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lavenderbang · 9 months ago

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Felix And Your Tavern; Chapter 2

A/N: Okay so I’m back by popular demand because I LOVE LEE FELIX AND SO DO YALL!!! Anyways, doing this part in bullet points too, so sorry if you were expecting me to make an actual well written fic cause this is not it. As usual, forgive any spelling errors, I ALWAYS miss some on my proof reading cause my word vomit is insane. Anyways, enjoy!

Part I Part II

Warning(s): alcohol, swearing, also some talk about death, but that’s about it. Reader has the title of wife.

HES SO !!!

It was late autumn when you brought the idea up to Felix about getting a bar-hand for the Tavern.

With the weather getting colder, people were more likely to want a hot meal with their drink, which meant that Felix was getting a bit too busy managing both the kitchen and the bar by himself.

And with you serving the tables, keeping track of all the payments, and dealing with the inn residency, you were too busy to pick up his slack.

Felix knew this.

it made logical sense

but it made him anxious to no end...

“My Love, I understand. But we can’t trust anyone.” He said with a frown. You nodded along, wiping the bartop with a rag. When you looked up at your husband, you mirrored his frown.

“I know. That’s why we don’t tell them anything.” You countered, tossing your rag in the sink. You then went around to the tables and began removing the chairs from the top of them, tucking them in their rightful spot underneath.

You were to open for the evening soon, so Felix began to help you prepare by taking chairs off the tables and putting them in their places as well.

“They won’t need to know anything besides we own a tavern and an inn, and that we need their help.” You hummed, dusting off your hands on your thighs and returning to the bar, where Felix was removing the final stool.

You looped your arms around his waist and pulled him closer to you. He gazed into your eyes and you swore you still got butterflies when he stared.

“We need the help, Dear.” You whispered, focusing more on the beating of your lover’s heart than the actual conversation

and with the way Felix was gazing at your lips, it seems like he wasn’t too focused on the conversation anymore either.

“I know we do.” He sighed in defeat, before letting his heart take over and place a kiss on your lips.

When you parted, you smiled at him

You’ll never get used to the feeling of kissing Felix

it always gave you this light, airy feeling in your chest.

Pushing off him, you went back to work, not before placing one last peck on his cheek.

“I’ll post a notice by the door.” You hummed, taking the clean cups from where you left them to dry and hang them on the wine track above the bar

That night, you got a few inquiries about the job, but nobody who seemed truly interested.

But your saving grace came through the door well into the evening.

Hwang Hyunjin.

He was an occasional visitor at your little tavern, opting to come once or twice a week to have a drink and then go off to wherever he went

you honestly didn’t know what he did at night after his visit at the bar.

nor did you think it was you place to ask

none of your business, you supposed

but he always ordered the same thing; red wine and some fresh bread.

all you knew about him was he was a hunter.

Well, you assumed he was a hunter

He would tell stories of being out in the wild woods, how beautiful the world looked from under the green canopies with nothing but the grass under your feet, wind against your skin and the moon in the sky

You liked Hyunjin.

He was always very kind to you and Felix while being at the bar

as well as respected other patrons

not to mention, he never asked questions about your personal life

he only ever asked about what your plans for the future were and stories from the days he didn’t come in

Felix liked Hyunjin too.

He made sure to compliment Felix’s cooking and always left a bit of a tip ‘for excellent company and even more excellent food’

Hyunjin was a good guy in Felix’s mind, no matter what the other patrons said.

some thought he was odd because he preferred to be alone and was very private, but that never really bothered Felix

Hyunjin was nice to him and you

always was.

“Why hello stranger!” You joked, serving the man at his usual table near the back of the tavern

it was closest to the area you had musicians come perform.

Hyunjin always enjoyed the music when he came in

“The usual I presume?” You asked, to which Hyunjin nodded, with a smile.

You returned quickly with his usual order, setting the glass of wine down carefully

Felix liked to fill it to the brim when it was for Hyunjin

“What’s new?” Hyunjin asked, taking a sip from his full glass. You tucked the serving tray you had under your arm before shifting your weight more comfortably on your feet.

“Nothing much. Winter is coming soon, so we’ll have to start preparing the inn for that.” You hummed, letting a humorous grin play on your features as an image popped into you head, “I’ll have to get Felix to start chopping fire wood.”

“I think that is much more of a job for you, not him” Hyunjin laughed, taking a bite of the warm bread you had brought him, “I don’t quite peg Felix as a manual labor kind of guy...”

“You’d be surprised!” You said with a grin, “I’ll have you know, Felix worked as a farmhand for half a year to support us.”

“Now that I don’t believe!” Hyunjin chuckled, taking one more sip from his drink, “Felix is so skilled with domestic things like cooking and keeping clean, I would have never guessed.”

“I guess Felix is good at a lot of things.” You said simply, brushing a stray hair away from your face.

“Speaking of jobs, I see you’re hiring?” Hyunjin asked, nodding his head towards the door where your little parchment was hanging.

“We are.” You turned to look at the posting before smiling back at Hyunjin, “know anyone who would be interested?”

Hyunjin hummed, swirling his drink in his glass a few times before downing the remaining alcohol.

“I’d be interested.” He said, seriousness evident in his demeanor,

“that is, if you would want me?”

You perked up at the offer.

Hyunjin seemed like a good fit for the job

He was charismatic and seemed to be able to think and act quickly

not to mention both you and Felix already got along well with him and he knew the Tavern well from his visits.

“I’ll have to speak with Felix, but I think you’d be a fine fit for the position. Can you maybe come in tomorrow at noon?”

“Sounds lovely.”

“Great! Me and Felix will talk tonight and ask you some questions tomorrow, but truthfully, I don’t see why you wouldn’t be a perfect addition to our operation here.”

Hyunjin smiled with a nod, before standing and bidding you a farewell. He placed the coins he owed on the table before leaving, weaving gracefully between the tables and other patrons

Felix agreed before you even needed to explain your thoughts

If you had to get a bar-hand, Hyunjin was your best bet.

And Hyunjin enjoyed his work at your tavern

It always had felt like a second home to him

well, besides the woods of course.

He felt welcomed by you and Felix!

so spending every evening there was nice, especially now that it was getting cold outside

and he always needed to make more money so he’d be able to live.

And yes, Hyunjin made sure to never ask about your personal lives

because it was truly none of his business to ask you beyond what you were willing to share

However, he wasn’t stupid.

He wasn’t exactly sure about your past with Felix, but he tended to notice things when he would come in.

How you avoided talking about where you and Felix came from before landing in here in Miroh

or why you didn’t have any family or other friends.

or even where you got the long, silver bow that hung behind the bar.

You were good people, who never gave Hyunjin any reason to question that.

So he thought it best to just keep quiet

Working at the Tavern went much more smoothly after Hyunjin joined in

Felix mostly stayed in the kitchen now, but he also helped take a bit of the load off you too by dealing with the inn residences

and Hyunjin worked the bar well, never forgetting to serve the counter as he prepared your orders from the tables with an equal amount of quality and haste.

for months, this system worked well!

even when the dead of winter rolled around and the inn and tavern were at its all time peak in patrons due to the cold weather.

It was another night like this where the bar was packed and many people were sat and stood around the tables

You had a man singing today, his voice beautifully ringing throughout the tavern for all to hear.

You reminded Felix to make a plate up for him for when he was done his performance.

(You think he was named Seungmin? Rumor had it he was once a court musician for the Duchess of the Central Valley before he was dismissed)

You were slipping through the people, trying your best not to bump into anyone or knock your tray over when you felt it.

sharp eyes burning through you.

You made a quick glance around the room when your eyes met with a man in the corner of the room.

He was accompanied by two more men, all of which seemed to be skilled adventurers.

You kept your composure under the man’s scrutinous gaze, however you couldn’t help the sick feeling in your stomach.

You looked away, turning and standing at the bar. You placed your tray down for Hyunjin to put your order on it.

“Jin,” You called, earning a hum form the man behind the bar, “That group in the back. Who are they?”

Hyunjin let his eyes float to the table you were referencing before slightly frowning at you.

“Travelers. I’ve only heard passing whispers about them, but they are known around these parts as 3racha.”

“And?”

“All I know about them is that they often take many quests and wander the lands slaying monsters.”

“Hmm. Thank you.”

You took a deep breath, trying to shake the nerves you felt from being so close to adventurers.

it was the first time you’d ever encountered bounty hunters, and it scared you shitless.

Approaching their table, you put on the brightest smile you could as your eyes locked onto the one who wouldn’t stop staring

A stoic looking fellow with a fur cloak draped across his broad frame.

to his left, a shorter, stronger man holding a large claymore and a nasty look.

and his right was a pretty, squirrelly man that you could feel had this aura of magic surrounding him

You could tell they were strong just from the atmosphere they created around them

“Hello gentlemen, what can I do for you this evening?” You said, tone even.

You weren’t even sure if they were here for you, but you felt defensive nonetheless

The man with the cloak hummed, eyes not breaking contact with yours

“We hear you are famous for your baked goods.” He spoke confidently, voice coming out with an accent, “What would you suggest?”

“My husband spent all morning baking cranberry tarts.” You said, tucking a stray hair behind your ear as you smiled softly, “I would recommend that. We also have a fine selection of beverages if you feel so inclined.”

“Your husband?” The Big man asked, digging the tip of his claymore into the wood of the floor, before he looked up at you, “You mean the man behind the bar?”

“No, that is our bar-hand.” You answered simply, before quipping back, “Why do you ask? Perhaps you have an interest in him? I can introduce you, if you’d like.”

Pretty man let out a chuckle at your joke, before trying to cover it with a cough. Big man’s face heated up in what you could only assume was embarrassment or irritation, before your attention was directed back to the man in the cloak.

You blinked innocently at him, holding your tray limply at your side.

You felt like you were on trial as he stared at you. The tension seemed thick before he cleared his throat and grinned.

It made you feel even more unsettled...

“Tarts sound wonderful. We’ll take three.” He spoke politely, to which you nodded and retreated behind the bar into the kitchen for the pastries.

Felix was working there, washing dishes and humming a tune to himself with a small smile on his face.

It made you happy to see him so carefree.

You came up behind him, wrapping your arms around your husband’s torso.

You could feel the beating of your heart in your throat, and for once it wasn’t from Felix...

“Hey Love.” He cheered, turning his head to be able to place a chaste kiss on your lips, “Busy night, huh?”

“Very.” You chuckled breathlessly, trying not to let the sickness pooling in your stomach read on your face.

You didn’t want to worry Felix with the trouble of 3racha

As much as you loved Felix’s emotional side, it was sometimes a curse.

one that you didn’t need right now when you were barely holding on yourself.

besides, you weren’t even sure if it was trouble yet.

it could be just a feeling of unease and paranoia getting the better of you...

“I’m here for the tarts, A table just ordered some.” You said as nonchalantly as possible.

Felix beamed, eyes lighting up upon hearing that someone wanted to eat his baking.

as if it wasn’t a normal occurrence for people to ask specifically for Felix’s food

“Ask them how it tastes.” He said excitedly, drying his hands on the towel near the sink before helping placing some on a plate and hand them to you, “I tried a new recipe and I need to know if its good.”

“Will do, Dear.” You said with a smile. You eyes fell upon Felix and you felt your chest heave with anxiety and your heart squeeze with worry.

Before you could even think about it, you set the tray down on the counter and wrapped your arms tightly around your husband

Even though he was confused on why you hugged him unprompted, he didn’t hesitate to hug you back, holding you close to him.

you stayed like that for a moment, taking in his scent before sighing.

“I love you so much, you know.” You whispered dreamily, causing Felix to squeeze your body tighter.

“I love you too.” He replied, and you could hear the grin in his voice, making you grin too. When you finally let him go, you placed one more kiss on his soft lips, letting it fuel you enough to go back out there and face whatever was in store for you.

And when you did return to the table, placing the tarts on the wooden surface gently, you willed yourself to be calm and to appear as cheerful as possible

even if your instincts were screaming.

“Thank you, Darling.” The man in the cloak said with a smile. The name sounded like poison coming from his lips and you resisted the urge to grimace.

“Is that all for you, gentlemen?” You asked sweetly, hoping to be done with this interaction and get back to work.

You were sure this feeling was just paranoia and you were overreacting

yes, this must all be a misunderstanding and-

“Actually I have a few questions for you, if you don’t mind.” The man with the cloak answered seriously; Big man and Pretty man were much to busy eating to even speak, which would have been kinda endearing if you weren’t sick to your stomach.

“What can I help you with?” You asked, cringing at the fact that your tone came out a bit more shaky than intended

“I’ll be straight with you, we are adventurers. And we have come to these lands on a quest.”

“ah, I see...”

“Looking for the kidnapped prince from Clé. I’m sure you’ve heard of him by now?”

You felt your heart drop to your stomach as you nodded along to the man’s words. You felt a burning in your throat and you could barely trust yourself to be able to speak.

“Rumor has it, he is being hid away somewhere in this area.” The man in the cloak watched you intently, a wicked grin adorning his features, “You wouldn’t happen to know about that, would you?”

His associates stopped eating for a moment, gazing up at you.

You felt like you were suffocating in this moment.

Like you were drowning, everything around you slowed and you took a breath, hopefully to steady yourself enough before replying.

“I don’t, sorry.” You said weakly, feeling like a mouse caught in a trap.

“Now, we all know that’s not true, (Y/N).” The cloaked man said bluntly, leaning his elbows on the table and tilting his head slightly.

You stared back at him helplessly, feeling like you were an inch tall under the man’s gaze.

He knew you.

He knew your name.

It was like someone pumped your body with lead as you stood staring at the man.

“Y’know, these tarts are very good. I’d love to tell your husband myself how good they are.” The Pretty man hummed, batting his eyelashes at you tauntingly, “What did you say his name was?”

“Felix. His name is Felix.” You said firmly, willing all the strength you have in your body to standing upright.

“How much would you bet that your husband bares a resemblance to Prince Yongbok, hm?” The Big man asked, before pulling out a parchment with a portrait on it. You glanced down and immediately recognized it as Felix on the painting of the royal family that was in the dinning room of the castle.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. My husband isn’t the prince.” You said weakly, clearing your throat, earning a grimace from the cloaked man in front of you.

“If there is one thing I hate more than kidnappers,” He growled, gaze cold, “It’s kidnappers who lie.”

You could see out of your peripheral Big man grip his claymore as if he was ready to draw it on you.

You didn’t want to start a fight in the tavern while it was full and busy

but you were damn sure not going to let these men ruin everything you and Felix built.

so you did the only thing you could in the moment.

“I don’t lie.” You explained stiffly, narrowing your eyes at the men, “If anything, whatever you’ve heard about that situation is the lie.”

You were hoping to buy yourself some time to think of a way to defuse the situation

perhaps even lead the men outside for a confrontation instead?

That didn’t seem like an option when the man in the cloak chuckled, clearly irritated by your words. He moved his cloak out of the way to reveal the shiny steel of a sword hilt.

but before he could say another word, you felt a warm hand wrap around your shoulder.

Hyunjin.

Your beam of light in the darkness.

“Hey fellas, what seems to be the problem here?” He spoke smoothly, expression light as he held you firmly.

“Nothing.” The cloaked man said, before smiling at Hyunjin. He readjusted his cloak to cover his sword back up, “Just enjoying these lovely cranberry tarts and wanting to tell the chef.”

“Oh, he’s very busy tonight,” Hyunjin chuckled, gesturing around the room before landing his eyes back on the three men at the table, “My dear master here will be sure to tell the chef you enjoyed them though, don’t worry!”

“Splendid.” The man with the cloak said, features bright as his gaze still bore into you face.

You couldn’t help the uneasiness you felt, but with Hyunjin there you knew it wold be okay for now.

“Is that all? My master has many patrons to attend to.” Hyunjin asked with ease. You were almost in awe at how he seemed so unshaken and was so easily able to release all the tension in the air.

“erm.... well...” The man in the cloak mumbled before Pretty man’s face lit up.

“Indeed!” He cheered, glancing between you and Hyunjin, “We require a room to stay in.”

“Excellent.” Hyunjin hummed with a bow, before gesturing to you, “my master will go prepare your key and room for you, if you’ll wait here.”

He quickly sent you away, not without a look of worry that you dismissed with a nod and a weak smile.

You hoped that your expression conveyed how grateful you were to Hyunjin

Because the moment you got to the back to grab a key, you took a sigh of relief.

You were okay for now, but you knew this was just prolonging the inevitable.

so when you closed up for the night and laid down in your room to sleep, you didn’t forget to put the long, silver dagger you owned between your mattress and the frame; hilt out for quick access.

And while Felix failed to notice this, he didn’t fail to notice how on edge you were.

He stripped from his work pants, eyeing you anxiously fiddling with the sheets below you and staring off into space.

“What has you so troubled, My Love?” Felix asked softly, folding his work clothes and placing them on a chair across the room.

“Hm?” You looked up at Felix’s broad back before he turned to face you, eyes soft and face gentle, “Nothing.”

Felix hummed disapprovingly, walking to where you sat on the bed and knelt in front of you.

He laced his hands with yours, studying your face before placing a kiss to your knuckles.

“You can tell me anything, you know?” Felix said

“I know.”

“Then tell me, what is on your mind?”

“I guess it’s just...” You start. You look into Felix’s eyes and feel a sense of warmth.

He always brought you comfort, his empathetic nature was one of the best parts about how in touch with his feelings he was; you always loved that about him.

“I love you so much, it’s painful sometimes.” You begin again, taking a deep breath and bringing Felix’s hand to your cheek. He reacts immediately, cupping your face gently and smoothing his thumb over your cheekbone, face full of worry.

“I’m so happy with you and we’ve worked so hard, I worry sometimes how easily it can all be taken away. How you can be taken away.” You explained, feeling the stress finally spill over as you release a few tears, “Life has no meaning without you. I just get scared sometimes it’s all going to disappear.”

Felix stands before finding his place beside you on the bed, coming so close you can feel his breath across your face.

his heart felt like it was going to explode at your words.

of course he’s had anxieties and worries too

but he’s able to get through it because you’re always there

you’re his stable rock telling him it’s okay and as long you are together, everything will be fine

so he needs to be that for you now.

“Come here, lay with me.” He suggests, pulling you down so you lay in his grasp.

he is warm under you, like the midday sun.

You can count the freckles on his beautiful faces from this distance, like stars painted on an angel.

“I know it’s scary,” Felix begins. His deep voice is resonating in his chest against your head as he smooths his hands up and down your shoulders and back soothingly,

“I love you more than words can describe, (Y/N). And I promise you, as long as I’m still living, I will do everything in my power to be with you. I’ll keep you safe and happy, until my dying breath.”

“I love you.” You confessed again in a hushed tone, nuzzling your face into his neck. Felix grinned to himself, feeling giddy as if it was the first time he’d heard you say those three magic words.

“I love you too.” He repeated, squeezing you slightly.

You laid with Felix in the dark for what seemed like and eternity, with Felix lazily stroking your back and placing soft pecks on your head before he allowed himself to slip into the sweet release of sleep.

But not you.

You stayed awake, listing to the evenness of Felix’s breathing as you relished in his hold.

it felt like the last time you’d feel it.

It was well into the twilight when he came; the man in the cloak.

He moved quietly, only the sound of his feet padding against the wooden floorboards could be heard as he entered the room

he was illuminated by the light of a single lantern, just bright enough to see your sleeping figure.

carefully, he drew his sword and placed the tip at your throat, ready to strike you where you laid.

but he hesitated when he saw Felix grasping onto you so tenderly

why would he..?

“I expected you to come.” you whispered, your bleary eyes reflecting the light of the flame. It shook the man to his core how calm you seemed

“Yet you still housed me and my party...” He said, voice low and deep. you shifted ever so slightly as not to wake Felix or be stabbed through the neck

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t run you through.” He asked firmly, eyes cold and sharp as he stared down at your tired face.

But you had prepared.

You gracefully swing your arm up so the tip of your dagger laid at his chest. You expression showed no fear, much unlike the man’s, although he did his best to stay composed.

“You want to kill me? do it.” You said simply, pushing the blade closer to the man, “But be prepared to pay with your life.”

Just then, Felix shifted slightly and you freeze.

You would hate to wake him, even now when your life was potentially moments from ending.

The man froze in place too as Felix pulled you closer to him and took a deep breath, seemingly at ease by your presence.

This made no sense...

you sighed, removing the dagger from the man’s chest only slightly.

“Listen, if you’re going to kill me, please not here. I don’t want to wake him.” You begged quietly, eyes softening at the man in front of you.

He was still for a moment before nodding solemnly at you. He backed away enough for you to wriggle out of Felix’s grasp.

However, your movement caused your husband to stir.

“mhhmmm... where are you going, My Love?” He slurred, eyes closed and body still heavy on the bed, but clear concern in his voice.

This behavior confused the man even more as he watched you give Felix’s hand a gentle squeeze.

“Bathroom. I’ll be right back.” You lied with an endearing grin, petting his hair lovingly. The prince hummed before rolling over, facing the far wall and falling back to sleep.

You turned to the man and nodded towards the door, where you both exited.

Placing your dagger and his lantern on the bar, you pulled out two glasses from their places on the drying rack.

“What are you doing?” He asked, voice laced with an uncertainty.

“Well,” You began, grabbing a bottle of wine from behind the bar and uncorking it, “If you’re going to kill me, I’d much prefer to have a drink first, wouldn’t you? It’s on the house.”

The man stared at you for a moment before pulling a stool down and sitting at the bar, sword laying in his lap.

You silently poured the wine into the two glasses, sliding one across the bar to him.

You take a drink from your glass, feeling a sense of dread deep down in your stomach

but it was smothered but this horrifying numb feeling of the inevitability of this situation.

“Can I ask you something?” The man asked after what seemed like an eternity.

“shoot.”

“Why did you do it? Why did you kidnap the prince?”

“I told you, that’s a lie.” You swirled your drink around in your glass before taking another sip of it.

It tasted bitter as it washed down your throat, but you weren’t sure if it was truly from the alcohol or because of what this man was accusing you of.

“Then what is the truth?” The man mumbled, eyes down as he circled the rim of his glass. His lips were drawn into a thin line as you smiled weakly at his request.

“The truth is, we were in love. We are in love.” You hummed, leaning your elbows on the bartop before continuing.

“Its funny, it was actually his idea to leave, you know.”

“What happened?”

“Oh gosh, where do I even begin?”

And you told the man everything; how you began working in the castle as his courtier, how you fell in love, how he got the name Felix, the engagement, the ball, buying the tavern.

Everything.

When you finished, you downed the remainder of your drink and put the glass in the sink calmly.

The man said nothing all throughout your story, and even now he stayed silent. He stared down at the bartop, conflict running in his mind.

“You expect me to believe that?” He finally said, looking up at you. His expression was softer now, almost apologetic.

“Believe what you want.” You said with a shrug, grabbing the hilt of your dagger and holding it at your side, “But you better believe you’ll have to kill me before you are able to lay a hand on Felix. And even if you do kill me, because you know I won’t go down without a fight, good luck bringing Felix back to that wretched place in one piece. He would rather die than go back there and live as the prince.”

The man sat in silence for a moment, trying to read you; see if you have spoke any untruths.

But he couldn’t seem to find any in your tired eyes.

“You know,” The man sighed, grabbing his sword by the hilt, “I pride myself on being a man of honor. One who has a good morality and always does what’s right, no matter the consequences.”

He sheathed his sword and held his hand out for you to shake.

“I want to believe you. Based on everything you’ve said, this place, even how the pri-.... Felix was behaving, I trust you.”

You shake the man’s hand, letting out a deep breath that you didn’t know you were holding.

“Thank you.” You whispered, feeling like you were going to cry from all the tension you had stored up for the past 12 hours.

“I’ll be sure to explain to my colleagues the situation. I’m sure they’ll understand your predicament. Especially Jisung.”

You nodded, but your confusion on who that was must have read on your face because the man in front of you chuckled tiredly.

“I forgot, you don’t even know our names...” The man hummed, before grinning at you, “The name’s Chan.”

“Nice to meet you, now that you aren’t pointing a blade at my face.” You snickered, feeling relieved at the newfound ally-ship of Chan.

“I wont keep you up any longer, (Y/N).” Chan said, bowing at you. You bowed back at him, turning to retreat back to your room

back into your husbands grasp.

But you remembered something.

“Oh, one last thing!” You called back to Chan, who was already at the bottom of the stairs to go back to him room. He looked at you perplexedly, but stopped anyways to let you speak.

“Felix wanted to know how the tarts tasted? He was so happy someone ordered some.” You grinned. Chan let out a breathless laugh, the corners of his mouth curling upwards at your question.

“Tell him they were fantastic. I’m pretty sure my colleague Changbin wants some for the road.” Chan replied, showing off a set of dimples. You nodded before waving the man off, retreating back to your room.

You swore, you have never slept as good as you did that night after your encounter with Chan.

You would also occasionally see 3racha come back to your tavern time and time again

usually when they were in the area for a quest, but they never failed to spend the night and try whatever was specially made that day.

and because of them, you put up a Quest board by the door for people who had odd jobs and were looking for adventurers to complete them.

Things calmed down a bit after that

You were glad, cause it meant you got to spend much more time with Felix, which was nice.

Some nights Felix would hear a song he particularly liked and would emerge from the kitchen to pick you out of the crowd and dance with you.

You always felt happiest in those few moment holding his hands as he twirled you around and sang off key

and on the particularly cold nights, after you were all closed up for the evening,

Felix would read to you, with you snuggled up under his chin and his arms around you, illuminated only by the light of a single candlestick.

It began with simple short stories, but soon enough it became a nightly occurrence and Felix would read novels over the course of a week or two.

And when the snow eventually started to melt and spring rolled around, you would go out to the meadow just beyond the northern border of Miroh and have afternoon picnics.

Felix liked these days best.

You always looked so beautiful, basking in the warm sun while telling him about whatever juicy gossip you heard at the tavern that week.

It reminded him of the afternoons you would accompany him to the greenhouse at the castle, and how those were his favourite days back then too.

only now, you were his wife, and he was free to love you more wholeheartedly.

It was a sunny afternoon and you and Felix were simply enjoying each other’s company

he laid with his head in your lap as you talked about the newest shipment of ale you were to get tomorrow morning, your fingers mindlessly scratching at his scalp.

he let his eyes flutter shut, the sound of your voice and the smell of your skin putting Felix in a dreamy haze

He wasn’t sure how long he had been asleep for when you finally tapped delicately on his cheek.

“Hey, I’m so boring you fell asleep?” You teased, causing Felix to sigh and look up at you.

Felix swore you had to be an angel, especially in that moment.

“You could never bore me, My Love.” Felix replied, voice deep and groggy from just waking up.

He sat up and stretched his arms over his head, blinking his eyes a bit to adjust to the warm orange sun.

“We’d better get back, its almost time to open.” You urged your husband, reaching for the cutlery to put it in the basket you bought.

“I wanna stay here with you.” Felix whined playfully, scooting over to lean his head down on your shoulder.

“We cant stay here, we have to work.”

“whyyyyyy?”

“Because! If we don’t work, we can’t have yummy food to eat or books to read or a place to sleep when it gets cold.”

“That’s dumb. I want to just lay with you in the grass and listen to you talk and hold onto you and kiss you and not worry about anything.”

“I know, but life isn’t perfect like that, Dear.” You finished packing away all the plates and cutlery before placing a kiss on Felix’s head, “Besides, if we don’t open up our place for people to stay and be happy for a while, who will?”

Felix hummed, lifting his head to look at you before leaning in and kissing you.

This time it was longer

Felix felt so lovesick, much like he always does when it comes to you.

He willed all of his love into the kiss, holding you tenderly as you kissed him back with just as much fervor.

When you finally parted, you stood up and held your hand out for Felix. He gladly accepted it, standing too

You made your way down the cobblestone street, swinging your hands back and forth like children as you spoke about how lovely the weather had been the past few days

As you approached the tavern, you noticed there was a man sat on the steps out front

When you actually recognized him, you almost dropped your basket

Minho.

Upon noticing your arrival, he stood up, and blinked a couple times. He seemed like he was the one who was surprised you and Felix were there

He wore simple looking clothes, a cloak for travel, and no crown; this was probably to avoid crowds forming and too much attention…

Felix swore his heart stopped as he froze in place, locking eyes with his brother

He wanted to go to him; hug him and tell him how much he missed seeing Minho.

He had thought about writing to his older brother, but resisted to urge as he was afraid.

Minho wasn’t just his brother,

He was heir to the throne of Clé

Which meant he had responsibilities.

Ones that probably included bringing Felix back

So instead of going to Minho, greeting him lovingly, Felix held your hand tighter and swallowed heavily

“Yongbok.” The Prince gasped, a breathless chuckle passing through his lips as he approached the two of you, “so the rumours were true…”

Felix said nothing, only putting himself between you and Minho and taking a half step back.

He didn’t know why he had come, but his worst fear was you being taken from him.

Upon your reaction, Minho stopped, eyebrows quirked in confusion. His smile faded

“Why have you come?” Felix asked, expression firm, but he felt like he was made of jelly

You held his hand tightly, swiping your thumb gently across the back of it to help calm your husband down.

“For answers.” Minho replied, fingers fiddling with the hem of his tunic as he watched the two of you, “and to see you I guess…”

The Prince walked back closer to the door, nodding his head towards it, “I arrived a bit earlier and I didn’t get an answer, so I assumed you were out. May we talk more inside?”

“Did you come alone, your highness?” You asked, finally speaking up. You weren’t sure if you should treat Minho with formalities or not, but it felt wrong to address him any other way…

The Prince nodded, “I didn’t want too much attention if I didn’t end up finding you. So..?”

Minho once again gestured to the door and you looked at Felix, who still seemed to be glued to the spot on the walkway

In all honesty, he could barely sense anything besides the sound of the blood rushing in his ears and the feeling of your hand in his.

He felt like his brain was shutting down.

This situation didn’t feel real.

It couldn’t be real

“Dear, what do you want to do?”

It was real.

“What do you think?” Felix finally whispered, turning to you. You gazed into your husbands eyes to find panic residing in them

However, you felt oddly at ease

If Minho was alone, he wasn’t a threat to you

For now, at least

Besides, he already had all the information he needed to ruin your life

He found you.

What more damage could be done by inviting him in?

You nodded, urging Felix to go to his brother

Felix nodded, turning back to Minho, who looked at the two of you expectantly

Felix wordlessly approached the door, holding onto your hand still as he unlocked it, allowing the three of you to enter the tavern

Minho looked around the room; if he had any opinion on your tavern, he didn’t say. He simply stood by the bar, as you closed the door.

Felix was still staring at his brother. It had been so long, he almost didn’t remember what he looked like

Had he always had that hair colour?

“Uhm.. can I get you anything, your highness? Perhaps a tea or something stronger?” You asked tentatively, pulling down a couple of chairs at a table for them to sit at.

“Just tea, thank you.” Minho hummed, sitting at the table you prepared for them. You nodded, taking the basket back to the kitchen to put the dishes in the sink and prepare a pot of tea.

Felix still stood near the bar, feeling anxiety bubble up. The only ease he felt was the sound of you in the kitchen; it was the only thing that grounded him.

“What do you want?” Felix asked, crossing his arms over his chest. He missed Minho, but he couldn’t trust him right now.

“To talk” Minho stated, gesturing to the chair across from him. Felix hesitated, bouncing his leg nervously. Minho slyly grinned, “I don’t bite, Yongbok.”

“Don’t call me that.” Felix mumbled, finally coming over to the table and sitting down across from his brother.

He was still weary, but he knew you were close by if anything happened

“Oh yes, I’ve heard you have a new name. Felix, is it?” Minho asked, frowning as he tapped his fingers on the table and hummed, “Interesting choice. It suits you.”

“What do you want?” Felix repeated, leaning forward in his chair with his expression cold. Minho smiled again, playfully looking at the younger man.

“No need be defensive! I told you. I came for answers.” Minho said. You returned, teapot and a couple of teacups on a tray that you sat down the table. Minho thanked you with a smile, only for you to bow.

You felt unsure if you should sit

Technically, you didn’t work for the royal court anymore, but Minho was still royalty...

You decided to stay standing, placing a gentle hand on your husband’s shoulder to hopefully help ease him.

It did, as you felt Felix’s shoulders relax under your touch.

Minho poured himself some tea, the sweet citrus aroma filling the air; He quietly stirred in a spoon of sugar before tapping it against the rim of the teacup.

“First and foremost, It is nice to see you.” Minho hummed, blowing on his drink twice before taking a tentative sip.

Felix was quiet for only a moment before mumbling out “It’s nice to see you too.”

He meant it.

As much as he felt defensive and out of his element, it was nice to see his brother after all this time.

Minho grinned, looking down to his lap at the confession. He chewed his bottom lip nervously before taking another sip of tea

“You know, you really stirred up a lot of trouble back home.” Minho chuckled, lacing his fingers together and setting his hands on the table, “Do you know what mother has been telling people?”

Felix was quiet; he hadn’t heard anything from Clé since you left.

“That I kidnapped Felix.” You answered for him, causing Felix to look over at you. Your expression was unreadable, but you stared at Minho with some sort of resolve

The Prince looked to you, raising his eyebrows and scoffing.

“Exactly that. “The Trusted Courtier took weapons from the armory and forced The Helpless Prince Yongbok to leave with them, never to be seen again.”” Minho huffed in a sarcastic tone, crossing his arms over his chest, “Can you believe it? How absurd.”

“You don’t believe it?” You asked, eyebrows furrowed and lips drawn into an amused pout; Your expression could be described as cat-like; cautious, yet curious.

“How could I when I found this?” Minho laughed, pulling a folded parchment from out of his pants pocket and placing it on the table.

Felix picked it up and opened it, revealing his own handwriting.

He immediately closed it when he realized what it was, causing his brother to let out a laugh from deep in his chest.

“What is it Felix?” You asked, leaning over to look at your husband’s now reddening face.

“I noticed you took all of your journals and letters with you.” Minho hummed, before pointing at the parchment, “But it seems you must have forgotten one.”

“I- Well...” Felix stammered, looking between you and Minho. Sighing in defeat, he handed you the parchment and let you read it.

Your eyes lit up to see it was a letter

addressed to you.

from Felix.

“Dear (Y/N), I’m not sure I’ll ever be allowed to say this out loud, so I’m writing this letter. You’ll probably never see it; in fact, I intend to never give this to you, but I need to say this or else I’ll probably combust. I am in love with you (I can’t believe I just wrote that...). You’re so smart and so kind. I feel warm when I am around you. You are the only person I feel like truly understands me and I hope that you enjoy spending time with me like I enjoy spending time with you. The truth is, you make my days bearable. You are like the sun. The stars in the night sky. I had the realization I have been struck by Cupid’s arrow because I think about you at all hours. You are my muse; I wonder which flowers you like best while I tend to all of them in the garden. I take my dance lessons and I imagine you are my dance partner. When I lay in bed at night, I think about how I must fall asleep quickly in order to see you again. But what I think about most is if you feel this way about me too? I hope so. - Felix”

Minho watched you read the letter, eyes softening as your expression grew ever so brighter as your eyes flicked down the page.

Felix watched you too, clearly embarrassed by his younger self; but all that dissipated as he saw how bright you were.

“I don’t think someone would write something like that about their kidnapper.” Minho hummed, taking another sip of tea as you finished the letter. You folded it up and held onto to it for a moment, feeling your heart flutter at the words.

Of course, you knew Felix loved you more than anything. But it was special seeing how much he loved you and for how long he’s loved you.

You gazed lovingly at Felix, placing a quick kiss to his cheek. He smiled up at you, grabbing onto your hand that laid at his shoulder.

“So.” Minho cleared his throat, “Seeing as I found that, I knew that something else was going on. And I needed to find out for myself. So I followed the only lead I could find.”

“Rumors of a tavern in Miroh?” Felix deduced, to which his brother nodded, leaning back in his chair. He looked around the room before smiling softly.

“and it looks like the rumors were true.” Minho said looking between you and Felix.

A silence washed over you all for a moment. It seemed Minho was pretty understanding of what your relationship with Felix was

however, that didn’t necessarily mean he approved.

“So, what does it mean now that you know the truth?” Felix asked bluntly. Minho stared at him for a moment before leaning forward

“Are you happy?” Minho asked, tone serious as he laced his fingers together again and placed them on the table.

“More than I’ve ever been.” Felix said honestly, staring down his brother. Minho shook his head before letting out a sigh. His demeanor shifted a bit as you and Felix watched him seemingly have an internal struggle raging in his head. After a moment of silence, he pursed his lips and tapped his fingers on the table nonchalantly as he seemingly had made a decision.

“The truth is, I told myself if it really was you, I’d bring you home.” The Prince said simply. He looked down at the table, brushing a hand through his hair, “I thought you had made a rash and irresponsible decision and I was going to bring you back to where you belong. Of course, I’d leave (Y/N) alone. If I brought them back, Father would surely have their head...”

Felix’s grip on your hand tightened, his stomach dropping at his brother’s words.

Minho’s expression softened as he looked at the two of you, taking one last sip from his teacup.

“However, I see now this is where you belong.” Minho said with a nod. He gestured around the room, playful expression finding it way onto his face, “You have made quite a beautiful home here and you seem to be happier with (Y/N) than I’ve ever seen you be at the castle. It would be wrong of me to take that away, I think.”

“Minho...” Felix sighed with relief, thankfulness written all over his face, “I- I don’t know what to say.”

“Thank you, your highness.” You said, bowing at the prince. Minho shook his head and waved his hand, slight pout on his lips.

“There is no need for you to do that, (Y/N). You’re my brother's wife now, so consider the formalities negated.” He said, chuckling to himself, “Besides, I’m not the heir to the throne right now. I’m just a man who came to visit.”

“You should stay for the night.’ Felix exclaimed, smiling at his brother for the first time since he arrived, “The tavern is very lively in the evenings. And I’d love to talk to you more.”

“I can’t stay, unfortunately.” Minho said with a frown, “I’m supposed to be at an alliance coalition with some of the western kingdoms early tomorrow morning, but I snuck away just to see you.”

“One more cup of tea couldn’t hurt?” You suggested, raising an eyebrow at the prince and jabbing a thumb in the direction of the kitchen, “Not to mention, Felix baked a lovely batch of blueberry muffins this morning, and it would be a shame for you not to try one.”

“My brother’s a baker?” Minho teased, turning to Felix and cracking a grin, “No way he would be capable of something like that. I simply must try it out for myself!”

“I’ll go put the kettle back on, and give you two some time to talk alone.” You hummed, placing a quick kiss on Felix’s lips and retreated back into the kitchen; you did take the love letter with you to re-read though

Felix giggled, his body feeling like it was on cloud nine.

He swore, he never felt so happy

maybe it was because he was relieved that his life wasn’t over,

but it was also nice to see Minho again.

The two of them talked as they used to, comfortably and casually.

Felix wouldn’t have the chance to speak with Minho often when he lived at the castle; his brother was much more busy and with conflicting duties and schedules, they never really had the time.

But whenever they did, it was never uncomfortable or awkward.

You didn’t want to intrude on their time alone, so after the tea was done and ready, you brought it to them before scurrying back to the kitchen to make yourself busy preparing for the dinner tonight

Felix asked about Karina and how Clé was doing; Apparently they were well, and Minho seemed to truly love the future queen. Felix also learned that apparent Winter had been married last autumn and was doing well too (Felix felt very relieved to hear this)

Clé was in a minor food shortage, but Minho was hoping to supplement that with an trade alliance with the western island of Halazia, who needed lumber for ships.

Felix then told Minho of the tavern and what it was like trying to afford to get it up and running. He spoke of the evening activities and how he got to do what he loved all the time.

And of course, Felix spoke of you; he told his brother how you supported him always, how you would do anything to make him happy, and how much he adored you as a person. He talked about all of his favourite activities to do with you and how it felt like a dream come true to get to fall asleep next to you everyday.

They were so caught up in conversation, they were both taken by surprise when someone walked in the door

“Wow, you guys have been slacking off today! The chairs aren’t even taken off the bar yet.” Hyunjin huffed out, smile on his face as he hung up his jacket. When he realized Felix was with another man, he flinched and grew flustered.

“Oh, forgive me! I didn’t realize you had a visitor.” Hyunjin apologized with a bow, “Sorry for intruding.”

“Don’t worry about it, Jinnie!” Felix chuckled, turning to Minho, “This is Hyunjin, our bar-hand.”

Hyunjin bowed again, waving at Minho before disappearing into the back to “take an inventory check”

“I guess that would be my cue to leave.” Minho hummed, standing from his chair. He hesitated to go, wanting to spend more time with Felix...

but Minho knew his responsibilities far outweighed his desire.

Felix lunged at him, engulfing his brother in a tight hug, which was reciprocated warmly.

“I’m glad to see you’re doing well here.” Minho said, releasing Felix from his grip, “I’ll be sure to write to you occasionally. And if I can, I’d love to visit you once again.”

“You better! I’ll miss you too much if you don’t” Felix grinned, leading Minho to the door, “Goodbye and safe travels.”

Minho hesitated once more at the door before hugging Felix again. With that final hug, he said goodbye, with Felix watching him walk away until he was out of sight

Felix felt his heart ache at the sight, but knew that he would at least be able to see Minho again someday

which was much more joyous than never hearing from him at all.

“Uhm... Lix?” Hyunjin asked, coming out from the back and leaning on the bar. He had a slight frown on his face and a pout on his lips.

Oh yes, Felix almost forgot he would have to try and explain the sudden visitor, which was very out of the ordinary of him to have.

“Yes?”

“I don’t mean to pry, but who was that?”

“That was my brother.” Felix mumbled, thinking up an excuse. He chewed his bottom lip before gazing up at Hyunjin, “He’s from a far away kingdom, so he can’t visit often.”

Hyunjin’s frown deepened, but he simply nodded, flashing a fake smile.

“Well, I’m glad your brother could visit.” He hummed, before starting to prepare the bar for tonight.

Did Hyunjin really have no further questions for Felix? It felt odd considering that the situation was strange and Felix gave a kind of wishy-washy, short answer.

technically he didn’t lie to Hyunjin,

Minho was from a kingdom far from here.

He just didn’t tell him Minho was soon to be the king of said kingdom

Felix doubted that Hyunjin didn’t have anymore suspicions about his visitor; He had always been bright and attentive, being able to read pretty much anyone. Hyunjin most likely knew something was fishy but simply decided to not say anything about it.

that is, until the bar had closed down for the night and the bar-keep beckoned both you and your husband to the back storage room to discuss something.

“So, what is this all about?” You asked, oblivious to the situation at hand

“I finally pieced it all together.” Hyunjin stated simply, expression unreadable

you furrowed your brow in confusion, looking over to Felix who looked as though he had seen a ghost.

of course he figured it out.

Felix knew he would

But what did that mean for all you’d have built?

so many new people being let in on your little secret made him sick. Putting trust that his and your entire life wouldn’t be ruined in another person’s hands makes him anxious beyond belief.

“Pardon? I’m not sure what you are referring to, Jin?” You confessed truthfully; you weren’t sure what the bar-keep was speaking of, but you could feel your nerves grow weak as you were sure to be able to guess what this could be about.

“I was wondering why we had the honor of a visit from Prince of Clé,” Hyunjin began, eyes darting between you and Felix as he spoke, “I couldn’t remember where I recognized him from at first, but then I remembered seeing his face in the paper after his wedding. And Felix informed me that it was his brother coming to visit, which cleared all my suspicions up.”

“I... I don’t know what to say...” Felix spoke shakily, body trembling.

god he felt so stupid!

of course people would know what the Clé prince -the future king of a neighboring kingdom- would look like.

why did he reveal it was his family...

“The bounty hunters, not speaking of the past, even that Clé longbow you keep behind the bar...” Hyunjin hummed, crossing his arms over his chest with a smirk, “not to mention you bear a striking resemblance to a particular missing prince?”

You were silent, standing like a statue as you assessed what to do.

truthfully, you were even less surprised than Felix that Hyunjin had figured it out; intuition and a few clues you supposed.

“Am I correct?” Hyunjin tilted his head slightly; his gaze was playful as his lips were drawn into a thin line.

Felix looked to you, reaching out his hand to lace his fingers with yours before turning back to Hyunjin with a curt nod.

there was no sense to lie to the man anymore.

Hyunjin bit his bottom lip, staring at the floor. The room was silent and the air was thick with tension

Until Hyunjin let out a breathless chuckle shaking his head. A grin found its way onto his face as you and Felix held your breath

“Honestly, I’m just more upset you guys didn’t tell me sooner” the bar-keep hummed, looking between you two, “how long have I worked here by now? And you still don’t trust me?”

“Sorry Jin,” You frowned, feeling a slight bit embarrassed at him scolding you, “But I’m sure you can understand why we want to keep our past a secret”

“No shit, hey?” Hyunjin laughed, which sounded like a symphony to Felix

He wasn’t going to turn you both in

Honestly, now that he really thought about it, it wouldn’t be in Hyunjin’s character to betray you both like that, so why was Felix even worried in the first place?

Well, plenty of reasons, considering what the secret was.

But it was Hyunjin.

And Felix liked him.

He trusted him.

And you did too.

“Hyunjin, we should have told you the moment we hired you. We are really sorry.” Felix confessed, reaching his hand out to shake the other man’s. For some reason, Felix did feel genuinely guilty for hiding his past from Hyunjin…

It must have shown on his face because Hyunjin simply looked at before swatting it away, pulling your husband into a hug

“Hey, I get it.” He spoke softly, pulling away to wrap his arms around you tenderly, “both of you must have gone through hell. I don’t blame you for wanting to move forward and never look back.”

“Maybe we can, just once more.” You suggested, looking between the two men with a knowing smirk, “I think you deserve a bit more detail onto how we got here, no?”

“Should I put the tea on?” Felix asked, smiling at you and then at Hyunjin fondly.

He couldn’t agree with you more; if he’s going to know, Hyunjin should get the whole story. The truth.

“I’d love to hear all about it.” Hyunjin exclaimed enthusiastically, walking out to the bar and pulling down a couple of the stools, “I’m sure it’s a hell of a story…”

And you couldn’t help but agree; your life with Felix was quite the story…

One that now had more interesting characters in it.

And one that you couldn’t wait to see how it goes next, with the dawn of new connections, but the same love you had and always will have for Felix

——————————————

A/N: OKAYYY FINALLY DONE!! Just over a year this baby has been in the making, but posting my 3racha fic in this universe had me inspired to finally finish it. I know this part has a little less focus on you and Lix, but I get as though other characters and relations are also interesting. I hope you enjoyed it :33

#kpop #stray kids #skz #fluff #angst #Felix #Lee felix #lee felix fantasy au #lee felix fluff #lee felix x reader #felix skz fantasy au #skz fantasy au #bang chan #Lee Minho #Seo Changbin #Hwang Hyunjin #Han Jisung #Kim Seungmin #Yang Jeongin

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versegm · 1 year ago

Text

You come to in the middle of an empty field, plundered by rain.

You sit up with a groan. Though the ground you’re own has long turned to mud, you find that yourself aren’t all that wet. Meaning that, most likely, it has been raining for a while, but you have only been here for a minute at best.

Well. Alright. Time for the usual check-up.

First: the area is completely unknown to you. While the flora isn’t widely different from what you know, you find that you are completely unable to identify them in any greater detail. Wherever you are, it’s vastly different from anywhere else you’ve ever been- and you have been in quite a lot of places.

Second: you are alone. A quick glance at your command spells tells you that your contracts are still active, just… far away. You can probably call forth shadow servants if need be. That’s reassuring, at least.

Third: there is a certain… emptiness, within your chest. It’s a sensation that is near impossible to describe, but one that is familiar nonetheless. You are currently separated from your body. Or separated from your soul? Either one.

In short: you are dreaming, as usual, and you got lost, as one does. Or as you, specifically, do.

A shiver runs through your body. Either way, you should get up and leave, else you’re going to catch a cold. (Can souls catch a cold? Are you currently a soul? Da Vinci had made it sound like you were, but you’ve always been a bit dubious. You know you’re some part of [Ritsuka Fujimaru] that got separated from where you’re meant to be, but what part this is is still unclear to you. Maybe you’re overthinking this, but you dare anyone who has ever read a report from Chaldea to tell you this is an unwarranted reaction.)

You get up, then look around. Thankfully, there seems to be a village nearby. You hurry there, seeking shelter from the rain.

It becomes quickly obvious that wherever you are, it’s not anywhere resembling present-day earth. You see a small catboy chatting with an orc in a shop. Right next to it, a goblin woman waving goodbye to a customer. It seems to be a pretty classic fantasy setting, all things considered.

You debate as to where to go for a few seconds, then head for the inn. You don’t think you have any currency the locals would accept, but if nothing else you should be able to get a seat in a dry place.

You push the door open. The owner, a tall wolfman scrubbing a mug, spares a nod your way. You take your seat in a corner. The is fairly empty; there’s a minotaur in a corner, armwrestling with a woman whose arms are covered in bright tattoos. A faun is nursing a drink next to them, daydreaming.

The backdoor opens up, and a woman walks, carrying a small drider. “Garth, have you seen-”

She pauses. You pause.

She is on the short side of things, her blonde hair long enough that it would reach her hips if she untied it. She’s wearing a light attire- fit for a mage, you are guessing. Three lines are tattooed on both sides of her throat, like bright blue gills on her pale skin. Her face is circled by a short, fuzzy beard. She’s wearing a ponytail, different from the pigtails you’ve grown used to, but you know that face. You know that face.

At the same time you raise your pointer finger, Artoria, Caster, she who chants, also raises her hand, pointing at you with wide eyes, and you both yell in unison: “YOU!”

The entire tavern turns to look at you.

“Ah,” The innkeeper’s ear twitches. “Friend of yours?”

“Paramour of yours?” Adds the minotaur.

“Man, is there anyone in the Frost Marches you don’t know?” Jokes the faun.

“Ah- it’s a long story. I’ll tell you guys later.” Artoria smiles at them. You’re shocked to see that the smile, while obviously hiding discomfort, is in part genuine. “Let me put the little one to sleep, and then we can go to my room to discuss, alright?”

Hidden meaning clear: we do not talk about Fairy Britain in front of them. Sure. You can do that. “It’s no problem.”

It would be a bit awkward to just wait here though, so you get out of your seat and follow Artoria through the inn’s backdoor. It seems to lead straight into a- nursery, apparently. A dozen children- all bearing the lower body of a spider- play in the courtyard.

Artoria makes a quick sign your way to be quiet. She then heads inside one of the rooms, filled with cradles and a dozen more kids- toddlers, really- dozing off peacefully. Artoria gently kisses the forehead of the child she’s holding, and then lowers them into a free bed.

“Cute kids.” You comment once you leave the room.

“Thank you,” she replies, which is probably an automatism because otherwise it would be a bit of a stupid answer-

Suddenly, it occurs to you that while Artoria is just as short as you’ve always known her, she is still noticeably older.

“...” You wring your hands together awkwardly. “Are they, uh. Yours?”

“Eh, only technically.” She shrugs. “Gwyn’s the one raising them. I’m more of the fun aunt to them.”

Your gaze goes over the courtyard again. Including the babies inside, that’s about twenty kids. “Been busy, huh?”

Artoria’s face snaps towards you. It seems like she only just realized what she just said. “I didn’t-!” She stops mid-sentence. Raises a hand. “That’s not-” Pauses again. Lowers her hand. “I mean, yes, but it’s unrelated to the number of children.”

You make a face. It does seem kind of related to you. “Hey, no judging, good for you. I didn’t know fairies of paradise could bear any children to begin with, it’s cool that you get to start a family if you want to.”

For some reason, Artoria’s gaze suddenly wanders, as if she wanted to look anywhere but at you. “... I… can’t.”

… Ah. Well that makes your lighthearted joke suddenly very insensitive. “Uh, sor-”

“Driders don’t need outside input to reproduce. They only need… uhm. A host. To. Carry the eggs.”

You pause in your steps. Gears turn in your head.

“ Anyways. Come over here, we’ll discuss in my room.”

“Oh my god.”

“I said come over here!”

“Oh my god, no, no, you have to give me the details Artoria. How does it work? Do they…?”

“ We have more pressing matters to discuss, Ritsuka! ”

Unfortunately, she’s right, so you let her manhandle you into her bedroom (you allow yourself a couple second to notice that wow, she is noticeably stronger than she used to be . She could throw you around like a sack of potatoes like this. ) She locks the door behind you, then goes to sit on her bed, tapping the space next to her. “Okay. Get over here. How did you end up here, of all places?”

You shrug, then come to sit next to her. “You know how it is. Falling asleep in my bed, waking up in completely random places. That’s just how life is sometimes.”

She stares. “Does this… happen often?”

Ah. Right. She doesn’t know about that bit. “Yeah.”

She sighs. Heavily. It’s more like a groan, really.

“And what about you? ” You poke at her shoulder, blatantly trying to change the subject. “How did you end up here?”

Thankfully, she takes the bait. “Eh, you know how it is. Sacrificing myself in a blaze of glory, waking up in completely random places. That’s just how death is sometimes.”

She says it in a joking, lighthearted tone. You feel like you’ve been punched through the guts. You’re used to that, death; seeing people die, and seeing them come back afterwards. That doesn’t make it hurt any less. It all comes back to you, the pain and the sorrow and the guilt I didn’t even get to properly tell you goodbye I didn’t even get to so much as hug you-

Breathe. Breathe. Compartmentalize. You’re good at that. “Sounds like an adventure. So, how’s your new life?”

“Oh, Ritsuka, this place sucks so bad, you have no idea.” She huffs. “There’s like, five invasions going on at any given time. You can’t take three steps outside of town without getting attacked by randos. Every individual settlement has about two hundred years worth of beef with each other. And they don’t even know how to work steel. Everyone does things with copper around here. It’s weird.”

She says it all with anger, but there’s something in her voice, a fondness that makes you feel soft and mellow inside. How much Artoria complains is directly correlated to how safe she feels complaining about it. For her to be so open about her grievances… “I take it you’re having fun here?”

There is a slight pause. And then, gentler than you have ever seen her do so before- she smiles. “The people aren’t too bad, I guess.”

When she looks like that, it’s very hard not to grab her face and kiss her on the spot. You don’t, though, because you’re pretty sure she’s in a relationship? Actually, now is a good time as any to check. “Found yourself a drider lover, eh? What are they like?”

She stares at you for a second, then barks out laughing. “Because of the kids? Nah. I’m not in a relationship with a drider. ”

Ooooh? Your gossip sense is tingling. “But you are in a relationship?”

“Believe it or not, I’m actually a married woman now.” She looks deeply smug about that. It’s adorable.

“Well, tell me more! Who’s the lucky one?”

She scratches her chin, smile widening. “My wife is the beautiful centaur princess of the southern tribes.” Aw, this is cute. You’re about to congratulate her on that, but- she keeps going. “I’m also the consort of the Queen of the Winter city. And I… have this weird thing going on with the leader of the eastern Orc tribe and the leader of the northern Siorc tribe? I don’t think there’s a human equivalent for it… I’m their alpha? It’s like, wife, but I officially wear the pants in that relationship.”

The more she goes on the higher your eyebrows fly. Not that you’re surprised Artoria can get some (you don’t know if she ever realized it herself, but a lot of people were interested in her back in Fairy Britain) but that’s still a lot to take in. “So you have been busy.”

“I- only denied that it had anything to do with the amount of kids I’ve mothered!” She puffs her cheeks. You can tell she’s not genuinely offended, though. “People here aren’t that big on monogamy. And very casual about sex.”

Huh. So like Chaldea, on a world scale? There are certainly worse cultures to have, in your opinion. “You’ll have to tell me those stories, though. How did you meet? Who made the first move? I want to hear it all!”

She snickers. “Fine, I’ll tell you. But first, when do you think you’ll wake up?”

Hm. Good questions. “I don’t know. Sometimes I wake up on my own normally. Sometimes I get stuck for days. It really depends.”

“Okay.” She nods. And then, with no warning whatsoever, she grabs your shoulders and hauls herself over your laps.

For a couple seconds, you’re frozen stupid. You don’t know how to react. Her face is so close to yours. She’s pretty light, as you expected, but that’s still a whole person’s weight pressing right on the top of your thighs. You fear that you might do something unwise, but she opens her mouth first: “Wanna fuck?”

Your mind turns blank. “Come again?”

“That’s the plan, yes.”

You can’t help it. You start laughing. Your hands come to hold onto her, landing on her hips (they fit perfectly in your palms.) “I meant that this is a lot more direct than what I’m used to. Though make no mistake. I would kill to get to eat you out. Just so we’re clear.”

She blushes a bit at your words. “ Very glad to hear so.” Her hands come up to your shoulders. “And look. For all I know, you could wake up in thirty minutes, and I’d have missed my only chance to do this. If I learned anything from living in Savarra, it’s that sex is a lot of fun, you’ve got to take your chances, and I should have asked for more than handholding back then.”

You pull her closer to you. Her chest presses against yours. You can almost feel her heartbeat like this. Your chin fits perfectly on top of her shoulder. Her body is so warm. You can hear her breathing right by your ear.

She’s alive. She’s alive. She’s alive. Despite everything, despite everything- she’s alive, and she’s happy. She’s alive, and she’s with you. She’s alive, and you’re about to get as much evidence of that as you could ever need, taste and sight and sound, skin and limbs and tongues.

“I love you,” you say, hugging her tighter. “I never got to say it back then. But I did. I do.”

“I know.” Of course she does. You can count on one hand the amount of people who know you as well as she does. Excalibur’s blade is a mirror, and the two of you have seen nothing but your reflection in it. “I love you too, by the way.”

She pulls away from you, just a few inches, just enough to set her forehead against yours. Her hands come up to cup your cheeks. “Now, won’t you give me something to remember you by?”

#my writing #fate #lostbelt 6

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c-e-d-dreamer · 2 years ago

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Falling For Your Fools Gold: Chapter 8

A/N: Oh, we're really getting into it now! I know this chapter is a bit shorter than previous ones, and it may feel a bit like filler, but we gotta set up all the delicious things to come ;) Also sorry not sorry for the cliffhanger. Enjoy!

Chapter Masterlist // Previous Part // Next Part

Nesta runs her fingers through her hair, carefully tugging through the knots in the strands, before braiding her hair back. She slides the pins into place next. Without any type of mirror, she has to go off muscle memory alone, her fingertips skating along the updo to at least ensure it feels as it should.

When she’s happy with her hair, she pulls on her dress from the day before next and steps out of the washroom. Cassian is sitting on the bed, tugging his boots back onto his feet. His eyes sweep over Nesta as she steps back in the room. They linger on her face, an intensity seeming to simmer in their hazel color, some emotion flitting across his face before Nesta can even name it, but then he drops his gaze back to the task at hand, lacing his boots up the rest of the way.

Nesta walks over to where her weapons are laid out on the small table in the room. She picks up her sword first, securing the holster around her waist. She goes to strap her dagger to her belt next, but warm fingers curl around her own, stopping her. Nesta turns around in surprise, finding Cassian now standing behind her. He doesn’t say anything, just gently tugs the dagger out of her grip. Nesta lets out a soft gasp when he sinks to his knees, staring with wide eyes as Cassian carefully lifts up her skirts.

“When people see the obvious, they tend not to look for what’s hidden. Something good to always remember, as you can use it to your advantage,” Cassian explains, sliding Nesta’s dagger into her boot.

Nesta swallows hard, her breath hitching in her throat, as Cassian’s fingers brush across the skin of her ankle, ensuring the dagger is secure. Her heart begins to pound between her ribs, especially when Cassian raises his gaze to meet Nesta’s own from his position before her, like a knight bowing before his queen. She opens her mouth, words tangling on her tongue, but before she can say anything, Cassian readjusts her skirts and rises back to his feet.

“Thank you,” Nesta finally murmurs.

Cassian nods his head, gesturing with his hand toward the door. “After you.”

Nesta makes her way across the room to the door, stepping out of the room and down the hallway, Cassian following behind her. When they make it down to the ground level of the inn, she expects to see the crew waiting for them, but when her eyes sweep across the tavern tables, she doesn’t spot a single familiar face.

She frowns, but then Cassian’s hand is pushing gently against the small of her back, guiding her out of the inn completely. Thick, gray clouds obscure the sun and sky overhead, a threat and a promise for rain to come, leaving an eerie chill nipping on the breeze. They paint the streets of Windhaven in a damp darkness despite the late morning hour, figures hunched over in cloaks weaving through the buildings.

Cassian holds his arm out in silent offering, and Nesta settles her hand in the crook of his elbow, following his lead down the road. Nesta wonders if they’ll be finishing whatever business needs to be done in port, if perhaps they’re on their way to meet the crew wherever they are. But instead, Cassian brings them to a small cafe, opening the door for Nesta to step inside.

Nesta turns to blink at him in confusion at the destination, but after a moment, she steps over the threshold. The sweet scent of freshly baked bread and pastry treats flood her senses, the heat from the wood burning fires along the back wall tickling against her skin. A basket of loaves sits on the counter, a young woman stood on the other side, wrapping more bread with paper and string.

“What are we doing here?” Nesta turns to ask over her shoulder.

Cassian tilts his head, frowning in confusion at her question. “Breakfast.”

Cassian steps around Nesta to walk up to the counter of the cafe. The young woman eyes him a bit warily, recognition flitting across her expression. Her gaze dances to Nesta briefly before returning to the pirate captain, a forced smile tugging up her lips.

“What can I get you both?”

They order their food and settle into one of the small tables set up along the front windows of the cafe. Nesta pulls her small bowl of drink close to her, tearing off a piece of her croissant to dip it into the delicious chocolate concoction. She only just barely swallows down a groan at the sweet taste blooming across her tongue, quickly tearing off another piece to dip more.

Nesta goes to take another bite, but pauses when Cassian lifts a hand up, reaching over the table and the space between them. Slowly, his palm cradles her jaw, just the barest hint of a touch sending sparks skittering across Nesta’s skin. His thumb drags slowly across Nesta’s top lip, the touch warm. Nesta can’t move, can’t breathe. For a moment, time seems to stand still, the rest of the cafe, of Windhaven, melting away. All Nesta can focus on is the way her every nerve ending seems to tingle and radiate from that place where his thumb presses against her lips. On the hazel of Cassian’s eyes as they burn a glinting fire of greens and golds.

“You had chocolate on your face,” Cassian murmurs, finally pulling his hand away.

Nesta drops her gaze to his hand, noting the droplet dribbled across the pad of his thumb. Already, she can feel a blush roaring to life beneath her skin, threatening to crash across her cheeks, her heart still tripping over itself between her ribs. She tears at the croissant, the perfect excuse to keep her head ducked, and clears her throat.

“Thanks,” she offers quietly.

“Captain.”

Nesta and Cassian turn in time to watch Baz all but burst through the door of the cafe. He looks out of breath, red blotches blooming across the skin of his cheeks, as if he ran all the way here. His chest heaves, and he swallows hard, but he walks over to their little table.

“I secured us a meet,” Baz explains, shoving his fingers through his hair and pushing the strands off his forehead. “The eldest Vanserra is in port. He’s waiting at the Siren’s Pearl.”

“Sorry, Nes. Looks like our breakfast is getting cut short,” Cassian offers, standing up from his seat.

“Perhaps, I shouldn’t come along with you this time,” Nesta protests, dropping her hands to her lap and fiddling with the fabric of her dress. “I was just a hindrance to your business last time.”

“Nesta…”

“You said yourself that you don’t like to stay in Windhaven that long, and won’t this help with that? I can spend the day at Emerie’s shop.”

Cassian still looks dubious, his lips dipping down into a frown. His eyebrows furrow, the hazel of his eyes dimming with what looks like unease. He eyes Nesta almost warily, distrustingly, and it has her chest tightening, breath stuttering in her lungs with the way her heart squeezes. She finally stands up as well, reaching over and curling her fingers around Cassian’s wrist reassuringly.

“I meant what I said last night,” Nesta tells him quietly, meeting his gaze head-on and praying he can see the truth in her eyes, can hear the truth in her words.

Cassian searches her face for a moment before letting out a soft sigh. “Alright.”

Despite Cassian’s agreement, he insists on walking Nesta back to Emerie’s bookstore. He keeps Nesta’s hand secured in the crook of his elbow as they stroll at an almost leisurely pace through the streets of Windhaven. Baz seems to disagree with the delay, but he keeps his lips pressed firmly together, quietly following behind them.

“I’ll come back once we’re finished with the Vanserras,” Cassian explains once they reach the door of Emerie’s shop. “And then we’ll finally be able to set sail again.”

Nesta nods, turning to head into the bookstore, but Cassian’s hand catches around her arm, stopping her. When she turns back around in confusion, the lightness has returned to Cassian’s eyes, that cocky, teasing smirk firmly back in place across his lips.

“Try and stay out of trouble, princess,” Cassian offers with a wink.

He leans in and steals a kiss to Nesta’s cheek before finally stepping back and vanishing down the road with Baz. Nesta is left frozen in front of Emerie’s shop, jaw slacking and eyes blinking after the pirate captain and his first mate. Slowly, her hand comes up, fingers pressing against the skin where Cassian’s lips had brushed. Her heart pounds an erratic beat in her chest, and she has to swallow hard around the emotions bubbling up and pressing at her throat.

With a shake of her head, Nesta pulls herself back to reality, spinning on her heel and finally stepping inside the bookstore. Much like the previous day, Emerie is behind the counter, but this time, she has her cheek cradled in her hand, elbow leaning against the wood. Her eyes are glued to Nesta, her brown eyes alight and a smirk firmly planted across her face.

“What’s that face for?” Nesta asks, scowling lightly and crossing her arms.

“What’s going on there?” Emerie fires back, standing up fully and matching Nesta’s stance.

“Going on where?”

Emerie rolls her eyes like she can’t believe Nesta just asked that. “Between you and the Lord of Bloodshed.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Nesta tells her primly, moving through the shop and sliding her fingers along the covers of the books on display. “He… Well, he technically attacked my father’s ship, and now I…”

Nesta pauses, her words trailing off. She what? She trains with weapons and learns to fight now? She lives on his ship and sails with him? She stays in the captain’s cabin and shares his bed with him? She asks to stay with him and not go back to Adriata, and he promises to always protect her and be her sword?

Suddenly, Nesta is glad that her back is turned to Emerie, so the shop owner can’t see the blush skittering across her skin.

“And now I’m part of his crew,” Nesta finally finishes, picking up one of the books and aimlessly flipping through the pages.

“Part of the crew? Doing what?”

“Doing… crew things.”

“Right,” Emerie drawls sarcastically. “Just so you know, I don’t believe you.”

Nesta snaps the book in her hands closed, whirling back around to face Emerie. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Fine. Did you start either of the books you got yesterday yet?”

The change in conversation has Nesta smiling, more than happy to dive into a book discussion. She steps over to the counter and Emerie, and they quickly devolve into a debate on the better love choices for the main characters in their favorite stories. It doesn’t take long for them both to realize they have similar tastes, and soon they’re laughing over the different descriptions some authors use, over the task of trying to figure out the exact positions the couples are somehow in.

“I just don’t understand where her leg is meant to be,” Emerie gets out between wheezing laughter. “There’s no way she’s flexible enough for it to be above her head.”

Nesta feels like she can’t breathe, clutching at her side as she continues to giggle. “Maybe she’s secretly a dancer?”

“And what about him? He’s apparently twice as tall as she is, so how does that work?”

Nesta has to wipe at her eyes, at the tears that have sprung to life from all the laughing, and takes a deep breath. “You can’t think too hard about it, or else you won’t enjoy the book.”

“I suppose,” Emerie agrees with a quiet huff. “I’m just waiting for a romance novel I can truly relate to.”

“A heroine that owns a bookstore?”

“Yes, and her beautiful girlfriend that works at the local tavern,” Emerie sighs dreamily, pressing the back of her hand against her forehead dramatically, before her brown eyes widen. “Oh, no. I forgot I said I’d meet Cresseida for lunch.”

“Cresseida?”

“My beautiful girlfriend that works at the local tavern,” Emerie explains with a dismissive wave of her hand like Nesta was meant to already know that.

Before Nesta can ask anything else, Emerie steps fully around the counter. Her hand wraps around Nesta’s wrist, all but dragging her toward the door and out of the bookstore. She lets go long enough to lock up her shop, but then Emerie is linking her arm through Nesta’s and leading her through winding sidestreets into a part of Windhaven Nesta hasn’t been to yet.

They come to a stop in front of a tavern that seems to be absolutely bustling with people. The front doors are propped open wide, the yellow glow of the lights inside spilling out and into the courtyard where people are drinking and chatting amicably despite the dreary weather. A large wooden sign hanging above declares the tavern as the Kraken’s Korner, a large octopus-like arm painted so that it curls around the letters.

Emerie leads them up the steps and inside without a care, the familiarity with this place clear. There’s a group of patrons in one of the corners, a woman singing while a man plucks some sort of stringed instrument and another man uses a barrel to pound out a steady beat with his fists. Nesta stands transfixed watching them, the music floating over to her. The melody wraps around her limbs, a familiar thrum rising to meet it beneath her skin. Already, she can imagine walking over to dance, if only she had a willing partner.

A tug on her arm, pulls Nesta back to herself, Emerie walking them to the opposite corner of the tavern. They settle into chairs around one of the smaller tables, Emerie’s eyes dancing around all the different patrons, searching. She must find who she’s looking for, the bookstore owner raising her arm in a wave, but when Nesta squints through the busy tavern, she can’t tell exactly who Emerie is waving at.

“So, does your girlfriend own this tavern?” Nesta asks when Emerie’s attention finally turns back to her.

“Her cousin Tarquin does,” Emerie explains. “But Cresseida practically runs the place.”

“Damn straight I do.”

Nesta turns her head to find a woman now standing beside their table. Her hair is practically a glowing silver, braided back and tumbling over her shoulders and down her back. The color contrasts beautifully with the dark shade of her skin, the deep brown of her eyes. With the angles of her face, the way her lips are pulled into an easy, confident smile, she reminds Nesta of a princess heroine, and she understands why Emerie thinks the two of them belong in a romance novel.

“Hey, Cress,” Emerie greets, her own smile wide. “Hope you don’t mind I brought a friend to lunch. This is Nesta. She’s on the Lord of Bloodshed’s crew.”

Cresseida’s eyes widen, her gaze snapping to Nesta. “The rumors are true then? That the Lord of Bloodshed allows women on his crew?”

Nesta flushes slightly at the question, and judging from the way Emerie is biting back a smirk, she knows exactly the corner she’s backed Nesta into. “Yes. He does. He’s even been providing me with weapons and hand to hand combat training.”

“Wow. That’s amazing.”

“Cresseida wants to sail and see the world,” Emerie explains with a fond roll of her eyes.

“Some of us want to get out of Windhaven,” Cressieda scoffs, settling into the open seat beside her girlfriend. “Now tell us more about the crew.”

Nesta does just that. She talks about the crew, about her training with Baz. She even tells the story about the Solstice celebration, Emerie and Cresseida seemingly delighted at her hustling the other members of the crew.

Somewhere along the way, Cresseida runs off to the kitchen, coming back with steaming plates for them to share amongst the three of them, and not long after that the conversation derails into Cresseida telling tales of some of the craziest patrons at the tavern. By the time the plates are empty, Nesta’s cheeks hurt from smiling and laughing so much. But her stomach is full of good food, and her chest feels light in a way that’s almost terrifying in its unfamiliarity, warm contentment stretching through her veins.

Nesta is so distracted by the easy camaraderie between the three of them, that she barely notices the change-over in the patrons around them. It’s only when she glances toward one of the windows of the tavern that she notices the way the light has shifted outside, the darkening of the sky indicating the hours they’ve spent here. It has Nesta chewing at her bottom lip nervously.

Cassian had said he would retrieve her from Emerie’s shop. Would he be waiting for her? Would he assume she didn’t mean what she said, that she’d run away back to Adriata after all? Would he set sail without her? That thought has Nesta’s stomach sinking, all the food suddenly feeling heavy and leaving a sour taste in the back of her mouth.

“Should we head back to your shop?” Nesta cuts in to ask.

Emerie raises an eyebrow at the outburst, but whatever she sees on Nesta’s face has her smirking. “Of course. Wouldn’t want to keep your captain waiting.”

“Will he be there?” Cresseida asks, her face lighting up at the prospect. But Nesta doesn’t miss the wariness that tinges the edges of her expression, Cassian’s reputation clearly still preceding him.

Emerie opens her mouth to answer her girlfriend, and Nesta knows from the mischievous glint in her brown eyes that she’s not going to like the response, so she jumps in to say, “let’s go then.”

Emerie looks less than impressed at being cut off, but the three women stand up, making their way out of the tavern. Emerie and Cresseida lead the way, their hands clasped between them, with Nesta trailing just behind. Nesta tries to recognize the different buildings they pass, tries to remember them from the walk to the tavern in hopes of determining how close they are to the bookstore, how much longer it will be, but with the evening sky overhead darkening more and more, they all begin to blur together.

They turn around a corner and cut through one of the alleyways, and Nesta swears that she can feel eyes on her. The sensation prickles along her skin, creeping up her spine until the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She pauses and turns over her shoulder, but the alleyway is empty behind them. She shakes her head and continues behind Emerie and Cresseida, but she still can’t quite shake that feeling, even when they turn another corner.

They head down another sidestreet, but their path up ahead is blocked by a man standing in the middle of the way, his arms crossed across his chest. It takes Nesta a moment to place him, his face snagging at the memories in the back of her mind. When it finally clicks, cold dread sluices through her veins, icing over until the breath stutters in her lungs, her chest tightening painfully.

He was part of the crew at the Captain’s Quarter. He was the one who had glared, who had snapped at Cassian, after their leader had been killed. But he’s not glaring now. Instead, his eyes are pinned on Nesta, and he’s smirking.

Nesta spins on her heel, intent on running in the other direction, but she smacks straight into the chest of another man instead. His arm snaps around Nesta’s waist, gripping tight enough that it hurts, that she’s sure she’ll have bruises pressed into her skin. Shouts from behind her let her know that there’s more men, that they’ve grabbed Emerie and Cresseida too. She tries to free her hands, to fight back, but the hold has her arms pinned to the man’s chest.

Every second that passes has Nesta’s heart pounding, has fear making her head fuzzy, her breath heaving in her lungs and her ears ringing. She tries desperately to wriggle free from this man’s grasp, tries to cling to her trainings with Baz, to everything she’s been taught, but terror grips her too tightly. This man grips her too tightly. She opens her mouth, prepared to scream, but a cloth of some kind is pressed against her face, and everything fades to darkness.

—

Updated Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog @lifeisntafantasy @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld @isterofimias @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @kookskoocie @cassiansbigwingspan @unlikelypersonalknight1 @blurredlamplight @hereforthenessian @skaixo @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard

#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #nessian fanfiction #nessian fic #nesta x cassian #pirates au #my fic

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callsign-bunnie · 1 year ago

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A Dance of Hearts - Chapter 5 - Regency AU

The ride to Drodora was short as Koenig promised, but it was also incredibly uneventful. Even between Horangi and Koenig. They ended up on opposing sleep schedules, so both were rarely awake at the same time.

Horangi was incredibly grateful when they arrived in Antalon, because he had ran out of things to do. He’d lost his charcoal and Miriam had threatened to make him pay for the dress if he’d destroyed it. (He was praying the charcoal would wash out.)

So, when they arrived, late at night, to yet another tavern and inn, he let Koenig go up to the room before following Miriam to the tavern, ordering a plate of fried potatoes and a thing of ale before sitting with her at a table. “We will pick him up tomorrow.” Miriam nodded.

Horangi paused. “Miriam… Why did you pick this job up? You hate Laupin.”

“3000 gold, Horangi.” Miriam laughed. “Hell, I’d fuck a fae for 3000 gold.”

Horangi relaxed. Yeah, that was morality losing money. “1500 gold.” He chuckled, reminding.

“Ah, ah. 1650.” Miriam snorted. “You’re not pulling a fast one on me, Horangi.”

“Damn.” Horangi laughed and feigned disappointment. “Fine. 1650.” Even that was still a decent amount of money. “And favor with the king,” he supposed.

“Exactly.” Miriam nodded and shrugged. “You know me, Horangi, my morals are not the strongest when it comes to gold. Neither are yours for that matter.”

Horangi disagreed, but he supposed she had a point. “Everyone has a price.” He nodded. “Everyone can be bought. I think anyone would do something atrocious for the right price. Steal… Kill their lover.”

“What about you?” Miriam asked, sipping her ale.

Horangi paused. “What about… me?”

“What would make you do something atrocious? Say… kill your lover?” Miriam shrugged. “Or, go against your biggest value?”

Horangi wasn’t sure what his biggest value was, but he found himself thinking of Koenig. What would make him kill the alpha? “I don’t know.” A few ideas ran through his mind. Revenge? Maybe. Horangi could be vengeful. “I don’t know.”

“Would you gamble him away?” Miriam tilted her head.

Horangi tensed, since that was a sore subject. When he’d come to the Red Kingdom, he’d needed money. He’d found betting his body was a sure way… Problem was, he wasn’t a good gambler. Ended up being easier to just sell the damn thing.

Then, he’d started to disguise himself as an alpha. “No.” He shook his head. Even if he knew he’d win. Not for… himself. He knew he’d never win Koenig’s trust back. No matter how addicting the game had became. He wouldn’t. “What about you?”

“Hmm…” Miriam sighed. “I don’t think hating Laupin is my biggest moral. I think… a fear of what might happen if I don’t would be good motivation. A fear of what I’d be letting loose. What I’d be… letting into the kingdom.” She sighed. “We all have fears, too, Horangi. Fear is just as decent a motivator as greed.”

Horangi frowned, unsure what she could mean by that. But, he didn’t ask, and turned to his potatoes, continuing to eat them. He missed his home kingdom’s foods, sometimes. He didn’t know how to cook any of them, and he found he’d forgotten how many of them tasted.

Both sat in silence for a while before Horangi decided to speak again. “In Semworth… I attempted to free Koenig. I told him that he could go and he didn’t have to stay.”

“I’m guessing, since the giant alpha is still here… that he didn’t go?” Miriam nodded. “Makes sense, he seems rather enamored with you. Those eyes follow you wherever you go.”

Horangi laughed, since he could have guessed that. “I wonder if a caged bird can truly be enamored, though… He has this… anxiety around people. How do I know he is not just staying out of fear of having to leave?”

“I suppose that is a valid concern.” Miriam nodded. “I suppose you won’t. But, it is his decision to stay. Regardless of his intentions. Are you going to be okay with that?”

“I don’t know.” Horangi answered, honestly. “I really don’t.”

“Well, then I suppose you’ll have to think about it.” Miriam sighed. “I think you should learn to live with it. You’re clearly lonely and you need someone to help you loosen up.”

“I am plenty loo-” Horangi stopped, hearing Miriam snicker and he glared at her, blushing dark. “I am just fine. I am not uptight. I just… have a lot of things I need to worry about, in the day. Besides, you don’t see me around everyone else.”

It was the truth, Horangi was playful. He liked to mess around with Stiletto and Roze, and he had an eye for games. He had a dark backstory, but… he didn’t let that darken him. “Maybe I just don’t like you .” He joked.

“That’s good, because I don’t like you. ” Miriam shrugged.

Horangi laughed, not offended. Miriam was abrasive and no, he didn’t think they’d get along under other circumstances. Finally, he sighed and shook his head. “I’m exhausted, I think I’m going to sleep. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Miriam smiled. “Sleep well.”

“Sure.” Horangi got up and went up to the room. Or, his room, because she’d gotten separate rooms this time. When he got there, he saw that Koenig was already asleep, barely able to fit on the bed.

He liked being a knight, he really did but… Something about Koenig put a flash of consideration of retirement in his head. Retiring, settling down…

Maybe he’d find a farm in the countryside. It wouldn’t be like home, but Horangi had been to the countryside of the Red Kingdom. There.. You really understood why the kingdom used to be called Aela. It was sunny and beautiful and… There would never be any people, so Koenig would be content, too.

Horangi wouldn’t have to hide who he was. What he was.

Ah, maybe after this war. Yeah, that sounded nice.

Horangi pulled off his outer clothes and left them draped on a chair before climbing into the bed with Koenig, hugging him from behind and tracing over a tattoo of a crown on his shoulder. He wondered why they called Koenig “King”.

Granted, he didn’t know much about Nehelune or their customs and language. But, he knew it wouldn’t be very… accepted over in the Red Kingdom to call anyone Rey or Reina. Odd…

Horangi brushed it off. He wasn’t planning to wake Koenig to find out and he knew they’d likely be busy the next day for him to ask, then.

He did find himself thinking of Nehelune. Because Horangi was a member of the King’s Guard, specifically, he didn’t go outside of the kingdom during battle. He was meant to stay and defend if they were attacked. Or, occasionally run missions when they weren’t. “Missions” being used lightly. King Alejandro typically didn’t have much use for them, unfortunately.

Though, maybe it’s the sign of good strategy that he didn’t. Horangi didn’t know, he wasn’t much for strategy.

This wasn’t to say Horangi hadn’t seen his fair share of combat. He hadn’t always been in the King’s Guard. He’d been just a little Knight, once, marching into battle. But… That had been in Gaenia, which was a much smaller Kingdom, about the size of Laupin, in a little corner tucked between Drodora and the Red Kingdom.

It’d been a quick battle, more just for the inconvenience of King Alejandro even having to ask them to rejoin the empire. The King had said no when King Alejandro had asked. Which… Horangi had heard that even Nehelune and Laupin had laughed at them for that.

Gaenia had severed any goodwill with Nehelune or Laupin for being stubborn and small minded. While neither Nehelune or Laupin were considerably large, by any means, they both had had their advantages in combat. If it hadn’t have been for Artemean forces, Nehelune likely wouldn’t have lost, for sake of their size and how combat minded they are.

But Gaenia had a bit of a superiority complex, despite their main magic being plant magic. Plant magic. They can grow flowers. Horangi said this as someone who’d been there, himself. Yes, Plant magic could be rather dangerous, but most of them had spent most of their lives focusing on gardening, not combat.

So, they’d been crushed rather easily. Horangi had barely been in combat a year before they were surrendering. Drodora hadn’t even had to send reinforcements.

But, other than Gaenia, Horangi hadn’t been out of the Red Kingdom much, save for his travels through the continent. And most of that had been at night when not much of the kingdom could be seen. As such… He really only knew about the Red Kingdom.

He wondered if Koenig would ever be comfortable traveling to Nehelune… Seeing it. Maybe Koenig could tell him about it.

Maybe…

Horangi settled in to sleep more, yawning. He hoped.

Horangi looked at the other omega in front of him. Prince Lucas… How they had gotten away with saying he was simply a Lord’s Son, no more than a lady, was beyond Horangi because he was definitely a Prince and he was… strikingly similar to King Alejandro.

His hair was curled in the same way, though it was kept longer, kept out of his face with clips which appeared to have flowers on them. His eyes were the same rich brown, his skin almost the exact same shade, maybe a shade or two darker because of his time in Drodora.

He had a strong nose, a sharper jawline, and his bottom lip was plump, while the top stayed thin. Though, Horangi considered them closer to what everyone liked to “War Bow’s Lips” as his top lip curled in a way most omega’s did.

As he stared at them, while his “father” talked to Miriam, he had the same picture of perfect indifference that King Alejandro could pull up. Often while Sir O’Conor was explaining battle strategies.

Horangi glanced at Koenig who, despite having most of his face covered, seemed to be having the same thoughts as Horangi. He moved closer to the alpha and murmured, “they would have had to have had him inside most of the time. Anyone who had seen King Alejandro would have noticed the resemblance, immediately.”

All of Lucas’s omega features were perfect mirrors of King Alejandro. It was almost uncanny and they could have been brothers. Uncle and Nephew definitely made sense.

“I doubt this myth more and more.” Koenig agreed, his eyes watching Prince Lucas, who was not looking at either of them, and instead was looking at Miriam and Lord Nikolai, who bowed his head slightly at them when he noticed them looking.

Both were quick to bow back and then Horangi furrowed his brows. “How old is Prince Lucas?”

“He doesn’t look to be much older than 20…” Koenig murmured, turning to Horangi, who turned to face him back.

“That would make him four years younger than King Alejandro. How could his family have all died the day of his birth and Prince Lucas be 20?”

“They didn’t die on the day of his birth.”

Both Horangi and Koenig yelped loudly and turned to see that Prince Lucas had moved over to him. Finally, the expression of indifference broke and he smiled brightly, his eyes almost appearing to close slightly with it. He didn’t lean back slightly as King Alejandro did when grinning, and in fact, his posture didn’t change save for him lowering his chin slightly. “I beg your pardon??” Koenig asked, holding his chest.

Horangi’s own heart was definitely skipping a few beats and he took deep breaths before relaxing. Fuck.

Prince Lucas laughed, softly. It was sweet, like a bell, but still full and round. Horangi… was starting to question if he was completely alpha minded or if the years of being a knight and feigning attraction for omegas had gotten to him a little. Then, pointed ears poked out of his hair and Horangi and Koenig shared a look. Ahh.

Half fae. Obviously, he wasn’t full fae because there were no wings to be seen and he didn’t look quite nearly as ethereal as the very few Horangi had seen were. He hoped Miriam didn’t know. Explained why King Alejandro’s opinions on Fae differed drastically from his father’s. In fact, he’d made no effort to either persecute them or free them.

“I said that my family did not die on my King Tío’s birth.” Lucas repeated. “They died when I was one year old and my King Tío was 5 years old.”

Even his accent was distinctly Aelian. Old Aelian. King Tío… like Uncle King. “Why does everyone say that they died on King Alejandro’s birth? Even Miriam said so.” Horangi asked, now quite perplexed.

“I do not know. I imagine it’s because of his reputation, they want to claim he is cursed or something.” Prince Lucas shook his head. “He is not cursed. They died of an illness that was going around. As did my Duke Tio the next month. They like to make things more fantastical than they are, do they not?”

Horangi looked at his ears poking out and shook his head, reaching up to touch the Prince’s hair so he could hide them. “Don’t let anyone see those. In fact-” He pulled the clips out of Prince Lucas’s hair, so his curls covered the ears completely. “Do not even let Miriam see them.”

“She cares that I am… half fae?” Prince Lucas glanced at Miriam and Lord Nikolai, who were still talking. They were discussing Prince Lucas’s arrangements to Horangi’s knowledge.

Koenig snorted, softly. “Yes. Most people will.”

Horangi slipped the hair clips into Prince Lucas’s pocket of his skirts, glad to see he was already in plain clothes, just a dress meant for traveling among commoners. It did nothing to hide just how regal Prince Lucas was. “No one is going to buy that he’s just a commoner.” Horangi turned to Koenig, who nodded in agreement. “We’ll need to stay by him. Who knows who or… what will find things to do to him.”

“I agree.” Koenig nodded. “Maybe he should cover his face?”

“Why would I do that??” Prince Lucas asked, frowning. “I thought the dress was to hide who I am.”

“You are… beautiful.” Horangi laughed, though it was more cruel sounding than he meant. “Incredibly. Absurdly. You are certainly royalty… You hold yourself like royalty.”

“Lord Nik taught me how a Prince should behave.” Prince Lucas shrugged. “He knew I should be married one day. Likely to a King or Heir… How am I to hold myself any other way?”

“Slouch!” Horangi said. “You could hold a glass of water on your head and it would not fall.” He shook his head and then got into his bag that Miriam had given him, getting out the pot of Kohl she had bought from a trader. It was becoming more and more popular in Aela. She’d decided to treat both of them with a pot.

“Hold still.” Horangi muttered, moving to Prince Lucas, who did not look the least bit pleased. But, he didn’t protest so Horangi sloppily applied the kohl, making it look messy and like someone who was trying to imitate the ladies at court would do.

Horangi had intended to use it to look more terrifying, but he was glad he had it, now. Prince Lucas’s eyes almost darkened with the effect of the kohl and Horangi stepped back before shaking his head and putting the pot back in his bag. “Koenig, do you still have those berries from lunch? I’ve seen you eating a few.”

“I was-”

Horangi cut him off with a look and Koenig went silent, getting the berries out of his bag. Horangi then took one and burst it into his hand, using it to paint Prince Lucas’s lips and cheeks. “Better?” Horangi asked as he stepped back and looked.

It was… marginally better. He definitely did not look quite as regal and he looked plenty unhappy. “I doubt he’d get a second glance.” Koenig winced. “He’s still too pretty.”

“I didn’t think I’d ever be offended at being too pretty.” Prince Lucas glared at both of them. Then, he did an odd thing, sort of plopping on the floor.

Horangi shrugged. “Just continue acting like that, you’ll be fine.” The glare was deepened and Horangi shuddered, seeing another expression he’d gotten from King Alejandro. It was intense and definitely sent a chill of fear down Horangi’s spine.

Finally, Miriam appeared to be done, coming over to them. So, Prince Lucas stood and went back to Lord Nikolai, hugging him. Miriam sighed. “We are good to take him. Lord Nikolai already brought a covered carriage around.”

Horangi nodded and sighed. “He is…”

“I know.” Miriam laughed. “Definitely Prince Lucas. Do you agree, now?” She turned to Koenig, who winced and nodded. “I told you. We should leave as soon as possible. There will be no stops, we have supplies to last us the 8 days it will take to get back to the Red Kingdom and the horses are trained for long distances like that.”

Horangi nodded. “Yes. We should go.”

Horangi watched Prince Lucas look out the window of the carriage, almost appearing to be in awe of everything. They’d been traveling for two days and he looked no less excited by the endless view of Forest.

“Have you never been outside of your home?” Horangi asked. “What did Lord Nikolai call it… Little… Palace?”

“Malen'kiy dvorets.” Prince Lucas answered, finally sitting back. “Little Palace is correct. And no, I’ve not been outside Little Palace much.”

“Why Little Palace?” Miriam asked. Horangi had to say, he was quite surprised at her. She’d made an effort to be friendly and sweet to Prince Lucas.

Prince Lucas blushed. “He has a… deep friendship with the King of Drodora. King Price named it. He was over there quite often, actually. Lord Nik helped him look for Prince Kyle.”

“Did Prince Kyle and Prince Garaidh know about you?” Horangi asked, remembering the two Drodorian Princes.

Prince Lucas shook his head. “The only two people that knew who I was were Lord Nik and King Price. Well, and my King Tío of course.”

Horangi ahhed and then went quiet, watching him lean back out the window. He wondered about King Phillip… if he would be a kind husband to this omega. It wasn’t any of Horangi’s business and he couldn’t do anything even if King Phillip wouldn’t be but… he hoped he was.

Prince Lucas appeared to be a naive omega and he seemed of sweet temperament, though it seemed to be short like his uncle. Maybe Horangi saw a bit of a younger version of himself in the omega. Beautiful and sweet and wide eyed… Naive.

So, Horangi leaned out the window and pointed to their left. “That is where your husband rules. Way off in the distance. Have you heard anything of him?”

“I got to see a bare glance of him.” Prince Lucas nodded. “King Price had brought him, my King Tío, and Lord Riley to Little Palace while they looked for Prince Kyle. It was less than five seconds while Lord Nik introduced me but… I saw him.”

“What did you think of him? If you managed to think of him at all in that time?” Horangi asked, frowning.

“He was beautiful. Quite handsome in the ways an alpha should be.” Prince Lucas smiled. “I suppose… at the time, I did not know we were to be engaged or I would have found myself trying to pick up more of an impression. What did you think of your husband when you first met him?”

Horangi at first paused, confused, before realizing he must have meant Koenig, who was looking out the other window silently. Lord Nikolai had given him a sword, which his hand had stayed firmly on. Horangi had gotten his own, as well, but he had it hidden under his skirts.

Horangi glanced back at Koenig, who met his eye for just a moment and they softened before Horangi looked away. “I thought he was too tall.” He admitted, laughing softly.

Prince Lucas blushed and then giggled. “He is rather tall.” He nodded.

Miriam snorted. “Let’s stop and set up camp. Eat for a moment, get some rest. You and Prince Lucas can do whatever omegas do, together.”

Horangi rolled his eyes but Miriam snapped her fingers and the horses slowed to a stop. Koenig was the first out of the carriage and Horangi followed, helping Prince Lucas out. Miriam set up a small area for them to eat at and so Horangi pulled Prince Lucas to a patch of flowers.

They were just wild flowers, several of whom Horangi could name, but he didn’t focus on them, turning to Prince Lucas. “Are you nervous to be married to King Phillip?”

“Who wouldn’t be? I know very little about him.” Lucas sighed and shook his head. “But, this is the best for both me and the Empire.”

Horangi frowned and then nodded, since it was the truth. If what he’d heard about how King Phillip would not join the empire without a marriage alliance was true… Then this was for the best. “You know what Shadow Magic is, right?”

Prince Lucas nodded. “I do… I also know I will not see the sun much in Laupin. And… It is eternal winter there.”

As if summoned, snow started to fall around them, lightly dusting them and the ground. Prince Lucas shivered and Horangi reached forward to secure his cloak around him, tighter. He decided that when they finally returned, he would ask King Alejandro to allow him to guard Prince Lucas until he was married. “Sweet thing…” Horangi frowned.

Prince Lucas relaxed and smiled, shyly, at Horangi. “Thank you… I… I didn’t get to say it before, but you are beautiful too… Even if I can see very little of your face.”

“You would not think so if you could see all of it.” Horangi laughed. He noticed that Miriam seemed to have finished the food so he tugged Prince Lucas over to the small camp.

When they were done eating, Prince Lucas asked if he could sleep near Horangi, so Horangi allowed him to, letting Koenig and Miriam stay up to watch. He put his cloak over Prince Lucas for extra warmth, hugging the other omega. He hadn’t known him very long, but he already regarded him with great affection.

Maybe it was because Prince Lucas and he were so similar… Maybe it was because Horangi hadn’t gotten a chance to form a bond with another omega in so long. Maybe it was just fate. But he had already decided that nothing was going to happen to Prince Lucas under his watch. Nothing.

Do you want to be added to this taglist? Reply to this post that you wish to be added to the taglist and I will start to tag you in it every time I post it. You can also use this form!

@the_pluto_828 @lieutenant-storm @captainsimcoe @del79jji @bearbait-adventures @the-snarky-dragon @thegodofsleep

#konig x horangi #a dance of hearts cod au #horangi cod #omegaverse #koenig cod #omega horangi cod #alpha koenig cod #regency au cod #queue for dinner again hunny?

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miraakulous-cloud-district · 2 years ago

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I was tagged by @bougainvillea-and-saltwater to do this amazingly cool tag game and share the "theme songs" of my fic, all instrumental!! You had such a wonderful idea with this tag game, dear 🥰🥰 **Edit, since this has been in the drafts, @shitty-drawer also tagged me💖💖 Thank you so much, and I actually tagged you in this game 🤣 You were faster than me in posting it.

I thought it was going to be easy, as I listen to a ton of instrumental music, because I also like to always have music in the background! But going off of vibes, this is how I associate music to my fic "Wherever you go, there you are":

"Miasma" by Ghost. This is Ravonna’s theme song. This one, I feel like, it encapsulates Mage!Ravonna perfectly. And that saxophone solo? Groovy! Just like her and her bard side. It also feels like a beautifully threatening song, in a way, and I think it fits her perfectly. The second song for her, because I simply cannot only choose one is "Faronell's Division" by John Playford. This one represents her sassyness as well as her impulsiveness, with all the changes in rhythm

For Miraak, I'm going with "Gnossienne No.5" by Erik Satie, because of the ✨️gentleness✨️ and this song heals the soul, and he's a healer, sooo yeah. The second one I choose for him is "A watering hole in the harbor" by Adam Skorupa; this is such a joyful song, and I feel like it really encapsulates the "I have no idea what y'all are doing, but I'm joining in and I'm so happy to be here" vibe that Miraak has once he gets more comfortable and lets go of the Miraak persona and embraces his true self <3

Now for the WYGTYA as a whole and general vibes:

I find myself listening to "Thunderbrew" by David Arkenstone a lot while writing, and since it has such a tavern-y vibe to it, this could be the theme for the fellowship whenever they are at a tavern having fun, drinking, eating and being in their natural habitat 🤣

"People of the land" by Jan Valta is the absolute perfect song for showing beautiful landscapes of both Morrowind and Skyrim, while also being the perfect song for Ravonna’s inner struggles to figure out whether she feels more at home in Skyrim, the land of her people, or in Morrowind, the land where she grew up. This is also the Civil War storyline theme, in my heart :')

"City of Sails" by Inon Zur is a theme that I don't know how to explain, without giving away spoilers :)))) It has ties to Ravonna's family, but will also represent the land of High Rock (yes, the story will go there too🤣) Also this one is one of those songs that I am kind of emotionally attached to, for some reason. I just wish I lived within this song, in a way.

And for the extra ocs:

For Endryn, I have "Tavern" by Jason Hayes, this one is pretty obvious, he is my beloved innkeeper dunmer oc who adopted Ravonna. He was very friendly, kind, stressed and quite funny, dad joke expert.

For Hjaldir, my other beloved oc, the nord bard that worked at the Inn where Ravonna grew up, because he is an ex-pirate, I'm going for "Moonlight Serenade" by Klaus Badelt. I don't associate him with the character Jack Sparrow all that much, but this song draws the perfect image of a charming and charismatic pirate, and the tune is incredibly melodious, so it really fits his bard persona well! Also, the intense part is perfect for his adventurous and danger-filled life. He's got many, many stories from his pirate days 😉

If you made it until here, I literally love you so much! Thank you for reading my ramblings. I could talk about songs and music all day!

I'm tagging my usual favourite mutuals @kiir-do-faal-rahhe @thelavenderelf @nerevar-quote-and-star Y'all already know you don't have to do this if you don't want to 💖💖 just ignore me and if I'm being annoying with the tag games, do let me know. This is not my intention at all! I will stop tagging you if you don't want to participate.

#skyrim #skyrim fanfiction #wygtya #wygtya stuff #miraak x ldb #miraak x dragonborn #oc: ravonna #miraak #oc: endryn #oc: hjaldir #Spotify

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jolikmc-stuff · 4 years ago

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I've been messing around with Furcadia, again, lately. I used to play it all-the-freaking-time, back in the 2000s. Maybe even earlier! A lot of good times were had, there, and I met some truly wonderful people. There's one, in particular, that I– … … … … i-in any case, I was messing with the Character Creation Wizard and got an idea to create some interpretation of the one-and-only Panda Jenn as a Furcadia character. It turned out… eeehh… but I sent it to her, anyway. After that, I hit the Random button on the species selection and it gave me a ferret. And, uh… that one turned out a fair bit better. I liked the design and the colors so much, in fact, that I actually turned her into my own original character! Go figure, huh? As a testiment to her inspiration, I even gave her a "total sound-alike" name: Juniper!

In Furcadia canon (I'm as surprised as you are), Juniper is of the Veldor clan of gypsies, which are predominantly canine, feline, and musteline. Rather than travel with the caravans, however, she tends to wander on her own, trading her primary skill for whatever she can get. What's her skill? Entertainment! Specifically, she's a dancer. She'll happily dance for a warm meal, a place to stay, and above all… coin. When that isn't an option, she finds other ways to get by, such as taking odd-jobs at local taverns and inns, or by doing the occasional task for a random townsperson. She doesn't stay in one place for very long, though, as trouble has a tendency to pop up – and shiny things tend to disappear – wherever she goes…

I wouldn't usually make pixel art for a Furcadia character, but I honestly really like how she turned out. I guess the combination of Panda Jenn's colors and the official art just… worked! I'm quite fond of her~ And, I like how my little pixel graphic turned out, too. And yes, I gave her human-like feet in the pixel art instead of the animal-like feet she has in her "official art." I also totally stole her boot design from somewhere, I'm sure of it. (I thought it was Rina Cat's Wandersong self-insert art, but her boots don't look like that…)

[Pixel Art] I Don’t ‘Dook,’ Honey, I Dance!

Originally created: June 15th, 2020

When in motion, she moves like a dancer, but when idle, well… she tends to look at shiny things, a lot.

Pixel art style based on Mega Man 7 created by and © Capcom Co, Ltd. Character based on the Furcadia female musteline character art created by “Lobsel Vith,” “Majas,” and “TiggerBaby” for Dragon’s Eye Productions Juniper Veldor and related characters and concepts created and drawn by and © Jo Li

Creator’s comments under the Read More

#pixel art #style match #Mega Man 7 #fan art #I guess?#Furcadia #original characters #Juniper Veldor #musteline #common ferret #cutie #I love her

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doctorslippery · 4 years ago

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The Pillar of First Blood – A 15ft dark stone pillar that has engraved writing on each side ‘The spot where the first blood was split between a batch of common devils”.

The Drawing Moss – A smooth stone with a bunch of growing moss on it. Touching the stone with a bare hand results in the moss slowing moving to wherever was touched. On the stone are several handprints and doodles perfectly covered over with the moss.

Curci’s Crypt – A small white stone structure deep in the woods with carvings of trees on each side. Entering brings you into the hidden crypt of Curci.

The Crumbling Shack – Far away from any civilization lays what once was a small shack. The windows are broken, some walls have crumbled away, and parts of the roof are open and fallen in.

Trio of Faces – On the side of a rocky cliff are a well carved trio of protruding faces all looking the same direction

Cone Shaped Prison – In the middle of a grassy field stands an 8ft slim cone made of iron bars, in the middle of the structure lies a sun-bleached skeleton bound in iron shackles.

The Tree of Sacrifice – A abnormally large and oddly pale brown tree where the branches are twisted, and the leaves are a sickly saturated green color. At the base of the tree lies a blood stained alter that the roots of the tree have grown around it and now hold it in place. The base of the tree as well as the ground around the alter are permanently stained a deep red. If the tree is cut, a thick blood sap seeps out of wound. If a creature is sacrificed on the alter, the blood pools near where the roots touch the alter and are absorbed while what appear to be veins appear on the tree that go up into the branches.

The Bone Pit – In an open field there is a 10ft wide and 50ft deep pit with no life growing around it. The walls of this chasm are lined with dark cobblestone and going down there are three uneven sized holes that are covered by iron bars. At the bottom there are a large pile of bones.

The Odd Stone Slab – A big square stone slab rests hidden near the side of the road. Carved into the slab is a symbol and a riddle that upon answering correctly leads to a small dungeon.

The Copper Fox – A 4ft oxidized copper statute of a fox with a small locked box in its mouth and two ruby eyes.

The Pointing Eagle – On top of a large rock formation is a big iron statue of an eagle pointing its body to the east.

The Feasting Table – Out away from any kind of civilization sits a large gray solid stone table with ancient carvings on the sides. Upon its surface are newly lit candles and a banquet of food that seems to be warm, fresh, and untouched by its surroundings. If one where to eat or take anything from the table, the next day it would be completely restocked and replenished.

The Jeweled Bush – A seemingly average looking berry bush that happens to grow small jewels instead of berries. If one where to try and consume one of the jewels picked off of the bush within 24hrs, that person gains a temporary magical effect or bonus, otherwise it’s a normal jewel.

The Ice Blood Spot – Located on the cliff face of a large mound of ice there is one spot that is dark red instead of the pure blue that surrounds it.

Dragon’s Graveyard – in a valley, there are 8-10 adult dragon skeletons, half-buried.

Petunia, the Land Whale – A large whale skeleton surrounded by petunias. The whale is miles away from the sea and the petunias aren’t native to this location.

Wondrous Obelisk – an obelisk, comprised of rose quartz and decorated with sylvan runes, appears to be of fey origin. it is surrounded in a 120-foot field of wild magic.

The Old Folk Hero – A half erected statue of an old folk hero. Either under construction or half crumbled.

The Hope Tree – It’s an oak tree with the word hope carved into it in large letters. No one knows who did it or why, but it’s turned into a useful landmark for the local village.

The Moon’s Egg – It’s a massive dome-like stone formation that shines pearlescent in the moonlight. It lays in a bare outcropping of rock and is warm to the touch.

Hollering Pit – A 50ft deep sinkhole. Well-hidden at the bottom is the lair of an accomplished burglar who calls himself the Jeweler. He’s too old to do much in the way of harm, but the countless traps he installed are not.

The Painted Cliff Face – A cliff that has been entirely covered in paint from hundreds of people.

Threeshades Tower- A weathered, ivy-mantled square tower atop a small hill. Has three levels, and each is built from a different kind of stone. The longsword stuck in one of the bricks on the top level is +1 and can project the bearer’s voice up to 50’ away.

Pigeons’ Chest – an ornate, but empty, chest of silver and pearl sitting by the road. It will not move by any means yet discovered, material nor magical.

The Ol’ Inn – The ancient ruins of a strangely ‘modern-looking’ tavern located in the deepest patches of forest. No path leads to it, no other buildings or ruins are found besides it, but dozens of deformed footsteps can be found heading out of the site. At night, the faint, muffled sound of a single viol can be heard coming out of the muddy floor.

The Forgotten Emperor’s Statue – An incredibly detailed, broken bust of a young wood elf, bearing a red crown. Its nose and left ear are missing and where its left eye should be, the socket is destroyed, and a monstrously decomposed snake eye can be found. The base has a bronze plaque which reads (in broken Celestial): ‘The only one truly meant to rule’, followed by a name which seems scratched out.

The Candle Trees – deep in the woods, a small group of trees whose leaves are bright red. They contrast starkly with the normal trees around them. The Candle trees appear otherwise normal, but the dried leaves can be brewed into a tea that warms the bones even on the coldest nights.

Tale of a Desert’s Origin – A granite obelisk in the desert with glyphs on it. It seems to tell the tale of a very powerful magic user stealing all the life from this area, killing all the plants and turning it into a desert.

The Waning Waterfall – a small waterfall that appears to reverse direction on every night with a bright full moon, running up instead of down.

The Sandmount – There’s a strange dune of sand in the middle of this grassy field, covered in scorpions.

The Awoken Stones – three stone pillars at the top of a hill, each engraved with a different rune of no known language. The pillars appear to change positions, but how this is done is unknown.

Ghost village – There’s a half-buried village in the sand, with sandstone walls being the only remnants… except for one house, which has a simple roof and door carved into the stone.

Impossible Shipwreck – Dashed upon the rocks are the remains of a large merchant ship. Weathered and ancient, the skeletons of the crew still scattered around though most everything of value has long since been looted. The most peculiar thing about this is that the rocks, and ship, are in a cavern 100ft underground, miles from the nearest navigable waters.

Sapphire Beach – a small stretch of coastline hidden between two nigh-inaccessible cliff faces. The sand is particularly fine and a brilliant blue. Rumor has it that the sand was formed when giants destroyed the jewel horde of a local dragon. There are also rumors of a dragon being sighted in the oceans nearby. Digging deep into the sands turn up giant bones.

The Lovers’ Spring – a secluded hot spring, with the initials of many young lovers carved into nearby rocks. Discarded and forgotten undergarments can be found on tree branches in the area.

The Arms of the Last Bard – A broken but thick 15ft wide half-circle embedded to the ground made of quartz and intricately laced with gold strips. An assortment of precious gems are embedded in its surface. Any attempt to collect and/or destroy this construct will cause severe psychic damage and a loud high-pitched tone to play loudly. The half-circle aligns perfectly with sunset/sunrise and every time it does, the most beautiful flute melody plays that is sourceless.

The Iron Tree – A big, old tree which seems to be made of iron, but as far as anyone can tell, is alive and growing, if slowly.

Hades’ Hand – A 15ft tall stone hand stretches from the ground, reaching for the sky.

The Stone Toad – A gigantic stone carving of a toad’s head, crumbling, half-buried, and covered in moss.

The Wrecked Ship – The sun-bleached wreckage of a ship that ran aground long ago. Inside the hull is a massive cage with thick steel bars that appear to have been smashed outward from the inside.

The Three-Sided Tower – A half-collapsed stone tower with curious triangular architecture. The bones of a lonely watchman sitting in a chair lie atop it. The watchman wears a helmet shaped like a triangular pyramid. Several towers of this type can be found around the same area.

Giant’s Playground – this field is entirely stone, and many massive footprints can be seen stomped into it. There are boulders laying around, some cracked.

The Fallen Hero – The legs of a giant metal statue standing beside the top of a waterfall overlooking the valley below. At the bottom of the lake below the falls, the head and torso can be found. It appears to be the likeness of a famous ancient hero that a PC might recognize.

The Charity Cave – A cave with a chest that says, ‘if you take something, leave something.’ It’s unlocked and has several trinkets inside.

The Eye of the Moon – on top of this hill is a pool surrounded with stone. The water is always cool, and at night the full moon can always be seen in its reflection, regardless of clouds or moon cycle.

Bigfoot – A large tree in the forest that bends and splits in such a way that the bottom looks like a foot, with toes.

Goddess of Death Statue – A worn smooth but still recognizable ancient statue of a goddess of death. At her feet sets a black stone bowl filled with fresh rose petals. If you were to kneel down at the bowl and look up at her, you would see her eyes stare unwaveringly into yours.

The Red Altar – in the middle of a copse in a strange swamp lies a smooth altar made of red stone, with strange carvings of trees and water all around its base. Upon touching the altar, you will hear a voice in your mind ‘sacrifice”, and you will feel a strange primal urge to sacrifice a creature on top of it.

Timnar’s Beard – A copse of trees growing in a single spot on an otherwise barren mountain. Unbeknownst to the world, it is the burial place of a great wizard of earthen magics. It is watched over by a trio of stone golems and a handful of slumbering treants to guard the immense knowledge held within the tomb.

The Sundered Mount – a mountain that appears to have been cleaved in two and creating two crumbling peaks with a narrow cut of a valley between them. It does not appear naturally created.

The Mage Wastes – A region where fertile grassland suddenly stops and abruptly becomes a barren wasteland of decaying grass and reddish soil. It seems as if it was the sight of some magical battle. The ground is pocked with craters and scorch marks, yet it seems as if this battle was an ancient long finished, but the battlefield has remained a wasteland frozen in time.

The Dragons Maw – A series of jutting tooth like spires of black igneous rock which rise out from the sea. These “teeth” have proven to be an extreme hazard to sailors and shipping which pass too near to them. Tearing hulls and ripping sails.

The Gods Sacrament Statue -A old weathered statue of a god with beautiful gems inlaid and surrounded with wicker basket offerings of gold, flowers, food, and trinkets. Stealing from the statue result in a curse (permanent level of exhaustion) from the deity until either greater restoration is cast on the thief or they repent and make an offering of twice the amount stolen. Award inspiration for respectful offerings or prayers given to the statue.

The Dragonblood – A massive artwork carved into a boulder placed some ways away from the banks of a nearby river. The artwork seems to depict a struggle between giants and dragons, with the giants as the victors. The faintly red runes which line it are giantish, and anyone who can decipher them will read that it marks a momentous battle between giants and dragons, over which should decide the course of the river.

The Daughter of the Sun – An enormous stone of a singular soft yellow color. It is hot to the touch but by day it is warm and comfortable simply standing near it. By night however the stone begins to glow brightly, illuminating its surroundings in radiant golden light. Large chips of the same stone can be found in the foliage growing around it. With similar glowing properties.

Would you kindly -A sentient door in the side of a mountain that has short term memory loss. He has no idea of his name or how to open himself but enjoys talking with travelers none the less. Speaking the magic word “please” will cause the door to open revealing a shortcut through the mountain. No form of magic or otherwise can lead through or get around this door without speaking the magic word due to an ancient magical barrier.

The Bread Boy – a small statue in a park depicting a street urchin. In one hand he has what is left of a small loaf of bread. With the other hand he is spreading crumbs for the birds, so they do not go hungry too. A place where the street kids gather.

Sculpture Garden – a small clearing in a forest, near a cave mouth, contains dozens of statues of humanoid creatures, many armed & armored, all with looks of surprise & horror on their stone faces.

Saben’s Cauldron – a large, circular pool off of a main river which is geothermally heated.

The Teeth – a series of vaguely conic stone spires lined up along a gentle arc. Each is over 15ft tall and 5ft across at the base, and tapers to a narrow tip. Nobody knows the origin of this formation. Some say the teeth are all that remains from some colossal dragon skeleton, others think the stones were placed there by a dragon cult, or as a sign from Bahamut.

Mage-Crater – a 120ft diameter crater. Now filled with water and inhabited by pond creatures.

The Old Man – a natural rock formation that just happens to look like the face of an old man with a long beard. Ruins of temples from several ancient civilizations can be found in the valley below, apparently attracted there to worship the face, or perhaps just to be under his watchful gaze. Most humanoid races in the region are sure the old man looks like their race and have their own legend about him.

The Deino Flats -roughly 40 acres of salt flats. A long dried up saltwater marsh from ancient times.

Grand Defender – a large, symmetrical hill where the site of a great battle once was. Stone rubble and ruins barely peaks out from the top. Flowers are left there every so often.

The Adventurers Billiard Hall – A stone statue of a Local adventurer rests on a green glass dome in the center of a public lake. The dome is lit gently from beneath. Somewhere nearby lies a dilapidated entrance which runs through a small puzzle focused dungeon.

Turned-Inn – An inn that has been carefully constructed to appear as if it was turned upside-down.

The Signposts – A collection of several dozen poles each with a dozen or more signs mounted to them pointing towards various distant lands, nearby businesses, and bizarre joke locations. It started with travelers who erected a signpost pointing to their distant homelands which other travelers added to. Eventually it got out of hand.

Worm’s Desert – A small sandy desert only a couple hundred acres in size of so. A great desert-making worm arrived from another world and sought to covert the world into an ecosystem like its home but caught a local disease it was unresistant to and died before it made much progress. The residual poison from the worm’s body deters plants from overtaking the sand.

Lightning Lab – A bizarre building with a strange mushroom-shaped metal lattice on top. It was the lab of a researcher studying non-magical electricity who died from electrocution.

The Sandlot – A square of property with no building where children come to play. A greedy landlord raised the rent on a long-term elderly tenant when they purchased the property, driving the tenant into poverty and eventually death. The tenant cursed the land with dying breath that no-one would never profit from the property. Every future tenant was driven out by terrifying haunts, and eventually the building was burned down.

Dwarven Monument – An enormous high relief of six dwarven warriors cut from a cliff pointing the way along, commemorating their epic journey.

Atlas Boulders A series of differently sized large stone spheres far too large for a man to lift. The strongest giants would lift them to prove their strength. They sometimes move, so perhaps the giants still use them.

Ancient Battlefield – ramparts, high hills, and trenches filled with water that stretch for mile marking the location an ancient battlefield. It has grown over.

The Epicenter – A large swath of woods where all the trees in a massive circle have been bent at a 90-degree angle towards the center but continue to grow that way. There is nothing (currently) anomalous at the center, but a powerful coven of druids hold it as one of their holiest places and guards it closely.

Ol Demons Place – a once portal to the abyss, sealed by hero’s long ago, now just a crumbling arch with an unsettling aura.

The Broken Hill – a hill that you need to walk uphill to get to and walk uphill to get away from.

The Rooster of Mourning – An enormous statue of a rooster, made from a strange metal, finely detailed and colored. It is hollow, and when the first ray of sunrise strikes it, a great, sad-sounding crow arises from it. Legend says that it commemorates a great battle in the distant past.

The Angry Spot – a small stone platform on the top of a hill, standing on the platform makes a person irrationally angry. Barbarians may involuntarily rage as a result.

The Alter of a Thousand Arms. – At a crossroads sits an unusual statue, made of stone it stands over 10 feet tall and has arms sticking out in every direction with their palm turned upwards. In nearly every hand there is a candle, some still lit but most are fully melted. Placing a candle in one of the hands and lighting it will give the player the blessing of ‘A helping hand.’ When a player next fails a roll, they may roll an additional d6 and add it to their total.

The Weeping Sister – A fifteen-foot statue of a girl unmarred by time. Next to her are the shattered remains of another statue, close enough that the body may have once held her outstretched hand. The feet of this larger statue are all that remain affixed to the earth – the rest is scattered throughout the clearing. Water, clean and pure, travels down her face in steady rivulets but leaves no erosion there.

The Sensible Stone Head -a large stone head protruding from the surface of a glacier. It is the head of an earth elemental and if you get his attention, he is friendly. If asked what he is doing their he replies ”swimming in the river”, given he exists at a geological place the slow flow of the glacier is like a river to him.

Glass Tree – A fairly tall an elaborate tree made entirely out of glass raises from the earth, at its base there is a plaque written in dwarven, it’s to commemorate a dwarf leader who fell in battle.

The Titan’s Blade – A 50 ft rust covered sword driven into the earth. The whole area has a magical aura and no wildlife lingers within a quarter mile of the sword.

The Well of Good Tidings – A well by the side of the road that is a base in a local hafling tradition that if one where to lose a tooth, that it is to be tossed in the well with a tip of the hat. When doing so, good fortune is sure to come. Characters that throw in teeth later find small amounts of wet coins in various locations on their person. Characters that throw rubbish, or are otherwise disrespectful of the well, find their respective objects on their person once more soaking wet and covered in bite marks.

Skilltown – A small but clearly once-bustling town lays abandoned inside of a titan’s skull. The skull is half buried in the sand; its eye sockets and mouth aim up at an angle. Walking through its mouth is the only way to enter the town. The skull looks to be that of an enormous version of whatever scariest creature lives in that area. It provides ample shade during most of the day.

Best Rest Graveyard – A cleric once prayed over a graveyard that all within would ‘rest well.’ Now anyone who falls asleep in that graveyard has the best night of sleep they’ve ever had.

Bird Hill – a grassy hill of noticeable height rises from the otherwise flat plains. On the hill are several lines of cobblestone that do not grow grass and have no discernible pattern from the surface. If flying, however, you see the cobblestone lines form the shape of a bird, along with some arcane symbols. If you happen to look up during the spring or fall, you’ll see migratory birds alter their course to fly over this hill.

Stairway to Nowhere – All that remains of an ancient fortress, the remarkably well constructed staircase rises for 3 stories out of the ground at the end of an ancient road, and then just abruptly stops.

The Crossroads – This is the place where four kingdoms meet. The main road for each lead to a massive stone pillar. Many years ago, all four kingdoms were at war, and a pillar was placed there as a symbol that none from neighboring kingdoms would be allowed to cross. It is now an annual meeting place for the four to discuss their continued amnesty.

Cloudland Canyon – It’s a canyon nestled in a northern mountain range that’s so high even the base of the canyon is a higher elevation than most of the other mountains in this world. Wondrously magical things occur here.

Stone Tree Garden – It was a garden from a former ancient culture, which vanished out of unknown reasons. One of the only things found was this tree garden. Are the trees made of stone or turned to, no one knows.

‘The Circle’ -There once was a meteorite which crashed into the land. The first to arrive found weird writing in a (Insert required size) diameter circle. No one could read what was written. In the center of the circle, where the meteor should have been, there was nothing, not even a small crater.

The Well – A seemingly normal well on the top of a hill. Anything that is placed into it is immediately tossed out of it.

The Pariah’s Mountain -One mountain among an otherwise unimpressive range, its only defining feature is its completely upside down. The base measures about 60ft across, but the peak 3,000ft up is easily a mile across. Stairs may have been carved into the side, but the climb down to the summit (or is it up to the base? The locals aren’t quite sure) is precarious at times. The locals are also similarly vague when asked about what’s on top…

Worried stones – A group of 3 standing stones with anxiety. When encountered in their clearing, they will disappear once all eyes are off them. Careful inspection will reveal them to hiding nearby – peeking from behind a nearby tree, bottom of a lake, hidden by bushes, behind where the party is now looking, etc. If discovered, they disappear again if not observed. The stones are not malicious, and do not harm the party. They would just rather you all left them to it, thank you.

The Quiet Creek – An otherwise ordinary creek that runs through a forest. It is abnormally quiet near the stream, in such that there is almost no echo around it, and it is surprisingly hard to hear from a distance. All along its course stand small boulders, almost fully grown over with moss.

The Shifting Hills – A large field of hills, dotted with rocks, grasses, and flowers. Careful study has found the hills are constantly moving, as though old creatures crawl along under a carpet of earth. Magics which call upon the earth always seem to produce unexpected results when among them.

The Devil’s Wager – A large disc shaped stone at the base of a long dormant volcano. Visitors toss a copper at it for good luck. There are a couple hundred copper around it. It is considered extraordinarily bad luck to take the coppers.

The Swordleaf Trees – there is a patch of trees here with a non-stop turbulent wind rustling the leaves and branches violently. The leaves’ edges appear to be razor sharp.

Beacon Mountain – A mountain that, on some nights, has a bright ball of light form over it which slowly dissipates over several hours. Local religion strictly forbids climbing the mountain.

Mist Valley – a short pathway of stone carved into a mountain, roughly five feet wide with names of couples and graffiti on the stone walls. The pathway always has a thick fog settled over it, making it seem eerie.

Ancient Battleground – Deep in a forest, trees are marred with years old axe and sword marks. Hundreds of skeletons dressed in rusted armor and weapons lie in this area. Taking a trinket, or even loitering may be unwise.

True Clarity Bridge – A bridge between two high places that, for many people, while staring off the side, provides answers for their most troubling issue or deep question, whether they were looking for the answer or not.

Lover’s Glade – Two sequoia trees whose bases are over a hundred feet apart have grown together and connect about 160 to 180 feet off the ground. The branches and leaves of these giant trees create a pleasantly shaded area below which is often used by the local populace as sites of wedding ceremonies.

Round Rock – A mysterious perfectly round rock that stands nearly 20ft tall. It is too heavy to roll and never seems to chip. It is the center of many local legends, varying wildly on their truthfulness.

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saphirered · 3 years ago

Note

I absolutely love you're writing and would love just general headcanons for Yussa and his Bard SO. Please and thank you!

Sorry this took so long. Hope you like it! 😘

When Yussa first met you, or heard you he almost spilled the contents of his latest carefully planned, prepared and measured project. You made him jump and almost set him back weeks worth of work so when he found himself angrily looking out of the window where that angelic voice came from, it turned out it came right from below, in the square near the Tidepeak. He couldn’t deny you not only had a beautiful voice but knew out way around a lute and lyre too. The music had been beautiful but came at an inopportune moment, no matter what he did he couldn’t block out the sound.

When the music returned the next day during his reading it was very much pleasant. So pleasant he actually moved his chair over to the balcony so he could see you play from the square. Now with a better look, not only were you a great musician, you’re gorgeous at that too and he was not at all surprised to see the crowd gathered below watching you play and hanging onto every word of your song. He’d sent Wensforth to deliver you a generous reward for your entertainment. He’d seen the donations people left in a hat at your feet but deemed your skills rather undervalued. If you wanted to you could gather a crowd contesting those who attended the Ruby of the Sea’s performances, in his opinion.

Day after day, this nicely dressed goblin would bring you a most generous amount of coin that provided you not only a stay in a lavish inn, but also paid for all your daily expenses and then some. In the middle of your performance you couldn’t go after the goblin to thank him for his donation but on a particularly rainy day you were able to follow where he went; into the tower people had warned you of, the one without doors and only a balcony and some windows that seemed to move every day or even hour.

So after your performance you went knocking. Of course there was no door so you felt a little stupid knocking against the stone tower. When no answer came you just sat down at the base gently plucking away at the strings of your instrument. You’d wait to see if someone came home or left. It was nightfall when you saw someone on the balcony and you shouted up.

Little did you know this would be the beginning of something life changing. The Tidepeak would not be a place you’d distance yourself from and its master even less so. He’d ask you to play for him, revealing he had been sending you these generous donations. Yussa Errenis had offered you more than triple what he had given you for no more than an hour of musical entertainment once a week, more than you’d make in that same week alone so how could you refuse.

Those once a week for an hour extended to several times a week and long conversations after as not only were you an expert musician, you made for company just as good and for the first time in a long time Yussa realised he might not be as much of a solitary creature after all. He was simply lacking the company he needed and could appreciate. There was a mutual understanding and trust between you two, and a honesty he had not found anywhere else.

You let Yussa hear the new songs you’d been working on and pieces you were composing first before you played them in the open, and even left some of them just for his ears and realising this may just have made the stoic wizard blush like never before. You’d managed to break that attitude and while a man of manners and a head held high attitude, he wasn’t as cold nor distant with you. Though, not even you could tame that arrogance. Nor did you want to. There was something attracting about that.

You’re both smart enough people to know when an infatuation grows into something more and this is it. So you did what any reasonable adult would do; sat down and worked it out, communicated and figured out where you would stand in this. When the feeling turned out to be mutual it worked in both your favours as you could simply engage in that instead of keeping up an air of professionalism between musician and patron.

That did not mean your private concertos stopped. If anything they grew more frequent and if you weren’t on the road, had another place to perform or the weather was just simply bad, the door of the Tidepeak would be open to you day and night, and Yussa’s company at your side be that to listen to you play, you gently strumming away while he worked, or the two of you talked until the early hours of morning about your lives, your songs, his work or the hardships and frustrations you’d endured since you last met.

Physical affection would have to go slow. You might not be as opposed, it’s something Yussa needed to be eased into. Having lived alone and without the comforts of another for so long, he quickly got overwhelmed and needed a moment for himself. Never would you shame or judge him for that. You understood and that’s when he knew for sure he could see a future with you.

From that moment on, no more would you sleep in a tavern or an inn or wherever else you found suitable. You’d get your own space at the Tidepeak to do with as you pleased and while he had given you your own sitting room and balcony, you’d still most often found your way to his study even if just to sit there. Yussa wasn’t at all opposed to this as he rather enjoyed your company regardless of volume. He’d gotten used to it and would miss your presence when working.

Kisses were a rarity for the first few months and Yussa let you take the lead when it came to them but over time he grew more daring and eventually even came to initiate them of his own volition and without a feeling of needing to satisfy you but simply because he enjoyed them. You’d find yourself sitting on the couch, Yussa using you as a pillow while he read and he’d press a kiss against wherever was most convenient from his position. It never failed to make you smile and he’d do it just to see you smile, taking pride in getting such a gentle response.

Yussa is not a trusting person and that doesn’t mean he doesn’t trust you but old habits do die hard. Sleeping in the same space had been something he just couldn’t do, not even the meditative trance of his elvish blood. However, when you two fell asleep on the couch together, that made that easier. A bed was still a big no for sleeping purposes but the couch had become better and better and no longer would he lie awake while you slept.

Going out in public with Yussa may have been a bigger step in your relationship than physical intimacy of any kind. Yussa knew the opinions of the sharks around him and what lengths they would go to get into his good graces and he wanted to shield you from that, if not for your own sake then for his. But he couldn’t simply act like you didn’t exist and his changes in attitude came out of nowhere as those sharks also weren’t fools.

Attending a ball with Yussa was always something, you’d be stared down like the main show of the evening, or as if you just entered the room stark naked but you were very sure you weren’t. You’d be swarmed by people in a matter of moments, people wishing to hear the latest gossip and figure out your exact connection with the master of the Open Quay and during Yussa’d be internally screaming absolutely exasperated by these intruding annoyances and simpletons. Luckily he had your charm to save yourself and him. You’d deflected all advances, questions and unpleasant encounters like a protective shield with ease and grace and if those failed you a simple discrete spell to charm them into leaving you the hell alone was not out of the question. He couldn’t be more thankful. Maybe he should bring you along more often as you had proven to be his saving grace.

You may not be a politician nor were you schooled in his kind of magic. He may not be a musician nor was he particularly schooled in the ways of the bard’s colleges. None of that mattered because you were both willing to learn, showing an interest in the life of the other. Admittedly certain practices would never be the thing for the other but that didn’t matter because you could still appreciate the other’s love for it.

At the end of the day you were happy and would be happy, be that because you wrote a new song or Yussa cracked the code to a spell of his own making, you for scoring an invitation to play at some famous place in front of some renowned individuals, or him for making way in his practices and helping a group of curious individuals end a threat looming over this world. You were content with your wildly different lives and happy a song and an annoyance began it all.

#critical role x reader #critrole x reader #mighty nein x reader #yussa x reader #yussa errenis x reader #critical role #mighty nein

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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 4 years ago

Text

The Smallest Sunflower

I’ve been really under the weather the last few days so this is purely self-indulgent, curse-based fluff.

Cursed!Geralt and lots of cuteness.

---

Jaskier frowned as he gazed out the window of their tiny attic room. His eyebrows furrowed as he scanned the road frantically, every moment blurring into the next as his anxiety rose and his anger faded. He was worried about Geralt. Terrified.

The Witcher had said just this afternoon how easy the contract would be. How simple it was to deal with a few nekkers in the woods. How he’d be able to return to the inn by nightfall; well he certainly failed to fulfill that promise.

Jaskier paced. He played. He wrote lyrics and ran through some scales. He went down into the tavern below their room and performed for a half-room of drunkards a handful of coin; he didn’t need the money so much as he needed a distraction.

Where the fuck was Geralt!?

Jaskier had been asleep on a bench in the common room for gods-knew-how-long when he was awoken rather suddenly by the sensation of something small and furry rubbing up against the leg of his trousers. A soft purring caught his attention and when he leaned down to see what little creature had approached him, a tiny white kitten with wide golden eyes stared back. It cocked its head cutely to the side and waited for Jaskier to pick it up.

“Hmm,” he groaned, sitting up properly and stretching. He scooped up the kitten into his left palm and retrieved his lute with the unoccupied hand. “I guess Geralt won’t be getting back until morning. I hope he’s okay.”

The incredibly small, snowy-white kitten made a sort of half-sneezing little sound and pawed impatiently at the lacey collar of Jaskier’s chemise. “Mew.”

“No, darling, I can’t go out into the woods tonight. If the monsters didn’t kill me, Geralt most definitely would,” the bard closed the attic door behind him and set the interloper on the bed. “That grouchy bastard. Why is it that bards always fall in love with the most cantankerous characters?”

“Mrew.”

“Exactly! You’d think I’d get it through my thick skull that Geralt doesn’t love or worry about me the same way I love and worry about him, but it’s too late now! I’m in over my head! I’m head-over-heels, rather. My heart has run amok and taken the rest of me with it, following that rude, short-tempered, endlessly sweet and sexy Witcher wherever he goes,” the bard ranted as he readied himself for bed. Jaskier eventually finished his speech and his routine and settled beneath the covers. He patted a comfortable-looking spot on his sternum and made soft, gentle sounds until the kitten approached him.

“I suppose you’ll need a name,” he mused, watching the puny ball of fur curl into a little ball on his chest. It rested its head on its paws and continued to purr loudly. “Perhaps Dandelion, for your yellow eyes? Or Sunflower? I like Sunflower best. The tiniest blossom in all the land.”

The kitten mripped quietly and stretched its tiny paws, revealing the little pink bean-shaped pads beneath its sharp, untrimmed baby claws. Jaskier bit his lip to keep from squealing and frightening the little animal away. It was just so cute and small and soft. “Surely Geralt won’t let me keep you,” he sighed sadly. “Or I’d put you in my saddle bag and take you on the merriest adventures.”

“Mrew.”

“Stop being so adorable. I can’t take it, Sunflower, truly I can’t.”

The kitten remained silent; its small, quick breaths finally evened out as it fell into a deep sleep. Jaskier, now much calmer with something to ground him, allowed himself to slip into the world of dreams shortly thereafter.

---

The morning brought no clearer sign of Geralt and with a heavy heart, Jaskier began to pack his things. Sunflower batted and pawed at his trouser leg, meowing and chirping ferociously as the bard’s bags grew only slightly more organized. “No worries, Sunflower, I’ll bring you with me. No doubt Geralt would just shoo you away and I don’t want you ending up drowned or eaten or-”

Jaskier’s façade slipped and he suddenly burst into tears. He collapsed to the floor and wrapped his arms around his knees. He hadn’t had a breakdown like this in months, maybe years. He’d never been so worried about Geralt before. He wasn’t even sure why he was packing up...

Geralt wasn’t... He couldn’t be, you know...

Jaskier couldn’t even think the word.

The bard channeled his worry elsewhere, petting Sunflower’s soft white coat as he mewed and chirped some more, purring up a storm. “Oh Sunflower, will he ever come home to me again? Is he lost forever to the forest?”

The bard lifted the puny animal into his hand and pressed a soft kiss to the center of its forehead.

He was not expecting Geralt to suddenly appear out of nowhere, a handful of his hair held tightly in Jaskier’s grip. Both men yelped and Geralt sat up quickly, trying to explain himself as the bard looked around frantically for the kitten. “Where’d he go? Where did you come from!? Where is Sunflower!?”

Geralt took a deep, steadying breath and adjusted his position on the floor so that he was sitting cross-legged. He ran a hand through his messy hair and sighed. “I... I was Sunflower.”

Jaskier’s facial expression changed from confusion to realization to horror to shame so quickly that Geralt felt his own head spinning. Maybe that was just the curse wearing off; who knew?

“You heard me sa-” Jaskier clapped a hand over his mouth and scuttled backwards, away from Geralt. The Witcher’s heart twinged uncomfortably in his chest. Jaskier had never been this afraid of him before. The scent of fear filled the room, warm around the edges with a bit of anxiety. “You heard me say so many things. Things I’m sure you never wanted to hear.”

“I killed the nekkers,” Geralt offered rather unhelpfully. “And then I think I stepped into fairy ring or a witch’s trap or something because the next thing I remember was finding my way to your table downstairs.”

“What do you remember?”

“I...” Geralt sighed and summoned all of his courage, glancing up to meet the tearful gaze of his best friend and companion. “I remember you ranting about how much you love me.”

“And?”

“And that you don’t think I loved you back. Not in the same way.”

“I’ll finish packing up,” Jaskier whispered hoarsely. “I’ll be gone before dinner, I swear it.”

Geralt stood and scooped his blushing, half-sobbing bard into his arms. “No need, Jaskier. I feel the same. Also, Sunflower was the perfect name.”

#geraskier fluff #bouncey's self indulgent sick day fic #geraskier #geraskier soft #cursed geralt #kitten geralt #animal geralt #love confession #getting together #kitten fluff #jaskier and small animals #he's the bardic snow white #canon universe

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canary3d-obsessed · 4 years ago

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Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 09 second part

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Blather)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Wen Chao’s Weird Bird, Redux

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji walk away after killing the dire bird, and then Wen Chao, who was standing like 2 feet away, comes to collect its resentful little corpse. He totally heard Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji talking about him.

Wen Memorial

Now we visit the Wen memorial, which Wei Wuxian 2.0 won’t remember when he sees it again. Everyone who isn’t a Wen is confused and awkward while the Wens have an impromptu family conference. Agenda: 1. weeping 2. apologizing to ancestors for involuntarily being turned into temporary zombies. 3. getting the fuck out of dodge before it happens again

This is a burial place, and the non-Wen cultivators are deferential and tentative where before they were bossy. Wei Wuxian’s affect is particularly different from his normal swagger and decisiveness.

Look how gently he asks Wen Qing about this place, thinking carefully and making his expression conciliatory before he opens his mouth to speak.

(more after the cut)

The others react to this revelation by becoming even more awkward and uncomfortable...

But Wei Wuxian responds with shock and sympathy, once again showing why he makes friends wherever he goes, and why he is so vulnerable despite his many strengths. There is no “not my problem” setting in Wei Wuxian’s heart.

It occurs to me, in watching his reaction, that Wei Wuxian doesn’t have a single living blood relation, as far as he or we know, and at this point he has never met a single member of his own clan. Yes yes, he has an adoptive family, and that’s lovely; I’m an adoptive parent myself. But genetic family is also super important, particularly in the ancestor-revering culture we see depicted in The Untamed.

In any case, this moment of standing before the grave of Wen Qing’s people, with these few remaining members of her family--people who he will later get to know so well--seems to resonate with him.

Baby Wen

The scene at the shrine includes our first look at random cute kid massively important character Wen Yuan.

Let’s pretend Wen Yuan is a different age from however old he will be at the end of the Sunshot campaign, since the actor did not magically change ages. Here the character is probably two years old.

Rich Gege Lan Wangji in this scene is wearing the same gorgeous blue color he will be wearing years later when Wen Yuan grabs him and won’t let go. Maybe A-Yuan’s pre-fever memory was super good, and he remembered that Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian belonged together.

Chicken Hunting

Wei Wuxian seems to be all in on this chicken hunt, making sure Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang join him, but then he circles back to talk privately with Wen Qing and Lan Wangji. This was a ruse to distract Jiang Cheng.

Wei Wuxian is very good at manipulating Jiang Cheng and he does it frequently. He takes this ability way, way, way too far when he concocts the whole golden-core plan, which I’ll get into in the relevant episode. But this sibling dynamic is not great in either direction.

Incidentally, nobody asks about the giant chain mark on Wei Wuxian’s throat after he and Lan Wangji come back from their time in the woods together. What kind of rep does he have, exactly?

Having cornered Wen Qing, Wei Wuxian starts to question her seriously, but can’t resist an opportunity to flirt with Lan Wangji like an embarrassing dumbass.

Lan Wangji’s communication skills continue to improve, as he angrily tells Wei Wuxian "bì zuǐ! “ instead of storming off or shanking him with Bichen. [Chinese vocab OP has learned from watching CDramas: bì zuǐ (shut up), duì bù qǐ (sorry), nú cái zuì gāi wàn sǐ (your servant deserves to die for her offense)]

Wei Wuxian makes a visible effort to drag himself back over the line into propriety.

While Wei Wuxian apologizes to Lan Wangji with his eyes, Wen Qing wonders what she ever did to deserve being stuck in the middle of this crap.

Eventually the boys get the whole Wen backstory, and Wen Qing hits the road.

In what will become a repeating motif, Jiang Cheng asks Wen Qing to forget her family, abandon her clan, and bail on her little brother.

What the fuck, dude. You wouldn’t do that to Wei Wuxian and he’s your shige, not your didi. You are on this very road trip out of a sense of concern for him. As a female orphan who is the elder to her male sibling, Wen Qing’s obligation to Wen Ning is enormous even if she didn’t love him to bits. Not to mention she seems to be the clan leader for the Dafan Mountain Wens at this point. Jiang Cheng should understand her, but doesn’t.

Club Ruohan

God I’m boring

At some point in the episode we stop by Club Ruohan. Yawn. WRH tells Wen Chao he’s a dumbass for targeting Wen Qing’s people, and to get back to his fucking project already. Wen Chao talks about wanting to get “Wei Wuxian” and his homies - he doesn’t namecheck Lan Wangji, the ringbearer Yin Iron having person. Just bird-killer Wei Wuxian. That doesn’t bode well for Lotus Pier.

Wen Ruohan is actually fairly reasonable, for a power-hungry megalomaniac who’s busily corrupting himself with dark energies. Most of the atrocities in the “fuck all of the other clans” campaign were Wen Chao’s idea.

Downtown

The gang goes to Qiting and Lan Wangji gets ready to go doorknocking to find out where the next hunk of Iron is. Wei Wuxian stops him and says that his plan is stupid and it sucks.

In a truly amazing display of his developing trust in Wei Wuxian, socially awkward Lan Wangji asks WWX for advice on how to proceed.

Wei Wuxian’s answer is to go drinking. But...he’s not wrong. And he explains his reasoning to Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji before the grabbing and dragging part. Lan Wangji seems to be getting used to that part.

In fact Lan Wangji has already become a lot more comfortable with Wei Wuxian’s extroversion and high spirits than Jiang Cheng is, even though Jiang Cheng isn’t nearly as introverted as Lan Wangji. That’s love for ya.

Tavern Talk

Wei Wuxian slaps a heap of coins down on the table and proceeds to extravagantly order...three jugs of wine. That seems pretty moderate, but they all react like he’s a big spender.

Wei Wuxian: No worries, Rich Gege's got me covered

Wangxian’s old-married-couple dynamic appears on the scene fully formed, as Wei Wuxian slowly undresses a bottle of wine and Lan Wangji tells him to stop dawdling.

Chatting with the guy at the Inn works exactly as well as Wei Wuxian said it would, as he tells them about creepy doings at the old Chang place.

Lan Wangji’s bag of holding, which was definitely not tucked into his perfectly smooth chest placket a second ago....

bursts forth like the xenomorph in Alien, startling everyone and causing Lan Wangji a lot of pain and brow furrowing.

Wei Wuxian leaps over and puts a steadying hand on his shoulder, and tells him to relax and concentrate, in a bit of a role reversal from earlier. Lan Wangji doesn’t shake him off.

Once the Yin Iron settles down again, they dash off to investigate the creepy doings, leaving Nie Huaisang behind to meet up with Meng Yao. I’m sure everyone will be glad some day that they created an opportunity for Meng Yao to join them and the new enemy they are about to capture.

Cheng Compound

At the Cheng compound, the door is shut and there are creepy noises. Time for a talisman!

It’s sweet how when anything fucked-up and necromantic happens, these guys immediately look to Wei Wuxian for the right way to deal with it.

The outfits here form a nice a nice contrast, with the two clan lineal descendants dressed in near-matching blue with silver crowns, while Wei Wuxian has changed out of his blue and red robes and into his future signature black. The leather hair band is as fancy as he gets - he wears his outsider status pretty proudly, even at this early age.

The boys open the doors on a scene so grotesque, even gravity has become meaningless.

Lan Wangji: This is horrifying, so extremely untidy

Jiang Cheng: Do I know any of these people? No? Ok, this is fine then

Wei Wuxian: I wonder if I could kill this many people all by myself. That would be epic.

#fytheuntamed #the untamed #chen qing ling #the untamed gifs #wangxian #the untamed spoilers #restless rewatch the untamed #canary3d-original #my gifs #weird stuff keeps happening with my keep-reading cuts #sorry if there doesnt seem to be a cut on this post #i swear it's there

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dapandapod · 4 years ago

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31. The cold sharp smell of snow, dealers choice for characters?

Ahaha, ahaha sorry, I meant for this to be short! 1343 words later ahaha. I also meant for it to be either fluffy and angsty, but look, we got some of both!

Thank you so very much for this prompt, it absolutely made my day so much brighter, hope you enjoy!

Send me a prompt?

On Ao3 here <3

Things are coming to an end. Again.

Geralt hates hates hates it, the way that the leaves turn rust and gold and the wind start to show its fangs.

Not because they are heading towards darker times. Not because it is getting colder, not even because how his elbow aches from that one time it broke badly.

He hates it because he knows what he must leave.

During the summer his path often crosses with his friends. He meets Triss as he takes a break at whatever court she is at at the time. He meets his brothers sometimes, coming together to fight a royal griffin or just make a local tavern a great deal richer. He meets Yennefer all the times, their paths entwined that is both pain and pleasure.

But the one he looks forward to the most, is the one accompanied with a lute.

Jaskier spends a few weeks at the time with Geralt every year. Most of the year actually, if circumstance allows it. And as soon as the leaves fall, so does Jaskiers smiles.

They both know it is time to part.

Geralt has spent many a winter adrift, but never together with his friend. Probably more than a friend, if he is honest, and Geralt prides himself with lying to no one but himself.

This year is particularly hard. Because Geralt is finally realizing that he actually is lying to himself about how he feels for the bard.

Lying to yourself is one thing, but lying to your friend is completely another.

But Jaskier never asks, because there is nothing to ask about is there? But he wants him to ask, oh how he wants him to. It drives Geralt up the wall, to see their parting coming but doing nothing about it.

So he watches Jaskiers smiles falter, and dreams about making it stay.

He feels the ache right into his core, even before they part.

The emptiness that comes when he leaves the bard behind.

Jaskier watches his witcher.

There is something about the fall that makes Geralt sad, and Jaskier is not sure how to help. His brow furrows, his sighs are deeper, drawing further and further away.

Something small, dark and terrible in the back of Jaskiers head tells him Geralt is tiring of him. That he is too much, that he is driving the witcher away. Because away the witcher goes, every year without a fail. After the leaves fall, before the snow comes, Geralt leaves him behind.

It is that time of the year again, and Jaskier makes a decision. Rip off the band aid, let it bleed for a while.

“I'm leaving tomorrow.” He tells Geralt. The witcher looks stunned, opening and closing his mouth before choosing his words.

“Fine.” is all he gets, then Geralt walks out into the woods.

He is gone for hours, and it hurts. But it is better this way. Better to not wear out his welcome.

Because something is different this year. Geralt looks at him for long moments at the time when he thinks Jaskier isn’t paying attention. Jaskier always pays attention.

Geralt has started touching him more. Not anything big, but a hand on the shoulder here, a pat on the back there. It sends him into flutters every time, it’s hard not to fall straight into that sweet trap his mind is snaring him into. That maybe Geralt cares. Maybe Geralt wants him around.

But fall comes, like it does every year, and Geralt prepares to leave. Draws back.

So it is time to protect himself.

The next morning he sets out, leaving Geralt back at the camp, Pegasus reluctantly taking him towards the nearest inn.

Geralt is half a day away when it happens.

He breaks. His heart beats violently, his hands start to shake and his breaths is coming fast.

Jaskier left him.

No.

He can’t take it.

Not this time. Not ever again, if he can help it.

When he turns Roach around she is eagerly taking them back from where they came. Geralt's elbow aches, his heart aches, he feels so lonely it hurts.

He hates hates hates this.

Jaskier rents a room above the tavern. He will stay for a week and preform, earning some coin for the road.

He unpacks some of his doublets, going through them to see what needs mending.

Just one, he notices.

The others have Geralt's precise stitches on them, and fuck, what is he doing?

Why? Why did he leave?

What if Geralt never comes back for him?

He takes the stitched up doublet and presses it against his chest, as if he could bring Geralt closer. Bring him back.

There is a commotion downstairs, but there always is in places like this, so he pays it no mind. He focus on the sharp sting in his eyes, the tightness in his throat.

Then someone is at his door, pounding hard.

Through the wood he can hear protests, the barkeep very much disliking whoever it is.

“Master witcher, this is most irregular!” He shouts and oh.

Jaskeir throws the door open, doublet still clutched to his chest, and there is Geralt.

They stare at each other, both breathing hard.

There are red blotches on Geralt's cheeks, his fists clenched at his sides. He seems unharmed, but his eyes looks like someone tore out his heart.

“Geralt.” Jaskier breathes, and the spell is broken.

Geralt lunges forward, hugging Jaskier close, kicking the door in the barkeeps face. He is stil complaining but Jaskier can’t care about it for a moment, because his heart is doing kickflips in his chest, his throat so tight it hurts.

His arms are stuck between them, Geralt pressing him close with an arm around his back and one hand on the back of his head.

His nose is cold when he burrows it into the side of Jaskiers neck, and Jaskier draws a jagged breath.

Wriggles to free his arms and the doublet fall at their feet when they come free and he hugs him right back.

“Come with me.” Geralt says to his neck. “Come home with me.”

Jaskier breaks.

His heart beats violently, his hands start to shake and his breaths are coming fast.

“I’ll go anywhere if it’s with you.” He sobs, he feels his chin wrinkle and his can’t see through the tears, but Geralt makes a sobbing sound too, a wet chuckle, and oh.

They stay the night at the tavern.

Geralt only leaves to make sure Roach is stabled next to Pegasus. And in the morning, they leave together.

Towards the mountains.

The air is crisp up here. The sky clear, the sun bright.

They arrive early at the keep, it’s looming walls promising a safe haven of the darkness that is to come.

Jaskier can’t stop smiling, and it is the best decision Geralt ever made. Grabbing his hand, taking a jump.

He shows Jaskier around, all the dizzying paths and empty halls.

They stop on top of a tower, looking down at the land below. There are no leaves up here, only pine needles. Rolling green hills up and down the mountainside. Jaskiers teeth are clattering, the wind running straight through his clothes despite the cloak Geralt draped over him.

So Geralt stands behind him and hugs him close.

With Jaskier leaning against his chest, far above the world, the cold, sharp smell of snow reaches him. The clouds are forming up in the distance, dark and angry. The cold pinches his cheeks, his breath fog.

He kisses the back of Jaskiers head, the bard humming in response and gripping his hands.

“I always hated fall.” Geralt confesses. “I hated having to leave.”

“I always hated watching you go.” Jaskier replies, snuggling closer into the embrace. It is very cold up here, and it is only going to get worse.

“Next time, I’ll follow you. Wherever it might be.”

Jaskier presses Geralt's gloved hand to his lips, and despite the cold, Geralt is burning like a thousand suns.

#the witcher #sensory prompts #tho i strayed a little #as per usual #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #pining!geralt #pining #angst and comfort #fluffy things ahead dont you worry #i love my boys #just gotta torture them some first #geralt of rivia #kaer morhen #julian alfred pankratz #jaskier the bard

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homebrewsno1asked4 · 4 years ago

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Spells: Fame & Obscurity

I read through Ghastly Affair a couple years ago, absolutely love love love love love it. Still have not found a group to play it with; but I'm also an antisocial hobgoblin so it's like 100% my fault.

Little design note: Level 9 might seem a little high, but fame and obscurity rewrite the fabric of time and space as well as the minds of every sapient being in the multiverse. So I think that’s at least on par with wish, yeah?

The following text/mechanics are adapted from Ghastly Affair by Daniel James Hanley.

Fame

9th-level conjuration

Casting Time: 1 action

Range: Touch or self

Duration: Permanent

The effects of fame are permanent; it can only be removed with wish, dispel magic at 9th level, remove curse cast by a creature capable of casting 9th-level spells, or negated with obscurity.

The target of this spell gains expertise in Performance and Persuasion, and they roll all these checks with advantage. However, all Deception checks concerning lies about your identity are made with disadvantage. This spell cancels out features concerning your identity or which require secrecy - such as the Charlatan’s False Identity feature. DM's discretion.

You gain the following features: Library Access (Cloistered Scholar), Court Functionary (Courtier), By Popular Demand (Entertainer), Supply Chain (Failed Merchant), All Eyes on You (Far Traveler), Rustic Hospitality (Folk Hero), Knightly Regard (Knight of the Order), Position of Privilege (Noble), and Ship's Passage (Sailor).

The stress of casting this spell weakens you. After enduring that stress, each time you cast a spell until you finish a long rest, you take 1d10 necrotic damage per level of that spell. This damage can't be reduced or prevented in any way. In addition, your Strength drops to 3, if it isn't 3 or lower already, for 2d4 days. For each of those days that you spend resting and doing nothing more than light activity, your remaining recovery time decreases by 2 days. Finally, there is a 33 percent chance that you are unable to cast fame, wish, or obscurity ever again if you suffer this stress.

THE FOLLOWING FLAVOR TEXT IS ADAPTED FROM “GHASTLY AFFAIR” BY DANIEL JAMES HANLEY:

“The target of this spell is almost immediately confronted with new-found fame. Wherever they go, somebody will know who they are. Musicians will sing songs about their accomplishments, however commonplace or meager. Strangers will look at them with admiration, young women (or men) will seek them out for romance, and taverns will let them drink for free. Even the local authorities will know who the character is, and may request their help with difficult situations. The character may find references to themselves in songs and books that were written before the effect was used on them. They may be confronted with ancient prophesies regarding their glorious destiny.

On the other hand, any character under the influence of fame will find it impossible to hide out or disguise themselves. Privacy is utterly lost.

Word will always spread regarding the character's whereabouts. Crowds will form outside inns where the character stays. Eventually, there will be nowhere in the world that the character can go without their fame preceding them.

If the target manages to escape the effects of fame, no creature in the multiverse will remember the character's period of notoriety, and the affected will concoct rationalizations for their behavior during the time of the spell's effect. Any prophesies or recorded evidence created as a result of the spell will disappear, remembered by no one.”

Obscurity

9th-level conjuration

Casting Time: 1 action

Range: Touch or self

Duration: Permanent

The effects of obscurity are permanent; it can only be removed with wish, dispel magic at 9th level, remove curse cast by a creature capable of casting 9th-level spells, or negated with fame.

The target of this spell gains expertise in Sleight of Hand, Stealth, and Deception, and they roll all these checks with advantage. However, all Intimidation, Performance, and Persuasion checks are made with disadvantage. This spell cancels out features requiring significant presence or force of personality – such as the Inspiring Leader feat. DM's discretion. Also, you can only receive the rewards you were promised by passing a DC 18 Persuasion check, as your guarantor will have trouble remembering who you are or hiring you in the first place.

You gain the following features: Sneak Attack (Rogue), advantage on initiative rolls, Hide in Plain Sight (Ranger) – without needing to cover yourself in detritus, and Nature’s Veil (Ranger). All spells gain the benefits of Subtle Spell Metamagic (Sorcerer). Targets of charm person and similar spells will no longer turn hostile once the effects wear off. They’re aware their minds were altered with magic, but they won’t be able to place the culprit.

Once again, THE FOLLOWING FLAVOR TEXT IS ADAPTED FROM “GHASTLY AFFAIR” BY DANIEL JAMES HANLEY:

“It becomes impossible for the recipient to achieve any form of glory or recognition. The character's family and friends still remember who they are, but other people will be unable to recall the character, or anything they have done. Even family and friends will be unable to remember the character having ever done anything significant. The character will be ignored and overlooked whenever possible. If they perform any great deeds, they will either be forgotten or ascribed to others.

Any records of the character having done anything notable will seem to disappear, and their name will be missing from any books or written materials that previously may have mentioned them.

It is rumored that the most powerful magicians of antiquity remain unknown due to their deliberate use of obscurity.”

If you enjoy gothic fiction, Victoriana, the French Aristocracy/Revolution, roleplay/storytelling-heavy games, or the chance to affect an outlandish accent, please check out Ghastly Affair!

#d&d 5e #d&d homebrew #5e homebrew #ghastly affair #daniel james hanley #conversion #5e spell #fame #obscurity #gothic horror

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whoneedsapublisher · 2 years ago

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Out of There in a Woljiffy

Whoops, forgot to crosspost this one. A fic for Wake up Challenger 2022, with the challenge being to write a crossover. In this case, a crossover between Love Live and Pathfinder: Wrath of the Righteous, a video game adaptation of the pen and paper module of the same name that I highly recommend.

Words: ~1400

Summary: Before becoming the commander of the fifth crusade, the hero who saved Kenabres meets a jailed tiefling in the basement of a tavern. This time, though, Woljif Jefto is nowhere to be found.

Also on Ao3

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

Nico was, all in all, not having a very good day.

It started off reasonable enough. She woke up in her crappy rented room at the inn. She stood up and looked in the mirror and did her daily affirmations that she was cute and talented, which didn’t take very long because it was pretty self evident. Everything from the end of her horns to the tip of her tail was grade-A adorable! She picked up her lute and went out to play on the streets of Kenabres and dodge rocks, both of which she was getting better at every day. Her singing voice, though, was tragically already perfect, and so didn’t meaningfully improve over time.

Things started going wrong around lunch, when her attempts to buy lunch were stymied by the lack of money to do so, and a decidedly unreasonable refusal by the stall vendor to trade it for a song. So maybe she’d… decided to enforce payment for her services. That wasn’t so bad, was it? She had performed for him, hadn’t she! She deserved at least one crummy sandwich!

The guards, unsurprisingly, didn’t see things her way. They rarely did, given that she was a tiefling. At least this time she’d arguably done something.

And so she found herself locked in a basement jail cell. When all broke loose on the city, she only knew about it by sound and the panic of the guards around her.

Maybe it was lucky after all. From what news she could pick up from guards talking, the market street had been completely destroyed, which was where she would have been for the festival. Still, a day on which you avoided instant death via incarceration wasn’t one that Nico figured was going to rank very high on her list of days when she looked back on her time in the city.

A time which was definitely going to come to an end soon, one way or another, because she got the distinct feeling that if she didn’t get the hell out of the city soon someone was going to kill her. Whether that would be the demons killing her for being a mortal or the paladins killing her for being a tiefling was a tossup.

Exactly how she as supposed to get out of the city when she was behind bars and the place was besieged by demons was something of a, uh, a work in progress. She was seriously considering lowering her standards enough to try seducing a guard when the human showed up.

Nico was not, she felt it necessary to stress, one of the Thieflings. Despite what the guards thought, not every tiefling in the city counted themselves part of that criminal order, or was a criminal at all. Nico prided herself on making an honest living with her music. Well, her music and doing shifts as a waitress. But that was just on days when the appreciation for the arts was at an ebb. A far too common occurrence, but certainly a temporary one. Anyway, she didn’t steal, and before today, she didn’t tend to get into barter disputes either.

But that didn’t mean she couldn’t spot a mark when she saw one.

Good lord, if this woman had wandered into a Thiefling base like that, they’d have swindled her out of that shiny looking sword before she even made it to the other side of the room. By the time she left she’d probably be naked and five thousand gold in debt.

She looked… well, lost wasn’t really the right word for it. Lost implied that she looked like she was trying to get somewhere and this wasn’t it. No, she looked like she wasn’t really headed anywhere, but wherever she’d ended up was pretty unexpected. She looked around the room with more interest than Nico had ever seen someone express towards a drab basement, and then her eyes met Nico’s. Thankfully, she seemed a lot more interested in Nico than the wall fixtures. If Nico had been evaluated as less interesting that this drab locale she might have had to quit showbusiness on the spot.

“Hi, I’m Honoka.” Honoka immediately introduced herself to one of the guards, sticking out her hand in a bizarrely friendly manner.

The guard, who was busy playing the same incredibly low skill poker game that the four of them had been engaged in for the last hour, gave her a wary look.

“Uh, hi,” he said, and then looked at his cards and grimaced before trying to look neutral again. Seriously, Honoka might be the biggest mark in the room, but Nico could have cleaned out those guards without even palming cards.

“Who’s that in the cell?” Honoka asked.

“Her? Some tiefling thief. Tried to steal food from a market stall.”

“I am not a thief!” Nico yelled, and the guard glared at her.

“Quiet in there, thief!” he snapped, and Nico frowned.

“And I’m not just some tiefling, thank you! I’m the Nico Yazawa!”

“The?” Honoka said curiously, fixing her ever inquisitive gaze on Nico again. “Are you famous?”

“Yes,” Nico said.

“No,” the guard said.

“Well, my fame is still growing, currently,” Nico admitted. “But mark my words, in a few years you won’t be able to get ten seconds into a conversation about musicians around these parts without my name coming up!”

The guard snorted derisively, but Honoka’s eyes were shining.

This… could be Nico’s ticket out of here. She just had to convince this naive girl to talk to someone in charge, maybe make a couple promises about fighting demons, and-

“Can you let her out? Pretty please?”

Wait, what?

The guard looked at Honoka skeptically. “Why?”

“Because she’s a great bard!” Honoka said. “She’ll definitely be helpful against the demons!”

“We’re not letting anyone out without our commander’s say-so,” another one of the guards said.

Nico glared at him, but Honoka just beamed.

“Oh, you mean Irabeth! Okay, let me go ask!”

The guards shared confused looks as Honoka sprinted off, jumping up the stairs two at a time, but decided that since she was gone, they could go back to being awful at poker. Less than five minutes later, though, Honoka was back, holding a piece of paper.

“Irabeth said it was okay!”

“What?” the guard who had sent Honoka away asked, baffled, and Honoka handed him the paper. He skimmed it, and then handed it to a third guard, who looked at it in disbelief.

“Well, it looks in order…” he said hesitantly.

The first guard sighed and stood up, walking over to Nico’s cell and taking his keys off his belt.

“Well, maybe it’s for the best,” he said. “Time like this, no reason to waste food on a criminal.”

He unlocked the cell door and pulled it open. “Get up. You’re remitted to this woman’s custody for now.”

As Nico stood up, he leaned in and spoke in a quieter voice, too low for Honoka to hear. “Do us all a favour and go jump on a cultist’s pike, demonspawn,” he hissed.

Nico smiled sweetly at him and “accidentally” stood on his foot as she walked out of the cell towards her saviour. “The baphomet cultists use glaives, not pikes, you ignorant cretin,” she muttered under her breath. “Maybe if you could tell the difference you’d be assigned to something more important than guarding a basement.”

The guard glared furiously at her, but didn’t do anything else. Ha. Too cowardly to try to hit her under the watchful eye of someone who had Irabeth’s ear.

“Well, then, Honoka, I guess you’re my manager for now!” she said.

“Manager?” Honoka said.

“Of course,” Nico said. “Any good musical act needs a manager, right? You handle that, and I’ll use my music to make you so powerful, your enemies won’t know what hit em!”

Nico could see it now. Honoka might be a mark, but if she’d lived this long, she could probably use that sword, right? Now that Nico was a little closer, she could see that it was shiny, but not unused. So Nico would sing some encouraging songs, keep her new companion going with magic, and use her to get out of this alive.

Boy, was Honoka lucky. Normally, she would have ended up demon chow, but now, she had a real chance of making it into history.

As Nico Yazawa’s sidekick.

#love live #pathfinder wrath of the righteous #pathfinder wotr

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agoodgoddamnshot · 4 years ago

Text

Lapis Lazuli - Geraskier [G]

[gif isn’t mine]

Warning(s): None

Word Count: 4,538

Originally posted to my AO3

Geralt suddenly realises how much time he and Jaskier have spent together, and all the places they've travelled around the Continent. He decides that it's time to give the bard something to show how much he appreciates all of it.

His bird flies to Oxenfurt for the winter. The Academy still likes to keep him around for the busier autumn semesters because students will actually listen to someone like Jaskier, and Jaskier likes going back because it’s paid accommodation to weather out the harsh winters in. And Oxenfurt is familiar.

Not that he hasn’t thought of going to wherever it is Geralt goes. And Geralt hasn’t not thought of extending an invitation. Vesemir has made it abundantly clear; if their guests can behave themselves throughout the winter, and won’t mind being put to work for the essential jobs, then his pups can invite whoever they like to Kaer Morhen. Lambert has brought people before; notably a Cat from the Dyn Marv Caravan wandering around the Continent. A Griffin has roosted within their keep before too. Both Aiden and Coën defer to Vesemir, acknowledging that they’re guests and he’s the head of the keep, as is the order of things, and the winters go by without anyone killing each other. And that’s all the elder wolf can hope for, it seems.

The invitation sits on his tongue every year. He knows Jaskier knows of the keep. He’s asked about it before, when his lute is propped on his knee and he looks at Geralt with loud wonderment at all of the things he can lure out of the Witcher about his kind and his guild. He can’t blame the little bird. If he was given the choice of a warm academy apartment, with set banquet meals throughout the day, and a steady pay to tide him by, or a crumbling keep perched on top of the northern mountains, still haunted by the ghosts of everything that’s happened before, he knows what he would pick. But Kaer Morhen is home, and he can see past every horrid thing that happened within those walls, because what’s left behind is his family, and he’ll go wherever they are.

They’re only ever parted for a winter. Even the winters that make themselves longer than they need to be, stretching into spring and keeping the frosts around, it’s only one season. It’s strange that he goes the rest of the three without him.

And this seems to be much worse. It’s quiet on the road; with only his own thoughts and Roach’s chuffs and nickers keeping him company. It used to be the way of things in a world before. Before Geralt found himself a songbird and it perched on his shoulder, following him around from village to town to city and never knowing when to go away.

Gods forbid if Jaskier knew that Geralt secretly misses his voice. He spent so much time of their first year knowing each other trying to get Jaskier to shut up. But it became a gentle hum in the background of their travels. Jaskier would ramble on about something or other while he strolled next to Roach, occasionally brushing his hand along the mare’s neck. And the mare learned to not kick out at Jaskier’s shins or turn and nip his fingers. Her master seemed to like him enough to keep him mostly intact. That, and a few secret sugar cubes and apples snuck into her feed from the bard seemed to win her over.

Spring means his songbird will fly back to him, and autumn means that he’ll fly away again. A secure income and a warm place to hunker down throughout a potentially harsh winter, Geralt can’t blame the lark at all for going to roost.

It’s just the familiar groan of loneliness left behind is awful, and he hates how it makes itself known at night, when he’s slipping into an inn’s bed and the empty space on the other side seem to stretch on for leagues. It’s cold and Geralt always wakes with his arm stretched across, reaching out for someone who isn’t there. And that’s when his chest tightens and he wishes he could cross the Continent within a matter of strides, just to get his little lark back with him.

A courier comes one morning. Nothing more than a lad barely into his adulthood, with spots still speckled on his face and a mop of thick curly hair almost shielding his eyes, who somehow manages to find him in a merchant town’s tavern. Geralt glances up from his breakfast, regarding the lad for a moment as he fumbles through a knapsack of letters and parcels. “Geralt of Rivia,” he says primly, holding out a letter. As soon as the letter is in his hand, the lad scurries away, and that seems to be the end of that.

Geralt thins his lips. Contracts very rarely come to him. His name may start to be travelling further and further into the Continent, but notices are usually left on boards within the village or town itself. Contacting him directly isn’t how it works. He’s never in one place for too long.

But the envelope in his hand is crisp, freshly printed card, and a maroon ink seal at the back tells him all he needs to know. Oxenfurt’s emblem is printed into the wax, and the card smells vaguely of old books and ink.

He thumbs the letter open, running his eyes over the elegant scrawl inside.

Meet me at the Three Crowns Inn for Beltane. Can’t wait to see you again. – Songbird

Geralt’s chest clenches. He can’t stand from his table and run out of the inn fast enough.

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He doesn’t know when he started calling Jaskier his little bird, but the bard certainly had no problems with it. If anything, he greatly encouraged it. Having someone as grumpy as Geralt dote on him seemed to be one of Jaskier’s favourite things. It’s a side of the Witcher that only he sees; when they’re curled in a bed together, or gathered around a campfire, and it’s just the two of them.

Jaskier has a pretty voice, and his songs are beautiful. Not that Geralt would ever tell him that. A preening smug Jaskier is borderline intolerable. He didn’t know why it tumbled out of his lips one night, when Jaskier dozed beside him and Geralt threaded his fingers through the man’s soft and freshly washed hair. But songbird and lark all seemed to fit. And Jaskier revelled in them.

Jaskier is also a magpie in some regards. A mischievous little thing that has a certain penchant for anything shiny and grand. He plucks vials of oils and lotions and soap bars from merchant stands and revels in how they smell, uncaring that the cost of them alone makes Geralt’s eyes water. He adorns his fingers in rings that catch the summer sunlight and glisten, and Geralt likes running his thumb over the gems and engravings in them when Jaskier links their fingers together. He likes gold and silver and gems and fragrant oils, and any time he lingers for a moment outside of a merchant’s stall, nose wrinkled in thought of whether or not he could spare the gold earned from playing in taverns on something, Geralt watches.

He buys rings because he can wear them, and any oils and lotions and soaps that somehow end up in his bag are brushed off as ways he can make his Witcher finally relax for once after a particularly taxing hunt. And the gems he leaves behind. Even though he’ll pick them up, watching how they glint in the midday sun, he’ll set them back and part the merchant with a small grateful smile.

A few of those gems have ended up in Geralt’s pocket. He doesn’t know what he would do with them, or how he would use them or even gift them to Jaskier, but his songbird liked them and didn’t seem keen to part with them. So they take up a permanent residence in one of the smaller pockets of Geralt’s saddlebag. They come from all sorts of places; Nazair and Toussaint, to Aedirn and Poviss. Anywhere he and Jaskier have wandered together, he takes them as small reminders. And in the seasons he goes without his bird, he has something to remind him of him at least.

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Getting to the Three Crowns will take him through a few kingdoms. If he keeps to the main roads, not lingering in any towns for longer than he needs to, he’ll make it to the inn before Jaskier. And he doesn’t think he could cope with having to sit in a tavern’s hall and wait for his little bird to fly to him.

Smaller merchant towns are kinder to him than the bigger cities. He bundles his cloak tighter around himself when he rides through the cities, keeping his eyes on the road ahead and not the badly hidden curious looks from passing people on the streets. The whispers soon follow, and inevitably, the word butcher will dust the shell of his ear. So he sets his heels against Roach’s side and continues on.

But the smaller towns are kinder. They’re quiet and people lap through them like gentle waves, flowing quicker in the day, but dissipating by night. Roach plods along, with Geralt slackening her reins and letting her stretch her neck out. It’s a quiet and still walk in through the town’s main street, and most of the shops are already beginning to board up their windows and draw their stands in for the night. An inn’s sigil hangs at the far end of the street, and Geralt aims Roach towards it.

Before he can let his shoulders slacken, his eyes fall on to a shop next to the inn. It looks like every other building surrounding it – red brick and ornately carved, with worn-paint signs hanging outside. The windows are still clear and its door is open, so he can presume that the merchant is still inside trading wears.

He blinks at the first recognisable word he manages to spot on the worn wooden sign.

Jewellers.

Geralt slows Roach to a stop. The mare huffs, pulling at her bit slightly. The inn and its stables are literally right there. He sets a gloved hand to her neck, scratching into her winter fur beginning to fluff her out. “Wait here,” he rumbles, hopping down from her and on to the cobbles below. He hitches her reins to a small post outside and starts to rustle through his saddlebags. Empty vials of potions he’ll need to brew again, purses of gold that he keeps away from his person just in case of brigands. He fishes out the gems. They’re tiny things, just enough to gather in the palm of his hand.

He pats Roach’s neck one last time. “I’ll only be a second.”

Roach huffs, but waits.

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He doesn’t know what it is, but all merchants tend to look the same. Regardless of whether they’re travelling the roads with him, they all have this glint in their eyes and glasses perched on the end of their nose, with finely kept clothes that reflect the wealth of their trade. And this merchant doesn’t look that much different.

The man inside blinks as soon as Geralt steps inside. “Witcher,” is the first word to bumble out of his mouth. A brief flash of panic blinks across his face before he tries to fight his way back to say something better than a profession as a greeting.

Geralt lifts his hand. “It’s alright,” he murmurs, looking around the shop. It’s unlike the kinds of stores Jaskier likes to drift in to. Wooden shelves along the walls stacked with all types of ornaments and glasswork. The storefront is a mixture of dark cherry wood and glass, showing off the expertly crafted necklaces and rings and bracelets he’s sure are worth every golden coin used to make them. The shop smells faintly of varnished and broiled glass and paint. It wrinkles his nose, but he steps closer to the counter.

The merchant adjusts his glasses. “What can I do for you, Master Witcher?”

Geralt holds out his hand, showing the gems gathered on his palm. “I was wondering if you could do anything with these?”

Even in the fading light of day, the orange strands of evening sunlight that stretch into the merchant’s shop, the gems glisten and gleam on his hand. The merchant gestures to them. May I? Plucking each of them up and examining the way the light catches them, the merchant adjusts his glasses again, moving them up and down his nose and squinting through the lens. “Ah, yes,” the merchant muses, “amethyst, amber, emerald, garnet. You must be very well travelled, Witcher. Some of these gems are hard to come by in these parts.”

Geralt hums. “I travel for work,” he explains simply. “I’ve been everywhere.”

The merchant sets the gems along his work surface, lining them up. Some are slightly bigger than others, but all polished and showing off their colours. The merchant muses, running his eyes over them. “What would you like me to do with them, Master Witcher?”

Geralt lifts a shoulder. “That’s up to you,” he says. “I don’t have any experience in jewellery or fineries.”

And he tries not to bristle at the way the merchant’s eyes drift over every part of him for a moment. Worn and scarred armour, dried blood flecking his skin. He doesn’t even seem like one of the merchant’s patrons.

The merchant’s lips thin. He hums and turns his eyes back on the gems. “I could make something beautiful of these gems, absolutely,” he considers. “But it would cost gold and time, Witcher. Do you have anywhere you need to be in the coming days?”

He’s already going to be early for his meeting. A few days of rest before doing the last trek towards the Three Crowns might do him some good. If he showed up to meet Jaskier like this, after so many seasons apart, he could imagine the bard instantly trying to shove him into a bath laden with oils and soaps. He can stomach to lose a few days to rest.

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The Three Crowns is their usual meeting point. Winter looms over the Continent, peering over the mountains to the west and already hinting at its arrival with chilling and biting winds that tumble down from the hills. The snow and frost keep away, thankfully. The last thing he needs is frozen roads. But they are somewhat flooded. He keeps to the main roads, laden with merchants selling the last of their wares before they can head home from the winter. And if he had any more gold left, he would buy some fruit or bread from them. But the last of his gold dwindles, just enough for a tavern room – something he’s sure Jaskier has already procured and readied for him.

His bones warm at the thought of being with his bird again. If Roach walks a bit quicker, with a noticeable spring in her step, it absolutely has nothing to do with the fact that Jaskier spoils her with more treats than hay and grains. And even she can appreciate having the bard around; also because it makes her companion happy.

The Three Crowns is nestled in the heart of some town straddling a crossing of roads. It sees its fair share of passing traders and huntsmen drifting in from the road only to be swept off again. It reminds him of Posada, and he can understand why Jaskier always insists on it being their meeting up place. Roach chuffs at the sight of it in the distance, almost breaking out into a gallop just to read the town’s wooden barriers.

Stableboys linger around the yard and don’t even blink twice at him setting some gold into their palms. He hops down from Roach and takes his bags off of her before she’s led into the stables around the back of the inn, pawing insistently at the ground to get somewhere warm and full of oats and hay.

The tavern is as crowded as it always is. A hum of noise and the smell of roasting venison assault his senses the moment he steps into the tavern. It’s familiar. This meets him every time he comes to greet Jaskier and begin their wanderings together. But it’s been longer than usual and he’s missed everything about it.

He hauls his saddlebags over his shoulders, stalking further into the tavern. All the tables are already occupied, farmers and merchants and passing huntsmen bowed over their dinners and knocking back tankards of ale and mead. Geralt’s eyes scan the room, looking for the familiar spark of colour that usually stands out from the rest.

And his ears twitch when he hears hurried footsteps approaching from his side. Through the maze of tables and people sitting at them, Geralt watches Jaskier almost trip over his own feet as he hurries towards him, a bright smile and glistening eyes already settled on his face. Geralt has just enough time to let his saddlebags drop to the ground by his side before he’s tackled into a hug. His arms hover in the air for a moment. The closeness Jaskier insists on having with him isn’t something he was ever used to. But he’s warming to it.

As his arms slowly coil around and gather his bard to him, Geralt buries his nose into the hollow of Jaskier’s neck. His lungs fill with the scent of the other man. Sea salt that he likes to scrub and soften his skin with, and the faint lilts of desert roses and vanilla coats the roof of his mouth and Geralt is loath to let the bard go. Jaskier seems to be in a similar position. His arms are curled around Geralt’s shoulders and neck, locked and unwilling to let him go just yet.

The rest of it fades away. The tavern, those gathered within it and all of their conversations melding into one lapping wave of noise. Geralt’s lungs can fill again as he breathes Jaskier in, and a deep rumble purrs out of his chest at the feeling of the bard’s hands settling on to his back, slowly rubbing at the plains of muscle there.

He isn’t sure how long he spends holding on to Jaskier, but eventually the bard tries to slip away. Geralt’s arms tighten. A light breathless laugh shakes through Jaskier. “Come on,” he murmurs, setting his hands on to Geralt’s elbows, “I’ve got us a room.”

He’s slow to let go of the little bird. Even then, he only allows a small sliver of space between them. Jaskier catches one of his hands, and even through the thin leather glove, he can feel the warmth of the bard’s skin blooming through his.

As soon as he has gathered his bags again, Jaskier leads him away, from the prying curious eyes of the other patrons nearby. He’s lured upstairs, until the conversations below become nothing more than a distant hum and Geralt feels like he can think again.

Just as he imagined, Jaskier already has the room ready. The hearth within the wall crackles and spits with a freshly fed fire and candles dotted around, perched on dressers and cabinets, offer a warm glow to the room. With fresh linen sheets and furs lining the foot of their bed, his bones ache at the thought of going to sleep.

A bath has already been brought up and filled, and the air is scented with the musk of desert rose and something sweet laced underneath it.

As soon as he pulls Geralt inside, Jaskier clicks the door shut behind them. He squeezes Geralt’s hand, but doesn’t move to pull away. “Now,” he says primly, “I’m sure you have stories to tell me, darling, but I insist on bathing you first. The road hasn’t been kind to you.”

Because you haven’t been on it with me. The words lodge in his throat and Geralt struggles to keep them behind a shut jaw.

With his saddlebags put to the side, Jaskier’s nimble fingers set on the many belts and buckles of his armour. It’s different; having someone else do it. He remembers the first time where he stood frozen, wondering why his newest travelling companion insisted on removing armour Geralt has been wearing for years. He can do it himself. But now he’s content to let Jaskier strip what he can off of him, leaving him in a worn linen shirt and breeches. He toes off his boots, leaving them alongside the pile of armour that gathers beside his bags. He’ll clean it in the morning, before they go, but as Jaskier drifts over to the bath, already rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, Geralt pauses.

Jaskier moves around the room so seamlessly, as he is with most things. He gathers what he needs to bathe Geralt; lotions and oils for his aching muscles, and a comb to try and wrangle his hair back into something tame.

The bard eventually catches his eye. “Are you going to stand there all night,” he laughs breathlessly, setting a hand on to his hip, “or are you coming over?”

Geralt blinks. His fingers flex by his side, not entirely sure what he should try and do now. He glances over to his saddlebags, piled up beside a nearby dresser. Geralt grunts, holding up his hand. Jaskier cocks his head, but watches the Witcher regardless.

He roots through his bag, looking for a soft felt bag kept in one of the more secure pockets inside. He fishes it out, making sure that the gift is still intact. He tried to keep it safe. He might have even lost hours of sleep because he worried about brigands and highwaymen storming him on the road and taking it.

But now, he somehow manages to force his feet to take him over to Jaskier. The bard looks at him puzzled, his gaze drifting down to the small bag caught in Geralt’s hand.

There’s a moment between them where nothing is said. And Jaskier tilts his head, eyes searching for Geralt’s as the Witcher tries to gather what to say. Because how does he even go about presenting something like this? Geralt clears his throat. Gods, words really aren’t his strong suit. He stretches out his hand, handing the bag over to Jaskier. When the bard looks to him again, lifting an eyebrow, Geralt rubs the back of his neck. “It’s, uh...It’s for you.”

Jaskier regards him for a moment, slowly letting his deft fingers unlace the drawstring and pull the ties apart. A lot of gold and time made what Jaskier is fishing out of the bag, and Geralt’s stomach churns. Gods alive, what if he doesn’t like it?

Jaskier blinks when he lifts his gift out. A necklace of gems, expertly melded together like petals of a flower. Each gem is its own petal, but together, they represent something more. Their journey together, the wanderings all over the Continent and the time spent together. The gems glint in Jaskier’s eyes, bright crystal colours joining the ocean blue Geralt likes losing himself in. The chain is something lithe and simple, small interlinking locks of silver that don’t distract from the flower hanging from it.

Jaskier rubs his thumb over each gem, and the thin and lithe metalwork that binds them all together. His lips part, something resting on the tip of his tongue, about to be spoken, but Jaskier all but gapes. “This...” he stammers, glancing over to Geralt. “Gods, Geralt, how much did this cost, I—it’s beautiful.”

Geralt can feel a flush warming his cheeks. “You, um,” he rasps, clearing his throat again. “You liked the jewels. In the markets we visited. But you never bought them, and I, I don’t know, I guessed that I would get them for you but, uh, I didn’t know how to present them.”

He nods to one of the gems. “The, uh, the lapis is from Toussaint,” he manages to get out, because if he talks about the gems and focuses on the gems and the gems alone, he won’t have to look at Jaskier staring at him. The lapis was the most expensive, but it’s the most beautiful. “The topaz is from that visiting spice market in Redania.” All things that caught Jaskier’s eye, but he had to leave behind. And now it’s here, for him, in a way that he could wear.

Geralt manages to tear his eyes away from the necklace, glancing up and catching the bard’s gaze. Jaskier stares at him, mouth and eyes wide, and for a terrifying moment, he doesn’t say anything. Geralt’s throat bobs. Maybe this is too much. Maybe he doesn’t like it. He doesn’t even mourn the loss of the gold spent on it, but the way he could potentially have soured things between them.

And then Jaskier’s moving. Geralt has just enough awareness to notice heat bloom on the side of his face before Jaskier leans forward, catching his lips in a soft and languid kiss. He stands stock-still for a moment before he melts into it, reaching up to brush the backs of his knuckles along Jaskier’s cheek. His own is nestled into the bard’s hand, his thumb brushing along his cheekbone in something so soft and undeserving of him and his life that he struggles not to shrug it away. Jaskier has always been so kind and soft to him, with gentle hands and lulling words.

Jaskier breaks their kiss when air thins, but he doesn’t go too far away. He sets their foreheads together; the ends of their noses brushing and a shared breath mingling between them. Geralt watches a bright and outrageously happy smile spread across the bard’s lips. “This,” he laughs breathlessly, “gods alive, Geralt, this is beautiful. Thank you. I, gods, how did you even think of something like this?”

He honestly doesn’t know. Jaskier is a worryingly big part of his life now and he needed it immortalised somehow. If, if, the bard didn’t come adventuring with him out on the road anymore, at least there is a reminder of all the places they did go together.

Jaskier lures him into another long and languid kiss. His lips are soft and it’s a struggle to break apart from them. Eventually, one of Jaskier’s hands settles on the centre of his chest. His smile hasn’t even budged. “Thank you,” he murmurs.

Geralt hums. It’s taxing, trying to muster words and make some effort to say them. And what could tumble out of his mouth may not be the way he wants them to come out. So he nudges his forehead into Jaskier’s, enough of a physical touch to widen the bard’s smile.

He doesn’t want to pull away. He has Jaskier back now, and he’ll bundle the bard off to Kaer Morhen with him for the winter, and spend the following seasons after that traversing the path with him. And the thought of all of that settles into the core of his chest and blooms warmth through him; undoing all the stresses of the past seasons, unwinding tension better than any bath or sleep ever could.

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