#Lord Oriana (middle)

[littlebittyhollowbugs]

Mantis lords 💙💚💙

[cressidagrey]

I breathe flames each time I talk - Chapter 6

Summary:

The story of how Oriana Fireborn Belmont finally meets her mate's family.

Also the story of how Rhysand, The High Lord of the Night Court, finally recognises that by the cauldron, there is no fury like a female scorned.

Azriel would just like everybody to get along.

Warnings:

Rhys Bashing

Notes:

I put a lot of world building into this. If you don't recognise it from canon, I probably invented. Or I forgot that canon existed.

(thanks to @firefly-graphics for the super pretty dividers!)

It’s the High Lord. 

Azriel felt the wards shudder and then snap closed, his mouth ceasing to make sounds in the middle of his conversation with Cassian. 

“Oh no,” he breathed when he felt the ice-cold fury pour over their mating bond.

That was all he needed before he forced himself to get out of bed and snap at the shadows that tried to hold him down. For once they listened to him, probably because they knew that he was too fucking furious to be held down. 

“You are supposed to stay in bed!” Cassian protested. Azriel ignored that as he hobbled to the door. 

“My mate is going head to head with the fucking High Lord of the Night Court, I am not staying in the fucking bed!” He snapped. There was to hope that they wouldn’t outright kill each other but somehow he didn’t think that Oriana, in all her righteous fury, would be in a very forgiving mood. 

Cassian finally acquiesced, fitting himself under a shoulder and dragging him outside onto the porch where Nesta stood, staring at the spectacle before them. 

Rhys was trussed up like a turkey, suspended midair, merrily swinging in the wind, wings unable to move much in the golden bubble Oriana had him in. 

And Oriana…Oriana stood in front of him, hands on her hips and glaring at Rhys. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Rhysand! I told you to stay away,” Cassian snapped. “How? Is that your magic?” He asked Oriana, who just shrugged.

“It’s an enchantment. I reworked my warding net. That you broke,” she answered, her voice even. 

“When the fuck did you even do this?” Azriel demanded. 

“Last night when you were sleeping, Sweetling. I was bored,” Oriana answered. “And you are supposed to be in bed. I got this well in hand.” Of course. Sometimes she slid out of the bed in the middle of the night because she had an idea for something and needed to write it down before she could forget it. These days she kept a notebookonn on her bedside table, though the sound of a pen scratching over parchment had oftentimes woken him up, only to reach out and pull her against his chest. “It’s like a mouse trap. Just for High Lords. Who stick their nose into things that are absolutely none of their business,” she said brightly. 

Oh for cauldron’s sake. 

“I realise that I may have misstepped,” Rhys dared to say, still dangling head down in the air.

Oriana’s head snapped towards him. Azriel held back a grimace while Nesta started to outright grin. 

“ Misstepped ?” Oriana repeated voice light. The magical bindings jerked Rhys up. “Is that what we call that now?” 

In his defence, Rhys didn’t even tried to get out of it of his magical prison. He probably realised that trying anyway wouldn’t be a good idea. Who knew what else Oriana had worked into her enchantment when she had been working in it?

“I am surprised you haven’t set me on fire yet,” Rhys said drily. “Like last time.” Last time?”

“Oh, all in good time,” Oriana said brightly. “I enjoy your fear too much to cut this short.” 

Azriel probably… definitely shouldn’t find this attractive. But he did.

He really, really did. It was the pure magical power that poured from her, the intelligence that it must have taken to make a ward like that, her mind at work, protecting herself, protecting him. 

“There won’t be a repeat of last time, if you worry about that…” last time? What did she mean by last time? 

And then his attention was pulled towards Feyre twholanded a few feet before the golden dome that surrounded the Lakehouse and jogged the rest of the way, until she came to a stop in front of the ward.

“If you wouldn’t maim him for life, you would do me a favour!” Feyre called out. 

Oriana inclined her head. “High Lady.” There actually was respect in her voice that hadn’t been there before for Rhys. 

“Oh, just Feyre is fine!” Feyre assured her. “It’s so nice to meet you!”

“Oriana. But I think you already know that,” Oriana said. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

“She’s very pretty. I can see why you wanted to marry her sister,” Feyre told Rhys drily. Cassian next to him choked on nothing.

“You wanted to marry her sister ?” Cassian asked, sounding incredulously. “What exactly did you do to his favourite jacket, Oriana?” he asked her, a grin stretching over his features. 

“I put it on fire,” Oriana answered easily. “And then I started with the rest of him. He had it coming though. He tried to flirt with Enya and when she turned him down, he tried it with me, but I was already engaged.”

Oh. Well. 

“You were engaged?” Cassian asked, surprised. 

Oriana shrugged. “Yes. I got engaged to get Enya out of marrying and being miserable for the rest of her life, an  then this one shows up and wants a bride. Which would already be bad enough but to decide that if one wouldn’t suffice, the next was an option? Yeah, I made my displeasure known. My sister is much happier in the infirmary than she ever would be as anybody’s wife,” she ranted. A fireball appeared with a dainty little flick of her wrist, flying across their yard near the bubble that still held Rhys. He was eyeing it with no small amount of trepidation. 

Azriel had no clue what to think about all of this. 

“Don’t worry, your jacket is safe from my wrath,” Oriana quipped. 

“Could you maybe not kill him?  I kinda want my son to know his father,” Feyre asked with a grimace 

“Thanks, Feyre darling,” Rhys said drily. She just shrugged 

“Sorry, you had this coming, Rhys,” Feyre said, crossing her arms. 

“Don’t worry, he won’t die,” Oriana promised. “I have only killed one person in my life and that wasn’t even on purpose.”

“Who did she kill?” Cassian asked him in a hiss. 

“Her husband,” Azriel said with a shrug. At Cassian’s stare, he added,  “He had it coming. It was self-defense.” 

Quite frankly, Wynstan had it coming. It could have been much worse. Oriana’s magic had onlyburneds him to death. For what he had done to her and taken from her, that kind of death could probably still be considered to be merciful as far as Azriel was concerned. 

“You can walk through the ward. It’s intent-basedd,” Oriana told Feyre at that moment. Feyre watched it carefully for a moment but then stepped through the ward that did nothing but glow brighter in response for a moment. 

“So what exactly was Rhysands intent if he triggered it?” Cassian asked the question that Azriel was also having.  

“No small amount of self-loathing, I imagine,” Oriana said drily just as Feyre reached them, pulling Azriel into a hug. 

“You look better than I thought you would,” she told him, a smile on her face. “She won’t burn him, will she?” she muttered under her breath and Azriel just shrugged. His guess was as good as any. 

“ We are going to talk about consequences,” Oriana said at that moment, flicking her wrist a second time, another fireball joining the first, hovering in the air. A third time. It spoke of so much control over her magic that Azriel was slightly awed. “And about what exactly constitutes appropriate behaviour towards my mate.“

The last thing he had expected was the words that left  Rhys’ mouth next: “I am sorry.“

Azriel’s eyes widened. This wasn’t…This was the last thing he had expected. Especially because Rhys sounded like he really was sorry. 

“I wasn’t aware that you even knew that word existed. For what are you sorry?“ Oriana prodded sharply, arms still crossed, clearly not willing to let a single thing go. 

Azriel couldn’t remember ever having anybody in his life who came down this harshly on anybody who did anything to disrespect thim. Even Rhys and Cassian thought that he could deal with it himself. Oriana…Oriana was seemingly glowing with righteous fury, thinly concealed magic sparking at his fingertips. 

“I was…out of line,” Rhys struggled to bring out the words. 

“Were you?” she questioned lightly. Her tone of voice was in a very sharp contrast to seemingly everything else she was doing. From Rhys dangling in the middle of their garden to the fireballs that surrounded him glowingly. 

“I was,” Rhys agreed. “I thought that…I tried to do what was best for the Night Court,” Rhys said quietly.  

“Correction. You tried to do what you thought was best for the Night Court,” Oriana cut him off. “Without even talking to anybody else or asking for advice.  But then you aren’particularlyar smart, so maybe I shouldn’t have expected any differently.”

Ouch. 

“Excuse me,“ Rhys complained, but she ignored that. Nesta bit back a laugh, while Feyre watched that whole thing with ill-concealed fascination. Cassian had crossed his arms, while Azriel himself was leaning harshly against the porch railing, as he watched his mate rail against Rhys. 

Oriana wasn’t even close to done, was she? 

He could feel it pour all over their bond, her fury, her anger, burning brightly as she concentrated it on who she clearly felt deserved all of it. 

Azriel wondered how she had put all the pieces together, but then maybe he shouldn’t. She knew him better than anybody else. And she was smarter than anybody he knew. She had probably overheard his conversation with Cassian and that had felt in all the blanks that she had been missing. 

“You know, I kept a list,” Oriana said suddenly. “A list of political decisions you made that I thought were unwise. But quite frankly, it didn’t really matter to me. If Velaris turned out to be unsustainable, I was just going to go back into the mountain,“ she told him. “But some decisions you made were about Azriel. And these…they pertain to me. They matter to me.”

“If I didn’t do what I did you would have probably never even met him,” Rhys pointed out, his voice hoarsely. The fireballs burned brighter in response, flames appearing at Oriana’s fingertips as she uncrossed her arms and held her hands to her side, clearly used to not burn the clothing she was wearing.  

“Is that supposed to make me be on your side?” she hissed.  “You think that makes it any better?  I love Azriel! I would rather not have him feel any pain at all than even spend a moment in my presence!” He flinched at her words because he had very different thoughts about that. He would rather walk through fire and burn alive than be even a moment without Oriana. 

“When I met him, he was a fucking shell of a being! He expected me to turn him away at every corner, to tell him to leave me alone! You hurt him. So much so that for close to two years, he lived in a house without any furniture! Where he slept on the floor. And I quote *I grew up in a cell, at least this has windows!* ” He couldn’t help but flinch at her words. 

“Oh Az…” Cassian whispered and he held tighter to the railing. Oriana wasn’t finished though. 

“You hurt him! With your words, and with your actions! I could argue against why you did what you did. I could pull apart your reasoning like plucking feathers from a chicken! But that doesn’t matter because you actually believed that you did the right thing!” 

It was so quiet after her outburst, that the only thing that could be heard was Oriana’s harsh breathing. 

“I…I just wanted to protect him,” Rhys finally whispered, his eyes closed, anguish clear on his face. 

“Who, Lucien?” Oriana snapped. 

“Azriel,” Rhys disagreed. “My brother.” His eyes opened and violet eyes searched out Azriel’s even over the distance between them. 

“I am sorry,” Rhyapologiseded. “I am so sorry.  I thought that it was infatuation. I didn’t think that you really loved her. I…I wanted to protect you. I know how strong the mating bond can be. I know that. And I…I thought that the chances that she was going to choose him were slim. Not because of you. But because of that bond. I wanted to protect you and I wanted to protect this Court. I thought I was doing the right thing.”

The words stood between them, quiet but heartfelt. 

And maybe if Rhys had actually told him that…if he actually told him that he was worried about him that he loved him but that Elain was mated and that even when she made any appearance that she wasn’t interested in Lucien, that could change when she actually settled into being a High Fae and didn’t just grief after the humanity that she had lost…

He could have understood that. He could have been reasoned with that. 

“Why didn’t you tell him that?” Oriana questioned quietly. “You could have just told him that.”

“I could have. But I didn’t. And that wasn’t even the worst thing I said,” Rhys admitted. “I said something even worse than that. I said to go to the pleasure hall if he wanted sex.”

Azriel flinched at the words that had haunted him. 

Reasonably he could understand how Rhys must have meant it. But they felt like something truly different to him, meant something very different to him. 

“I am sorry for that,” Rhys said quietly. “I…thought that you didn’t love her. But it wasn’t on me to make that determination. And I shouldn’t have ever even thought about telling you that.” He swallowed. “I am sorry, Azriel. You are my brother. And I am so sorry for how treated yoItt’s will haunt me for the rest of my life.”

He knew that Rhys meant every word and he was really not looking forward to hashing this out for much longer. 

“You’re gonna let him down?” he asked Oriana, who turned towards him. He pushed forgiveness at contentedness and he saw the moment she softened. 

“Do you want me to?” she asked and he just nodded. She turned to Rhys. 

“Have you learned your lesson?” She asked him pointedly.

“Don’t cross you,” he answered. Fire burst out of her hands at that. 

“Wrong answer,” she hissed at him. 

“Don’t stick my nose into things that are none of my business?” he tried again. 

“Closer.” 

“Don’t treat my brother like that again.” 

“You ever even think about doing anything like that to Azriel again, this is going to look like children’s play. Do you understand?” She asked, every word burning with intensity. Rhys swallowed. Azriel watched with some amusement that he actually was scared if the look in violet eyes was anything to go by. 

“Crystal.”

“Good.”

“We should keep her. The psychological warfare would be unparalleled,” Cassian whispered to him. Azriel just snorted. 

It took nothing more than another flick of her wrist, and the fireballs rushed into the ward, the golden bubble that kept Rhys let him go and he unceremoniously plummeted to the ground until his wings could wildly flap and save him from landing face first into the mud. 

He finally let go of the porch railing, managing to hobble down the two steps down onto the wide expanse of grass. Rhys crossed the distance to him and yanked him into a tight hug. 

Something inside him eased at that, as his hands fisted into his brother’s jacket, his face pressing against his shoulder. 

“I am sorry.”

“Don’t do it again.”

“Never.”

“You are two idiots, but I love you,” Cassian said drily, suddenly next to him and Azriel snorted as Cassian pounced on both of them in a hug. “Are you finally gonna come to family dinners again now?”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

They were his brothers. 

Even when she had never seen all three together before that moment, she could easily see that. 

She pushed any remaining anger she felt away because quite frankly, her own anger didn’t really matter. Azriel was the one who had deserved an apology. Azriel was the one who needed to hear that from his brother.

She crossed the yard and, back to the porch, finding Nesta and Feyre both watching the three of them just like she had done. 

“I think you could have at least put him on fire a little bit ,” Nesta told her drily and Oriana snorted in amusement, while Feyre rolled her eyes. 

“Ah, you know…there is always a next time,” Oriana said, shaking her hands, sending the last few sparks of fire flying into the evening air.

“Are you finally gonna come to family dinners again now?” she heard Cassian ask and watched him as half-carried, half-dragged Azriel up the steps to the house. 

“I will,” he agreed. 

“And you are going to share some of your toys?” Cassian prodded. 

“He will,” Oriana agreed for him. “I’ll even make you your own when that is possible.”

“You know what, I like her,” Cassian said with a grin as he poured Azriel into the old rocking chair they kept on the porch.

“You can’t really say any differently, because you are still waiting for Azriel to rip out your throat,” she shot back. 

“Shh, don’t remind him,” Cassian shushed her wide-eye, making her snort. Azriel wasn't going to rip out his throat. They both knew. Give him a few bruises...once he felt better though, definitely. 

“You were supposed to stay in bed, Sweetling,” she told Azriel drily as she took in the way his skin was ashen, sweat beading at his hairline. This really wasn't good for him. 

“How about I sit right here, does that count?” he offered and she snorted. It was probably the best she could hope for. 

"You do that, and you take your pain position without argument," she told him pointedly. He just inclined his head. 

“You know Mor is going to be so sad that she didn’t see it,” Cassian commented at that moment to Rhys, who just glowered at him in response. “Or Amren.”

“Oh don’t worry, I’ll show them the whole thing,” Feyre said with a shrug, looking at her fingernails.

“Feyre Darling,” Rhys sighed.

“Nah, I agree, show them, Feyre,” Cassian said with a grin. “It’s not every day that you get to see Rhys dangling head down and apologising. So about family dinners…” he started once again.

“Well, we are already all here. If you want to get Amren and…Mor?  You could,” she suggested, looking at Azriel who looked anxious but hopeful. Hopeful that she was going to meet his family, and that she would get along with them. “Though you’ll all be subjected to my cooking.”

“The meatballs were definitely smelling mostly edible,”  Nesta said with a grin and she shrugged. 

“Just for that you can help me make bread,” she suggested, Nesta laughed but inclined her head. 

“I’ll go fetch them,” Feyre suggested brightly “Do you have an anti-winnowing ward on here?” she asked, but Oriana shook her head, opening it up with a turn of her bracelet. 

“Not anymore,” she said easily as she walked in. “One of you, get Azriel inside and put him somewhere to sit down!” she called over her shoulder. “And whoever else can help prepare a rabbit to roast, can help me in the kitchen!” 

Cassian ended up being the one following along in the kitchen, while Rhys got Azriel to sit at the dining table, fussing over him much to Azriel’s and her own chagrin.

“Did I break the winnowing ward?” Cassian asked her, sounding apologetic.

“No, she just lifted it,” Azriel answered. “I could feel that,” he told her drily and she shrugged. 

“I tied it to a bracelet,” she explained. “Makes it easier to change.”

“You can do that?” Rhysand asked and she just raised an eyebrow at him. 

“I can do nearly anything I put my mind to,” she told him pointedly. He inclined his head at that, and she pulled out the rabbit from the stasis cabinet she put it on, as Azriel had hunted it a week or so ago. 

Nesta and Rhys ended up helping with the bread, while Cassian cleaned and spitted the rabbit that ended up in the oven. 

Even Azriel got in on it, cleaning the potatoes she gave him, though she used an enchanted knife to peel them…making it much quicker than it would be to do it by hand. 

Feyre came back, a winged boy on her hip, Amren in two and a beautiful blonde female with her that Oriana had seen before. 

“Amren,” Oriana said with a smile, greeting one of her grandmother’s oldest friends. 

“Oriana,” Amren responded, inclining her head. “And our very own Shadowsinger. Your grandmother did mention that you always made the most interesting choices.” Oriana couldn’t help but laugh. 

“What can I say, normal is boring,” Oriana responded, much to the amusement of Nesta who snorted. 

“It’s so nice to meet you properly. I am Mor,” the blonde female burst out with, pulling her into a hug. “So, out of pure interest, what did Azriel do when he saw what you bought on you?” she teased her but Oriana just laughed. 

“He hasn’t yet,” she answered. “I am keeping it for a special occasion.” It made Mor grin and wink at her. Azriel watched the exchange with wide eyes. 

“Nothing that you need to worry about, sweetling,” she teased him and he just rolled his eyes at her. 

“And whose that?” Oriana asked turning to the little boy still in his mother’s arms that looked at her with bright blue eyes, the ball she had made him clutched in his hands. 

“That’s Nyx,” Feyre said with a grin. “Can you say hello to Oriana, Nyxie?” 

He gave her a toothy grin and then held out his arms for her, demandingly. 

“I think you got competition, Az,” Cassian muttered, making Azriel roll his eyes once again. Oriana just shook her head but offered her hands to the little boy who happily wrapped his fingers around hers. 

He looked like a perfect mix between his parents, with black, fluttering tiny wings that were absolutely adorable. 

She couldn’t help but wish that this was something that Azriel and she could have one day, that it was an option they had. They didn’t. But maybe that was okay. As long as she had AZriel, she was going to be happy. 

Anything else…that would just be the icing on an already perfect cake. 

“So who wants something to eat?” she asked brightly. 

[yeoldes]

JAYNE COUSLAND

NAME : Jayne Catherine Cousland NICKNAME(S) : Jaynie - only to a select few. She prefers being referred to by her proper name, or better yet, her title. TITLE(S) : Lady of Highever ( 9:30 - ), Lady Ambassador to Antiva ( 9:41 - ) GENDER : Cis Woman ORIENTATION : Heterosexual AGE : 15 - 16 ( DRAGON AGE ORIGINS ), 26 ( DRAGON AGE INQUISITION ) DATE OF BIRTH : Justinian 3, 9 : 15 Dragon PLACE OF BIRTH : Highever Castle, Kingdom of Ferelden

RESIDENCE : Often at court in Denerim, or abroad in Antiva RELIGION : Andrastian - at least for appearance's sake EDUCATION : A number of tutors, including Chantry education and some brief LANGUAGE(S) : Trade Tongue, Orlesian, and Antivan

MOTHER : Teyrna Eleanor Cousland ( DECEASED ) FATHER : Teyrn Bryce Cousland ( DECEASED ) SIBLING(S) : Teyrn Fergus Cousland ( OLDER BROTHER, ALIVE ), Warden Cousland ( OLDER SIBLING, CONDITIONAL ) SIGNIFICANT OTHER(S) : None CHILDREN : None OTHER : Lady Oriana Cousland ( SISTER-IN-LAW, DECEASED ), Lord Oren Cousland ( NEPHEW, DECEASED )

The youngest child of Rebellion heroes Teyrn Bryce Cousland and his wife, the Seawolf, Teyrna Eleanor Cousland, Jayne lived a charmed life. She terrorized her older siblings, doted on her nephew, and played with her dog. She was looking forward to her adulthood, when she might marry a handsome knight and look after her own household as her mother watched over Highever.

She noted down her day to day troubles ( such as they were ) in diaries. These were also where she began to note down her troubling dreams, though she told no one of them. They would later be evidence for her latent magickal ability.

It would be in 9:30 Dragon that the Couslands suffered their greatest tragedy. Their dear friend, Arl Rendon Howe, betrayed them and attacked in the middle of the night. Jayne might have had her throat cut in her bed if not for the fact that she lay sleeping in a chair in the library, woken by the screaming and smell of flame. In her attempted escape, Jayne found herself trapped under a fallen beam and cried out for help - that cry, unbeknownst to her at the time - was answered by a demon.

The next thing she remembered, she woke in the forest just beyond the castle. Though she quickly made for the nearest town, she was tracked down by Howe’s men. They were ready to deliver her as hostage to Howe when Rage overcame her and left the men two twisted, smoking husks. Her miseries compounded when the display was caught by two Templars who promptly neutralized the “ rogue mage ” and shackled her. They were unkind, feeding her only enough to survive and keeping her bound as they made the journey to Kinloch Hold.

The Warden ( Cousland or not ) will come across Jayne and the pair of Templars in a random encounter and can choose whether or not to free her and kill her captors. If the choice is made not to kill her, a corpse labeled “ Jayne ” can be found in Kinloch hold with a codex entry explaining the circumstances. As a companion, Jayne is not the strongest. Though she has magickal ability and her possession is revealed quickly, she chooses to continue using a bow as her primary weapon, coating her arrows with poison. She also becomes an adept poisoner, studying from books Bodhan lends her. Her personal quest is similar to the attempt at helping Connor, and must be completed after his. If you kill Connor, she will flee, and will be fought later as a boss in a random encounter. If you do not do her personal quest, she will die.

After the Blight was over, Jayne took up residence at the family’s home in Denerim and became a courtier. Her fluency in Antiva made her an invaluable asset to the Ambassador to Antiva at that time, who she would accompany as a companion and assistant. In 9:38, she would expose that same Ambassador for treasonous dealings and take on the role of Antivan Ambassador for herself at the tender age of twenty-three. Many whispered she had orchestrated some plot, but it was not provable, and the Couslands have ever been of unimpeachable character. Right?

When the Inquisition forms in 9:41, the Inquisitor will receive a letter from the Lady Ambassador expressing her congratulations at their new station and an invitation to a party being held in Denerim at her family’s estate. She can be recruited as an agent by Leliana, though Leliana may warn the Inquisitor that Lady Jayne is as like to be spying on them as for them.

[notapaladin]

flew like a moth to you

proof that i am capable of writing stuff that’s not for obsblood or my ffxiv ocs: exhibit B. there is fitzroy/kip smut in this because i have ONE brand and i do it well

also on AO3!

-

Kip thinks, if there was true justice in the world, the man he loves would always be surrounded by light. Not that he isn’t usually; free of all the weight of an empire, his easy smile would light up rooms even if he hadn’t discovered spangles and prisms and Ystharian neon (that last one had made Conju turn green, and they’re in the middle of a cold war regarding the suitability of light-up footwear). But a man like him (Fitzroy, Artorin, his Tor) ought by rights to stand forever in sunlight.

There had been sunlight earlier, when they’d tumbled onto the bed together, and the afternoon had drenched them both in gold. Now their clothing’s long discarded into the formless irrelevant void that is the rest of the room, and nothing but long shadows cover them. That’s alright. He doesn’t need to see. He’d know his lord’s body if that first sight of his eyes had blinded him.

“Gods—gods, Kip, there—!”

Admittedly, it’s still nice to have direction. Grinning, he shifts his weight and hikes Tor’s leg up a little higher on his shoulder. Like this he has a better angle, and the next long slick inward slide of his fingers makes his lover’s whole body arch. “Like this?” he breathes. Another push, carefully working him open. It’s been a thousand years since anyone’s touched this man, and he wants to make it good. “Like this, my lord?”

Tor inhales hazily, golden eyes like fire. He’s like a vice around Kip’s fingers, and when he speaks his voice is rough with want. His cock, still untouched, is so hard that Kip’s free hand positively aches to wrap around it. “Fuck, yes.”

“Good.” Good, but not enough. He’d die before causing his lord the least amount of pain after all he’s been through. (Well, maybe if Tor asked...hm, no, probably not. Unless Tor really wanted him to.) He adds a third finger experimentally and Tor’s mouth drops open; for a moment he thinks it’s too much, but then Tor shudders, clenches down—ow, alright, good thing he doesn’t need that hand to hold a pen—and goes near-boneless, breath escaping him in tiny sounds of pleasure as though he’s too overwhelmed for more. He strokes down Tor’s thigh, soothing him. “Mmm. You’re doing very well for me.”

Tor whines wordlessly. It’s possibly one of the hottest things Kip’s ever heard, and whatever it does to his facial expressions makes his lover shudder and roll his hips, trying to urge the proceedings on. “Hurry up,” he huffs, and it might even sound commanding if his voice wasn’t close to cracking.

Kip needs to take a second to breathe. Hurrying up really is looking like a more and more attractive prospect, but surely Tor can wait a little longer. He needs to gather his nerve, damn it. His fingers curl, and as Tor’s breath stutters out of him in a cry he murmurs, “So impatient.”

“A thousand years, Kip!” It’s almost desperate, and finally Kip has to take pity on him.

And on himself. How long has it been? Gods, he can’t even remember. He has to swallow through a throat gone suddenly dry. “Mm. Alright, then.”

And he guides himself in, slow and careful. The light slanting through the windows is just enough for him to watch the way Tor’s face changes, the way his eyes go wide and his mouth drops open in surprised pleasure. Tor is hot and tight and absolutely perfect around him, and he has to take a moment to grit his teeth and think of unpleasant things. (Princess Oriana. Rufus. That long eternity where he’d been dealing with the postal service and had started seeing area codes in his sleep. The journey across the Wide Sea...no, that’s too unpleasant.) It gives him back enough control to risk a first slow thrust.

Tor makes another noise and reaches for him, and he lowers himself down so no-longer-gold-lacquered nails can dig into his shoulders. They’re finally almost, almost close enough; Tor’s breath comes in hot little pants as he adjusts, and the next thrust punches a sound out of him. “Nnh.”

He’s danced the fire at the feet of the Sun, but it still takes all his self-control to hold himself still when he hears that noise. It’s certainly not one of pain, but there are tears in his lover’s eyes and he knows how easy it can be for Tor to be overwhelmed. He bites his lip, thighs quivering, and breathes, “...Alright?”

Tor sucks in a deep breath and arches, opening himself up a little wider. His eyes are still suspiciously damp, but when they lock onto his they almost burn. “Yes,” he gasps, and then again, “Yes.”

He starts to move. And then he doesn’t need to ask if Tor likes this or that, because Tor is vocal. Each thrust punches a gasp or a little cry out of him, and he knows when he’s found the perfect angle after a few moments because Tor almost sobs and scratches down his back; that will sting later, but now he barely feels it. His world is this soft bed, these growing shadows, the tight slick heat of his lover’s body all around him. His own voice comes out in something like a growl. “Gods, you feel—you are perfect—” You have to know, he thinks with what little higher brain power he still has. You have to know that you are. Not as a legendary poet, not as a living god. Just you.

Tor makes another one of those desperate noises and does something with some inner muscles that has Kip gasping; he can’t revel in the feeling for long, though, because then his lover’s voice snaps, “Harder.”

Oh, he can do harder. He shifts his weight, bracing himself with a hand on the bed, and snaps his hips forward once, twice. “Like that?”

“Gods, yes—” Tor cuts himself off with a cry, because now that Kip knows just what his lover likes he’s hardly going to stop. It’s easy to keep a rhythm going now that he has one, easy to brace himself and drive deep with Tor urging him on. Even the sting of his nails in his shoulders is welcome. Experimentally he lowers his mouth to Tor’s throat—it would leave a mark, if his skin were paler—and revels in the groan that gets. His hips stutter a little in their movements, and he looses his own growl low in his throat.

He’d really thought he had more stamina than this, but the heat coiling through his veins and simmering under his skin is rapidly approaching a point he’s not sure he can pull back from. Tor’s just...gods, he thinks dizzily, if I ever find the man responsible for the Imperial taboos I could murder them for keeping this from me. When Tor shudders, tightening around him, he feels his control fray even further. “Not going to last,” he pants.

Tor’s voice is starting to come out ragged. “A thousand years, Kip, I don’t care—oh!” His orgasm strikes midsentence, spasming so hard around Kip’s shaft that his own vision blurs at the edges. A little more, just a little more—

He breaks hard, fast, and all at once, eyes squeezing shut. He’s glad now that he’s got a fistful of the blankets; they can be replaced, and he’s sure he’s just put holes in them. His other hand on Tor’s hip tightens hard enough that it must hurt, and later he’ll probably feel bad about that. Probably. Right now he can’t focus on anything except the blinding ecstasy racing through him, pulsing in time with his heart. Thoughts fade. His surroundings fade. All that matters is Tor.

It’s a while before he remembers how to form words. “...That was...”

“Mmf,” says Tor into his shoulder.

Pulling out is the absolute last thing he ever wants to do, but he knows it’ll get uncomfortable if he doesn’t. The noise Tor makes when he does is a shuddery gasping sigh that makes even his entirely spent cock give a half-hearted twitch. He pets down Tor’s side in what he hopes is a soothing manner. “Are you alright? How do you feel?”

“...Gnnngh,” Tor mumbles.

And then he flashes Kip a thumbs-up.

Kip starts to grin, and then Fitzroy grins back—it’s definitely Fitzroy with that mischief in his eyes—and then they’re both laughing until Kip has to bury his face in Tor’s shoulder. Eventually, they’ll both have to clean up and get dressed again. Eventually, someone will start yelling up the stairs that it’s time for dinner and if they don’t hurry all the food will be gone—and they’ve definitely worked up an appetite. But now it’s just them, and Kip doesn’t need the sunlight to feel warm.

[shannaraisles]

Ena’Vun - Prologue

Read on AO3

***

PROLOGUE

For the attention of Teyrn Fergus Cousland of Highever

     My lord,      I am pleased to convey to you the news that your brother, Lord Bryland Cousland, was the lone survivor of the explosion at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Due to the circumstances of his survival, he bears the mark of the same magic that created the Breach now marring our skies. Due to unfortunate rumors surrounding his emergence from the Temple, some are now calling him the Herald of Andraste, which has attracted no little hostility from the Chantry. The Inquisition is well able to protect him against such hostilities, I assure you.      Lord Bryland has agreed to remain in Haven and assist the Inquisition in closing the Breach, finding those responsible, and bringing them to justice. His only concern was that his family should be made aware of his situation which, as you can see, is easily done. He wishes me to assure you that he has not been harmed, and that he is well cared for. He also requests that a way be found to bring his mabari hound here to Haven, if it is possible.      Rest assured that the Inquisition is committed to the goals laid down in this missive.      With warm regards,             Josephine Montilyet

Fergus stared at the missive in his hands for a long moment, torn between relief that his baby brother was alive and annoyance that yet another Cousland had got themselves into the middle of something that was far too big for one person to handle.

"What did you do to end up there, you idiot?" he muttered, rising to his feet, the parchment still in his hand.

"Which idiot is that, my lord?"

The teyrn hesitated, glancing toward the fireplace, where his wife was rocking their newborn son gently. For just a moment, the haze of sad memory lowered, painting her as Oriana with a newborn Oren, but no ... those days were long gone, those lives snuffed out a full decade before. This was Madeleine, his wife of a little over a year, and their newborn son, named for the grandfather whose life’s blood had soaked into these stones what seemed a lifetime ago.

"My brother," he told her, reaching for the door. "Bryland is mixed up with this Inquisition - I'll tell you in a moment."

With a nod, he left her in the warm study, stepping out into the corridors of Highever Keep in search of the captain of his guard. He found him drilling the new recruits in the courtyard in front of the keep, between the rebuilt and far more easily held walls that surrounded both keep and bailey.

"Ser Gilmore!"

The redheaded captain turned to his teyrn, handing the recruits into the care of his second with a simple word before moving to join Fergus.

"Your lordship?"

"Read this."

Fergus thrust the parchment letter from Haven into his guard captain's hands. Gilmore scanned the delicate lines of writing for a moment, fighting unsuccessfully to keep a resigned smile from touching his expression as he handed it back to his teyrn.

"Put together a personal guard for him and send them to Haven, would you?" Fergus then ordered. "They're seconded to the Inquisition until they are recalled to Highever."

"At your command, your lordship. And the mabari?"

Fergus scowled, letting out a sigh.

"All right, take the damned dog as well," he conceded. "We could do without the noise, anyway."

***

For the attention of the Princess-Consort of Ferelden

     Your highness,      I am pleased to convey to you the news that your brother, Lord Bryland ...

Elinar's eyes flicked back and forth across the letter in her hand, her expression growing more and more tense as she did so. It was bad enough that Dermot was a Grey Warden and could never again truly be one of them, but now Bryland had to go and get himself marked for death by the Chantry?

"Marked," she murmured, her gaze returning to a pertinent line.

     Your brother requested that I inform you of the position of the mark that he bears - it is placed seemingly in the palm of his left hand.

Unconsciously, Elinar looked down at her own left hand, withered and gray from her brush with the Blight, all but useless unless she had a shield strapped to her arm. Her jaw set in hard lines, worry for her little brother suffusing every atom of her being. Would he, too, be maimed for only doing what was right? There was no doubt in her mind that he had been in the wrong place at the right time to have ended up in the middle of all this. Her little brother was not a murderer.

"Elinar?"

A soft hand covered her right, and she realized she had been crumpling the letter in her fist, staring into space as she considered what consequences Bryland was going to have to survive in all this. The hand that drew her back from those dark thoughts was the hand she had guarded and protected all these years, the hand that belonged to the woman who held her heart.

Anora was watching her face in concern, gently smoothing her fingers out before she could cut her palm with her nails as she was so wont to do in times of stress. Elinar drew in a deep breath, producing a small smile for her wife and queen.

"Bryland is this new Herald of Andraste," she said, and it was all she needed to say.

Anora nodded slowly, a resigned smile on her face.

"You Couslands are always at the heart of the matter, aren't you?" she accused affectionately. "The Inquisition, though small, is a strong unit. He will be well guarded. And unfortunately we have larger problems at the moment."

Elinar's frown this time was one of concern for her wife.

"The mages?" she asked.

Queen Anora nodded once again, tired of being caught between the Chantry and the free mages.

"There is a rumor that they are seeking outside assistance in their fight against the templars," she told Elinar worriedly. "I fear I will have to make a decision on their continued sanctuary sooner than we hoped."

Wrapping her arm about Anora's shoulders, Elinar kissed the silver-touched gold of her wife's hair gently. The world was rushing toward chaos, and all they could do was hope to keep their small corner of it as peaceful as possible for as long as they could.

***

Dermot Cousland, Grey Warden, Hero of Ferelden, and Hero of the Fifth Blight, got about four lines in before he burst out laughing. That was how Zevran found him moments later, bent double on his knees by the fire, laughing hysterically as he waved a small piece of parchment around.

"I am almost afraid to ask, mi amor."

The Antivan assassin smiled, grabbing the parchment from his lover's hand to skim the contents. His own lips twitched toward a smile as he did so.

"Your brother is quite the adventurer still, no?"

Snorting as he tried to get himself under control, Dermot wheezed, pushing himself back onto the log that was serving as a seat for the evening. He wiped a stray tear from his cheek.

"Of all the times to go and get himself mixed up in something huge, it had to be now," he managed, shaking his head. "I'm sure Fergus is delighted."

Leaning against his side, Zevran perused the letter once again.

"Ah, I see he has the delicate Leliana at his side," he commented. "I wonder how she has been these past years. Divine Justinia was no easy taskmaster, I imagine."

"It's bad timing for us, though," Dermot answered, his laughter fading swiftly now the initial reaction was passed. "I can't go back and help him. This is too important to put off any longer."

His gloved fingers twined with Zevran's, holding on tighter than might be necessary, communicating the fear neither one of them was prepared to speak aloud. The Calling was coming for him, could come at any time, and from what they had heard from Alistair and Loghain, had come early for too many Wardens in the last few months. There had to be a cure somewhere. But he couldn't just abandon his little brother, either.

"Zevran," he began, but his lover was ahead of him.

"You know, I was loath to admit it, but I have some unfinished business in Southern Thedas," the assassin said easily, stroking the back of Dermot's hand against his tattooed cheek. "Would you mind terribly if I went back for a month or so, and then met up with you further west?"

Dermot let out a rush of breath, leaning closer to rest his forehead against Zevran's, closing his eyes in relief.

"Thank you, amorcito," he murmured. "You always know just what to do."

Zevran smiled in the flickering darkness.

"For you, mi amor, I would do anything."

[allisondraste]

Temperance (20/?)

Pairing: Nathaniel Howe/ Female, Non-HoF Cousland

Story Summary: Nathaniel and Elissa were childhood friends, but time and distance tore them apart. In the aftermath of the Fifth Blight, and Ferelden’s Civil War, both Elissa and Nathaniel must attempt reconstruct their tattered lives. As a series of events lead them to be reunited, both are reminded of so many years ago when things were much simpler.

Chapter Summary:    It’d be better if people could love who they wanted. 

First Chapter Previous Chapter [AO3 LINK]

Highever, 9:21 Dragon

Liss had been in trouble plenty of times, but she had never been in “sit in Papa’s chair in his office while he and Mama pace about angrily” trouble.  She actually wasn’t certain who to be more afraid of at the moment: Her mother, who ranted and scolded and lectured and scolded some more, or her father who tapped his chin quietly as he read over a small scroll of parchment in his hand.  She decided they were equally bad, and she wanted to toss herself into the nearest waste bin, melt into the floor —something, anything to escape her parents disappointment and scrutiny.  

It didn’t help that she wasn’t even sure what she had done yet. She’d been telling Nate, well actually expounding in great detail to Nate, about Orzammar and Dwarven Culture. Specifically, she’d been discussing brontos, how they were rare in Northern Ferelden, and what she would sell to see one.  Namely, her left arm. He had gently encouraged her not to do that and then her parents walked in, pale and scowling. Whatever it was, she was done for.

Papa stopped reading and pacing and sat the parchment down on the desk in front of Liss, sliding it to her.  She blinked up at him to make sure he meant for her to read it and he nodded. His eyes were still gentle, but she could tell he was trying hard to hide it.  It was good that he wasn’t too stern because Mama was mean enough for the both of them when she wanted to be.

Looking down at the note, Liss saw lines of neatly written letters, nothing elaborate as a scribe would produce, however.   Her stomach sank as she began to read aloud.

To My Lord and Lady Cousland,

It is with much sorrow that I ask to be released from my duties here at your castle, so that my daughter and I may move and begin our lives elsewhere.  I am concerned with the relationship between my Rila, and Lady Elissa, and what it might mean for both of them. I harbor no hard feelings toward your family, but I have lived long enough to know what happens when elven servants become involved romantically with nobility.  I would hate for either of our daughters to be a part of such a scandal. They care for one another deeply, I can tell, but it is hard for them to understand how serious it is. I think it is best if I remove Rila from the situation altogether.

I am grateful for your family’s kindness in many ways.  

Sincerely,

Deveni

She looked up from the note, tears hot in her eyes and rolling down her face as she looked at her father.  Even less stern than before, he still shook his head to indicate his disapproval. Her mother grew quiet, eyes filled with concern even through her obvious anger.  

“We told you to leave that girl alone,” she said coldly, words clipped at the end, “We made it very, very clear that you were not to even be friends with her, let alone more than that.”

“Why,” Liss cried, more tears falling, “Why can’t we be together?  It’s not fair.”

“Elissa,” Papa sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Pup, I wish that we lived in a world where you could be with whoever you wanted.  I wish I could give that to you, but I can’t. Unfortunately, there are those among the noble houses of Ferelden who would view your relationship with Rila as political leverage against our family.  They’d use it to hurt us and you. Rila, too.”

“But-”

“Sweetheart,’ Mama said, softening finally, “Can you not see that we are protecting you, just as Rila’s mother is protecting her?  You are lucky Deveni is a kind person. No telling who she could have sold this information to otherwise.”

Papa furrowed his brows, thinking, and looked at Liss.  “How many people know about you and Rila, that you know of?”

“Just Nathaniel,” Liss replied with a sniffle, “I didn’t even tell Fergus.”

He shrugged.  “Wise choice. That boy couldn’t keep a secret if his life depended on it.”

Liss disagreed.  Fergus was very good at keeping secrets -- the best-- but she didn’t feel like suffering his teasing, or putting him in an awkward position with their parents. Besides, he had enough on is plate, spending every waking minute with lovely Oriana.  Liss couldn’t blame him. She was perfect, after all.

“Do you trust Nathaniel?” Her mother’s question was sincere and curious, though Liss was taken aback.  Of course she did!

“More than anyone,” Liss answered with a nod, and her parents both raised their eyebrows and looked at one another.

“Even us,” Papa asked.

Guilt washed over her, but she told the truth anyway.  “Yes.”

“Well,” he replied with a chuckle, “Better hold on to him.  People like that are hard to find.”

Mama nodded along in agreement, and they all sat in a tense silence for a few moments before Liss gathered the courage to speak again.

“Could I, um,” she began, heart climbing up her throat, “Could I at least say goodbye to Rila?”

Again, her parents looked at one another and then back to her with sympathetic expressions.  

“Pup, Rila and her mother left this morning,” Papa explained, placing his hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

Liss choked back the sob that followed and took a deep breath, eyes focused on the grain of the wood of her father’s desk.  “Are we done talking?”

“Yes,” Mama said gently, “You can go, if you want to.”

That was all the permission she needed to jump up from the chair, and dart out of the room leaving her parents with their tired and worried expressions behind.  Her heart was broken, shattered at the notion that her parents waited until Rila was gone to tell her any of this. That she couldn’t even say goodbye to the girl she loved.  What if she blamed Liss? It was her fault, after all. Rila had always been worried that it was a bad idea, and Liss just ignored her concerns. Liss probably deserved all the heartache, considering.  

When she looked up, the door to Nate’s room stood before her.  She hated that she always wound up there when she was sad. Nate made her feel better, but what if it was the same with Rila, and he just felt like he had to comfort her?  She didn’t exactly give him a choice, spilling her guts over and over without even asking if he cared to hear it. What if he actually resented her for it? She stared at his door a few moments longer and spun on her heels to walk away.  It would be selfish of her to bother him with something like this again.

Liss had only taken a couple of steps when the sound of a door creaking open echoed through the hallway.  “Liss? You okay?”

She turned back to look at him immediately, and judging by the look on his face, she didn’t have to answer. “I’m sorry, I just… I’m…”

“Want to talk about it?”  He motioned with his head for her to come in, and she nodded, walking slowly, ashamedly past Nate and into his room.

Liss sat down unceremoniously on the floor by his bed, wrapping her arms around her legs and pressing her forehead to her knees.  She trembled as she fought the urge to release the sob she’d been holding since she’d run from Papa’s office. It wasn’t long before there was a warmth at her side and arms pulling her over into an embrace, Nate’s arms, hugging her first .   His chin was on her head, and were she not so overwhelmingly sad, she might be flustered.  

“Sorry to bother you,” she mumbled against his chest.

“You’re not,” he reassured her, “The only time you’ve ever bothered me is when you woke me up in the middle of the night to tell me about Warden Garahel and the Fourth Blight.”

“Yeah, that could have waited until the morning.”

“You think?”  He laughed, and it vibrated against her cheek.  There was a pause and he continued, “What’s wrong, Liss?”

“My parents found out about Rila,” she explained,”Which wouldn’t have been that bad, but the reason they found out was because her mother wrote them a letter to request permission to leave her job here and find work somewhere else.  She and Rila left this morning. I didn’t even get to tell her goodbye.”

Her lip quivered despite her efforts to keep it steady, and she became more and more upset with each word.  She grasped at the fabric of Nate’s shirt, and he held her more tightly as she released that stubborn sob.

“I’m sorry,” he said, nearly whispering, “I know you love her.”

“I’m not sure.  I mean, I feel like I love her, but… you don’t put someone you love in a situation like I did with Rila, do you?” Her tears began to fall more slowly, though her chest still ached. “No matter how much your heart wants you to.”

“It’s hard not to listen to your heart.”

“Why can’t we live in a world where it doesn’t matter?” She leaned back and looked up at Nate who stared off into the distance until he noticed her eyes on him and brought his to meet them. “We could love who we wanted.”

“It’d be nice, wouldn’t it?

“What about you,” she asked, pulling out of the embrace and leaning back against the side of the bed, “Have you ever loved someone you couldn’t be with?”

There was a pause, but he answered.  “I have.”

Liss snapped her head in his direction.  She had never imagined Nate loving anyone, or being with anyone in any romantic capacity.  He’d never really talked about it like Fergus did. He seemed completely uninterested. It hurt, how much she did not know about this side of him, but it was her fault that she never thought to ask.

“Really?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Is it that hard to believe?”  

“No, it’s just… I thought you’d tell me something like that, is all.” She couldn't really disguise the hurt that lingered at the end of that statement. She couldn’t tell if she was more hurt over the fact that he kept the secret, or that it existed in the first place.  She hated the jealousy that gnawed at her. She had no right.

“It’s hard to talk about,” he explained, dropping his head, “Sometimes I think about what might happen if I told her how I felt, but…it’s a bad idea.  Father has forbidden it, and I don’t know if she even feels the same way about me.”

New tears formed in Liss’ eyes, and they weren’t for Rila this time.  She reached over to take Nate’s hand, lacing her fingers through his. .

“Sorry,” he said and shook his head, squeezing her hand more tightly, “I didn’t mean to make this about me.”

“You didn’t.  I’m the one who asked.” She shrugged. “Besides, things are about me enough.”

“I wish…,” Nate began, but paused as if reconsidering what he was going to say.  He frowned and continued. “I wish that I could tell you about her.”

“You can.” She perked up.

“I really can’t.”

“Is she beautiful,” Liss asked and a smile twitched at the corner of Nate’s mouth.  She grinned. “Oh, so she is then?”

“She’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, in every way.  Not just on the outside.” He sighed and looked at her, pale eyes sparkling intently.  “She doesn’t even realize it, though. It’s frustrating how average she thinks she is.”

For a brief moment, Liss  could have sworn he was talking about her, the way their eyes met, but that was stupid.  Nate wouldn’t think about her that way. She wasn’t beautiful enough.

“Wow, she’s lucky,”  Liss blurted, and immediately regretted it, “...to have someone feel that way about her, that is.”

“You think so?” Nate laughed, clearly amused.

“If someone said that about me, I’d probably cry.”

“You cry over a lot of things,” Nate teased.

“Yes,” she remarked tersely, frowning, “And I’d cry over that, too.”

Liss almost forgot that she was holding Nate’s hand, until she noticed his thumb grazing hers softly, back and forth.  She watched for a moment, an overwhelming rush of feelings flooding through her. It was as natural and easy to hold his hand as it was to interlock her own fingers.  She’d never thought much about it; it was just something they did, something they had always done. Now, it meant so much. She tried to imagine a world where she couldn’t hold his hand, and every option made her sad.  Sadder than when she found out Rila was gone, sadder than anything.

Maybe she loved Rila, maybe not, but she knew without a shadow of a doubt, that she could never love another person like she loved Nathaniel.  She just wished so desperately that he loved her, too, that she was the person he’d been speaking of. She hated the idea that someone could swoop in and take him away from her.

“Liss?” Nate waved a hand in front of her face, and leaned in more closely, squinting.  She’d been so lost in her thoughts and she hadn’t even realized.

“Hmm?” She blinked and shook her head, heat rising to her cheeks with the nearness of him.

“You’re about to cry again,” he stated as if it were an indisputable fact.

“No, I’m not,” she protested as tears fell from her eyes.

Nate grabbed her shoulders firmly.  “What is it?”

“It’s dumb.”

Probably,” he said, dryly, “But it’s making you upset.”

Liss took a deep breath and braced herself for the confession she knew she shouldn’t make. “It’s so much easier to think about the fact that Rila is gone now than it is to think about you having to leave in the future.”

Nate blinked at her beneath furrowed brows, but said nothing, so she continued.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Nate,” she explained, throat aching with the emotion she kept trying to hold back.

He laughed, and she wasn’t sure what to make of it.  “I’m not going anywhere.”

“What if you do?” She pouted.  She must seem like such a child.

“You’d manage.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because you are smart, and strong, and kind, and everyone who meets you loves you.” He brought a hand up to wipe a tear from her cheek and let it linger there for a moment. “How could they not?”

“But everyone leaves,” she remarked, more tears replacing those that had fallen before. “Just like Rila.”

“I’m not everyone,” he said, almost sounding annoyed, as he brushed away her tears again.  “I’m also not Rila.”

Nate pressed his lips to her forehead briefly and then pulled away, eyes meeting hers, faces hovering close enough together that his breath warmed her face, colliding with hers.  Had she not not known any better, she would have thought he wanted to kiss her, and she wouldn’t dare stop him. In fact, she wanted him to do it, welcomed it. She wondered if his lips would be soft, what he’d taste like, and if he’d run his fingers through her hair.  Surely, he’d be good at it. He was good at everything else, so it only made sense.

But he didn’t kiss her.  Of course, he didn’t. It was Nate for Andraste’s sake! He was too thoughtful and reasonable to ever consider doing something so impulsive as kissing someone who clearly wanted to be kissed, who closed her eyes and waited until she realized he had turned away.  

“You don’t have to worry about losing me,” he said,  picking at a loose thread on his breeches and then looking up at her. “You’re my best friend, and I won’t let that happen.”

“Swear?” She glared at him through squinted eyes.  It was as playful a gesture as she could manage in her disappointment.

“On my life.” He smirked and looked back at her.

Leaning over against him, she looped her left arm through his right, head dropping to his shoulder.  He tilted his head so that it was against hers. It wasn’t a kiss, but she’d take it.

“Fine,” she relented, and told him what she had known all along.  “I trust you.”

[professordiggsy]

BACK BY POPULAR DEMAND (That nobody asked for) THE STORY OF THE RAVNICA GAME SO FAR, Part Two:

Having just negotiated themselves into the unusual mission of making an illegal arms delivery--to the same goblin mob boss they were hired to take into custody--our unlikely entourage of adventurers begin to prepare for what lies ahead.

As the party leaves Falish's workshop, Lurea takes a moment to question the artificer further.  Falish's remarks about Krenko "keeping the scales in balance" are echoing in Lurea's head for some reason, and she presses the ex-Izzet Leaguer for more info.  Falish explains that the balance of power in this part of the city is tenuous at best.  Keeping the various petty factions and gangs among the slums from tearing each other apart is crucial for the survival of these neighborhoods, and Krenko is a neutralizing force (even though his methods may not be above-board). 

Back on Tin Street proper, Esvele chooses--for now--to break with the party.  While her guild has tasked her to do good and spread charity wherever possible, the idea of supplying weapons to and furthering the goals of a known criminal sours her on this mission, and she tells the others that should their goals align in future, she will be willing to ally with them.  Until then, she must forge her own path.

The group's next stop?  The Millstone Tavern.  Lord A. and Oriana ask a passersby for directions, but their new "friend"--a goblin cutpurse looking for an easy mark--seems less likely to help without conning them out of a few extra zinos (or worse).  Luckily, some keen insight and to-the-point intimidation from Lurea allows them escort to the Millstone without further harassment. 

Inside the Millstone, the party makes the acquaintance of one of its current patrons: Sabina Jax, a goblin currently several drinks ahead of the group.  (Sabina's pet mouse, Leo DiCaprio, seemed to be keeping pace just fine all on his own.)  After introductions are made, Alric covertly casts Detect Good and Evil on Sabina, who is giving off a vague but unrecognizable aura--possibly similar to those detected in aberrations.  Caaki, Oriana and Lunan, recognizing Sabina as a fellow member of the Cult of Rakdos, begin comparing notes (figuratively and literally) as the partying gets underway...

Meanwhile, Lord A. and Nex check in at the bar with their assumed contact, Wyroon, to negotiate lodging for the night.  Lurea stays close by to keep an ear out.  Wyroon checks the validity of Falish's calling card (although only Lord A. notices that Wyroon lights a small fire with just a snap of his fingers, igniting card and causing it to burn up almost instantly in a multi-colored burst of flame--red, white, blue, purple and green all at once).  Their contact proven legit, Wyroon offers the group free lodging for the night, and any refreshment they might require at a discount.  They briefly chat with the minotaur bartender about his connection to Falish--all Wyroon was willing to offer is that the two have an interest in looking out for the common folk of Ravnica.

As the party winds down for the night (or winds up, depending on who's involved), Lurea slips away from the group and exits the bar.  Searching the nearby street gutters for a nearby access point--while checking to see if anyone notices--she pries loose a sewer grate and heads underground.  After an hour of navigating the tunnels and catacombs of the Undercity, she arrives at a lavish (but moldering) gothic mansion, suspended upside down in a huge cavern.

Greeted at the door by an ashen, fungus infested kraul (an insectoid sapient race known to inhabit the Undercity), Lurea is brought to the opulent dining hall of Szakel Vlantimeer.  Conferring with her mentor, Lurea realizes that the psychic message she received ("the scales must remain balanced") was not sent by Szakel, nor did he know its meaning.  As this unsolved mystery burned in Lurea's brain, Szakel instructed the kraul--who apparently answers to Truffles--to escort Lurea to a room where she could rest until dawn. 

The next morning, the group convenes downstairs for coffee and strategy.  As some of the group nurses their hangovers (and Lord A. learns that not all coffee is high-end), Lurea questions Wyroon as to his intentions, as well as those of Falish.  Wyroon explains that the guilds--for all the good they have done (and still do) for the city--often forget about the citizens on the bottom rung of the ladder in their squabbles and feuds.  People get caught in the middle.  People get hurt, especially in parts of the city like the Sixth Precinct.  Wyroon--and Falish, who he vouches for--try to do what's best for the downtrodden and marginalized, even if their methods aren't fully "on the books" with the guilds.

A short walk later, the party finds themselves back in the alley behind the Ultramarine Ursine, at the door to Falish's workshop.  Nex knocks at the door, and Falish invites them in to plan and prepare.

Falish has a crate prepared of weapons and munitions.  The party will travel through the sewers under the 6th Precinct, and deliver the crate to the drop point near Foundry Street.

Falish gives the group the following advice/warnings:

- It's unknown exactly what threats dwell in that part of the sewers, but this particular network of tunnels runs above/close to Golgari territory.

- She didn't know the exact location of Krenko's hideout, but that it was somewhere close by to the drop point.

- Once the crate reached the drop point, built-in tech would send a message to Krenko (or his subordinates).

- Falish advised the party that it was crucial to let Krenko pick up the weapons--their absence could tip him off to something being amiss, as well as expose Falish to possible retaliation.

 As the group rigs a crude setup for the hearty Caaki to carry the crate on his back, and prepares to descend into a secret sewer access tunnel (hidden in the back of Falish's workshop), Lurea and Alric hang back a moment to speak w/ Falish.  Lurea is given pause by Falish's words in their last meeting.  What did she mean by Krenko keeping the scales in balance?  Well, while Krenko may be a criminal, his methods--and his presence--keep the petty factions of Tin Street and the greater area of the Sixth Precinct from tearing themselves apart (and destroying the surrounding neighborhoods in the process).  Taking Krenko off of the field of play could disrupt that balance, and possibly trigger a chain reaction in the criminal gang landscape of Ravnica.

At the bottom of the access shaft, the group tries to get their bearings. Most of them are clueless as to where to go, but Nex, having an awareness of the Undercity through his connection to the Golgari kraul, is able to orient the party in the right direction.  Lunan is able to improve their odds further by identifying faint muddy bootprints in the muck, roughly the size of a goblin or other small humanoid.  They have a trail...

After following the bootprints for the better part of an hour, the group reaches a stretch of tunnel where the usual sewer refuse was broken up by patches of murky gray water.  Lunan finds out--the hard way--that those patches were in fact a pair of gray oozes lurking on the tunnel floor.  The disturbance also attracts the attention of three giant rats lurking in the darkness.  With some quick spell-casting, and some surgical strikes, the party makes short work of the creatures.  Startled but emboldened by their swift victory, they push forward into the sewers...

[nehswritesstuffs]

Stars in A Sky of Blood and Blue - Part LII

Gosh, I really wanted to write some more of Danny’s relationships with Clara and Martha as per this AU, which of course lead to this chapter.

Chapter Index - ff.net - AO3

Old Rumors and New Lies; The Marchioness, the Earlessa, and the Baron attend the official elevation of a young lord to his ancestral seat. Not all there are happy, and some decide to take it out on a few of the guests... [nobility/kids Whouffaldi AU]

Rough ages are as follows: Johan at 62, Daniel at 45, Clara at 43, Martha at 40, a new character(!) at 18, Lena at 12, Astra and Tara at an old 9, Sterling at 6, Oriana solidly at 4, Maglina having just turned 4, and Seren hasn’t been in the oven for very long (takes place in the middle of the timeskip in ch.9).

Water slowly dripped down from the side of the carriage, splashing lazily on Lena’s outstretched hand. The tween, although happy that the rain from earlier had let up, was bored out of her mind as she rode quietly with her mother.

“Bring your hand back inside,” the Marchioness said flatly. Her daughter glanced over to see that she was still reading her book, and then ignored her. “I meant now.”

Lena brought her hand in and allowed herself to crumple on her side of the carriage. “It never takes this long when we normally visit.”

“We normally have more people with us to help pass the time,” her mother explained. “Consider this a decent break from your studies; normally you would be writing three different farming reports, doing advanced mathematics, and attempting to recite law verbatim from memory.”

“I guess,” Lena mumbled. Propping her legs up so her feet nearly touched the ceiling and her skirt slid down into her lap, she loathed how time had ground to a halt as it was just her and her mother, though she figured the company could have definitely been worse.

It took until the carriage passed through a familiar town before the young earlessa’s spirits perked up. Coal’s Hill, the economic and cultural center of the Barony of Coal-on-the-Hill was tiny compared to the City and Earldom of Gallifrey—let alone the March of Kasterborous—yet it was still one of the girl’s favorite places in the kingdom. Pedestrians and those on horseback waved happily at her and she waved back, for everyone knew who she was and the importance that her family held in not only the kingdom, but in the creation of their liege lord as well as his courtly tutelage

Once on the other side of the town, the coachman made a sharp turn and headed down the long drive that brought them to Hill House, the grand estate that was their destination. They had barely stopped in front of the mansion when Lena jumped from the carriage and began hopping around in frustration, attempting to shake away the stiffness gained from being cooped up for so long.

“Next time you don’t have enough energy to spar with Tara, I’m calling your bluff for certain,” Daniel laughed as he came out the front door. Footmen came behind him and began to unpack the trunks from the back of the carriage while their lord greeted their guests. “How was the trip, Clara?”

“You know how fate is supposed to give a person another version of them amongst their children?” the Marchioness posed as she was helped from the carriage. She motioned towards Lena and grit her teeth. “I think I’ve found twelve-year-old Johan.”

Daniel bit the inside of his lips and let his eyes go wide and his brows arch as he turned his head away from the Marchioness. He then raised his hands in mock surrender before letting out a heavy sigh. “Stars help me if Oriana takes after her dad.”

“…in all the best ways, I’m certain,” the Marchioness laughed. She then summoned her daughter and the three went into Hill House. With his guests ahead of schedule, Daniel was more than happy to play host for a day longer than planned.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Two days later, the same carriage that brought the Marchioness and her daughter was once again packed, this time with the Baron’s luggage as well. They started early in the morning, before the sun peeked over the baronial hills, reaching their destination before lunch. The trip made the Earlessa much more excitable, for she could not recall having ever been inside Shoreditch.

The Barony of Shoreditch, once a sister-state to Coal-on-the-Hill, lied along the westward ocean shores on the other side of a low mountain range that separated the two baronies. With its population concentrated mainly at the mouth of the River Luye—an important shipping gateway into a nearby portion of the kingdom’s interior—its apex position within the local economy allowed it to have long been mismanaged by nobility from a line of the debauched, drunk, and dismal. It had only been within the past few years that the governing line had taken helm of the area and her long-ignored issues, with that responsibility landing on the young heir of the baron himself. Later that day, as the setting sun would brightly illuminate the Baronica Hall inside Shores’ Watch, the lad would take his father’s place in the lands despite the fact the older man still drew breath; it was certain to be an event none of them wanted to miss.

Whilst Coal-on-the-Hill was green and sunny, with gentle rains and warm breezes, Shoreditch was cold and stark in comparison. Lena watched intently from the carriage as their surroundings changed from the familiar broadleaf trees and pastures in Coal-on-the-Hill to the pines and boulders of the mountain passes, finally becoming shrubs and grasses forced to steel themselves in the moist winds off the ocean.

“I don’t know if I like it here,” she frowned.

“It’s not bad,” the Baron assured. “The ocean makes it windy and a bit brisk, yeah, but just wait until the dinner tonight—seafood unlike anything Blackpoole has to offer.”

“Considering I’m letting him get away with saying that, you know it has to be true,” the Marchioness added. She was beginning to wonder if bringing her daughter was a mistake about to erupt in her face, as it was soon to be one of the most delicate situations that Lena had ever been in. It was better than bringing the Marquis—that was for certain—yet her daughter’s imitation of her father’s irritability and brashness was sure to be tested on the trip.

Soon, they pulled up to a castle carved from the very rock that ran beneath the carriage’s wheels and into the higher ground that led to the mountains. Shores’ Watch was at the very top of a ridge, one that towered over the village below and the harbor it surrounded. Its young, short, slightly-built master greeted his guests as they came to a stop, an expression of optimistic nervousness slapped across his face.

“How are you doing, Conor?” the Baron asked. He helped the Marchioness from the carriage while his younger counterpart helped Lena. “No one’s been causing you trouble, I hope.”

“No one other than Papa, though you three are the first guests to arrive,” the young lord said. “I have been told that not many are against my taking over Shoreditch so early… though I don’t really want today to be the day I learn who they are.”

“I’m sure you’ll do splendid,” the Marchioness said. It was then that the lordling bowed towards her, making his deep respect apparent.

“Thank you so much for coming, Your Ladyship,” he said. “It means more than you realize, at least in my eyes. Considering the encouragement you’ve given and the support you and your husband have provided my confidant Lord Pink and myself, I doubt I would be here right now.”

“There is no harm in taking an interest in our friends’ baronial neighbors attempting a turnaround such as yours,” the Marchioness replied. “Johan and I are hoping to hear that your lands reach a state of recovery sooner rather than later; your mind is especially sharp and we believe that if anyone can do it, then you can. Corresponding with your elders throughout the kingdom for advice is a wise move for someone of your age, and I hope it continues.”

“Encouraging words aren’t often spoken on these grounds—I appreciate it.” He then turned towards Lena and motioned with his head towards where they could see the ocean waters. “Would you like me to show you a better view of the seas before there are too many guests? If your Most Honorable Mother would permit me, that is.”

“Is there a better view of the seas?” the Marchioness chuckled.

“Down by the storm shelters; some rock formations cut from the waters are easily visible from there, whereas up here they’re hidden by the rest of the point we’re standing on.”

“Then go and be quick about it.” She shooed them off and shook her head as she glanced at the Baron. “He’s still just a child; how is he going to take on all of Shoreditch by himself while so young?”

“Simple: he has to,” he shrugged. “From what I understand, Alaric never was one for doing anything that didn’t involve a bottle or a bed and poor Nora can’t wrap her head around much more than the weather and what the latest fashion is in the capitol, though not why. Conor is Shoreditch’s only hope to keep from a stewardship, and even His Highness is aware of that.” He watched suspiciously as the house’s footmen finished taking in their luggage, keeping an eye on them. “Be careful; we don’t know who is out for blood and who is not.”

“You’re being paranoid, again; if anyone looks suspicious here, it’s you Lord Cybera,” the Marchioness teased. She took his arm and they walked into Shores’ Watch together. They were led towards the lounge to await their host and luncheon. Conor’s lady mother was there, just as tiny and slight as her son, and was able to entertain her son’s guests to the best of her ability—making apologies for her absent husband and assuring that yes, the weather was doing splendid for the time of year. A few more guests arrived before a wind-whipped Conor and Lena returned, the latter chattering on as though she was in her first year of secondary school and the former was her outgoing student-mentor. With his final act of childish fun behind him, the lordling made his apologies to the new guests and began the long, arduous process of hosting his own creation ceremony.

Lunch passed and more visitors came. As men and women of local importance flooded Shores’ Watch, the Baron leaned towards the Marchioness and quietly explained who they were and why they were likely to be there. She very quickly learned who were the snakes, the voles, and those who were merely trying their best, all through her friend’s deadpan commentary. They were barely without one another as the afternoon wore on, keeping one another sane as other lords and ladies and local figures alike introduced themselves and marveled privately at how a northern marchioness and earlessa was there at what was otherwise one of the more humble seats of governance.

Soon, the sun began to set and the guests were all funneled into the grand ballroom, Baronica Hall, where breathtaking windows of colored glasses bathed everything and everyone in dozens upon dozens of dazzling colors. The ceremony was quick in order to accommodate the precise timeframe they had with the sunlight, ending just before the sun set and turned the world to a soft blue twilight.

Then it was time for the feast—oh, the feast! The Baron had guessed correctly when he had predicted an excellent spread of seafood, for that was what was laid before them. There were many different fishes, each in their own sauce, in such a variety that most lost track of their names. Crabs and lobsters had been shelled and turned into sweet, tender dishes, whilst things that many could not name were also paraded around. Even the mutton that was available had been reared on seagrasses and kelps, giving the meat a unique flavor that emphasized how important the ocean waters were to the area.

The Gallifreyan contingent was so concentrated on the food, from the meats to the various root vegetables and greens, that they did not notice how several people were watching them closely as the night went on. Other guests whispered and murmured amongst themselves, carefully analyzing the Baron Coal-on-the-Hill’s interactions with the strangers from the north. He did not seem to treat the earlessa—the youngest in attendance, making it so that the new Lord Shoreditch was only second-so—as anything other than an adult well beyond her years, and the familiarity with which he glanced at the marchioness… it made tongues wag and memories resurface.

It had been just over twenty years since word first began of an illicit love between an orphaned soldier and his noble paramour on the banks of the River Wyre, yet none thought they would see it rekindled near the River Luye… and in front of a child to be impacted by such an affair no less.

Dinner passed and the chatter was in full-force by the time desserts were being placed upon the tables. Conor skipped his and stood instead, addressing the room from his spot upon a dais.

“Thank you, everyone, for attending my creation ceremony, as well as this feast that my staff has worked tirelessly to serve us,” he began. The hall began to quiet, allowing him to better talk over his guests. “I plan on this being the last societal event I host for a long while as I attempt to bring order to the ledgers and balance to the barony’s coffers. Please understand my position and use this night to drink and make tonight one that will last until my next banquet.”

“Whose seat will you celebrate stealing then?” a voice shouted in the crowd.

“I am not a thief,” Conor said. He furrowed his brow in an attempt to seem firm and stern, yet his youth betrayed him. “What I am is someone who has made a tough decision for the good of his people; if I was to not act when I had, then I would be left with nothing, and no one can turn around something from nothing.”

“Greedy child!”

“Selfish boy!”

“Lying brat!”

“That is enough!” the Baron Coal-on-the-Hill bellowed. He stood from his seat near the dais and slammed his fists on the table, making the young earlessa across from him jump. “Do any of you know how difficult it is to be in his position?! The lad is braver than you lot put together!”

“Says the man who not only stole a title and lands, but continues an improper affair well after both parties have been long wed to other people?”

Since returning from being captive in Cybera over twelve years prior, the range of facial emotions the Baron was able to generate had decidedly dwindled thanks to the torture he had been put through; his skin sagged nearly like a corpse’s and the metal implants tugged at his muscles. This did not mean, however, that he was incapable of showing pure, confounded rage.

“You dare think of me as some upstart?! A letch?! Whomever said that should come and say it to my face, unless you think it beneath you to look a man in the eyes who earned his title by being a prisoner of war instead of the accident of being born! How many of you have been outside our northern borders and came back able to tell the tales?! I am here with some friends, for a friend, and if you cannot fathom that, then you have some much scarier people than me to answer to, a thousand times worse than me.”

A silence fell over the hall, with all sounds of eating stopped. Everyone stared at the Baron; some were intrigued, some terrified, and some knowing there was many amongst them who needed the dressing-down. The Baron lowered his voice, despite the fact it carried all the same.

“Baroness Coal-on-the-Hill and the Marquis and Marchioness of Kasterborous and Gallifrey,” he clarified. “My wife is no pushover, my friend with me tonight is a force to be reckoned with, and her husband… he was not called the Black Spectre for the fun of it, after all.”

With that, the Baron turned on his heel and left the hall, everyone else stunned into silence. Talk quietly resumed after the door slammed behind him, though there were some who found that it was their turn to retire from the festivities. One glance from the young Baron Shoreditch and the Marchioness quickly took her leave, bringing her daughter with her as she chased down the Baron Coal-on-the-Hill to their quarters that had earlier been shown as theirs in the guest wing. She found him sitting at the foot of his bed, palming his eyes in frustration as tears flowed from them.

“Daniel, don’t let them get to you,” she said, rushing over to sit at his side. Putting an arm around his shoulders, she kept him close in a reassuring hug. “They were drunk and out of line—none of them are worth any effort or thought. Isn’t that right, Lena?” The Marchioness glanced towards the door, only to see that her daughter was still there, staring at the two of them with unease. “What’s wrong?”

“I… um…” Lena shrank backwards slightly when her tutor looked up at her; the action broke his heart.

“You’ve never seen that side of me before,” he realized aloud. “I’m sorry you had to see that. You were one of the ones who least deserved it.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been scared of you before,” Lena admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “They shouldn’t’ve acted like that.”

“I shouldn’t’ve acted like that,” he said.

“No, you were completely within your rights,” the Marchioness said. “They were being terrible, and they should have heard that lecture from their own parents a long time ago, about something completely different. You shouldn’t have to remind grown adults of their manners, but sometimes you do, and that is the truth of it.”

“Please don’t be cross, Sir Daniel,” Lena said, almost timidly. “It doesn’t suit you.”

“You’re right; it doesn’t.” He stood and carefully approached Lena, bringing her in for a hug where he kissed the top of her hair protectively. She trembled momentarily, though leaned into it once it was clear that this was her tutor again, not the famed soldier that was such a distant thought he seemed almost legend. “Forgive me, please.”

“Just don’t yell at me like that next time I get poor marks and we’ll be alright,” she replied. He chuckled softly at that, then turning back towards the Marchioness with a frown.

“You two better get to your room before another guest sees you come from here,” he said. “I promise that I’ll be more clear-headed after a night’s rest.”

“I’ll hold you to that, or I’m reporting you to Martha,” the Marchioness warned. She gave him a kiss on the cheek and left with her daughter, not speaking again until they were safe behind the door of the room they shared. “Lena?”

“Yes, Mama…?”

“Learn from this, you hear me?” she commanded. “Do not be afraid, but most of all: do not give those imbeciles power over you. It is more difficult for Sir Daniel, as he is already well into adulthood and set in his ways, but you can still perfect this art young. Those people are why we have our lady’s mask and they should never see you falter. They are beneath you in station and morals, and they know it, and the only way to keep them there is by not falling for their tricks and harsh words. One of your best weapons will be a well-controlled ire, released only when the time is right—remember that.”

Lena nodded and swallowed hard.

“Yes, Mama.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Days later, the Marquis was taking his evening tea in his study whilst catching up on paperwork. His younger daughters and son were there as well, taking care of coursework and practicing their letters, staying quiet for their papa during the peaceful hours before bedtime. It was such a routine night, with the fire crackling in the hearth to ward away the soft rain’s chill, that Lena appearing in the doorway seemed to be a great surprise. Her youngest siblings rejoiced and bounced around her, whilst the twins noticed as their father slipped out into the corridor.

The children all stayed in Lena’s room that night, falling asleep while listening to their sister’s tales of Shoreditch and the unknown people she met there. This allowed the Marchioness to lavish her husband in attention as she took him, making him mutter obscenities in the ceremonial tongue as she barely allowed him rest between bouts of lovemaking well into the night. She cursed the people who spoke ill of her, of her marriage, of their friend, and with every gasp the Marquis made, she felt her frustration melt away as she let the melody of his voice ease her spirit back to where it belonged.

Meanwhile, across the grounds, Daniel unlocked the door to his cottage and entered, barely making a sound. Yes, he was not the Baron Coal-on-the-Hill here, or Lord Pink, or even Sir Daniel, but just a man returning home from a long journey. He left his boots by the door and his cloak on its hook, for they were too wet to wear throughout the house. Up the stairs and into his room; his wife and daughter were curled up under the blankets together, taking advantage of the weather to turn in early. Daniel leaned over the edge of the mattress and kissed his wife’s forehead, waking her gently.

“Look at who we have here,” Martha murmured. She reached up and touched his face, stroking his cheekbone with her thumb. “How was the ceremony? Did you make my apologies to Conor?”

“Our new lord neighbor is well, and understands why I went alone,” he replied. He gingerly took her hand in his and kissed it, his eyes brimmed in sorrow. “I still wish you had been there—Johan as well.”

“Okay, what happened?” she asked. She sat up—careful to not wake their daughter—and locked eyes with her husband. “You rarely want Johan around if you have the opportunity otherwise.”

“I lost my temper multiple times,” he explained. “It will work out in the end, as I now know who to exclude during any talks of trade and whatnot, but in the short-term… be ready to hear rumors of not only Clara and I, but how I don’t deserve to be here.”

Martha groaned in exasperation, pulling Daniel towards her for a kiss. “I wouldn’t let you go with Clara unless I trusted you both.”

“…I know…”

“…and besides, you are good. Not ‘good enough’, but genuinely so and in all the best ways. You deserve all the good things in your life, and if someone thinks otherwise, I will hand them over to the Daleks and laugh as they get torn apart bit by bit.” She kissed him again, lips lingering this time. “Would you like to take this downstairs?”

“I think tomorrow night will do.”

Standing up, Daniel went towards the wardrobe and shed his outer layers, exchanging them for a nightdress before climbing into bed with his wife and daughter. Daniel and Martha held hands as they fell asleep, Oriana nestled cozily between them.

They were far from good; they were great.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

A/N: Ever go out and get some crab or lobster at a really fancy place and feel kinda weird because you’re spewing juices everywhere as you’re dissecting your food by-hand? That’s because in real-life history crustaceans and other shellfish have often been seen as peasant food and meals for the desperate, because who else would go and try to pry open these shells just to get this airy meat that gets cold quick when one can have normal land-based meat instead. Since I try to put some of actual [past and present] practices/ideals into the series, the fact that the feast at Shores’ Watch has pre-shelled crustaceans means that the servants were the ones who went through all the gross work while the guests reaped the benefits, making it a much “nobler” dish for all those who normally would view it as beneath them. (...and let’s not even get into cultures that viewed normal fishing of actual fish as a lowly occupation/activity in general.)

Oh, and just a reminder--since it has been ages since I’ve last laid this out--that in this continuity, Danny and Clara have successfully made the transition to Better As Friends and neither of their spouses care about their shared past. I am personally for Danny/Clara, Twelve/Clara, and Twelve/Clara/Danny with Clara being the sleeping barrier between her two at-odds boyfriends, but in SASBB, we are firmly in a Twelve/Clara and Danny/Martha continuity. Let’s be real: Danny deserved better than what he got in canon. Martha deserved something that made more sense than what she got in canon. Twelve and Clara deserved more than the thirty seconds of green screen splicing that they got in canon. Although he doesn’t come into play here whatsoever, God bless Mickey, ‘cause he deserved way better than what canon dealt him and he also deserves an ending that makes more sense than “hurr pair the spares skin tone edition” (as does Martha, per my rage over her ending (and her being with Danny here is more of a “I thought this out” than anything (see ch.6′s notes))).

Heaven help me if I ever get into a face-to-face shipping argument. I don’t mask my displeasure well.

[thran-duils]

Responsibility

TITLE: Responsibility (Rise For Your King Part 5) PAIRING: Reader/AU King!Castiel SUMMARY:  The reader was betrothed to the prince but when a neighboring king decides to dole out justice to your future father in low, he destroys the royal family, leaving you with the two youngest princesses. The mage king takes an immediate liking to you, letting you live. What will you do with this opportunity? WORDS: 3,261

PART 4 || Part 6 || MASTERPOST  || Fanfic masterpost

“No! No one must know!” Castiel barked at the room.

There were a dozen men in the room, his most trusted soldiers and advisers. The first day trying to locate wherever Y/N, Aideen, Reyvin, and the twins had gone off to had been unsuccessful. And Castiel was livid. Especially when one of his men suggested sending out a notice to the kingdom, putting a price on finding them.

“But… sir…” Balthazar started from beside him. Despite the icy glare Castiel sent in his direction, Balthazar kept on. “The servants have noticed the absence of them.”

Castiel snarled, “And?”

“You cannot expect word to not get out indefinitely.”

Balthazar was just being honest and the sentiment seemed to resonate around the room, the others agreeing with him silently.

Castiel’s voice was menacing, “Which is why we need to find them sooner than later. Before it gets out of the castle grounds! Is that so hard to follow?”

Shaking his head, Balthazar responded quickly, “No, your majesty.”

Shouting now, Castiel addressed them furiously, “Then I want some fucking results and I want them now!”

The room was silent as everyone avoided making eye contact with Castiel. Castiel’s chest heaved and he ordered in a quieter tone, “So, send some of the soldiers out today! Send them further out and they can report back in the morning with any findings – and you better hope there are some – and we can move on from there!”

There was a chorus of acknowledgement before Castiel turned on his heel, storming towards the door. All he wanted was a drink to calm his nerves.

<> <> <>

The couple, Adair and Grianne, that was to intercept the group of you were shocked to say the least upon your arrival. But, quickly, they began making accommodations. They had a high respect for Reyvin and were gratuitous to you and Aideen. The twins were apprehensive as usual around strangers, which was something you were grateful about their personalities, but eventually warmed up enough to take treats from the woman.

As soon as you had arrived, Grianne had presented you with a peasant dress and you took it without complaint. You knew it was worth it. You had a hunch that she was surprised you had done so compliantly, probably expecting an air of arrogance from you. Hopefully you were pleasantly surprising to her.

She had seemed taken with Aideen as well as the twins and friendly towards you.

The first day had been stressful, you were still on high alert as was everyone else. Granted, you would all have to be forever considering someone could recognize you at any time. And considering, Castiel was immortal, he wasn’t going to go away any time soon. You had relayed your reservations about putting this couple in trouble but they had waved off your worry. They were willing to risk it – to die, even Adair had said – for the lineage of their king. King Orin and his fathers before him had been just rulers and held high respect.

The group of you were only planning on staying at the farm until Reyvin could locate another place further along, perhaps into the next kingdom for you all to relocate at.

You thought moving to the next kingdom may be a wrong move considering any newcomers would draw attention and unwanted questions. Reyvin, in the end, had agreed with your assessment and settled on finding somewhere within this kingdom. It posed more of a risk of someone being curious about the girls but it was still safer.

During the night, you had trouble sleeping. But were grateful when you woke up to sunshine and fresh air the next morning.

Part of you regretted leaving. You had been infatuated with Castiel. You would have to try to figure out how to reconcile that part with yourself.

<> <> <>

Castiel pulled out of Dara, the maid he had been using as of late, his body coated in a sheen of sweat. He moved away from her backside, stuffing himself back into his pants and lacing them up.

He needed to relieve some stress and this seemed the quickest way to do so. And the least bloody. As much as he would enjoy being in a battle. It was all the more thrilling to do that, especially compared to the annoyance he was about to face whenever Dara felt the need to talk after coitus.

“She seems extremely ungrateful. Lady Y/N, I mean,” Dara commented airily as she slipped her underdress back on. Castiel rolled his eyes and shot an annoyed look at her back. Dara didn’t feel tension in the room as she pulled her dress over her head, adjusting it over her underwear. “You granted her an extremely exceptional opportunity by allowing her to continue to live here under the roof. And furthermore, still granting her her title.” Castiel was growing agitated with each word that came out of Dara’s mouth. He leaned against the desk, burning a hole in the back of her head with his eyes. Dara still oblivious continued her bloated, self-serving tirade, “If I was her, I would not have run away, your majesty.”

“Well, you’re not her and you’re never going to be, are you?” Castiel responded, an edge of nastiness to his tone. Dara finally looked at him, seeing the expression on his face. She closed her mouth, getting it that he was displeased.

Dara tried, “I was merely –”

She was cut off, “I know what you were trying to do, Dara. And it’s not cute.” Dara looked stunned at Castiel’s assertion. He faced her fully, his eyebrow cocked. “Y/N is a Lady and your future queen. You would do well to remember that and where your place is. Do not mistake yourself for anything higher than you are. It’s a fatal flaw many people have. Just because you’re getting a little attention doesn’t mean a damn thing.”

Dara was at loss for words and Castiel’s eyes ran over her once before he dismissed her, “I’m sure there are chores you need to be doing.”

Still stunned into shame and embarrassment, Dara forced herself to hold her head high and stated, “Yes, your majesty. Of course.” She left the room as quickly as she could but her reddened cheeks were most certainly not missed by Castiel.

Why must he be surrounded by people who didn’t uphold their status? It was growing increasingly frustrating.

There was a sharp knock at his door and he sighed. It was the middle of the night.

“Come in!” Dean appeared in the doorway before closing the door behind him. “What is it at this hour?”

“Found something, I believe.”

This caught Castiel’s attention. It had been a few days and he was growing anxious with each passing day. Not only for the secrecy but also the safety of Y/N.

“What?” he demanded. Dean walked forward, holding out a piece of paper. Castiel took it from him quickly, running his eyes over it. His eyes met Dean’s again and his face broke out into a grin of triumph.

Dean was smirking as well and commented, “Maybe Sir Reyvin should have thought about old text books and secret notes. It would have probably saved him some trouble. Now, they might not have gone there but I would bet it would be somewhere they could get to quickly and with assurance they would be accepted well.”

“Are you well rested?”

“Are you, my lord?” Dean responded.

“I do not require as much sleep as the rest of you. You know that. I just enjoy doing it,” Castiel told him, moving towards the door. Dean followed his movement and Castiel informed him, “I am ready to leave as soon as possible. It should be about half a days ride considering the ferry gets us across the river promptly.”

He had butterflies in his stomach, raving at finding good news and more than likely, the location of Y/N.

<> <> <>

“Oh, why you little –” you started, your voice shrill. Oriana had taken a handful of the berries from your basket and shoved them into her mouth before you could stop her. Gwyinth reached to do the same thing but you swooped the basket up.

“But Ori got berries!” Gwyinth cried out in protest, immediately on the verge of tears.

The three of you were in the morning sun, a bit into the woods behind the farmhouse picking berries for breakfast. The girls had been thrilled to go down the little path that led to an opening where there were bushes of berries.

“She stole them!” you informed her. Oriana instantly looked ashamed and you felt a ping of satisfaction. They needed to learn to be patient. You placed the basket up hanging off a branch where they could reach it. Gwyinth watched it sadly, still hung up on the fact her sister had gotten something she hadn’t.

Oriana ducked her head, sniffling. The satisfaction you had felt vanished. You didn’t mean for her to feel that bad about it. It was just berries. It was supposed to just be a small lesson. You tried to reconcile with her by crouching down in front of her, not caring that your dress was on the dirt. You were going to do laundry later with Grianne anyway.

“Oh, Oriana. You do not need to feel so rotten about it. It was just not a very nice thing to do. There was no real harm done.”

Sneaking a peek at you, Oriana wanted to see if you were serious before averting her eyes again. Sighing, this was going to have to get dirty. Something you knew that both of the twins loved and were always held back from doing. You suddenly swooped Oriana to you, tickling her. The somberness was gone in a second, the silence broken by a shriek of glee. She fell to the dirt, laughing as you continued tickling her.

“Hey!” Gwyinth exclaimed, once again annoyed at being left out.

You let her have it to and the three of you were in the dirt, laughing up a storm.

A shadow fell over the three of you and you looked up, laughing still, expecting Reyvin coming to investigate why the berries were not back over to the house. He was fond of them and he was also fond of having his breakfast promptly in the morning.

It wasn’t Reyvin. Castiel was towering over you, his hand rested on the top of his sword’s hilt. He looked displeased, taking in your muddy, simple dress and tousled hair, as well as the twins looking grimy.

Your blood ran cold and you pulled the girls closer to you instinctively, the laughter cut off. How had he found you? Where was Aideen? Where was Reyvin?

His eyes ran over you slowly. The girls, seemingly knowing the gravity of the situation, had gone quiet, huddling into you.

“So. This is what you… ran away for?” You said nothing in response, not being able to find your voice. He looked irate and disappointed in you, which made you feel a wave of shame for whatever reason. His feelings and opinion of you still had an impact on you. “To live in squalor?”

“They live just fine.” You found your voice again. “Food on the table and shelter is enough.”

Something flashed across Castiel’s face and he growled, “I am done with foolishness, Y/N. You have a kingdom to run. I have a kingdom to run. We have a kingdom to run. I laid out the parameters of what was going to happen and you agreed but then backed out on them without any warning. That’s not how you deal with things.”

His eyes fell on the girls and he murmured, “So much more trouble than they are worth at this time.”

Something about his tone set you on edge, and your fingers dug into the girls. They sensed your apprehension and whimpered. It was so like children to follow whatever external stimuli closest and most familiar. They were so young and their surroundings were still molding them.

The next two words he ordered his men stopped your heart.

“Take them.”

Forget the look on his face that made it look like it was difficult for him to have it come to this. You didn’t care about his feelings anymore.

You only had seconds to react before the soldiers came for Gwyinth and Oriana. “No!” you choked. This time it came out as a yell, “Please!” Your fingers grasped at them as they were yanked from you by the soldiers, who were obviously stronger than you physically. The girls cried out, reaching back for you. Their small frames were gulfed by the grown arms that swooped them.

They were only three.

“Y/N!” Oriana cried.

Gwyinth bit at one of the soldier’s arms and they shouted, succumbing her again.

You made to run after them but strong arms took you, holding you back. You recognized the cologne and he held you tight. As he had insinuated he meant to from the moment he laid eyes on you.

“I cannot run a kingdom with my queen running rogue and undermining me at every turn!” Castiel husked in your ear, pulling you close to him. His breath was hot on your neck. You struggled against him but he was stronger. You were no match for a mage. “You have so much potential, Y/N. I haven’t seen such potential in decades! And I have all the power and opportunity to let you flourish. You could be great. All you have to do is let me help you.”

What you were hearing from him was a blur. All you were concerned about was your girls. They had been drug to a carriage and placed inside, but their cries still reached your ears.

“No!” you cried, trying to yank away again.

Castiel hatched down harder this time, no doubt digging into his magic and you felt weak.

“Those girls will be safe. They will be raised in complete splendor. Showered with luxury for their every need.” He paused before adding, “Just not with you.” A sob caught in your throat. You had left the castle for them. All the decisions you had made in the last few weeks had been for them.  “Just behave for me, Y/N. Help me succeed. Do as I say. And I will be your slave. I will do whatever you ask.” You felt him inhale deeply, his nose brushing your cheek. Any other time, this would have set you on fire, threatening to fall to your knees for him but holding back for the sake of your dignity. Now, it just infuriated you.

Exasperated, you cried out, “Let me go!”

Castiel did the exact opposite, again grasping down tighter on you. “If you are good, you will see those girls again!” Castiel told you in a rough voice. “It’s only for a few months until we can get things under control. I just need you to focus!”

He finally let you go and you whipped around immediately, fury driving you. Your anger flared and you pointed at him threateningly and his jaw set under this rude gesture. Spitting fire, you accused him, “You’re using me!”

Castiel’s dipped his head, looking you dead in the eyes. “I don’t use things I have intention of keeping, Y/N. And what I am doing is for your own benefit. You will be fine without them for a few months. They will be fine without you for a few months. I promise they will come back to you. I would never take them from you permanently. I know they mean a great deal to you and I will respect that. But for now, this needs to happen. And you need to follow my lead and let us grow.” There was a pause before he said, his expression softening ever so slowly, “I….I thought you felt something. Maybe I was wrong.”

Swallowing sharply, you stared back at him. You were still furious with him, that was sure. You wanted to punch him in his perfectly sculpted face, drawing blood maybe. But, he was playing you like a fiddle. He knew of your feelings, just as you knew of his. It was a weakness you had developed in such a short amount of time.

“Which would sadden me,” Castiel finished, watching you intently.

You choked out finally, “Let me say goodbye.”

“No,” Castiel told you and your fists balled up again, tears welling up in your eyes. “They’ve already gone.”

“Aideen?”

“She is alright. She went with the girls.” Your heart sank at this. Your closest ally was to be taken from you too?

“Where is Reyvin?”

“Alive but subdued. I will give him a proper trial.”

Your mouth was dry as you asked, “For?” You couldn’t stand it if Reyvin died because of you. He had done a lot and risked so much to try to get you and the twins to safety.

“Kidnapping being one of the largest offenses,” Castiel replied calmly.

Shaking your head, you stammered, “Don’t hurt him. Or the farmers. Please.”

Castiel studied you, seeing your resolve starting to waver, and returned, “I will consider your request if you come back with me. Now. Without a scene.”

He was accusing you of causing a scene?

“I…”

His lips curled slightly and it didn’t go unnoticed by you. You were testing his patience. “By the order of your king, you are to come back to the castle, Lady Y/N. Now, please, if you would like me to consider your request, like I offered, I would suggest doing as I ordered.”

A shudder left your mouth, trying to hold back your emotions before you forced yourself to nod. Castiel relaxed before snapping his fingers at his men. He turned walking back towards the trail towards the farm house.

You were followed closely by three of his men and upon exiting the trail, found his horse waiting. Castiel mounted the giant horse and stated, “Y/N, put that cloak on.”

What cloak you almost asked before noticing one of his men – Samuel – was holding a black cloak out to you. Castiel no doubt did not want you going back completely exposed in peasant wear and dirt. Had to keep up appearances at least a little. You took the cloak reluctantly and tied it around your shoulders, pulling the hood up to rest on your head. When you looked up at him again, he was looking at you in return expectantly, holding out his hand. Sighing quietly, you took his hand, and were hoisted onto the horse by a mixture of him and one of his men. You were placed sideways and internally scowled. You were more than capable riding normally but again… the appearances of a lady. A future queen.

“Are you going to hold on or do you plan to fall off the moment we happen to hit a bump?” Castiel asked you over his shoulder, his tone tight.

You shook a little as your arms wrapped around his waist. You were quickly reminded of how good he smelled and his body felt toned underneath his layers. You had not been in this close of proximity to him since the two of you had shared that kiss merely days ago.

“That’s better,” he stated, sounding as if he was complimenting you for your obedience. With a click of his tongue, and a snap of the reins, the horse took off.

~~~

CASTIEL TAGS: @prince-halfblood, @splendidcas, @klaineaholic, @letsthedogpackandthecats, @alexastacio, @winchesterforever12 @seirensou  @tacos-and-trenchcoats @the-amaranthine @intheir-dreams @study-me-misha @marisayouass @demonicguardianangel @afanofmanystuffs @holyheadharpies-quidditch-blog @misscherryberry @too-lazy-for-this-world@dragonchantant @morbid-apricots

[mytwisteddaheadcanon]

Name Meanings Origins/Awakening

Elissa - In Greek from the Hebrew Elisheba, meaning either oath of God, or God is satisfaction

Alistair - Scottish Gaelic from the Greek meaning defender of man

Morrigan - Derived from Irish Mór Ríoghain meaning “great queen”. In Irish myth she was a goddess of war and death who often took the form of a crow.

Leliana - English variant of the name Liliana; Spanish variant of the name Eliana. Meaning Lily flower; My God is an oath (English); The sun (Spanish)

Wynne- In Gaelic wind

Connor - In Irish Strong willed or wise 'Hound-lover.’ Also from the Irish 'Coachuhhar’, meaning high desire

Anora - In Hebrew grace

Isolde - In Welsh beautiful. fair.

Anders - In Greek the name Ander means “man, warrior; lion man”

Marjolaine - in French for Marjoram a minty herb. Marjolaine is also a type of cake that combines almond and hazelnut meringue layers with chocolate buttercream.

Nathaniel - derived from the Greek form of the Hebrew (Netan'el), meaning "God has given".

Velanna – Variation of Vel Anna of Indian origin and generally means Lord Murugan. Lord Murugan is the Hindu God of War

Justice - In Latin just; upright; righteous. Form of New Testament Biblical name Justus.

Eamon - In Irish guardian.

Mhairi -Scottish female given name, ultimately derived from the name Mary

Wade - In English ford (as in river crossing); 'Advancer'

Herren - German: byname for someone in the service of a lord and his family, from a genitive plural form of Middle High German her 'nobleman', 'lord'

Sigrun - Derived from the Old Norse elements sigr "victory" and rún "secret". This was the name of a Valkyrie in Norse legend.

Rendon - Spanish (Rendón): unexplained; possibly connected with the adverb (de) rendón 'bold', 'daring', old variant of Spanish rondón

Bryce - In Celtic swift

Eleanor - Greek for "bright, shining one." English version of the Provençal name Alienor.

Fergus - derives from the Proto-Celtic elements *wiros ("man") and *gustus ("vigour", "force", or "choice").

Oren - It is of Hebrew, Irish and Gaelic origin, and the meaning of Oren is "pine tree; fair, pale"

Oriana - In Latin to rise; sunrise; dawn; golden.

Duncan- Anglicized form of the Gaelic name Donnchadh meaning "brown warrior", derived from Gaelic donn "brown" and cath "warrior".

[randomlygeneratedstring]

10 Characters, 10 fandoms

I got tagged by @daisytje to participate in the 10 Characters, 10 Fandoms, thank you!

As you will notice, I actually chose 10 characters, but from 9 fandoms. Harry Potter is here twice, because this fandom was the first one I was part of in online world and even now it is very important to me.

I tag: @lepetitchoucommie​ @vorchagirl​ @slothquisitor​ and anybody who wants to participate.

So, without further ado, and in no particular order, here we go.

1. Motoko Kusanagi (Ghost in the Shell) At first, I envied her the full cyborg body. And her hair :) She was one of the main reasons I choose computer science as my major, I wanted to be as smart as her. As independent as her. Later, when watching GITS Standalone Complex, I was more and more aware of all the consequences of her life in cybernetic body. How would she cope with the immutability of it? No going grey, no muscle and mind degeneration. The danger of body switch. Is immortality a gift or a curse? Also, in her world, where everything is online or a computer of some sort, how does one stay alone? Why, of course. I wear a watch.

2. Eowyn (Lord of the Rings) I have read the trilogy ... five times by now? And all the books from Middle Earth as well, though not so many times. The movies are not my cup of tea, but I do not hate them. Anyway, back to Eowyn. When I have read the books for the first time, I thought her some creepy stalking bitch, who would in the end just "settle" for Faramir. Mind you, I was 15 when I read them for the first time. Fast forward nearly 20 years (uhm), I think she is one of the bravest characters in the books. She cared for King Theoden, braved Grima Wormtongue's insults and in the end defeated Nazghul. Also realized her love for Aragorn was a young-girl's crush and had enough self-reflection to let it go and in the end live happily with Faramir.

3. Miranda Lawson (Mass Effect) Choosing one character from ME was a tough one, because the trilogy is packed with awesome characters and for all the years I have been playing (and reading about) ME[1..3], I am still learning new things about them. Sorry, got sidetracked again. Miranda. I picked her, because for my femShep, she was the first person Shepard could trust in ME2. She was told to make the impossible happen by resurrecting Shepard. No pressure, right? Both Shepard and Miranda know failure is not really an option for them. Both have learned that being on top is a very lonely place to be. She has not parents, her father is a madman. Last but not least, Miranda has an identical twin, like me, and I have always encouraged her to get her to know Oriana, because of the great bond twins share.

4. Leia (Star Wars) Growing up, she was one of my heroes. Brave and smartass, she defended the galaxy she believed in.  

5. Draco Malfoy (Harry Potter) One of the most complicated characters. In the books, we see him trying to find his place in the world, though he is no saint and his methods are questionable at best. He tried to so much to be like his father (even taking the Mark), only to find out it was all a lie and the bright future he was promised as pure blood wizard is in reality just racist bullshit. He is smart, doing all he can, and hopes for a quiet life, but in the end ending widowed.

6. Claire Underwood (House of Cards) I love two things about her: her ruthlessness and her marriage. Let me elaborate. Her marriage is more like a contract. She and Francis are partners, working together towards (a set of) goal/s. But she is not simply following his lead. She fights to be treated as an equal, to have her own goals fulfilled. And she learns that she has to be ruthless to achieve them, because (more or less) everybody is a liar in politics.

7. Spock (Star Trek) Yes, I love logic. I use logic in every part of my life, even to a fault. Spock's life was based on logic, trying to hide his emotions, even though it must have been painful to watch or his (human) mother. But in the end, he finds love and friendship and realizes he not just Vulkan or Human, he is simply Spock.

8. Cullen Rutherford (Dragon Age) Someone on tumblr (I cannot find the post now, so I am unable to cite, sorry! Anyone has the link?) argued that Cullen is aspie. I love this and completely agree with it. I admire his devotion to the Inquisition and his love to Inquisitor, his bravery to make hard choices and live with the consequences. He was able to learn from his hard past (Kinloch, Gallows) and own his mistakes. Now, he is loyal and dedicated, following, but not blindly. On a personal note, I admire his fight with lyrium addiction.

9. Lady Jessica (Dune) She was the embodiment of everything I wanted in a mother, but did not have. I wanted her Bene Gesserit training and her wisdom. She was proud of her kids, and encouraged them, but did not shield them from the outside world.

10. Hermione Granger (Harry Potter) I love you, Hermione, but I do not get it ... why did you end up with Ron of all people? How about Draco, hmm? He would be your intellectual equal and your relationship would show the haters they were wrong about him. Anyway, you can tell I am big dramione fan. But back to Hermione herself. Younger me (like younger teens), wanted to be like her. If you work/study your ass off, dear Strings, you would be appreciated and would find friends. Heh. Sorry, hun, it does not work that way. But without Hermione, I would not even try.

Oh, this got rather long. If you read it all, you have my respect and all my coffee. No, wait, not all of it. But one coffee with muffin will do :)

[littlebittyhollowbugs]

Mantis lords headcanons~

First things first, the mantis lords names! We have..

Oriana (eldest)

Siara (eldest middle)

Biana (youngest middle)

Timono (youngest)

And additionally~

Tulian (Traitors child)

Mia (Traitor Lord's wife)

The mantis lords~

The sisters are triplets all a few years older than their brother.

Oriana is the eldest, the leader of the four. She is practical and stern, very composed and calculating. She is the face of the mantis lord council and tribe.

Siara is a bit more relaxed than.. all of her siblings. Probably the most open-minded and least stubborn. She is usually the one sent beyond the tribe to deal with outside affairs.

Biana is quiet and a bit secretive. More of a follower than the others. She enjoys working on traps, weapons, and leads the technological advancements within the tribe.

Timono was of lower rank than the other Lord's. (To gain higher rank one must prove to be as strong of a warrior as the elder Lord's. Something he, despite years of effort, had never proven.) Still Timono was a fierce warrior, who wanted more than anything to finally grant his tribe freedom from Hallownest.

(In case anyone missed this bit of lore- The pale king made a deal with the tribe that they must keep the spiders of Deepnest from gaining access into his kingdom and in turn allowed them to keep all their territory. The mantis lords all agreed though they still begrudged Hallownest and it's rulers. None more so than the eventual Traitor lord.) He wanted to put a permanent end to the war with Deepnest and their contract with Hallownest.

It was always the tribes intent to expand their territory into the West, And after the queen took all of the territory that would become queen's garden, while the mantises fought endlessly to keep the small area of land they had, Lord Timono became especially intent on standing against Hallownest.

Timono was angry, optimistic, and overzealous. He genuinely wanted what was best for his people, And would go to any lengths to achieve that. His more pessimistic and calculating sisters, while in agreement with his motivations, did not agree with his plans for action.

They knew they did not stand a chance taking up arms against Hallownest. He was angry with them, believing them to be cowards. They would very often butt heads over this, and Timono was of course always outnumbered by his sisters so his plans were never put into action.

That is until he began a rebellion against them. Another important aspect of his character, is that he was an excellent leader and motivator. He was the most extroverted of the four by far, incredibly passionate and optimistic as I've said, and after ascending to the rank of lord, he easily gained the favor of a large portion of the tribe.

Traitor Lord's family~

He was married to a war leader, named Mia. Mia had spent almost all her life fighting and dreamt of a peaceful era for the tribe. The two of them bonded over their dreams and ideals.

His wife died shortly after their child was born. (She died in battle against Deepnest.)

Tulian, the name that we've given the traitor's child, was similar to both parents, an idealist who longed for a better future, though much more gentle and patient than her father, And of course eventually becoming much more sympathetic toward Hallownest. Coming to believe that they should find a more peaceful end to the conflict between the lands. Timono loved his child more than anything, and was extremely protective of her, Though her sympathy toward Hallownest did create a rift between them. (The more complex the parent-child relationship, the more obsessed we become, or so go the written legends)

The rebellion and the infection~

Now.. exactly how this plays out in our story, may not be exactly what was implied in game and I acknowledge that. The Hunter's notes about the traitor lord seem to imply that he took in the infection and was then banished from the tribe. But in the backstory we've written it happens the other way around. (Our excuse is that the hunter probably isn't aware of the exact details of the mantis tribes affairs haha)

Anyway this made more sense to our characters,

Basically eventually after attempting for years to get his sisters to agree to expanding their territory into the garden, Timono finally decided to take matters into his own hands and lead a rebellion against his sisters. (He was hopeful that if the tribe would strike during the spread of the infection when their enemy was most vulnerable, they would be able to conquer. his sisters did not agree, civil conflict ensues) He had many followers and the conflict was devastating to the tribe.

He and his followers were defeated and driven from the village. They were branded traitors, and were left to fight for the garden without any support.

Now Tulian wanted to try and negotiate a peaceful resolution with the Queen. This attempt did not end well. Upon being refused his demands the traitor lord lead an attack against the queen, and in the conflict Tulian was killed.

The traitor lord and his warriors retreated into the lower garden, now more devasted and desperate than ever before.

The traitor lord had heard much about the infection over the years. He knew that it was dangerous, but that it granted any bug greater strength, At the cost of their minds. He believed that, as mantises (higher minded beings) that the infection would not be as devastating to their minds as to the common bug. That they would be able to attain some control, And it would be worth it to obtain that strength.

He was also incredibly desperate, and grieving the loss of the last of his family. He believed there was no other option. They were surrounded by enemies on all sides, Hallownest, Deepnest, even their own tribe. So he lead all of his followers in taking in the infection to gain the power of the radiance.

And from there on things are pretty self explanatory..

The future of the mantis tribe~

In our new hallownest happy ending au, the lands of hallownest are all brought together in rebuilding the kingdom and the mantis tribe does get to expand. There are eventually three main villages. The capitol village in the fungal waste, The battleground village in what was once north eastern deepest, And the garden village in what was once northern Queen's garden. As well as roadways between them. Each village is ruled by one of the mantis lords.

A little extra stuff about the whole mantis family and their relationships with each other~

The sisters are all incredibly close, and have been since birth. Siara and Biana are especially in sync with one another in most areas.

They did love their brother, though there has always been some distance between them and him. He looked up to them greatly in his youth and wanted more than anything to be treated equally with them. Something, he felt, never came to be. (The more dramatic the sibling relationship the more obsessed we become, or so go the written legends)

He was closest with Biana out of the three. But her eagerness to please her sisters stood between her siding with him on most matters.

The Lords also all deeply cared for Tulian. Timono was protective, but his sisters were all equally protective aunts. This made the banishment of the traitors all the more devastating to them.

They held much respect for the sister they gained through their brother's marriage as well. A most honorable defender of the tribe, who had been involved in many battles.

Timono loved his wife dearly of course. She was as inspiring to him as he was to her. (The more in love the married couple are with each other, the more obsessed we become, or so go th-)

And Tulian did not get much of chance to know her mother, but was told very many inspiring tales.

This is just the basics and I'll probably add more to it later. We have lots of smaller headcanons about this family as well.

[cressidagrey]

I breathe flames each time I talk - Chapter 5

Summary:

The story of how Oriana Fireborn Belmont finally meets her mate's family.

Also the story of how Rhysand, The High Lord of the Night Court, finally recognises that by the cauldron, there is no fury like a female scorned.

Azriel would just like everybody to get along.

Warnings:

Rhys Bashing, Serious Injury

Notes:

I put a lot of world building into this. If you don't recognise it from canon, I probably invented. Or I forgot that canon existed.

(thanks to @firefly-graphics for the super pretty dividers!)

“Stop moping.”

“Excuse me,” Rhys garbled out, looking up from where he had been staring at the same roll of parchment for at least an hour. 

He had not been moping. He had been…regretting his life choices that had brought him to that moment. 

Feyre looked less than amused, though her face had softened. She didn’t look utterly furious with him, which was a step up from Morrigan, who had nearly taken a bite out of him. 

Granted, he probably deserved that. He also deserved the cold indifference that Amren had shown or the fact that Feyre had been ignoring him…that Cassian was fucking furious with him and that Azriel hated him. 

“Stop moping around,” Feyre repeated herself. “You big Illyrian Baby,” she added with a small quirk on her lips. That was something at least.”

“My brother hates me,” Rhys gave back, his voice quiet. 

Azriel hated him. He had only tried to do the right thing and still, he had…only messed it up even further. It shouldn’t even surprise him anymore. 

“He loves you,” Feyre disagreed. “But Rhys, you really didn’t make that easy on either of them,” his mate said pointedly, coming to sit on his lap. It was a piece of peace that he didn’t really deserve right now. Not really. Not like that. 

“Feyre Darling…” he started but Feyre silenced him with one look. 

“You hurt Azriel really badly by saying things to him that were not at all thought out,” she told him pointedly. “You didn’t take his feelings seriously and you also took a choice away from him and away from Elain. And worst of all…you never even apologised for it, because you didn’t even think you were in the wrong, Rhys.” 

He didn’t think he was. 

“You never even tried to fix it,” Feyre said the worst thing of it all. 

He didn’t. Not really. 

“I tried to get him angry. I figured that would help,” he admitted. “It used to.” 

“When you were children?” Feyre asked. He nodded. 

“Sometimes he got so angry and didn’t talk, the only way to get him to talk was to badger him long enough that he threw the first punch,” Rhys admitted quietly. “And then keep at it until he was absolutely exhausted…sometimes then, he started talking.”

“Well, that worked for a child. You haven’t been that in 500 years,” Feyre said drily. “It’s an abscess. And you have let that wound fester under the surface for nearly three years, Rhys.”

“So what am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to fix it, when Cassian told me to keep away from him and from Azriel…and when Azriel’s mate is out for blood.”

“Well, for an abscess you would typically need to lance it,” Feyre said drily. “You know, poke a needle in it…let all the pus drain out.”

This just sounded horrible.”

“Give it a little time,” Feyre said finally. “And about that mate of his…Oriana Fireborn,” she said with some amusement. “So what happened to your favourite jacket?” Feyre teased him and he sighed. 

“You don’t want to know,” he told her and Feyre just grinned at him. 

“Don’t I?” she teased him. “How bad could it be, Rhys?” 

Bad. 

“I was young and stupid,” he finally said with a sigh. “And I didn’t listen to Amren…And I got it in my head that…Oriana’s sister would make a good bride,” he admitted with a grimace. 

Enya. The Healer. Not Titania, the heiress, but the middle sister. Beautiful, Educated, Magically Powerful…she had ticked all the boxes he had once upon a time had for the Lady of the Night Court. 

“Shut up,” Feyre said and started laughing, much to his bemusement. “You flirted with her sister and she wasn’t having it, was she?” she asked and Rhys sighed. 

“I was turned down flat,” he complained and Feyre just continued to giggle.

“So what did you do?” she asked, trying to keep her laughing under control and he scowled. 

“Well, I figured that she was going to fall for my charms,” he explained, trying to hold onto the shreds of his dignity.

“Let me guess, she didn’t?” Feyre asked and he just sighed. 

“She definitely didn’t,” he said with a sigh. “So I, in my incredible wisdom thought that…well. If the middle sister wasn’t an option…maybe the youngest could be,” he recounted with a grimace. 

If Enya had turned him down flat, Oriana Fireborn had been worse. 

“Her response to my flirting was to put my favourite jacket on fire in the middle of dinner. And when that was done, she started on my trousers.”

Feyre was laughing so hard that she had started to cry, holding onto his shoulder. 

At least somebody was finding the whole episode entertaining. 

Amren definitely hadn’t thought it was funny, especially because Adara hadn’t been very amused by her two youngest daughter’s antics.

Or his for that matter. 

“Well, I mean, at least you got to keep your hair,” Feyre finally said. “Cassian wasn’t that lucky.”

Rhys thought with a grimace at Cassian's hair that he had finally shorn off because that was the only way to deal with the uneven singed edges. A hand came up to self-consciously touch his raven-black waves. 

“Though maybe don’t tell Azriel that you tried to make his mate your wife,” Feyre added. “I don’t think he is gonna like that very much.”

Yeah, he also doubted that.

“Just let the first wave of anger subside. And then start with an apology.”

That seemed reasonable. 

The problem was only that Rhysand wasn't always reasonable. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Azriel listened. 

Mostly at least. With the help of the shadows and lots of potions…and soft kisses, with her crawling into his lap so that he wasn’t going to strain any muscles…she got him to stay in the bed for the next day. 

She had straddled him again after breakfast, letting his hands gently touch her waist, brush against her ribs that were still twinging with every second movement and was kissing him like they had all the time in the world. And maybe they had. Maybe they did have all the time in the world. 

For a moment at least it felt like that, with soft kisses being pressed to her face, being peppered against her skin, her hands buried in his hair. 

She would have liked to continue down that road, if she didn’t feel her ward ping with something. 

She had reworked her warning net, adding bits and pieces and fixing the burnt-out stones. 

And currently, it was telling her that there was somebody that that had never been there before. 

“Somebody is there,” she told Azriel.”

“Cassian and Nesta,” he answered, immediately, obviously having had a shadow on the lookout. “He’s a horrible mother hen,” he told her with a sigh as she moved off his lap with a laugh. 

“I don’t know, it’s cute that he checks on you every day,” Oriana disagreed. “He loves you.”

“He does,” Azriel agreed softly. 

“I’ll let them in. I don’t think Cassian is ready to lose any more hair,” she quipped as she gained her feet, hearing Azriel chuckle lightly as she left the house and walked towards the ward boundary. 

There was Cassian, waiting, behind him a female, tall, light brown hair braided into a cron on her head. And Oriana smiled softly as she recognised her and her own handiwork in the pins that kept the braids in place. 

“Good Morning,” she greeted them, holding out a hand for Cassian. 

“Good Morning,” Cassian responded, clasping her hand in his, surprised as she pulled him towards her and through the ward. 

“Did you change it?” he wondered. She just shrugged, before she offered her hand to his companion. “Oriana.” She introduced herself. 

“Nesta.” There was recognition in these silver eyes as she stepped through the ward, shivering slightly. 

“I never…felt anything like that,” Nesta admitted. 

Cassian’s mate. Azriel had told her about her. But even if he hadn’t, she would remember the young woman from somewhere else. Still, that didn’t matter right now. 

“That’s good because I invented it yesterday,” she quipped drily. “Thank the cauldron, you are here, I am running out of ways to keep Azriel busy.” She turned towards Cassian. 

“I am surprised you have managed to keep him in one place this young,” Cassian admitted drily. 

“I am quite creative at making threats,” she said drily, making Cassian laugh. 

She turned to the kitchen, leaving Nesta and Cassian to say hello to Azriel but she wasn’t surprised at all as she turned towards the meatballs she was making that Nesta had come back into the kitchen, hesitantly standing at the edge. 

“I remember you,” she said quietly and Oriana smiled softly. 

“I remember you too,” she agreed. From a few years ago and a night in a music hall. She had pissed off a guy that was going to take advantage of a very drunk Nesta and had then delivered her to her home because Oriana could never quite manage to leave good enough alone. 

“I wasn’t sure if it was really you. The name was the same but…” Nesta trailed off. “Thank you,” she thanked her. “For that night.” 

“Did it get better?” she asked Nesta, lifting up her gaze to look into her grey eyes. 

“Yes. Some,” she admitted. “He helps.” A sharp nod in the direction of her bedroom, where Oriana could see Azriel and Cassian talking in low tones. If she concentrated, she would be able to pick up on that. 

“I can understand that,” she agreed. Azriel also helped. In a lot of ways that she never even thought he would. It was so easy to just be herself with him, to not need to be anybody different. Ever.

“You love Azriel?” Nesta asked quietly. “He’s…He’s a good man. A good friend.” 

“He’s my mate,” Oriana responded, forming another meatball. 

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Nesta said with a shrug. “Do you love him?” she insisted. 

“I do,” Oriana answered truthfully. “I love him. I loved him from the moment I first saw him at that market in Verlairs because he was my mate, but I fell in love with him, because it’s Azriel. And he may never believe that he is a good male, but he is a righteous one. And I have learned that that is worth much more,” she said quietly. 

Nesta seemed to turn her words around in her mind for a little while like she wasn’t quite sure what to think about it. Oriana finished her meatballs, not bothering to light the fire on the stove as she made it roar with a flick of her wrist. 

“Is that a Tartera thing or…” Nesta asked suddenly and Oriana looked up as she put her meatballs in the oven. 

“It’s a me thing,” she said, as she washed her hands and then dried them. “My father came from the Autumn Court. Tartera are fireproof but they can’t control it. I can do both,” she explained with a shrug. 

“Do you have silver flames?” Nesta asked suddenly and Oriana mustered her. Azriel had mentioned something like that to her, though she didn’t know the full story. 

“No, I don’t,” she answered honestly. “I can control magical fire to some extent, though that can still hurt me, just like every other Tartera.”

Nesta seemed to take that at face value. 

"Cassian said that you made the hairpins,” Nesta said suddenly. “Thank you. They are quite…”

“Beautiful and deadly,” Oriana ended the sentence with some amusement. “It’s good that you found use for them. There is nothing worse than making something that nobody can find a use in,” she said thoughtfully. Every time she melted down a piece, it broke a little bit of her heart, even when she could make it even better. 

Still. It was something that she had created with her own two hands and her own magic. 

“You have a jewellery shop down in the Rainbow?” Nesta asked and Oriana nodded. 

“Yes, I do. I used to be an Enchantress, but I fell out of love with that…so I left the mountain…and took up my creed in Velaris. Now…Since I met Azriel, I went back to my roots. I was never somebody who forged weapons. But I was the one you went to when you needed protection ,” Oriana explained, fiddling with her tea towel. “That was always my goal, what I strived for.”

Nesta seemed to mull that over in her head. 

“I need to know, did you make anything enchanted for Azriel?” she asked Oriana, sounding definitely amused. 

“I made him new armour,” she admitted. “But he wanted to test that before actually using it.”

“Don’t let Cassian hear that, he hounded Az for weeks about the siphons,” Nesta said with a laugh, the sound like tinkling bells. Oriana grinned.

“I made some for him. You two can take them back with you if you want to.”  Nesta nodded, before she grew serious, one hand reaching up to touch the hairpins. 

 “Sometimes I forget how…many different things you can be in this world,” she admitted quietly and Oriana sighed softly. 

How weird their world must be to a female who spent most of her life in the human world? That was still so young. Oriana had lived for nearly 2 centuries before Nesta had ever been born. She was just a few years older than Althea was, her niece.

“Every time I invent something new, I am in awe at magic,” Oriana said quietly. “And that’s something I have done for centuries. You are still so young. And you didn’t even grow up in this world.”

“How old are you?” Nesta wondered. 

“225 years this year,” Oriana answered honestly. “Though to be honest, I stopped really counting some time after I turned 100…I got married when I was 18. He died a few months before we celebrated our 80th wedding anniversary.”

Nesta stared at her. “You know how weird that sounds to somebody like me?” she asked weakly. Oriana couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Yeah, I can imagine,” she agreed, as she pulled her meatball from the oven, pulling out spices to make the sauce. 

“You know he’s not usually that bad,” Nesta said suddenly. “Rhysand, I mean,” she clarified at Oriana’s look. “He’s an asshole, definitely, but he tends to mean well,” she said quietly. “And I am also the last person you would ever expect to defend him. I don’t particularly like him, but… he wants the best for his people.”

Right. 

“Ah.”

The noise must have made it very obvious that she didn’t agree but Nesta cocked her head to the side as Oriana added spices to her pan. 

“You don’t think so?” she asked, sounding curious. Like she had never even thought about it. Maybe she hadn’t. She hadn’t been born into this world. She hadn’t been surrounded by it by centuries. But then, maybe she hadn’t already grown jaded to it. 

“You know…I…I am not completely High Fae,” Oriana said quietly. “I am a half-breed. Half Tartera, Half High Fae. I belong to both societies and to neither in a sense,” she explained. “I grew up sitting at my grandmother’s council table in the mountain. We are a smaller society than the Night Court at large by far,” she warned Nesta. “That means, that I am very much aware that the way, my grandmother governs can’t be replicated on a grand scale. My grandmother knows every Tartera in the mountain. She knows who they love, who they hate, who they want to be. She knows all of that. Rhysand can’t know that. How should he?”

“But…Hewn City,” Oriana said with a sigh.

“Yes?” Nesta asked, sounding curious. 

“Do you think Hewn City is fair? To it’s inhabitants? I don’t mean the old faes that chose to stay there. They made their choice. They can live with the consequences. But every child that is born in that place, every girl that is married off to a male that treats her like dirt…they didn’t choose that. Innocent children are born there every day and their parents and families prejudices poison them until they are just like them . Of course, they are. Why should they have a different opinion? They never even knew a different way of life,” Oriana said fiercely. “It’s not fair to the children.” 

Nesta stared at her, swallowing. 

“You…you have thought about this,” Nesta said quietly. Oriana nodded. 

“I am not saying the mountain is perfect. It’s not. We are far from that. Arranged marriages happen there, my own was…but children are seen as incredibly important and must be protected at all costs.  If you willingly choose not to have them…no Tartera will understand that. My sister never married. She gets to hear about that every damn day. As do both my brothers. And our justice system is harsh. Capital punishment is used…more freely than it…should. We don’t  have a stomach for war, but we had a harsh walk to that realization.”

“Still. As a Fae…all you have is time. Once you have your first century under your belt, all the time you have…you can spend it thinking. And you start to have opinions about everything,” she said drily. “Not just serious political ones but also about what kind of Fireale is superior. The better-tasting one or the one that gets you drunk faster? Is there a better way to forge silver? Opals just don’t look good with marigold yellow and I much prefer working with yellow gold over rose gold. See? A wealth of opinions.”

Nesta looked at her like she had lost her mind for a moment.  

She opened her mouth to respond but then Oriana felt her warding snap, like the maw of a waiting bloodhound. 

“We got a visitor,” she said drily, putting out the oven with a wave of her hand. 

She could feel who it was. 

Still, the sight of an Illyrian half suspended in midair like a fly in amber made her grin. 

Her warding net had become visible, a glowing golden dome surrounding the Lakehouse. 

“Oriana Fireborn.”

“Rhysand.”

[allisondraste]

Temperance (18/?)

Pairing: Nathaniel Howe/ Female, Non-HoF Cousland

Story Summary: Nathaniel and Elissa were childhood friends, but time and distance tore them apart. In the aftermath of the Fifth Blight, and Ferelden’s Civil War, both Elissa and Nathaniel must attempt reconstruct their tattered lives. As a series of events lead them to be reunited, both are reminded of so many years ago when things were much simpler.

Chapter Summary:    Teenage Nathaniel has a lot going on in his life, and his return to Highever does not go exactly as he expects it to.

Notes:  Thanks all for the patience with my updating. I've been busy these past few weeks, and it's just taken a bit more time than usual! This is a very fun, very dialogue-heavy chapter with a lot of information that'll be important for later, so I hope you all enjoy!

First Chapter Previous Chapter [AO3 LINK]

Highever, 9:21 Dragon

It had been an interesting year for Nathaniel, to say the least.  In fact, interesting was a rather positive spin on the things that transpired since his prior visit to Highever.  Fergus’ involvement with “that Antivan tart” enraged Father as it effectively ruined his chances of a match between the heir to Highever and Delilah.  It was a similar rage to that which he displayed when Teyrn Cousland refused to arrange a marriage between Thomas and Liss. He’d spent much of the year fussing about being “thwarted at every turn.”  Perhaps Nathaniel had been too young to understand it before, but he could see now, the alliance between the Howes and Couslands was very much one-sided and based upon conditions. Conditions that were slowly slipping out of his father’s grasping fingers.

It seemed the man’s primary mission in life had become finding suitable matches for all three of his children, including Nathaniel, which was particularly odd considering all previous indications suggested that his father wanted him alone and miserable. “Suitable” also meant that he was still not permitted to pursue Liss, however.  His father still held onto hope that Thomas could woo her and Nathaniel was thrust in front of countless minor lords and their beautiful, yet ridiculously passive daughters with personalities like sacks of flour.

It was unfair of him, he knew.  They were perfectly lovely young women who he was certain would come out of their flour sacks with time and attention.  They just weren’t her. Nobody ever would be. The thought that he might forever be dissatisfied worried him terribly. It also caused him to resent his little brother.  Cheerful, handsome, Thomas with his curled ringlets of hair and dark eyes who looked so much like Mother it ached. He did not deserve hard feelings, and Nathaniel was cautious to never show them.

“Nate,” Thomas had asked one day, hovering at the doorway to his room, “Can I talk to you about something?”

Nathaniel sat his book down, and straightened up. “You can always talk to me, Tom.”

“Can we,” he looked down and wrung his hands, an unusual self-conscious state for the boisterous boy, “Go somewhere nobody will hear?”

“I’m sure that if you come in and shut the door nobody will hear. What’s the matter?”

Thomas had just lowered his head somberly and refused to say a word until Nathaniel agreed to walk up to the secluded portion of the battlements with him.  He would have told Thomas to find Delilah instead if it hadn’t seemed so urgent. She was better at the whole talking and reassuring thing.  

“So,” Nathaniel said with a sigh as he leaned out over the battlements,  spring wind rustling his hair. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on, or am I supposed to guess?”  He smiled to show he was not as irritated as he sounded.

“I don’t want to marry that Cousland girl,” Thomas blurted, slamming his fists on the parapet.

“You wouldn’t be marrying her now, Tom.” He  laughed despite the bitterness.

“I don’t want to marry her ever.”

“Why not,” Nathaniel asked, offended and relieved at the same time, “What’s wrong with her?”

“Nothing,” he explained, “And that’s the problem. She’s beautiful and perfect and I see why you love her, but I don’t think I ever could. Not like that at least.”

“Like what,” Nathaniel teased though he knew what his brother meant and Thomas shot him a look that could have killed.

His brother sighed and slumped forward, elbows on the parapet, face in his hands. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you.  I need to tell you something, and you can’t tell Father or Delilah or anyone.”

“You have my word.”

“Remember when you told me that you sometimes think that other boys are just as beautiful as girls?” He rose up and fidgeted when Nathaniel nodded.

“Well… I have never seen a girl that I liked in that way, ever.  I thought I just hadn’t, you know, seen the right one yet, but…” Thomas trailed off,  shook his head, and furrowed his brows thoughtfully. “I just don’t think I like girls.”

“I see,” Nathaniel said with a sympathetic nod.

“I’ll still do what I’m supposed to,” Thomas asserted, lifting his chin proudly, “I’ll marry a pretty girl, have a family, carry on the name.  I’ll do as Father asks, but it won’t be with Elissa.”

“Tom.”  No fourteen year old boy should have to be thinking about such things.  No sixteen year old boy should either. Not really.

“I’m not going to do that to you.  Or her. It would just make you both hate me, I think.”  He nodded decisively.

“I appreciate that,” Nathaniel said, placing a hand on Thomas’ shoulder and meeting his gaze, “But how in Andraste’s name are you going to keep Father off your arse about it?”

“I will be horribly bad at wooing,” Thomas laughed, “Actually, I might not have to pretend.  Father might even ask you to take me under your wing and teach me.”

“You act like I’m some expert or something.  I promise you I’m not.”

“Then how come I saw you kissing all those banns’ daughters?” Thomas elbowed him.

“You saw that?”  He panicked briefly, attempting to remember which bann’s daughters.  They were all the same to him in that they were not Liss. Memorable as kissing washcloths.  He was a horrible person.

“You weren’t exactly hiding it, in the middle of the courtyard like that.”

“Well, they offered.  It would have been rude to refuse,” Nathaniel said matter-of-factly and then sighed, “I have to make father believe I am at least trying.  If he thinks I am holding out to be with Liss… I don’t know that he will let me go back to Highever.”

“Oh. Right.” Thomas frowned.  “I think it’s stupid father won’t let you be with her.  I don’t know why it needs to be me. You’re the heir. He should let you be the heir.”

“I don’t even know that she would want to be with me,” he answered, shaking his head, “But, thank you, Tom.  That means a lot to me.”

That conversation had been just weeks ago, but it still rang so clearly in Nathaniel’s mind as he hopped from the carriage, grabbed his things, and made his way to the gates of Highever’s Castle.  Its grey stone walls stood just as they had years ago, stark against the pleasant backdrop of the Waking Sea. It was not nearly as imposing as it had been when he’d first visited. In fact, nothing was as imposing as it had been back then, not even his father.

Thomas’ decision to deceive Father motivated Nathaniel to consider the same.  What would be the harm in confessing his feelings to Liss, after all? If she reciprocated, he could explain that it would need to be a secret until he was old enough that he could tell his father where to shove his stupid rules.  She would understand, surely. Still, there would always be the danger of them being found out by others and father punishing him, shaming her. There was also the possibility that Liss would not feel the same. Then what? He shook his head, and trudged forward.  It didn’t matter considering that he was too much of a bloody coward.

”Ho,” Fergus greeted with a cheerful wave as Nathaniel entered the courtyard through the castle gates, “Welcome back, Nate!”

A woman stood at his side, tall and slender with auburn hair that was braided and decorated with metal pieces that glinted in the sunlight.  Her clothing was unusual and far from being practical enough to be of Ferelden make. Fergus’ hand clutched her waist comfortably, as she looked up at him with an almost sickening admiration.  

“Fergus,” he called back, closing the distance, and directing his attention to the woman and bowed his head respectfully, “You must be Lady Oriana.”

“I am not a lady,” she replied with a chuckle, her accent thick and charming, “But my Fergus has told me it would be pointless to argue with you about it.”

“Probably,” Nathaniel said, shrugging and smiling.  

“That’s just Nate,” Fergus explained, moving away from Oriana and drawing Nathaniel in a brief hug, “He’s like that with everyone.  I think he’d be a big hit if he ever visited a brothel.”

“Fergus,” Oriana gasped, scandalized.

“What?” He continued with a laugh despite her bright blue eyes glaring up at him. “I’m just saying he’d make several ‘ladies’ there blush with all that chivalry of his.”

She scolded him again, shaking her head this time and turning her eyes to Nathaniel, “I apologize on his behalf.  I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Nathaniel laughed, “You’re the one who has to put up with him.”

“Someone has to,” she said, pressing a kiss to his cheek and tousling his hair.  

“Damn it, woman,” Fergus grumbled and raked his fingers through his hair to smooth it back down.  

“Uh-uh,” Oriana replied, wagging her finger, “According to Nathaniel, I’m a lady.  You should address me accordingly.” “‘Damn it, my lady,’ just sounds ridiculous.”

“How is that any different from the rest of the things you say?” Nathaniel chimed in and Oriana laughed.

“I like him,” she exclaimed.

“Unfortunately, so do I,” Fergus remarked dryly.

“Well,” she said, looking between the two of them, “Who am I to keep you from catching up?  Besides, I am due for some evening tea with your mother and Elissa.”

“ Maker, don’t keep them waiting.  Mum’ll get bored and pick a fight, and Liss will stomp off to her room crying.”

“If your sister even shows up.”  Oriana frowned and looked down at the ground, kicking at the grass.

“She will,” Fergus said softly, tilting her chin up and kissing her briefly on the lips.  It was both endearing and annoying. ”She gave me her word.”

With that, Oriana turned and headed toward the entrance to the main hall, Fergus watching her proudly as she left.  He turned to Nathaniel, scowl painting his face as soon as she was out of sight.  

“I hope Liss shows up,” he remarked tersely, bringing his hand to his face. “She’s always loved older girls, looked up to them.  Now, there’s one that’s actually important to me, and she doesn’t seem to like her.”

“That’s not it.” Nathaniel shook his head, recalling a conversation he had with her the previous summer.

“Oh?”

“She’s worried that you are going to forget about her, now that you’re in love.”

“That’s… dumb.  I would never! She’s my sister, for Andraste’s sake. Why would she think that?”

“Maybe because you forgot to write to her while you were away.”

“I did, didn’t I,” he asked wistfully, “I was just...er, distracted.”

“Right.  Of course,” Nathaniel laughed, “She made me promise I wouldn’t forget about her, when I fall in love, too.”

“Are you ever going to tell her how you feel?” Fergus tilted his head to the side and looked at him with a concerned expression.

Nathaniel just shrugged and Fergus seemed to accept that as an answer as he didn’t press further. Instead, he changed the subject, sharing stories from his summer away in Antiva to meet Oriana’s family.  He spoke very briefly about the country and her family, choosing to save the painstaking detail for the things he and Oriana had and had not done while they were there and since they’ve been back, and Nathaniel could have done without knowing most of it.  Still, he wasn’t going to interrupt.

Eventually, the conversation dwindled and Nathaniel parted with Fergus, tired from the long trip, and desperately wanting to drop his things down on the floor in his room and flop face first into the bed.  He’d speak with everyone else in the morning.

Turning the knob and pushing open the heavy wooden door with his shoulder, Nathaniel looked up to see that the room was occupied.  Rather intimately so, as two very familiar girls sat on the bed, arms wrapped around one another, fingers tangled in hair as they kissed.  His heart sank, and he stiffened, clearing his throat to make sure they noticed he was there. He had no right to be upset and yet jealousy boiled under his skin at the sight of Liss and Rila together.  

Both girls darted their heads toward Nathaniel with horrified expressions, scooting apart so that they were a polite distance away from one another, what Delilah would have called “leaving enough room for the Maker.”

“N-nate,” Liss said, standing up and straightening her skirt.  It was the first time since the first summer that she hadn’t embraced him first thing.  Instead, she bit her lip and looked frantically between him and Rila who looked as if she were about to cry. “I’m in your room again.”

“You are,” he acknowledged with a nod, “But don’t let me spoil the fun.  I’ll just set my things down and come back later.”

“No, no,” she rushed to him and placed her hands on his arm. “You don’t have to--.”

“Liss,” Rila interrupted, voice strained with emotion, “You promised it would be safe here.”

“It is.  It’s just Nate, and he won’t tell anyone,” she insisted, then looked at him with a plea in her eyes, “You won’t tell anyone, right?”

“No,” he said and watched the relief wash over her face.  He could not say the same for the elven girl who still looked at them both with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Rila muttered shaking her head and pushing past them to leave the room, “I”m going to… go.”

“Ri! Wait,” Liss called after her, but she didn’t listen, “Ugh.”

Liss sighed and groaned, walking back to Nathaniel’s bed and flopping down backwards, hands pressed into her face.  Nathaniel stood frozen in place, not certain what would be appropriate to say or do in such a situation. He only knew that it would be wrong to let his hurt feelings change the way he treated her.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled from beneath her own hands, “I’m stupid and I’m sorry.”

Nathaniel laughed and dared to walk over and sit down on the bed beside her. “You’re not stupid.”

“Oh, but I am.  Papa told me you’d be coming today, and I didn’t even think... “ She shook her head. “I’m embarrassed.”

“It’s pretty embarrassing,” Nathaniel echoed, and Liss glared up at him through her fingers. “What? It’s the truth.”

“I’d say it wasn’t what it looked like, but it is exactly what it looked like,”  Liss sat up and crossed her legs beneath her. She laughed and shook her head. “What must you think of me?”

“Nothing bad,” he said, unconsciously bringing a hand up to brush a loose curl from her face, but retracting it quickly when he realized what he was doing. “Kissing is nice.”

“It really is,” she explained, “And with all of this Fergus and Oriana stuff, I’ve just felt so lone -- oh no.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I was supposed to have tea with Mama and Oriana,” she tapped her forehead with the heel of her hand repeatedly. “I promised Fergus, and I really meant to go this time.  I just got… distracted. I should go talk to him.”

“Good idea.”

Liss stood up.  “I should also go talk to Rila, shouldn’t I?”

“Probably.”

She nodded at him and smiled, scurrying out the door and closing it behind her.  A few seconds passed before the door swung back open and Liss ran back into the room.  She threw her arms around him and squeezed tightly, pressing her lips to his cheek and pulling away.  

“Welcome back, Nate, ” she said in away that warmed his whole body, “I missed you.  We can catch up tomorrow, okay?”

Nathaniel nodded and Liss whirled around and exited the room, leaving him to go to bed as he originally intended.  He laid down, closed his eyes, and hoped the numb pain in his chest would go away eventually.