#Of course most of the banner was a big dragon she told me to draw while she traced weeb shit around it

[solradguy]

AI "artists" really are the modern day digital version of that kid in high school that'd trace art from printouts or from their classmates' works and say they drew it despite never having drawn a day in their life. Fuckin grifters

[recurring-polynya]

[Renji birthday] Hey, hi. What about Orihime does smt to surprise Renji for his birthday, a thank-you him helping her at New Year celebration? Include fireworks that Renji secretly enjoys? Thanks. Anything (fic, hcs, sketch..) is fine.

I’m sorry this is late, but it’s still the Renji - Orihime Birthday Weekend, so I think it’s okay!

I love the idea of the Renji - Orihime BroTP, but somehow it’s so hard for me to write, I always do a bunch of false starts or get stuck. For this round of prompts, I was trying to do the ones that inspired me the most and I liked the idea a lot more than I had ideas, if you get my drift. Anyway, I love them both too much, though, so I muscled through.

I’m sorry if this is a little ramble-y and quite silly and I didn’t manage to squeeze in fireworks (I’ve written several fireworks scenes in the past and didn’t want to repeat myself), but what it is is four thousand words long. Also, I managed to remember that Kon exists, this is possibly the first time I have ever put Kon in anything. I hope you like it!

Read on ao3 or ff.net

🎁    🎈    🎊

“Inoue,” Renji hissed. “Why am I here?”

Orihime took a quick step backwards as Keigo ran past, screaming. Ryo followed a second later, also screaming. Renji, who had served at Squad 11 for many years, managed to leap out of the way just in time. “It’s Ichigo’s birthday party,” Orihime explained. “He wanted you to come.”

“It’s not though,” Renji pressed. “It’s Arisawa’s birthday, and we’re at Arisawa’s house. I don’t think Arisawa even knows who I am.”

“Yes, she does, silly,” Orihime replied. “I told her lots of stories about you and she said she wanted you to come. There’ll probably be a football match later, and Ichigo told her we could have you on our team, as long as he got Rukia.”

“I got hauled in all the way from Soul Society for football?” Renji asked, sounding not-at-all upset about this.

“No, I told you! Ichigo wanted you to come.”

“But it’s not his birthday.”

“But it is his party. He and Tatsuki share, you see, because their birthdays are so close and they have all the same friends. It’s Tatsuki’s year to host the big friend party. Ichigo just had a little family party on his actual birthday.”

“Ohhhhh,” Renji replied, finally understanding. He nodded for a moment. “What’s a family party?”

---

Orihime cleared her throat, and tapped her in her palm. “Thank you all for coming to this very important meeting.”

Chad, Ichigo, and Tatsuki were all crammed together on Orihime’s couch. Rukia sat on the arm, next to Chad, Kon in her lap. Uryuu sat in Orihime’s desk chair, which she had hauled in from her room.

Orihime thwapped her pointer against the large pad of paper on an easel that she had borrowed from the Student Health Advisors Club. On the first page, she had drawn a large picture of Renji and written his name. “It has come to my attention that Our Friend Renji has never had a Family Birthday Party.”

“Quick question--” Tatsuki interrupted. “Is he wearing a… fur bolero in that picture? And is the bone dragon an actual thing or just...Orihime artistic spice?”

“It’s a cowl,” Rukia said, at the same time as Chad said, “It’s a stole,” and Uryuu said “It’s a capelet.”

“Thank you, that cleared up nothing,” Tatsuki replied.

“It’s his bankai form,” Ichigo said, grumpily. “His sword turns into a giant flying snake skeleton that screams like a pterodactyl. It’s super sick and he let me ride on it twice and that cape thing is really soft, actually, but he says it gets hot. As far as I know it has nothing to do with his birthday.”

“Er, no, I just got carried away while I was drawing,” Orihime admitted. “Your bankai is very cool, too, Kurosaki-kun.”

“Got it, right,” Tatsuki nodded, sounding very much like she just wanted to move on. “He doesn’t have a family?”

“I think you’re worrying over nothing, Orihime,” Rukia said, sounding a teensy bit defensive. “Many people in Soul Society don’t have families. If there’s anyone in Soul Society who’s good at scraping up friends to spend a holiday with, it’s Renji. Everyone likes him. Half the Gotei turns up at the bar for his birthday parties.”

“I know that,” Orihime said quietly. “I know that because last New Year’s, when I was lonely, he played badminton with me, even though he was very, very hungover and pretending like he wasn’t, and then he went and rounded up all my friends in the middle of the night, and before he left, he told me there was nothing wrong with making your own holiday. But family birthdays are different! Family birthdays are about the people who love you most doing special things, just for you!” Orihime set her jaw. “When I was little, Sora always tried to make my birthdays super special! We didn’t have a lot of extra money, but he would take the day off just to spend it with me and we would go to the park or watch movies or he would let me paint his nails and braid his hair. He would take a picture of me and put it in my special birthday album with my height and weight and current favorite food.” Orihime’s mouth snapped shut. Everyone was staring at her. She’d said too much, just like she always did. Her cheeks started to burn.

“When I was little,” Ichigo suddenly said, a little bit too loud, “my mom told us that we could have whatever we wanted for dinner on our birthdays. One year, I…” he paused, his eyes darting over to Tatsuki. “I had just seen Kiki’s Delivery Service, and I was obsessed with that fish and pumpkin casserole the old lady makes?”

Orihime gasped, and clapped her hands over her mouth.

Uryuu rolled his eyes. “Who wasn’t, Kurosaki?”

Ichigo snorted, but his shoulders relaxed a little. “Anyway, it took her most of the day, and I think she must’ve gotten really frustrated at some point because me and my sisters got sent over to Tatsuki’s house so the Old Man could help her. It came out kind of lumpy and huge, but it was delicious, it was exactly what I had imagined it would taste like.”

“I remember that thing,” Tatsuki added. “She made us come over for dinner because there was so much of it. It was incredible.”

“We didn’t do Birthday Dinners for a few years after she died,” Ichigo said slowly. “But then after Yuzu got good at cooking, she said she wanted to try doing it again. My dad really likes the Godfather movies and he always used to ask for spaghetti for his birthday, which it turns out isn’t that hard to make. Karin and me helped out, and we’ve been doing it again ever since. We don’t usually do fancy stuff, it’s just nice to get to pick.”

“Ichigo made me omurice on my birthday and let me use his body to eat it!” Kon announced.

“You didn’t have to tell everyone that,” Ichigo stammered, turning pink. “It’s the only thing I’m good at making.”

“My abuelo always used to sing Las Mañanitas on my birthday,” Chad put in. “First thing in the morning. Sometimes he would come into my room and wake me up. Sometimes I would come down for breakfast and he would be there, with his guitar. He wouldn’t even say ‘good morning’ until he’d sung Las Mañanitas.”

Orihime’s spirits lifted a little. “See? That’s exactly what I’m talking about!”

Rukia crossed her arms over her chest. “Renji gets up at the crack of dawn. I’m certainly not going over to his place to sing at him while he mixes up his horrible protein beverages.”

“Well, it wouldn’t have to be exactly that,” Orihime went on. “I just thought, since his birthday was coming up in a few weeks, maybe we could throw him a party here, in the World of the Living that was… I don’t know… a little more heartfelt than just going out drinking.”

“I think that’s a very thoughtful idea, Inoue,” Uryuu said.

“Oh! I was worried you wouldn’t want to help, because… you know.”

“I had a row with Ryuuken last week,” Uryuu sniffed. “I’m honestly in the mood to do something nice for a shinigami. Besides, it’s Abarai, he doesn’t really count anymore.” He paused for a moment. “You either, of course, Kuchiki.”

“You wanna have it at my house?” Ichigo offered. “Since me and Tatsuki are the only ones with backyards, and I don’t imagine Tatsuki would want to explain this to her mom.”

“I appreciate that,” Tatsuki put in. “I can help though, if you want. In my family, we like to decorate, and I still have a bunch of streamers and balloons left over from last week.” She gestured at Orihime’s drawing. “We could probably make him a banner or something out of that. It’s pretty good!”

“Oh, that’s such a good idea!” Orihime exclaimed. She should have known her friends would be helpful. She flipped to a new page on her notepad, and began to write things down.

“I can help decorate!” Kon piped up. “I am very artistic, you know!”

“I can bring my guitar,” Chad offered. “I don’t know if Abarai wants to hear me sing…”

Ichigo shoved him in the shoulder. “Shut up. We always want to hear you sing and you never do. If Renji doesn’t want to hear you sing, he’s got no taste and also, he can suck it.”

Rukia rubbed her forehead, like she felt a headache coming on. “Renji goes to all his friends’ poetry readings and community theater and open mic nights. I am sure he would be overjoyed to be serenaded by Chad.”

“What about you, Uryuu?” Orihime asked. “I know you and your father don’t get along, but is there anything that you associate with feeling special on your birthday?”

Uryuu’s face contorted for a moment. “Ah, there is, but I’m sure it’s not helpful.”

“Maybe it will give us an idea,” Chad prodded.

Uryuu frowned. “Well, when I was very small, my mother used to make me a new kimono every year. She was… a very skilled seamstress.” He frowned. “I don’t have Abarai’s measurements, and besides, he couldn’t take it back to Soul Society anyway.”

Kon perked up. “Ichigo! Ichigo, are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Ichigo jabbed a finger Uryuu. “Yuzu just got a bedazzler and she has a ton of t-shirt paint! We could bedazzle him a t-shirt! For his gigai! I’ll even keep it in my closet for him with all of Rukia’s crap!”

“Kurosaki, no,” Uryuu insisted.

“Kurosaki, yes,” Ichigo insisted. “It’s like you’ve never even met the man. I’m gonna make the most Renji t-shirt you’ve ever seen and he’s gonna love it so hard he’ll make me his new best friend.”

“I want to help,” Chad put in.

“You may,” Ichigo replied magnanimously.

“It was my idea-- whoa, Rukia, watch out!” Kon cried as he went tumbling to the ground.

Rukia was practically crawling over Chad, trying to punch Ichigo in the head. “He’s my best friend, you ass!”

“He is for now,” Ichigo replied ominously.

“You are my beloved protege, but I will end you, Kurosaki.”

“Kuchiki-san?” Orihime asked tentatively. “Do you think you could come up with a way to get him to come here? I think it should be a surprise, so you would probably have to make up a story...I understand if you don’t want to.”

Rukia looked up from where she was half-hanging over Chad’s shoulder. “Of course I can do that. I love lying to Renji. He can usually tell when I’m lying to him, but he’ll go along with whatever I say anyway.”

“Oh, good!” Orihime replied, a wave of relief washing over her. She had no idea how they would get Renji here otherwise. Mr. Urahara, maybe. Maybe.

Rukia’s brows creased as she rearranged herself to sit on the back of the couch between Chad and Ichigo. “Did you think I would say no?”

“Well… it didn’t seem like you thought this was a very good idea.”

Rukia’s cheeks colored and she waved her hands. “No, no! It’s not that at all! I think it’s a great idea! It’s really sweet of all of you. Renji’s so easy-going, people always… never mind! I’ll help however I can!”

“Try to find out what meal he might like,” Uryuu suggested. Kon was now sitting on his head. “That sounded nice and I can help cook.”

“That’s a no-brainer,” Rukia replied. “He hasn’t stopped talking about Chad’s burritos since the Advance Team mission ended.”

“Burritos are easy,” Chad agreed, “especially if Uryuu helps.”

“What about you, Rukia?” Tatsuki asked. “You have a brother, right? What do you do for family birthdays in Soul Society?”

Ichigo made a Big Yikes face, and Rukia shoved him in the head again. Orihime had stayed with the Kuchiki siblings when she was training in Soul Society, and while Byakuya could be pretty stiff, she was under the impression that he and Rukia were both working to have a better relationship.

“Kuchiki birthdays are very formal,” Rukia said regally, and then frowned. “Mostly, a bunch of Honored Relatives come over for dinner and you have to wear fancy clothes and it’s kind of a pain.” She thought for a moment. “Brother gave me a beautiful set of colored pencils for my last birthday. It’s hard to buy him presents, because he’s so particular and he usually just buys the things that he wants. He writes a lot of letters, though, so I went to my favorite stationery store and bought him some pretty paper I thought he would like. I figured that if I picked wrong, he could just use it to send letters to people he hates.” Rukia’s eyes softened. “He really liked it, actually. I guess he’s not very used to getting gifts that people have spent any time thinking about.”

“Thoughtful gifts are such a nice idea!” Orihime nodded eagerly.

“It’s hard, though,” Uryuu added, “because of the whole matter conversion issue.”

“What,” Ichigo bit off, “is not thoughtful about a t-shirt covered in rhinestones?”

“If all of you help me think of something, I will buy it for him back in Soul Society,” Rukia promised. “Not sunglasses, though. I already bought him sunglasses.”

“Isn’t his birthday, like a month away?” Ichigo frowned.

“Sometimes I plan ahead! Shut up!” Rukia scowled. “Brother and I also like to make each other cards. Brother is an amazing artist, obviously, mine hardly compare to his, but he is very gracious about my efforts.”

“Oh, that’s a wonderful idea, Rukia!” Orihime agreed, writing down “cards” on her notes. She looked over her list. “I think this is shaping up to be a very good birthday!”

---

“Thanks for agreeing to come along,” Rukia said to Renji when he showed up at her front door on the morning of August 31. “How’s your head?”

“I feel great, but I hydrate tirelessly and also, I wasn’t the one who got into a drinking contest with Captain Komamura. How’s your head?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Rukia replied.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to just go? I’m sure I can-- did I read your text right? Ichigo got his soul stuck in Kon’s lion body and we have to go get him out? I… can probably handle that if you need to stay home and sleep it off.”

“Learn to read, oaf. Ichigo got his soul stuck in Kon’s lion body and we are going to laugh at him. Obviously, I wouldn’t miss that for anything.”

“Ahhhh, okay, that makes a lot more sense!”

“C’mon, we should get moving before Orihime takes pity on him or something.” She waved him inside. “Don’t worry, Brother said it was fine to use the family senkaimon.”

“Ah, good morning, Captain!” Renji said, his voice bright with nervous energy.

Rukia turned around and blinked. Sure enough, Byakuya was looming in the foyer. He had definitely not been in the entry thirty seconds ago.

“Good morning, Lieutenant,” Byakuya replied. “How delightful to see you in my house on a Sunday morning.”

“Brother, we talked about this,” Rukia pressed. “We had a whole discussion.”

Byakuya ignored her and plowed on. “I did not expect to see you today, but since you are here, I have something for you.” He held out a handsome, hardcover book. Gingerly, Renji accepted it and frowned at the cover. “It is the next book in the Tales of the Iron Army series,” Byakuya explained. “You are a fan of that series, are you not?”

Renji’s mouth gaped a little. “This isn’t… out… yet…”

“The publisher is an acquaintance of mine,” Byakuya said, looking off into the middle distance. “He offered me an advance copy, so I asked for two.”

“Uh, um, thanks, sir!” Renji managed.

“Think nothing of it,” Byakuya said stiffly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am extremely busy this morning.”

Rukia stared, gape-mouthed at the spot where Byakuya had been standing a moment previous. She wasn’t allowed to use shunpo in the house.

“What?” Renji choked out.

“Sometimes people just give him things,” Rukia shrugged, trying to play it off, but secretly fuming. She had told Byakuya that Renji was coming over and to (1) not mention his birthday and (2) not be weird. 0 for 2, Brother.

“Rukia,” Renji reiterated, and when she finally looked over, he was holding up a little slip of cardstock that had apparently been tucked into the front cover of the book. On it was painted a little watercolor Wakame Ambassador. He was wearing a humorous hat. In Byakuya’s immaculate calligraphy were the words ‘Congratulations. You are now older. You will still never defeat me.’ Renji stared at Rukia, as if this were somehow her fault. “W-h-a-t?” he mouthed very slowly and deliberately, no actual sound coming out of his mouth.

“Give me that!” Rukia snapped, grabbing both the book and the card out of his hand. “I told him we were going to the Living World, I don’t know why he couldn’t have given you this when we got back. Mikan!”

Rukia’s loyal maid immediately appeared at her elbow. “Yes, miss?”

Renji blinked. “How does everyone in this house move like that?”

“Hold onto this for Renji until we get back, okay? You can put it with the, um, other stuff.”

“Yes, miss.”

“What other stuff?” Renji asked, a grin tugging at the side of his mouth.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You just said ‘put it with the other stuff’?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You must have misheard, Lieutenant Abarai,” Mikan added sweetly.

“Maybe you should clean your ears out once in a while, dummy,” Rukia suggested.

“Are we really going to the Living World today, or was it just a ploy to get me over here?” Renji asked, doing a double take when he realized that Mikan had disappeared again.

“We’re really going!” Rukia protested, marching into the bowels of the house. “‘A ploy’, ha! You wish.”

“It is my birthday,” Renji pointed out, sounding a little suspicious.

“And we had your birthday party last night! What more do you want?”

“Nothing, actually! Very good birthday, as birthdays go!” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “Thanks for coming, by the way.”

Rukia rolled her eyes. “As if I wouldn’t come.”

Renji shrugged. “Well…you didn’t, for a long time. And those weren’t as fun. So thanks. For coming.”

Rukia opened her mouth and then closed it again. She didn’t know what to say to that.

Fortunately, Renji had a keen instinct for changing the subject when things got awkward. “Were you there when Rangiku’s boob fell out? She says that since it was the right one, it’s a sign that this is going to be an auspicious year for me.”

“I did! I was talking to Momo and we were basically at Ground Zero when it happened! I can’t believe Hisagi was in the restroom.”

“He’s probably still sobbing about it.”

They continued to recap the best parts of the party as they traveled through the senkaimon and picked up their gigai from Urahara’s, but there was something nagging at Rukia, something that had been nagging at her ever since Orihime, with her giant, squishy heart, had suggested that Renji deserved something better on his birthday, something which Rukia knew was unequivocally true.

“Oi, Renji,” she said suddenly as they turned onto Ichigo’s street. Renji was in the middle of a story about Iba’s sideburns, but she’d heard it before, and they both knew he was only telling it to fill the time.

“Eh?” he replied.

“I, uh, I just wanted to say, I’m sorry that our birthdays were so shitty growing up,” she said quickly. “Sorry in the sympathy sense, not the guilt sense. We were just kids, it’s not like there’s much more we could have done. Just... it sucked and it’s not fair and I’m sorry.”

Renji was staring at her with a look of mild horror on his face. “You thought our birthdays sucked?”

Rukia stared back at him. “They weren’t great, that’s for sure.”

Renji’s face fell a little. “Oh. I’m sorry you feel that way. We… we did try, you know. I remember stealing blankets for your birthday, to make sure we had enough for all of us. We always used to try to make sure we had something to eat that day, too.”

Rukia flushed. “I wasn’t talking about me, dummy!” She paused. “You did? Crap. Now I feel even worse.”

“My birthday’s in August,” Renji shrugged. “We didn’t need to worry about freezing our asses off. And we almost always managed to do something fun that day. Going fishing or making a bonfire or lying on the roof and looking at the stars.” Renji gave a rueful little chuckle. “You know, it’s fun when everyone gets together to get smashed on my birthday, but there are so many people and you can hardly hear what anyone is saying. Those old days… I dunno. I guess maybe they just felt a little more personal. When we were here on Tatsuki and Ichigo’s birthday, Orihime was telling me about family birthdays, and I think our old birthdays were a lot like that. Just some nice time spent with the people I like best.”

“You’re such a sap,” Rukia said, trying to keep her voice from wobbling.

“Like you didn’t know that,” Renji snorted. “I’m definitely gonna give Ichigo a hard time, but I’m actually kinda glad he managed to pull this bonehead move on my actual birthday. It’s a good excuse to come see him, and I got to spend a little quality time with you, to boot. Was kinda nice to see the captain, actually, even though he made a quick exit.” Renji sucked his teeth for a moment. “After we get Ichigo sorted, I don’t ‘spose you’d mind taking a little stroll around town and seeing what the other kids are up to today?”

Rukia had her hand on the gate that led to the Kurosaki back yard. “That… could probably be arranged.” She pushed the gate open.

“SURPRISE!”

Confetti filled the air. Someone was blowing an air horn. Everyone (except Uryuu) was wearing very bedazzled t-shirts. Even Kon, sitting on Chad’s shoulder, wore a tiny one with an even tinier lion on it.

“Happy birthday, Renji!”

“Happy birthday, you old geezer!”

“We made you burritos!”

Rukia looked up at Renji. He had one hand clapped over his mouth and his eyes were wide. “Happy birthday, dumbass,” she said softly.

“Excuse me, I will be right back,” Renji said, turning on his heel and walking out the gate.

Orihime’s eyes went wide. “Oh, no! What did we do?”

Rukia held up her hands. “Just give him a second, he’s fine.”

The Karakura kids barely had time to exchange worried glances when Renji burst back in through the gate, at full volume. “What the Hell is this?” he roared. “And where did you get those t-shirts?”

“We made them!” Ichigo shouted back, and thrust a poorly wrapped bundle into Renji’s hands. “We made you one, too!”

Renji enthusiastically tore open his present and held up its contents. “Rukia,” he gasped. “Rukia, look.”

“Chad drew the Hihiou Zabimaru,” Ichigo explained proudly. “I was the one who wrote ‘OH YEAH!!’”

“It’s so beautiful,” Renji sniffed. “Here, Rukia, hold this!” He shoved the shirt into Rukia’s arms and immediately began to wrestle off the one he was currently wearing.

“Uh… buddy…” Tatsuki frowned, trying to throw her hand up in front of Orihime’s eyes, but also unable to tear her eyes away. “That is… a lot… of tattoos…”

“It’s okay, we’ve all seen it,” Orihime reassured her, pushing Tatsuki’s hand away.

“Never mind seeing it again,” Kon added philosophically.

“How does it look?” Renji asked, once he’d gotten dressed again. He was flexing his biceps for good measure.

“It’s a little tight,” Rukia replied, but it didn’t stop her from looking.

“That’s how hot people wear their clothes, Rukia,” Ichigo informed her. “Get with it.”

“I love this so much!” Renji declared, looking down at his own torso again. “I can’t believe you all made this for me. I am so happy!”

“Brace yourself, Abarai,” Uryuu said, “but this is about 1% of the birthday festivities Orihime planned for you.”

Orihime’s cheeks turned pink and she waved her hands frantically. “Everyone chipped in, I hardly did anything!”

“We know you don’t like cake, so we put a candle in a burrito for you,” Ichigo said, jerking his thumb toward the picnic table. “Come sit in front of it, so Chad can sing you your birthday song.”

“We saved you the lawn chair without any wobbly legs,” Kon added generously.

On his way past, Renji slung his arm around Orihime’s shoulders. “Thanks, kid,” he murmured.

Orihime looked up at him. “You’re our friend and I just wanted you to know how special we think you are on your birthday.”

Renji stared at her for a moment, an expression on his face like he wasn’t sure how to make words come out. Suddenly, he tightened his elbow around his neck and crashed the knuckles of his other hand fiercely into her scalp. “I love all of you, too!” he laughed.

“You can’t noogie Orihime!” Ichigo and Tatsuki yelled at the same time, and promptly tripped over each other in an attempt to tackle him. Uryuu flung a pinecone at Renji’s head. With his typical perfect aim, it would have been a direct hit, except that Kon had leapt from Chad’s shoulder directly into its trajectory and got beaned in the face instead.

Orihime was laughing and shouting “That tickles, that tickles!” Renji was cackling. Chad stood, dumbfounded, his guitar hanging around his neck.

“Rukia… avenge us…” Ichigo groaned from the ground.

“On one hand, it’s his birthday and Renji should get to noogie whomever he wants,” Rukia declared loftily. “On the other hand, Orihime is a precious angel. On the third hand, suck it, Abarai!”

She launched herself at him.

[sun-and-shadow-aloy]

Favorite Passage

I have done this one once and went with a passage from a Dragon Age story, so @pikapeppa hit me again ;)

This time I am going to share one of my favorite passages from Seeker of the Nora. It was insanely hard to choose just one but this passage shows how deeply two of the men she loves care for her and she for them. (Also, maybe a bit of a nod to Pika, since she was the one that tagged me ;) )

“So, you’re here. Really here. You risked your life.”

Sylens glared at her for a moment. “Of course, I did. If you’d have been killed, the Nora’s Sacred Mountain would have never given up its secrets.”

This man’s cruelty knew no bounds. He had saved her only so he could continue using her. Here she was thinking that maybe he was actually beginning to care what happened to her, but no. She was simply a prize, a weapon, a tool.

“Too bad you wasted your time. Helis destroyed my Focus and the Alpha Registry with it.” She was tempted to turn her Strider away and continue on to the Sacred Lands without his aid. She knew if she ever saw the man face to face, she’d want nothing more than to punch him.

Sylens laughed then, a small one, but enough to turn Aloy’s attention back to him. “Not at all. The whole time I’ve been monitoring your Focus, I’ve duplicated every data file you’ve scanned. Installing that data to a new Focus was trivially easy. ‘Happy birthday, Isaac. Daddy sure does love his little big man.’ He tossed a new Focus to her and she nearly dropped it in her shock.

She hadn’t heard those words in so long. It used to be her favorite find. Amongst all of the data her Focus had collected, it was the first and the one she watched when she wished for a family of her own. Of course, Sylens must have known this. There were little collection ticks anytime a file was opened. It always showed her, her most viewed files first. Among them were favorite pictures of beautiful landscapes, photos of Avad, Erend, and Nil. Audio and video recordings of times long since past and even one of Rost fishing. That was the first time she’d realized she could capture a video log. He’d had no idea what she was doing, so he sat there and took in the gentle breeze and the cool crisp air. It was him in his element.

“You’re really good at making it impossible to like you. But I guess I need this.” She wouldn’t let him know what some of those images meant to her. She placed the device on her ear and felt a calm settle over her as if she had reattached a piece of herself that had been missing for far too long.

Sylens smiled then. “It’s time to see where you were born. Maybe even learn why.”

Aloy’s frustrations with the man piqued again. “Yeah. Meet the machine that birthed me into this world. Isn’t that how you put it?”

He shut down then, turning his strider away from her. “I’ll be off.”

“Wait,” Aloy said suddenly. Not even sure why she was unwilling to let him wander away.

He turned back to her then. “Yes.”

She wasn’t sure what she wanted to ask him. Many thoughts and questions ran through her mind. She was about to ask but then their attention was drawn to the not so far off distance. A cloud of dust rose, signaling an oncoming horde. Aloy froze. Sylens watched in silence. Both of them seemed wary of whoever was coming.

“Shadow Carja,” she asked.

“Not likely. Coming from the wrong direction.”

This eased a bit of her nerves and she pressed on. “Helis recognized you back in the Sun-Ring. You told me that you’d assisted the Eclipse. Not that you knew the men who killed my… who almost killed me.” She had almost said her father, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of being able to correct her again. Rost wasn’t her biological father and he knew that. It would be one more thing he could throw in her face.

“So, now you know. The man is a serious threat. So let’s do all we can to make sure he and Hades do not succeed.”

She didn’t know what she expected him to say. Maybe some form of argument or some admission of guilt, but as always she got nothing. She sighed, “Right.”

She knew she would get no further answers from him and the dust cloud was drawing ever closer, making Sylens antsy. It was apparent that he did not want to be seen, even if they had just surmised that these people weren’t likely Shadow Carja.

“I’ll be on my way. To make matters worse, Helis ordered an Eclipse detachment to attack the Nora Sacred Land. The tribe’s already weak. They won’t stand a chance. You should come with me.” She knew a fighter lay under his intellectual façade. He wouldn’t have gotten this far if he weren’t.

He huffed. “Absolutely not. I have preparations to make elsewhere. Besides, it looks like you may have more help than you thought.” He gestured to the crowd of men that still drew closer to their position.

Her eyes still weren’t at their best and she tried to squint through the blazing sunlight to see what Sylens meant, but she couldn’t make out what he was trying to tell her.

Before setting his heels into his Strider he handed over one last gift, Shadow Carja armor. He said it would help her should she need to return to Sunfall or Shadow Carja territory. And then he apologized for being needlessly cruel about who or what her mother may be, telling her he did hope it was a who, not a what. That lifted her spirits somewhat, but not as much as the next thing she caught sight of.

Avad’s banner, along with the banner of the Vanguard swung proudly in the hands of the men coming toward her. And at the head of these men, two figures sprinted toward her. One was bulky and in heavy armor. He couldn’t quite keep up with the man ahead of him but he pushed just as hard.

Aloy jumped from her seat on the Strider. Tears sprang to her eyes as the sun’s gleam caught on the white of the Carja armor, made the red feathers glisten. She never thought she would be so happy to see that stupid headdress. He was alive! And he had brought the whole of the Vanguard with him, Erend included.

She raced forward. The tears made her swollen eyes ache but she didn’t care. She needed to touch him, to make sure the Sun wasn’t playing tricks on her. She needed to hold him, to kiss those thick lips and to know he was real. After her battle with the Behemoth, her legs ached, but she pushed through. She would make it to him, even if she collapsed into his arms.

As they closed the distance to each other, Aloy was rewarded with one thing she thought she’d never see. Nil was smiling. A genuine ear-to-ear smile. The last few days must have been just as hard on him as they were on her. To see emotions from him in any capacity was more than she had anticipated and made fresh tears bubble to the surface.

When she was close enough she leapt into his arms. She didn’t know she had the strength left, but somehow she made it and neither of them could help the laughs that sprang from them as they collided. Nil swung her around and buried his face in her neck as she wrapped her arms around him.

“I love you, Aloy. I love you.” He kept repeating the words like a mantra.

Aloy began to believe she would never stop crying. Her heart felt lighter than it had in a very long time, but they continued to spill down her face. With each new revelation the moment brought, it was like a wall was broken letting the rains pour and wash away all of the hurt and pain of the last few months. Hell, the last few days. Neither one of them had been certain that the other had survived. She knew he had made it out of the room before Helis’ bomb went off, but nothing past that. He must have thought the same when he heard the explosion behind him.

When he put her down, she pulled him into a deep kiss. Her heart exploded. She couldn’t contain how she felt about him any more than he could. “I love you, too. Everything about you.”

The moment was broken, but in no way ruined by the sound of someone else coming up behind them. She turned to the sound and opened her arms. Erend pulled her into a tight hug and the tears started anew.

“Fire and spit, Aloy. You have got to stop doing this to me. This is the second time I thought you may be dead.”

He squeezed her so tight that his armor started to hurt but she didn’t care. He was here. She had her rock to see her through this next phase. She had the Vanguard at her back. She had Nil. She might be able to give the Eclipse a real fight.

I believe I have tagged everyone already, so if you are reading this and haven't been tagged yet... consider yourself tagged.

[inawickedlittletown]

Walking The Wire (119/155)

Summary: Tony Stark always knew about Peter Parker. He didn’t know that Peter was going to get superpowers and become Spider-Man, but he always knew about Peter because Peter was his son.

This will span from pre-Iron Man up through the rest of the MCU (eventually including Infinity War) and will be for the most part canon compliant except where I’ve taken some liberties and interpreted canon a certain way.

Pairings: Pepper/Tony, Tony/Steve (endgame), Tony/Mary (past)

A/N: If you want me to tag you when I post new chapters let me know. This fic is also on AO3

I used Collider’s MCU timeline to stay canon and the title of this fic is an Imagine Dragons song that is just so fitting for Peter and Tony

@findmeinthestarss

Masterpost

Chapter One Hundred Eighteen

Stephen wasn’t exactly amazed by where they had ended up. Since learning the mystic arts and becoming the Sorcerer Supreme, he’d seen a lot. Experienced a lot. Being on a foreign planet was par for the course in a way. Stephen wasn’t even mourning the fact that he hadn’t even been able to have lunch. Or that he’d allowed Tony Stark to make the decision to not turn the alien ship around and go back home. A part him thought that maybe that was a good idea.

Back on the ship, he had been a little more focused on shaking everything that had happened off -- to just move past all the needles and how his entire day had gone from boring and average to the fate of the world being in his hands. Or rather around his neck. He’d been trying to just ignore that Stark was there and that he’d brought his kid along for some reason. He’d watched them for a time, seen how much Stark seemed to care about the boy. That had come to a head once they crash landed and Peter had been grabbed with a gun to his head and Stark had looked like he was going to kill the weird skinned alien on the floor. It had been so easy to see how absolutely serious Tony was.

Once it turned out that they were friendlies, Stephen had relaxed a little. One of them was even human which had been a crazy reveal and yet he supposed that it was a welcome one. But Stephen couldn’t concern himself with them and how they might help or hinder them since none of them seemed to be all that capable. Instead, Stephen had more important things to worry about. He needed to know if Stark’s plan to not return to Earth was a good one and if they would be able to protect the stone.

They were lucky that they hadn’t encountered anyone that actually did work for Thanos upon arriving, but there was no knowing when they would -- or when Thanos himself might arrive. Stephen suspected that the alien that had captured him had come to this planet to meet Thanos and give him the stone so it was a matter of time before he appeared and they didn’t have a plan on how to deal with that when it happened.

Before a plan, Stephen just needed to look at all the possible futures from this moment forward. Stark didn’t understand the importance of the Time Stone and how much of a difference it could make to have it and use it.

Being on a different planet was weird. The gravity was different which was odd once they got off the ship and onto the planet’s surface and Peter took a few steps. Mostly, Peter felt like his weight had changed. He stuck close to his dad, but Dr. Strange walked past them looking like he was in deep thought.

Tony placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder and steered him forward as Peter looked around and took everything in. Wherever they were, it was odd because there was oxygen and yet no visible life.It made Peter wonder about whether the planet had water. What it did have was a few moons and a sun. The planet had to be outside of their Solar System and possibly even their galaxy and while Peter didn’t know much about astrology, he knew that there were few planets that could sustain life and this one seemed like it could -- maybe. Or maybe they were breathing in something undetectable that would poison and kill them. The more he looked around, though, the more obvious it became that the planet seemed to be made up of ruins.

“Why do you think Thanos was coming here?” Peter asked.

His dad glanced at him. “Not sure but if those guys are here to go after Thanos then he’s coming here. They knew to come here looking for him.”

“Right,” Peter said with a nod. He was still a little bit annoyed by how easily he’d been grabbed.

“Quill,” Tony said.

“Star Lord,” he said.

“Sure sure, whatever,” Tony said, “what do we know about this planet? Where are we?”

Peter could tell that his dad hated having to ask but Star Lord would probably know more about it. It was also nice to know that his dad had probably been wondering the same things he was about the planet.

“This is Titan,” Star Lord said.

“Like Saturn’s moon?” Peter asked dubiously.

“No,” Star Lord said and shook his head. “We’re on the planet Titan.”

Peter was actually really curious about how someone from Missouri could end up in space travelling with some aliens and with clear knowledge of space and how it all worked. There had to be some sort of story there. Peter watched as Star Lord took out some sort of device that he waved around. A few seconds later he was frowning and looking a bit confused.

“The heck happened to this planet? It’s eight degrees off its axis. Gravitational pull is all over the place.”

Peter almost wanted to ask about how Star Lord could know that -- and what he was reading exactly to get that information or why it mattered so much. He had a whole bunch of questions but he was distracted from asking when one of Star Lord’s companions started jumping up and down, clearly enjoying the low gravity. They really had found a group of strange people.

“We got one advantage,” his dad said and Peter turned to him. “He’s coming to us.”

No one else reacted and it sort of seemed like his dad was mostly talking to himself and Peter. His dad seemed to have noticed the same thing because he started walking towards Star Lord. “We’ll use it,” he said. “Alright, I have a plan. Or at least the beginnings of one. It’s pretty simple. We draw him in, pin him down, get what we need. Definitely don’t want to dance with this guy. We just need the gauntlet.”

Tony had told him about the gauntlet earlier -- what Bruce Banner had described to his dad anyway. It was a little unfair that Peter had only managed to catch a glimpse of Bruce Banner during the fight in New York. It wasn’t exactly the biggest thing to worry about, but the man was brilliant and Peter would have loved to actually meet him.

If everything that his dad had told him about Thanos was true, getting the gauntlet off of him was going to be so absolutely difficult. Peter didn’t even -- he didn’t know if he believed they could do it.

He watched in surprise as the big alien with weird markings made a show of yawning and Peter watched as his dad who had been stressing out probably since this had all started turned and Peter didn’t have to look at him to know he was annoyed.

“Are you yawning?” Tony asked and his voice was taking that tone that meant he was trying to hold back his anger. “In the middle of this, while I’m breaking it down? Huh? Did you hear what I said?”

“I stopped listening after you said we need a plan.”

Tony turned to Star Lord. “Okay, Mr. Clean is on his own page.”

Star Lord sort of gave a half-shrug. “See, not winging it isn’t really what they do.”

Peter was sort of starting to figure out that they had somehow come upon some really useless people. They weren’t just weird but down right incapable.

“So, uh, what exactly do they do?” Peter asked.

The one with the antenas spoke up before Star Lord could. “Kick names. Take ass,” she said and both she and the other guy tried to look fierce. Peter didn’t even know how to respond to that.

When he looked at his dad, he could tell that Tony felt even worse. There was disbelief mixed up with maybe confusion and annoyance and Peter was surprised when his dad decided to just not comment on it. Maybe he felt like there was nothing that could be said.

“Alright, just get over here please. Mr. Lord, can you get your folks to circle up?”

“Mr. Lord. No, Star Lord is fine,” Star Lord said and Peter was tempted to ask him what his real name was because that just couldn’t be it. One of them had called him Quill earlier, but he seemed to prefer Star Lord.

They ended up in a sort of circle.

“We gotta coalesce,” Tony said and he seemed look at all of them, “cause if all we come at him with is a plucky attitude--”

“Dude, don’t call us plucky,” Star Lord said as if that was important in that moment. “We don’t know what that means.”

Peter wondered if it was worth it to stick with them. Then again, Star Lord had managed to bring him down and hold a gun to his head earlier and they didn’t really know what the other two could do. Peter had to suppose that they had some level of skill to survive in space.

“Alright, we’re optimistic, yes,” Star Lord said when no one said anything. Then, he motioned at Tony. “I like your plan. Except it sucks. So, let me do the plan, and that way it might actually be really good.”

Peter had thought that the posturing he’d seen from Dr. Strange and Tony earlier had been bad. Although in retrospect it had mostly just been funny. This was a whole other thing altogether and Peter didn’t know what to make of it because the whole interaction just kept getting worse and worse especially once a dance-off came up. It made Peter want to ask a bunch of questions that he also sort of didn’t want any answers to because how had these people saved the universe by dancing? And why did Star Lord seemed upset that Footloose wasn’t considered a great movie? No one thought Footloose was a good movie.

Peter -- and probably Tony -- were grateful when their attention turned to Dr. Strange and whatever weird thing that he was in the middle of. Strange was glowing and floating and his face moved from side to side really fast.

Tony knew he was getting frustrated and he hated it. Hated that he didn’t have a team he trusted around him or that trusted him as well for that matter. Well, he might trust Strange -- at least he seemed to have a recognition for how serious it all was. After all, these jokers had been there looking for Gamora whoever that was, and while they seemed to have a notion for who Thanos was, Tony had to wonder if they knew what the stakes of all this were.

Tony had to remind himself that it was them or nothing. That they clearly understood Space better than he or Peter and Strange did and that they clearly did have some skills. If they managed to help him keep Peter alive, Tony would let them say whatever they wanted however they wanted to say it.

Tony hadn’t noticed that Strange went off on his own and that he had gotten lucky enough to not listen to Star Lord and his team. It wasn’t until one of them asked about Strange that Tony even thought about him and then he was rushing towards him.

Strange was jerking rapidly and yet floating with his legs folded as if he were in the middle of some weird meditation which Tony wouldn’t have put past him. Tony could tell that he was using the Time Stone because it was glowing and there was green mist surrounding him.

“Strange, we alright?” Tony asked as he approached him and Strange came out of the trancelike state. He jolted forward as his eyes opened.

Tony rushed towards him, grabbing his arm as he dropped out of the air looking mostly confused. “You’re back. You’re alright,” Tony said, trying to find out if there was anything wrong just by looking at Strange’s face. “Hi.”

For a moment they stared at each other and Tony couldn’t decipher what Strange was thinking or maybe trying to figure out.

“Hey, what was that?” Peter asked, taking Tony’s words before he could get them out. He came up behind Tony and Tony was glad. He wanted to keep Peteras close as possible.

Strange seemed a little winded and he looked a little dishevelled. There was a cut on his forehead from earlier as well as dried blood on parts of his face. It took a moment to answer. “I went forward in time to view alternate futures. To see all the possible outcomes of the coming conflict.”

Of course he did. Tony didn’t know how the Time Stone worked exactly, but Strange had said that it would help them and this was good -- it was what they needed. Strange was thinking like him -- trying to plan ahead.

“How many did you see?” Star Lord asked.

Tony wanted to roll his eyes every time he thought about the name. They’d called him Quill earlier which was probably his real name -- maybe a last name. But Tony didn’t need to concern himself with that. Instead, he focused on Strange.

“Fourteen million six hundred and five,” Strange said and Tony could tell that whatever he’d seen in all those possible futures some of them must not have been good. But not all of them could have been bad--

“How many we win?” Tony asked and he wasn’t sure that he actually wanted the answer.

Strange looked back at him. Their eyes met and there seemed to be some sort of apology there even if Tony didn’t really want to think about what it could mean.

“One,” Strange said.

Oh, were the odds ever in their favor.  

Chapter One Hundred Twenty

[shannaraisles]

Her Beacon And Her Shield - Chapter 17

"And that scream as it went down ..."

An unearthly noise echoed through the hills as the Iron Bull threw back his great horned head and roared to the sky. The Qunari was covered in blood, his shoulder guard in tatters, and limping heavily, but Amelia didn't think she'd ever seen him so happy.

And he wasn't the only one. Their incidental skirmish with the High Dragon that had made her nest in an old ruin near Crestwood hadn't been planned, but it had left them all in a good mood, despite the battering they'd taken. While Iron Bull roared, Sera was laughing, not seeming to mind the fact that her left arm was covered with painful burns. Even Blackwall was swaggering a little. And if she was honest, Amelia felt pretty damned proud of herself, too. They'd taken down a dragon, with no warning and no preparation, and all four had come out of it more or less upright. All right, so she'd been flung bodily through a crumbling wall by the creature's tail, and her advisors were going to yell at her, but come on ... it was a dragon. She, Amelia Rutherford, worst offensive caster in the history of the Ostwick Circle, had killed a High Dragon!

They were on their way back to the nearest camp; the Inquisition presence in the area increased ten-fold since the Inquisitor's small party had engaged the dragon. There would be no bandit ambushes to knock the weakened four back after their major success. With Bull and Sera celebrating as they went, it was a relief to walk beside Blackwall who, while no less delighted with their success, was far less effusive in his own triumph. The Warden had come out of the encounter with nothing more than a singed beard. His had been the hands that had dug her out of the rubble after the dragon lay dead, far more concerned about the state of her than about the fact that Sera's arm was on fire.

"Hey, boss - that spell in the eye?" Bull said over his shoulder. "Good work!"

"I'm so glad you enjoyed it, Bull," Amelia called back with a chuckle, forced to bite down on a louder laugh at Blackwall's response beside her.

"Good work? Saved his bloody life, that did," the Warden muttered, steadying her as she stumbled painfully. "How's he still standing? Damned thing sat on him twice."

"Twice?" she asked with a glassy-eyed smile. "I only saw the first time."

"Of course you did," Blackwall grumbled. "You did spend most of the fight under a wall."

"Not by choice," she laughed, nudging him until he cracked a smile. "Next time we do this, you are definitely coming along."

"Next time?"

"Well, there are a few dragons that need dealing with," she pointed out innocently. "And we do need the practice."

He eyed her levelly for a moment. "If you can walk tomorrow, we'll talk about it," he conceded graciously.

"Spoilsport," she chuckled. "I'm one big bruise, and you know it." Catching the eye of the requisition officer as they entered the camp, she let Blackwall go on ahead of her. "Sergeant ... you may have noticed there's a dragon corpse in the valley."

The sergeant grinned. "Looked a good fight from here, Your Worship."

"I was unconscious for most of it, but we won!" Still buoyed up by that triumph, Amelia giggled happily, unashamed of her sheer delight at the victory. "I want the skull and the scales from the carcass. The rest can go to a naturalist living near here - Judith is her name. She's been very helpful."

"Aye, milady, that we'll do," the sergeant agreed, raising her fist to her chest in salute. "Congratulations."

"Thank you."

"I notice my invitation to the dragon baiting got lost," a familiar voice said at Amelia's ear.

The battered Inquisitor turned as the sergeant moved away, focusing her eyes with some difficulty on the owner of that voice. "Hawke! Who says you need an invitation? You could have joined in at any time."

The Champion of Kirkwall looked her over with a grin. "I decided not to after the dragon tried to teach you how to fly," she chuckled. "I just got here myself. Let's dose you with enough elfroot to sink a dreadnought before we drop in on Stroud."

"I'm not that hurt," Amelia protested, even as she was lead to the campfire and gently forced to sit, wincing at the howl of pain from Sera as the healer got to work on the elf.

"Oh, really? How many fingers?" Hawke held up a hand.

Amelia attempted to focus. There were four ... no, three ... blurry, sausagey shapes in front of her. Or was it six? "All right, maybe I'm a little concussed," she conceded in defeat, taking the vial from the other woman to down it in one. The action of tipping it up sent her crashing backward, landing on her back with her head inside the tent behind her. "The sky's gone."

She heard Hawke chuckle once more, the flap of the tent pushed aside as the Champion heaved her back into a sitting position. "Oh, yes, just a little concussed," the warrior teased gently, handing her another vial of the healing potion. "Slowly this time."

It took an hour, a lot of elfroot, and the determined effort of an Inquisition mage, but eventually Amelia's head was clear enough to look to the whole reason they were in Crestwood in the first place. Iron Bull was laid out on the ground, groaning as one of the scouts manipulated his strained shoulder; Sera had been sedated by the healer after violently attempting to stop the man from doing his job and heal her. That left Blackwall to watch her back - he was more than capable of it, but she couldn't help hoping there wouldn't be any need. Between the horrible throb in her temple, and the stiffening of her much abused limbs, Amelia really wasn't looking forward to wielding her staff again any time soon.

With a promise to the Inquisition soldiers that she'd protect their Inquisitor with her life, Hawke lead the way from the camp, Amelia and Blackwall walking with her. It turned out that the camp itself had been set up just a little way from the hidden smugglers' cave where the Champion's Warden friend was hiding out. The Banner of the Blood Men, a rather notorious group known for selling slaves to Tevinter, was marked up at the cave entrance, but the bloodstains suggested that the Warden within had been very persuasive in claiming the cave for himself. That violence explained why, within a few moments of entering, Amelia found herself looking along the blade of a sword leveled at her nose.

Blackwall reacted instantly, drawing his own sword in response as he stepped in front of her. "Easy now," he said, meeting the eyes of the Grey Warden before them.

"It's just us," Hawke assured her friend, her hands held up peaceably. "I brought the Inquisitor. And this is Blackwall, another free Warden."

Haunted eyes studied the three of them before the Warden reacted, sheathing his sword smoothly. "Forgive my suspicion, brother," he apologized to Blackwall, raising his gaze to Amelia before inclining his head. "My name is Stroud, and I am at your service, Inquisitor."

"Understandable," was Blackwall's terse response, but though he put up his own sword, he stayed close to Amelia. A hunted man was never wholly trustworthy, as he well knew.

"A pleasure, Warden Stroud," Amelia greeted the man. "I'll take all the help I can get. I know the Wardens have troubles of their own." She considered him thoughtfully. "There is some speculation that these troubles might have something to do with Corypheus."

Stroud sighed heavily. "I fear it is so," he conceded, his grief at the situation making his Orlesian tones more pronounced. "When my friend here slew Corypheus, Weisshaupt was happy to put the matter to rest. But an archdemon can survive wounds that seem fatal, and I feared Corypheus might possess the same power. My investigation uncovered clues, but no proof." He fell silent, but the quality of that silence felt ominous, borne out as he spoke again. "Not long after, every Warden in Orlais began to hear the Calling."

"You never told me," Hawke said softly, her expression dark with sympathy, and Amelia recalled that Anders, the apostate mage who had destroyed the Chantry in Kirkwall and started all this madness between templars and mages, had been a Grey Warden himself. Of course Hawke would immediately understand what others did not.

"It was a Grey Warden matter," Stroud told his friend sadly. "I was bound by an oath of secrecy."

"Forgive me for asking, but ... what is the Calling?" Amelia spoke up, uncomfortable with an inquiry that felt as though she was prying. "Is it some sort of Grey Warden ritual?"

The Warden turned his haunted eyes back to her. "The Calling tells a Warden that the Blight will soon claim him," he explained, despite his obvious reluctance. "It starts with dreams, then come whispers in his head. The Warden says his farewells, and goes to the Deep Roads to meet his death in combat."

"Maker's breath ..." Amelia's eyes turned instinctively to Blackwall, sudden fear for her friend's state of mind clear in her gaze. Had he been hearing this the whole time? He avoided meeting her eyes, his expression carefully blank.

"And every Warden in Orlais is hearing that right now?" Hawke was horrified. "They think they're dying?"

"Yes," Stroud confirmed in a dull tone. "Likely because of Corypheus. If the Wardens fall, who will stand against the next Blight? It is our greatest fear."

"So thanks to the Calling, Corypheus has them scared." Hawke shook her head. "They're playing right into his hands."

"Is the Calling they're hearing real, or is Corypheus mimicking it somehow?" Amelia asked, hoping it was the latter. That gave them a chance to save the Grey Wardens of Orlais.

"I know not." Stroud sighed, shaking his head. "Even as a senior Warden, I have heard only the vaguest whispers of Corypheus. The Wardens believe that this Calling is real, and they will act accordingly. That is all we know for certain."

Amelia's frown deepened. "You said all Wardens are hearing the Calling," she said worriedly. "Does that include you?"

"Sadly, yes." Stroud passed a weary hand over his face. "It lurks like a wolf in the shadows around a campfire," he said in a dark tone. "The creature that makes this music had never known the love of the Maker, but ... at times, I almost understand it. We must uncover what Corypheus has done and end it. It cannot stand."

His brooding description did nothing to calm her fears. "Blackwall?" she asked, looking to her friend. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Her bearded friend offered her a bleak smile. "I do not fear the Calling, and worrying about it only gives it power," he told her confidently. "Anything Corypheus does will only strengthen my resolve." When her worried expression did not clear, he touched her hand gently. "Don't you worry for me, my lady. I've plenty of reason not to give in."

"You have rare strength, my brother," Stroud praised him. "Even I have considered the Deep Roads on dark nights."

"I'm not strong," Blackwall replied, but he did not go on. He'd said his piece; Amelia was used to these unfinished responses by now.

Reassured that he wasn't suffering greatly, she turned her mind back to the topic at hand, meeting Stroud's gaze. "How can Corypheus make all these Wardens hear the Calling?"

He shook his head, as mystified as she was. "I cannot say," he admitted ruefully. "We know little about him, save that he is dangerous. He is a magister, as well as a darkspawn, and speaks with the voice of the Blight. That lets him affect the minds of Wardens, since we are tied to the Blight ourselves. It must be how he created this false Calling."

"So the Wardens are making some last, desperate attack on the darkspawn?" she asked in concern. There were a hundred things that could go wrong with such an attack, even if Corypheus wasn't involved.

"We are the only ones who can slay archdemons," Stroud reminded her solemnly. "Without us, the next Blight will consume the world."

"But what can we possibly do to prevent more Blights?" Blackwall demanded, justifiably alarmed in Amelia's opinion.

"Warden-Commander Clarel spoke of a blood magic ritual to prevent future Blights before we all perish," Stroud told him, nodding at Hawke's shocked inhalation and Amelia's muttered curse. Blood magic, for whatever purpose, never ended well. "Madness, I know. But when I protested the plan, my own comrades turned on me."

"When is she planning to perform this ritual?" Amelia asked him.

"After Satinalia," he answered. "She needs the time to gather as many Wardens as possible. Here." He drew her over to a map laid out on a stained table. "In the Western Approach, there is an ancient Tevinter ritual tower. Meet me there, and we will find answers."

She hesitated, knowing other tasks could be accomplished before then. "If they're not expected to be there until after Satinalia," she said carefully, "- which I have to spend at the Winter Palace to end a war, anyway - then you have time to come back to Skyhold with us. Talk with my commander, my spymaster, and let us see to your safety for a while. With Wardens hunting you, nowhere is safe. Nowhere but the Inquisition."

"She's right, Stroud," Hawke agreed unexpectedly. "You're exhausted, and the Wardens who were here were far too close for comfort. We have a time frame, and at Skyhold, we'll have access to scouts and spies. Perhaps we can find other Wardens who feel the way you and Blackwall do. We could offer them sanctuary. Couldn't we?"

This last was aimed at Amelia, who was already nodding. "Of course," she said firmly. "I didn't let the templars just fade away into Corypheus' shadow; I won't do any less for the Wardens. There's no way of knowing how far Corypheus' Calling has spread."

Stroud considered them both for a long moment. "You are generous," he said finally. "It has been a struggle, I do not deny it. I accept your offer, Inquisitor. You have my thanks."

"And you, mine," she countered in a fervent tone. "Without your courage, we wouldn't know to be wary of the Grey Wardens. I hope theirs is a path we can set on a better course."

"That you even think to try is commendable," the Warden answered. "If you plan to leave in the morning, I will remain here for tonight. Your victory over the dragon will be celebrated in your camp, but I fear I have no heart for celebration."

Amelia smiled sadly. "I understand. Hawke?"

"I'll stay here with Stroud," the Champion told her. "Though the group you saw moved on, there may still be Wardens in the area. Your camp is a little too far for an immediate response in the event of an attack. We'll meet you there at dawn."

"I'll have some food sent up for you," Amelia promised, understanding Hawke's caution well. The ache in her temple was worsening, however. "I am feeling the need to lie down, so we will take our leave. Warden Stroud ... Hawke."

Outside, in the sunshine, she sagged against her staff, saved from an embarrassing fall by Blackwall's hand at her elbow.

"Easy does it, my lady," he murmured to her. "You've had a busy day."

She leaned gratefully into him as he guided her back down the crude path from the cave. "Did I do the right thing, offering the Wardens sanctuary?"

"Can't know for sure," Blackwall told her quietly. "There'll be some who take the offer just for a chance to kill Stroud. But most who do will be trustworthy." He seemed tense as he spoke, but that could only be because Stroud had confirmed it was Corypheus haunting his dreams. That would unsettle anyone.

"And you're sure you can endure this Calling?" she asked once more. "I won't hold you to your oath if it causes you pain."

"I'm a Marcher, my lady," he reminded her with a grin. "We're made of sterner stuff than these southerners."

Despite herself, she laughed, reassured by his stubborn comedy. She already had one man in her life struggling with demons; she was glad she didn't have another. But Stroud had been right about one thing. Though the celebration that night was warm and full throated, she didn't have the heart to make merry with her men. After all, what was a High Dragon when compared with Corypheus? Yet she resolved to return to the search for Samson before Josephine managed to pin her to Skyhold for etiquette lessons. Any blow they could land against Corypheus was important. Removing his general might go some way toward leveling the playing field. Maker knew they needed a victory, and soon. If the Wardens had fallen to the Elder One's influence ... this fight had just become a good deal worse.