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wallgirl · 4 years ago

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The Little Nereid Part two

2200 words, part two of a five six part fanfiction

Poseidon x OC

Dynamene, youngest of the 50 Nereids, has lived most of her adolescence as a servant alongside her sisters at Poseidon’s palace. But with her coming-of-age birthday and other developments, what she initially thought was just admiration of her master blossoms into something stronger and more passionate… and painful.

Categories: Romance, angst, unrequited love, coming-of-age, earn-your-happy-ending; no NSFW content

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Once she had collected herself and spent enough time admiring the bracelet on her own, Dynamene rose from the bed with a sigh and went to her door. No doubt her family would be wondering what her running was about.

Upon opening it, several of her sisters nearly fell into the room.

“Why-! What are you all doing here?” Dynamene gasped, quickly stepping out of the way.

“We heard you received your gift, and we didn’t want to disturb you, but we were just so curious…” One of the nymphs tweedled her fingers.

“Ah, yes! My birthday present from Lord Poseidon!” Dynamene beamed and held her bracelet-clad hand up to the light, allowing her sisters a good look at it. They crowded around in awe, cooing with admiration.

“Dynamene! Are you alright? Ianeira said you came running like a madwoman from Lord Poseidon’s quarters…” Actaea halted with relief at the sight of Dynamene showing off her new bracelet. “Oh, I get it now. So he did give you your gift himself, did he?” She gave Dynamene a rather knowing grin.

Dynamene blushed. “I mean… Yes, he did. I was very surprised.” She began to turn the beads of the bracelet over in thought. “I’m very happy with it. It’s even mother-of-pearl.”

“So it is!” Actaea stepped closer to get a better look. “It goes so well with the pins I gave you. You look absolutely spoiled now.”

Dynamene giggled. “I do have to say that I’m very happy with the presents I’ve received thus far.”

“Then you’re going to be even more delighted here in a moment,” another sister called from the far end of the hall. Slender Callianassa stood holding her treasured lyre in both hands. “Why don’t you all come down to the sitting room here? I’ll play you anything you’d like, Dynamene.”

The sisters crowded together down to the large sitting area, one of over a dozen spread out throughout the palace. Dynamene took a place of honor, draped on the side of the couch closest to where Callianassa perched on a gilded chair. “What would you like to hear, Dyna?” Callianassa asked, lightly strumming the instruments strings.

“Play me something by Erik Satie,” Dynamene said thoughtfully. Her thoughts continued to drift back to that moment in Poseidon’s quarters, where she had stood face-to-face with him.

“Oh, Erik Satie! That’s furniture music,” Thoe scoffed from where she had begun brushing Actaea’s hair.

“You’re so old-fashioned, Thoe,” murmured Callianassa. “Let’s see… I’ll start with the Gymnopedies, Dyna.” She began to softly pluck at the lyre.

Dynamene gave a sigh of contentment and allowed herself to close her eyes. It really had been such a wonderful day thus far. She felt so lucky and at peace to be here, surrounded by her loving sisters, enjoying a calm afternoon on her birthday. The golden sunlight washing in through the open windows caressed her skin with warmth. The gentle, bittersweet melody began to envelop her, and she found herself picturing Poseidon’s unwavering grey gaze. The tender somberness of the song brought to mind the emptiness in his eyes. How was it that someone so beautiful, so mesmerizing, felt so completely cold and void?

And yet a powerful aura emitted from him wherever he went. He was heartless, but he was also smart and strong. What he lacked in sentiment he made up for ten-fold as a god with his vast knowledge of the ocean and his subjects.

The ocean, his domain… How fitting for a man as unfathomable as he.

The sound of familiar footsteps echoing along a distant hall brought a stop to Callianassa’s playing, and Dynamene looked up. The rest of the Nereids halted whatever they were doing and stood; those footsteps could only belong to one person. Dynamene quickly got to her feet as well, straightening her peplos with quick hands. She felt that strange tingle returning to her veins, creeping from her wrists up her spine.

Lord Poseidon entered the room, and the fifty sisters immediately dropped to a quick curtsy. As the eldest, Ianeira stood at the head of the group, ready to engage their master.

He said nothing, as he was typically wont to do, for a moment, taking in the room. “We will be receiving Lady Hera here tomorrow afternoon.”

Several of the sisters tilted their heads or tapped their chins in reaction to the news. Lady Hera didn’t visit that often, but she was one of the few Olympians to make it a point to see her brother from time to time. Unfortunately, Lord Poseidon and Lady Hera didn’t often see eye-to-eye, and her visits often ended with him annoyed and her in a rage.

“I will be meeting with her in my quarters. There is no need to prepare the guest suite,” he finished.

That part wasn’t unusual. Poseidon did his best to keep his interactions with his family private affairs, usually entertaining them in his sitting room in his private quarters. The sisters exhaled silently in relief. Hera was always polite to them when she visited, but she had incredibly high standards of cleanliness, not unlike her brother. Preparing a suite for her was always nerve-wracking.

“Of course, my lord,” Ianeira replied. “We will see to it that the palace is fit to receive her.”

His instructions finished, Poseidon turned and left as abruptly as he had arrived. Dynamene stared after his vanishing figure, her hand lingering on the bracelet.

“We have our instructions,” Ianeira said, turning to the others. “We’ll start the preparations after lunch.”

With that, most of the sisters returned to their leisurely activities, some breaking off to have lunch early. Callianassa took her lyre up once more, and Dynamene returned to her perch on the couch. But her mind was now racing with the news of Hera’s visit. Hera usually came to Poseidon’s palace with one goal in mind…

Convincing him to marry.

It was just in her nature. As the goddess of matrimony, she worked hard to pair up her relatives and see them happily settled. A loner like Poseidon who refused to take a partner irked her to no end. Dynamene wasn’t entirely sure what her end goal was in seeing Poseidon married, but that mystery was best left to the Olympians who knew her well. Perhaps she considered Poseidon’s refusal to marry a personal affront to her own nature as the goddess of marriage. No matter her persistence, however, Poseidon would never bend. That was why their visits always ended in both parties with a sour mood. Dynamene often wondered why he bothered to entertain her coming in the first place, but then again, Poseidon was a pragmatist in these matters. He probably allowed her to make her arguments simply to keep the peace between him and her – and by extension, her husband Zeus.

Not that Hera herself was someone to trifle with on any accounts. One disastrous visit 700 years ago had ended with Hera punching a column that upheld Poseidon’s personal balcony, completely levelling it in the process. It had taken forty skilled workmen seven days, working day and night, to restore it to its prior condition. Hera was the most feared goddess of the Greek pantheon, sheerly on account of her wrath. Not to say that Poseidon could not take her in a fight; he mostly certainly could, and he would win. But Hera’s destructive fury wouldn’t leave him unscathed, if things came to blows.

Dynamene swallowed and forced herself to come back to her senses. There was no point in letting her fears run away from her. Since that incident so long ago, Hera had been largely successful in reining in her violence around her brother and his palace. Nowadays, when she visited, only harsh words were exchanged.

And yet, Dynamene found herself dreading Hera’s arrival. Was it because of Hera herself?

Or was it because of the topic that would no doubt be broached yet again?

“Alright, sisters,” Ianeira called, clapping her hands. “Lunch is ready for all. We’ll begin work after.”

With a sigh, Dynamene pulled herself from the couch. There was no use worrying now.

Several hours later, with the great entrance hall freshly scrubbed and polished, and the special velvet carpets laid out, the Nereids’ work was done for the day. Dynamene slipped out onto one of the smaller balconies overlooking the ocean for a breath of fresh air. She inhaled the scent of the seawater with relish; as a sea nymph, it would always be her favorite scent. The door softly opened and closed behind her, and Actaea stepped forward in the moonlight to join her.

“Finally, everything pristine and in its place,” her older sister sighed, gazing out at the ocean. “I’m sorry the latter half of your birthday was so dull.”

“No, it’s fine,” Dynamene smiled. “I got to spend plenty of time with all of you, and several nice presents to boot. I’d say it was a pretty fine birthday.”

“Always the optimist,” Actaea tousled her hair fondly. “Well, I’m glad you enjoyed it. You won’t have another for the next century!” She sighed, voice full of reminiscence. “I cannot believe you are a woman now. It seems not long ago, when we first arrived here, you were hiding behind our skirts and shrinking behind furniture. And now look at you; a smart, well-read, considerate young lady.”

“I still don’t feel that… grown up,” Dynamene confessed, looking down at her hands. “I still look so childish. And I’m still so clumsy.”

“Coming-of-age is just the line drawn by the world, the official cut-off point between child and adult. The task of growing up is a giant blur; not one you can compartmentalize. Give it time, and you’ll feel grown-up soon enough.” Actaea smiled kindly.

Dynamene took a deep breath, deciding to share what was weighing on her mind. “Truth be told, I am… worried about Hera’s visit tomorrow.”

“Oh, everyone is worried about that,” Actaea laughed. “But she’s been well-behaved these past several centuries, no? I don’t think we have much to fret about.”

“Well, yes, but… It’s not just Hera’s temper. I mean… She always comes to talk to Lord Poseidon about one thing,” Dynamene continued lowly, twisting her hands.

Actaea looked mystified for a moment, then her eyes widened lightly as it dawned on her what Dynamene was referring to.

“If Poseidon marries, we’ll have a lady-of-the-house,” Dynamene ventured. “And I suppose I’m just worried about what that would mean for us.” She turned her bracelet over on her wrist. Its iridescent surface caught the moonlight in haunting cool hues.

Actaea was quiet for several moments. “Dynamene, you know as well as I do that Poseidon will never take a bride,” she said softly.

Dynamene looked up at her older sister’s face. There was something she couldn’t place in her sister’s eyes. She slowly turned her face back to the ocean, gripping the balustrade tightly. “You’re right,” she replied. “It’s not something we should worry about.” A tight pricking sensation came to her chest.

Actaea squeezed her shoulder comfortingly. “We should head to bed now, little sister. We’ll want our energy for whatever Hera brings our way tomorrow.” She grinned dryly before going back inside, leaving Dynamene alone again with her thoughts.

Dynamene gave the dark ocean with its frothy foam one last longing glance. Her thoughts had been in a dizzy whirlwind all day long, it seemed. She desperately wished that she could go down for a swim, just to clear her head…

The more she considered it, the better it sounded. The idea was tantalizingly delicious in the face of the strange weight in her heart. With quick, quiet footsteps, she rushed through the dark palace and down those 150 steps to the shore. She took a moment to take in the vast ocean again, with its white foam crests and the soothing rush of its waves. Stripping off her peplos and chiton, she folded them and placed them atop a nearby rock, making sure the pins gifted to her by Actaea were wrapped well within. Dynamene looked down at her wrist, momentarily debating taking off the bracelet as well, but couldn’t bring herself to remove it. Surely, as mother-of-pearl, it would be just fine in the seawater, wouldn’t it?

With eager steps, she waded into the cold ocean water, allowing the spray of the waves to pelt her skin in its soothing rhythm. She closed her eyes, forcing herself to concentrate. Her older sisters were much more skilled in joining themselves to the water, but she still needed more time to focus her energy. Before long, her body began to slip away in the ocean, melting into foam. She gave a sigh of contentment. Although they might spend the majority of their lives in humanoid form on land, the Nereids were really most at home in the sea, their source of life and spirit. The dark, powerful waters cradled her fluid form, not unlike the weight of that presence she cherished back on land.

With her body now joined to the water, her essence little more than a current, she slipped deep into the darkness and allowed her thoughts to melt away.

---

Author’s notes: A new sister added to the bunch. The Nereids asides from Dynamene are:

Actaea – caring sister

Callianassa – musically inclined sister

Eione – tomboy sister

Thoe – rude sister

Ianeira – oldest sister

I did my best to pick names for them that are each unique, to help differentiate them. These are all names of Nereids mentioned in real Greek mythology, but the resemblance largely stops there.

Now we’re starting to bite into the meat of the story; the main conflict. You know, Poseidon is a really static character to have as a love interest, but I have plans to flesh him out a little bit more in the next parts, so it doesn’t seem like Dynamene’s in love with a freaking statue (though with the way he acts most of the time, she might as well be)

What is the time period this fic takes place in, you ask? no one asked that

Well, it’s kind of an anachronism-stew situation. If we try to put a time on when Poseidon rose to power as king of the oceans, we might be able to slap the date on that as 1000 BC, roughly around when the Greek Pantheon as we know them started to be widely worshipped. Assuming that the Nereids came to serve Poseidon around the same time period, and that it’s been 1000 years since, that puts us around the year 0. However, Erik Satie composed the Gymnopedies in the late 1800s. So who knows? I’ve given up on making it make sense

#record of ragnarok #record of ragnarok poseidon #poseidon #poseidon x oc #fanfiction

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hysterialevi · 4 years ago

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Eitr | Chapter 6

Fanfic summary: In an alternate universe where the Raven Clan is wiped out, Sigurd ends up being rescued by the son of a Saxon ealdorman, and is tasked with being the boy’s new bodyguard. Upon meeting the boy’s father however, Sigurd soon realizes that the ealdorman is responsible for his clan’s destruction, and secretly plans for revenge while hiding behind the guise of a Norse pagan turned Christian.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male OC

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter | Next chapter

ONE WEEK LATER

FORANGAL CASTLE, THE COURTYARD

Swinging the wooden blade with a firm grip, Sigurd sent Edric stumbling backwards as the other man lost hold of his sword and collapsed to the ground, bringing their fight to a close.

At the moment, they were engaging in a friendly spar in the middle of the courtyard and spending the morning away from their noble duties, hoping to catch a minute of peace.

Things had calmed down somewhat ever since Sigurd first arrived at Forangal, and most of the people seemed to have finally accepted that their new friend wasn’t going anywhere soon, but Edric feared tensions would only rise again with the upcoming visit of one of the local thegns.

Due to the surprising increase of Dane activity in Wedenscire recently, Ealdorman Aegenwulf had called upon one of his old friends -- a man by the name of Raedan -- and summoned him to the castle for an official meeting.

Apparently, Raedan was one of the strongest thegns in the shire -- in addition to being one of the most respected -- and held quite a reputation for battling his fair share of vikings. He resided in a peaceful corner of England’s countryside nowadays with his wife and two children, but his sword was never out of arm’s reach.

The man sounded like a warrior just based on what Edric had told Sigurd so far. He may have been an Anglo-Saxon at heart, but it was clear that he didn’t share the diplomatic methods of his fellow thegns.

He often favored taking the more aggressive approach when it came to confronting vikings, and considering how much this war was taking a turn for the worse, Sigurd only assumed that Aegenwulf had called for his aid out of sheer desperation.

Was there another clan he wished to wipe out? Did he plan to carry out a second assault? Or was there something else brewing beneath the surface, waiting to erupt? He supposed only time would tell.

“Ah...!” Edric panted, worn out from the fight. “You beat me again! I knew Norse warriors were strong, but... my goodness. You fight with the wrath of God Himself...!”

Sigurd smirked, resting a hand on the hilt of his sword. “You do yourself a disservice, Edric. For a man of your age, you are not so gentle either.”

The nobleman chuckled. “You are kind, but it’s evident to me that I must polish some of my skills. The trainers we have here in Forangal -- they’ve taught me nothing of true battle. Most of them treat me like a doll. They fear that I’ll break if they hit me too hard.”

“Then they are also doing you a disservice. Real war will not coddle you. They are only setting you up for defeat.”

Edric nodded in agreement. “I suppose they are, aren’t they? Or perhaps they’re just afraid of what my father will do if they whack me over the head too firmly. I know plenty of them have received an earful from other lords whose sons ran crying to them when they ended up with a black eye. Well, fortunately for me, I have you here now. Maybe you can change things.”

Sigurd reached a hand out. “I think I already have. Unless, of course, your bishop is always this irate.”

The young man sighed deeply, allowing his friend to pull him up. “Hundwerth still hasn’t gotten over it, has he? I swear, you’d think the Devil himself pissed in his ale with how he constantly behaves. I hope he hasn’t given you too much trouble.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Sigurd replied. “I have dealt with many other Saxons like him before. I am no stranger to his type.”

“No, I imagine you aren’t. Still, I wish he’d treat you with more civility. You have yet to give us any reason to distrust you, and frankly, Hundwerth is only making things worse in the castle with his incessant arguing. But, I digress...”

Patting his clothes clean of any dirt, Edric retrieved his fallen sword and neatly placed it back on the rack, eager to have a rest.

“Thank you for training with me today, Sigurd. I know it’s not technically your decision whether or not you get to spend time with me, but I am still grateful for your company. I realize this past week has been difficult for you.”

The viking smiled warmly. “It’s my pleasure. Out of all the people in Forangal, you and your siblings have been the most hospitable. It’s a great relief to have you around.”

Edric beamed at the compliment. “I’m glad to hear it. Though, I fear things will only get more difficult from now on, what with the upcoming arrival of Thegn Raedan.”

Sigurd crossed his arms. “Remind me, when is he coming?”

“If things go according to plan, he and his family should be here by tomorrow morning. They were supposed to be here today, but from what I understand, they were held up by some... ‘complications.’ Details are vague, but it’s pretty clear that Danes were involved.”

“What makes you say that?”

Edric took on a more serious tone. “Keep this between us, but I overheard Raedan’s messenger say that they spotted a group of Danes lurking in the woods north of Agenbury. They didn’t attack anyone, but their presence was enough for Raedan to delay the journey for one night. It doesn’t sound like anything urgent -- yet -- but I’d be lying if I said the news didn’t have me on edge.”

Sigurd paused for a moment. “Agenbury? That’s just outside of Forangal. Is it normal for Danes to be so close?”

“Apart from you? No. Sometimes, we’ll get the occasional straggler wandering about these parts, but it’s rare to see an entire pack of them traveling together like that. And unlike your situation, I didn’t get the impression that these Danes were here by accident. It makes me wonder what they’re really doing here.”

The viking furrowed his brow on thought. “I agree, that does sound odd.”

Edric shrugged in a casual manner. “Well, if we do end up having any trouble with them, perhaps you could try to smooth things over. I realize that not all Danes are bound by camaraderie as some Saxons would believe, but still, it’d be a better chance than one of our people approaching them.”

Sigurd wasn’t so sure. “Hmm. Possibly. Or... it could just make things even worse.”

“How do you mean?”

“Many Danes have a mutual hatred for your people,” Sigurd explained. “They would treat you with the same animosity that Hundwerth has treated me. If they see a Norse such as myself defending you, they might see it as betrayal.”

Edric nodded in understanding. “Ah. I see. I suppose that’s to be expected. Danes have a strong sense of loyalty, do they not?”

The Norse grinned at the understatement. “Oh, yes. We do, indeed. Especially among our clans. There is nothing we wouldn’t do for our own people, and that gives us strength.”

“What about your clan?” Edric asked, bringing the other man to a halt. “I know you said you travel alone nowadays, but... you must’ve had one before, right? What happened to them? Why did you leave?”

Sigurd hesitated for a second, trying not to dwell on the grief that still racked his heart.

“I... didn’t leave.” He clarified, his voice much softer now. “They were killed. All of them. Including my brother. It’s possible that some could have survived, but if they did... I’ve yet to find them. The rest of us have simply... scattered to the winds.”

Edric picked up on the man’s pain, suddenly feeling the urge to console him.

“...I’m sorry.” He said, resting a hand on Sigurd’s arm. “It seems that the cruelties of this war know no boundaries. I only hope that, one day, we may see the sun rise in the morning without having to fear whether or not we’ll see it set.”

The Norseman shared his sentiment. “As do I. Perhaps then we will finally know true peace.”

Trailing off into silence, Sigurd placed his sword down and stared blankly into the distance, mindlessly gravitating towards Edric’s comforting gaze.

He couldn’t quite place it, but there was something... new in the nobleman’s eyes; a subtle glint of fondness. He seemed to be drawn to his viking counterpart and looked at him in a manner similar to the way Randvi once did, and if Sigurd didn’t know any better, he would’ve said that Edric was... infatuated with him.

But... no. He had to be mistaken. Sigurd knew how much stricter the Saxons were when it came to men fancying other men, and even though Edric had butted heads with Hundwerth in the past, it was still quite clear that he lived his life according to God’s word. There was no way he would’ve allowed himself to develop such feelings.

Though, despite his reluctance to admit it, Sigurd couldn’t hide the fact that a part of him shared Edric’s affection. The nobleman was rather handsome in the viking’s opinion, and with every day he spent accompanying the young lord around the castle, he found it harder to deny how he truly felt.

But even then, Sigurd was aware that he had to control his thoughts. He was nothing more than a servant to Aegenwulf and his family, and it was not his place to engage in such a relationship with one of his masters. He had just started to gain the ealdorman’s trust after days of keeping his head down, and he did not wish to besmirch himself now.

“I, um...” Sigurd said awkwardly, clearing his throat, “I think we should... return to our duties.”

Edric snapped back to reality and swiftly pulled his hand away, suddenly wondering if he had overstepped his boundaries.

“Oh, right...!” He blurted out sheepishly. “Of course. Forgive me.”

The young man turned away from Sigurd, knotting his hands together in embarrassment.

“Erm, p-perhaps we could retire to the kitchen for now? I hear that Nelda’s in the process of making a fresh batch of soul cakes. You should try one. I think you’d like them. They’re quite good at this--”

“--Lone Wolf!”

Bringing their conversation to a halt, both Sigurd and Edric turned to the side when a third voice abruptly barged into the scene, shattering the calm nature of the courtyard with their gruff bellowing.

“...Algar.” Sigurd said lowly, glaring at their guest. “What do you want?”

The housecarl dismissed the viking’s question and approached Edric, throwing a nonchalant smirk at him.

“You ought to teach your new pet some manners, my lord. He doesn’t learn his place soon enough, he’s bound to get hurt.”

Edric crossed his arms, instantly switching to a more assertive temperament. “Sigurd is not some dog to be led around on a leash, Algar. He is a man, just like you and me. And I expect him to be treated as such. Now, I believe he asked you a question.”

Algar chuckled at the young man’s defiance and brought his attention back to Sigurd, pointing a finger at him.

“You. Come with me. The ealdorman wants to see you.”

“What for?”

Algar shrugged. “Does it matter? Just come along.”

Sigurd didn’t budge just yet. “Forgive me if I’m somewhat hesitant. I only want to make sure I’m not walking into a potential execution like the last time you dragged me around the castle.”

Edric joined in. “I would also like to know the reason. Is everything alright with my father?”

The housecarl sighed, resting a foot on a nearby stump as he spoke. “There’s no need to worry your pretty little face, young lord. Ealdorman Aegenwulf merely has concerns about the Dane activity in Wedenscire, and wants to know if your bodyguard here is connected to it.”

The nobleman glanced at Sigurd. “...Are you suggesting he’s betrayed us?”

Algar shook his head. “In order for one to be a traitor, one must first be a friend. I don’t think Sigurd can exactly call himself that yet. Do you?”

Sigurd stepped between Algar and Edric, tired of the housecarl’s games.

“Enough running around in circles. If you have questions to ask of me, ask. I have nothing to hide.”

The other man smiled darkly. “...You sure about that, Lone Wolf? I suppose we’ll see soon enough, won’t we? Well then, right this way.”

Removing his foot from the stump, Algar promptly turned on his heel and began making his way out of the courtyard, beckoning Sigurd to follow him with a simple wave. Before the viking could leave however, Edric quickly grabbed the man’s arm and held him back for a moment, whispering a few words of caution in his ear.

“...Be careful, Sigurd. I don’t like where this is going.”

The older man nodded. “Have no fear, my lord. I won’t let my guard down.”

“Good. Don’t. I’d like for you to return to me in one piece.”

“I’ll be alright, Edric. Do not worry about me.”

A light laugh escaped the Saxon’s lips. “A task much easier said than done, I’m afraid. But I suppose it’s out of my hands now. If my father has summoned you, it’s best not to keep him waiting. Go on. I’ll see you afterwards.”

Deciding to let it go for now, Edric released his friend -- albeit somewhat reluctantly -- and allowed the Norse to follow in Algar’s footsteps, leaving him alone in the courtyard.

He didn’t know if the housecarl’s intentions were sincere, or if there was some sort of ulterior motive lurking in the background, but regardless of whatever the case was, Edric had to admit that he felt uncomfortable leaving Sigurd alone with him.

The man was a snake. Everyone knew it. Despite his gargantuan size, Algar often clung to the shadows like a thief and slithered his way around words, twisting people’s minds as if they were nothing more than toys for him to play with. He molded people with their own fear, and broke them to the point of no return.

He was technically bound to Aegenwulf’s command, but Edric had no doubts he would harm Sigurd if he felt it necessary. Algar seemed to operate based on his own code, and that put the nobleman on edge.

Letting out a sigh, Edric returned to his duties and pushed his thoughts away for the moment, deciding to carry on with his morning. Even though he was concerned about Sigurd’s well-being, he knew it was no longer within his control to determined what happened to him. That man’s fate was in Aegenwulf’s hands now, and Edric would just have to hope for the best.

~~~~~~~~~~

A WHILE LATER

ALGAR’S CHAMBERS

Stepping into the dimly-lit room, Sigurd felt a sense of alarm settling into his chest as he followed Algar into his quarters, flicking his eyes around in nervousness.

Contrary to what he expected, Aegenwulf was nowhere to be seen. There were no signs that the ealdorman had been there recently, and just based on the housecarl’s laid-back demeanor, Sigurd assumed he wouldn’t be showing up anytime soon.

He glanced around the room and placed his hands on his hips, shrugging at Algar.

“Where’s the ealdorman?” Sigurd asked in an accusatory tone. “I thought you said he wanted to see me.”

The other man scoffed, shutting the door behind them. “Aegenwulf is irrelevant to this conversation. This... is between you and me.”

“...So you lied.”

Algar strode over to his end table and grabbed the pitcher that sat on its surface, pouring himself a glass of wine.

“I did only what was necessary. I knew Edric would never free you into my grasp if he was aware we’d be alone.”

The Saxon turned to face Sigurd, taking a sip from his goblet. “It seems the young lord has grown fond of you. I have to admit, that’s an outcome even I wasn’t expecting.”

Sigurd leaned against a wall, crossing his arms. “You didn’t expect me to survive Ravensthorpe either.”

Algar grinned. “True enough. I suppose you’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

The viking grew impatient. “What is this about, Algar? Why have you brought me here?”

The housecarl remained silent for a moment and simply drank more of his wine, allowing his thoughts to realign themselves before firmly setting the cup back down on the table.

“...Who did you tell?” He finally asked, leaving Sigurd in a state of confusion.

“What? Who did I tell about what?”

Algar shot him a fierce glare. “Oh, spare me the act. You know exactly what I’m talking about. You told someone about the attack on Ravensthorpe, didn’t you? Well, who was it? Who was your contact? Where are they now?”

Sigurd shook his head in frustration. “You’re spewing nonsense, Saxon. No one in Forangal besides you and Aegenwulf knows about Ravensthorpe. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The housecarl prowled towards the Norseman. “Is that so? Then explain to me why there’s a group of Danes in Wedenscire at this very moment investigating the ambush. I assume you heard about Thegn Raedan’s delay? Well, he postponed his journey because of these Danes. And coincidentally, they happen to be near Agenbury. The same town you first visited.”

“How am I supposed to know? Not all Danes have a connection with each other.”

“No, but as I said before, they are specifically investigating the ambush in Ravensthorpe. And on top of that, my scouts also report that they originate from East Anglia -- one of the kingdoms allied with your clan. You expect me to believe that this has nothing to do with you?”

Sigurd sighed, already growing weary of the man’s obstinacy.

“How would I even get the word out? I’m trapped in a castle full of Saxons who would see me dead if they knew my true identity. What, you think I just strolled up to someone and asked for their aid? Don’t be foolish.”

Algar formed his own conclusion. “Well, if you didn’t tell anyone, then that means someone outside of Wedenscire knows about the attack.”

Sigurd’s brow furrowed in resentment. “Perhaps you weren’t as thorough as you thought. There could be other survivors.”

The housecarl narrowed his eyes. “And I suppose you expect me to believe that these ‘survivors’ have yet to try to reach you?”

“What I have to say means nothing. You’ve clearly made up your mind.”

Algar let out a breath, deciding to drop the subject for now. It was obvious that he wasn’t going to get any information out of Sigurd with this method, and unlike other prisoners, he didn’t have the option of dragging him to the torture chambers. He’d have to think of another approach.

“Fine,” he said plainly. “Keep your secrets, Norse. I will learn the truth eventually, whether you like it or not. In the meantime, see to it that you stick to your duties. If you give me even the smallest reason to suspect betrayal, I will not hesitate to strike you down.”

The Saxon walked over to the door and yanked it open, gesturing for Sigurd to leave.

“Now, get out of here. I have much that I must attend to.”

Pushing himself off the wall, Sigurd gladly removed himself from Algar’s chambers and headed for the exit, eager to take his leave.

Just before he could step through the entrance though, a sudden thought crossed his mind and stopped him in his tracks, causing him to glance over his shoulder as he asked one last thing.

“Before I go,” he said despondently, lingering in the doorway, “I need to know -- what exactly did you do to Eivor? How... how did my brother die?”

Algar’s signature smirk returned upon hearing the question and he leaned against the frame, causing the wood to creak.

“Still hurting, are we? You need to let him go, love. He’s not coming back.”

The viking glowered at him. “You think I don’t know that? I know he’s dead. I know my home is gone. But I need to know what happened to him. I need to know whether he died a warrior’s death.”

The Saxon tilted his head in a taunting fashion. “...Your brother died gracefully, Sigurd. He died in a bed of flowers surrounded by his family, and asked me to tell you that he always loved you. We shipped him off on a boat of fire, and soon after, the Valkyries brought him to Valhalla. Now, he feasts and drinks in your name at Odin’s side, waiting for you to join him as he prepares for the Twilight of the Gods. A true warrior’s paradise.”

Sigurd clenched his jaw in hatred, having to restrain himself from attacking Algar right then and there. He knew the man was only trying to rile him up, but the pain of Eivor’s loss remained deep in his heart, and he couldn’t help but feel a certain rage boiling inside him.

“...Your time will come, Algar,” Sigurd practically growled, his voice barely above a whisper. “And when it does, I’ll be there, standing over you and smiling down at your mutilated corpse as the light flickers from your eyes.”

Algar was hardly fazed by the threat. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Lone Wolf. Run along, now. I’m sure Lord Edric is eager to see you.”

Calming himself down, Sigurd simply turned away from the housecarl without saying another word and stormed off into the distance, not even bothering to acknowledge the prying eyes of the Saxons who stood outside.

He knew it was unwise to let his anger run free in such a manner, but in spite of all his attempts to stifle it, Sigurd’s wrath only seemed to burn brighter with each passing day. There was a feeling of hopelessness that he just couldn’t shake off, and with Algar constantly fanning the flames of his grief, part of him feared that he would no longer be able to contain it.

He was only human, after all, and he had his limits just like everyone else. But for the sake of not jeopardizing his relationship with Aegenwulf and his family, Sigurd forced himself to hold it back.

He was already short on friends in this godforsaken castle, and considering the fact that yet another thegn was soon to be in their midst, Sigurd knew it would be foolish to betray the ealdorman’s trust at such an early time.

The Nornir put him on this path for a reason, and regardless of any struggles he may have had to endure along the way, Sigurd decided to put his faith in their judgement for now.

They were the only ones guiding his hand in this obscure land, and he did not wish to defy their plans.

~~~~~~~~~~

THAT EVENING

IN THE WOODS OUTSIDE FORANGAL

“Gjuki!” Broder called out, walking over to the man as he observed the distant castle. “The disguises are ready.”

Gjuki kept his eyes on the walls of Forangal and studied the guards’ routines, meticulously searching for an opening.

“And what of the Saxon thegn?” He questioned. “Any updates on his whereabouts?”

“He hasn’t reached Forangal yet,” Broder answered. “Our scouts say he plans to arrive tomorrow morning at the main gates. Everyone will be there to welcome him, including the ealdorman.”

Gjuki seemed pleased with the news. “Good. Then everything should go smoothly.”

“The plan is still the same?”

The bard looked away from the castle, slowly making his way back to their camp. “Yes. At dawn, we’ll catch up with Raedan’s personal guard and sneak into their ranks. From there, we’ll follow him all the way to Forangal and infiltrate the castle’s walls.”

Broder shrugged. “And then?”

“...Then, we keep an eye out for Eivor’s brother.”

The other man remained skeptical. “You really think Sigurd is still alive? You heard what Eivor said. The man was shot twice before he fell into the river. Chances are he drowned, or died before he even hit the water.”

Gjuki wasn’t convinced. “Do not be so quick to dismiss the unlikely, Broder. It happens more often than you think. Even though I am not yet certain if the fisherman in Agenbury was speaking of the same man, I do believe it is possible at the very least. The Dane he rescued from the river matches Eivor’s description perfectly, and the timing of his arrival is somewhat suspicious.”

Broder decided to humor him. “Fine. Let’s say we do find Sigurd. What then? How are we supposed to get him back home?”

Gjuki sighed, chewing his lip in thought. “I’m afraid I do not yet have an answer for that. If Sigurd is in Forangal, it’s most-likely that he’s under heavy guard. Possibly in the dungeons. If we find him, we’ll report it to Eivor first. I think we’ve left him in the dark for long enough, don’t you?”

“Whatever you think is right, Gjuki.”

The bard smiled. “Good. Then we should focus on getting some rest. Tomorrow will be a busy day, and if everything goes according to plan, we’ll be surrounded by Saxon forces soon enough. I don’t want any of you letting your guard down.”

Broder gave him a firm nod. “Understood.”

“Come, my friend,” Gjuki beckoned, guiding the other man with a hand on the shoulder. “The day is young, and our bellies are still empty. Let us drink to our good fortune, and pray that the gods favor us in the times to come. Odin knows we’ll need it.”

#assassin's creed valhalla #ac valhalla #sigurd styrbjornson #male oc #female oc #sigurd x male oc #ac valhalla fanfic #eitr

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sea-dragon-pride · 5 years ago

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☕☕☕☕☕ (KIDDING, 🌟🌼🌗❓!)

☕☕☕☕☕ WELL IF YOU MUST KNOW,,, my deepest darkest secret… my BIGGEST shame… is that I can’t get Calico’s cats to like me. I KNOW! I’m a fake druid, but I try talkin to them and I chase them around and they’re not havin’ ANY of it. The cats on this boat are anti-Tiller ghskgh;skgsgds

(ALSO THIS GOT LOOOONNNGGGGG, so I’m putting it under the cut, I’m So Sorry For Getting Carried Away)

🌟When your OC loses all hope, who do they turn to first? What helps make them feel better? What calms them down and reassures them? Why?

I think when all hope is lost, I would always turn to Roy! I know I should probably say something like my real dads but I haven’t seen them in so long and I never want to worry them with things they don’t need to know about…. Roy always knew how to keep up a brave face, and somehow had a plan for everything, even when failure seemed inevitable. All the Sea Dragons for that matter, made me feel that way! I could never stay in a sour mood after an evening meal with Bingo or Codec, or hell, even Skiff! They’re practically my family and I know they accepted all parts of me into their ranks, so I can’t help but feel better if we’re all together. Though nowadays, that’s not an option, so… to calm down I usually like to hang out in the crow’s nest and chart stars. You can see the sky and the ocean for MILES, when everything is so grand and beautiful, things can’t seem so bad. Something about being up there reminds me that life is always moving, like the ocean! So if things are bad now… then they can’t stay that way forever, because that time will have to move somewhere else, somewhere in the past. On a simpler level, I really appreciate hugs and snacks. I’m the perfect form for cuddling! It’s not bragging, it’s a fact!!! So if I’m ever sad, just squeeze the life out of me and I’ll feel better.

🌼 Write a short drabble from your OCs POV meeting their LI

I see the red sails being raised at the end of the dock. Black skulls with a sun burst pattern decorates a number of them. The whole ship is made from stained black wood with red trim. The wood even smells burned.

Jeez, these guys are the ostentatious types, huh?

Everyone looks like they’re bustling about, doing the prep work for an extended time out at sea. They’ll be expecting me anytime now, but when have pirates been punctual?

Okay, okay, new boat, new story, don’t sweat the small stuff. No one can ask you too many questions if you just keep up your overly-friendly small talk. These guys are supposed to be more dangerous than the last crews, which means a bigger haul. Roy’s counting on you.

I look around the main deck and spot an older woman with an intricate braid and a wide-brimmed hat. That’s gotta be her. I run up and say:

“OH! Ahoy there!!! I’ve never been on a ship this big before wOOWW! Love the color scheming, it really brings out the whole ‘murder-y’ vibes you guys seem to be going for haha! You must be Captain Rhea!”

The older woman looks perplexed (like they usually do), and responds: “That would be me, aye. Though I don’t remember ordering for an interior decorator aboard my vessel.”

“Hehehe no! But you DID send for a navigator and that’s me! Tiller Jakobie, at your service! I’ll tell ya where ya are, where ya goin, where ya wanna be, and how to get there! I also brought my own maps!” I lift them out of my bag proudly. These babies took ages to chart, but no one appreciates map craftsmanship nowadays.

Rhea sighs: “Ah, I did put Beremy in charge of recruiting didn’t I? Remind me not to do that again…. But yes, unfortunately, our last navigator has seemed to desert us for his own misadventures. If you’re the best we can do for such a short time, then so be it. Boys, get her set up in a room, I have business to attend too.”

Yeah… the misadventures of their old navigator mostly involve spending the next few weeks in the brig of The Quick Silver. If Franz is on guard duty, the poor guy will have to listen to him while he practices new songs. Hehehe that’ll make him WISH we threw him overboard!

I turn to my new alleged crew members: “SO! Miss Captain said something about accommodations? Do you guys have room service?? OH! What about those complimentary little soaps??!! Where am I stayin!! You’ve got a five star suite for me, right?”

Most of the reactions are as expected; a couple a furrowed brows, eye rolls, a few smirks and chuckles. I’ll have em head over heels for me soon enough, I mean, come ON! I’m adorable!!! They look around at each other, and one pipes up:

“Well I know someone who don’t have a bunk mate right now…”

The group kind of snickers and mumbles to each other. I hear some whispers - “That’s a lil mean for her first day, ain’t it?” “With HER, are you serious?” “Well, I ain’t gonna be the next one with a fresh scar for waking her up by accident!” They talk back and forth some more and come to an agreement of some kind? “Alright, we got a room for you, follow us!”

I trail behind them, trying to note down the layout of this ship. It IS bigger than The Quick Silver, more in width than in length. The mizzenmast is fortified and I can see spots for snipers to sit up by the topsails. That’ll be a problem to deal with later… We continue below deck and I’m practically pushed towards a room at the end of the hall. My welcome party already starts backing up toward the hold and they shout:

“Alright, get cozy in there!” More repressed laughing. “Dinner’s served around dusk, see you then!”

Okayyyyy… whatever these guys think they got against me, I’m sure it can’t be that bad. What’s a little hazing between new crew members, right? I’ve faced worse.

“Uh hello?” I knock and open the door.

Oh Fuck. It is that bad.

In the room, there’s a girl, sitting on the lower bunk, sharpening a pair of swords. She doesn’t even flinch when I enter. Her hair is covering a lot of her face, since she’s looking down. It’s so long… Golden hoops dance under her ears. She has bandages around her hands and scars up her arms. Who IS she???

“Are you lost?”

I jolt back. SHIT, I’ve been staring!!! “Wh- huh?”

The girl looks up at me and her hair falls back. Oh NO, she’s PRETTY,,,,!!!!! My face feels hot, WAIT, is this room hot? DON’T tell me you’re blushing right now, Jakobie,,,

She asks again: “Are you lost? This is my room. What are you doing in here?”

Your mission. Remember your mission, dumbass.

“AHAHA OH RIGHT! N-NO WAY! In fact, it’s my job to be Not Lost! I’m Tiller, the new navigator aboard the ship, it’s SUPER nice to me you!!!”

She puts away her whetstone but doesn’t say anything.

I close the door, as I default to rambling over silence. “Well... ANYWAY, your friends said you needed a roomie so here I am! They seem like a fun bunch huh? They mentioned something about you stabbing someone, not that that’s important to me haha! D-Don’t answer that! Those are cool swords you have there!! Where’d you get them? Can you fight with them at the same time!!?? That’s CRAZY! But in a good way! Not that you’re crazy!! Also, I didn’t seem to get your name??” I take a seat on the chest across from her.

She starts to polish her swords. “I didn’t give it.”

Ohhhh one of THOSE types.

She glances up briefly and squints at me. “Why are you wearing a sleeve on only one arm?”

To hide my tattoo.

“OH haha! THIS??? It’s uhhh… to cover a… birthmark! It’s- It’s really gross and ugly and I, uh- hate it so I don’t like looking at it.”

She furrows her brow and kind of scoots further away on her bed after hearing that.

Smooth.

I start putting my stuff away. “Sooooo, I heard someone on the boat is named Beremy?? What’s up with that? That doesn’t sound like a real name.”

“Tiller doesn’t sound like a real name.” She mumbles.

“OHHHH SO SHE HAS JOKES!!! Miss Mystery over here has jests and japes for the the new girl, okay, I’ll take that one. I’m glad comedy is allowed in this room.”

She seems to eye me more closely now as I empty my backpack. She responds: “Just don’t touch my things and you won’t be sleeping in the galley with your namesake.”

“The other crew members seem to be kind of scared of you. Should I be worried, or are you all bark and no bite?”

I feel a whoosh of cool air whip past my ear. One of her swords is suddenly embedded in the wall behind me, inches from the side of my head.

Whoa…. she’s Perfect.

She sounds a little irritated when she says, “I like for people to make their own judgements about me and not listen to rumors from people they’ve just met.”

My heart is racing. (Probably from the sword, right??) I yank it out of the wall. “That… was SO COOL!!! I didn’t even see you throw it. You’ve gotta teach me that!!!””

She looks a little taken aback.

I continue, “Also have you ever thought about pulling your hair out of your face with something??? Then maybe you can aim better!! Plus… I think your eyes are really pretty...”

“I-”

Suddenly, there’s a bell ringing down the hall.

The girl looks away to the side. Was her face always that pink? She stands up and makes for the door. “That’s the dinner bell. You can… come with me if you want. It’d be weird to just stay in here.”

I hop up. “Alright Miss Mystery, if you INSIST!”

“It’s Mayday.”

“What?”

“Mayday. That’s my name. If I am stuck with you, then you at least ought to know what to call me.”

Mayday.

Aw man… how am I gonna figure out this one…?

🌗 Early mornings or late nights? What do they spend their time doing during these hours?

Early mornings all the way! As much as I LOVE sleepovers and gossiping over pillow talk, there’s something AMAZING about seeing the sunrise and getting to run around before the rest of the crew has woken up! Usually, I like to sneak food from Mr. Biscuit while he’s still making breakfast and I try to hide stickers in Selim’s armory. I chat with all the animals around the boat too! You know, catch up with the seagulls and dolphins following along side. I usually find a rat or two, and they always have the best jokes!!! Miss Shih says I should get rid of any rats I find, but what she doesn’t know, won’t hurt my loyal subjects. And then my favorite, I GET TO WAKE EVERYONE UP!!! Miss Shih’s always awake, so she’s the exception! You really bond and get to know a person once you’ve seen them at their most annoyed and delirious state, A HA I LOVE IT!!!

❓ A random fact or short drabble! Or make up your own question to ask the OC!

My question of choice: If you had a personalized Captain Hat, what power would it grant you?

THAT’S A REALLY HARD ONE!!! Part of me almost wants to inherit Roy’s hat because his power is really cool and he’s never let me USE IT!!!! >:///

But part of me also feels like it would be fun to just enhance the druid powers I already have! Like basically just become a water-bender and control the weather when you’re out at sea!! OH! Or maybe it could be a shape-shifting animal hat!!! (But how would that work in animal form?? Would they all get little hats?? That’s not intimidating!!!) Maybe it could be navigator related, and I would always know where I am and never be lost! OR MAYBE! It could track the thing you desire most!!! That seems kind of heavy for me though haha! Regardless, I can’t make up my mind! I want them all! The solution is that all captain’s should give me their hats and that’ll be the end of it!!! It’s only fair, and I deserve it of course!!!

#anon #anonymous #GOSH THANK YOU IF YOU READ ALL THE WAY THROUGH....#I KNOW I WENT A LIL BUCK WILD ON THE MAYDAY QUESTION BUT HGKDJSHG:SDKGG WOWEEEE #i apologize for my jank writing but it was FUNNNN!!!!#it's late now tho so I'm going to bed lmao!!#tiller talks!!!#Anonymous

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amaloaf · 8 years ago

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Forget(Remember) Ch. 2

Description: Sarge wants to help Fillmore but can’t do it without context. An extremely drawn out quest of Sarge finding out Fillmore’s past. ((Takes place way in the past Sarge, Fillmore, Flo, and Ramone are in their 20s))

Ships: Sargemore, Flomone, Sheriff/OC (background)

Warnings: if ur sensitive to cult-like organizations, nsfw situations, or just fucked up shit please don’t read

Prev - Next

Sarge turned to see Fillmore pushing his chair up next to him. It was hard not to look him in the eyes, even with the chair, Fillmore was almost to Sarge’s chin. He cursed his genetics again in his head. “Morning.. Fillmore. How’d you find us?”, Sarge asked even though he already knew the answer.

“Flo said to move on out, coffee’s getting cold, man.” Fillmore turned to Ramone and Sarge flinched, the hippie was casually groping the soldiers ass with his less visible hand. Sarge stayed still but knew that the heat in his face was betraying him.

“Yeah, we’ve been taking a little long, haven’t we general?”

Sarge grunted and tried to squirm away from Fillmore’s large hand. Fillmore only squeezed harder and gave him a ‘you're up to something and this is your punishment’ glance. “Well why we have breakfast together and you dudes can finish your conversation.”

“We’re fine!” Sarge shouted, mentally slapping himself on every syllable. Now Fillmore would definitely know something was up. “I mean, I was just asking Ramone about some tattoo consultations and we got distracted talking, right?” He looked at Ramone helplessly. The artist nodded along, still shaken from the possibility of getting caught.

“Well if you're all sure..” Fillmore looked at Sarge with his big fawn eyes and batted his lashes together subconsciously. “We could always just go off on our own?”

“Sounds fine.” Sarge held out his hand, clasping Ramone’s in a firm handshake. “We’ll talk later eh, Ramirez?”, he muttered. Ramone ushered them out with a quick ‘of course’ and began attending to the several customers already curating within the shop.

Sarge swore he saw Fillmore frown at him, but when he turned Fillmore just motioned him along to the diner. They had sat themselves at their usual outdoor table and ordered before Fillmore finally spoke to him. “So, a tattoo, huh?”

Sarge continued staring a hole into his coffee. “Just a wild thought.” He grimaced as Fillmore sipped his black coffee and proceeded to add cream to his. “Maybe something patriotic. On my arm?”

“Right.” Fillmore fiddled with his napkin in his lap. “Arms..” Fillmore’s hands shook a little when he raised his coffee cup. After a long sip he asked, “Sarge, honey?”

Sarge’s face pinched at the pet name, but he didn't address it. “Yeah, Fillmore?”

“Can you honestly tell me that you were only at Ramone’s for body-art?” Fillmore knew the answer to his question when Sarge sputtered out his coffee in a waterfall of answers pertaining to ‘NO of course that's all why would I lie why are you questioning me get off my case hippie”. The diner patrons within earshot turned to look at the racket. Flo, passing by to deliver a beverage to Ramone, gave the table a quick ‘Get it Under Control or Get it Out of My Diner’ lecture. They chose the later, with a dejected Fillmore following a huffy Sarge.

On the last stretch of pavement between the main town and the surplus hut, Sarge heard the sound of sniffling that stopped him cold in his tracks. He turned and sure enough, the golden haired mess behind him was the cause of the noise. He watched for a minute as Fillmore pulled up in front of him. Sarge inhaled deeply, “I, I'm sorry for how I acted in the diner. I kno-”, he was cut off by Fillmore’s hand.

“Let's go home, man.” Sarge normally would've clinched at the harshness in his lover’s voice, but he knew that he had deserved it and followed Fillmore down the walkway. He stopped when he realized that Fillmore had intentions of going into the surplus hut instead of his own domed tent-cave. He did not ask any questions, however, only closed to door.

As soon as the knob clicked Fillmore began his interrogation. Sarge’s ears burned hot red with shame. He knew he was in trouble, and he hated the feeling. But what he hated most was the lecture. Fillmore moved around the ground floor, the only level accessible to him, talking himself into a frenzy. It was like watching an asylum patient go insane. Sarge walked around organizing shelves and display tables as he swerved between them and the ‘wheelchair of rage’. Despite his obvious embarrassment at the situation Sarge only caught every few words Fillmore was saying, he had missed his entire morning routine to talk with Ramone and the shop opened in ten minutes. Through the clank of dogtags and canteens, he heard the words ‘leaving’, ‘sneaking around’, and ‘lying’. In the rustling of army issued cargo pants and boots, he heard something about ‘being needed more than he knew’ and something about getting out of bed in the morning. He only really stopped at the glass section when Fillmore said, “I just don't know what Ramone’s giving you that I can't..”

“What did you just say?”

“That you're the reason I get out of bed nowadays?”

“No, no, what you just said!”

“You mean about Ramone?” Fillmore saw anger flash across Sarge’s face. “Well what else could you have been up to asking for a ‘personal favor’ from the only other openly queer man in town, George? And then you ask his wife to leave you two alone for more than thirty minutes? Don't gape at me, man, Flo told me everything. I know you, and believe me that was plenty of time to get *that* disheveled.” He motioned to Sarge's stuck up hair and wrinkled clothing. Sarge suddenly became very aware of the somewhat visible hickeys peeking through his shirt collar. Even if Fillmore was the one to put them there, it still wasn't helping the image in Sarge's favor. The tattoo excuse was long out the window, Sarge himself could even believe that lie. The only real option seemed be coming clean, he was fucked either way.

“Alright, you caught me. I wasn't at Ramone’s for a tattoo consultation.” Seeing Fillmore's face he quickly added, “But I can promise you I'm not having an affair either, swear on my life.”

Fillmore visibly relaxed, Sarge wasn't one to take promises lightly. “Then wha, what were you doing if not that, man?”

“I was..” Sarge stuttered over his words. “I was.. asking him about, your.. past. Since you two grew up together?” Sarge did his best to face Fillmore, but he always found himself weakened around the larger man. Fillmore looked at him blankly, his mind refusing to comprehend what he was being told. When it finally came through to him what Sarge had just said, his face held incomprehensible amounts of fear and his voice came out just barely above a whisper.

“What did he tell you?”

“If it's any consolation, not a damned thing. Whatever you're hiding, it's still safely hidden.” He hadn't meant it to come out so condescending, but Sarge was sick of the secrets. “But what I'd like to know, why everyone else in town seems to have enough knowledge to be *able* to keep this big of a secret from me? Do you not trust me enough, is that it?”

“Sar-”

“Don't answer, I already know.”

“Geor-”

“DO. NOT. Call me that!” Sarge hissed, his voice cracking with anger. “DON’T YOU EVER CALL ME THAT FUCKING NAME, EVER!”

“Sarge would you please look at you hand, man!” It wasn't like Fillmore to yell, and it compelled Sarge to look at the appendage in question. In his anger, Sarge had taken the glass object in his hand, some sort of delicate sculpture, and crushed it in with his fist. He could see Fillmore’s concern, his hand was gushing blood and was quite obviously needed stitches. Worse, however, was the fact that the objects behind him weren't for sale, they were being sent off to the Mater’s kid for a base cleaning and polish. That was to say, they were caked high with dirt, dust, and whatever else had been on them before being shipped to him. He looked at Fillmore hopelessly, who grabbed his uninjured hand and led him to the new doctor’s office.

#fanfic #my stuff #sarge #fillmore #sargemore #idek #forget(remember)#don't call sarge by his real name or you'll die #im dedicating this chapter to daffy because I love her and also she puts up w/ my shit

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