#all. alrik

[prcspero]

@alessiathepath ; @alrikhart ; @vuldak-juneau ; @zagreusx ; @zelihatheflight ; @froyofthe-ironwood

[agrcn]

closed starter for @alrikhart location: southreach contract: duel of the guilds note: get ur swords out gents

Contracts came in often for the guild and Agron was always chomping at the bit to get to them when he was able. Given his status as a Queensguard, his loyalty was to the Queen first and foremost, but that didn't mean that his duties to the Warriors' Guild were thrown to the side. He would still pick up contracts here and there, but that was a rare occurrence nowadays. The fact that he had gotten to this one was just lucky on his part. The fact that it was sparring with members he hadn't seen in quite some time just made it that much more appealing. Actually, the part that called to him the most was meeting another warrior he had never seen before.

Alrik was certainly the kind of person that seemed very capable, but he had been wrong about that kind of thing before. He'd have to see how the kid was in battle before he made any assumptions. As he looked across at their opponents, he turned his head back towards Alrik, hand already on the hilt of his sword. "Have you ever fought with a strigoi before?" The other was Iskaran so he could imagine what the answer to the question would be. Nevertheless, they didn't particularly have much time to talk anyway. As much brawn as it seemed like Agron had, he could move quite fast. He expected the same of Alrik. "Keep up," was all he said as he moved forward to attack their opponents, sword drawn and shield at the ready to block any blows that came his way.

[prcspero]

"We'll see if she's skeevy or not once we get there. Who knows what she'll present herself as, huh?" It wasn't like Prospero had really ever had an audience with the Queen before. He had just kind of seen her from a very far away distance before. To say that was a meeting would have been a lie and there was just no need for that. Nevertheless, he was glad that the two of them had had this conversation. It really was them getting to know each other, but it meant something. It was the first step to them being able to depend on each other. At least, that was what the druid hoped. "Goodnight, Alrik." As the witch walked away, he let a smile curl upon his lips as he spoke to Alrik's back. "First compliment of many more!"

END.

Prospero's candor mirrored his own, his faith in him was refreshing, but Alrik's range of knowledge was minimal. Amid the throng was a bonefied Iskaran smith, Alrik's experience with the black produced meager and far more brittle metals, but for the druid, he could try. His elbow nudged the other lightly, affirmation with the rounded curve of a smile that lifted slightly pink cheeks but didn't quite meet his eyes. "Could be: skeevy witches will do just about anything to get ahead." The smile in Alrik's voice came with its own implication, "I should turn in, sleep is hard enough to get without wandering around half the night. Goodnight, Prospero." He moved to walk away before he stopped, "That's a really nice hat, looks good on you." Alrik left the druid

[jack-o-cel]

It was a quiet night. The moon shone in the sky without restraint, illuminating the city of Baldurs Gate in her silver glow. The city streets were barren for a change, save for a few stalkers of the night still early in their hunt.

Among the empty sky flew a single raven. The moons beams made his white feathers glow like a candle in a dark room. The raven circled the streets in dismay. Nary a soul in sight. Nary a soul to defile. The raven, with a low caw, shifted his course.

Soon the raven found himself perched on a familiar balcony. He stood still, taking a moment to bask in the moonlight. He could almost feel her warmth, if he fantasized it more deeply. The raven caws quietly. How delusional. As if the moon would love him? She who sees his grotesque misdeeds, with rarely a break, every night. The raven is certain she hates him. For who could love a beast like him?

The raven shakes his head. He eyes the door handle as magic crackles around his body.

The balcony door creaks open. A cat gracefully enters, the moons rays glistening his fur and trailing behind him like a ball gowns trailing veil. Swiftly the cat saunters in the bedroom, his tail high in the air and hooked.

Hooked like a bear with fish, or a mouse with cheese. The cat found himself perched at the edge of a man’s bed. A man who he hates with every fiber of his being. He felt his very blood boil at the sight of the man tossing and turning in his sleep.

One day the cat will kill the man. Perhaps tonight? He did look rather pathetic in his nightmare infused sleep. No doubt filled with memories of his childhood that the cat heard so much about.

Something stirred in the cat’s red fiery eyes. Something once lost that had begun rearing its ugly head as of late.

No, not tonight.

The man slowly stilled in his sleep as the cat had begun his walk across his bed. The feline stopped on his now stilled body. The cat rising and falling with the man’s easy breaths. The cat glared at the cloth that separated him and the man’s bare chest.

Once satisfied with the removal of the barrier, the cat nestled into the soft chest of the man. His own white fur mingling with the dark hair of the man’s chest.

Not tonight.

As the sun rose the next morning, the man had awoken with a quiet groan. His duties for the day still plagued his mind. Despite his woes, he felt refreshed. His eyes felt lighter and the day more pliable. A welcome change to his still shaken mind.

As the man surveyed the scene of his disarrayed bed, his eyes had caught the shimmer of white streaks. He rubbed his eyes, and picked up a few strands of fur. His gaze softened as a smile grew on his face.

Yes, today would be a good day.

[thedragonagelesbian]

Doing legacy, night terrors, and dissent all right in a fucking row really is the anders nightmare train huh

[legionariejon]

Jon should have know he was on about on darkspawn, silly Jon, he’s lucky he had a muscles to make up for his lack of intelligence. “Sending men cry is better than having to kill them.” It was actually quite commendable to take a less violent path if it was possible. If the man had done that Jon makes his character better than most. Alrik had displaced right, Jon has always wondered what it would have been like if his nature had never been found out if he stayed hidden. “Well it’s good to know one more blade in this fight. Jon by the way.” One blade wouldn’t make the deciding difference but accumulatively they could make a difference even if the horde grew with every unburned body. Jon hadn’t been at Nornwatch, it was a shame he carried that he wasn’t there for the legion “Sadly I was not, I wish I had been but you can’t change the past. What did you see?”

Alrik's expression remained light, stoicism dissolving as the tension of uncertainty traded places with intrigue. He appreciated the other man's effort, recognizing the value of camaraderie in these dark times.

"The darkspawn fear little, but I spoke more of men, little lighting - hint of a storm, most run home crying to their mothers," he said, a faint hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I hold no mark from any Guild or Order." Straight and curt, directed to the point, his path was hidden and veiled, "Just another warrior displaced by the events of the past - pushed to fight for a cause not all different from yours." Alrik had a predisposition toward curiosity where stories were concerned. "Were you at Nornwatch?" The Keep was large and overrun with refugees, it would have been easy for Alrik to miss the legionnaire back then.

[michelleleewise]

Fire and Ash...

A Long Live the King Tale..

Pairing: King Jotun Loki x Asgardian female reader

Warnings: there be angst here!! Cause it's me....come on lol mentions of labor and delivery (cesarean...not graphic), mentions of alcohol, yelling, crying, swearing, jealousy, assumptions, self doubt,

Summary: Loki is off realm as an unexpected surprise arises....causing you to question your relationship....

A/n- ok so......this is the continuing saga of Loki of Jotunhiem and y/n of Asgard. Because an epilogue wasnt enough lol i hope you all enjoy!!! 💚💚

Part Thirteen--Part one-

One year after your return to Jotunhiem-

"WHERE IS HE!?" You yelled, gripping your stomach as your knees buckled "I have sent word my queen, he should be here shortly." Alrik said grabbing your elbow "don't touch me!" You yelled trying to steady your breathing "apologies my queen." Alrik said quickly letting go. Bracing yourself on the wall you took a deep breath as the pain passed "a..alrik, will you...hold my hand?" You asked trying to straighten yourself "umm...yes my queen." He said holding his hand out. "We must get you to the the healers, we cannot wait." He said as you placed your hand in his.

"Fine time for a trip to Asgard." You growled clenching your jaw "king thor..." alrik started when you shot a glare at him "I do not give a damn about king Thor!" You snapped feeling another wave coming "His place is here with me, Not galavanting around like some school boy!" You yelled as the pain set into your lower abdomen "yes my queen, you are absolutely right." Alrik quickly said as you doubled over holding your stomach. "If he is not here in five minutes I will Stab him myself!" You gritted "very good my queen." Alrik agreed as you slowly straightened "t..take me to the...the healers, I cannot take this." You said shakely as the pain eased.

"Would you mind if i carried you my queen? It will be faster." He asked watching you intently "and have the men see me as some weak woman!? Not on your life." You said taking a deep breath. "You will walk me there." You said straightening your spine, pushing your chest out trying to look as composed as possible "of course my queen." He said walking to the door he held your hand tightly as you walked into the long hallway. You held your head up, chin out as you walked towards the healing chambers, Alrik taking slow strides to match your pace when another wave hit hard. "They are getting closer, we must hurry." Alrik rushed out watching you double over. "This will happen when I say so." You growled again trying to breath. "I am not sure it works that way my queen." He said seeing everyone looking at them.

"Fuck! C..carry me! I...I can't.." you groaned feeling a tear slide down your cheek as Alrik laced his arm under your legs holding you to his chest he began to run "we need the healers! Quicky!" Alrik's voice echoed through the halls as he maneuved around eveyone "a...alrik..." you panted, gripping your stomach feeling the tears streaming freely "I know my queen, we will be there shortly." He assured you as he sped up his pace "move you oafs!" He yelled to a group of guards standing by the entrance to the healers "if anything happens to the queen you will face Loki's wrath." He growled as they quickly dispersed. "It's ok my queen, we are here." Alrik said setting you down on a small bed.

"What has happened?" One of the healers, Norendra asked rushing over "it is time, you must assist her!" Alrik said walking to the side of the bed grabbing your hand "but...this wasn't supposed to happen for weeks." She said calling over the other healers "well it did!" You yelled making her jump. "I...I'm so...sorry." you panted laying your head back against the pillow "it is alright y/n." She said offering a soft smile. "You, quickly retrieve me the pain elixir from the cabinet." Norendra said grabbing your other hand "all will be well soon, keep taking deep breaths." She cooed rubbing the back of your hand "w...where is L...loki." you asked taking a shaky breath "I am unsure my queen, but we will get through this." Alrik smiled dabbing your forehead with a damp cloth. "I...I need him." You said, unable to stop the sob that escaped you. "He will be here y/n, I know he will." Akrik said trying to calm you.

The other healer came over, handing the elixir to Norendra before joining the other healers fluttering around the room. "Here, drink this and all will be well." She smiled holding the vial to your lips you leaned up drinking it all before settling back down. You felt your eyes droop, sleep calling your name looking up Alrik "t..thank you...for everything." You smiled feeling the pain cease "anytime my queen." He smiled back "i...I love you...your like the brother I never had." You said squeezing his hand "sleep well...sister." he smiled as your eyelids slowly dropped, sleep taking you. "We will have to perform surgery." Norendra said to the other healers making Alrik look up "what? Why? Everything has been fine." He said taking a step towards her "it is in the wrong position, we must act now." She said bringing everything to the side of the bed.

"And since the king is off realm and you are her guard you must stay." She said sternly pointing to a chair in the corner. Alrik sighed, bringing the chair over he sat it down next to the bed grabbing your hand In his "loki...I will get you for this." He growled rubbing your hand with his thumb he averted his eyes as the healers prepped you

Loki sighed, gripping the handle he swung the door open walking into the tavern. He made sure his asgardian illusion was in place as he glanced around finally spotting the massive blonde he had been looking for. "Thor!" He yelled making his way around servers and patrons "ah Loki there your are!" Thor bellowed standing up. "Mother said you needed to see me?" Loki asked looking around at the drunken revelers and their half naked aquantinces "yes! I wanted to introduce you to my friends seeing as whenever you are here you never come out." He said taking his seat pulling a voluptuous red head into his lap making Loki roll his eyes as he sat down "volstagg, fandral, hogun and of course the lovely lady sif." Thor said pointing to each one as he introduced them "everyone, this is Loki, my brother." Thor said clapping him on the back.

"I was not aware Thor had a brother." Sif said eyeing him. "Yes well, we only fairly recently discovered it and Odin was not my father." Loki said waving a server over "ah I see, well it is a pleasure to meet you." She said smiling as the others lifted their glasses "here here!" Thor said downing his drink "another!" He yelled throwing it to the ground shattering it making Loki jump. "So brother tell me, how are you enjoying Asgard this time of year?" Thor asked wrapping his large arms around the red head in his lap "it is fine, I only wish it wasn't so stifling." Loki said as the server set a drink in front of him "Well we will make it worth your while won't we?" He asked the small group of friends as they started cheering and laughing, loki looking around at them seeing sif giving him an odd look "drinks all around!" Thor yelled as a group of servers decended on the table. "Drink up, the night is young." Thor winked at Loki making him sigh. "Only one Thor then I must retire, I return home tomorrow." Loki said sitting back "we shall see." Thor said giving his friends a sly look as they all picked up their tankards.

Several hours and drinks later Loki stumbled back to his chambers, much to his chagrin Thor had coaxed him into drink after drink as the revelry bled long into the night. "Norns what was in that mead?" Loki sighed leaning his head on the door to his room he pushed it open stumbling inside. "That oaf will be the death of me." He said peeling his tunic off he tossed it onto a chair by the fire before slumping down on the chaise across from it. A smile spreading across his face at the memory of you and him on the one in his sitting room when a faint knock sounded at the door. "No Thor! I am done for the evening." He said resting his head on the back of the chaise when his door opened "oh come now, you cannot be tired yet." Thor said walking inside closing the door behind him. "Well I am so if you don't mind." Loki sighed pinching the bridge of his nose as Thor plopped down on the chair across from him "or have a seat I suppose." Loki snarked sitting up. "I only came to offer a night cap." He said wiggling a flask back and forth "and possibly offer some company this evening." He smirked and winked making Loki's brow furrow.

"We have some of the most exquisite pleasure maidens in all the nine." He said sitting back "and I am certain one would be more then happy to spend the evening with the king of Jotunhiem." He said giving Loki a knowing look "I beg your pardon?" Loki asked taken aback "oh, we also have men if you prefer or maybe a bit of both eh?" Thor asked wiggling his eyebrows "no Thor, you know of my relationship with y/n." Loki said sternly looking into the fire. "I only know you took her back with you. You haven't spoken much of her...although mother tells me she is expecting your child?" Thor asked taking a drink "yes she is, I care for her deeply." Loki said taking the flask from Thor "well from the sounds of it she is no more then a concubine carrying your heir." Thor shrugged "she is more then that brother." Loki growled glaring at him "I love her." He continued taking a drink. "Well then why have you not married her? Made her your queen then?" Thor asked holding his hand out "well i...we just haven't...you don't understand..." loki stuttered handing the flask back.

"Loki you needn't explain anything to me, I was only offering you company for the night...help relieve your stress." Thor said taking a drink "your trips here seem to be becoming more frequent and your stays longer, is everything alright between you two?" Thor asked eyeing him. "You wouldn't understand thor." Loki sighed sitting back "I was not expecting y/n to be with child so soon, i...I am not sure I am ready." Loki said titling his head back "well it's a bit late for that." Thor laughed "have you spoken to y/n about this?" Thor asked "no, I have not. She has not been quite herself as of late, the child has not been easy on her." Loki said closing his eyes "I have not wanted to burden her with my troubles as well." Loki said sighing. "So your solution is to leave?" Thor asked making Loki's head shoot up "because it seems to me that is going to cause more problems then lessen them." He said shaking his head "as I said brother, you would not understand." Loki said standing up "now if you will excuse me I am quite tired." Loki said pointing to the door. "Alight I'll go, but I truly feel you are digging yourself a hole you won't be able to get out of." Thor said standing up holding his hands up.

"Thor..." loki started when the door to his chambers flew open, frigga walking inside "I have received word from Heimdall your child is on the way." She said looking between them "what!? We are weeks away!' Loki yelled grabbing his tunic "apparently not." Thor laughed "good luck brother, and congratulations." He said patting Loki on the back as he left. "Heimdall is waiting for us at the bifrost." Frigga said quickly turning and leaving "norns help me." Loki said righting his tunic following her. Silence hung heavy between them as they walked to the bifrost, Loki's anxiety rising the closer they got. "Son, what troubles you?" Frigga finally asked making Loki sigh "what if I'm a terrible father? What if I become like Laufey?" He asked looking up at the golden dome "Loki, you have a good heart...you will not be as he was." Frigga said looking over at him "but i..." he trailed off looking up at the stars "no buts! You will be an excellent father." Frigga said sternly as they walked in seeing Heimdall ready "but, whatever is happening between you and y/n you must repair it." She said grabbing his elbow "I know you have been hurt and your are scared but do not shut her out." She said offering a soft smile seeing him nod.

"Heimdall, king Loki is ready to return to Jotunhiem." Frigga said sternly seeing the man nod "when you are ready." He said sliding the sword into the podium "I will return to tell you of y/n and the little one." Loki said hugging frigga to him "take care Loki, lest you lose everything." She said hugging him back. Loki pulled back nodding, flicking his wrist his illusion dropped, his skin fading from ivory to azure. "Be well my son." Frigga said as loki stepped up to the opening "be well Mother." He called back as Heimdall turned the sword sending him home.

You drifted through the haze, pain blossoming in your stomach hearing voices floating through the room "Loki, as a friend you are a complete fool." Alriks voice snapped bringing you back. Slowly opening your eyes you saw Loki and Alrik across the room "you need to talk to her." Alrik's voice sounded again "talk to me about what?" You asked, seeing both their heads snap to look at you "nothing love, we can talk when you are better." Loki smiled walking towards you when alrik grabbed his shoulder "do it...or I will." He growled nodding to you before quickly leaving the room. "W..what was..." you trailed off trying to sit up when a sharp pain shot through you "love lay back, you need to rest." Loki said gently pushing you back when reality slammed into you.

"Whe...where's the..." you started when Loki cupped your face in his hands "y/n, he is fine, he's sleeping." He said nodding to the small bassinet on the side of the bed. You took a deep breath laying back against the pillow "thank the norns." You sighed closing your eyes. "They had to perform surgery my love, he would not come out on his own." Loki said taking a seat on the bed next to you. "Why?" You asked, looking up at him feeling your eyes burn "why weren't you here Loki?" You asked clearing your throat "I am so sorry love, I thought we had time and i was..." you scoffed cutting him off "in Asgard, yes I know." You sneered looking to the ceiling "you are there more then you are not these past months." You said fighting the tears that threatened to fall "y/n my love, i..." loki was cut off as the healer came in "apologies my king but she needs rest, I have to ask you to leave." Norendra said standing at the foot of the bed "very well, just give me a moment?" Loki said seeing her nod and walk across the room.

"My love, you know I only wish to know the family that was taken from me." Loki said as you tilted your head, a tear betraying you sliding down your cheek "am i not your family as well?" You asked watching him look down to his lap "I am sure you have gotten your fill as well...seeing as I could not accommodate you." You snarked looking back to the ceiling "now y/n, that is..." Loki started when Norendra stepped up again "my king I must insist." She said sternly. "We will discuss this later y/n." Loki said, watching you stare unmoving at the ceiling as he stood up "please ensure she has anything she desires." Loki said seeing Norendra nod he quickly turned making his way to the door, glancing back watching you roll to your side your back facing him "I'm sorry y/n." He whispered opening the door stepping out.

"Did you talk to her?" Alrik asked suddenly making Loki jump "no, she is in no state right now." Loki said briskly walking to the throne room "I meant what I said, you do it or I will." He said making Loki stop and turn to him "why are you so concerned hmm?" Loki asked crossing his arms "have you two grown close in my absence?" Loki sneered watching Alrik take a step towards him "if we were not blood Brothers Loki..." he growled clenching his jaw "I care for her a great deal, she is like a sister to me and I will not allow even you to treat her as less then she deserves." Alrik said sternly, his voice rising getting the others attention "you will watch how you speak to me! Brothers or not I am your king!" Loki yelled taking a step towards him.

"And she is my queen!" Alrik yelled "and she deserves to be treated as such, not left alone by the man who says he loves her!" He continued taking another step towards Loki, leaning down he held his gaze "the man you are now..." he trailed off looking Loki up and down "does not deserve her." Alrik sneered standing back up "I will be in my chambers should you need me...my king." He sneered quickly turning walking the other way down the hall. Loki stood speechless, Alrik's words sinking in as he watched him walk away. He's right...you don't deserve her loki thought to himself turning back to the throne room, taking a deep breath he looked down the hall towards the healers deciding where his priorities lie he turned and walked towards your room, slowly opening the door he quietly slipped inside

"my king, what are you doing?" Norendra whisper yelled at him storming over "please, y/n and my son are here...allow me to stay?" He asked feeling the tears well in his eyes "fine, but you will be quiet yes?" She asked as he nodded "very well, come visit your son." She said walking over to the bassinet, Loki following behind her "have you thought of a name my king?" She asked carefully picking him up as Loki held his arms out, cradling his son to his chest "yes...we did in fact." Loki whispered, running his finger along his sons tiny cheek. "Vali Alrik Lokison." Loki smiled seeing his sons lips turn up at the corners. "That's a beautiful name my king." Norendra said grabbing a chair from the corner "here, sit with him...she will wake in a bit to feed him." She said as Loki sat down rocking his son in his arms. "You will be a great king one day." Loki whispered hearing Vali coo "better then I I am certain." Loki smiled when soft snores came from the bundle in his arms.

"Sleep well little one, you have much to discover." Loki cooed leaning back in the chair he looked up at your sleeping form, regret filling him at not being here when you needed him. "I will be better...for you...for our son...I swear it." He whispered closing his eyes. He leaned down kissing his sons forehead humming to him as he rocked him back and forth. "I swear it.." he whispered again, a tear streaming down his cheek as he gazed at the most precious things in his life.

@lokistoriesblog @hyperlokilover @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @simplyholl @lokidokieokie @mjsthrillernp @violethaze @dryyoursaltyoceantears @loz-3 @commanding-officer @stupidthoughtsinwriting @high-functioning-lokipath @jaidenhawke @lokiandbuckysdoll @littlespaceyelf @lastlovesong17 @ladyofthestayingpower @homesickloki @glitterylokislut @avoliax @yelkmelk @mayjaysthots @buttercupcookies-blog @differenttyphoonwerewolf @her-glorious-purpose @nate-ate-hate @chantsdemarins @ladymischief11 @usagishira @princess-asgard @honeyg19 @goblingirlsarah @cabingrlandrandomcrap @mochie85 @silverfire475 @smolvenger @loki-laufeyson-1054 @marygoddessofmischief @animnerd @texmexdarling @fictive-sl0th @jin0x0 @vbecker10 @eleniblue @lady-rose-moon @pics-and-fanfics @kittiowolf210 @kats72 @asgardianprincess1050 @crimson25

[y-rhywbeth2]

Incidentally, if you've ever wanted your Durge to fight like Bhaal for some reason - or would like to have Bhaal hunt them down in person if they resisted him - Bhaal's usual in-person tactics are wandering the area in stealth assassinating a bunch of guards (usually sowing panic, sometimes allowing them to scream leaving the bodies on display or even giving them a slow death so their comrades can watch them die) and then entering open combat with what little is left and then just really casually killing them all.

Knives is good, but killing people with your bare hands is best. Never be ashamed to just fucking punch people.

Bhaal also flat out doesn't care about healing, as you may have seen in the feral ending, and will keep fighting until the physical body collapses. Also gets more aggressive when an opponent manages to land a hit: he kills you, not the other way around.

Furthermore: be unkillable. Just fucking refuse to die no matter how many killing blows your opponents give you until they're literally yelling 'why won't you die??' at you. So ultimately all hitting Bhaal back does is make him murder you harder.

For textual illustrations, I collected some sections of Bhaal's fight/assassin scenes because I could. Also Cyric and his beloved pony:

"There's something beyond the outer curtain," he said, trying to gain Cyric's interest. He removed his scabbard and placed it upon the dusty banquet table. "Or so the watch says." Cyric had little concern for what lurked outside the walls to frighten his men. He decided to change the subject and asked, "How is my pony? That fellow carried me well, considering how hard I rode." "With rest it'll recover - provided someone doesn't kill it first," Dalzhel said, returning to the fireplace. "There are those who grumble that it has eaten better than the men." "It's proven more use!" Cyric snapped. The pony had carried him nearly one hundred and fifty miles over the last three days. A war-horse could not have done better. He considered threatening death to anyone who touched the pony, but rejected the idea. The order would breed resentment, and someone might take up the challenge.

You hear that, Cyric. 'Someone.'

I like to imagine Mask is laughing her head off in this scene, considering she's almost definitely aware of Bhaal lurking in the shadows spying for Myrkul and murdering two guys and listening to this conversation, and she knows exactly what he's going to do having heard that.

Sometimes Bhaal doesn't even kill them. Immediately.

Two of the men were pointedly looking away from the well. Since it still provided water, it was the one item the castle's periodic inhabitants kept in good repair. A moan, low-pitched and feral, issued from the well's depths. Tied to the blood-smeared crossbar was a gray cord that descended into the dark pit. Dalzhel stepped forward and grabbed the cord. Without speaking, he began to pull. An anguished scream rang out deep down the well. Dalzhel allowed the cry tocontinue for several seconds before dropping the cord. "What was that?" Cyric asked, peering into the black depths. "Edan, we think," Dalzhel reported. "He's still alive," Fane added informatively. "Every time we try to pull him up, he screams." Though he had seen many slow deaths, and had caused one or two himself, Cyric's stomach turned as he tried to imagine what had happened at the other end of the rope.

Cyric peered inside. Alrik faced the corner, kneeling in a pool of his own blood. He held his hands cupped in front of his stomach. A barbed, wooden tip protruded from his lower back, suggesting that a stake had been driven through his body. Because of the barbs, the stake could not be removed without dragging Alrik's intestines out with it.

"No!" A high screech followed. It did not fade, even after the man's throat should have gone hoarse. Cyric turned toward the gatehouse, unsure of what he would find. Few humans were capable of the efficient brutality with which Alrik and Edan had been tortured. Still, the thief moved at his best pace. If he appeared frightened of the murderer, his men would no longer be afraid of him - and that was an invitation for mutiny - Dalzhel and Fane followed close behind. By the time they reached the gatehouse, the scream was no longer audible. A dozen men had gathered in the stairwell, standing in a line running up to the second floor. Their torches cast a flickering yellow light on the walls. The men did not even notice Cyric when he arrived, so Fane bellowed, "Out of the way! Stand aside!" When the onlookers made no move to obey, Fane muscled a path up the stairway. Cyric and Dalzhel followed, eventually reaching a doorway. Five men stood inside, staring at a crumpled form in the center of the room. A dark pool was spreading about their feet, and the barest whisper of a croak came from the shape on the floor.

-

Cyric and his lieutenant were thinking along the same lines. During his life, Cyric had known many evil men. Not one was capable of what he had seen tonight. "Have the men gather in groups of six," the thief ordered. "One group in the great hall-" A terrified whinny sounded from outside, interrupting the instructions. "The stable," Dalzhel observed. The men mumbled, but stood still and waited for their orders. Again, the pony whinnied, this time sending chills down Cyric's spine. "We'd better have a look," he said, cringing at the thought of what they would find. The men on the stairs reluctantly started to ward the stable, Cyric and Dalzhel close behind. By the time the hawk-nosed man reached the ground floor, the pony was quiet. As Cyric stepped into the courtyard, a ghostly wail whistled through the castle. Outside the stable, ten men stood with their swords drawn, peering inside and clearly reluctant to enter. Cyric slopped his way across the ward and pushed them aside. Grabbing a torch, he entered the stable, his sword arm aching with the desire to lash out at something. The pony lay dead in its stall, a withered and puckered hole over its heart. The lips of its muzzle were twisted back in horror, and one eye stared directly at Cyric. Dalzhel approached and stood next to his commander. For a moment, he observed in silence, wondering whether or not Cyric was mourning the beast's death. Then he noticed something on the beam over the stall. "Look!" A circle of drops had been drawn in blood. Cyric had little trouble recognizing the Circle of Tears.

This is exactly how I play BG3 from the perspective of areas full of not-yet-hostile enemies:

"Milord, Captain Beresford bids me inform you that two guards are absent from the outer curtain." Deverell frowned then asked, "Is it still raining?" The page nodded. "Aye. The drops are as red as blood and as cold as ice." The boy could not keep his fear from showing itself in his voice. Deverell stopped whispering. "Then tell Beresford to worry no more, and we'll discipline the derelicts come morning. I've no doubt the guards are hiding from the strange weather." [...] The page entered again and approached Lord Deverell. In the room's silence, it was impossible not to hear his whisper. "Milord, Captain Beresford orders me report the absence of three sentries from the inner curtain." "The inner curtain?" Deverell exclaimed. "There, too?"

-

The halfling had no idea what it was that the guards were fighting, but he knew that it had torn through them with frightening speed. [...] The guards knew little more about their opponent than Sneakabout. Orrel had seen something crawl down a dark corner of the inner wall. A moment later, a timid-looking man had stepped out of the shadows and walked nonchalantly to the keep's entrance. Orrel and another guard had stepped out of the foyer to challenge him. He had knocked their halberds aside, then slipped a dagger out of his sleeve and killed them both with a single, long slash. A third guard had yelled an alarm, which had also proven fatal. The stranger had thrown a dagger through the guard's throat, silencing him in midscream. Fitch, the sergeant, had ordered the survivors to retreat inside. He felt foolish for running from a lone attacker, but the smooth efficiency with which the man killed left no doubt that he was no ordinary assassin. Because their assignment was to protect the keep tower, Fitch thought it wisest to retreat and bar the door, then send a man to call for help. His strategy didn't work. The doors were thick and heavy, designed for strength instead of manoeuvrability. As the sergeant and a guard pushed them into place, the stranger stepped out of the foyer. The guard died an instant later, the attacker's fingers wrapped around his larynx. Brandishing his sword, Sergeant Fitch yelled his last order to the men on the stairs. "In Azoun's name, keep him downstairs!"

To Adon's left, the stairs descended in a gentle, clockwise spiral. Five feet down, another torch hung in a sconce, casting its dingy light upon the cold stone steps. Where the stairwell curved out of sight, the shadows of four Cormyrians were retreating up the stairs. Each silhouette held a polearm. Judging from the shadows, it appeared a single man was pursuing them. One of the Cormyrian silhouettes lunged. A flurry of activity followed then a weak chuckle rolled up the stairs. An instant later, a man screamed in agony. The other three guards retreated another step. Their chain-mailed backs were visible to Adon now, but the attacker remained unseen. Adon could not believe a single man pressed so fiercely, but the shadow appeared to be nothing more. [...] A clamor arose outside the tower as word spread that the keep was under attack. The tattoo-headed man turned to listen for an instant then calmly returned his gaze to the two guards in front of him. The stranger stepped forward, slapping their halberds aside as if the weapons were no more than sticks.

He also has stupidly high AC:

The remaining live soldier shifted to the other side of the landing, then raised his sword. The guard was deliberately giving the god an opening so Adon could attack. Heedless of the trap, Bhaal stepped forward, and Adon swung his mace at the avatar's head. The god easily ducked the blow. Before the Cormyrian could slash, however, the Lord of Murder punched him in the abdomen. The man barely retained his balance and stumbled back on the landing [...] The Cormyrian obliged with a vicious overhead slash. Bhaal sidestepped it easily, moving backward toward Midnight's chamber. The magic-user's door flew open. Midnight stood in the entrance to her room, dagger in hand. She had been watching the battle in silence, cursing the loss of her spellbook and waiting for an opportunity to strike. Finally, it had come. She thrust the blade into the avatar's back. Bhaal's eyes widened in surprise. He started to turn, and Adon seized the chance for an easy attack, smashing his mace into the avatar's ribs. The god's knees buckled and he tumbled down the stairs, roaring in a rage. The avatar came to rest six steps down, Midnight's dagger still planted in his back. "Is he dead?" Midnight asked. Bhaal rose and glared at the magic-user, cursing in a language no human could duplicate. Without paying any attention to his wounds, the Lord of Murder jumped for the landing. The Cormyrian yelled and leaped to meet the avatar, blade flashing. Bhaal met the guard in midair, blocking the soldier's swordarm with a bone-crunching blow and simultaneously driving his fingers into the man's throat. The avatar reached the landing with the guard's gasping body in his hands, then dropped the corpse down the stairs without a second thought.

Bhaal lifted a hand and felt the wound. His fingers came away bloody. Without so much as turning around, he kicked backward, catching the cleric in the ribs. Adon flew into his chamber, crashed into his bed, then crumpled to the floor gasping for breath and wondering how he would ever pick himself up.

If you don't have a knife at hand, stabbing them with your own broken wrist bone is fine:

Without warning, Bhaal stopped and spun on his pursuer, jabbing at Cyric with the sharp bone protruding from his severed wrist. The fallen god followed the jab with an open-handed strike from his other hand. [...] Cyric was at Bhaal's back. The thief attacked with a vicious slash he hoped would cleave the avatar down to the breast bone. But Bhaal heard him coming and, easily breaking free of Dalzhel's hold, pivoted out of the way. The God of Assassins caught Cyric's arm, then used the thief's own momentum to throw him ten feet into the brush. As Cyric sailed past, Dalzhel snatched his sword off the ground then plunged the blade into the avatar's rib cage. Bhaal snarled and kicked the Zhentish soldier in the stomach.Dalzhel fell backward and landed with a crash. The Lord of Murder casually plucked Dalzhel's sword from between his ribs and tossed it aside. Then he leaped onto his opponent's prone form, thrusting the splintered stump of his wrist into Dalzhel's throat. Dalzhel screamed once then fell quiet.

Just wholesale beating the living daylights out of an opponent is also good, and I think this might be one of Bhaal's favourite memories (and fyi Cyric did not win the fight between them. Mask did):

Cyric slashed. Bhaal easily dodged, slapping the thief's sword hand aside. Cyric kicked, hoping to keep his attacker away. The avatar blocked the foot, then stepped in close and clipped his opponent's jaw with a fist as hard as stone. Cyric's ears rang and his head swam. He tried to swing his sword, but Bhaal hit him once more. The thief felt his body going limp. The Lord of Murder struck his jaw again, then his stomach, then continued pummeling Cyric until he dropped his weapon and flopped to the ground in a half-conscious heap. While Bhaal battered Cyric, Adon and Kelemvor rushed toward Midnight.

[kirkwallguy]

genuine question, what about cullens crush on the mage hero is creepy? like in canon was it implied he was being weird about it that I just missed? I'm for sure not remembering every dialogue he had about them but I can't recall anything super weird?

i mean it's more the circumstances/dynamic than his actual actions - i don't think he's particularly written as a creep in the way a lot of the da2 templars are, but his crush wasn't supposed to be cute imo, it always came across as a way to make players think about the potential dynamics between mages and templars within the circles. in fairness, cullen isn't taking any steps to pursue the warden and he can't help having a crush, but it's apparently noticeable enough that people comment on it in ambient dialogue. imagine being in that situation:

he's an armed jailor whose job is keeping you in a tower against your will and killing you if you step out of line. i don't think extra attention from someone in that position would be welcome or fun as a young girl, especially an apprentice since they're in a more precarious position and more likely to be made tranquil. maybe cullen is nice and won't use his station to manipulate or threaten you, but what about the next templar to become infatuated with you? or the one after that? cullen is young and pretty and doesn't have much influence, but they won't all be like that. there are templars like ser alrik who make mages tranquil specifically to abuse them, how do you know that he won't go and whisper in the night commander's ear that he saw you using blood magic if you tell him to stay away from you? idk. i just think the whole situation is a horror story.

[prcspero]

It felt…karmic that he’d lose them and there would be nothing he could do to save them.

@lotharx & @alrikhart & @alessiathepath

[sulky-valkyrie]

Prompt: "I want to be there when you get what's coming to you."

For Fenders if you are so inspired <3

hallooo beloved! have 700 words of pre-relationship something for @dadrunkwriting

"-what's coming to you."

The words were muffled and distant as Anders swam back to consciousness. "What?" he asked. Well, tried to. Instead it came out a low inarticulate grunt, followed by reflexively spitting blood from his mouth.

He made a second attempt. "What?" This time, the word actually made it past his split lips. He reached up to wipe his face, and found he couldn't. His hands had been tied to the armrests. What happened?

"I said I remembered telling you I wanted to be there when you got what's coming to you." Fenris sat to his left, and his voice was full of bitter amusement. "I confess, this wasn't what I had in mind." He was tied up as well, and with far more rope than Anders.

"Where's Hawke?" He asked thickly. Everything was blurry, and Justice was gone. No, not gone; just quiet, like a man asleep next door, only next door was still somewhere in his mind. Something both sweet and bitter clung to the back of his throat, a combination of magebane and… perhaps deepstalker venom? Whatever it was, it made him feel sluggish, even as his thoughts raced in a body he could barely control. Is this how it feels for Justice?

Fenris continued as if he hadn't heard him. "I thought it would be in the Gallows. I thought you'd lose yourself to… him. That I'd have to cut you down myself. Some nights, I dreamed about it." He shook himself. "Nothing like this, just a misstep and a price paid."

Anders looked around and tried to focus. They were in a basement. A Chantry basement. He could see the stylized sunburst pattern on the robes peeking from one of the crates. "Where's Hawke?" he asked again.

"The Keep, most likely, for all the good it'll do," Fenris answered, still sounding dazed, or maybe in shock. Blood trickled from bruised and broken skin on his cheekbone. Few things could leave mark like that, and gauntleted fist was the most likely source. "The Templars only obeyed the Viscount's orders because he never gave any that they saw a reason to ignore. Until now."

Panic was starting to rise in his chest, making his heart pound, sending whatever was left of the poison to his liver, where his Warden constitution would cleanse it from his body faster than their captors could possibly expect. The fabled Warden stamina of popular rumor was only one of the many side effects of the Joining, and, for once, he found himself glad of his order's secretive nature.

He scratched his cheek on the edge of his shoulder as the fog cleared. The magebane would still linger, of course; the taint had no effect on a mage's connection to the Fade, and therefore, couldn't undo any damage done to it. "What happened?" He asked.

Fenris glanced at him curiously. "You don't remember?"

Anders shook his head, then stopped as the bile rose in his throat. "Alrik. We - I almost… then I ran." He frowned as another chunk of memory slotted in place. "Then you followed me?"

"Right into the most ill-timed black market deal in all of Thedas," Fenris confirmed. "A dozen lyrium-drunk Templars and a dozen more Carta. I thought you would turn and slaughter all of them." Fenris paused, then added, "I was ready to let you, after what he said to that girl. Ready to mop up whatever was left of them, and you. But you didn't. You were… " he trailed off uncomfortably. "You asked me once if I ever thought about killing myself."

"What's that got to - oh." A fractured recollection kneeling in front of them, ready to pay for what they'd nearly become, what they'd nearly done. Weapons had been leveled at them in surprise, then the smites had rained down, battering them senseless, and accepting it for the just punishment they deserved, all before a streak of ghostly blue had cut through them, rending flesh and breaking bones.

His memories stopped there, and Fenris' voice dragged him back to the basement. "I watched you decide to die, and I couldn't allow it," he said softly. "I wanted to be there when you got what was coming to you. And I was." His markings flared, and he stood up as the ropes fell through him, then reached over to yank Anders' hands free. "And now, they will have it returned tenfold."

[prcspero]

A little mean, but he guessed it made sense. Prospero had wished for a family, had wished to gain back what he had lost, but it wasn't supposed to last. It was supposed to be exactly this. Given to him for a moment before it was taken away again. Over and over it would keep going and he feared that this was where it would always end. It seemed fitting though, didn't it? He was a darkfriend. He'd been responsible for...That thought alone was the reason he didn't respond. Was he supposed to tell Alrik that it wasn't fair? He'd saved the other's life twice, his sister's just the same. He'd never asked for anything in return because he didn't need anything back. That was what was fair. He wasn't allowed to ask them for anything because, well, it seemed that they were no longer friends. Or they hadn't been in the first place.

It was fitting though. He was destined for the Abyss. Loneliness was exactly what he deserved to feel. Neither of them deserved that though. Hadn't they gone through enough? Perhaps that was what Alrik thought as well. Deserving of loneliness. Or maybe that wasn't the case at all. Maybe he just didn't want Prospero around. There went that dinner. How foolish of him to think he'd be able to have a family again though. How so stupid of him.

The witch passed by him and Prospero reached down to his hip where his flask was always hanging from his belt. Instead of following after Alrik, he walked forward towards where the statues were staring down at him. The flask was placed down next to him as he sat down, but he didn't lift it to his lips. Maybe it was better if he didn't this one time.

END.

True to his nature, Alrik took a step in and met Prospero's ego with a set of cold, dead eyes. "We went through hell together, that doesn't make us friends. It makes you a reminder of the worst days of my life." Deliberate, Alrik put the bounty hunter behind him, hopefully for good - Alessia could clin to whatever she wanted, but he had no use for it. Alessia and Alrik had gone looking for Prospero at Nornwatch, looking for the druid while he lay passed out drunk in his bed. With time and distance between whatever gratitude Alrik fostered, it became easier to place the fault on the shoulders of the man who presented himself like a friend.

If the pattern brought people together for a reason, then Prospero was clearly meant as a test.

Alrik didn't spare the druid any parting words but walked past him with the intention laid out clearly enough. This was the last thing on Alrik's list before he could comfortably put Eterna and the Queenset behind him. Whatever future awaited him, he wouldn't find it looking back at the people restraining him.

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

The fact I have to use multiple headcanons for some characters to make them palatable is bullshit.

Sorry this is a 3am rant as I am doing nights and am the half awake type.

But this specifically is about Cullen Rutherford and how in canon he’s a bitch ass. And Oghren to actually. Also a bitch ass.

But these characters have so much damn potential I wanna SCREAM.

Cullen is a character who is set up to be a creep in the first game. He has a crush on one of his prisoners and when the tower is taken by magic and he is tormented we see him break. In DA2, he’s a magic hating asshole who stands up in the final second against his boss. In DAI he’s the commander who gives lip service to changing but hasn’t.

This entire saga has me going; BUT WHAT IF?!

I think I ranted about this before but Cullen in DA2 could have been so much cooler if we saw him slowly have a come to Andraste sort of story. In the beginning he’s running on his trauma. Hates magic. Can’t see mages as people because it means then people hurt him and he can’t do it.

But then he begins looking around. Maybe Meredith says something or he sees how his men flinch when he’s around. He begins actually seeing things in the Circle that kind of go: wait. The Ferelden Circle tower wasn’t as bad as Kirkwall. Not good no, but Kirkwall is hell.

Cullen seeing the trauma of a young girl being made tranquil. Seeing a Templar abuse her. Stepping in and then… Meredith does nothing. Denotes the man but doesn’t care. Cullen, who was at mercy of demons for days, who was taunted with an image of a woman he fancied himself in love with… he watches and can’t understand it.

He hears of the Tranquil solution. Hears someone whisper of Alrik after and he… he can’t. He can’t do that. Talks to Meredith who dismisses it. Whose insanity sparks in her eyes. Who talks of mages are vermin.

Cullen wonders if he was like that.

I want an actual damn redemption arch for Cullen, and I would love to explore more of ‘the Chantry abuses the Templars to’ with their purposeful forced addiction and how awful it is to come off it. Having Cullen see how Samson is, seeing him so sick… it should be a moment where we see this man truly question things.

Then DAI. I want Cullen to have earned his position. I want him to talk about how he knows he has biases due to the tower and the demons. I want him to tell the Herald ‘I sometimes relapse. Just tell me’

I still want a voice to argue for the Templars but I want Cullen to argue about Tevinter and that dealing with slavers is never wise. I want us to see Cullen terrified of magic and him having to combat the feelings.

I want Cullen to have a slow horrific retaliation of the Chantry as he comes off lyrium but still can use his Templar powers. I want him to choke it out, shaking, that he has been lied to.

I want an actual redemption and him truly trying to redeem himself. I headcanon it all the time when playing because it is the only way I can put up with him. Even then I only have romances him with a non-mage human, because I can’t see him able to do anything else.

Then OGHREN. I don’t know if I talked about this but his entire relationship with Felssi never interested me because it feels like he’s repeating Branka. They insult each other and she talks to him like dirt. Exploring the idea he left not because he didn’t want to be a dad/is a bad dad but because he recognized he was in the same damn cycle would have been so cool. Plus having him actually change.

In origins, have him stop drinking as much. Have him talking not about sex or being gross but have him holding intelligent conversations with Sten on battle tactics. Have him argue with Shale about dwarves. Have him discuss withdrawal with Wynne.

Then Awakenings. Like I said, I think the discussion that his relationship with Felssi is toxic on both sides would be fun. Have him confess he realized he was right back where he’d started, have him drinking again… I’m not saying blame everything on the woman. I am saying that toxic relationships are hard to break and the idea of Oghren honestly being at a loss when he realizes where he is would be so much fun.

This is a headcanon I built to be able to stand the man.

And the fact I have to do so makes me want to beg on bended knee to BioWare: please don’t do this to me in DA:D.

[teddywesworl]

cullen fic is basically just a character sketch but it is also an exercise in unreliable narrator (telegraphed, even: "The Seeker looks at him with sharp, impatient eyes and tells him that he does not see himself clearly.") because, surprising no one, one of my absolute favorite flavors of blorbo is "hypercompetent pathetic meow meow"

sorry to keep going on and on but he coulda been such a good character if someone had just committed to and elevated everything about him. bro says (and DOES) some nazi shit in da2!!! and he means it!!!!!! but he got to that point bc he was Literally Tortured for... do we know how long he was in that cage, actually??? days, at minimum. and then the warden frees him and secures mages for the war effort and ties all that neatly up with a bow except cullen's angry and traumatized and a church cop and NINETEEN YEARS OLD and the templars don't have a mental health department so bro radicalizes himself and gets his ass transferred to kirkwall (INSANE MOVE, GREAGOIR) and for some fuckin reason he gets promoted to knight-captain, literally second in command to Meredith, at the age of TWENTY-ONE

like it's easy to see that last bit and go hmm. weird choice, writers. why would meredith do that. but it's way more interesting to put on ur thinking cap and ask: why would meredith do that. what possessed her to look at this spitting mad wet cat from a dumpster and elevate him to SECOND!!! in command. and the first and most obvious reason is: that boy vulnerable & impressionable & Will Not Question Her. and the second more fun to think about reason is: what if he's actually that good? what if he's actually that good. what if he can fuckin toast alrik and thrask and karras and all them with a hand tied behind his back. what if he can snuff out the mana pool of a room full of senior enchanters without breaking a sweat. what if this traumatized little alt-right church cop dumpster cat plays urban warfare like it's chess. now he's dangerous. now he's less a cameo background character and more a black cloud on the horizon labeled 'future villain material.'

but he ignores a mage hawke for like six years. but he doesn't chase the rumors of a spirit healer in darktown. but he sides with hawke against meredith in the end, even if hawke keeps Anders at their side. and then, and THEN, the next time we the audience meet cullen, he has chosen to voluntarily stop taking lyrium, thereby stripping himself of all the power of a templar and potentially damning himself to madness and/or death.

hello????????????????????????????

[the-cryptographer]

Ngl we've had a lot of allusions to templar-on-mage prison rape in dragon age between Alrik and Ella, Wynne and Ellendra and their guys, and whatever might have manifested between Cullen and Mage Warden given the time and circumstances to do so. But I feel like what I really want someone to tackle is that Circle hierarchy is highly stratified, none of these people have civil protections, and a lot of prison rape is, you know, between the prisoners. Not in an 'oh, see, some of these mages DO deserve to be locked up' sort of way, but rather in a 'these are the systemic problems you would expect to arise in these circumstances' sort of way. Like... would the Circle administration reasonably care if a senior enchanter was using their elevated position to enact sexual violence on the tranquil or apprentices, when they've already dehumanised their charges and written them off as promiscuous, dangerous, and treacherous? Would a victim feel safe reporting this to templars, whose response to the problem might range anywhere from executing or tranquilising the perpetrator, to doing absolutely nothing, to using it as an excuse to enact further violence against said victim?

Idk, I wish the fandom actually wanted to tackle how much of a mindfuck the circle is because the lines of perpetrator and victimhood are so blurred, and this is a system that at every level encourages competition, infighting, and violence between the inturnee population. Like, frankly, I think it took an incredible amount of insight (and more than a little incredibly annoying compartmentalisation and enforcement of double standards) for Anders to ignore all the fraternities bullshit and correctly identify the Chantry as the root of the biggest problems facing mages.

[bigasswritingmagnet]

Gkika Gets Got

Fandom: Girl Genius Summary:

"A girl likes to pay her debts, ya?" "So, what did you do for the Jӓger lady?" "Nothing much. She's makin' more of it than she should."

Gkika gets badly wounded on a raid. To her surprise, she is rescued by a mysterious man who seems neither human nor Jӓger; a man who is determined that she live to fight. Gkika would prefer to crawl under a rock and die of embarrassment.

AO3 Link

Damn.

Damn.

Don’t get confident. Her father had drilled that into her head over and over and over. Don’t. Get. Confident. Always assume your enemy is better than you, and fight accordingly.

But nooo, Gkika was the bigshot raider now, Gkika rode with the Jӓgers, Gkika had made it through two raids without a scratch, Gkika was invincible.

Und now, hyu got three whole arrows in hyu, cauz hyu so good at dis.

The one in her side had hit her ribs. She could have pushed through that pain, but the two in her thigh… There was a reason she was crawling her way through the stagnant water at the bottom of the ditch—which would mean infection even if she could get out of here.

There were no tryouts for riding with the Jӓgers, no tests, no athletic requirements. You either lived long enough and fought well enough to be offered the draught, or you didn’t. If she died here, would they even find her body? Would they all say she’d died because she wasn’t good enough, or would they think she panicked and ran? Like a coward.

If she could just get out of the damn ditch.

As if in immediate response to the thought, something grabbed her by the straps of her leather cuirass and hauled her up. Gkika thrashed wildly, her jaw clenched tight—absolutely no screaming, not for anyone’s amusement. The arrow in her side caught on the dirt wall of the ditch, and the pain—

Gkika woke slowly. Her wounds still throbbed a dull, burning ache. She felt pressure on her stomach and something hooked onto her belt. But she wasn’t dead or caged or being torn to pieces by angry villagers, and that was a good start.

Her face was pressed against something soft. She cracked open her eyes and saw a wall of rough green fabric. Where was she?

“Ivan vill be okay if ve tie him to de horse,” said a voice. “Alrik is still breathink but he von’t vake up. His head iz all fonny lookink.”

“Make a sling and take him home. At this point, the Heterodyne is the only one who can put him to rights, if anyone can.”

The voice wasn’t familiar, but the way it rumbled right through her made Gkika realize she was slung over a shoulder like a sack of flour, held in place by a hand on her belt. Gkika shut her eyes again, and felt humiliation rise in her face like a sunrise.

“Found a couple of de town boys, too, dead.”

Oh no. She knew that voice.

“Did you take care of it?

“Ya, ve found some canvas und wrapped dem up. Got deir hats, too.”

That was Goomblast, the biggest mouth in the world literally and figuritively! Who everyone knew had been personally told by Zog that he’d be made a general as soon as he learned how to keep a secret for two seconds in a row! By sundown, every person in camp would know about this—Mechanicsburg would know about this—the Polar Lords would know. Subterranean mole people who had never seen the sun would know that Gkika had run headfirst into a hail of arrows like the idiot she was.   

“Good. Go back to camp, get them buried, get Alrik to the Heterodyne. Don’t wait up—I need to patch this one up, first.”

“Heh. No kiddink.”

Gkika barely heard the sound of the Jӓgers leaving over the flood of her own mortification.

After a few moments, the voice said

“They’re gone now. You can stop pretending.”

Gkika let out a long, miserable groan.

“Just leaf me to die,” she pleaded.

“No, I don’t think I’m going to do that.”

Her “rescuer” did not put Gkika down, and Gkika couldn’t walk anyway so knew there was no point in getting mad about it. So while he carried her through the forest—with no sign of obvious effort—she hung there and let herself wallow in self pity.

An eternity later, he said, “I’m going to put you down now.”

“Good. Leaf me here.”

His response was to sigh and—with infuriating care—lay her down at the mouth of a cave. Gkika refused to look at him.

“I’m going to check if it’s clear. Don’t go anywhere.”

“Oh, hyu so funny.”

He disappeared inside. After a moment, there was a cacophany of growling and hissing, and Gkika considered using that as cover to go find a rock to crawl under. But no, she wouldn’t get very far, and it would be all the more humiliating to have him drag her back.

The man emerged, cleaning blood off of his sword. Gkika glanced at him to see that his face was familiar enough that she knew she’d seen it around camp, but not so familiar she had a name or background to attach to it.

Without a word, he sheathed his sword and scooped her up again.

This time she examined him more closely. He didn’t look that much older than she was, or less human. The strength said Jӓger, the lack of fangs said new Jӓger, but the way he’d given orders spoke of an authority that no freshmade Jӓger would be granted.

He gently lay Gkika down on a bedroll already spread out, and began to putter around the gave, seemingly oblivious to Gkika’s wary watchfulness as he moved spider-wolf corpses out of the way and lit a fire.

Then he rolled up his sleeves, and Gkika saw a spiderweb of scars across his skin, more than any human could survive in the space of a single military career.

“Vut is hyu?” she demanded.

“Name’s Agnar,” he said. “Though I might change it soon. It’s getting a little out-dated.”

Gkikg was about to point out that that was not what she’d asked, when Agnar began to set out bandages, ointments, and unpleasantly sharp looking little tools.

“I told you I wasn’t leaving you to die,” Agnar said, though Gkika hadn’t spoken. 

He helped Gkika to lie back, and propped up her side so he could get at the arrow. Then he handed her a thick piece of wood, which Gkika set between her teeth. Fancy Heterodyne medical mumbo jumbo or no, this was going to hurt.

Gkika threw her arm over her eyes. 

“Hy vvff hy vff fff.”

Agnar removed the stick.

“Hy vish Hy vuz dead,” Gkika said.

Agnar replaced the stick.

“You’re going to wish it even more in a second.”

He was very right.

Gkika nearly cracked the stick in half, and did not judge herself for the tears of pain that streamed down her face as she fought to keep still. She passed out twice: once when he’d pulled the first of the arrows from her leg, the second time when it was over, out of sheer relief.  

When she woke, she was bandaged, the pain was a thobbing ache, and Agnar was cleaning his hands with something sharp and metallic smelling. For a few minutes, she watched him pack away the supplies in silence.

“Vy?” she asked at last.

“Hmm?” he said, not looking up as he began to slice a hunk of spider-wolf meat off the bone.

“Vy stay und risk hyuself to help me?”

“Ain’t much of a risk.” 

“If de pipple from dot town find us, dey vill kill uz both.”

“If they find us, they will certainly try,” Agnar agreed. He speared the meat on a spit and set it over the fire.

“Hy izn’t even a Jäger! Hy is just vun of de idiots dot rides vit dem. Vy vaste hyu time?”

“Not a waste.”

“Hyu iz avoiding de qvestion.”

“Heh. Spose I am.”

Gkika pushed herself up on her elbows and glared at him. He at last looked up at her and tucked a smile away in the corner of his mouth; held up his hands in surrender.

“You think you’re the first person to ride with the Jӓgers to almost get themselves killed doing somethin’ stupid? Most people who go riding with the Jӓgers die doing somethin’ stupid.” He paused, thoughtfully. “Most Jӓgers, too, come to that.”

“So?”

Agnar’s expression grew more serious.

“You didn’t get killed doing somethin’ stupid. You survived doing somethin’ stupid. Hit with three arrows, fell into a ditch, stuck in there for nearly five hours, and you were still movin’ around when I found you. I could have put you on a horse, same as Ivan, but that’d run the risk of more damage. As it is, if you’re careful about keeping the wounds clean and you go see a doctor when we get home, you’ll be fighting fit in time for the next raid.

“I said it wasn’t a waste, and I meant it. A person tough enough to survive taking three arrows makes for a good fighter. But a person who can keep going after that, who can push through the pain, who can flat out refuse to die? That is the kind of person who survives the Jägerdraught.”

Gkika stared at him. Agnar did not respond, but waited for her reaction.

“Hy neffer said Hy vanted to be a Jäger.”

“But you do.”

Gkika looked away.

“There’s two types of people who ride with the Jägers: the ones who do it for fun, and the ones who don’t. The Heterodyne doesn’t look for Jägers in the ones who are here for the fun, and the only way he knows which is which is if someone tells him.”

“Hy iz not ready yet,” Gkika muttered. “Hy’z not good enough.”

“It ain’t about when you think you’re good enough. It’s about when the Heterodyne thinks you’re good enough. Let me tell you: it takes a hell of a lot less time to learn to be a good fighter than it does to learn to ignore the part of you that worries you’re not good enough.”

“Hy vill be!” Gkika growled.

“Sure. But you’ll be ready before you feel ready. S’how it goes for pretty much everybody. It’s natural,” he assured her, pulling a pipe out of his pocket. “When we get back to camp, go to one of the generals and tell them you want to be considered.”

She snorted.

“Zog vould neffer allow it. He hates me.”

“You annoy him,” Agnar corrected. “Which, to be fair, you do on purpose.”

Gkika scowled.

“Iz not my fault he can’t take a joke,” she muttered.

“Fortunately for you, Zog does not get to decide who becomes a Jäger. The Heterodyne does. And if Zog puts in a bad word for you with the Heterodyne—not that I think he will, but if he does—I’ll put in a good one.”

Gkika snorted.

“Und de Heterodyne vill listen to you,” she said, disdainfully.

Agnar reached into the fire with his bare hands and drew out a red-hot coal. He lit the pipe, tossed the coal into the fire, dusted off his steaming fingers, and leaned back against the cave wall. 

“Yup.”

It struck Gkika all at once, and she opened her mouth. Then she shut it.

“If Hy say vut Hy tink hyu is,” she said, carefully, “und Hy iz right, iz dot a ‘hyu heff to kill me’ type ting?”

There was a gleam in Agnar’s eyes, but it seemed like a good one.

“Tough and smart. That’s good.”

Gkika decided to take that as a yes.

She ate the spiderwolf meat, which was gamey and strange, but filling, and fell asleep. When she woke, night had fallen and the fire was banked to coals. Agnar was staring into the dull red glow and smoking his pipe, the two lights casting strange shadows on his face. He looked no older than before, but the proportions of his face were…off, somehow.

“Vut if dey make fun ov me?” she asked.

“For what? Taking an arrow to the ribs and living to tell about it?”

“For needink to be rescued.”

“Oh, they’ll give you grief for it, no ifs about it. If you laugh with them, or make the jokes yourself, it’ll die down faster. Fightin’ ‘em on it just encourages them. But laughing at you ain’t the same as losing respect for you, which is what you’re actually worried about.”

Gkika scowled.

“Und hyu know me so vell, do hyu?”

“I’ve known people like you.”

“Haff dis conversation a lot, den?”

“Only when I think it’ll work,” he said. “And only when I think it’s worth it.”  

Agnar put out his pipe and lay down beside the fire, tipping his hat over his eyes.

“Rest up. We leave at dawn.”

“Vill Hy be able to valk by den?”

“A little bit.”

“You iz going to carry me again, izn’t hyu.”

“Only to my horse. You’ll ride, I’ll walk.”

“Sidesaddle,” Gkika said, suddenly. “Like a fancy lady.”  

Agnar didn’t tip his cap up, but she saw him smile. They fell silent, the night hush falling in around them.

“Tenk hyu,” Gkika said, suddenly. “For puttink me back togedder. Und de odder ting. Hy owe hyu—”

Agnar waved a lazy hand.

“Relax, kid. It was a little patch up and a pep talk. Nothin’ to hold over yourself.”

Gkika decided to say nothing, for now, but in her heart knew she owed this man more than she could ever repay in a single lifetime.

But Hy vill have plenty of lifetimes, she thought, determination settling in her bones. Because Hy vill be a Jӓger.