#Seventeen/Arell

[varpusvaras]

Seventeen has always hated waking up after something has happened.

It doesn't matter what it had been. Not if it had been Seventeen getting his bones reset or if he had been in bacta for weeks on end. It doesn't matter. Waking up from anything that has even remotely something to do with his body being unwell in any capacity has always been, and still is, one of the things he really, truly hates.

It always includes feeling heavy, tired and confused. Even if the injury had not been on his head, whatever medicine he had been pumped full would do the trick of making his memory spotty and his thoughts slow. Even if he had been asleep for hours, days or weeks, he would still always feel like he had not rested ever in his entire life. He would always feel weak, his body having seemingly forgotten how to move or how to regulate his temperature, as he would always be trembling and shivering.

He feels all of those now too. The way his eyelids feel too heavy to open in the first place. The way some stray draught makes his entire body feel like it's freezing. The way none of his limbs or even his fingers want to do what he wants them to do. The way his head feels like it has been stuffed full of something soft to insulate any and every cavity there is on the inside of his skull.

The way he has no idea what has even happened.

Still, he forces his eyes to open and to stay open. Seventeen stares at the ceiling and countes to ten. It's not the ceiling of any of the rooms in his house. He countes to twenty. No, it looks a lot like all the ceilings in every single medbay he has ever been in. Safe to assume that he's not home, then.

He counts to thirty, and then forces his head to turn.

Arell is sitting there, right beside the bed Seventeen is laying on. He is sleeping, with his arms crossed and a deep furrow on his face.

Flashes start to come back to Seventeen then, as he watches Arell sleep there on a hard medbay chair. Flashes of the floor. How he had ended up there in the first place. Of his legs just giving up from underneath him. Of how he had been unable to move, unable to get up, because his whole body had turned into one single point of scorching pain.

Flashes of him being peeled off from the floor, of the backseat of the speeder. Of- Seventeen pauses.

Flashes of him thinking why Arell is there, when he shouldn't have been home from work yet. Of his commlink ringing, ringing, ringin and ringing, somewhere that had been unreachable for Seventeen as he had laid on the floor, paralyzed by the pain.

Seventeen stares at Arell, sleeping on the uncomfortable medbay chair, right next to Seventeen's bed, and the thought that Arell had come home after Seventeen had not picked up, just to make sure that he is okay enters his brain like a searing wound.

Something slams against the inside of Seventeen's chest. He isn't sure if it was actually there or if he is just imagining it.

He doesn't have the time to think about it. He is too busy trying to make his sluggish mind to comprehend the thought Arell had come for him, and that for some reason, Seventeen likes that thought.

There's another slam. No, Seventeen is definitely feeling it.

His heart had not slammed itself against his insides even when there had been a lightsaber cutting through his body. Not like this.

Seventeen stares at Arell, sleeping on the uncomfortable medbay chair, right next to Seventeen's bed, and he wonders how the hell he has gotten here.

Seventeen sighs, too tired to put any of his frustrations to it yet.

Damn it.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

From the Ashes - Chapter Thirty Three.

So, here we are, then. The last chapter. I have to say, I miss writing these two, I’d become quite attached to them, silly as it sounds! I can only hope everyone reading it truly enjoyed it as much, if not more, than I did creating the story. Thank you to everyone who has liked, reblogged and offered commentary. It means the world to me :)

Tag list - @breakmeaswitchson @madbaddic7ed @ruelf-emedam @brexfrix @ xxphoenixflyerxx  @ur-royal-thighness @geekyweed @holyhumorliteraturelight @jinaaaannnnn @alliyjane @notso-fetch @zoe-rachel-crisp @glowien @tranquility-or-chaos @bucky-did-nothing-wrong @shileen91 @boiled-onionrings @helloitsmeaime203 @cheritzie @hm-fck @mary-ann84 @skylarmorgan1899 @alwayshave-faith @alliyjane @shyen18 @shadesofarrogance @justjulie1105 @soulmatelove96 @agniavateira @stormnightsong @xmother-mortemx​ @gamingaquarius​ @pansexualpancakeslife @ jesseswartzwelder @elixasays​

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen Twenty Twenty One Twenty Two Twenty Three Twenty Four Twenty Five Twenty Six Twenty Seven Twenty Eight Twenty Nine Thirty Thirty One Thirty Two

Chapter Thirty Three

Two years later.

Closing the animals into the barn for the night, Arelle pulled her big scarf around her neck a little tighter, the first winter chill sharp against her skin. Looking up to the sky as she walked back to her home, she saw the first flakes of snow beginning to drift through the air, decorating the dark sky.  

Entering her house she was greeted by Star, the big, black wolf nuzzling her hand affectionately. She had wondered how she would take to being around livestock, of course no matter how domesticated she was still a natural predator, but the wolf understood whom she could and couldn’t eat. There was no way Arelle could part with her, the last little bit she had left of her father.  

Indris had sadly been a casualty of the war, forcing Clauda to take the portal out of there before him, staying behind to make sure as many women and children left before he was prepared to. His selflessness ultimately led to him leaving the mortal realm in the same way his wife and other children had, dying in battle against the Vulc.  

Arelle had been inconsolable upon arriving at her brother’s home to be told, only suffering the loss of her home two days before. Her grief was so overwhelming that Geralt had drugged her with the same potion he’d used in the past to keep her asleep, putting her to bed in their tent. ‘She’s gone through too much. First Daida, then her home and now her father. One person can only suffer so much at once’ he’d told Davrin, who agreed.  

“Look, fresh mutton, just for you!” she told Star, throwing her a raw leg, the wolf catching it gratefully before padding back into the lounge, leaving Arelle to serve herself some mutton stew from the cauldron over the kitchen fireplace and join her.  

Her new home, just on the borders of the huge forest which stretched through Fenris Morr all the way to Rhinegaff, was beautiful. Spacious and built well, it was filled with everything she could ever want, except one very specific thing at that moment.

“He’ll be home soon, girl. Look at you, you miss him nearly as much as I do.” She told Star, who after eating her sheep’s leg sat and looked at the front door expectantly, waiting for her master to walk back through it.  

Geralt had been gone for three months, out on a hunting mission somewhere across the north east of the Continent. He liked to stay in the north, finding enough work to keep him busy and never wanting to be a few week’s ride away from Arelle at any given point unless he could really help such.  

The truth was, neither were short of money after the war, but both stuck to their pledges not to cramp one another. They were both very independent people, after all. Their monetary gain came in the form of the new queen of the Grey Mountains rewarding them for their efforts, showing them favour. Of course she would, queen Florie considered Arelle and Geralt to be amongst her closest friends.  

Their reward came in the form of her ransacking the royal treasury, giving them coins and gold in the kind of abundance that would mean they’d be financially set for building their new home, acquiring land and animals and being able to save for the future. ‘It is the least I can do. Your refusal to reveal yourself as the true killer of Mardryk is why I am on the throne in the first place’ Florie told Geralt at the time.  

He’d replied that with her level head, strength and good heart, whether it was he who had truly ended Mardryk or not, she deserved to be queen. She was a hero to the people of the Grey Mountains, the queen who had done what her predecessor should have so many years ago.  

She’d taken his praise with furious blushing, halting him just before they left the vault when it was just them alone and giving him a hug of thanks. ‘I also want to give something to you, but you mustn’t show Arelle’ she’d then whispered, before pressing a jewel into his hand.  

‘It’s a fire onyx, Arelle’s favourite gem. She’s always wanted a piece of jewellery with one set into it, but with its cost and rarity she’s never been able to afford such. Kesrin had a staggering amount of hoarded jewels, but I knew this one should be Arelle’s as soon as I saw it. When the time is right you can have it set into an engagement ring for her. I assume that is where your relationship is heading.’  

He confirmed that it was, that one day he did intend on making Arelle his wife but was in no rush to do such at that moment before pocketing the jewel and leaving the vault with the queen. The north had been restored to its former glory thanks to Florie’s generosity with the contents of the vault, decreeing that the riches within far exceeded anything she would ever need in her long lifetime.

Homes were rebuilt, families who had lost their loved ones to the war financially compensated also in thanks for such sacrifice. Florie was a popular monarch, beloved by her people but still so down to earth. It was not an out of place right to see the queen nip into a local tavern with her guardsmen to enjoy a few drinks amongst her people.  

Sadly though, her taking the throne had meant her budding romance with Jaskier had to end. He being a human would of course be frowned upon considerably, especially by Florie’s parents, who were high born sprites and expected her to marry her own kind and class. It would have caused scandal, for the queen of the Grey Mountains to be seen in a relationship with a man neither or her kind nor class.  

There was a place for him at court though, as the queen’s bard. This meant he got to see a fair amount of Geralt whenever he travelled to Rhinegaff, liking that he wasn’t far from his grumpy old friend. The truth was though, the friend he’d met so many years ago was nowhere near as grumpy as he once was. Geralt would never be a jolly fellow, but finding Arelle had thawed his frostiness somewhat.  

He loved her immeasurably, just as she did him. Geralt had been the one to help her overcome her losses at the end of the war, staying at home in the north for the eight months it took for their new home to be built, making sure it was finished and she was feeling comfortable before he left her for the first time.  

She was perfectly content, filling their new home with furnishings and busying herself with the purchase of livestock. Those seven weeks he was away for flew by as she’d rebuilt a life for not just her, but him too. Sitting in an armchair she had had made to look exactly like the one she lost, Arelle sat and stared at the firelight after eating her dinner, thinking how lucky she was.

Yes, she’d faced a lot of loss in her short life, but the things she had gained, a loving man in Geralt, a beautiful new home and the kind of farm she’d always dreamed of having, they were definitely bringers of contentment which made for a happy life. Two years on and the horrors of war seemed very far away. She’d never forget though.  

There was a small patch on her ankle that she’d missed when healing her wounds with Nilhir’s tears, a little burn that she often sat and stroked, remembering all those months she’d spent away at war. She found herself thinking of them that night too, curled up by the fire with Star’s humongous head in her lap.  

“I have to stop doing this.” She said upon waking the following morning, finding she’d fallen asleep in the armchair. Again. She often did when Geralt was away, not liking to be within their huge bed by herself so much.  

Star howled at the door to be let out, the giant wolf hurtling from the house once Arelle had put on her boots, doing the morning rounds while her wolf ran off to explore the forest, as she often did throughout the day. Her favourite time was at night though, out with her mistress hunting.  

That evening was no exception, bounding around the forest after Arelle, the spite nimbly jumping through the trees, both then stopping and becoming silent when presented with a kill. That night though, the last stag they were hunting would get away, disturbed by another large beast coming through the darkness of the forest.  

Arelle couldn’t help herself, remembering back to three years ago as she took an arrow from her quiver and pulled it back in her bow…  

“What kind of fool fires arrows around in the near darkness?” Geralt remembered too, it seemed, speaking those same words to her as he had on the night they’d first met.  

“This fool over here, the one who loves you,” she replied, bouncing over the ground to meet him while Star ran after the spooked stag.  

“Well, as long as it’s you,” he told her, jumping down from Roach’s back and catching her in his arms. They might have been just fine with spending long periods of time apart, but that didn’t mean they missed one another any less. “How are you, tiny beauty?”

“I’m well, I’ve just had a fantastically fruitful hunt. One stag, one older doe and two boars. How are you? Your face! What happened here?” she asked with concern, kissing him a few times before looking at the stitched gash leading down from his ear to his jaw.  

“Would you believe it was a Vulc? A very stupid and very nearly dead young man had been keeping it chained up to use as intimidation in order to extort money out of people. Until it escaped, that is. In my haste to shoo Roach away after encountering it riding from one village to the next during my search, it got too close and almost took my face with it.”  

Looking a little closer, Arelle could see his wounds extended to his neck as well, shuddering with how close they’d come to leaving him mortally wounded. The rest of the Vulc had been hunted down and slaughtered just a few months after the end of the war, so it was shocking to hear of one still being alive, even more so that someone had been idiotic enough to keep it as a macabre pet.

“I cannot fathom such idiocy, to keep one of those hideous creatures alive. How many chains did it take to hold it? How did he even capture it in the first place? Actually, I don’t wish to know. You returning to me in one piece is all I care about,” she told him, kissing him longingly as she felt his arms wrap around her.  

They headed back to their house, taking her hunting kills into the out building to gut and clean them properly, Arelle quickly taking the largest boar and the doe to the local tavern to meet the local innkeeper who wanted to purchase them, coming back to find Geralt hanging the stag pelt.  

After finishing preparing the carcases and washing, they exited the out building, Geralt putting his fingers to his lips and letting out a piercing series of whistles. Waiting a few moments, he then heard a howl in the distance. Star knew her master had returned.  

He caught the huge wolf much the same way he had Arelle, Star yapping excitedly as she waged her tail frenziedly and licked his face.  

“Yes, I’m pleased to see you too, you smelly creature. Your breath smells awful, as usual.” He told her, displeasure all over his face except for his smile. He loved the wolf more than he’d ever admit to anyone.  

Once inside, Geralt made a start to prepare himself a bath while Arelle began dinner, having him do his usual helpful hindrance routine by stealing vegetables as she chopped them, receiving smacks to the chest for pilfering slices of raw carrots.  

“Make yourself of use and pluck the chicken! Go!” she scolded, shoving him in the direction on the dead bird.  

“Are you still saving the feathers?” he asked, retaliating by pinching her on the side of the ribcage, where she utterly hated to be touched. After she’d finished screaming and giggling at such, she confirmed that yes, she was. She’d been using them to stuff pillows and little decorative cushions with, two items she took to the Rhinegaff markets with her to sell upon her stall.  

Once all of the food preparation was done, Geralt happily sank into the bath, drinking mead straight from the bottle and soon being joined by Arelle. Her bathtub had been one of the items to survive the collapse of her former cottage, a few dents needed hammering out but otherwise, it was fine.

With his love resting against his chest, his aches being soothed by the hot water while he watched snow tumbling from the sky outside, he was the picture of an extremely content man. There was one point in his life where he would not have entertained what he had with Arelle whatsoever, but being with her was absolutely effortless.  

They by no means had a perfect relationship, their tempers flared at times and they couldn’t stand the sight of one another, but such moments were few and far between. What they had was special and they both cherished one another dearly, having deep and profound love, respect and admiration of one another.  

Then, of course, there was what had attracted them in the first place, the chemistry that had led to them tearing one another’s clothes off mere minutes after they’d met for the first time. What they shared physically was still very much magmatic.  

That night after bathing and eating, the sexual fires between them burned well into the small hours, both lying there afterwards in the candlelight, stroking one another as they talked.  

“This smile,” she commented, stroking his face before kissing him tenderly. “I adore that this smile is just for me.”  

“It will never be for anyone else, my love,” he replied, kissing the tip of her nose, his fingers wrapping her hair around them as he basked in her adoration, very happy to be reunited with her once more. Having her warm little body pressed against his was what he missed most on the long, cold nights without her.  

“What on earth is that tapping noise? I could hear it while we were having sex, but I was too busy enjoying myself to investigate,” she then suddenly stated, sitting up with a puzzled frown as the sound became audible again.

“It sounds like it’s coming from the window,” he told her, Arelle getting up to investigate. Opening the thick curtain she looked around, noticing the snow still coming down plentifully as the ivy that decorated the front of their home swayed in the wind. It was that which she noticed to be causing the noise, or more precisely something that was tied to it.  

Opening the window she reached out into the cold and caught the piece of ribbon tied tightly to the vines, undoing the bow and bringing the ring tied to it back inside. Looking at it properly, she gasped at its beauty, a large fire onyx twinkling its beautiful orange hue from the otherwise pitch blackness of the stone.  

She was absolutely overcome at seeing a piece of jewellery so beautiful, but what truly shocked her to the bone was turning around to see Geralt out of bed and down on one knee.

“Will you marry me, Arelle?”  

“You…you…” she began, eyes wide, hardly able to speak. “I absolutely did not think you had it in you, to be this adorably romantic!” she then continued, wiping her eyes as her tears flowed. “Yes.”  

With that, he took the ring from her and slid it onto her finger, relieved that it fit. Standing up he pulled her close to him, stroking her back as he kissed her. “You’re supposed to stop crying now,” he whispered, making her giggle.  

“I can’t! How dare you be so lovely and force me to succumb to my emotions by being the most wonderful, loving man I have ever met!” she exclaimed through her laughter and tears, examining her ring. “And this? This is the most beautiful ring I have ever seen. I adore it, just as I adore you.”  

To this, he smiled, picking her up and carrying her back to bed, whispering how much he loved her as he stroked and kissed her all over, more enamoured with her than ever before.  

They were married the following spring, their ceremony small and simple, held at the top of one of the waterfalls that flanked the palace and attended by a small number of guests. There, they promised each other love, fidelity, devotion and respect, from that day until their last day, kissing each other with joy as they were pronounced husband and wife.  

From that day on, they both lived a life full of contentment, adventure and sometimes a lot of danger, their long lives together seeing through many notable events, their love for one another burning brighter as the centuries rolled past.  

They had just under four hundred happy years together, until sadly the last day came for Geralt. Just like he once predicted as a younger man, it was his work as a witcher that lead to his demise, glad that he at least managed to return home to his wife with the little strength he had left.  

Arelle cared for him just as she always had, sadly knowing her beloved husband likely would not survive his wounds. Curling up with his warmth next to her one night, she awoke in the morning to find her love cold, his beautiful amber eyes fixed in the glaze of death. As her eyes blinked tears onto his face, she shut them as she kissed him one final time, utterly heartbroken that he was gone.  

She lived out the rest of her life, another five hundred years, without ever taking another lover, let alone remarrying. She told her family she would never love another like she loved Geralt, her kin understanding. Their love for one another was famed for being one of the greatest, after all.  

At nine hundred and ninety-six years old, Arelle took her final breath in the home she and Geralt had built so long ago, closing her eyes and slipping away from the world she knew, her spirit taking her into another, but one which was all too familiar.  

Looking around, she found herself back in the forest she’d once lived, seeing the familiar sight of her old cottage she’d built as a young sprite up ahead, the chimney smoking as the windows glowed from the fire and candlelight within.  

Looking down at her hands, she no longer saw the withered, spotted hands of an older sprite, but those of youth. In her death, she was young again, as she was so many hundreds of years ago. She walked slowly to the cottage, looking all around, the sights and smells familiar and welcoming, but none more so than the one who opened the door.

“Welcome home, my love,” Geralt told her, looking just as he had when they first met. “I’ve been waiting a long time for you.” There he was, her endless, forever love, at long last. She truly was home.  

She beamed at him happily, stepping inside and closing the door behind her. Love swelled richly in her heart as she sank into his arms and kissed him, reunited with him for all eternity as outside, the snow slowly began to fall.

The End.  

[varpusvaras]

Seventeen every time Arell does something nice for him and he catches himself having even the smallest crumbs of happy feelings

[varpusvaras]

Seventeen stares at Arell. He has to bite his teeth together so hard it feels like they are breaking in order to not to continue saying anything more, no matter how much he wants to do so. Let the bastard say what he wants in turn, and then Seventeen can continue and finish this and do whatever he wants afterwards.

Arell stares right back. He is holding back, Seventeen can see it, because he has forced his face to be expressionless, but Seventeen can still see the contempt in his eyes. He stays quiet for one, two, three, five, ten seconds, and Seventeen wants to fucking strangle him already-

"Just cry", Arell says.

Seventeen feels something twist inside his head.

"What?" He snarls.

"Just cry", Arell repeats. "There's no need for you to stand there and throw insults at me. Just cry like a normal person."

Seventeen wants to go over there and strangle him right now.

"In case you have not noticed already, I am not-"

"Shut the hell up with that already." There is emotion now on Arell's face. His mouth is contorted into a disgusted sneer. "I am not a normal person, shut the hell up. You are just a person, just a human being, there is nothing special about you. There are billions of you all over the fucking Galaxy, and you have the nerve to stand in front of me and tell me that you are somehow special, somehow different from all of them? No, you are not. You are a regular human being that the Galaxy has been kicking to the head for your entire life, and what you are supposed to do now is to be a normal person and cry about it!"

Seventeen wants to fucking kill him.

"Shut up", he says. He isn't yelling. He doesn't do yelling.

"What?" Arell scoffs. "You don't like hearing the truth? That you are not some unfeeling killing machine, too good for normal people stuff? Well that's too bad, because that is what you need to hear, and I am telling you that right now. You are not special. You are just a human!"

"Shut up." Seventeen is not yelling. He doesn't do yelling. Yelling doesn't do anything.

Neither does crying.

"Or what?" Arell asks. He stares right at Seventeen, unmoving, challenging, like Seventeen is not a highly trained soldier, bred for war, capable of snapping his neck with his bare hands if he wants to. He is staring at Seventeen like Seventeen is just a regular person, living their regular life and a normal house, doing menial daily tasks like laundry and dishes and cooking and cleaning because that is what his life is.

There's a stab at Seventeen's abdomen. A phantom pain that wants to spread like a fire to the rest of his body.

"Or what?" Arell repeats, like he can see it, like he knows that Seventeen is not a threat to him, because he is a broken product that has been cast aside because he is of no use anymore.

"Shut up!" Seventeen is not yelling. He does not do yelling. Yelling helps nothing. Neither does crying.

"Or what!" Arell takes a step forward. Seventeen stands his ground, no matter how much his body is burning, no matter how much it is telling him to just collapse to the ground and lay there and scream. "Or what, Seventeen? What are you going to do? You can't keep running away from this! You have already lost the first half of your life, do you want to keep wasting the rest of it away too, pretending to be something you are not?"

"Shut up!" There is fire everywhere. "Shut up! You don't know anything!"

"I know enough!" Arell is standing in front of him and looking down at him. "I know that you are a human! That's all I need to know! That's all that you need to know! Now cry, damn it!"

Seventeen screams.

He is being stabbed through his abdomen, with a blade that is hotter than all the blaster bolts he has ever shot in his entire life, and his legs stop working and he falls to the ground, both numb and on fire, and he heaves the air in and out, like it is supposed to help, but nothing helps, nothing ever does, he has tried, he has tried and nothing ever does, he doesn't need it, he needs to just keep going-

There is a strange noise coming from somewhere. It's guttural and sorrowful. Angry and frustrated. Pitiful and pleading. Seventeen knows the noise. It's how all the cadets had sounded like when they would fall down, bruised and beaten by everything, tired and angry and scared about everything happening around them and to them. They would wail like that, asking for help, and it never helped anyone.

Seventeen listens to it, wondering what had been the cause this time. If it had been the ten hours of training, if it had been the trainers screaming insults for every missed mark, if it had been the pains of a body that had been growing too fast and kept changing even faster. If it had been the fear of what was to come. If it had been the nightmares of death plaguing them even when they were awake.

It never helped. Nothing would change if you cried. No one would ever help. It was pointless. All you could do had been to just stand up and keep going, no matter what.

Seventeen can't stand up.

He listens to the crying.

There are no cadets there. Not even other clones. None other than him.

Seventeen is on the floor and he cries and he can't stand up.

There are hands on him. They pull him straighter and then drag him forwards, and then there are arms wrapping around him.

Crying had never helped. There had been no arms to hold you if you cried. The only thing you could do had been to stand up and keep going.

It's wrong. It's not how this is supposed to go. There isn't supposed to be anyone there. It's not supposed to help.

Arell sits on the floor in front of him and holds him.

It's wrong. There isn't supposed to be anyone there. It's not supposed to help.

It's not-

"I hate you", Seventeen cries.

"That's okay", Arell says.

It's not supposed to-

"I hate you", Seventeen cries.

"That's okay", Arell says, again.

Seventeen cries.

[varpusvaras]

Also, regarding my Seventeen cottagecore housewife au: one of the reasons (the biggest one) why he accepts the marriage offer is because that means he doesn't need to ask help from anyone who knows him. Doesn't matter if this guy knows he needs meds and therapy and whatever. Seventeen doesn't care about him and he does not care about Seventeen.

So Seventeen gets married, packs whatever he has to pack up, and moves in to god knows where. Doesn't tell anybody. All the other Alphas and the CCs completely FREAK OUT because Seventeen has just vanished. They definitely commit a few federal crimes and a break in.

[varpusvaras]

Seventeen: Sex is stupid. You all are stupid. The only contact I'm going to have with someone is out of obligation or when I'm punching them

Arell, getting up on his personal space while they're having an argument:

Seventeen:

Seventeen: Do you want to punch me

Arell: What the fuck-

[varpusvaras]

Seventeen: What's my name?

Chere, Wina, Riya, Runé: Buir 🥰

Seventeen: And what's your dad's name?

Chere, Wina, Riya, Runé: ARELLLLLLLLLLL!

[varpusvaras]

Arell and Seventeen thoughts: they are both morning people. Seventeen is just aggressively a morning person. Not because he likes waking up early, mind you. He just kinda has to.

Arell says it looks like he is fighting the morning every single day. Seventeen tells Arell to fight him.

Once they start sleeping in the same bed Arell realises that he has to start waking up at least five minutes before Seventeen, so that he is, indeed, ready to fight him when Seventeen tries to get out of the bed at four thirty. No, you're not getting up, put your head back down and go back to sleep- I said put your head- I SAID-!

Seventeen tries every single dirty move he knows during the ensuing wrestling match. Unlucky for him, Arell is a lawyer. He fights dirty for a living.

[varpusvaras]

Arell opens the door.

He steps in and ducks, catching Chere by the boy's waist as he is on his way to fly over his head.

Then he takes a step to the left, because Wina is jumping out from behind the door, and she misses just by that one step, and Arell lets go of Chere to use his other hand to grab the back of her shirt.

"Too slow, both of you", he says, finally stepping properly in and pushing the door close with his foot. He throws both of them on to the couch. If they had been pouting just a second before, they are not anymore, and are instead shrieking with laughter as he sends them flying in the air over the backrest.

He turns around as Riya jumps onto the backrest of the armchair and launches himself towards him. He lands straight into Arells waiting arms.

"You too", Arell says, and throws him onto the couch as well, which earns more high-pitched laughter for him.

Seventeen has been standing next to the table this whole time, chopping through a rather impressive amount of vegetables, and Arell turns towards him now.

"Where's the last one?" He asks.

"You'll never see her coming", Seventeen answers.

"Sure", Arell says, and he walks to Seventeen and is about to press the one allowed "in front off the kids" kiss of the day on Seventeen's temple, when Runé runs from behind Seventeen's legs with quick, wavering steps that look more like uncontrolled falling down than running, and she grabs onto Arell's leg and looks up at him with a huge, mostly still gummy grin on her face.

Arell has to grin back at her.

"Tiny one-year-olds", he says. "My only weakness."

[varpusvaras]

It's getting late.

Seventeen stares at the screen. He's not exactly sure what they are watching anymore. They had sat down to watch the newest episode of Call the Pilot, which Seventeen still can't believe he's watching voluntarily. Most of the characters are more or less annoying, but the old Twi'lek doctor is at least funny enough for him to enjoy the rest of it as well.

The episode has ended a long time ago. Seventeen thinks what's on now is a documentary about- something. Doesn't really matter. He's not concentrating to any of it. It's just colors on the screen and words he cannot understand. Still, he sits there and stares at it, not able to make himself move or even pick up anything else to do- he does that a lot now, doesn't he? Does something with his hands. He's incapable of staying still these days. Before, he could focus on one point for hours, but now he thinks he would get bored after just a few minutes.

He's losing his touch. It's infuriating.

He's not doing anything now, though. Not that he's focusing on anything either.

A mass of something moves in front of the screen. Seventeen blinks.

Arell is staring at him, unimpressed, his dark eyes unmoving. Seventeen stares right back.

A short silence stretches between them, before Seventeen remembers that he can, in fact, move.

"What?" He asks, scowling.

Something relaxes ever so slightly in Arell's expression. It's barely noticeable.

"You need to take your medication soon", he says. "I read the instructions. They said that you can't take them to empty stomach."

"So?" Seventeen glares at him. "I'm not taking them to empty stomach."

"You are not, since I made food", Arell says. "It's in the kitchen."

It strikes him as odd, for a brief moment. Arell doesn't enjoy cooking. He barely tolerates standing in the kitchen in order to put the water to boil to make the tea he likes.

Then Seventeen decides it's not worth thinking about. Arell can do whatever the hell he wants. It's not any of Seventeen's business.

He gets up. His legs still work.

Arell follows him into the kitchen. They don't speak to each other while they pick up their plates and sit down at the table, and Arell turns the volume higher on the documentary. It's about desert ecosystems in the Galaxy.

Seventeen eats his soup while listening to the narrator talking about moisture cycles and their importance to the local fauna. When he gets up to take his medication, there's a full glass of water next to them.

Seventeen takes it and takes his medication. He puts the water to boil before he walks out of the kitchen.

[varpusvaras]

Arell about to show up at Kamino like ‘knock knock motherfucker, its a lawsuit’

Oh he is suing them SO hard. Or, like, the Vode are suing them, Arell is just one of the representatives in that lawsuit, but still. He takes so much joy in getting to grill them (he disliked them waaaay before he met Seventeen, and Seventeen just made him even more angry). Really this au is half Seventeen going to therapy and learning to live a peaceful life, and the other half is a high-stakes courtroom drama lmao

[varpusvaras]

Wait, i feel like i’ve missed something. How did Alpha 17 end up a housewife?

This is my favourite idea ever btw

I think I have a post about this whole situation somewhere (I think it's the post where I properly introduced his husband) but the short version is: after being injured by Grievous, Seventeen was taken off service, and continued to need a lot of treatments and physical therapy etc. which Kamino at first provided but stopped giving when the clones got rights bc it was not their problem anymore. Seventeen's lawyer husband needed to make a good PR move, so he proposed a marriage of convenience to Seventeen (he would pay for Seventeen's treatment while Seventeen acted as mentioned good PR move). Purely out of convenience. They were roommates. Uh-huh.

[varpusvaras]

Seventeen and Arell's dynamic is very much "it's rotten work" "I don't care". Not "not to me". So what if it's hard sometimes or even most of the time. So what. It's not in spite of anything.

Arell is not going to demand Seventeen to let him love him. No, he is going to say that he will love him no matter what.

[varpusvaras]

Where is my touchscreen pen. Oh it's at home 500km away. I wanna draw Arell (or attempt lmao I don't have the skill to make him hot enough)

[varpusvaras]

I've eaten two bowls of popcorn and kinda made the migraine almost go away (or at least made the accompanying headache smaller), and now I'm having feels. Of Seventeen and Arell and their multitude of somewhat sometimes blue hybrid kids. Are they blue or are they not? Yes, sometimes.

Their family pictures look like those extra serious photographs of victorian time people going :l

[varpusvaras]

Feel free to ignore this ask if you like but i was wondering what Arell’s thoughts on Alpha-17’s upbringing are?

I can imagine there’s quite a few 😳 moments when your husband was raised in a lab as a child soldier.

Oh Arell has a lot of thoughts and opinions about it all. He is part Mandalorian himself, and works as a lawyer (sentient rights lawyer to be exact) so every time Seventeen does or mentions something about his life he's like

Arell thinks cloning as a practice is dubious at best to start with, and he thinks that what happened on Kamino and during the war is horrific and should never had happened, and he despises having to live in a system that allowed it to happen in the first place (unfortunately, due to his own hangups with his Mando heritage and his rather blunt personality, he articulates this all to Seventeen minimum passive-aggressively, and a lot of times sounds like he is insulting Seventeen a bit when he says Seventeen's beliefs and habits are stupid at best ((he does care, and he really increasingly cares about Seventeen, and to him, a lot of the things Seventeen still does and thinks are just harming Seventeen himself even further, but he doesn't know how to articulate this well either, because this wasn't supposed to be real))

He gets better tho)