. "You said you're the Bone Mage, right?"

You simply nod.

"Cool! I'll keep you in mind if I'm ever in the area, since you seem like a nice guy. I bet whoever you're protecting must adore you."

You smile. "I guess you could say that."

You are a literal god who pretends to be a d-list superhero. You’ve grown extremely attached to the people of the village you protect. You get news that an epic battle is taking place near your village and would most likely destroy it…

[crystalgirl259]

The Flame and the Dragon Chapter 35

Chapter 35: The Blizzard

Scorched needles, scarps of wood blackened by rage, and bits of ash and charcoal scattered across the burnt snow where the proud pine tree once stood. Specks of blood and splinters dropped from the Sorcerer's scraped and roughened fingertips like someone had scattered rubies. His nails were shredded and his cuticles were split from clawing at the bark in a fit of rage. His fury had reduced the aged pine to a pile of ashes. All while, the raven remained still on its perch in the snow, completely unfazed by his master's wrath.

The Sorcerer's growl was dangerous and low before he suddenly screamed and spun around delivering a powerful blow to the young sapling unfortunate enough to be in the path of his wrath.

It made no effort to protests the Sorcerer's rage. Blinded by his rage, all he could see were the images his spy had shown. Images of that disgustingly repulsive beast, not even a beast but a half-beast, dancing with the Occulti, his Occulti. He clenching his fists causing his fingers to scream in pain but he was numb to all but his rage. He could forgive Kai for that. Surely the Dragon was becoming desperate and would use any kindness to trick the youth into saying the words needed to break his curse and deny him his greatest triumph.

He could forgive the youth for his naivety and his defenselessness.

He was merciful, but not after treachery. His wrath erupted, sending the curling shadows at his feet exploding in all directions. They shattered and pierced whatever they came in contact with until the clearing was a hollow circle of scorched earth.

"He's dirty! That damned whore! Damn him for giving away his purity, and damn me for thinking any one of their kind was redeemable!" He screamed and stomped his foot and tore at his hair and clothes until he panted like a beast after a hunt. But no matter how loud he screamed or how much he destroyed, it could never destroy that last scene from his mind. That beautiful boy, who should have been his consort and ruling at his side, wantonly giving his virginity to that monster and enjoying it.

He wanted to scream again, but someone else beat him to it.

"Lloyd! Where are you?!" A woman cried and the weak call was followed by a loud stumble against the carpet of snow. Bewildered, the Sorcerer quickly shielded himself among the trees careful not to let a spot of his red clothing betray his location. He watched a young woman rise stumbling from the muddy earth, and choke loudly on air. Like a shadow, the Sorcerer swooped closer and gasped. It was easy to miss from a distance but beneath the thick winter clock and the leaves and mud matting the sister of his Occulti.

The girl bulldozed through the woods and threw herself forward through the snow.

The action caused her heavy cloak to fall open revealing a shower of black hair, shiny even in the shadows of the winter forest. The girl immediately stumbled and almost fell over, but she was able to remain standing by leaning against a nearby tree. She was clearly sick as a dog and should be going home, but she had to keep going. She tried to scream, but instead choked on her own words and coughed in a way that made even the Sorcerer's skin crawl.

"I have... to find... Lloyd," She wheezed, shoving herself off the tree with surprising strength and half stumbled in her haste. She didn't get far before exhaustion and the brutal cold forced her to her knees. "I have to find them! I have to find Lloyd then we can save Kai! I have to get them back!" She spoke passionately to no one, but it was laced with the madness of grief. Again she shoved herself forward but instead her hands clenched her head and formed fists against her hair.

"I have to protect them! I promised I would! I promised them! Mom and Dad, I promised, and look what I've done! Lloyd's probably dead and I can't even think of what Kai's going through!" She screamed and tore at her hands and clothes with the rage and madness that only grief could drive a sane man to. She slammed her fists against the ground and punched at anything she could. All of a sudden, she was suddenly filled with new determination and charged into the blizzard, not aware she was being watched.

A triumphant smile split the Sorcerer's face.

Perhaps, there was some hope left after all. He smirked cunningly and called his pet. The bird abandoned its statue state and flew to its master's wrist.

"Tell me, my pet is he the one? The one our little Occulti spoke off?" He asked, but even though the bird said nothing a flash of its eyes and the Sorcerer had his answer. "And this 'Lloyd' she searches for, is he the other?" He questioned and again the bird was like a prop, only its glowing eyes gave an indication that it was alive. The Sorcerer snickered to conceal his glee, not wishing to betray his location to the still wandering mage. He spun in delight, thinking this was fantastic. It seemed that the Fates favored him after all.

"Follow her, when you've reached them both, alert me; now go!" He ordered as a grin curled wickedly on his face. The bird was off without another word, vanishing in the darkness while its Master laughed at his fortune. "Oh don't worry, girl, you shall see your little brother again soon!" He cackled like a flock of crows taking to wing and threw his bloody cloak over his shoulder...

****************

It had been two weeks since he ran away from home to find the castle where his beloved brother was being held prisoner by that beast. Two weeks he had been living in the woods surviving only because of the warming weather of the upcoming spring and because years of living a nomadic life had taught him to pack and prepare for the worst of situations. Two weeks since he had begun his search for Kai and he had found nothing. He thought it would be easy, with Spring fast approaching, that is until a blizzard appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

It had caught Lloyd completely off-guard and forced him to stop his search and find shelter.

Lloyd whimpered as he bunched his knees to his chest, shivering but not from the cold. The multiple fires he had started to keep the cave air warm, and the thick clothing he had packed had taken care of that. He covered his mouth to silence the heavy, haggard coughs fighting to escape. Quickly, he unpacked the bag containing a herbal blend and dumped it into the pot of water that had been boiling over the fire. He inhaled a sharp, large breathe and exhaled contently.

Immediately, he felt his throat soothe and his chest became less constricted.

He hadn't needed to use the herbal vapors so much before, but the cold weather wasn't doing his weak chest any good. He knew he would have been fine if he stayed in that warm house at night like a good boy. But how could he when Kai had been missing for almost five months, and the castle where the dragon kept him prisoner seemed to completely vanish? The thought made Lloyd's eyes prick with tears, but he managed not to cry. His fingers trembled, he clenched his arms and knees tighter in an attempt to feel some form of comfort.

But there was none. Nothing he did could replace the warmth and security he felt when he, Nya, and Kai were all together at home.

He knew he couldn't go home. Nya would never let him leave the house again until he was eighty. Lloyd didn't blame her, he ran away after all, but he couldn't keep waiting. He couldn't keep sitting around and doing nothing while his older sister worked and searched diligently for their missing sibling. He had traveled deeper and deeper into the woods. No matter how many times he found himself back at the path where they got lost in the storm, however, he couldn't find any trace of the huge castle.

Had it been sheer dumb luck that Kai found it the first time?

Or that they found it at all? Lloyd shook his head, forcing himself to dry his sleepy eyes. He then sat up with new determination, mentally forcing the tears and shivering down deep. If Kai could find the castle to save him and Nya then he could do the same thing to save Kai. He removed himself from the warmth of his fires and carefully approached the edge of the cave entrance, where he could hear the blizzard howling and blowing. The cold air bit angrily against his lukewarm skin, as if punishing him for daring to defy it.

Over the woods, he could see the setting sun was nothing more than a yellow sliver above the trees and the night had gone a deep grayish purple of twilight that bled into the dark blue and black of night.

Seeing that there was no point in traveling in the dark, Lloyd slid back into the crevice in the rocks and carefully covered it with a thick net of branches to keep out the cold. He had found this cave by sheer accident when he had slipped and fallen into the entrance. Through that, he discovered a fairly large-sized cave, hollowed out of the dirt and lined with rocks like a fox den. Lloyd had decided it would be the perfect place to camp while he explored the woods by day.

That proved to be true when the underground and rocks blocked out much of the night's cold.

The small opening allowed just enough air so that he wouldn't suffocate from the smoke of the fires. Sometimes, when he felt really weak and his medicine wasn't helping. He would have to spend all day curled up in his makeshift tent under the thick blankets he had brought until his shivering stopped and he could move again. Tonight had been one of his rare nights where he had just enough energy to go exploring again, but he regretted it when he had received an unwanted follower.

Lloyd shivered and blew air into his gloved hands, and rubbed them together before returning to the fire.

Outside a loud crunch of the snow made him scream, the sound echoing off the cave walls forcing Lloyd to cover his ears until it faded out.

"LLOYD!" Nya's voice suddenly screeched, coming closer to the cave. Before he could say anything, she pulled away from the cover and started sobbing tears of joy when she saw her little brother huddled in the dark. Lloyd didn't get a chance to react before she suddenly hugged the air out of his lungs. They stayed like that for a few seconds, before a look of rage fell over her face and she started shaking the little boy. "WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING LLOYD?! I'VE ALREADY LOST KAI, DO YOU THINK I WANT TO LOSE YOU?! WELL, DO YOU?!" She screamed, still sobbing through clenched teeth.

However, her rage suddenly vanished when Lloyd finally released all the tears he had been holding in and started sobbing loudly.

Nya sighed and hugged her little brother again, letting him sob into her shoulder until he eventually tired himself out and fell asleep. As soon as she was sure he was out cold, Nya packed up his things and lifted him up in her arms. Once he was secure and safe, she left the cave and began to head home. However, it only took a few seconds to discover that she couldn't find the trail leading back to the village in this monstrous blizzard. She tried turning around and heading back to the cave.

But her face paled when she realized that the blizzard had covered her footprints in fresh snow.

She was now stranded in the middle of a blizzard in the forest with one brother sick in her arms and the other being held prisoner by a monster...

****************

Kai screamed for his siblings in his sleep as he thrashed around in the bed, only to find himself restrained. His eyes suddenly flew open and he found himself being held in place by Cole, the man's green eyes fixed on him with a mixture of fear and concern. A cold stab of fear pierced him, completely unaware of where he was. He recognized Cole's room, but the bedsheets were twisted and half flung off. One of Kai's arms raised over his head the other clenched the pillow in a fierce death grip, with Cole holding both his wrists.

Cole's tail was wrapped firmly around Kai's waist to keep from thrashing about.

Slowly, so as not to scare him further, Cole unwound himself and looked him over for any sign of injury.

"Kai? Are you alright?" He asked, carefully and tenderly. The details of his nightmare came back to him like a cold knife twisting into his heart. A sudden stab of guilt and terror knifed through him, making Kai flip over and smother his face in a pillow and burst into tears. "Kai? Talk to me!" Cole pleaded as he kept shaking him, his voice sterner, but not losing an ounce of concern.

"I'm fine," Kai lied wiping his eyes. "I just had a nightmare."

"I can see that, you don't wake up crying and screaming if you've had a good dream," Cole said bluntly, lying down next to him and pulling Kai into his arms. Despite Cole's attempt at light humor, Kai said nothing. He just looked at the pillow beneath his face. A tear he hadn't noticed ran down his face and he found himself shaking again. He tried to speak but the only coherent thoughts in his head were the pleading, effusing eyes of his two brothers.

Determined to relieve his precious flame of his distress, Cole wrapped tentative arms around Kai.

He then pulled the brunette into his lap and brought him down with him against the pillows. Kai resisted the embrace and tried to protest but regretted it when Cole looked him straight in the eye. His face was a mask that betrayed no emotion, but his serious eyes held unspoken trust.

"You saw your siblings, didn't you? You're worried about them." He said and Kai's flinch of shock was the only answer Cole needed. "Don't look so surprised, you screamed both their names; I've had nightmares about my sister and parents for years after they vanished, so you don't have to hide your worry, and I don't want you thinking you can't come to me when you're upset like this." He promised as he tucked one of Kai's loose bangs behind his ear.

"It's not that," Kai admitted, feeling his chest stir at the words. He paused, guilt shaking him to the core. "I don't know if that was a nightmare or another premonition, but... it made me realize just how selfish I've been; here I am, happier than I've ever been in my entire life, surrounded by people who adore me, wearing the most expensive things I've ever owned! I'm practically living a fairy tale and they think I'm starving to death in some cold, dark tower, being tortured."

"Oh," Cole muttered as Kai covered his head with his arms and buried it in Cole's chest.

"They probably think I'm dead, Cole!" Kai cried as tears streamed down his face. He had never stopped thinking of his siblings, not since the day he had arrived at the castle. It seemed wrong to do anything else. Even when he started to like his confinement, and enjoy the company of the Dragon Lord, he still remembered his brother and sister and was comforted in the thought that they were both safe and hopefully happy. He never stopped to consider that his sacrifice might have the opposite effect of what he intended.

Or that his disappearance had destroyed their lives in a way he never considered.

But he had been so happy. The last few days were like a dream come true and he wanted nothing more than to pretend that it could last forever, and he dared, for once, to be selfish and think of nothing but his own happiness. Of course, that decision would come back to haunt him. Guilt pooled in Cole's gut and he cursed his own helplessness as he watched Kai weep. He hated seeing Kai like this. The brunette deserved to be happy and content, not feel like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, and be consumed by guilt and shame for wanting to forget that and enjoy life for once.

Especially since it was his fault Kai's family was separated from him.

Looking back at the darkest and earliest days of when he and Kai met when he had unleashed his bitterness and rage against Nya and Lloyd. Kai's siblings had every right to be afraid of him. He had only agreed to Kai's proposal because the boy fascinated him and not because he cared at all about their fates, even if Lloyd's health had concerned him. It had filled him with shame and he knew he had to make up for it. None of them deserved to be separated from one another.

Especially not because of him.

They deserved better than that ridiculous town trapped in time, and he knew just how to do it. Cole stroked Kai's back and gently shook him. When Kai raised his head, eyes red-rimmed and cheeks damp with tears, Cole comforted him with caring words pressed with butterfly kisses along his neck and temples.

"If you're that concerned about them, then you can always invite them to stay here." He said with a soft smile and Kai shot up.

"What?" He croaked in a weak voice forced through a constricted throat.

"There's more than enough room here, the staff will adore them; you already said you three planned on leaving your town anyway, and I don't think they'll argue if you ask them, and I can bear the bulk of their hatred for your sake."

"Why would they hate you?" Kai blurted, too stunned to think clearly, and Cole raised an eyebrow of annoyed obviousness.

"Given the fact that I locked them in a tower and technically kidnapped you, I doubt they'd be happy to see me or be comfortable with the fact that you're now my lover, but as I said, I can bear the bulk of their hatred until they see I'm not as cold as I act."

"You'd do that for me?"

"I'd do anything for you," Cole replied, pressing their foreheads together. Overcome by emotion, Kai launched himself into Cole's chest and held him tight with such force he nearly knocked Cole over. Tears rained down his cheeks but this time they were happy tears.

"Thank you, Cole! Thank you so much! I don't deserve you!" Kai cried as he buried himself in Cole's torso grateful for the man's comfort and support and his understanding more than anything else.

"Don't ever say that again, don't even think it." Cole scolded but there was little force behind it. Cole pulled the comforter up to Kai's shoulders as they fell back asleep. "We'll talk more about it in the morning."

"Thank you, Cole, thank you for everything." Kai yawned as he dried his eyes.

"You have nothing to thank me for, it's the least I can do since you saved my soul." Cole smiled as he sensed Kai's lingering uncertainty, he continued to hold his lover close and comfort him until they finally fell back into a peaceful sleep. Cole continued to hold Kai, keeping a careful watch for the rest of the night, treasuring the feeling of holding Kai close. When the nightmares bothered him again, Cole was quick to chase them away and coaxed Kai back to sleep with soothing touches and caring words until Kai quieted...

[geraskierficrecs]

For more Fae Jaskier, check out the AO3 story here.

His hands were covered in blood.

Geralt made a rough sound, fighting against the urge to panic.  The body in his arms shuddered again as he ripped off his shirt and pressed it against the open slash across her stomach.

Her stomach.  

There’s no pretending the tiny, shivering mass in his arms was a monster.  Whatever was left of the curse that created the striga, it had left behind a child that had already lived a life of pain and agony.  

Gods, he’d really thought he would be able to save her.

He’d tried so damn hard.  Even though he knew how difficult it would be.  He’d looked at the father’s face and saw a man who might actually try to give the child a chance.  He’d heard the story of lies and lust and horror and thought only about the innocent child who’d been left to bear their burden.  Deep in his mind, he’d remembered the line in a forgotten book hidden among Kaer Morhen’s keep and thought, I could save her.  I could make this right.

At first it had even seemed like he would succeed in his ridiculous plan.

He’d managed to keep the striga at bay through the long hours of the night.  It had been little more than a gory game of cat and mouse, hampered by his desire to keep from doing any serious damage.  All he had to do was survive the night.  If he could keep her alive just a little longer, she could go home.  She could be free.

He should have known better than to try to be a hero.  He should have remembered the lesson he’d learned the first time he’d turned, covered in the life’s blood of another, only to hear the screams begin again.  

Even with all his training, he couldn’t keep himself from the choice that always came in battle--who would fall.  Was Geralt willing to lay down his life to try to save a girl who’d never truly lived?

The answer, apparently, was no.

He’d reacted on instinct.  Sword moving like an extension of his body.  Sinking deep--too deep.  Burying into the stomach of a face shifting from monster to an innocent in one shocking flash.

“Someone help!” Geralt shouted, hoping against all hope that the soldiers of the local lord who’d played his part in this tragedy would hear.  Maybe their mage would be enough to save her.  “Help her!”

“Only if you ask nicely.”

Geralt froze, shock overwhelming his panic in a dizzying rush.  He spun, still holding tight to his makeshift bandage and took in the sight of the fae lounging indolently across a broken, rotting pew in the midst of the ruined chapel.

Despite the five years that had passed since their last encounter, there was no sign of any time passing on his beautiful face--not that Geralt expected it.  Fae were immortal, unchanging.  A creature dedicated to cruel mischief hidden behind a beautiful mask.  The fae watched him in the shadows of the old shrine with a small smile like he knew how much research Geralt had done on the fae after their last meeting.  The warnings repeated over and over by countless Witchers rumbled in his ears like an oncoming storm, but it was already too late.

“What are you doing here?” he asked hoarsely.  Geralt focused on not looking down at the dark line that wrapped around his forearm like a tattoo.  It itched and burned slightly, eager within to be close to its creator.

“How could I not when you were crying out so sweetly?” the fae asked, not looking bothered by the girl bleeding out in Geralt’s arms.  “I couldn’t risk someone else coming along and taking advantage of you.”

Geralt’s eyes narrowed on the creature.  “All you want is for me to owe you another favor.”

“That is one of the many things I want from you, dear Witcher.”

“Can you save her?” The question was tempered by the heartbeat beginning to slow beneath his fingers and the glassy sheen on the girl’s eyes.

The fae barely glanced at the dying girl.  “Do you think she should be?  You’ll be condemning her to a life she doesn’t understand--if she ever will.  She’ll be seen as a monster.”

“It wasn’t her fault!”

“That rarely matters.”

Something in him wanted to rage at the truth of the fae’s words.  It settled oddly in the air between them, like an invisible force too large for the space between them.  There was something complicated hiding behind the small, humorless smile on the creature’s face--like he was waiting for Geralt to understand something.

But the smell of blood felt like it was all he could think about and the Witcher tightened his hold on the girl like he could channel some of his own strength into her fragile body.

“She deserves a chance,” he rasped, dangerously close to pleading, “please.”

The fae’s smile went flat, a new darkness flickering through his eyes.  “You should never beg to a fae.  I might begin to crave it.”

Geralt ignored the shiver of anticipation that curled through his stomach at the dangerous rumble.  “What do you want then?”

“You’re not ready for the answer to that question, Geralt.”

“Stop being so damned secretive and help me save her!” Geralt growled.  “I’ll give you another favor if that’s what it takes.”

“You shouldn’t be so quick to offer such things,” he warned, “There are many who would take advantage of such a thing.”

Geralt’s lips twisted into a bitter line.  Why should it matter what happened to him?  He was a monster, just as hated as any fae or striga.  The humans tolerated his presence when they needed him and the creatures he hunted hated him for what he did.  No one would mourn his passing if he were to hand himself over to the fae’s cruel entertainment.  

The fae seemed to understand the direction of his thoughts because it stood and moved closer.  “Fine then--I’ve never been good at passing up temptation.” He stood just outside of Geralt’s reach and put his hands on his hips.  “But my price has gone up.”

Geralt glared at him.  “What do you want?”

“This time I want two favors,” he said breezily, brushing away a speck of dirt, “I can’t allow anyone to think I’m going soft.”

The girl’s heartbeat stuttered and Geralt felt his own heart lurch in response.  He knew his expression was far too panicked and desperate to attempt to bargain.  There wasn’t enough time.  It came down to whether Geralt was willing to risk himself and his future to a fae in order to complete this impossible task.

“Fine.  Hurry.”

The fae’s eyes went bright and electric, shining with an unholy light as Geralt agreed to his terms.  The thin veneer of humanity seemed to tremble beneath his skin and Geralt felt his heart speed up in anticipation--of an attack or something else, he wasn’t sure.  

“It’s a deal then.”  

As if the words released his magic, the room was flooded with the sharp scent of power and old magic.  It crackled along his skin like a lightning storm, bringing with it the scent of meadowgrass and dandelions.  Geralt raised his hand to shield his face when light flared out from the girl in his arms and winced when it was paired with a bone deep hum that seemed to dig into the very core of him.  

The magic seemed to pulse in hot waves, pressing against the girl’s skin until it began to knit together in front of his eyes faster than even a Witcher could claim.  She sucked in a shuddering breath that Geralt subconsciously mimicked.  His blood stained fingers raised to trace over the pulse in her neck, slowly growing stronger.  He smiled slightly and closed his eyes as the magic began to fade.

She would survive this.  He had saved her.

Now he just had to survive the ramifications of his bargain.

The fae was watching him curiously when he opened his eyes again.  “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you cared for the girl?  I thought Witchers didn’t have emotions…”

Geralt didn’t answer the question hidden in the last statement in favor of looking the girl over.  “Will she live?”

“I always keep my promises,” the fae said with a tight smile.  “We’ll have to see how well you’ll keep yours.”

“A deal is a deal.”  Even if it meant more suffering on his part, he couldn’t regret his decision when he could watch the steady rise and fall of an innocent chest.  “I pay my debts, fae.”

“Jaskier.”

Geralt looked up with a frown.  “What?”

The fae shrugged and turned to talk away.  “My name,” he called over his shoulder, “so you know who to cry out for next time.”

He disappeared before Geralt could say that he had no intention of calling for the fae again.

[radabom]

Arctober Day 5- Fight

This particular story involves a concept of magic I’ve always enjoyed using for myself: the concept of a being called the Elemental. For future prompts I’ll be adding in some more details about it (especially on the day for the mc’s magic, since that’ll literally just be the entirety of what the Elemental is), but for now this story has a few details about it. Hopefully you’ll be just as confused about it’s nature as the characters in this short story.

That being said, if you don’t wanna wait to learn more about it, I’m more than happy to talk more about it’s concept, how the Elemental works and what it is. Just send an ask, or reply to this post or somethin’.

This story involves Asra, Nadia, and an unnamed GN!MC. There’s no talk of romance or fluff, it’s essentially a training fight so there isn’t really any angst either.

"Keep on trying, I'm sure you'll get it. Just focus on that feeling from before, and hopefully it'll come back to you." The voice of my friend Asra told me. He and Nadia have both been trying to help me get my powers to resurface, spending a good portion of the morning with me in an empty field right behind the palace walls. A few days ago, we had been traveling and walked into an ambush of five people that got the better of us all. My powers, the minuscule little echoes of it that Asra had sensed before, came in full force when we were all threatened with our lives. It wasn't really magic, not like how Asra or Muriel or Nadia could do; it apparently wasn't normal magic at all. According to Asra, it was a similar energy to an Arcana, but not one he had ever known. After he contacted some friends from previous travels, he came to the conclusion that it was some being called "the Elemental". Unfortunately for me, not much is known about it.

"Maybe if you remembered what the presence of this 'Elemental' felt like?" Nadia's voice added in from the sidelines where both her and Asra were watching. She had on her riding uniform and Asra was wearing his everyday clothing, sash and all.

"I can't remember very clearly. The bandits came, got the jump on us, I was terrified we'd all die, and this rush of power came through me right before I blacked out. I don't remember anything else until I woke up with you guy's carrying me back to Vesuvia..." I recounted, flexing my hands in hope that something would happen. "Are you sure there's nothing written about this... thing that apparently took over my body?" I added on dejectedly, turning towards them fully.

"The only knowledge I have on it are from the few rumors I've heard from other magicians. Granted, I'm sure not all of them are true, but from the few things I've heard from trusted sources, I can say that the only person who could teach you about it is yourself, or the Elemental themself." Asra answered, him and Nadia both walking up to me after my failed attempts at trying to reuse the powers I felt before. "The elemental only resides within one person, so there's never two people with the same powers who would be able to learn from each other." He added on, giving me a supportive hand on my shoulder as I stared at the ground in contemplation.

"Do you think if I were in a fight, feeling threatened and all that, it might resurface?" I questioned, looking up at both of them for their opinions. Nadia and Asra seemed to glance at each other for a moment, hesitation palpable in their held breaths, before Nadia turned back to me.

"I suppose that might help, considering how the apparent threat is what spurred the release. But who would you even fight?" She inquired, worry lightly showing on her face.

"Well, you guys both have magic, right? Just throw whatever at me and we can see if it works!" I added on the last part enthusiastically, hoping my energy would put them at ease with the idea. To me, at least, it seemed as good an idea as any. Nadia and Asra both seemed apprehensive at best.

Asra held his breath for a moment, closing his eyes briefly in contemplation before releasing his breath and focusing back on me. "Are you sure you want to do that? We can limit our attacks to prevent any serious injuries, but if the powers don't surface you'll most likely get hurt." His tone was worried, but I knew this would probably give us the best chance. What else could I do anyways, aside from pick a fight with a stranger?

"I don't mind if I get hurt, it's at least worth the risk if it means being able to figure out these weird powers," I nodded my head in affirmation to both of them, hands on my hips before adding on, "if I'm the only one who can figure out how to use these powers, I gotta be willing to take risks to learn more about it."

So with that, Asra and Nadia moved a few paces away from me, giving us all the space for their attacks.

"Ready?" Nadia called out. I crouched down as if I was ready to catch a heavy object, and nodded.

Asra's hands began to glow at the tips, his mouth moving in a chant while Nadia watched and waited for her turn. A small ball of ice formed between Asra's palms, the ball then shifting into a bunch of mildly-pointy spikes. I suppose if they were thrown hard enough they might draw blood...

"Fuck!" I screamed as the spikes were launched at me, moving so fast I couldn't even tell where they hit me until I felt a few tiny cuts on my shoulders and thighs. I didn't even make a move to get out of the way, nor did I even have the time to focus on trying to stop the spikes.

"Are you okay?" Asra's concerned voice shouted to me. I gave a thumbs up, taking a deep breath for the next attack to focus on.

This time, Nadia's hand began to glow with flame as a tiny ball of fire flickered in one of her palms, each moving lick of flame growing in size until it was almost as big as her hand. I knew she had magical capabilities, I just never knew she could produce flames. Maybe Asra had taught her that? I questioned to myself, trying to focus on the fireball before it even got hurdled to me. Even when Nadia launched it high in the sky to fall down on me, probably to give me extra time to focus on it, I couldn't sense any telltale signs of the powers returning. I hoped, maybe, if the fireball just got a little bit closer...

The fireball came down and smacked me right in the upper chest, sending me down and away from the other two as it felt like a kick from a horse, all oxygen forced out of my lungs. "Ow..." I muttered quietly on the ground, trying to get my head to stop hurting from smacking down. I began to get up, but noticed another source of pain that was growing quite rapidly. "Ow, owowow!!" I stood up and began flailing wildly as my shirt caught on fire, burning at my flesh. I didn't even notice it when Asra sent a massive torrent of water at me, subsequently snuffing out the fire while also blasting me so far back my body slammed against the walls of the palace, my heading bashing against it's hard surface. Falling to the ground, I could already see spots floating around my vision and I couldn't comprehend whatever exclamations Asra and Nadia were shouting as I vaguely saw them make a mad dash to me. All I could focus on was the creeping darkness, the blotchy vision, and a small tickle of energy welling up within me before I passed out.

"I knew I shouldn't have put so much force in it, but I didn't think it would make them fly like that!" Asra exclaimed, crouching at the body of my partner in an attempt to examine them. I think he might have realized I was surfacing, though, as he and Nadia's eyes both grew wide and they backed away from their friend. The body that I began taking over was still slumped against the wall, but I was kept my energy into it as their eyelids flickered open to reveal two glowing spheres of white, the telltale sign that I was in charge of our shared physical body. Feeling out the rest of the body and fully taking it over, I got up stiffly and simply stared at the two. I could tell how unsettled they were, but hopefully they knew I wouldn't harm them.

"I do not see how this fighting would help the mage with using my powers. At most, it will just trigger my takeover." I stated simply deepened voice rumbling in the air close to me as I walked past the two and looking at the field with singed grass, chunks of ice, and flooded spots of water. With a wave of one hand, the grass regrew over it's burnt ends, the ice melted to join the rest of the water, and the pools of water then floated up into bubbles suspended in the air before evaporating into the sky. I used my other hand to wave over the tiny cuts on the arms and legs of this body, feeling them close back up. I removed the tiny specks of bloodstains from the shirt, and one last wave of my hand made the singed areas of the shirt good as new.

"How is our friend supposed to use your powers, then? You're the only one who would know, right? Since you're the Elemental?" Asra asked, taking a few steps to approach me.

I didn't turn around to acknowledge them, only crossing my hands behind my back as I stared up at the sky. "Play fights between trusted friends will do nothing. If the mage wishes to learn, they must find another way. It's been different for each elemental mage, so I cannot say what will work for this one," after a moment of silence in wait of a response, I added on, "I do not harm those that the mage does not wish me to harm. Ultimately they control me, even when I'm in control of their body. Their subconscious still directs my actions and I obey it always, without fail." With that direct statement, I simply let out a breath and relinquished control over the body, letting it fall limp and unconscious to the ground once more. The two friends made their way to watch over the body and bring it somewhere comfortable, waiting for their friend to wake up once more.

[ren-c-leyn]

To Avenge the Sun

It’s been a long time since I’ve done a fusion story, so, here we go. This one is done using this prompt by @clean-prompts, this prompt by @oopsprompts, these 1,2 prompts by @scandy-prompts, this prompt by @givethispromptatry, this prompt by @inspiring-prompts, and this prompt by @promptsforthestrugglingauthor.

 It’s a comedic fantasy adventure about slaying a vampire... when you aren’t really a competent hunter. That being said, there is a death, some injuries mentioned, one of the heroes gets captured, but there’s nothing really gory or detailed.

~

 I still remember that day. I was sitting on the porch, relaxing after our latest adventure. The clouds drifted lazily past, forming shapes as they went. And then... it happened.

 Without warning, the sun broke- shattered into a hundred pieces. And all I could do was watch in horror, as the pieces drift over the horizon. The light dimmed instantly, and faded away as the little pieces vanished. I was left sitting in the dark, trying to piece together what had happened when the echoes of footsteps came up beside me.

 “Well, it looks like I’m killing a vampire today.”

 I nearly choked on my coffee.

 “What do you mean, kill a vampire today?! And how would you kill a vampire anyways?”

 “Never heard of a knife?”

 I just stared at where I figured my partner’s face was. Though, I quickly realized it was pointless. In this darkness, they couldn’t see my shocked and disappointed expression.

 “The sun just exploded... and you want to kill a vampire?”

 “To avenge the sun, duh.”

 “What makes you think a vampire destroyed the sun?”

 “Who else would have means and motive?” 

 I sighed.

 “I don’t know... maybe a dark wizard who hated mornings or something.”

 “Well... sure, maybe. But I’m betting it’s that vamp we heard about, Lord... whatshisface.”

 “I sincerely doubt that’s his name.”

 “Whatever, point still remains. He was into weird magic, killing worshippers of the sun goddess, and generally bad stuff. So, even if he isn’t the guy who killed the sun, it’s probably a good idea to deal with him before he deals with us.”

 That... was a point I couldn’t argue with.

 “I suppose you have a point... but we’re not equipped to deal with vampires.”

 “Don’t be so negative! We’re equipped for battle, we’ve handled tough monsters.”

 “Ones that we more brute force and less magic and weirdness!”

 I heard them shrug.

 “Things could always get worse.”

 “Which is why we’re going to do something very stupid....”

 “Better to die a fool than a coward! Now let’s get started. Where do you keep the torches?”

 We fumbled around for a while, gathering supplies and gearing up. I had a bad feeling about this, taking a vampire in eternal darkness, but I couldn’t let my friend go alone, either. The story of how I became an adventurer....

 We stopped by the local temple, picked up holy water, and made our way into the twisted forest where the vampire lord... whatever his name was, was supposed to live. It felt kind of rude, barging into someone else’s house to kill them. But then again, destroying the sun was pretty rude too, if my companion was correct about who did it.

 We wandered through the forest for what felt like forever. My torch was beginning to burn low and they had finally lit their own.

 “Are we lost?”

 “No! I know exactly where we are… I think.”

 “So we are lost. Wonderful.”

 “Hey, if navigating without the sun is so easy, why don’t you come up here and lead the way!”

 “Navigating without the sun isn’t easy, which is why I wanted to stay home and leave vampire hunting to an expert.”

 “Yeah, but....”

 A flapping sound silenced our argument. We both stopped and held our breathes, listening. Whatever was flying around us was big. Really big. Every once in a while I could catch some glimpse of movement, but never could focus on the creature.

 “Get ready, it’s coming,” they whispered.

 I nodded and readied my spear. My muscles tensed as I held the torch higher and sunk into a battle stance, preparing to lash out at whatever beast came forth. The flapping sound filled our ears, making it hard to tell where the creature was. I swallowed and swept my gaze around our small circle of light, searching for it.

 But none of it mattered in the end.

 The claws sunk in from behind me. Something between a yelp and a scream escaped me as the impact sent my torch hurdling towards the ground. Dead shrubs and leafless trees fed the hungry flames, casting horrifying shadows across my friend’s face as they shouted.

 “You let go of my adventuring buddy right now, you stupid bat!”

 Bat?

 I looked up, but all I could see was a deep darkness above me. Occasionally a patch of dark fur would gain an orange sheen from the fire. Using those patches to guide me, I thrust up with the spear. I knew it punctured something, I felt it, but the creature didn’t so much as flinch. It just picked up speed. Before I could blink, the growing fire was a mere speck behind us.

 Desperate, I ripped the spear back out and stabbed it again. And again. And again. Nothing happened. There wasn’t even blood. Just those sickening sounds. The fifth, or maybe sixth, time I stabbed, it gave me an annoyed sigh. 

 When I began to pull the spear out, there was a set of glowing red eyes staring at me. The upside down bat face was ugly, and creepy, and maybe a little scary.... It squinted, or maybe glared at me. I glared back. Out of defiance, or maybe annoyance at the way this entire day was going, I pulled on the spear more. It glared harder, but I finished pulling the spear out. There was a moment where I was sure it was basically saying ‘don’t you dare,’ but my friend’s rebellious nature had rubbed off on me. I stabbed up again.

 But this time, it went terribly.... The bat began spinning, doing barrel rolls, flying up really steeply before dropping down towards the earth. I would have been screaming loud enough for the entire forest to bear witness to my terror, except I couldn’t force the air out of my lungs. Before long, I felt terribly sick. Dizzy, disoriented, if I could see anything it probably would have been spinning. My spear was long since abandoned, probably sitting somewhere in a dead tree. And eventually, I just passed out.

 When I came to, I was in a strange, candle-lit room. I still felt off. Tired, still kind of sick, mostly dizzy. And there was a weird, pale, greyish, dead-looking guy sitting in a fancy chair, staring at me with red eyes. He grinned, showing his fangs.

 “Have fun on your flight over the forest?”

 “No, but I bet you had a good time watching it, Lord... Whateveryournameis.”

 He gave me that same glare that the ugly bat did.

 “My name is Silvan.”

 “Sil, then.”

 “Silvan.”

 “Yes, Sil for short.”

 He groaned.

 “Humans are impossible, adventuring ones more so.”

 “Can’t argue with that,” I replied. “So, what’s the deal, Sil? Why’d you blow up the sun?”

 “Because mornings are annoying.”

 It was my turn to frown. I hated it when they were right... but he did do it because he hated mornings, so I was partly right to.

 “Just when I’m finally waking up, or finally have everything in place for my plans, morning comes and ruins it all. All of that color and sunlight. Bleh, night is better. Night is superior, and yet we must suffer through daylight.”

 I couldn’t help it. The giggles had started before I could stop them.

 “Is this a joke to you?”

 “I am laughing, aren’t I?”

 He frowned at me.

 “You can’t possibly be one of them....”

 “Them who?”

 He paused, leaning forward in the purple chair as his eyes went wide. In a hoarse whisper, he said two words.

 “Morning people.”

 I stared at him for a second and then laughed so hard I thought I was going to pass out again.

 “You are!” he shouted as he jumped to his feet. “No, no! I can’t have a morning person as a minion! You’ll be awake at those holy hours, singing and banging things around!”

 It went on passed that, but my laughter drowned most of it out. I wished he’d stop talking so I could catch my breath, but the longer he complained the harder I wheezed.

 “I will end you, sun lover!” he finished, drawing a sword from the back of his chair.

 My laughter stopped and I jumped to my feet, searching for a way out. But he was right in front of me before I could find one. The sword raised above his head but he paused and coughed up some blackished goop.

 “Ew!” I shoved him back. “Don’t cough that gunk up on me. Use the stupid sword if you’re going to kill me!”

 “I told you a knife would work!”

 The vampire turned on the new voice coming from the doorway.

 “You will pay for that!”

 Another knife knocked the sword out of the vampire’s hand, but didn’t stop Sil from punching my friend in the face. I heard a sickening crack as I searched for a weapon. Seeing only one, I grabbed the sword and rushed forward as fast as I could. My friend was stabbing the vampire with about as much luck as I had stabbing the bat, but I drove the sword through where I thought a heart should be and there was a horrible hacking sound before he turned to dust.

 Without the vampire there, I realized I was just pointing a sword at my friend... who was covered in black gunk. I tossed the sword aside and looked back at them.

 “Are you ok?”

 “Yeah, I’m fine.”

 “You’re bleeding though!”

 “You think my nose has never been broken before? I’m fine. Besides, we need to figure out how he broke the sun so we can get some mage to fix it.”

 “Fine, but at least let me set it... it’s really crooked.”

 They yelped as I set it straight before grinning.

 “I guess we’re vampire hunters now!”

 “No, we’re just lucky idiots.”

 “Fair,” they replied before heading off to find out what Silv... whatever his name was, did to the sun.

~

Taglist, feel free to ask to be added or removed:

@silvertalonwriteblr, @inspiring-prompts, @greenwood-writes, @wemitodd, @elkatheinkstained, @n1ghtcrwler, @writingiswilde, @say-no-to-negativity,  @wordshavings, @nemowritesstuff, @likelyfantasywriterspsychic, @dawnoftheagez, @orphicodysseywrites, @hannahs-creations, @writer-candy, @kaylewiswrites, @ravenpuffwriter, @tenacious-scripturient​, @ofinkblotsandscript, @mischiefiswritten,  @kespada, @asterannie

[luceirosdegolados]

You know fucking what??? I don't give a damn anymore! Here! Have some no-context no plot original writing bc I have stopped waiting for anyone else to give a shit so if maybe one you devils even glances at it I'd consider myself lucky.

-

The lizard grabbed Malena by the collar and took a stab at her. The blade almost cut through, but was slowed down by her frantic wriggling, and once feeling the prick of the steel, she sent a messy bust of force magic to her opponent's chest, just enough to make them stumble and free herself.

She immediately threw a kick at him, and then pulled out the lighting wand.

It fired with a flash of purple light that filled the whole room. Several people shouted at once.

The lizard wailed in pain and panted, going still at first and then gently rocking.

There was another shout of pain to her left, and a sharp, audible, angry "Fuck!" from a different mouth.

"Why do you always fucking do that?!"

She turned to see Mikrel with all color drained from his face, except for the multiple specks of blood across his mouth and brow. He was kneeling over a tough looking half-dwarf, his knee pressing hard against her back. He was holding one of her hands and the other had been pinned to the ground with his trusty knife.

Malena grimaced, "What about fucking that? You creep."

"It's effective!" he shot back, twisting the knife a little as if to prove his point.

The woman gritted her teeth and growled, but refused to scream again.

"Now tie her up so I don't have to keep doing it!"

Malena rolled her eyes but went ahead and tied up legs and arms of both thugs, even if one of them was unconscious and the other was in too much pain to do anything.

At the other side of the room there was a little circle staircase leading to the upper floor, and from down there one could see the red door that marked the boss' study.

"Let's go," she called, jogging up the stairs, "with the mess we've made I'd be surprised if he was still here..."

Mikrel, however, did not seem to be in a rush. Perhaps it was because he was limping a bit.

"Nah, this fucker's a scared little rabbit... I don't think he's moved from his secret spot in the study, but even if he has... we'll catch him. Rats don't have many friends."

He gave her a wicked smile from the bottom of the stairs, and wiped the bleeding lip with his sleeve before slowly heading up.

Malena, having lost her patience, blasted through the door with another charge of the wand. Unwise, maybe, but she was in the mood.

Mikrel shook his head, "Tch tch... oh well, whatever shall we do..." he paced around the room, examining trinkets and tearing sheets of paper, smearing ink on the floor and rummaging around drawers. There was no rhyme or reason to it though, nothing in particular he was looking for, instead more fixated in the floors and walls.

The window of the study was open. "See? He's fucked off."

Malena gave a moment's thought to the perverse expression in his face, and then smiled.

"I guess we could torch the whole thing, then," she said.

Somewhere near the desk there was a sharp breath.

"Ha! Good one. We've got ya, Storvi... you can come out now. Or we will torch the place for real."

Indau Storvi, a small elf gentleman previously concerned only with timber trade, now had a much larger list of worries; namely his life, his limbs, his old business and of course his own stupidity for having crossed what now was evident were the wrong people.

Greed always got people who didn't have the balls to back up their decisions.

Malena thought he looked rather sad, like school teacher, like a clerk. He reminded her of someone she couldn't quite pinpoint, with his round chin and receding hairline.

Still, watery eyes and all, that'd been the bastard who had had the gall to steal from the Patron's supply like it was nothing, such a stupid thing to do.

Mikrel was giving him the classic spiel; a short and scary reminder that in her opinion got the point across very effectively; whoever messes with Mikrel the Cruel is fucked and will remain fucked.

And Storvi was no exception.

She had to admit that, though Mik could drive her up the wall with his antics and scattered mind, he had a trait she found extremely attractive; he always tried to have fun while at work, and at that moment it was in full display. He had scared Storvi shitless and had even taken the time to pour the contents of two inkwells over his head. This made her chuckle.

At the sound, he looked up. The golden tooth was glinting.

"Oh yeah... my mage associate... maybe I should tell her to rip out your spine..."

"N-no please!"

Malena rolled her eyes at that, but smiled.

"What do you say? Wanna have a go at it?"

She shook her head, closing the distance between them and taking Mikrel's hand between hers. He winced, but didn't pull away.

"Nah... you're doing fine by yourself, but maybe, maybe a little help..." she kissed his knuckles softly, and there from the blood and grime, black rings of dark energy started to swirl around his fingers and hardened, like a set of temporary weapons, "a little flourish."

Mikrel let out a chuckle and observed his small gift, "Not bad, woman... Nice... very nice. What do you say, Storvi? Shall we try them out, you and I?"

[rrrawrf-writes]

we march, we march

this is the first part of something i’ve been working on for @kclenhartnovels​ ! a while back she wrote fodder for the earth, a short piece involving a couple of our rp characters and anyway it left me a sobbing mess so i wanted to get revenge, except then it got bIG

part one || part two || part three

trigger warnings under the cut

tw: war, death, blood, violence, assisted suicide

“You ever think we’re wrong about them?”

Tovi’s voice was barely audible. Banner was nearly asleep, but at her question, he sighed and opened his eyes again, staring up at the wheeling stars far, far above them. “What?” he whispered back.

Tovi was watching the stars, too. Sometimes, the wind caught the sparks from the campfire and whisked them overhead, and Banner only noticed when he spotted specks of light flashing in and out. The silence stretched nearly long enough for him to doze off again, when Tovi murmured, “What if we’re wrong? About - About mages, and magic?”

Banner heaved another sigh, closing his eyes. “Magic does nothing but harm, Farrier.”

“So do swords,” she murmured. “Crossbows. Spears. Your morning breath.”

“You’ve never gotten close enough to smell my morning breath, Farrier.”

“That’s how bad it is, Tadsson.” Tovi tried a chuckle, but it was a half-hearted, faint sound that died quickly. Banner couldn’t help a small smile, though it faded just as quickly. “They’re all just weapons,” Tovi went on, “but - but we’re the ones who use them to kill. What if magic’s the same way?”

Rubbing his face, Banner rolled over to look at Tovi, but she kept her gaze pointed stubbornly upwards. The camp was quiet, settling down for the night; their company had finally joined with the rest of the battalion, and Second Company was taking a well-deserved break from their nonstop marching for just one night. “Magic’s not a sword, Farrier.”

“It could be,” she grumbled, a bit sulky this time. She rolled onto her side, putting her back to Banner, and pulled her blanket up to her chin. “Forget it.”

Banner leaned back again, and looked at the stars. There was no moon tonight. Tomorrow, at dawn, he’d give his blood to the campfire, dedicating it to the dragons, and hope no one noticed, or said anything.

What if they were wrong?

---

Banner’s sword tore out of his hand. Startled, he cursed and lunged for it - they hadn’t even started fighting yet, and yet the Cords, still yards away, were already casting their damned magic. He swore again, dodging to the side as his sword abruptly flung itself back at him. He stumbled into Tovi, on his right, and she snarled a curse at him - but then her shouting took on a different tone, as he saw her sword rip from her grip.

This time, he grabbed her arm, and yanked her to his side. The soldier behind her wasn’t so lucky; the sword, wielded by some invisible source, buried itself in the man’s stomach.

“Taryn! Down!” Banner shouted, when he saw the same force pull Taryn’s sword from his hand. The idiot just stared at his empty hand for a moment, before glancing up - the blade went straight through his leg.

Banner was already whistling for a medic, and they hadn’t even met the damn Cords yet. And now a quarter of his company were down a weapon, several already falling back. Banner pulled a knife from his belt, heart in his throat, and moved to put himself between the oncoming army and his wounded soldiers.

They weren’t wrong. They couldn’t be wrong.

---

“ - right out of my hands -”

“Got Arnier right in the neck with her own arrow.”

“I’ll tell you this,” Tovi muttered under her breath, “I’m glad they retreated.”

Banner just nodded. He hadn’t found his sword; he’d picked one up from a Cordellan soldier he’d barely managed to kill with his knife and his fists, and it didn’t fit at his hip quite right. He’d get another sword - a better one - after the reserves were done picking over the battlefield and burning corpses.

They’d never found whatever mage - or mages - was tearing their steel weapons right out of their hands. Banner had been lucky. He knew how to fight swords with his fists. He was good at it. Tovi had fallen back and joined the archers with her crossbow, snapping the metal heads off her bolts. Now, as they walked, she was sharpening lengths of fletched wood, forgoing the metal heads entirely. Just in case that particular mage hadn’t died in this battle, and they met them again. Whoever the hell it was.

“Banner!”

His shoulders dropped with relief. Banner turned at the familiar voice, while Tovi walked a few paces without him, not realizing he’d stopped. Reme trotted around a campfire, catching up to them with a wince. She wrapped her arms around Banner.

“Rilsama’s Deeps,” she murmured breathlessly. Banner didn’t answer, just hugged her back tightly and buried his face in her shoulder. “Tides, Banner, I couldn’t find out where they stowed us. How is everyone?”

Reme was a sergeant; her squad had been on Second Company’s right flank, and pushed aside throughout the battle, separated from the rest. Banner didn’t immediately answer his sergeant. He didn’t let go, either, until she let out a breathless, pained laugh. “I got stabbed, Lieutenant, you need to let go.”

“Where?” Banner felt alarm tense in his stomach, but Reme just laughed again, pushing his hands away.

“It’s not bad,” she assured him. “Already saw the medics. What about you?”

“I’m fine.”

“You look like shit.” Reme glanced over at Tovi, and gave her a quick hug. “I heard the rumors - saw the mess, too. Is there really someone over there that magics metal?”

Tovi nodded, while Banner surreptitiously eyed Reme in the early morning light, trying to see where her wound was. “Got mine and Tadsson’s swords, both,” she said grimly. “Taryn’s, too,” she said grimly. “We didn’t see them.”

The battle had carried the mage away, most likely, but judging from the frightened, grim talk Banner had heard from soldiers and officers, the mage had ensured the Cords’ withdrawal, tangling horses and soldiers with their own metal, and preventing the Eolans from routing them completely.

Reme caught Banner staring, and sighed. “I’m fine,” she told him. “Just as fine as you are.” She poked his chest, and watched him fluinch, worry creasing her brow. “My squad is accounted for, Lieutenant. We only have one casualty, and she’s in the medics’ tent.”

“Who is it?” Banner asked anxiously.

“Halles. Broken leg.” Reme touched his arm. “She’s going to be fine, but she’ll probably be sent back to Wolf’s Romp until she’s healed up.”

Banner sighed. “I’ll go see her,” he said - he’d made sure the others in his company had made it to the medics’ tent, but he’d missed Halles. Reme caught his arm.

“Lieutenant, Marles knocked her out with half a flagon on sweetsap,” Reme told him. “Look, you’re hurt, too. Do we have a chance to rest?”

“M’fine -” Banner flinched and cut himself off as Reme gave his chest a tap. He pushed her hand away and muttered, “Medics already stitched me up. “We just talked with Captain Slate. Fifth Cohort reserves are gonna trail the Cords. We have a day to rest.”

“Just a day?” Tovi asked with grimace. “Gods. I’m gonna go to bed, then. If I’m allowed, sir,” she added hastily. Tovi was newly promoted to sergeant, and still getting used to her role. Banner gave her a tired grin.

“Go sleep,” he told her. “Fifth’s on watch until midday. Pick out replacements from your squad to take over then, and make sure they all sleep.”

“Yes, sir.” Tovi gave him a quick salute, little more than her fist tapping her chest, before she left. Banner glanced back to Reme.

“You need to rest, too,” he said, still staring to try and find where she’d been hurt. Reme huffed.

“Only if you rest with me,” she told him quietly. He hesitated, then nodded. All his soldiers had been seen to, except Halles, and now he knew Reme was safe. He nodded again when she tugged on his arm, and followed after her.

---

As he watched, the life left the fire mage’s eyes, her breath rattling in her throat. Banner stepped back, her weight pulling at his sword until she slid off the blade and crumpled to the ground at his feet.

Around him, the fire still raged.

Smoke choked the air, and the water-soaked cloth over Banner’s mouth was no longer doing him any good. He flinched as a gust of wind brought smoke and sparks blowing into his face, and coughed as he stumbled backwards.

“Sir!” Brody caught Banner’s arm. He had no protection over his face, but the fire didn’t seem to be bothering him much at all. “Sir, we have to hurry - we’re cut off -”

Banner had sent the rest of the company to retreat; he and Brody were lagging behind, because Banner had seen an opening, and Brody was stupid enough to follow him. He stumbled after the scout, the two of them clinging tightly to each other. The fires raged out of control, eating up the tall pines around them, dry from the summer heat, as quickly as they could. Banner had thought that once the mage died, the flames would, too - but now they only raged even faster, even more violently.

He yanked Brody back as a group of Cord soldiers nearly ran into them, just as panicked as they were. One woman stepped forward on instinct when she recognized their black and red uniforms, but she and Banner only exchanged a cursory blow or two before the group peeled away again, and she ran after. 

“Brody!” Banner grabbed the back of his shirt. The idiot was just standing there, staring at a line of fire off to their right as if hypnotized. And as Brody just watched, the flames flared and roared, reaching hungrily for them. Swearing, Banner yanked Brody along and they ran.

He had no idea where they were going. He could barely see through the smoke, he just knew that they had to get out of there, they had to get away from the fire, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t see -

“Sir!” Brody tugged on Banner’s arm, and he followed blindly. Brody moved with more surety through the choking smoke, while Banner stumbled along behind him, coughing. He wasn’t so blind that he didn’t see the wall of fire Brody pulled him towards. Banner balked. “Scout -”

“Look!” Brody kept pulling him along, until Banner saw the narrow break in flames; coal and ash littered the ground where the fire had already raged through. 

They bolted for it. Banner’s hand slipped from Brody’s shoulder, and he gripped the scout’s hand instead, so he could keep track of Brody as they blundered through the smoke and ash. The heat of the flames this close was unbearable. Banner thought he would burn alive after all; he gasped for breath, and heat seared his lungs, ash clogging his throat. He stumbled, and Brody pulled him long, panting, “Almost there, sir, just keep moving -”

And then they were through. 

The air wasn’t that much cooler - but it felt like pure relief. The two soldiers stumbled further along, before Banner dropped to his knees, tearing the cloth away from his face and coughing heavily.

“Sir, are you okay?” Brody asked anxiously, hovering over him. He sounded fine, but when Banner opened his mouth to reply, he could only make a painful rasp.

He scrubbed at his eyes, streaming with tears, and looked up to Brody. The scout looked worried, reaching down to help Banner up - but then his eyes darted over Banner’s shoulder. Brody’s face paled, as Banner felt a growing heat at his back.

“Sir, we have - we have to go,” Brody said urgently. He pulled Banner to his feet, running again with the lieutenant’s hand in his. Banner looked over his shoulder.

The fire raged toward them now, against the wind. It disregarded the nearby trees, the easy fodder, and raced along bare, stony ground that had been cleared for farming and travel before the war. Banner sucked in a deep breath and searched for any new energy he could summon, his feet pounding against the gravel.

The river was only sixty feet away. Banner gripped Brody’s hand tighter, and they leapt together, down a sheer drop into the raging waters twenty feet below.

---

The out-of-control fires broke both armies into splinters. After Banner and Brody were nearly burned alive, the river did its best to drown the two men. The sun was just rising, a smoky, blood-red dawn, when Banner dragged himself and Brody out of the water.

To his surprise, they found Marles and Reme an hour later, after angling back towards the main battlefield. The medic hovered over a Cordellan soldier gasping for breath, stitching a nasty leg wound shut.

“Banner!” Reme scrambled to her feet, and Banner stopped supporting Brody long enough to wrap his arms around her, stifling a sob. He pressed his face against the side of her head, just glad to see that she’d survived. He was almost as glad to see that Marles had, too.

“You’re shaking,” Reme noted. “And soaking wet.” She tightened her arms around him nonetheless. Banner opened his mouth, but nothing came out; he just crushed her to him all the closer.

A scout had told Marles where the army was coalescing again. Reme, as one of Banner’s sergeants, had sent the rest of the company off with Sergeant Farrier, and remained behind with Marles. The medic looked up from the groaning soldier he tended, and barked at the two men to sit down. Reme, under his orders, poured tincture after tincture down their throats, smoothing a honey-based salve over Banner’s burns and wrapping Brody’s twisted ankle as tightly as she could. 

Banner couldn’t make himself speak, and not just because of the pain in his throat. He looked around as Reme smeared a poultice over a gash on Brody’s head.

Dead bodies surrounded them. Ash covered corpses from both countries like snow, and the ground was soaked with blood. So many had died here.

And yet, somehow, Banner knew the war would continue after this. It wouldn’t end  - it would never end. The two countries might call a truce, or one side declare themselves the winner. But only a few years later - maybe a decade, maybe only a handful - war would erupt again. It always did. It always had. More people would die. More by his blade. More of his friends. It wouldn’t end, it was never going to end -

“Banner.”

He flinched at the touch on his shoulder. Banner tore his gaze away from a soldier with a spear straight through their guts. When he looked up at Reme, all he saw was her on the ground, bleeding from a wound in her stomach. His breath caught.

Reme frowned, then put her hands over his eyes. Banner winced again, but didn’t push her away. His hands curled into fists on his thighs. This was Reme. It was okay. “Banner,” she repeated, quietly. “Just breathe.”

He felt Reme’s hands trembling. Banner covered them with his own, then ran his hands over her wrists, tugging lightly until she sat down next to him with a thump. He tipped his forehead against hers, and she moved her hands down to rest on his shoulders. Banner kept his eyes closed.

“No - No, please -”

The Cordellan soldier’s protests were faint, but growing louder. Marles gave an aggravated sigh.

“I know it hurts,” he growled. “But you’ll be fine -”

Banner tried to ignore their conversation, ignore the soldier’s whimpering. He focused on the sound of Reme’s breath, instead, but then, after a few moments, Marles called, “Lieutenant.”

He couldn’t ignore Marles. Banner pulled away from Reme and picked his way across the field, trying to avoid the lifeless eyes and the burnt corpses all around them. “What is it?”

Marles looked up from the soldier, who clutched at the medic’s wrist. “The lieutenant will take care of you,” Marles said gently, prying the soldier’s hand off of him as he stood. He looked at Banner with a weary expression, heavy with grief. 

“I can’t harm them,” he told Banner quietly. Banner just stared, confused. “They’d be fine if they - if they let me stitch them up, but…”

Marles sighed, looking off to the side. “They don’t want me to. You’ll have to take care of it.”

“Of - Of the stitching?” Banner felt like he grasped only a corner of what Marles was trying to say. The medic glared at him, the look he wore whenever he deemed somene to stupid to understand - but then it softened. Marles put a hand on one of the knives Banner wore at his belt, pulling it free, and pressed it into Banner’s hand.

“Deep cut,” he said quietly. “Right across the throat. I don’t have the herbs to spare.”

Banner stared at him. “What?”

Marles sighed. “Gods, it’s a good thing you’re pretty.”

Reme, as usual, picked it up quicker, and laid a hand on his arm. “Banner, I can do it -”

“No.” He finally realized what Marles meant, and looked to Reme, shaking his head. She looked exhausted, just as exhausted as he felt, and -

And he couldn’t do that to her. He was her commanding officer. This was his duty.

“Go - Go check on Brody,” he said, glancing to see where the scout shivered by the river, with his wounded leg stretched out in front of him. Only once Reme and Marles walked away, did Banner kneel down.

He’d almost hoped the soldier had passed while he talked with the others, but they grinned up at him, blood staining their brown and blue uniform, spattered and drying across their face.

“I’m - I’m sorry,” they panted. Marles’ administrations were halfway finished across the wound in their hip and thigh. Their left arm ended in a cauterized stump. “I know it’s - a lot to ask.”

Banner didn’t say anything. Small rocks and pebbles trembled around them with each breath the soldier took; when Banner lifted his gaze a little further, he recognized the badge of the Cordellan Mage Corps on the soldier’s leathers. Earth mage, he thought numbly, and didn’t move.

The soldier shifted his remaining hand until it touched Banner’s knee. He flinched.

“You don’t need to hesitate,” they said. They squinted at Banner’s face, and sighed. “Torrhen’s Flames, you’re so young.”

Banner didn’t feel young. He didn’t know what he felt like, as he stared down at the soldier he was supposed to kill. His hands shook. “You - You’re sure?” he asked, his voice coming out as nothing but a thick, raspy whisper.

The soldier smiled. Under the blood and dirt, Banner could see their grey hair, the lines in their face. “I’ve buried so many of you,” they murmured, and closed their eyes as a wave of pain wracked their body. “I’m sorry. I thought - I thought you were all nothing more than dogs.”

The words should have hurt. Banner put his hand over the soldier’s, feeling nothing but numbness. “Marles - Marles can help you.”

The soldier bit out a pained laugh. “I know that,” they said, their voice strained. “I can’t - I can’t do this anymore.” The earth trembled beneath them, but weakly. “I’ve - I’ve killed so many. Trapped their souls - please. Please forgive me.”

Banner stared at the badge on their chest, at the rocks near their head that rattled just slightly with every breath. Magic was evil. Earth mages were some of the worst - an Eolan soldier who was not properly burned after death would have their soul trapped deep, deep in the earth. He was supposed to hate mages. He was supposed to kill mages. This should be easy. Why wasn’t this easy?

What if we’re wrong? Tovi’s voice murmured in the back of his head.

Banner dragged his gaze up to meet the soldier’s eyes. Blue, like the smoke-smudged sky above them.

“I forgive you,” whispered Banner.

The soldier smiled. “You’re a good soldier,” they said quietly. “A good man. I’m so sorry it has to be this way. You don’t - You don’t deserve to be put through this, too.”

Banner squeezed the soldier’s fingers. “You don’t have to die.”

“I can still cast without a hand.” The soldier closed their eyes as another shudder ran through their body. “They’ll only use me until I've been sucked dry. A well in the middle of summer. I’ve a letter in my pouch, Finish it. Send it to - to Finns, when you can. Tell my husband I’m - I’m sorry. I loved him. But we both knew I wouldn’t come home this time.”

Banner nodded. His stomach twisted. This - This was wrong. Marles should be bandaging them up - they’d keep them prisoner until the war was over, and then they could send the soldier home to their husband -

“Hey.” Their voice was weaker this time. Banner reluctantly focused on their face again, as the soldier gripped his hand with a sudden, painful tightness. “Don’t lose your focus, boy. Do your job.”

Banner put the knife to the soldier’s neck, remembering Marles’ words, remembering the times he’d done this before, remembering that - that they were a mage. They’d killed plenty of Banner’s people. They deserved this.

He didn’t want to do it. Tears blurred Banner’s vision. The soldier smiled at him, then closed their eyes, dropping their head back. Softly, they murmured, “Good dog.”

Banner pushed the knife into their throat. The stones around them fell still. The soldier’s hand slipped from his, hitting the earth with a soft thump.

[four-loose-screws]

FE4 Suzuki Novelization Translation (Gen II) - Chapter 12

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———————————

Chapter 12 - Emperor Arvis

Fee, who'd been flying behind Altena, guided her pegasus up next to Altena's dragon. She had something she wanted to say.

When Altena looked at her, Fee signaled, 'look ahead and to the left.'

Altena nodded and looked left, where she saw the figures of about twenty people that looked like little specks in the distance. They seemed to be running.

'Is something chasing them?' Altena wondered, then signaled, 'let’s go that way.'

Whenever the liberation army began to march, the two of them would always fly up and gather reconnaissance. This day was no exception, and they had traveled towards the strait to investigate the empire's position.

They changed directions, and after flying a short distance, the pursuers appeared - a unit of dark bishops.

'They're about to attack!' Altena signaled, to which Fee replied, 'Understood.'

As they moved towards their destination, they also gained altitude.

When the time was right, Altena, who'd flown ahead, dive bombed.

The enemies noticed them, but because they were surrounded by grassy plains, there was nowhere for them to hide.

First, Altena thrust and delivered a killing blow with Gáe Bolg. Fee followed up and attacked another enemy with a silver lance. When they u-turned, one of the remaining enemies cast a black magic spell, and Fee's pegasus took the impact.

'A wound this small is nothing!’

Once Fee had flown high enough into the air again, she aimed at the enemy and dive bombed.

-

"Look Mister, dragon knights are beating up the enemies!"

"They're not dragon knights! They're Crusaders!"

"Nuh-uh! They're Thracian dragon knights!"

'Our prayers have been answered.' When Palmark opened his eyes, he saw a pure white pegasus swooping down.

"Yaaaay!"

"That's a Crusader! They're white, see? So they aren't dragon knights!"

Next, a blue dragon performed a divebomb.

The two aerial warriors defeated the dark mages, then once again gained altitude, and flew away.

"Huh? The dragon knights flew away!"

"Nuh-uh! I told you, they're Crusaders!"

"Hey, Mister, why didn't they come save us?"

"Just wait, everyone. The Crusaders still have enemies that they must fight. If we wait, they'll come save us for sure. Until then, we must be patient."

-

At that same time, a grueling battle was unfolding on the bridge over the strait.

The first able to cross the bridge and charge were the imperial armored knights. However, because they started on the bridge, it was impossible for them to spread out, and they were quickly pushed back.

'At this rate, should we switch to a swift counterattack, or wait until after we've weakened the enemy forces a little more?' Seliph needed to make a decision right away. 'This is the beginning of our fight in Grannvalian territory. Even if the enemy is risking their honor, they're probably trying to wait it out and gauge our abilities. There's no question that a calvary unit is very likely waiting behind the knights. If we go too far, we'll surely take a terrible counterattack.'

"Listen up, everyone, only the calvary will fight! But do not fully cross the bridge! Once you've finished your attack, lower the bridge, and stand by on the sands of the opposite shore.”

At Seliph's orders, the calvary attacked in turns, crushing the enemy's initial charge. But, just like Seliph had suggested, they did not fully cross the bridge, instead getting off half way, then went on standby at the beach on the left side of the strait.

Soon after, the second wave of enemies started their attack, and sure enough, there were calvary among them, just as Seliph had thought there would be.

Seliph waited in front of the bridge and defeated each incoming enemy one by one.

Before long, the enemy army tired out.

"All units, attack!!" Seliph shouted, stood as leader of the charge, and crossed the bridge, slicing through the enemy's formation.

Next, sword fighters and mages rushed towards them, and in response, the cavalier unit on standby finally went in to finish the fight.

At the same time, Altena returned and reported, "There's about twenty children on the edge of a cape to the east! Fee and I eliminated a group of dark mages that was chasing them. Because the fight near the bridge was about to start, we came back without confirming this, but there's a chance they may be the children taken from Thracia."

"Then let's go and see if we can confirm that’s true!" Seliph said without a moment's hesitation.

"Shannan, please take command and surround Chalphy Castle. But I want you to wait until I return to attack."

Seliph ordered his horse to gallop as his thoughts continued to race. 'I really want them to be the Thracian children.'

-

A large group of children turned towards Seliph and waved.

He jumped off his horse and asked, "Are you okay, everyone?"

They all cheered in unison, then rushed towards him.

"You're all okay? Thank the gods. Thank the gods…"

"I thank you for saving the children. I am Palmark, the bishop of Chalphy. The children told me they were taken from Thracia."

"Really? So you've been taking care of them? We hurried here to try and rescue them, so I'm happy they're safe. It is me who should be thanking you."

"No, I was merely following Emperor Arvis' orders."

"Arvis' orders?"

"Yes, His Majesty has been against the child hunts since the very beginning."

"Really?" Seliph asked. 'Lewyn was right. Julius… no, Loptous, really was the one to order the child hunts.'

"By the way, I heard that Lord Sigurd's son is a member of the liberation army."

"Ah, yes! I apologize for not introducing myself right away. I am Sigurd's son, Seliph."

"There is no doubt in my mind that this is yet another reason you were led to me. I actually have something to give you." Palmark said, and handed over the sword Arvis had given him.

"This-This is…!" It was the first time he'd ever see the sword, yet he felt as if he remembered it. And not just that he'd seen it before, but also held it, and knew how it felt to swing it.

"It is. It is Holy Sword Tyrfing, the sword passed down through your family.”

"I knew it…" Seliph took the sword, then grabbed the hilt and unsheathed it.

A dazzling light enveloped both the sword and its wielder as Seliph felt warmth flow through his body.

'This is the moment I become a Crusader.'

Once his entire body felt warm, Seliph resheathed Tyrfing.

"Why did you have this sword…?"

"There are many reasons… But I made a promise with a certain someone, so I cannot share them. All I can say is, they do wish for you to have it."

'Impossible, Arvis wanted me to have this…?' Seliph thought.

The person he thought would be most likely to have Tyrfing was indeed Arvis, and it made sense that Arvis would want to give him Tyrfing if he also freed the children. But, if it really was Arvis who did those things, Seliph questioned why.

'Who in the world would give the person trying to kill them their Holy Weapon? Arvis shouldn't be the one wanting to give it to me. Maybe he has a special reason of some kind?’ No matter how much Seliph thought about it, he couldn't come up with one.

"I understand. Then I won't ask their name. By the way, where is Emperor Arvis right now?"

"He is in Chalphy Castle."

'So it really was Arvis? Still, why is the emperor protecting Chalphy Castle? No, it doesn't matter if that is suspicious or not. I can finally kill my father's murderer. What a turn of events this is… for the showdown between my father’s murderer and me to happen at my father’s castle, and at the same moment I obtain Tyrfing, ’

Seliph felt that fate was working in a strange, big way.

-

Seliph returned to his army, then ordered everyone to protect the castle.

He left the fight with the castle soldiers to the rest of the army, then waited for the castle gate to be destroyed.

Finally, the time came.

Seliph unsheathed Tyrfing and passed through the castle gate.

In the large reception hall at the entrance of the main building was Arvis.

"Arvis! I am Seliph, son of Sigurd!"

"So you are Seliph?"

Arvis said and closely looked him up and down, evaluating him. 'Is this young man the one? His voice and demeanor is the same as Sigurd's was back then, aren't they? He just might be the one to do it. He could make happen what I thought only I could do…'

Arvis recalled the first time he met Manfroy.

He'd come on the night that Arvis had turned fifteen, and inherited Valflame.

-

Manfroy appeared from a shadow that had formed on Arvis' bedroom wall. He then explained that Arvis' mother, Cigyun, had inherited Loptous' blood.

"And what of it?"

"Lord Arvis, that means that you inherited Loptous' blood as well. If that information were ever to be made public, you would be sentenced to execution by being burned at the stake…" Manfroy said with a quiet cackle.

"Did you come to threaten me?"

"No, not at all! I am the archbishop of the Loptr Church. How could I threaten as sacred a person as one who has Loptous' blood? I came to promise you control over the entire continent of Jugdral."

"Impossible. Such a thing is but a dream…"

"Oh, it is no dream. Though the Loptr Church is publically banned, we've recently come to be very powerful in the shadows of the world. We will give all of that power to you. Once it is yours, then anything you can think of will become reality. There's just one thing we want…"

"And what is that one thing?"

"That when you become ruler of the world, you must promise to officially recognize the Loptr Church."

"I cannot promise such a thing. Go away, shadow man. Or else…"

"I understand. Tonight, I will leave it at that. But please think it all over. Think about becoming the emperor, and creating your own ideal empire…" Manfroy said, then disappeared back into the shadow.

Since then, Arvis had begun to take an interest in topics such as the Loptrian Empire's history, and the current affairs of the Loptr Church. 

'The Loptrian Empire was undoubtedly bad. But I cannot fathom the idea that it is right to persecute the followers of Loptous after it fell. Just because they believe in Loptous, even those who’d done nothing wrong were burned alive…'

About three years later, members of the Loptr Church were executed in the imperial capital of Belhalla.

The victims were a young mother and her daughter, who looked to be only about three years old.

The girl's crying made Arvis cover his ears and run away.

That night, even after he went to bed, the memory of her cries kept him from being able to sleep.

‘If people knew the secret of my birth, then the exact same fate would be waiting for me. And if I had a child, then they too would be…'

Arvis rose from his bed, and said aloud, "I must put an end to this."

Not even a second later, Manfroy appeared once again.

After promising that he would officially recognize the Loptr Church, Arvis said, "But that is all I will do, Manfroy. I will not rebuild the Loptrian Empire. I will recognize your existence, but I will not entrust this world to the dark god, or any such thing. Do not forget that. Even if the blood of Loptous' family courses through my veins, it is the blood of Maira, who rose up against the empire. As the inheritor to both Fire Knight Fjalar and Crusader Maira's blood, I will change this world into one without discrimination, that anyone can easily live their lives in. I am the only one who can make that ideal a reality. It is for that reason alone that I am borrowing your power."

-

And so, for those reasons...

War and rebellion occurred all across Jugdral, killing many people.

'It was all for the purpose of building my ideal kingdom. Killing this young man's father was also for that purpose.'

After a long war, Jugdral unified, and Arvis worked as hard as he could to make his ideal a reality. At first, it went very well.

However, on that fated day...

Manfroy appeared carrying a black spellbook, and all of his ideals began to move in the opposite direction.

Arvis knew he had been betrayed, and tried to do something to change what was happening. However, his opponent's power was far greater, and all of his attempts failed.

There was only one path left: to entrust everything to the young man before him. He'd already given him Tyrfing. Now, he just had to give to Julia her birthright...

The youth raised the Holy Sword and slowly came closer.

In his face, Arvis saw Deirdre's features.

'So there really was something between Deirdre and Sigurd…'

At the Battle of Belhalla, when Sigurd had seen Deirdre, his face changed color.

'This man knows Deirdre.' Arvis had realized it right away. Deirdre also appeared to be searching her mind for her lost memories.

Arvis panicked and forced Deirdre to stand down before ordering the attack on the rebel army.

Because he'd loved Deirdre with all his heart, her memories had made Arvis suffer for a long time.

'What kind of relationship did they have?'

But Deirdre did not have her memories and could not confirm anything with him, so he’d succumbed to feelings of excessive jealousy at the time.

However, now, he strangely did not feel jealous.

'My ideals will live on in Deirdre and Sigurd's son. That is probably one more twist of fate. No matter the paths I could have taken, I can no longer turn back. The only path I have left is the one I chose.'

Purposefully seeping hatred into his voice, Arvis said "You've done well to make it this far. I praise you for your bravery. However, just wielding Tyrfing does not make you invincible. Long ago, my Valflame still set fire to your father, even though he had Tyrfing at the time. Your fate will be the same. You are both pitiful creatures. Now, come face me!"

While he spoke, Arvis prayed, 'Fire God Salamander, grant this young man power.'

The moment Arvis finished his words, Seliph lept in the air, aiming at his foe's chest.

Seliph was engulfed in a scorching fire, but he still managed to swing Tyrfing one time, two times, then once more.

Suddenly, the fire vanished.

"Deirdre… Julia…" Arvis whispered, then collapsed on the floor.

-

When the townspeople heard the news that the emperor had been killed and Chalphy Castle was returned to Sigurd's orphaned son, they all crowded around the castle, one after the other.

When Seliph raised the castle gate, both the townspeople and the soldiers of the liberation army all yelled in unison, "Long live Prince Seliph!" 

They repeated it over and over again so many times that he thought they would never stop.

"How do you feel? Has avenging your father satisfied you?" Lewyn asked that night at the dinner table.

"To be honest, I don't feel very satisfied. Until now, I thought that killing Arvis myself and clearing my father's regrets would make me happier than anything else in the world. But now that it's finally happened, I don't feel as satisfied as I'd imagine. Rather, I feel a bit empty…"

"That's because your heart has overcome its hatred.You also recognize that Arvis was another pawn of fate. I didn't plan on telling you this, but now, I sympathize with him. That's how I knew that you had overcome your hatred, and I'm happy for you.

“This also means one more important thing. By overcoming your hatred, you have gained the qualities of a king."

"What does that mean?"

"You remember how happy the townspeople were today, correct? That's not just their happiness over their oppressor's death. Even if it was through rumors, stories of your words and deeds until now have spread, and the people have accepted them. And the way everyone talks to you has changed recently, right? They've begun to respect you."

"You praise me too much. I cannot allow myself to be happy right now, can I? Julia is still missing, and the war is not over yet."

"Yes, of course, that is true. Especially because you could say that the real battle has yet to begin…"

[royaltealovingkookiness]

Remember the mage from the first episode who discovered Dark Magic? The white strands of hair, the anguish on his face?

It seems to me that somehow there are two types of Dark Magic. One that allows you to perform fun spells to make fluffy pancakes and magic chains, or even warm the earth to make abundant crops without taking a physical toll. The blood price is paid by the creature destroyed to perform the spell. Both Claudia and Viren have been for long practicing all kinds of dark magic without physical signs (unless the specks of white in Viren’s goatee is from an earlier spell - maybe whatever it was that killed the Dragon King?).

But there seems to be a point or type of Dark Magic that exacts a personal price - that shows in external signs. It seems both Viren and Claudia crossed that line in the finale. For Viren, it’s understandable. He had gone far from serving the good of Katolis through dubious means to performing magic without restraint for his personal ambitions for power and knowledge. 

For Claudia, who heals her brother, it is less clear what is the line she crosses. Is the deer she kills exacts a higher price than the lesser creatuers she used for her spells before? Does she do an experimental spell that is beyond her power and understanding?

I hope the next seasons will explain this. There is a commonality though between the two. They both do a spell that goes against the choices of the people that it is directed at. Viren reanimates the assassins to force the other four kingdoms into war through fear, where persuasion failed. They chose peace, and Viren couldn’t accept their choice.

While Claudia healed Soren, when he accepted being immobilized as a consequence of his own actions. She was the one who couldn’t accept it, and performed the magic without his consent. Claudia seems to be starting down the road Viren did with Harrow. She acts out of love for her brother, but she wants to protect him from the consequences of his own decisions (like she did when she performed the tracking spell on the arrow that shot the dragon, which then snowball into larger consequences; like Viren did to Harrow when he suggested to take the Titan’s heart).

I wonder if that white strand in her hair means she crossed a line where there is no turning back from or is simply a warning sign that the magic she used will start to consume her as well.

[a-robin-among-thorns]

Request 4:Battle Wounds

Requested By @demonic-chaos

Word Count:1,750...I had a bit too much fun here ^^;

Content Warning: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Despite what Renfred so often liked to accuse, Elias was not a violent person by choice. There were, of course, situations that forced his hand. Much like the one he found himself in now. He was unsure if there was ever a peaceful solution to be had when crossing paths with a territorial manticore, but he knew there was no chance he would find one today.

It had been pure bad luck that Elias had stumbled across the mismatched creature trouncing around the outskirts of the forest while he had been gathering components. He suspected it had somehow become misplaced from its Arabic homeland, perhaps in an even shadier than average auction transition. The church would have had him become involved sooner than later and he definitely did not want the man-eating beast lurking within a hundred miles of Chise.

But still, something of this nature is much easier to deal with when one is prepared, Elias thought as the beast’s swollen red stinger zoomed just past his shoulder.

The beast retracted its scorpion tail and reared back on its thick lion legs before landing down releasing a ghastly howl. Its face was human-like, as is someone had sawed off the face of an emaciated young man and sewn it to the neck of the lion body. Green strings of saliva hung from is cracked lips as it panted bodily.  

Elias sidestepped around the creature’s defensive position, slowly drawing his wand. No neighbors would come to his aid at this moment, he would have to draw on his power alone. The beast’s gold eyes, much too large for his human face, followed his every movement. Now or never.

He thrust his wand forward. "Nettle in the shadow. False hol-Ah!"

Heavy paws and claws crashed into his shoulders knocking aside his wand as he fell downward. Some instinctual fraction of good sense reminded him to raise his head slightly to prevent his horns from jamming and possibly cracking, into the soil. As luck would have it, that sense also moved his head in time to miss the stinger as it bolted forward and became deeply embedded into the earth.

Drops of stringy saliva brought the mage’s attention back to the beast hanging over him. Just in time to see its lips crack open across its face as it unhooked its jaw. Ah, so that was how this creature managed to swallow humans whole. Elias would just have to be bigger than a human then.

In an instant the liquid shadows that made up Elias’ body expanded, sprawling outward in jagged thorns and spikes. This didn’t stop the creature's trajectory resulting in its humanoid teeth clamping against the plumage and neck where Elias’ skull had been a second earlier. The teeth were blunt but the force behind them still threatened to knock the wind out Elias. He ignored the pain focusing on his thorns as they wound and spun around the beast prying its body of by an inch. Exactly enough for Elias to free his arms.

His right hand plunged into the beast’s side like a harpoon. Distantly, he noted the jaws of the creature unclamping from his shoulder while a sharper pain set in his external ribs. He ignored it, gripping his jaws around its neck and surging his hand into the beast’s hide deeper and deeper as it screeched and howled. Finally, his claws grasped the throbbing mass they had searched for and tugged. It fought furiously to free itself but the grip of Pilum Muralis was vice even against thick ropes of tendon and muscle.

Elias could feel muscles against his hand and tongue go limp as he ripped the beast’s heart free of its chest. A final hiss like a deflated balloon choked out of its mouth. With a definitive yank, Elias broke the organ free of the vessels connecting it. He was unlearned if the beast expressed healing capabilities but he did not wish to leave anything to chance.

Only after the heart ceased its residual beating did Elias finally release his grip, both on the creatures neck and disembodied organ. He made to sit on his haunches to inspect the damage...well damn. This could pose a problem.

----

The gathering basket fell to her feet in a clatter of herbs and vegetables. Her hands clasped over her mouth as Chise inspected the scene before her in horror. Her ring had alerted her the instant Elias had been injured and she had rushed to find him. She couldn’t have possibly imagined this.

Elias lay on his side, his body taking the huge form she had not seen since their first encounter with Cartaphilus. Blood seeped from his shoulder and coated his hand. Not an arm's length away laid the slain manticore, it’s open throat and chest already being scoured by mushroom-like fae. All of this was awful. But not quite as awful as the sight of the beasts stinger embedded in Elias’ external ribs.

She fell upon him in a flush, cupping her hands against the corners of his jaw. To her great relief, his eyes flickered at the contact opening up to meet her. “...Chise..?”

Chise felt a mountain lift from her shoulders. “Elias, thank god you’re alive.” She leaned her forehead against his own, grateful beyond words to feel his rumbling breath tickle her belly. She finally pulled away, still cupping his jaw, to look him in the eyes. “What happened here?”

“Lots of things,” he answered as he slowly propped his long arms to sit upright, “but mostly I was very unlucky today.” Chise was not pleased with the answer but her attention was quickly drawn to the heavy thud of Elias’ body collapsing back to the ground. A pained hiss slipped between his grinding teeth.

She shuffled to where the stinger, still attached to the beast’s tail was lodged into the lowest and smallest of Elias’ external ribs. An inch lower and it would have sunken into his belly, she thought with a shiver. She didn't know how potent the venom of a manticore was but bone should, in theory, spread it slower than blood. She hoped.

With steely resolve, she looked back to his eyes. “What do I need to do?”

“You’ll need to remove it without touching the venom." He rumbled in answer. "Try not to let it break off if you can.”

She fished her gardening gloves from her apron pockets and hurriedly put them on. Placing her right hand against his stomach for purchase, she felt him tense as she cautiously closed her dragon cursed hand round the bit of stinger closest to the embedment. Using the ancient strength of dragons made her nervous. One slip of concentration would render the stinger to keratinous shards.

She took a deep breath and slowly pulled. Inch by inch, centimeter by centimeter the stinger was removed from the bone. With a jerk, it unhooked from the bone leaving a dent filled with a shallow pocket of a troubling thin yellow liquid. But thankfully no blood.

Elias rose to look at her work and made to give her the next instructions. To his surprise, Chise was already at work pulling basil leaves from her bag of holding in one hand and her wand in the other. She peered around the treetops til stopping at one. “Will you help me?” She called offering up her palm. A gentle tinkling sounded as a Hawthorn spirit landed in her palm. Its eyes crinkled in a smile. They were often pleased to help their dear sleigh beggy.

Chise crushed the basil between her fingers and sprinkled it in the dent of bone. A spicy herbal scent filled the air as the powdered leaves fizzled in contact with the pooled venom. Holding her wand and the fae aloft she began to chant.

Seep and burn herbs of the earth.

Run deep and work the bezoar’s deed.

The magic of the queen bee sparkled and fizzed through the air landing on the specks of basil leaves. The herbal smell grew stronger as the fizzling leaves burned in bright yellow streaks. The light spread along the bone in spiderweb patterns followed by smoke like an incense burner. In a few minutes, the last of the smoke dissipated out of the bone leaving not a trace of venom.

The crease between Chise’s forehead smoothed as she sighed. “Thank you, friend.” The hawthorn squeaked happily and disappeared is a flash of sparkles.

Elias rose again in a smooth unhurried motion. “Well done Chise, I am very impressed at your progress.” He looked her over with a proud glimmer in his eyes. “And your ingenuity.”

Chise blushed, tucking a wild tuff of her bangs behind her ear. “I had made something similar for mother up the hill whose son was stung by a scorpion. I was worried it wouldn’t work without the rest of the catalysts or it just wouldn’t be strong enough for monster poison.”

Elias tilted his head, pondering. “If a normal mage would have attempted it, it may have not worked. Also calling on a forest fae was a smart decision.”

Chise would have basked in the praise a moment longer were it not for the spots of blood dripping from Elias’ neck. She reached into her bag once more and secured the gauze and cleaning agent she kept on her desk drawer. She walked to where he had lain his head earlier. “Can you lie back down on your stomach so I can patch up your neck?” He complied as Chise set to work on her knees.

Despite the second set of horns making the maneuvering somewhat awkward, Chise made quick work of the wounds. Once finished she removed her gloves and stuffed them in the apron pocket. She would have to remember to wash the whole kit later. “How does that feel?”

Elias experimentally twisted his neck here and there. “Much better. Thank you Chise.”

She smiled again as she sat criss-cross. “I don’t suppose you can change back yet?”

He haunched somewhat sheepishly. “Not yet, I don’t think.”

Chise held her hands out urging. He accepted the invitation without hesitation, settling his chin in her lap. “That's fine. I’ll stay here till you can.” His eyes muted pleasantly as she began stroking the top of his skull.

“Thank you Chise.” He said as his clean hand wrapped around her.

“And you can explain why you didn’t call me when you saw the manticore.” She teased.

“Urk!...Alright.”

[cakelanguage]

Can you believe it? I’m not dead and I’m updating the “Dorian as a young boy” fic that I’ve been neglecting for God knows how long. But chapter 5 is finally here!

First//Previous//Next

You can also read it on AO3

~~~~

While going with the Herald and his party was the safer option, Dorian felt dread trail his steps. As they moved further from Redcliffe, so did Dorian’s bit of safety. The insurance that at least Felix would treat him right and not as if he were a speck of dirt or a snake slithering by were getting slimmer and slimmer with each passing moment. Out here he was going to have to fend for himself.

Not that he hadn’t been fending for himself since he left Tevinter. He’d gotten here in one piece, though he’d lost quite a bit to get here. He was well in-tuned with the loss of gold that had pressed against his chest for the majority of his life. It wasn’t big in the grand scheme of things, especially if it meant he could help Felix, but he still privately mourned the loss of his birthright.

If he lost his birthright to get here, what else was he going to have to give up now that he was out of Redcliffe without Felix to help him? While the Chantry sisters barely tolerated him, they did give him small portions of food when he’d looked “particularly pitiful,” as one of the sisters would point out. Felix himself would always try to sneak food that he could without arousing suspicion. Would the Herald and his party do the same? They had agreed to let him come with them at Felix's request but he didn't know if he could trust their word.

“You’re thinking pretty loudly back there, kiddo,” Varric commented, slowing his pace to walk beside him. He actually was only a few inches shorter than Dorian was and he longed for puberty to give his height a well-deserved boost. “Care to share?”

Dorian worried his bottom lip between his teeth, shaking his head. “Nothing important,” Dorian replied.

Varric shook his head. “Kiddo, I’d like to say everyone here believes you,” the dwarf sighed, “but right now we don’t. We don’t have all the information and we’re running off the inconsistencies between Grand Enchanter Fiona’s offer and the mage rebellions current status and the word of two Altuses who are willingly going against a Magister, who happens to be one of said Altuses’ father.” Varric’s mouth quirked up in a sheepish smile. “It’s a little hard to believe.”

“So think of myself as insurance that if one of us were lying you have recompense.”

Varric looked at him sharply. “Hey, no kiddo, just wanted you to share what was going on in that head of yours.”

Dorian was silent for a moment as he thought of what to say. Should he lie and make up something? Or should he just be forthright with his feelings on what was going on? Lying probably wouldn't do him any good besides create a mask that he doubted he could keep up for long.

He sighed. “I was thinking about the fact that I’m leaving the last place I had any insurance of kindness.” When Varric didn’t say anything he took it as a nudge to continue. “I left my home, gave up something I never thought I’d have to in order to get here, and I was… sad to leave my country.” He let out a humorless chuckle. “I don’t expect you to understand. Tevinter is horrible how it is now, I’ll be the first to admit that. There isn’t enough acceptance, too much deceit hiding under honeyed tongues, and the slavery- don’t get me started on how awful that is. And no one’s doing anything or done anything about it. And Father always tells me that my beliefs would get me killed and that I will grow to accept it, but I haven’t.” He took a deep breath to halt his potential tirade. “But it is still my home, and I miss it.”

“No one is going to fault you for missing home. Hell, I miss Kirkwall and that place is sometimes like a steaming pile of nug shit.”

Dorian actually laughed at that. “Of course they will! They’ll think ‘of course he misses Tevinter, misses the slaves, the pampering, what a spoiled little snake!’ But I can handle missing home, that longing doesn’t come up often.” He sighed again. “But I had Felix back in Redcliffe, even if it was for only short spans of time when he could sneak away. But it was freely offered kindness and love that I had to leave behind.” He hiked his pack up on his back. “That is what I was thinking about.”

Varric didn't say anything more but he did clap Dorian on the shoulder giving it a squeeze before the dwarf let his arm fall back to his side.

“You both okay back there?” the Herald called back to them, a playful smirk playing at his features. “You're looking awfully serious.”

“Don't worry about it your Heraldness,” Varric said lightly.

“Now I’m worried,” the only woman in the party said.

The Herald waved his hand. “I trust Varric, Cassandra. If Varric says it was nothing then I believe him.”

Varric grinned. “At least someone in this party trusts me.”

The booming laugh from ‘Bull’ made Dorian jump. “Awe Varric, I trust you as much as I trust Rocky, you're fine.”

“Isn't he the one who blew up-"

“Yup,” ‘Bull’ interrupted proudly.

Dorian listened to them banter good-naturedly with each other with a detached longing. He had never really made any friends in the Circles, always too smart or just too much. He had never regretted not being able to before, he had Felix and Alexius and Rilienius when the man would indulge in hanging out with him. He even had Maevaris who was a delight when it came to discussing fashion and makeup; she was the one who suggested the kohl around his eyes to make him appear a little older. But he didn't have this easy banter, this camaraderie and it suddenly made him feel bereft of something special.

“-Kid? You still with us or did you go to the fade?”

Dorian came back to the present to Varric’s hand waving in his face. He shook his head to clear the fog of his thoughts, he could think later. “Yes, sorry,” he said. “What was it you were asking?”

“I thought it’d do us some good to actually introduce ourselves since we kinda jumped over that portion of our meeting.” the Herald said sheepishly.

Dorian stared for a moment before nodding his head. “That’s true, it would help if I knew all of your names.”

The Herald clapped his hands excitedly, like a child. “Excellent! I’ll go first, the names Aeren. Just call me Aeren, everyone else just calls me the Herald unfortunately.” He pointed his finger at the woman next, his grin never faltering even when the woman was giving him an icy glare.

The woman scoffed before leveling that stare on Dorian. He felt like he was about to be scolded by his mother when that look was directed at him. “Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast,” Cassandra said shortly.

Dorian's eyes widened and he clenched his teeth together to stop his jaw from dropping. “A Seeker? I haven't met a Seeker before, what do you-"

“Don't,” Cassandra interrupted.

Dorian wanted to insist and keep asking questions but held his tongue, instead just giving her a nod.

Varric elbowed him playfully. “You might already know my name, but I'm Varric,” Varric said with a smile which Dorian found himself reciprocating. He liked the dwarf, and could see them becoming friends. “Nice to meet you, kiddo.”

Dorian fought the urge to pout and instead playfully bumped the dwarf's shoulder with his own. “I’m nearly fourteen,” he insisted.

Varric shrugged. “Right now just about everyone out-ages you by ten years.”

Dorian huffed but he let himself sink into the banter.

The Tal-Vashoth cleared his throat, effectively halting Dorian’s lighthearted conversation. “I’m the Iron Bull, leader of Bull’s Chargers,” Iron Bull said evenly,

“‘The Iron Bull?” Dorian asked.

Aeren laughed. “The ‘the’ is important to remember.”

Dorian felt even more confused by that response. Why include the article in his name?

He must have said that aloud or the qunari was very good at reading people because he went on to explain. “The article makes it seem like I’m an object or a tool, not smart enough to do a lot of things. Makes business boom for my company.”

“That's actually very smart,” Dorian commented.

The Iron Bull snorted and shot him a smirk. “Not expecting a Qunari to be smart?”

Dorian shook his head. “The Qunari are matching the best of Tevinter,” Perhaps beating some of the best of Tevinter, “they, and subsequently you, are intelligent. I’m not so stooped in Tevinter’s ideals to think that you are all stupid beasts.” Although Dorian can’t deny he’s still uneasy around the Qunari.

The Iron Bull made a humming noise but didn’t say anything else to him on the subject.

 Battling with the Herald and his party was… an experience. Aeren himself was a force to be reckoned with. He hefted twin axes around with an otherworldly grace, cutting through darkspawn and wild animals alike. Aeren also didn’t seem to care about getting dirty as he did nothing to wipe away the grim and blood that splashed across his body and face. No one should look that good with blood splattering their face and Dorian had a newfound appreciation for the way the Herald’s blood-stained face would quirk up in a grin when he found something amusing.

Damn hormones.

Cassandra was a powerhouse that seemed to withstand every blow that was inflicted on her and then dealt back the same damage. She had no problem standing her ground in the face of any adversary and didn’t hold back her blows. Though she had a tendency to make sure she covered the Herald’s back at every turn. Dorian felt a bit awed by her attacks. So this was just a taste of a Seeker's power.

Varric, for all his jokes and talk of being a simple storyteller, must have the eyes of a hawk based on his accuracy with Bianca. Dorian thought he himself was excellent at accuracy when it came to his spellcasting, but he felt like an absolute novice after he’d seen Varric literally do a flip before firing off two shots consecutively. Varric provided great support on the field that he, and he assumed everyone else, was thoroughly thankful for.

And then there was the Iron Bull.

A force of nature, with raging battle cries and heavy swings of his axe sinking into the flesh of every enemy they came across. Dorian definitely could see what some of his countryman were talking about when mentioning the raw power Qunari possessed. But the Iron Bull also had an almost childlike excitement when it came to battling literally anything. It was almost endearing to see the excited grin and booming laugh the Qunari would let out after a successful battle.

The only problem was that the Qunari seemed to make sure Dorian was put safely out of harm's way. More than once, he’d been picked up by the collar and put safely behind the warrior. Which was all well and good and perhaps he’d be thankful if he actually needed it.

Which he very much didn’t.

It was insulting to be underestimated like he was. As if his title meant nothing, his skills meant nothing. For Maker’s sake, he was nearly an Enchanter, well on his way to officially receiving that title and that meant absolute shit to the Iron Bull. Was he supposed to feel thankful? Being protected like he was a helpless child, a mage still training for their harrowing having to be protected when faced with real combat.

He shouldn’t feel this upset about it. He was providing good support with his shields and healing the party when they needed it, but he still felt upset. Maybe he was just feeling stressed out by the unfamiliar environment. Maybe it was because he was alone and he felt like he needed to prove himself to the Herald and his party and yet he wasn’t being given the chance. No matter how much he told himself that they were doing it for his own good, the frustrated feeling grew larger making his lips purse into a thin line.

When it happened for the fifth time, Dorian had to resist from stamping his foot on the ground. He observed the battle going on in front of him, at everyone fighting against the foes who’d chosen to attack their party. He wasn’t going to let himself be shuffled to the background any longer. Carefully channeling the power through his body, planting his feet firmly on the ground to act as further grounding for the storm magic he felt crackle through his body. The familiar crackle of electricity gathered around him before he slammed his staff against the earth, releasing the chain lightning on the parties’ attackers.

The lightning arced from enemy to enemy and he watched with satisfaction as two enemies faltered and collapsed under the assault of the electricity. He followed it up with a fireball and a roar, channeling his frustrations through his attack.

Fire licked at the outlaw’s clothes, indiscriminately searing flesh and scorching armor. He blocked out as much of the cries of pain as he could, focusing on taking down the next target. Letting himself fall into the rhythm of battle that he’d grown used to since leaving the safety of his home, he kept casting.

He tried to stay out of reach of any of the men attacking their party, but when one got too close Dorian fade stepped away, extricating himself from the location and putting enough distance between them to let a bolt of storm magic strike his opponent.

It didn’t take long to defeat the group, especially with an additional fighter now that Dorian had joined the fight. He felt proud of himself, for entering the fray even with the Iron Bull’s overbearing protective streak attempting to keep him on the sidelines. Perhaps he’d finally acknowledge that he could take care of himself.

“Kid, you finally decided to join us,” the Iron Bull commented as he slung his axe back onto his back. “Was wondering when you were going to.”

Dorian gaped at the Qunari. “What do you mean?” Dorian asked, “You were the one making sure I had no opportunity to join the fight!”

The Iron Bull shrugged, scratching his head and smearing blood on his ear. “Figured you’d join eventually, thought I should cover you in-case you weren’t ready.”

“You saw me fighting all of those demons back at the Chantry in Redcliffe!” Dorian threw his hands up, squinting at the other man. “Did that mean nothing to you?”

“I think what Tiny’s saying is that he didn’t know if you were ready to fight people,” Varric interjected as he checked over Bianca for any damage.

Dorian crossed his arms “Of course I was ready.” He jumped as a sudden hand clapped his shoulder in a reassuring grip.

“In Bull’s defense, he was just looking out for you,” Aeren added warmly. “The big guy is hired as a bodyguard, so technically he’s just doing his job.”

“He’s your bodyguard,” Cassandra muttered with a roll of her eyes.

Varric waved his hand as if to knock that comment aside. “The point is, we didn’t mean to make you feel like we didn’t trust your abilities.”

Aeren nodded. “Yeah we just…”

Dorian raised an eyebrow. “You just didn’t trust my abilities.”

The Iron Bull snorted. “I guess you proved us wrong.” Dorian sniffed and gave him a look which only made the Iron Bull laugh. “I’ll try to tone it down, Dorian.”

“See that you do! I’m perfectly capable of taking on my fair share of enemies.”

Aeren breathed a sigh of relief and holstered his axes. “Thank goodness, maybe I can sit back and watch for a bit.”

Cassandra gave him a piercing look. “That’s not funny.”

The Herald’s head hung. “Worth a shot, I suppose.”

 They crested over the mountain before Haven not three hours later. Dorian's feet ached in his boots and even with the warmer clothes that Felix had given him he felt like his bones were made of ice. He wasn't used to this sort of weather at all, not when the climate in Tevinter was always warm and just the slightest bit humid as you got closer to the coast. But he didn't bring this to anyone's attention, instead keeping his complaints about the weather to himself. 

"Ah, there she is," Aeren said with a sigh of relief. At least Dorian could take comfort in the fact that he wasn't the only one who was tired from their long trek. "Welcome to Haven, Dorian."

If Dorian were being honest, Haven wasn't much. The tiny village if he could call it that had no more than ten houses with the Chantry taking center stage in the back. He could see how bustling it was and for the first time Dorian really thought about the panic and unrest that infected the masses when the Breach had appeared. These people had lost their Divine and the peace talks were in shambles after the destruction of the Conclave. They'd banded together to try and stop what was going on and others had joined to help. He didn't know if there had been any instances where Tevinter had done the same. 

"We should be there soon," Varric said, carefully making his way down the steep slope. "Watch your step, it's easy to lose your footing with all this snow blocking our view."

Dorian nodded absentmindedly, switching his gaze from looking at the ground and what was in front of him.

Cassandra cleared her throat and Dorian turned his head to look at her. "Just so you are aware, a scout has already made the other advisors aware of our additional company," she informed, shifting the shield on her back to a more comfortable position. "I'm sure they'll want a full report from the Herald."

Aeren groaned loudly beside the Iron Bull. "I suppose they'll want to talk about the situation in Redcliffe."

Cassandra nodded her head. "To discover that the rebel mages have sided with Tevinter, especially after Grand Enchanter Fiona came to us to ask for our aid… well let's just say Commander Cullen and Leliana are most likely chomping at the bit to find out the details."

"Very well, I'll meet with them right away," Aeren said.

"I should be there as well," Dorian spoke up. "I know the details of what's going on."

"Which you told us," Aeren said turning his full attention to Dorian. "Unless you and Felix left something out when you were explaining the situation."

Dorian resisted the urge to flinch under Aeren's sudden hawk-like gaze. "N-no I did but I can clarify any confusion that might occur after your advisors hear about the situation."

"Somehow I doubt that will go over well with them," the Iron Bull commented. 

"I know that for a fact," Cassandra said. "It would be best if after the meeting, if any of them had further questions, they could ask you, Dorian."

Dorian wanted to argue with Cassandra but held his tongue. He was still an outsider; for all they knew, he could still be gathering information- have an alternative motive that would cause disruption within the council. Dorian finally nodded his head and started thinking of ways to listen in on the meeting. It'd be highly suspicious behavior, however, he'd be able to hear what the Herald's advisors really thought about the situation in Redcliffe.

"Don't think too hard about it, kid," Varric reassured, clapping him on his back. "I can show you around, introduce you to the rest of the gang."

Dorian made a noise of affirmation and started planning how he was going to now sneak away from Varric of all people. "Perhaps it'd be best if I ate something first?" Dorian asked.

"I could go for a drink myself," Bull said. "Gotta get a report from my crew but then I could meet you at the tavern."

Dorian shifted awkwardly at the mention of the Iron Bull's crew. There were more Qunari here in Haven? "Your crew?"

Bull laughed. "The Iron Bull's Chargers. Bunch of assholes, but they're my assholes."

For some reason hearing Bull sound so jovial about his crew made Dorian feel more comfortable. But it didn't deter from the fact that Dorian now realized he had a small window of opportunity to get away from Varric and to the Herald's meeting with his advisors because once the Iron Bull joined them Dorian knew he wouldn't be getting away so easily. 

Aeren clapped his hands. "So Cassandra and I'll be off to the Chantry for that simply delightful meeting that I'm so excited about attending, Bull is going to his Chargers and Varric and Dorian get to eat," his lip quivered as he turned towards Cassandra once more, "are you sure I can't at least get something to eat before this thing?"

Cassandra scoffed and Dorian wondered if it was Cassandra's default expression. "You should still have that goat jerky you purchased before we left the Hinterlands," she said.

"But Cassandra," Aeren drew out the vowels of her name in a whine, "that's emergency food in case we can't get some."

She gave him a blank look as they reached the end of the slope. "Seems you've found your emergency."

Dorian split his attention between listening to Varric point out different locations in Haven and taking in all the stares he was receiving from the village folk. He didn't look terribly different from them at first glance but Dorian could quickly see the differences. His clothes were a higher quality; having unnecessary decorative belts and bits of leather and fur while definitely Dorian's style, wasn't abundant in the people of Haven. It could also be the staff strapped against his back. Mages were still being oppressed and were always watched warily as if they were going to turn into demons at a moments notice.

Or they could tell he was from Tevinter, it could always be that. His safest bet was to stay close to Varric until he found an opportunity to leave and try and listen in on that meeting.

"-And that's the merchant here in Haven, he's an ass and jack's up his prices but he does have some good quality stuff if you can afford it. But if you ask me," Varric laughed and pointed back outside the gates, "just buy some schematics from Seggrit and take them to Harritt and have him make them. Takes a while to collect some materials but the Herald stops for elfroot every five minutes so you'll have plenty of time to get stuff." 

Dorian's ears grew hot and he turned to look away from the dwarf. "I did notice Aeren's… affinity to collecting elfroot but I thought it might have been an elf thing."

"Are you kidding me? Every time he stops I can hear Sera's complaining and Solas looks physically pained."

"Well that's different."

"Different strokes for different folks. Guess plants don't get 'em going." Dorian snorted and shook his head. Talking to Varric was easy. "Now, you want to actually eat something?"

"Oh um- sure?" He needed to sneak away, but this was his chance. "But I have to… relieve myself first."

Varric snorted and shook his head. "Say no more, pretty sure there's a chamber pot in the tavern somewhere in the back. Or you could pick a tree."

Dorian forced his grin to look relaxed. "A tree sounds a bit better to me."

"Well I'll be in the tavern getting some grub, come join me when you're done." Varric patted him on the back and started walking away. "Gotta introduce you to Sera, she spends all her time there."

Dorian wasted no time before he was headed for the Chantry. He tried to look as calm and confident as he could manage, refusing to make eye contact with any of the people who might've been looking at him. He saw a livid looking Grand Chancellor speaking heatedly to a harried group of soldiers who looked like they wanted to be anywhere else.

"-it's bad enough that this Inquisition is allowing for the Divine's killer to walk around freely without even a slap on the wrist but to have the audacity to-" 

Dorian blocked out the rest of the man's speech as he reached the large double doors. He felt oddly proud of himself, that he managed to get this far without any issues. Perhaps he had gotten lucky.

Shimmying in through the small space he created he made his way inside. It was dark and smelt heavily of musty paper, wax, and potpourri; exactly how the Chantry in Redcliffe had smelled. He hoped Felix was doing alright. He could almost see the teasing grin on his brother's face when they’d get up to mischief and his fake reprimands to appease Alexius while he gave Dorian a thumbs up once Alexius looked away. He missed Felix so much.

He confidently walked to the doors on the far wall. He knew that confidence fooled plenty of people that you knew exactly what you were doing and that you were supposed to do it. He did notice a woman dressed extravagantly in the finest fashion from Val Royeaux giving him detached curious looks but she didn't make any moves toward him so he counted it as a win.

Once he was at the door he absentmindedly leaned his head against the door, pressing his ear against the surface to try and hear what was going on. It was obvious he was listening in on the meeting but he hadn't thought of what he was going to do once he had gotten this far. And no one had stopped him yet. Perhaps his age for once might be an advantage rather than a hindrance and people would brush it off as a curious child. 

Then again, he hadn’t recalled seeing anyone remotely his age since he’d entered Haven. He shoved his worries aside and pressed his ear harder against the door. 

“-Either we find another way in, or give up this nonsense and go get the Templars,” A man argued. Dorian grimaced, he wasn’t liking how this was sounding.

“Redcliffe is in the hands of a Magister. This cannot be allowed to stand,” Cassandra said firmly.

“The letter from Alexius asked for the Herald of Andraste by name. It’s an obvious trap,” Another woman interjected, her voice heavily accented.

“I was actually wondering about that, why does he know my name?” Aeren asked. “Didn’t even think Magisters bothered to learn elves’s names.”

“Perhaps not in most cases, but you aren’t most elves,” The heavily accented woman said. 

Aeren didn’t give a verbal response to that statement, instead letting out a sigh to show his displeasure. “Whatever, what’s important is coming to an agreement on this. We’re just wasting time fighting among ourselves.”

“A Tevinter controls Redcliffe, invites us to the castle to talk, and some of us want to do nothing.” This woman’s voice was accented as well, but this one he could place geographically. Those from Val Royeaux had a very distinct accent.

“Not this again,” the other woman muttered.

“It’s like I’m dealing with children,” Aeren mumbled. He must have been standing closest to the door because Dorian doubted he would have heard the elf otherwise.

“Redcliffe castle is one of the most defensible fortresses in Ferelden. It has repelled thousands of assaults,” the man stated simply before lowering his voice. “If you go in there, you’ll die. And we’ll lose the only means we have of closing these rifts. I won’t allow it.”

Dorian could understand the man’s hesitation especially with the fate of the rest of humanity relying on the Herald’s mark to close the rifts. That didn’t mean he agreed with the man though, especially with how quick the man was willing to cast the mages aside in favor of the Templars. 

“And if we don’t even try to meet Alexius, we lose the mages and leave a hostile foreign power on our doorstep!” The Val Royeaux woman insisted. At least someone understood what was at stake if they ignored Alexius and cast aside the mages. 

“Even if we could assault the keep, it would be for naught,” the accented woman spoke up again, “An ‘Orlesian’ Inquisition’s army marching into Ferelden would provoke a war. Our hands are tied.”

Cassandra didn’t seem to agree. “The Magister-”

“Has outplayed us,” the man said sternly.

Aeren seemed to be at his wits end with the discussion as he spoke up. “The Magister’s son, Felix, told me Alexius is in a cult that’s obsessed with me.” The Herald’s amusement was clear in his voice. “I doubt they’ll graciously receive our apologies and go about their business. Typically not how cults are usually run.” Dorian doubted Aeren knew much about what cults were really like, but his comment did seem to lessen the tension that was going on in the room the group was in.

“They’ll remain a threat, and a powerful one, unless we act,” the Val Royeaux woman plainly said. 

Dorian was nodding his head at what he was hearing. Finally the meeting seemed to be on the right path to coming to a decision in the mages’s favor. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if the Inquisition decided that they would side with the Templars over the mages. Try to take Alexius down himself he supposed, try to wriggle himself back into Alexius’s favor to get the man’s defenses down so that he and Felix could take care of him. 

He was stopped from his eavesdropping when a shadow loomed over him. For a moment his heart stopped and he wondered if it was the Iron Bull that’d found him somehow, but the shadow was much too slim to be the Qunari. He tilted his head up and met the gaze of the fashionable woman he’d seen near the front of the Chantry when he’d entered the building. She didn’t seem too interested in what he was doing, but Dorian didn’t believe that disinterest for a minute. He’d worn similar facial expressions at numerous parties he hadn’t wanted to go to until he’d discovered that he could slip away with Felix or Maevaris if he pretended he didn’t want to be there. 

“And what are you doing all the way back here, child?” the woman asked.

Dorian looked at her imploringly and tried to put on his most innocent face. “I was just… curious. About the Herald. He uh… Varric mentioned that he and his advisors were having an important meeting and well I um… wanted to hear it from the source?” He was a fool and wished he’d learned how to be a honey tongued snake like his peers had been. 

She seemed to ignore his verbal stumble and gave him a small smile, like one gave a particularly amusing animal. “In other words, you’re the company the Herald brought back with him after his trip to Redcliffe.”

“H-how-?”

“Oh dear, people often forget the walls have ears and that fashion is an instant identifier.”

Oh she was good. She played the game with the grace of one who was well versed in all the ins-and-outs of the rules. “There was no point lying to her at this point. “I know exactly what is going on in Redcliffe and how crucial it is that the Herald side with the mages.”

She nodded. “The mages have their leashes too loose in Redcliffe. They feel too invincible. To allow that to continue and further excommunicating them to this freedom would be detrimental to getting things back into order.”

Dorian stared at the woman. “A-are you implying that the Inquisition should side with the mages to reinstate the Circles?”

“Hm, at least some sort of control needs to be put into action, but I doubt the mages will stand to go completely back to the Circles.”

With good reason, Dorian thought but didn’t voice. “Not that this isn’t a riveting talk, but I was busy listening in on the meeting.”

“Which you aren’t supposed to be doing.”

“Be that as it may, I would appreciate being able to continue listening if it’s all the same to you…”

“Madame De Fer, Enchanter to the Imperial Court of Orlais.”

Dorian stood a bit straighter and nodded at her respectfully. “Dorian of House Pavus.”

She raised an eyebrow at his name. “You are a far way from home, Dorian.”

“I’m here to do what needs to be done.”

She sent him that amused smile again. “See that you do.” And with that she walked away as if their conversation had never happened. He didn’t waste anymore time and instead tuned back into the meeting behind the door. 

“-their focused on Lavellan, we break the magister’s defenses. It could work, but it’s a huge risk,” the man said. He sounded much calmer than he did previously.

“I can definitely do distractions,” Aeren cheered. 

“It’s a huge risk,” the man emphasized.

“Come now Commander, ye have little faith in my ability to get on people’s nerves.”

“Trust me we’re plenty aware of this ability of yours,” Cassandra said blandly. Dorian had to bite his lip to stop himself from barking out a laugh. Cassandra didn’t hold back her opinions at all.

He was waiting to hear more when he felt a hand against his shoulder. Dorian tensed and turned to look at the soldier who looked at him with confusion. “You’re not supposed to do that,” he said. “This is a meeting between the Herald and his advisors, he’ll give his orders once everything’s been sorted out.”

Dorian shook his head. “I have information about the magister in Redcliffe and his methods.” He prayed that this was one of Leliana’s scouts who knew about the situation in Redcliffe. The soldier blinked at him and looked between Dorian and the door like it held a complicated problem that he was trying to solve. “I just want to be able to offer my aid to them.”

The soldier warred with himself for only a moment more before he pushed open the door to the meeting room. The room instantly quieted and Dorian forced himself to not shrink away from suddenly being the subject of everyone’s attention. He could feel Cassandra’s glare and the exasperated look being sent his way by Aeren. 

The soldier cleared his throat and gestured to Dorian. “He says he has information about the magister and his methods, Commander.”

The Commander didn’t seem to know how to take him his face going from a stern gaze to outright confusion. But he gestured to Dorian to speak.

“Your spies will never get past Alexius’s magic without my help,” Dorian said. It was true, Alexius had always been good at wards and he doubted any old mage would know how to create a hole in them without disrupting the whole spell or attracting Alexius attention. “So if you’re going after him, I’m coming along.”

“This mission could mean life or death for the entire Inquisition, and you’re a child,” the Commander said, not unkindly. 

“I’m fully capable of holding my own.” He wasn’t going to budge on this. He was coming along whether they wanted him to or not. “I’m coming along.”

The Commander seemed to want to argue further with him, but he turned his attention to Aeren who was pinching the bridge of his nose. “The plan puts you in the most danger. We can’t, in good conscience, order you to do this.” The Commander paused before continuing on, his focus completely on the Herald. “We can still go after the Templars if you’d rather not play the bait. It’s up to you.”

Dorian opened his mouth to argue, but was silenced by an elbow hitting his shoulder. He turned to see Aeren giving a manic grin to the room. “And pass up the opportunity to be asked to be annoying? I think not.”

The rest of the group nodded and started to sort out the finer details. Dorian quietly took steps to the door only to be stopped by a hand grasping his shoulder. He was getting tired of being stopped like that. 

“If this meeting is adjourned, I think Dorian and I will grab something to eat, won’t we Dorian,” Aeren said. It wasn’t a question but rather a fact that Dorian wasn’t going to get away from. The Herald walked with him out of the room, his hand never leaving his shoulder. 

Dorian squirmed under Aeren’s hold. “A-aeren I-”

“I understand why you did it, but you really could’ve gotten in trouble.” The Herald sounded tired. “I really was going to let you know what the verdict was when the meeting concluded.”

“I couldn’t guarantee that you’d choose the mages.”

“You couldn’t do that eavesdropping either.”

Dorian shrugged. “I figured if it was going badly and sounded like you were picking the Templars I could burst in and try to convince them otherwise.”

Aeren laughed. “You think causing a scene would change their choice?”

“Felix always said that I had a nact for dramatics, I felt it wouldn’t hurt my chances.”

Aeren looked considering. “Huh, I guess that might have worked a little. But you’re still in trouble.” Dorian sputtered but Aeren plowed on. “For what you just pulled, I’ll be taking you to the Tavern with me, have Varric and Bull scold you some while I eat. Then I’ll introduce you to the others.”

Dorian supposed he could live with that.  

[shardclan]

The lonesome monolith of Horizon's Landing loomed so far out on the western edges of the crystalspines that on a clear night one could convince themselves they saw the Beacon winking from across the bleak expanse of the Greater Ocean. It was also close enough to the border with the Southern Icefield that even the unimpressive heights of its peak were capped in thick snow. The Pact Site was a mere skip northwest across a floe-clogged strait to a neighboring crystalpine ridge. Despite the absence of the Seat and the inert Circle, massive celestine pillars reached into the sky like glittering finger bones.

With the coming rising of the shadow and ice elements, glaciers were high and local sea levels were low. Jutting remains of maren architecture had breached the water's surface. So had dozens of shoal complexes covered in salt and seaweed and tide-smoothed pebbles of glowing crystal that were as lovely as the lure of any anglerfish.

Luckily, there were no fools or fledglings to lure that far from the mainland.

Lavi stared at the rough hewn dens bored into the mountain. Even though House Betelgeuse was made from the same material, Horizon's Landing had none of the warmth. The House was a place where families lived and thrived. The Landing was a refuge where the dens were filled with strangers who knew nothing and cared nothing for Aphaster or its histories or ideals. They were hunters and assassins drawn in by either money or interest in the unusual prey the astrals would promise. Once that prey was gone, they would move on. As a result, the Landing didn't feel like any place that Lavi knew. It reminded him of his elders instead--Hart in his cloak and pelts, Safiri in her thick furs, Lutia in her leather bindings. Wild ones with fangs that they never forgot no matter how peaceful or civilized things got.

Astrit was more familiar with rogues and mercenaries and the subtle but constant threat of violence that followed them around. He had settled into the mountain's base without a care. Along with him, a few other choice representatives of Bramble Step brought drink and music and their maybe-fatal kind of fun. Though they were far from a homey presence, their unabashed bawdiness and insistence on a certain kind of atmosphere kept the sharp and dangerous auras of the inhabitants from blanketing the island with hostile silence.

"You're frowning, Lavi." Warmth that had already become too familiar pressed against his forearm. "Something bothering you?"

"I was thinking it was probably best that Rebis saw us off at the portal."

"Oh." He tip-toed away from Lavi's side just as quietly as he had come. "I suppose this place hasn't been kind for her."

"Nor for me," Lavi sighed. "But I meant more that I'm glad we didn't waste a good wine on the side of this mountain. There's nothing worth celebrating here. It's an outpost. A queen shouldn't be in such a place."

"I think I see a whale! Come look!"

Invigilavi's fins twisted. He turned from the mountain to find his companion out on the shoal, bent over at the water's edge. "You're not listening to me at all."

"I'm always listening to you," Ashlesha insisted with a pout. "But you said it yourself: the queen didn't come here and no wine was wasted on celebrating this rock. What is there to dwell on?"

"I suppose I'm... I just--" Lavi clenched his jaw as heat rushed from his chin to his horns. Making him feel like he was overthinking everything was Ashlesha's most infuriating talent. And the one Lavi could least reproach him for.

"I'm trying to cope with the fact that I have to live here," he admitted tightly.

Ashlesha lowered his eyes, and pulled his robe close around him. "You have me..."

"It's not about you," Lavi snapped. "Just because you're so attached to me doesn't mean I know you or that you bring me any comfort."

"I know."

The unexpected solemness of Ashlesha's voice caught Lavi off guard. He had been struggling to find a rhythm or some kind of predictability with Ashlesha since the day they met, but he had gotten too involved far too quickly and had such incomprehensible changes of mood that Lavi couldn't help feeling physically dizzy, like he was tumbling in the dark every time Ashlesha's careless personality gave way and he was suddenly faced with depths he didn't know how to process.

Cool hands touched his chest. The shock grounded him there on the shore and stopped his head spinning.

Ashlesha was on the very tips of his toes and was still too small to meet Lavi's half-shift face-to-face, but he seemed content enough to look up into his eyes. "I haven't known you long enough to be anyone to you, Lavi. I have no delusions otherwise. But so long as I am with you, you don't need to fear anything. Not astrals, or emperors, or the Shade. Not even the gods."

The spines along Lavi's neck stood. Gingerly, he pressed his palms against Ashlesha's shoulders until there was a much more reasonable distance between them. "I wish you wouldn't say things like that."

"I mean it."

"It wouldn't be so terrifying if you didn't."

"Well it's not like I can replace your family," he mumbled. He wandered distractedly back to the shoal, and slouched down onto his heels at the water's edge. "I could make this place worthy of you easy...but a king's mansion isn't worth anything when all you want is the house you grew up in."

A wash of deja vu passed gently over Inviglavi. He hadn't been able to appreciate just how Ashlesha looked sitting by himself in the moonlight when he first laid eyes on him.  A lot had been on his mind at the time--and a lot more since. But if everything was true in spite of Faded's warning and Ashlesha was human, he was hundreds of thousands of years estranged from everything he had ever known.

"That's... surprisingly reasonable of you to say."

"Don't be mean, I'm trying."

"I was praising you," Lavi pointed out gently.

"Really...?" Ashlesha quickly turned his attention back to the sea, but failed to hide his grin or contain his telltale hair-fidgeting. "O-oh! Uhm! The whale is still down there I think! You're missing it!"

"I'll pass. Even you being out there is making me nervous. Come on, let's go back inland."

Ashlesha giggled and made a show of fluttering his lashes. "Are you worried about me, Lavi~?"

"Ashlesha, you know how the water is in the Isles. Especially this close to the Icefield."

"Hey... I told you, you don't have to fear anything." The unfamiliar light that shone from deep inside Ashlesha's otherwise green eyes brightened, and he held out his hand. "Come here. See the places even your Archmage doesn't dare to look."

Lavi glanced at the water, and felt his heart drum out a warning.

He wasn't a mage of any import. His magic capacity was above average but not particularly impressive, and his physical ability to fight was negligible at best. Insight was his primary talent. His limits, his weaknesses, what was and wasn't within his power to do--his overactive drive for self-preservation had always kept those things at the forefront of his mind. But now there was Ashlesha courting his curiosity off its leash. All while smiling in that careless, endlessly confident way that left the impression that anything Sornieth could throw at him would prove as inconsequential as a speck of dust in the Windsinger's path.

Several halting steps later, Ashlesha's hand slid into Lavi's palm; tiny as a drop of water pooling in a leaf. With a wave, the crystals deep under the water came to life, filling the night-dark sea with light. A dozen schools of fish flickered and darted in confusion, and a paralyzing mass of shadow that refused to yield its true form to the light shifted sluggishly.

Strange tendrils moved around it, wriggling against the translucent crystal trapping it in place like worms seeking a path to the surface. They beat, disjointedly at first, and then with increasing unison, at their prison, until the force of the hundreds of tendrils bashing at the unyielding ice shook the should beneath their feet.

"That's not a whale," Lavi rasped over his suddenly dry tongue. He stepped back from the water as pebbles tumbled into the sea, lest he slip and follow them. "Let it go back to sleep."

"It was never asleep. Should it have been?" He saw the desperate, longing look Lavi was shooting at the shore, and squeezed Lavi's palm, comforting the rapid pulse they both felt there. "Does it frighten you?"

"I certainly would have slept better without knowing it was down there."

Lavi felt Ashlesha’s hand slip from his, and no sooner had he begun to trot back to shore than something made him stumble. His ears rang, and he squinted against an awful residual sensation he couldn't name. It was simultaneously a faint taste of rotten food in his mouth and the last uncomfortable needles of limbs that had fallen asleep.

At Lavi's feet, strange blood was washing up onto the shoal, viscous and shiny as tar.

Ashlesha was casually brushing down his robes, as white and untainted as pure moonlight atop the blackening waters. When he caught Lavi's expression, he raised his chin proudly and beamed.

"Now it’s no harm to anyone, and you can rest easy."

In Feldspar, Phantasos had Ozymandias, but Phantasos was also a barely fathomable entity with a deep well of power. In Aphaster, Queen Rebis was rapidly developing as a magic user who would inevitably attain the mantle Archmage. There were witches, warriors, godstouched; even a shaman in tune with the all-joining magics of the Pillar. 

Yet Ashlesha chose him. And Lavi had never felt so under-qualified.