#as a note on this one only because it's a real old word - a fane is like a shrine

[ryteu]

Sestina de Senectute

Some days I think on all who fear to fade

And seal themselves within a shining fane

Made sacrosanct by virtue of their fame,

Though it may merely be a failed and frayed

Old shadow they might fret upon to feign

A self more worthy of a little frame,

As though that little, little frame

Would not itself one day begin to fade!

Indeed, it seems the great, unfailing feign

Of long eternity that never fane,

And Fate, and farcéd age shall become frayed

And rot away for sake of highest fame.

There may some merit be in trusted fame

For most distinguished lives to serve as frame;

Yet, even this by Virtue may be frayed

Until all things proved most unworthy fade

And leave behind and empty name as fane,

While mem’ry now posterity must feign.

A twisted, common thing it is to feign

The lives of those held great upon mere fame!

Where might find Truth in such a faithless fane

A place to now reside and form a frame

That should enhance instead of early fade

The portrait of a person merely frayed?

It seems for me no ill to be so frayed;

And better still by far than I should feign,

For some unbidden fear that soon I’ll fade,

Myself a shadow worth a petty fame.

I should rather like a small, honest frame

Upon some little, wayward forest fane,

Where worthy few might make old earth a fane

Of tired leaves and bedded grasses, frayed

With age. There shall Nature make a new frame

From ash, and bone, and what old Time may feign.

Though such a silent death may gain no fame,

It matters not to me, for all must fade.

Old, frayed blossoms fade;

So, too, must the frame of fame.

None may feign a fane.

[fmdluna]

maybe it’s me - micha’s self reflection.

scenario: micha steps back, reflects on her career thus far, and wonders where to go from here. basically a “what we gonna do now” type of thing, took her long enough huh word count: 814 notes: listen i have writer’s block & this isn’t nearly as good as it could be but this is really important regardless, so like.....yeah!! 

it’s been a while since she pulled one of these.

it’s 4 am, and micha’s lying wide awake in the living room, wondering what the fuck to do from here. it’s gotten quieter since the seasons changed, wish members are here less because of the sharehouse filming, mc opportunities, and all the other individual activities they’ve had. micha’s had her fair share of work to do too, from keeping her channel’s uploads consistent to wrapping up the year with her group strong.

and yet....it still doesn’t seem like enough. she’s so used to the schedules they’ve had for the past few years that it’s easier to endure, but harder to feel like she’s accomplished anything. micha’s like a robot, going where bc needs her to be when they need her to be there. in a way she’s....okay with feeling this way, okay with doing the same old thing. for the first time in a very long time, micha feels jaded - and it makes her feel impossibly stuck.

instinct makes her blame the company for making her this way, but after a second thought she realizes that’s not the case at all. she was the one who was allowing this same routine to play over and over, so she had to be the one to change the course of things. it was easy to point fingers, but when she comes to think of it she’s got some faults, too. she’s ready to scoff out loud at how ridiculous she was when she was younger, but no one could tell her the micha back then didn’t have the drive to last her a lifetime. 

where did that go? ironically, she feels it went into all the energy it took to complain about her situation, rather than do anything about it. there was a time when she was willing to compete with everyone, to seriously compete with everyone, to fight against any things people had against her with her actions rather than her words. once she’d realized her work wasn’t paying off was when the anger started, when she started speaking out, when she stopped trying.

holy shit. the realization knocks any feeling of sleep from her, and she instantly grabs her phone to begin scrolling through her camera roll. scrolling, scrolling, scrolling, until she finds it. dated december of 2015 - exactly 4 years ago. the quality’s awful, and she’d die if she was forced to wear that outfit again, but she can practically feel her enthusiasm radiating off the screen. turning the volume off as to not wake anyone up, she presses play.

there’s no sound, but the memory of this day is so vivid that she can nearly recite the video by heart. the younger version of herself is excitedly talking to the screen, recording a vlog that had never been meant for anyone else but herself. in it, she’s going christmas shopping for the first time as a wish member, using the little money she’d had that year to go to a store and get her mom a little bath set. she’s going on and on as she walks through the stores, talking about her thoughts on living away from her mom during the holidays and how she’s proud of their success so far. it’s amazing to see how little she ate back then - for both diet and to save money - and how she still manages to be relatively pleased with her predicament.

was she too picky now? she was in a dramatically better situation financially now, but felt even less gratitude than she had back then. as time went on micha’s beginning to notice that she was the cause of her own downfall, that she hasn’t been doing all she knows she can do to succeed. only recently had she started to feel that spark come back, and what was that? lunaverse - her asmr channel she’d worked hard to pitch had been what allowed it to come to pass. turns out a change of attitude had done her some good, after all.

so for the first time in literal years, micha has a change of heart. 

maybe she shouldn’t be trying so hard to work against bc, but instead work with them.

it didn’t mean she disliked the company any less - they had plenty of faults on their own, but she’s gotten into that enough times. at the end of the day, bc was the only thing as of now that would allow her the individual attention she’d always wanted. she was the only thing in between her and her success. fane was just a game to see how far someone was willing to go.

and finally, micha feels that overwhelming feeling to be better come washing over her - it was now, or never. this was her time to be known for something big, for real.

[fanesavin]

Following the events of the Parade, Fane and Faye talk - @faye-andrews

Ironic, how running away from something would ultimately almost always lead you back to a place you felt safest. A place you knew you could exist without pretenses and expectation. Perhaps that was why Fane practically breezed straight through the silent and presently empty cottage straight to the bedroom, a glance in the mirror earned a low noise of disgust. Kicking off his shoes sporadically, his fingers hooked into the material of his shirt, the excitement he felt earlier in the day about this entire upcoming week replaced by gnawing guilt and general shame as he thought back to what had happened barely an hour ago. “Fucking idiot,” he muttered under his breath dragging his fingers roughly through his hair just another reminder of what a goddamn waste of time this all was. It was his fault, Maya he hit that point home very clearly. Of course it was. Why wouldn’t it be. Things had been good, but the lingering anger was hard to shake. The knowledge of the fact that jerk had slept with both Dani and Maya just adding salt to an already sore wound.

Yanking open the drawers just the other side of violent and searching through for a shirt he picked one at random and pulled it on. Unfortunately, the silence of the house only left him able to recall with startling clarity the shit-eating grin Ryden wore when he realised that very same fact. Fane growled low in his throat. No one was here to rein him in, no one here to tell him to stop. The temptation to rip that kid’s tongue out of his mouth right on the spot had be very, very real. It wouldn’t have been the first occasion for him to have done it if he had gone through with it. But rare was it for Fane to truly ever sink so low into his impulses. Especially these days but it didn’t mean he didn’t have them regardless.

There was no consideration for the state of the bedroom, items left half tossed over the space as he shot barefoot for the backdoor and straight into the night air walking straight. Crossing the sand dunes until bristly grass became soft sand he walked until he reached the spot where the swell rushed and retreated. The water from each wave of water vanishing into the sand and as his foot hit a rock he winced. Bloody typical. Needing some sort of outlet he crouched, scooping up the rock before lobbing it out to sea where it sank with a splash. Rock after rock Fane threw and watched sink under the water, each a little harder than the one before.

Faye eventually made her way back to the cottage, an exhausted Eowyn in her arms. It had a been a long day, and a mostly enjoyable one, except for the incident at the end. For which Faye blamed herself in part. If she had come over sooner… whatever had occured that had upset everyone so much might not have happened at all. Though she hadn’t been there for anything but the tail end, and Ryden was gone. Maya was clearly upset, and Fane was trying to talk to her.

But ‘if’s’ and ‘might haves’ were dangerous things. Things Faye wasn’t willing to dwell on. But she knew from the moment Fane left the parade that he was going to be feeling guilty. She knew he and Ryden weren’t the best of friends. Though she was starting to believe that it was bigger than just a wrecked car, no matter how valuable or dear to Fane the vehicle was. It wasn’t worth upsetting Maya and Dani over. Fane might be able to hold a grudge with the best of them, but Faye was skeptical that it was the car that caused his absolute loathing of the young wolf. At least not directly.

Making her way inside and upstairs, Faye got Wyn out of clothes and into some clean pjs after giving her a quick wash down of the worst of the stickiness of the day. She could have a proper bath in the morning. The little girl never woke up as her mother tucked her in, rolling over and clutching Bun as she continued sleeping soundly. Faye checked her watch. The babysitter would be here any minute, but Faye didn’t know if they would still need her or not. Though there was still the matter of finding Fane tonight.

He’d been here, she realized as she went to the bedroom. Things were strewn about, drawers left open, and there was a flash of a second where an old fear rose up inside her. Fear of being left behind when people had had enough. Fear of people leaving without a word. But no. That wasn’t what this was she reminded herself. Though her heart raced as she moved to his drawer, finding it still mostly full but rifled through. A bit more inspection found his shirt from earlier on the floor. Faye picked it up, holding it tightly in her hand for a long moment as she wondered where he might be. And trying to calm her still racing heart, and the tight fear in her chest.

At that moment, the babysitter arrived, knocking on the door, and Faye went down to greet her. It was only then that she noticed the back door standing open, and realized where she might find Fane. Filling the sitter in as much as was needed, Faye left her to it and went outside, following the footprints that still littered the sand where the water hadn’t erased them.

She followed until she finally saw a figure in the distance. Not bothering to hide her approach, Faye stood a bit away from him, the water washing over her bare feet, and looked out over the water. She didn’t realize she still had his discarded shirt in her hand as she waited on him to say something if he wanted.

There was more to the story than met the eye, was Fane pissed about the car? Sure he was, but one thing he’d gotten rather good at over the years was finding a way to transfer his feelings about one topic over onto another. Learning to create a big noise about one thing so that people didn’t look at the possible other reasons that might have existed to fuel the behaviour he displayed. Was it right? Not really, but it was the easiest way to deal with things for him than confronting them directly. Unfortunately, the fallout had consequences and in this instance Maya had been caught up in the crossfire and for that, Fane wasn’t sure he could forgive himself. Even if it had been an indirect consequence of what had happened. The guilt regardless of whose fault it was sat like a stone in his stomach, and he was sure that if he could have felt ill he would have right then.

As it was, Fane only felt the cold weight of guilt and the weight of the stones he clutched and launched into the water. There was something cathartic about the repetitive action, in lifting the weight of the stone and holding it before propelling it to the ocean where it would consequently be taken away and shaped into something new. Change was an constant phenomenon but it was not something so easily brought about when you fought it at almost every turn. In this instance, old habits really did die hard and though Fane sensed Faye’s approach he did nothing. Nothing except pick up another stone, a flat one this time and instead of throwing it overarm he drew his arm back sideways before slinging it forward. The stone sailed through the air and hit the surface of the water, rebounding once, twice, three times before it sink into the water with a rather unsatisfactory plop.

After that particular throw, Fane’s jaw clenched his eyes absentmindedly on some far off spot. Perhaps once upon a time he might’ve considered running, because this was just how it went wasn’t it? Regardless of intent, he found a way to fuck it up and this was his fault at the end of the day wasn’t it? He’d gone over there, his presence had sparked Ryden to feel the unnecessary need to start calling name like some first-grader all because of what? “If you’re going to lecture me about picking fights, I didn’t actually want to start anything” Fane’s voice was flat, carried by the ocean breeze though a note of distaste coloured his words “he’s the one who started to dig into me after realising he’d fucked both my kids.” He picked up another rock though this one was held in his hands, weighted as he spoke not that he looked back at Faye “which, coincidentally I realised not long before” honesty was something they had promised one another, and Fane was willing to explain his behaviour which Faye had obviously noticed during their conversation with Milo. Another thing to feel bad about, he’d royally fucked up, and the though caused him to tug slightly at his ear.

Faye watched Fane toss rocks into the sea, knowing that he knew she was there. If he chose not to speak after too long, she’d do it instead. But Faye was patient. Especially at times like this. Times where she knew in the past he would’ve been seriously thinking about just up and running away. Though she didn’t truly think he’d ever do that. Not now. At least… not without asking her to come with. Though running from your problems, running from things that hurt… it didn’t make them go away. It only made it harder to come back to later.

Finally, Fane spoke up, and Faye glanced down at her feet, giving a small shake of her head. “Since when have I ever lectured you about anythin’?” she said gently, though it was rhetorical and Faye didn’t expect him to answer. She did look up, however, at the mention of the Ryden sleeping with both Dani and Maya. Her mouth opened, and the shock and confusion was clear on her face, though she swallowed back the hundreds of questions that popped into her head. Well, that explained a few things. But not everything.

She moved a bit closer, reaching down to pick up her own rock. She held it flat in her palm, testing the weight before giving it a slanted toss. It plunked down hard into the water, not skipping once. Faye huffed. She had always sucked at skipping rocks. She watched the water for a bit longer before she spoke again.

“That’s… a helluva thing to find out,” she agreed. “‘Specially when you already don’t like the guy.” Faye chewed her lip, and let out a long sigh. “But… I’m startin’ to think it’s about more than just the car.” She looked at him then, turning her head in his direction. The glitter in her hair glinted in the little bit of light that was left. “Because as much as you love that car… as much as it means to you… Maya means more. And you would never hurt her.” Faye knew that Fane would probably contradict her, saying that he had, in fact, hurt Maya. And technically he was right. She had been hurt, but so had Fane. It didn’t excuse anything that had happened, or make anything that either Maya or Fane had felt any less relevant, but context was always very important.

This wasn’t about the guy wrecking Fane’s beloved car. Faye didn’t even think it was about Ryden sleeping with both Dani and Maya. Not really. Because Fane might know how to hold grudges, but when it came to his family, there was little he wasn’t willing to swallow.

“Do you wanna tell me what really happened?” she asked gently. “The real reason you’re so angry with him?” Faye wasn’t afraid to call Fane out when she felt he was withholding something. He didn’t lie, but omitting things… that he would do if he didn’t think the details were important. A loophole which Faye found exceedingly frustrating at times like this.

"That time you tried to convince me you teach Defence Against Dark Magic, and not Defence Against Dark Arts” perhaps it had been rhetorical but even when he was feeling lousy it was hard not to poke a little bit. Proof, that regardless of how miserable he felt Faye could always find some way to draw him back a step of two. Unfortunately, it didn’t last all that long and her silence regarding the matter of Dani and Maya caused him to start rubbing at the spot just behind his ear the other hand still weighting the rock he’d picked up. He still felt the creeping judgement from earlier like a thousand creepy-crawlies had made their way under his skin, not from Faye, but from the entire situation but wasn’t this always the way. Things just had to go wrong where people could see.

He dropped the stone then, not bothering to toss it and instead opted to fold his arms over his chest in a partially defensive position. Not from Faye, at least not exactly. More from the topics at hand, as though standing in such a fashion might just allow him to withstand the blow of them as he was forced to think back over the day. Fane stood silently as Faye tried and failed to skim the rock on the water, and his eyes drifted down to the water that had yet to touch his feet. It was one of the few things he hated about the beach. Getting his feet wet and having sand stuck to them regardless of how much you tried to get rid of it afterwards. Petty grievances, but present ones nevertheless.

So, when Faye spoke Fane merely tipped his mouth down into his shoulder a small disgruntled noise leaving him as she claimed it to be more than the car. A part of him wanted to protest, because yes, this was about his car. Entirely about the car.

But was that really the case?

Fane knew the answer, and he might’ve been annoyed if anyone else had figured out the fact that it wasn’t everything. Though if anyone was going to draw the conclusion, it would be Faye wouldn’t it? The person who knew the most about him in his lifetime. The one who knew how to read between the lines of what he said and how he behaved to come to the conclusion when there was more at stake than just a frivolous item. Because no, Fane wouldn’t sacrifice his family’s security for the sake of one metal tin can (even if he winced internally to reduce his precious corvette to such a lowly comparison). So her calling him out on it, caused his arms to tighten and shoulders to grow a fraction tenser and standing there, posture tense, Fane was reminded of the nagging ache low in his back. One that was an ever-present nuisance since the smash. “I did hurt her though,” Fane’s protest was spoken quietly but no less seriously “and what does that say about me? If I’m willing to hurt the people I care about all because of-- what? Because of some punk ass kid who thinks he’s a smart-ass because he can taunt me in front of Dani, Maya, Eowyn… You, in front of my family,” Fane’s mouth twisted his head tipping as he looked away the simmering anger starting to creep its way back. “I was so angry Faye, and God I wanted to make him suffer for running his mouth” but he hadn’t.

Did that count for anything though? The intent still existed there. The consideration about going through with it. But also the consideration of the pain his behaviour would cause and so he had barely said a thing in response. Stood despite the words and how much he wished to act on them. Yet, it still hadn’t been enough to spare his family from harm. He might not have hurt them directly, but a part of him thought that indirectly harming them was worse in a way. Further evidence that perhaps family wasn’t something he was truly cut out for at the end of the day.

But here was Faye, who knew that despite the bluster and hot air there was more to it. Knew that while he would never lie to her, there were instances where he may perhaps omit details if only to try and stop her from worrying so much about him. Because he would never stop trying to protect her or their family. His jaw set as he stared out at the ocean once more. Did he want to tell her? “We’re a family Faye, all of us… Dani, Maya, Eowyn… You and me, we’re-- married, we’re partners, you’re my wife” it was the first time he’d ever uttered the words aloud and whether he’d say them again was an uncertain entity in itself. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her presently, his hand rubbing his other arm as he spoke “wouldn’t you be angry too if you faced the very real possibility where you could lose everything because some dumbass decision or situation that you didn’t even want to be in, in the first place? Never get a chance to do the things you want to do? Or even just say goodbye. All because--” he pressed his thumb to his index finger and snapped them sharply the sound a stark comparison to the quietness around them and emphasising his point “all because that’s it. It’s done. Over. Nada. Time’s up? How could anyone not be-- mad, at a situation or the person that put you in that position… Directly or not? Magic or not?”

“It is Defense Against Dark Magic,” she huffed, glad that he was able to at least make a small attempt at humor. “Says it right there on the syllabus.” Faye knew it was most likely going to be short-lived, but something was better than nothing. And her silence about Dani and Maya was merely because it was so… out of the blue… such a small world kinda thing, that Faye wasn’t really sure what there was to say. Other than what she did say a bit later. As for the public bit of the encounter, Faye was used to shit happening where people could see. She couldn’t count the number of times she’d gotten into a brawl in the street with someone. It had once gotten to the point where people made bets on whether or not she would fight someone for mouthing of to her that week.

But Fane wasn’t her. Most public attention, especially the negative kind, was a nightmare for him. An anxiety attack waiting to happen. Though that felt like the smallest of things on the list this evening. Her rock plunked heavily into the water, and Faye rubbed a hand through her hair. The braids had held tightly though the day, so she could only run her hand back over them, not able to run her fingers through it like she usually did. She felt more than saw the way Fane wrapped his arms around himself after dropping his rock, and she moved a bit closer, not content to leave him standing all alone when he was so obviously shaken. Though she didn’t touch him just yet, giving him the personal space he might still need while still being there and being closeby. Faye dug her toes into the sand, enjoying the feeling of the wetness between her toes. It was cool, and she moved her toes until the tops of her feet were completely covered.

She asked her question and waited to see if he would answer. Though she doubted he would try and push the topic off as nothing now that she had made her connections and called him on them. Because she did know him. Better than nearly anyone. She certainly knew more about him than anyone. There were things he’d told her that no one else knew. Things he’d trusted her with that she would take to her grave. And she’d done the same. It hadn’t been easy for them to find that trust in each other. Their respective histories didn’t include much unguarded trust. But time and circumstance had shown them that some things are simply meant to be. The two of them included. So while it had taken her a bit, between everything else that went on from day to day in their lives, Faye had slowly fit the pieces together here and there. With today’s incident being the final one. Because family was everything to Fane. Whether or not he thought himself deserving of it or not. Faye thought no one deserved it more than he did, but again, that was something they both knew.

Faye moved closer as he spoke. “What happened hurt, yeah,” she agreed, because there was no denying it. “But not just Maya. It hurt you too.” This time she did reach up to lightly touch his arm. “But you weren’t willing to hurt her to get a few words in edgewise. Being willing to hurt someone takes forethought. Hurting someone unknowingly, it…” Faye sighed. “It doesn’t make the hurt any less painful, but… it is not the same thing, baby.”

“And I know you did.” Her hand curled over his arm. “Whatever he said to you to make you so upset… the fact that you didn’t smash his fucking teeth in makes you the bigger person. That he started in on you when there was no reason other than he could. Trust me… I woulda had a hard time not doin’ it too.” Fane didn’t get angry easily. He got upset, sure… just like anyone else. But truly angry? Faye had only seen that a handful of times. “Fuck him, alright? Wyn only knew that you and Maya were upset, not why. And you know that I’m gonna stand right there beside you no matter what someone says. I know that… that it still doesn’t make it better. That bein’ talked to like that in front of people you love… it sucks. But it doesn’t for one second change anything about you. Not to me. Certainly not to Wyn. And I doubt it does for either Dani or Maya either. As hard as that might be to believe right now.”

Faye took a breath and stood next to him for a moment, her hand curled around his arm, simply letting herself feel the way his skin warmed beneath her. Family was the only thing Faye had ever wanted. A partner, children, a home… all of it. And she had that now. And other than Eowyn, it was all because of the man in front of her. The man she loved more than anything. He deserved the world, and Faye would give it to him if she could. Though his thoughts that he wasn’t cut out for family might have frightened her just a bit if he’d spoken them aloud. If only because Faye still doubted herself. In some ways. Doubted her worthiness of love and family and the things she wanted, simple as they were. She didn’t doubt Fane. Never that.

But what he said next, that they were a family - all of them - and that the two of them were married… that she was his wife… Faye couldn’t help the small sound that left her. The tiniest of sobs because she hadn’t realized until right then how much she had wanted to hear it. And even if it never happened again, she would be content with that. Her hand on his arm tightened as her eyes started to sting. And she covered her mouth with her free hand so he could finish speaking. Though as he did, as he explained more about why he felt the way he did, a feeling of dread settled in Faye’s belly, and she looked up at Fane. The thing was, Faye did know that feeling. Of one moment in time being all that stood between you and the rest of your life. Between the things you loved and… nothing.

She knew the feeling, and the anger, and the fear. Maybe not recently, but just over a year ago, when she had lost her magic and Fane had been gone too… Faye had known that feeling quite well. Because if not for Eowyn, Faye might not be here now. All because of a decision that someone else had made. She looked up and shook her head, realization slowly dawning on her. Faye felt slightly ill as the full weight of what he was saying trickled down her spine, and the hand that had covered her mouth reached out and twisted in Fane’s shirt. She wasn’t sure what she could say, what she could do. Because even if he didn’t say the words out loud, Faye knew what had happened. She knew what had happened, and it terrified her. But it also made her angry. Not at Fane - she already knew why he wouldn’t have told her - but at Ryden. How could… how could he be so careless? So… so wreckless with another person’s life? And then to stand there and… mock that person like it had never happened?

Faye hands tightened in Fane’s shirt, and her forehead dropped against his chest regardless of whether he wanted her to be touching him or not. “You could’ve told me… Christ… you could’ve told me, baby…” There was no accusation or hurt in her tone, just pure honesty. Where once Faye might have gotten angry at him, what was the point? He was here. He was alive. And that didn’t mean she wasn’t still terrified at what might have happened, and absolutely livid at Ryden (who she sincerely hoped had simply been an ignorant fuck and had no idea what had actually happened). “Are you alright?” she asked, pulling back to look at him and wondering if there was anything amiss that she hadn’t noticed over the last few weeks. And if there was, she felt like an inconsiderate fool. “God, I’m gonna fuckin’ kill him myself…” she sniffed fiercely, swiping at her eyes as she tried to look Fane over.

Perhaps it was just something he should get over, unfortunately he couldn’t help the fact his mind lingered on the smallest detail of every single thing that went wrong. Retreating and dissecting until he’d spun himself up in such a web of what ifs and maybes that the only outcome he could be guaranteed of was his own idiocy. Just as Maya had said herself, this was his fault. Technically, both their faults but Fane’s mind had latched on that single accusation. If only he’d done something else, offered to take Eowyn to look at some of the stands or get her face painted-- Anything, but all he remembered was the blind madness that filled him when he’d learned the truth of not only Maya’s relationship but Dani’s too? Normally, Fane was pretty blasé about the topic not typically getting involved in his kid’s love lives but unfortunately former feelings about Ryden coloured a particular urge to do something. And in all honesty, he hadn’t gone over in search of picking a fight, he’d gone over to find out how they had met one another.

Unfortunately, Ryden had started mouthing off and while Fane was well aware of why the wolf had done it the lingering fact it had rubbed him exactly the wrong way was more than likely why it had escalated the way it had. And now, Fane just felt tired, and tempted to just crawl into bed and blow off the entire week regardless of what he was obligated to do. The week was about Pride, being who you were, and-- If Fane was honest with himself he wasn’t sure if there was much he was feeling proud of presently. Nor was he sure if he felt entirely secure in who he was. So many things had just felt wrong lately, his work no longer felt compelling, his home felt empty, and Fane beneath it all felt out of sorts with himself. Typical then, that it had come to a head on this day of them all. The anger he felt towards the situation was minimal in comparison to the anger he felt towards himself presently. For not just ignoring it all, for not just swallowing poison and accepting it because Maya and Dani’s feelings were more important than his own petty grievances. Because, regardless of what Faye would say about his own feelings being necessary and valid, the fact of the matter once again was that being upset about things apparently wasn’t justified. Being angry about things was just him being god awfully irrational. He was the one at fault. That much had been made clear to him.

So Fane knew already what he was going to have to do, because what he felt didn’t matter. He’d sacrifice if it meant restoring Maya’s happiness and perhaps one day he’d grow numb to the lingering feeling of clearly not being enough for anyone in his family. Fane had inadvertently started rubbing his arm again, and god he wished he had a hoodie right now. Wished he could bundle himself up, tug his sleeves down and just wrap himself away from things that upset him. Faye’s clarification that it had hurt him caused his gaze at the distant spot to grow cold, “so what if it did? So what if I was upset Faye?” his voice wavered with emotion and it took him a few to control it from getting too thick. “Once again the universe has shown me I have no fucking right at all to be upset about some tosser using not only one but two of my kids?” He stood tense and silent as Faye gently touched his arm. “And yet! Not even the fact I barely said anything at all was enough because it’s my fault regardless, Jesus, I was an idiot to think it’d ever be different. I went over there because I wanted to get some context to how they knew one another and that wanker just goes ahead and calls me daddy? Who the fuck says anything like that?” he couldn’t help the edge of bitterness that came to his voice.

“And I get it, I get that he wanted to piss me off make me the bad person but he did that in front of the people I care about and I just--” he trailed off shaking his head because if there was one thing that Fane couldn’t stand it was being jibed and humiliated. Humiliation took him back to a dark mindset, one he’d spoken only to Faye regarding and it was a long rabbit hole to try and climb back out of. “That happening in front of you all?” Fane’s eyes were growing a little bleary right then and he just tucked his arms tighter around him “it’s my worst nightmare Faye” and he wasn’t trying to be overdramatic, because this was simply a fact. “I’ve spent so long trying to piece who I am back together, to make sense of whatever I had left after Unsterblich” the German word slid off his tongue, leaving him feeling chilled and hollowed out “but-- all it takes is something like that, an experience like that, humiliation in front of people I’ve only ever wanted to protect and--” and he was left questioning what the point in even trying was. His hand dropped from his arm and he looked down at the ring sat on his finger, thumbing it around the digit slowly the metal stone cold and the only protection he had between existence and the void. Why even try when it would quite clearly never be enough for any of those he loved. No doubt it was just a matter of time before something happened and it was Faye he was disappointing. Eowyn he was disappointing. He’d already done it with Dani, now with Maya. It was just a matter of god damn time wasn’t it? A loaded gun just waiting to be fired.

All he wanted was to be enough, but who wanted a toy once it was broken? Once the original shine and attraction of it was gone and only the base left behind.

The thing was, what had happened back when Ryden and he had first encountered one another. The events had scared him. More than he was willing to admit to anyone, even himself, but it had also kick started the realisation that things could happen and they could die at any moment. So Faye’s small stifled sob, while it upset him Fane knew he had to be honest even if baring his soul left him feeling pathetic and foolish for even being this way. He should’ve been better than this, shouldn’t be so pathetic and get so upset over something that to anyone else would be trivial. Yet this was how it went, he spun himself up to such a point that he couldn’t help but feel like a mess afterwards to feel like seventy years meant nothing at all. The tightness of Faye’s hand clutching his shirt, and the weight of her head against his chest did little to ease the ramrod posture he’d adopted. “How could I?” he murmured, “I knew how you’d react, and I didn’t want to make things worse…” he trailed off as Faye drew back and he could see the searching look in her eyes, knew what she was looking for. But he’d been mindful not to do anything so strenuous that it sent his back spasming, not wishing to worry her unnecessarily about something he could manage. “I’m fine,” he told her quietly, an achy back wasn’t much to complain about in light of how bad it could have been and finally after an age he started to move. Slipping his arms around her and letting his chin to fall onto her shoulder. “Don’t. I don’t want to make this worse for Maya…” how he felt had done enough damage as it was, the least he could do was try to stop some of the consequential fall out.

It wasn’t either woman’s relationship, former or current, with Ryden that had truly mattered. That had just been the icing on the cake really. A man that had done grievous, nearly fatal, harm - whether he remembered it or not, whether it was magically influenced or not - to Fane had insulted him in front of his family. Had caused the upset of someone Fane loved. In the most crass and unapologetic way possible. Faye could be petty, she would be the first one to say so. And she could fling nasty, hateful insults with the best of them. But not in front of innocents. And while Dani and Maya’s involvement might not be completely that - Fane hadn’t known about either relationship, though he usually took a fairly lax approach to his family’s love life, providing things were kosher - the beef was between Fane and Ryden. It should have stayed between Fane and Ryden. And Faye could follow that same slippery path, say that if it had just been the two men talking things would have been very different. If it had just been Ryden running his mouth off at Fane where no one else could hear… well, Fane might be minus a whole lot of anxiety and guilt, and Ryden would be minus a few teeth. An even trade, in Faye’s opinion.

But that wasn’t what happened.

What happened was just about the worst thing that could happen. And the fact that Ryden had seen… Ryden had figured it out and kept doing it? Well, bullies, regardless of age or species, or if they were a foot taller than her and outweighed her by at least a hundred pounds, pissed her right the fuck off. She had never tolerated them, and she wasn’t about to start now. They would chat, her and Ryden Bolt. Soon enough.

But right now her attention and concern was for Fane. Because they’d come so far… so far from all the malingering doubt and lack of self-worth. So far from the pain and anger and mistrust that the traumas of their pasts had left them with. And all it took was a few well-placed words in front of the right people to set things back months. Maybe more. Faye didn’t blame Fane for any of it. Not for one second. She knew he was probably thinking that what he felt didn’t matter. That feeling lost, or anxious, or even hopeless was wrong. That what he felt was petty. Irrational. And that he had to somehow justify any of those feelings. Fane didn’t have to explain anything to anyone. Not even to her if he didn’t want. Faye didn’t need it. If he said he felt that way, then she would accept it, and do her best to help and support him however she could.

What was wrong was thinking that no one could see it. That no one cared. That he didn’t matter.

And Faye didn’t think Maya would appreciate Fane harming himself for her, whether emotionally or otherwise. He’d done it once, when the two of them had gone to Salem to save Maya from Shaw. Ryden was hardly a murderous psychopath, but harm had been done nonetheless. And like the creeping pain of a festering wound, the damage would linger, leaving scars. Faye wasn’t sure how many more scars they could hold and still remain whole.

Faye pulled back to look up at him, her expression set firm. It was only his obvious turmoil that kept her voice soft. Because harshness wouldn’t help. She didn’t have it in her besides. Not for him. Never for him. “What you feel is never irrelevant. And I’ll keep sayin’ that until one day you believe it.” She shook her head slightly. “The universe doesn’t…” Faye sighed, because belief in Fate was one thing. Faye believed. Fane… not so much. But thinking that every bad thing that happened was because of some grand design, some universal ‘fuck you buddy,’ wasn’t something Faye gave creedance too. But again, that didn’t make Fane’s feelings over the matter any less important.

Faye started again. “Sometimes shit happens for no other reason that people are fuckin’ assholes. That kid… he’s a kid. Doesn’t excuse him,” she clarified firmly. “Doesn’t make it any better… or lessen the pain that comes with what he did. Or what he said. Ignorance, or simply not givin’ a fuck, doesn’t excuse bad behavior. But baby…” Faye squeezed his arm. “...you are not an idiot for carin’ about your family. For goin’ into a situation where…” Faye shook her head again. “... where you had no idea what you might find. Where you already knew he would probably be hostile. And yet you held back when he started slingin’ shit. That’s bein’ the bigger person. Hard as it is to see right now.” She pet his arm, trying to loosen some of the tension there. “He latched onto the one thing he knew would get under your skin,” she agreed gently.

“The people that love you don’t care what other people say. I don’t. Wyn doesn’t. I think Maya and Dani can think for themselves as well.” But she knew that wasn’t the real crux of the issue. That the audience was coincidental, and while it didn’t make it any better - it actually made it worse in this case - once again, the issue was much, much larger than Fane’s family hearing some asshole kid get a few words in edgewise. And the thing was… Faye was the only other person that knew why. Because in almost eighty years, she was only other person in Fane’s life that knew what had happened to him. That knew the source of so much of his anxiety, of so many of his fears and uncertainties. Of the terrible scars that littered his body. A body that shouldn’t be able to scar, but had. Along with his psyche.

“I know it is… I know…” He kept speaking, so Faye grew quiet, standing there with him and trying to keep him somewhat grounded to now. The last time they’d talked about this…she’d nearly lost him. It had only been the grace of moonlight instead of sun that had kept that from happening. The German word made her shiver, the way he said it so easily, so flatly, spoke to how familiar he once was with it. Her eyes tracked the movement of his hand, the glint of the stone in his ring catching the fading light. Her hand reached out and gripped his tightly, the edges of the band cutting into Faye’s palm. She only squeezed tighter. Let it hurt. “Don’t…” It was both a plea for himself, to not go down that path again, and a plea for herself as well. Because she couldn’t lose him again. She wouldn’t survive it. That wasn’t dramatics on her part. It was truth. Because how could she live without the other half of her soul?

“You survived…” she started slowly. “What no one should have been able to survive. Vampire or not. You survived things that… people can’t even imagine. It’s beyond their comprehension. And they will never understand. Even me. Even after all you’ve told me, I can never truly understand what it was like for you. I’ve been Purged before, you’ve seen it. I’ve been… tortured and… hurt. Because they could. Because they wanted things they couldn’t get without me. But none of that is anything close to what you’ve been through.” Her fingers squeezed his hand even tighter. “You have every right in this world to feel the way you do when something reminds you of that time. That trauma… baby, those months you spent there should’ve broken you completely. But they didn’t. You’re still a good man. You’re still a kind man. A man who only wants to help people. And you’re an amazing father to all our kids. And the only man in this world I could ever want for my partner. For my companion in this world and the next. For my husband.” The word sounded… strange. But it felt… warm on Faye’s tongue as she said it. Like him calling her his wife, Faye might never say it out loud again, but right now it was the truth.

He was enough. He was always enough. And a broken toy only meant that it was well-loved. Even if pieces fell off here and there, and it was patched up, a bit of tape or glue, or a stitch added here and there to hold it together, it wasn’t something you’d ever forget. Or leave behind. It might not be bright and shiny and new, but the best things in life usually weren’t. Other than perhaps a newborn baby. And even then, a child grows up, and only becomes more beloved with time.

Faye shook her head as he murmured his answer, even though she already known what it would be. He stayed tense beneath her hand, and she knew it was because he was still trying to protect himself. It was a defense mechanism, not from her, but from the results of everything that had pushed him to that point. But she didn’t loosen her hold, because it wasn’t trivial to her. It wasn’t pathetic. It was a response conditioned by months of abuse and inhuman torture at the hands of a psychopath. Months of being experimented on, treated like less than an animal. Months of being cut to pieces and put back together again. Fane’s responses to certain things were well-earned. And while others might not understand because they had no context, Faye knew. She knew, and for as long as she lived, she would never ever forget. Because it was hers to carry now as well, that horrible burden of knowing. But at least Fane didn’t have to do it alone anymore. He didn’t have to do any of it alone.

Faye continued the slow strokes of her hand. “Knowin’ the truth… no matter how awful… is better than wonderin’. And you never lied… I know that, I do…” she said, in case for some reason he thought she doubted his honesty, which she didn’t.

“But… if it had been me that-” Faye’s voice broke, and she couldn’t even make herself say the words. ‘Almost died.’ It simply wouldn’t come out. “- and I didn’t tell you the details because I didn’t want you to worry? I always worry about you, love. Every day. When we’re together. When we’re apart. It’s just part of… this. Part of bein’ a family. We always worry, even when we probably shouldn’t.”

Only when he said he was fine did Faye’s voice find any bite. “Don’t,” she said again, just as she had when he fiddled with his daylight charm. “No more bullshit. I’ve got a damn good imagination, and me tryin’ to suss out what could’ve… nearly done that to you…” She shook her head. “Truth will worry me a lot less than assumin’. I know you don’t heal well, baby, and you shouldn’t have to suffer if I can help.”

When he finally loosened and wrapped his arms around her, Faye folded him up. She held him tight, turning her face into the warm smell of his hair. For a long time, she simply held him. The thoughts flying through her head that there had been a very real possibility that this moment would’ve never happened. That she could’ve lost him. Permanently. It would have been the end of their story, and Faye wasn’t ready for that. Not by a long shot. She would never be ready.

Her voice was muffled against his neck when she spoke. “I won’t hurt him,” she promised. “But I am gonna have a chat with him.” Fane wasn’t the only one who wanted to protect their family, after all.

Surprising what a few specific words, in the right place at the right time could do. Whoever had said that words didn’t hurt, that they were fleeting things surely didn’t understand the capacity words held to crush you, turn you to dust under their weight. To drown you, as though abandoned in the middle of an ocean created by your own tears from the harm they could inflict. Words could be the most beautiful and the absolute most loathsome thing in all of existence capable of leaving a lasting mark on their victims.

Could you truly forgive without forgetting?

Could you ever find a way to smile without grinding your teeth?

Fane wasn’t sure what he wanted from all of this, all he knew was that the damage had been done and he was tired. Tired of feeling like he had to justify the things he felt to other people when all he wanted was to keep the things sealed up tight, but to get them to understand it was necessary to dig the knife in deep and pry those words out. Whether they wanted to go or not. So what did it matter if he bled more in the meantime, he’d find a way to patch himself up and tesselate the fragments back together in some semblance of an orderly pattern. To make himself presentable once more. So long as everyone else was happy then that was what mattered wasn’t it? Don’t disturb the water, keep the peace and all that, right? So as Faye once more tried to debate the fact that it wasn’t irrelevant he could only look at her tiredly, hearing but the words didn’t really sink home. Not today. Not right now mostly because he was in no particular state to feel ready to receive them. Whatever the case was, Fane felt rather inclined to believe there was some general universal conspiracy going on or at least some cosmic joke of which he was the punch line.

Fane stood still as Faye squeezed his arms, his typically bright eyes dimmer than they usually were and his mood clearly still down in the dumps. “Didn’t I? I should’ve thought about what going over there would do but I just went ahead didn’t I?” it didn’t matter how Faye spun it, this was his fault one way or another. “I ruined a perfectly good day and for what?” though he merely made a low noise as Faye remarked that Ryden had used the one thing that he knew would get under Fane’s skin. Of course he had and it had worked. Too well. Which perhaps in turn spoke volumes about Ryden himself. But Faye was right. The fact Maya and Dani heard wasn’t the issue at hand, it was the generally public nature of it all combined with the story that only she knew. The rippling consequences that came with specific traumatic events.

Fane had no intention of taking the ring off, the fidgeting and spinning of it in the light only another little habit of his when he wasn’t feeling so securely grounded in a moment. Just another of so many little habits of his. But the suddenly sharp pressure and squeeze of her hands over his own caused him to look up at her sharply and a fraction startled by the vehemency of it. “I wasn’t--” but she started to talk, to remind him of the fact that he had come out the other side of all of this stumbling but still somehow on his feet and his eyes lowered to where she gripped his hands her knuckles practically turning white under the force of her hold. The intensity with which she spoke startled him, and he wasn’t sure he could look her in the eye without letting everything he felt presently wash him away. When Faye called him her husband, his lip quivered and he had to swallow back the noise that threatened to leave him blinking hard as his vision started to grow a little bleary. God he hated crying, so much, but it was hard not to with the flare of warmth and sudden pride he had about hearing her say those things about him. God he felt like a mess so he sniffled a bit, wiping his eyes but it didn’t help all that much.

“I know, I’m sorry-- I just, you know I don’t want you to worry” he said quietly when she told him worrying was a part of this, it was a part of caring so much he knew but he didn’t want to make it worse. Didn’t want Faye to go seeking people out because she felt compelled to add her two cents to the matter and get involved in something that hadn’t involved her initially. But it was also part of what he loved about her. His attempts to reassure her were cut off. Sharp and promptly and his mouth shut just as fast. “I told you, the car wrecked… I was fighting him, he bailed out and my legs were caught inside the cabin…. Lid was off so I got ragdolled over the windscreen” he shrugged the rest rather self-explanatory trying to keep his voice matter of fact but it was hard to do that considering remembering what had happened just brought about the memory of the pain and fear that came with everything that had happened. What he really didn’t want to say was that he’d temporarily ended up paralysed as a consequence of the crash and had to deal with the anxiety that came with waking up and not being able to feel anything from the waist down.

So he was happier when Faye turned her face into his chest, and his arms secured themselves around her squeezing her tightly. “Please don’t make it any worse…” he mumbled into her hair where his mouth was pressed to her braids “Maya’s already mad at me… I don’t want to give her more reason to be mad at you too…”

Eventually, you had to think of your own happiness. Faye had told Fane this before. Other people weren’t going to stop living their lives, or start putting aside what they wanted to make sure others were happy. To make sure Fane was always happy. Faye would, of course. But that was different. Their relationship was built on that: on each of them wanting nothing but the others happiness and safety. But neither of them expected the other to give up what they wanted either.

Mostly Faye referenced the long-lingering situation between Fane and Dani. When such things were spoken of. Which wasn’t all that often. It had been discussed, and their feelings were known, so Faye didn’t see the point of rehashing something that was painful just for the sake of it. Because she had things she didn’t like talking about either. Things that she buried deep down inside where they could almost be forgotten. Until they weren’t. Until something brought them back into the light, clawing and screaming, and bloodying anything in their path.

So Faye did understand. In part. At least when it came to the pain associated with having to speak about things you’d rather forget. She could see the weariness in his eyes, the way her words simply had no room to affect him right now. “Did you go over there with the intent to start a fight? No. That’s not who you are. That’s… more my area,” she said, trying anything to lighten the mood just a bit. “And you didn’t ruin anything. The day was amazing. One bad incident - and okay yeah it… sucked majorly - but one bad incident doesn’t negate all the good.” She wasn’t making light of what had happened, she was simply trying to find some sort of bright side. Or some shade of light gray in all the dark.

But when she gripped his hand so tightly, not letting him get a word in before she was off again, it was because the mere notion of him taking off his ring was Faye’s fear come to light. It was a trigger that reminded her of that night in the swamp, when she’d found him kneeling in the mud without the only thing protecting him from becoming a pile of ash. Faye had never been more scared in all her life. Because it could have all ended right there. Among the reeds and the frogs and the calls of the nightbirds. All because Faye had kept something from him. Something that had led to the conversation about his own past. Which led to the flight into the swamp. To fear and agony so great it had caused him to question whether or not living on was even worth it.

She had told him she loved him less than a day later.

When her words finally seemed to get past his armor, Faye didn’t let up. Because she meant every single one of them. And Christ she hated to see him cry, to see his emotions laid bare, flayed and raw… but she couldn’t back down now, not when she was finally making ground. “I know you don’t,” she told him, drawing her fingers through his hair. And talking to Ryden wasn’t about adding her two cents, though she would definitely let him know how she felt. It was about protecting her family. Because what happened to one of them happened to all of them. It was about letting people know that there were lines that they were not allowed to cross. That there was treatment that would not be tolerated. Because Faye did not negotiate when it came to her family.

And it was also about respect. Something which this boy didn’t seem to have much of. And if he said he didn’t remember the accident… well, Faye had a remedy for that as well. He would remember everything. With absolute clarity.

She listened as Fane went on to explain in a bit more detail what had happened. Faye couldn’t help the way her eyes closed, the way she held onto him just a bit harder. The images it conjured up in her mind were… they were horrible. But she listened, taking in every word, the way he had to physically make himself speak. Christ… for him to have nearly died from an injury like that he would’ve had to nearly cut himself in two. Or… break his back…

A small sound of anguish left her, and her grip on him would probably have been painful to most anyone else. Though it was released suddenly as she pulled back to look him over. Though his clothes prevented the sort of inspection Faye wanted to give him. She knew all his scars, all his marks, every inch of him intimately. If there was something new, she would find it when she looked close enough.

But she suddenly felt very, very tired herself, and leaned on him a bit. She wanted nothing more than to take him inside and wrap him up in her bed, to keep him safe forever. “I won’t make it worse. I promise. But he has to know what almost happened. He has to understand.”

Her comments about who the confrontational was in their relationship drew a small though still presently tight smile from him but it still didn’t quite light up his features. But it was something which had to count for something at least. Still, he didn’t have all that much to say considering Faye kept him silenced with the insistent and impassioned way she spoke not to mention the constant tight grip of her hands around his own. He knew why. Of course he did, and his eyes dropped a little the fact he’d worried her so only adding to the pile of guilt that he felt presently weighing him down. He’d done this to her. Of course he had.

But he also remembered what those events had brought about, had been a beginning for the both of them. A beginning that had led them to this very spot and so far from their own demons.

That didn’t mean to say he felt comfortable with the way she continued to insist, his armour had cracked and she had found the join and pushed through. But he also had to remind himself that she was only doing this because she only wanted and sought the very best for him. For their family. And while he would have agreed if she had said about the concept of lines and respect he could only hug her tight like the lifeline she had fast grown to be. And as much as he wanted to hold on, she suddenly wrenched back and Fane was left feeling almost entirely undressed by the scrutiny in how her eyes travelled over him. He knew what she wanted, and an old layer of self-consciousness was dredged up by it. So as she leaned back on him Fane sought out her hand, fingers twineing themselves around her own. “Just-- don’t upset Maya--” the thought of the young woman brought back a sharp stab of guilt as he tugged on Faye’s hand to get them moving, slowly making the walk back up to the cottage needing the peace but also aware of the fact he wouldn’t get away without letting Faye look over him. Better to rip the plaster off fast than try to peel it back slowly.

His smile was good, small as it was. Faye would take it. It meant he wasn’t completely off in his head with his demons. Mired down, yes, but not stuck completely. Which was why she kept pushing firmly but gently forwards. With her words, with her grip on his hands, with her reminders of how far they’d come. Because as scary as it had been, as terrified as she’d been - both of losing him and also of telling him how she truly felt, that she loved him… had loved him for a long time - Faye wouldn’t give it up because it had brought them here. Together. A pair of shoulders to carry the burdens life had given them. Would she spare the pain? Of course. She would always spare him pain as much as she could, just as he would her. But the experience had to happen. Else how would they have known how much they meant to each other?

Faye knew (mostly) how much to push Fane and for how long. Right now he was reaching his limit. She could see it in his expression before he bent down to hold her tight. They stood for a bit, simply grounding themselves in each other, Faye holding on for as long as was needed. “I won’t. I promise,” she said again, closing her eyes and pressing a kiss to the closest bit of skin. Her fingers twined with his and she softened, the tense lines falling out of her stance as he pulled her back towards the cottage. They walked quietly back over the sand, following their earlier footsteps, some of which had been washed away by the water. Hands entwined, Faye knew he wasn’t thrilled with the idea of letting her look him over, and she wouldn’t linger to the point of making him more anxious. But she had to know. Had to see. Had to add any new scars to the atlas of his body that she knew by heart. That she knew by touch alone. That she could close her eyes and see with absolute clarity.

A bit later, and they were in the quiet confines of her bedroom. The babysitter had been sent home, Faye thanking her for staying and letting her know she’d call if they needed her. Faye didn’t worry about the mess. She couldn’t care one whit about the clothes strewn over the floor, the drawers hanging open, the messiness that had frightened her at first, until she’d realized what had happened. Messes could be straightened. Clothes folded. Drawers closed and tidied. But hearts… minds… bodies… souls… once touched, whether with tenderness or otherwise, they would always bear the marks. Fane’s heart and soul bore more than most. Not just because of his age, or his experiences, but because he felt things so incredibly deeply. With a breadth and depth that most people couldn’t fathom. Let alone experience for themselves. And while Fane might have said he was no different than any other person, to Faye he was. He was very different. Capable of being kind, being gentle, of loving with everything he had, even after the world had at one time left him broken and bare and hollow.

And that was only one of an infinite number of reasons why she loved him.

They stood there in the low light of Faye’s bedroom, and she knew this wasn’t easy for him. This scrutiny of the marks that covered his body. But she also knew he would most likely do the same if it had been her. Needing affirmation that things were truly alright. Though her body scarred more easily than his own. She started slowly, closing her eyes as her hands crept up his arms to his shoulders. Her fingers slid over his angular form, out over the curve of his deltoid and down his bicep, pausing to curve around the back to the long triceps muscle before continuing down. Over the scars on his forearm, the fang marks that he’d chosen, and the mark that had once been a line of numbers that he hadn’t. She didn’t linger, just a fluttering touch that followed the map in her mind. Closing her eyes was more for him than for her. She hoped it would help ease some of his anxiety, to help him not feel so self-conscious. And perhaps to reassure him that she knew him even without the use of her eyes. It wasn’t showing off on her part. It wasn’t to impress him. It wasn’t for any other purpose besides reconnecting and reassuring. On both their parts.

“I see you, love… even in the dark, I see you…”

There was something to be said about being able to trust someone so fully with yourself in a fashion such as this. To know you could count on them to help you carry burdens that had for so long simply been shouldered alone because just as he’d told himself, it was better that way. Better that he didn’t weigh someone else down by the horrors and misdeeds that he had lived through, that he had survived because he had never wished to burden anyone with those horrors. Why would he? That sort of trauma was not something you idly went about sharing with every other person in the nearest vicinity because it would simply be cruel in his opinion and in all honesty he didn’t want the sympathy or the pity it might bring about. But with Faye, it wasn’t pity she gave him, it was the support and strength in knowing there was someone out there who was willing to help, to listen about things he hadn’t been willing to talk about for decades. And that didn’t mean she understood, not entirely, but it didn’t change the fact that after it was all said and done, she would offer a hand to hold to help him through the darkness.

But it never made it easy in instances such as this, because Fane wasn’t sure whether there would or wouldn’t be a mark after what had happened. Though if the lingering ache in his back was any suggestion it was that something still wasn’t entirely right even now. This was, unfortunately, inevitable and she was right that had the tables been reversed he would have insisted to be allowed to do the same so, after taking a stilling breath to settle himself Fane stood in the middle of the floor while Faye slowly began her process of examination.

The track of her fingers was a slow progress, and Fane had to remind himself not to shift too much as her hands trailed up and down, back and forth slowly over the skin of his arms, over the scars and bumps that had accumulated over the years of several lifetimes. While she did that, he watched her face closely, looking for any particular sign of discomfort or upset in what she might find on his skin even if almost all of it was something she had seen or touched before. But the fact she had closed her eyes, that she had memorised his skin like it was a familiar roadmap caused an odd warmth to bloom in his chest and settle in his eyes not that she could see. It settled some of the unease and uncertainty he had about letting her do this, and as her fingers started to move slowly higher he eventually took a moment to ease off his shirt so that she might be able to inspect his torso. His shoulder still sat unevenly in comparison to the other, sloping down severely by comparison where it had failed to heal correctly all those years ago the truncated scar around the humeral head circumferencing his entire arm still rough and raised compared to the smooth skin around it. He didn’t say anything to her words, there was no need for them presently and so Fane let her continue down his torso. However, it was when she bid him to turn that a fraction of tension re-entered his body the uncertainty present about what she might find returning subconsciously and making him feel just that little bit wary once again.

Eventually, he pulled his shirt off, knowing it was needed without her even asking. She traced the scar that had almost killed him, the wound left by a knife laced with vervain that had nearly pierced his heart. There she lingered for just a moment, laying her palm flat over the mark. Over the unbeating heart beneath. What would it feel like, she wondered from time to time, to feel it thrumming in his chest. Would it have raced under her touch? Would it have skipped a beat sometimes when he looked at her, like her own did for him? Would he flush when she kissed him? They were just idle thoughts, as she wondered about what he had been like as a human. She wouldn’t change him for anything. To her, he was perfect as he was. Scars and all.

Faye could feel his eyes on her face, even with her eyes closed. She could always feel it when he was watching her. Like a warm prickle at the base of her spine. It was comforting to be able to feel him, even when they weren’t close to each other. Eventually, he turned, allowing her to inspect his back. She could feel the offset angle of his shoulder on his injured side, sitting lower than the other. The scar tissue ridged and textured slightly different than the surrounding skin. There were the claw marks in his side, and the thin line incision scar down his back. It was this that Faye traced last, starting at the base of his skull and running her fingers down over the ridge of his vertabrae. His back arched inward slightly as she felt thoracic spine that dipped towards his lumbar. It was here that her fingers stopped, finding a divot that wasn’t there before. A small huff of air was exhaled through her nose, and finally she opened her eyes to map the new mark on his body. For such a horrible accident, it was a small thing. Compared to other scars he carried. But sometimes that was all it took. Something tiny. To change everything.

She stroked her fingers over it, wondering at the damage still lingering inside him. But her touch moved away from the mark and turned to something more gently affectionate. She wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her mouth to his shoulder. “Does it hurt?” she asked quietly, knowing it most likely did. “I’ve got something that may help if it does.”

During the silence Fane wondered what was going through her head, and in this occasion he rather wished she could’ve shared with him so that he might know her thoughts more intimately. It might have helped ease him more, but as it was Fane didn’t and he could only stand and wonder as Faye slowly mapped out old marks she was long since familiar with. His gaze on her was familiar, intense as it was but only because of the passion, care and consideration he held for her alone. Looks that could convey a thousand more things than words ever could. The pressure of her hand and trail of her fingers was warm on his skin and Fane was quiet as she progressed from his chest, up over his shoulder before beckoning him to turn which he did, slowly.

The final choice of her explanation drew a involuntary shiver from him and a part of him was inclined to draw away from her but he stood still, letting her trace down and down until she reached the divot in his back. Small and seemingly insignificant, but something that had been giving him trouble for the past few weeks with anything too overly strenuous. It had healed well enough and the pain wasn’t unbearable but it didn’t mean it didn’t ache more often than not. So, as her fingers brushed over it again a small amount of tension went through him though it eased as her fingers moved away from the sensitive area and he felt the warm press of her lips against his skin the wrap of her arms comforting after everything. “It’s not bad,” he said honestly “it’s just a bit-- uh, achy really...”

She knew touching the scars was something he wouldn’t have allowed many others to do. That just the stimulation alone could bring back memories that would make him tense and anxious. Which is why she didn’t linger. Even over the new mark. Though it was a testament to how much he trusted her, to how much they understood about the other. Fane understanding Faye and her need to make sure he was truly alright, and Faye understanding his own need for the physical signs of his vulnerability to not be lingered over or made a big deal of.

He shivered beneath her, and she knew she might be pushing the limits of what he was able to stand there for tonight. So she stopped, the new mark committed to memory along with the others, and sought only to comfort him after that. Not pity. Not sympathy. Merely a shoulder to lay his head on, a hand to hold. Through whatever they had to face. “You wanna lay down? I’ve got a warming salve that would probably feel good. Take some of the tenseness out? So you can rest better.”

Faye knew by her own experience with her own scars, which she kept glamoured from the world save for a select few the intimate level of trust required to allow someone else to touch them. So once she was done with her inspection and moved on from that before finally finishing up and retracting her hands he remained quiet. Though the offer of something to help earned a small nod, “if you have something you think would help,” he wouldn’t be opposed, it wasn’t frightful but it was a little bothersome and after the morning and early afternoon they had had the treatment wouldn’t really go amiss. “I’ll need to go talk to Maya in a bit,” he said knowing his guilt about the day would only linger until he had a chance to speak with her.

“I do,” Faye nodded. “I’ll have to run up to the attic to get it. Takes a few minutes to work. Might take a bit longer since you don’t have the bloodflow to help it circulate quite as fast.” His vampirism was both a blessing and a curse, though only in the sense that the life he had chosen, the being he had chosen to become, had been warped by the twisted desires of a madman. Leaving him in a sort of limbo between invulnerable (regular vampire health hazards aside) and taking on lasting harm.

And as much as Faye wished he could stay and rest, she knew Maya was still out there feeling… Faye didn’t know. But as always, their family came before their own personal wishes. “I know. Lie down for just a bit though? You’ll have to anyway, so I can apply it.” She touched his arm once more before heading up to her spell room to find the ceramic jar of salve. Not hard to make, it was infused with a few things that helped with tight muscles and aching joints. It helped increase circulation, warming slowly after application. Faye used it on her hip sometimes, when it ached in the winter, or bothered her any other time.

Coming back to the bedroom, she sat gently beside him where he was laid prone by now. She popped the corked top off the jar, and the fresh smell of mint and lavender wafted out. Faye scooped a bit onto her fingers, sliding closer before rubbing it slowly into his skin. “Might tingle a bit, but it should start to warm up soon. Let me know if I hurt you, hm? Or if it’s not in the right spot…”

As much as Fane would have liked to stay and let Faye take care of him presently his mind was on Maya and the need to go and ensure that she was okay. But right now he did as she bid him to, knowing that there was absolutely no point in trying to argue or reason that he shouldn’t be wasting his time when Maya was no doubt upset somewhere in town. He felt bad enough for leaving her anyways, but lingering wouldn’t have done much to help either. So he loosened the belt a little so that his jeans rode lower on his hips exposing more of his back before he crawled onto the bed and settled on the mattress.

By the time that Faye had returned, Fane had managed to relax a little bit arms crossed and pillowed under his head his feet hanging off the edge of the bed for the sake of comfort. He felt the dip of the bed as she joined him again and let his eyes drift closed as she started to work the salve into his skin. It felt a little cold at first, and there was a slight sense of tingling -- almost like a dulled pins and needles under the areas she applied it. It took awhile, but eventually it started to warm “you can probably work a bit harder” he advised knowing if it hurt too much he’d let her know but suffice to say it felt good. The warmth of the salve and her hands causing him to groan contently, maybe he needed this more than he had cared to admit.

Faye wasn’t going to keep him. But Maya wasn’t running off like she had once before. She was hurt and upset, but she wasn’t running away. Fane had time. Time to assure that he wasn’t in pain while he tried to sort things out between the two of them. Pain was a distraction, and Faye knew he was good at pushing it down and ignoring it, but why? When she could very easily help?

Satisfied when he agreed, she set to work and soon her hands moved in a familiar pattern over the muscles of his lower back. She pressed firmly but gently with her fingertips, massaging the salve into the muscle. The balls of her hands followed the curve of his back up and back down, and then moved out over his hips. When he said she could do more, Faye increased the pressure of her hands, leaning a bit of her weight into it in order to reach the deeper tissue. “Christ… you’re full of knots,” she commented quietly, moving to her knees. The salve was set to work on his injury, so she moved up a bit, working the leftovers on her hands into the rest of his back and shoulders. “I haven’t done this often enough recently… ‘s why you’re all bunched up.” It wasn’t a personal dig at herself. It was just a statement.

“Feel okay?” she asked, even though she’d heard him groan a bit before.

While Fane knew that Maya wasn’t so likely to vanish off it didn’t mean that he still didn’t worry about her, while she was an adult and had been forced to grow up at such a young age there was no helping the part of him that wanted this to be a place where she didn’t have to worry. A place she could be happy, and there was a lingering worry that this would consequently drive her away somehow and until he spoke to her, assured himself that wouldn’t be the case he would continue to worry.

The pressure of her palms and fingers working into the knots and tight spots in his back caused him to let out a long sigh of contentment. “Mm, I wouldn’t be against you doing this more often” he said tensing a little as she hit a particularly tight spot but almost immediately relaxing once it was worked through. “Been neglecting me,” he mumbled, voice muffled by the way his face was pressed into his arm.

“Mm, yeah” he answered a few moments after she asked, the attention and consequence of everything today making him feel particularly tired.

“That could probably be arranged.” Faye didn’t mind taking care of him like this at all. He could use it, even if he wouldn’t necessarily admit it out loud. It was almost funny in a way, how each of them sought to take care of the other, to make sure they ate and took the time to get sorted when something hurt or when they were ill or injured. But they could tend towards not thinking about themselves in return. Like when Faye would come home limping from spending a long day in heels during class, her hip aching, but immediately got caught up in what needed to be done around the house instead of taking time to fix her discomfort. Fane could always tell, and made sure she was seen to before it got too bad.

“You are pretty pitiful,” she said with a slow smile at his comment about neglect. “Guess I’ll have to make it up to you, won’t I?” She eased a bit as he tensed, pressing a bit softer, but not letting up completely as the small knot worked it’s way loose. She lingered for a moment, babying the spot before letting her hand curve down over his ribs and back up. The smell of the lavender and mint was soothing, and Faye felt her own tenseness relaxing a bit as she worked so methodically over the long lines of Fane’s back.

His confirmation was met with a small hum of her own. She leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder. “Sleep if you want. I’ll wake you in a bit.” He might not want to, but the offer was there regardless. Faye had no problem staying awake if he wanted a catnap before setting off after Maya.

“Do we need to arrange payment in advance?” he questioned barely moving an inch save for the occasional slight adjustment as he lay there letting her continue any attentions she wished to do. Their way of looking after one another just another display of how well they seemed to know one another, even when Fane questioned why Faye even bothered with the heels to class. He’d lost track of the amount of times he’d asked why not just wear flats? As he got her to sit down so that he could rub her feet and take out some of the soreness that came with such a time in heels.

“Mhm, very very pitiful need lots of tending ‘n’ caring” he agreed knowing they were both mostly just messing around. His shoulders relaxed as the knot was worked out and the slow, deliberate stroke of her hand caused him to make a low noise of approval, though whether it was from interest or from genuine relief wasn’t quite so easy to pinpoint. He was already practically dozing by the time she leaned down to kiss his shoulder, and god it was so tempting. “Need t’see Maya,” his words were a little slow, on the edge of sleep “mm-- half ‘n’ hour?” It would be enough, and then he’d have to get up and go and see her but the warmth of the salve was too nice for him to want to take it off right this moment hence why he was, for once, lenient in agreeing with the suggestion.

“Case by case basis. Pay as you go.” She smiled down at him, her expression soft and full of affection and love. It fell back to her work for a bit, and Faye couldn’t help thinking that he deserved so much better than what the world had given him. So much better than all the terrible things that had happened over the years. Though there wasn’t any changing it now. All she could do was give him the best she had, which on some days honestly didn’t feel like much. But she would give it anyway. She would give him anything. All he had to do was ask.

“‘Course it does,” she murmured, hands moving towards more of an affectionate petting now that he was so relaxed. “We’ll get it sorted, don’t worry.” The more she worked, the further he drifted, which is why she suggested a short rest before letting him fall all the way asleep. She didn’t want him worrying over having drifted off without knowing.

“I know. Just half an hour though. Promise. It’ll be good for you. Be easier to talk things out when you’re rested.” Not one to look the proverbial gift horse - especially one from a man as stubborn as Fane - in the mouth, Faye set her phone to go off in thirty minutes and scooted towards the head of the bed. She pulled a soft throw up over him, and moved to petting his hair. “Go to sleep, love. ‘M here. “M not goin’ nowhere…”

“M’kay, trust you” his voice was softer now the affectionate touches only serving to help encourage the sleep that up until now he’d been trying to push off. But maybe she was right, maybe a nap wouldn’t hurt right now after everything. So when he was given the assurance of half an hour, and only half an hour he mumbled something that was rather inaudible under his breath that a little while longer of petting sent him drifting off allowing Faye to tuck him up as he passed out on his front. He’d go and see Maya after this, try to figure something out but for now he was content in the darkness of slumber.

[pb1138]

Faded to be Together, Ch. 2 “The Road”

Ch. 1

Though she was careful to keep her face free of the emotions running rampant through her, Anders could tell Alena was terrified. Every step she took seemed more difficult than the last despite the fact they were going downhill. As they grew nearer the interior of the village, he could practically feel the panic rising within her. They paused just before the last hill took them down, and he allowed her to drag him over to a water wheel, tucked away from prying eyes. “It’ll be difficult to get past the Chantry in these clothes,” she hissed.

Anders took a moment to appraise them before nodding. There was no way they could pass either set of robes off as being just fancy dress. Any Templar worth his salt would spot them a mile away. “You’re right. What do you suggest?”

She thought for a moment, her hand rubbing her arm. “There’s a house across the way. I obviously don’t know if anyone lives there anymore, but there’s a chance we might find clothes there. If we can’t…” She allowed herself another moment to think before nodding. “The hill by the house is steep as all get out, but we can slip down it and take the way behind the blacksmith’s.”

Anders nodded and gave her an encouraging smile. “Both very good ideas. Let’s head on then, shall we?” He allowed her to lead them across the bridge that led past the waterfall, and he had to wonder how it hadn’t rotted from water damage.

The house was a bust. No clothesline hung outside, and a quick glance in the window told them that someone was home. Safer to go unnoticed as long as possible, they decided not to risk the confrontation and instead set about getting down the hill. She was right—it was steep. It was difficult to leverage themselves against the gravity, the whole way down feeling more like falling than anything. Thankfully, the blacksmith had clothes set outside to dry, so they made quick work changing and stuffed their robes in Anders’s pack. Once Anders had finished changing, he glanced over at Alena and frowned when he noticed her forlorn look. “Lennie?”

She shook her head. “I’m fine… It’s just… They got rid of the chickens.” Anders raised a brow at her but didn’t say anything. She recovered from whatever reverie she was in and shook it off. “My house is just around there.” The slight tremor in her voice didn’t escape his notice, but she squared her shoulders, nonetheless. After sharing a steadying look with him, she nodded and started walking.

She wasn’t okay. It didn’t take a genius to see that she was terrified, scared of being rejected, of being thrown out, of being disowned. And Anders was scared for her. He’d realized that he’d grown complacent in his own security of knowledge. Even if his mother still loved him, he knew he’d never be welcome back in that home again. But Alena had a real chance here, a chance to find her family again, to be loved, and though it would be difficult relocating the three of them, she’d never be alone. No, he scolded himself. She’d never be alone anyways because he would never abandon her. Looking at her now, at this girl whom he’d grown to love as his own sister, whom he’d seen grow up before his own eyes into this beautiful, mildly awkward but crazy kind woman, he imprinted it on his soul. He would not abandon Alena Fanelis.

She rounded a corner ahead of him and he let out a small “oof” as he bumped into her, now standing still as a statue. “Lennie?” Following her gaze, realization sunk in. There was a sign on the door upon which scribbly writing told them it was a general store, though obviously not meant in the market sense. The windows had long since been boarded up, even longer were the ones in the second story window. It had obviously been ages, years likely, since anybody had lived there. Her parents were gone, then. “Oh, no…” His hand went to his mouth to cover his surprise. “Lennie, I’m so—” His words were cut off by her hand. He watched as she walked across the way to a flowerpot and dug unceremoniously in the long-dead soil before pulling a key out. She wiped it on the front of her dress and hesitated outside the door, key poised. Anders moved to her side and gently placed his hand over hers. “I’m right here with you, Len.”

The look she gave him stabbed his heart, filled with such fear and uncertainty and utter sorrow. He couldn’t help but put his arm about her shoulders and give her a gentle squeeze. It seemed to do the trick because he felt her steel beneath his touch and, she opened the door.

Stored foods and barrels sat under heavy layers of dust within the building, obviously untouched for quite some time. Alena’s breath came out trembling, her fists clenched to whiteness by her side, but she pushed forward and around the corner, Anders following a respectful distance behind. At the top of the stairs was a cozy apartment. Old furniture sat under blankets and sheets that had long since turned yellow from disuse. Alena pushed deeper into the apartment, but Anders paused in what was obviously the living room and looked around. Three chairs sat around a table that stood underneath the only window. Against the far wall, an old and worn sofa was tucked in the corner, a rickety little bookshelf beside that. He walked over to it, pulled the sheet off, and squatted to investigate the books. A sad smile played at his lips as he read the titles, most of them children’s stories. He pulled one of the cheaper-looking ones out and turned to the first page, surprised to see that it was hand-written in a pretty, feminine scrawl. At the end of the book, there was a short little note that brought a lump to Anders’s throat. “To my darling Alena. Remember that you are always loved. –Mother”. He tucked the book into his pack and stood, clearing his throat.

The rest of the apartment was tinier than the living room, but it surprised him. Not many families had the luxury of having separate rooms for parents and children, let alone a family of elves, but evidently Alena’s family had found some way to manage. There was a thin hallway separating the living room from the bedrooms, the only decoration upon the walls a small, pink handprint. His fingers brushed over it, and he smiled to himself. He imagined a tiny Alena toddling about the apartment, imagined the light-hearted chastising of her mother after discovering the handprint before the two hugged and shared a laugh in some light-hearted moment of bonding.

Anders found Alena in her parents’ room, stood just a few steps inside the door. The tears hadn’t come yet, but they were not far if her hitched breathing was any indication. This was a simple room. A bed just barely big enough for two people was pushed in the corner, two thin pillows sitting at the head. To the side was a small end-table upon which sat a candle holder, though the candle had been burnt down to nearly nothing. A dresser sat at the foot of the bed, squat and meager. Alena walked over to a vanity pushed against the opposite wall of the bed and with trembling fingers pulled the sheet off it. A tear did fall then, betraying her as she collapsed onto the bench in front of it. Anders walked over and placed a gentle hand on her trembling shoulder. The vanity was the nicest thing he’d seen in the apartment just far—a beautiful mirror framed with an elegant design, the wood a warm, reddish color. Alena opened a small drawer from the middle and choked back a sob. Her hands trembled as she reached in and pulled out a silver hairbrush and a thick bundle of opened letters. She cradled the brush to her chest for a moment before shuffling through the letters, and Anders recognized her hasty, scribbly writing upon the letterheads.

“They’re all here,” she whispered. “Ten years of letters. All here.” Her voice cracked. Before Anders had a chance to say anything, she’d turned and buried her face into his stomach, her entire body wracked with sobs. Not knowing what else to do or say, he just put his arms gently about her and stroked her hair, letting her cry it out. She finally relaxed about half an hour later and cringed upon seeing the state of his shirt. “You’re all snotty now…”

He waved his hand dismissively and gave her a soft smile. “It’s not the end of the world.”

She shook her head and rose from her seat. “N-no. Here…” She crossed the room to the dresser and pulled the middle drawer open. She froze for a moment before opening the other two drawers and slamming them shut again.

“Lennie, really, it’s alright.”

Her fists clenched by her side. For a moment, Anders was afraid he’d insulted her somehow. “It’s all here.”

“What?”

“All their clothes… They’re all here… And the letters… And the brush… I didn’t want to it to be true but…” She swallowed hard and looked over at him with this look of just pure and utter devastation the likes of which he’d never before seen on her face. “Anders… I think…” It took her a moment to steel her voice again, to keep from breaking down. “I think my parents are…” The final word hung between them, thickening the air with such anguish for the longest of times. Dead. Anders, unable to see the pain in her eyes looked down at the floor and allowed her to process. They’d both known it was a possibility, especially given that the letters had ceased coming, but neither of them wanted to admit that that possibility truly existed. After a moment, she cleared her throat quietly, her voice barely audible to him. “Can I have a moment?”

“Of course, Len. As long as you need.” He didn’t bother trying to smile before he left the room. Their friendship was deep, but nothing he could say or do would help her now beyond allowing her her space. Curiosity got the better of him, and rather than return to the living room, he decided to go investigate what he assumed was her room.

He was surprised to notice firstly that it was dustier than the rest of the apartment. It must’ve been some time since her parents had disturbed the space before their passing. Overall, the room was slightly larger than her parents’. Generous of them, he thought. Though he knew little of the Fanelis family, he’d gathered they were good people who loved their daughter. The bed was small, built for a child, sat squarely in the middle of the wall across from the door. She had two little night stands on either side of it, a lantern sat atop one, and atop the other, a stuffed toy nug. He walked over to it and picked it up, smiling down at its dopy little face with its mismatched ears. It was handmade with love, a few imperfections in the knitting technique used to make the skin. He imagined a tiny Alena sleeping soundly in this tiny bed, this little lovingly made toy tucked under her chin. He brushed his thumb across its face before tucking it into his satchel with a smile.

There were child’s drawings on the wall above a tiny little table which held a small stack of paper and quills. They were of the general genre of children’s drawings, bits of her family, butterflies and the like, none of them particularly good but cute, nonetheless. Over in the corner sat a toy chest painted pink like the handprint in the hallway. She must’ve helped paint it, then. He squatted down beside it and opened it, smiling to himself. Wooden horses, a hand-sewn dolly, some building blocks, and there, underneath it all, a violet baby blanket with her name stitched in a delicate yellow script. He pulled it out and admired it for a moment before putting it in his satchel alongside the nug and the book.

She had a closet, unlike her parents, but it had no door, and he couldn’t help the soft chuckle as he noticed her tiny little shoes and dresses. Again, the idea of a baby Alena toddling about the place came to mind, dressed in tiny, frilly dresses, but quickly the smile was wiped from his face, replaced by anger. She’d never be happy like that again. She’d never know the love of her parents again. Her father would never give her away at her wedding. She’d never have her mother beside her to help her give birth. She’d never get the chance to truly know her parents. Never feel their loving embraces, never see their pride at her accomplishments. None of it. Because of the fucking Templars. Shaking the thought from his head, his eye caught sight of something poking out from the pillow on the bed, something he’d missed before. Curiously, he walked over and pulled the pillow back.

It was a letter, sealed, addressed to Alena. He narrowed his eyes at it, turning it about in his hands. It had obviously not been meant to be posted because there was no address upon it, nor a last name following the beautifully written Alena. Most families also tended to give up sealing the letters to their mage relatives when they realized the Templars would just read them anyways, but this one was sealed with a bit of wax. This could very well be the last letter her parents ever wrote to her. He should give it to her, let her read it. But was it too soon? Could she handle whatever it told her about their untimely demises? Not to mention, as much as he hated himself for thinking it, they’d spent too long here. He longed to give her the proper time to mourn, to say goodbye to the dream she’d held onto for the past ten years, but they needed to reach Lothering by daybreak to keep their distance from the Templars. He scowled to himself as he slipped the letter between the pages of the book written by her mother and glared down at it in his hands, at what could have been for her. Fucking Templars.

“Anders?”

He crammed the book back in his sack and cleared his throat. “In here, Len.”

She appraised him for a moment and cast a forlorn look about the room before holding out a man’s tunic. “Here, put this on. It might be a little small. I imagine you’re a sight larger than my father.”

He took it gingerly and nodded. “Do you want to look around in here?”

She shook her head. “No. We don’t have the time.” She turned and left him alone to change. He heard her rummaging around in her parents’ room while he did, and he cast another cursory glance about the room. They met each other in the hallway. She was carrying a sack now, too, weighted down with her own treasures of choice. “Let’s go,” she whispered.

Anders let her go first, and when she paused in the doorway to the upper apartment, he gently placed his hand on her arm. “I’m so sorry, Alena.”

She took a deep, shuddering breath and wiped the tears from her face. “Let’s just… Let’s just go. Please.”

They slipped out as quietly as they’d come. They made sure to avoid eye contact with anybody and kept their heads tucked down until they’d made it to the top of the hill. Alena paused to look out over the town one last time, the wind whipping her hair about her face. Anders gently took her hand in his and gave it what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze. She looked up at him and gave him a small smile before her eyes went wide, looking past him. He spun on his heel, arm held out to shield her from whatever danger she saw. A few feet away, carrying a basket of wheat stood an older woman with graying hair.

“Oi! That’s my dress, that is! Wait a minute… Is that… Maker’s breath. Can it be little Alena Fanelis?” The woman’s eyes went wide as she took in the sight of them.

Alena gripped the back of his sleeve and cleared her throat. “I-I think you’re mistaken, ma’am. I know no one by that name.”

The woman glanced around and, upon seeing they were alone, stepped closer, her voice lowered. “You can’t fool me, girl. You’re…” She sighed sadly, voice softening. “You’re the spitting image of your mother, even with your hair that color.” Alena’s breath hitched. Anders cast a glance behind to her, his arm lowering slightly but still held in front of her. The woman’s voice was filled with pity as she said, “I suppose you know, then.”

“What happened to them, Maggie?” Alena whispered, voice wavering.

The woman, Maggie, evidently the blacksmith’s wife, set the basket down on the ground and sighed again. “It was a terrible thing, child. Your mother was never quite right after… Well, after you were taken.” She cast Anders a wary glance as if judging his right to hear this. Defiantly, he puffed his chest out a little bit and glanced back at Alena. The woman looked at them a moment, analyzing them before continuing. “Well, it was about four years ago. Your mother, Andraste preserve her, took ill you see, a bad infection in her chest. And without her working the shop, your father took up more work in the fields, even took up work at the tavern. Ran himself ragged, he did. He…” She took a deep breath and looked down at the ground, clasping her hands in front of her. “He was killed one night, about the middle of Solis. Man came in the tavern, tried to rob the place.” The veil around them was growing heavy as Alena’s sadness grew, making Anders a tad nervous. They were too close to the Chantry. If she were to lose it now… “We tried to take care of poor Adalle, after. I went and stayed with her for a while, tried to nurse her back to health but she just couldn’t. It was too much for her. She went in her sleep about a month later.” The woman let out a choked, dramatic sob.

Alena made no sound for a long moment. Anders glanced back at her, but her face was hidden behind his shoulder, her fingers gripping his sleeve with all her might. Finally, she let go of him and adjusted her pack on her back, the veil lightening slightly around them. “Thank you for telling me, Maggie.” She moved to leave, but the woman grabbed her hand. Instinctively, Anders threw his arm between them and towered over the woman, a fierce look on his face.

The woman scowled at him but did not release her. She softened her expression and turned a sympathetic frown to Alena. “I’m so sorry, child.”

Alena did not look at her, her face hidden in her hair. She pulled her arm from the woman’s grasp and walked ahead while Anders hung back. He glowered at the woman, doing his best to look large. “If you tell anyone we were here…” he hissed.

The woman scoffed and thrust a bony finger in his chest. “If you let anything happen to that girl…”

They looked at each other for a long moment before they both nodded and stepped apart. She moved to pick her basket back up while Anders jogged ahead to catch up to Alena.

They traveled south to avoid the road. They would use the cover of the Korcari Wilds to make their way up towards Lothering rather than risk the main road. They walked in silence for a long time, for several hours in fact. Anders itched to comfort her, to be there for her, but the urgency with which they had to move was too impending. He hated himself for it, for all of it. They never should’ve gone to Redcliffe in the first place. It was too risky, not just with the unknown fate of her parents in the balance but with the Templars so difficult to evade there. If the blacksmith’s wife went to the Redcliffe Templars, told them of the two apostates she’d found, evasion would be beyond difficult. They’d lose the nearly full day’s head start they’d had, and it would all have been for naught. Anders swallowed at the thought. If he were to be captured again, especially now that he’d helped another mage escape, he would bet all of his worldly possessions that the Chantry would ensure it would not happen again. If he were lucky, they’d just kill him. If he wasn’t…

As he pondered his inevitable fate, too deep in thought to be paying any attention to the road, he was shoved unceremoniously over a large bush. Before he could protest, Alena was kneeling beside him, her hand over his mouth, and they both froze. For ages they didn’t move, practically too scared to breathe until finally the clanking of boots stomped past them. Alena poked her head out of the brush and cast long glances down either direction of the road before she sighed in relief and released his mouth. Anders risked a glance and swallowed. “What was that?”

Alena frowned, her brows knit together. “I don’t know. Didn’t look like any creature I’d ever seen before.”

Anders frowned. “What d’you mean ‘creature?’ They were wearing boots. I heard them.”

She nodded and helped him stand. “Boots and armor. I don’t know, Anders. They didn’t look…alive. Like men but rotting and gross.” Her nose wrinkled at the thought.

“Well, let’s push on, then, before they come back. Come, we shouldn’t risk the road anymore.” He took her hand and guided her into the forest, away from the road. As they walked through the brush, Anders mentally skimmed every account of every creature he had stored away over the years. The only solution he had was Darkspawn, but they’d not gone that far south into the Wilds yet. Alena had said that the Grey Warden Duncan was talking of Ostagar, and though they had made remarkably good headway, they should still have been six or seven hours’ walk to that fortress. There shouldn’t be any Darkspawn this far north yet, not with the whole of the Grey Warden sect and King Cailan’s armies standing in the way. Perhaps a scouting troop, maybe, or a rogue sect broken away from the main hoard. Anders didn’t like that possibility.  

“You’re going to get wrinkles.”

Her voice cut across him, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Sorry?”

Her knowing eyes were taking him in, scrutinizing him, turning him inside out with her analysis. “You’ve been frowning for the last three hours. You’re going to get wrinkles, old man.” The teasing tone in her voice was just a little too forced, but it brought a smile to his face, nonetheless.

“’Old man’? Lennie, you wound me.” He put a hand to his cheek in mock insult. “This beautiful face is nothing if not as youthful and vibrant as ever.”

The side of her mouth pulled up into a smile that lifted her ear. “My mistake. Seriously though, what’s up?”

He raised his brow at her and frowned. “I just wanted to give you some space. To process.”

Her eyes moved forward, the smile disappearing. Her steps slowed until she stopped, and Anders paused with her. She ran a hand through her hair before looking up at him, her ears flattening slightly. “I… I won’t say I’m fine, because I’m not. But…” She sighed and slipped into his arms, her hands snaking about his waist. He put a hand on her head and squeezed her gently. “When the letters stopped, I guess I knew.”

He shook his head and kissed her hair. “Even I had hope, Len.” At her hitched intake of breath, he stroked her hair back and kissed her forehead. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am, but I am here for you. I will always be here for you.”

She nodded into his chest. “I know.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but she tensed in his arms, her head snapping to the left. “What is—” Anders’s question was cut off as Alena threw her weight into him, sending him back. She let out a cry, and when he regained his bearings, she was on the ground, her hand on her face. There was an unearthly screeching from the direction she had looked. Instinctively, Anders willed a barrier up around the two of them and put himself in front of Alena. He didn’t have long to look and make sure she was fine before six hulking masses burst through the brush. They stood tall, the taller three a good foot taller than himself. They matched Alena’s description from earlier, like men but dead, rotting.

The three tall ones were staring at him, sizing him up. They each carried a sword of some sort, the tallest one holding one as long as Alena is tall. Two were flanking them, arrows knocked in their bows and ready to fly while the third, a squat little guy hung back. Anders just barely had enough time to register that it was carrying a staff before the tallest one let out a screeching war cry and charged, the two smaller ones following suit. Anders cursed his lack of a staff and let out a growl as he did his best to summon a fire storm. It came out as more of a wall of fire that flew towards the warriors, but he’d take it. He started casting as quickly as he could, though all of his attacks were coming erratically, weaker than he could’ve achieved with a staff, and two of the warriors were back on their feet, the two archers loosing their arrows, the mage casting with far more efficiency than Anders could hope to match. “Alena! Alena, come on! We’ve got to go!” He tried to cast another fire storm, and again it just came as a wall, but he didn’t give it time to settle before he had spun around. He grabbed her arm and dragged her to her feet, and they were running. Arrows flew past their heads, and mine glyphs were popping up along their path.

A quick glance over Anders’s shoulder told him what his ears already had—another group was on their tail, now, a good seven more on top of the four that had followed from his last attack. Alena was struggling to keep up, stumbling over too many obstacles. Blood was gushing down her face from where she’d been hit earlier, probably by an arrow if his extremely quick glance showed him the clean cut he thought he saw. It went from her right cheek up to the middle of her forehead. He cast a quick healing spell as he ran, part of it missing his mark but enough hitting her to at least stop the bleeding. She threw a spell over her shoulder and was met with a pained screech as one of the creatures fell. Her victory was short-lived, though, because as she her attention was on their pursuers, a fire mine materialized in her path. Anders didn’t have enough time to react before she stepped into it. Her hand was ripped from his as she was thrown away from him with a scream. Anders screamed in rage and threw pure magic back at their attackers with every ounce of strength of will he had. He didn’t pause to see what effect it had, if any, because he was running in the direction she was thrown. His eyes scanned the area, heart pounding in his ears. “ALENA!”

“Anders! Help!”

Anders’s stomach dropped as his eyes followed her voice to…nothingness. All he could make out was her thin hand clutching a thick tree root, the rest of her body lost over a cliff. He was running, then sliding on his knees to reach her. Her hand was slipping, and at the last moment, his hand wrapped around her wrist just as her hand slipped from the root. He breathed a sigh of relief as he looked down at her. “I gotcha, Len. I gotcha.”

Her eyes were wide as she looked up at him. “Don’t let go.”

He shook his head, clutching tighter to her. “Never.”

He wormed his way back from the edge, pulling her with him. Her head was over the ledge when her eyes went wide. As she shouted his name, he felt the hands upon his body.

The last thing Alena saw before she fell was the terror in Anders’s eyes as the Darkspawn pulled him out of her grasp.

Xxx

It was dark when she awoke. A frost had settled in around her, contrasting sharply with the heat from her head. She groaned as the throbbing came into focus, cutting sharply across her whole body. Her hand moved up to touch her wounds, taking stock. She’d hit her head hard, and at least one rib was broken. Though her healing magic was nowhere near as good as Anders’s, she tried her hand at casting a healing spell. She sighed slightly at the minor relief it gave her, but she felt drained. The thought of just staying right there, curling up and going to sleep, it was almost too good to pass up. Anders.

Alena bolted upright and hissed at the pain that shot through her body. She ignored it, pushing it to the back of her mind as she scanned the surrounding area. Her pack lay a few feet away, the silver handle of her mother’s brush glinting in the moonlight. “Anders?” She looked about again, frowning when he did not answer her. It took her a few tries before she managed to push to her feet and stumble over to her pack. She was woozy, the dark world spinning in her vision, and her steps came heavily and uncoordinated. Once she had her pack gathered and securely on her back, Anders’s face flashed back through her mind. The fear, the desperation, the agony when her hand slipped from his. “Anders?” she called louder, tilting her head back to look at the cliff. It stood a good thirty, forty feet above her. The only reason she’d survived would appear to be the fact that halfway between the bottom where she stood and the ledge, a slight hill had broken out. In the moonlight, she could see where she rolled over a patch of elfroot. Elfroot. Yes, that’s what I need. She would gather the elfroot then she would go find Anders. Maker let him be alright.

It was slow going, scaling the hill. It was steeper than it had appeared, and with her degree of disorientation, she kept slipping. She finally reached the elfroot patch after several minutes of struggling, and she hurried to gather their pointed leaves. They were smooth in her hands, already soothing to the touch. She nearly moaned as she chewed a few of them, the relief flooding her, beginning to soften the pain in her injuries. Stuffing the remaining leaves in her pack for later, she glanced back up at the cliff to see if she could find a way to climb back up. After deciding that no, there was no way given her current status, she slid down the hill and set off to find a way back up.

The darkness was not her friend. The moon wasn’t full enough to give her much to go on under the canopy of the trees. It was difficult, but she found a way up that involved a climbing over rocks half as tall as she was. Compared to getting up the damned hill, finding where she’d fallen was easy. Lying a few feet away was a dead…thing. One of the things that had attacked them. She squatted beside it and studied it for a moment. It was short, thick with muscle, an ugly smile-like expression formed by disgusting teeth protruding despite its shut mouth. She shuddered at the sight of it and sneered. “Piece of scum.” Despite every instinct she had telling her it was a terrible, disgusting idea, she began to dig through its pockets. It didn’t have much, but it had a small vial of healing potion and a few coppers among its stuff, all of which she stuffed in her pack before pushing herself back to her feet. She managed to make it a few steps before tripping with a squeal over something, a stick of some sort. Grumbling, she sat back up and glowered at it before a slow grin spread across her face. A staff. She could’ve wept at her turn of fortune as she pulled it into her hands. It felt strange, made her feel strange, stronger, more powerful, more focused.

Renewed with the added focus from the staff, she set off, the staff kept securely in her hands at all times. If Anders were still… He would meet her in Lothering. He had to. He would.

Xxx

She’d gotten lost…quite a bit. What should’ve taken her only ‘til morning took her well into the late afternoon, and her hunger was beginning to get the better of her. She stowed the staff in a hiding place just outside the village, and was thankful she’d not used the road because as she passed it, she caught sight of a band of bandits that most certainly would’ve gotten the better of her. Her entire body was shaking by the time she stumbled into the tavern, and just as her knees gave out, she managed to collapse into a chair. A kind-looking woman with red hair wearing Chantry robes settled into the chair across from her. “You look positively awful,” she purred in an Orlesian accent.

Alena snorted as she leaned back in the chair. “I try.” If she weren’t so exhausted and hungry, she would’ve fled by now, but the woman seemed harmless enough. Well. Not harmless. There was an air of danger beneath the surprisingly kind smile.

The Chantry sister smiled at her and waved over a waitress. “Some food for my friend here.”

Alena’s eyes widened slightly, and she dug out the bag of coin from her pack. “I… I don’t have that much money,” she mumbled sheepishly.

The Chantry woman smiled and waved her hand. “It is on me.”

Alena quirked a brow at her. “Why? There’s plenty of other people here who look like they need it more than I do.” It was true. The tavern was fairly full of people who looked to be little more than refugees. Southerners, perhaps, fleeing from the Blight.

“Because you have a good story to tell, and it is far from over.”

“Is that so?”

The woman smirked and extended a hand. “My name is Leliana.”

Alena looked down at the pale hand and pondered it for a second before taking it. “Noelle.”

The raised brows she gave her told her that she wasn’t buying it, but she didn’t press for the truth. The waitress brought over a bowl of stew and a thick slice of bread. Leliana waited patiently as Alena tucked in, scrutinizing her like an insect. Once Alena’s hunger subsided enough for her manners to come back, she cleared her throat. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen a human man around here, nearly 30, about a foot taller than me, blond hair in a ponytail, brown eyes, thin nose?”

Leliana frowned slightly as she thought. “No, I do not think so. Why?” A mischievous grin spread on her lips. “Is he your lover? Though, you do seem quite young. I would be remiss in my duties as a ley sister if I did not warn you about entering into relationships with older men.”

Alena frowned down at her stew. “No, nothing like that. He’s like my brother.” A tear slipped down her cheek before she realized she was going to cry. “He was taken by these… things.”

Leliana frowned and scooted closer. “I am sorry I joked. Why do you think he would be here?”

“Lothering was our next stop on our way to…” She glanced back up at the woman and cleared her throat. “On our travels.”

“I see. Is there anything I can do to help?”

She gave her a weak smile. “You’ve bought me a meal. I couldn’t ask for more.”

Leliana rolled her eyes but nodded. “I understand. You said you are low on coin, no? You should ask around town. There have been some people looking for someone to perform some tasks.”

“Is that so?” Alena leaned back in thoughtfulness before nodding. “Yes, I’ll ask around. Thank you, Leliana.” She stowed her bread and finished her stew in three thick mouthfuls before offering the woman a smile. Leliana just tipped her head and watched her go, a playful smile on her lips.

Alena went and retrieved her staff then asked around for tasks that needed doing. She was able to offer her elfroot leaves to an elderly woman asking for supplies, and as she was heading out into the fields to find more, she paused at the cage just outside the gate. She raised a brow at the man standing inside, a huge, imposing person who stood speaking some foreign language in a low voice. “Hello.”

“You are not one of my captors. I have nothing to say that would amuse you, Elf. Leave me in peace.”

She frowned, the tips of her ears burning slightly in a blush, but she nodded slightly. “I— Alright. If you insist.” She turned to leave but thought better of it and dug in her pack for the bread. “Here,” she grumbled, setting it upon one of the bars. “You look hungry.” She did not allow him the chance to say anything before she set off back on her quest again.

There was a small pack of wolves that she had to fight off, but otherwise she had little trouble gathering the rest of the herbs. As she passed back by the large man in the cage, she was pleased to see the bread had disappeared, though neither of them tried to make eye contact with the other. She brought them back to the woman who thanked her with great sincerity and a hefty purse. The bar owner was seeking someone who could brew poison, which Alena was hesitant to do, but which she ended up doing anyway. He had told her about a den of spiders near the river, but the prospect of fighting giant spiders, let alone a whole den of them on her own was too terrifying to contend with. She managed to find the toxin vials from the asshole merchant outside the Chantry and, after offering him a water skein and one of her father’s fine tunics she’d taken from her home, he agreed to lower the price to 50 coppers each which she was able to pay with the money from the old woman. The cost was a bit of a blow, but it was well covered by the payment received from the bar owner who also gave her one more free meal. This time, she saved the whole piece of bread and savored her stew, favoring it for over an hour.

Leliana sidled back up beside her and tilted her head at her. “Your stew has been cold for quite some time.”

Alena smiled slightly. “Just trying to stretch it out.”

“Are you still waiting on your friend?”

Alena nodded. “Yes.”

“You are worried.”

“Yes.”

Leliana leaned in closer and lowered her voice. “Is this friend also an escaped mage?”

Alena nearly fell out of her chair but recovered nicely, clearing her throat. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Leliana narrowed her eyes. “I saw you hiding your staff out in the field, and your hands are too soft.” Alena swallowed and stared down at her stew, appetite gone. “I will not tell, but I must warn you. There has been talk in the Chantry about three mages escaped from the Circle. Two of them managed to destroy their phylacteries, but the third has been sent for.” Her breath was coming quickly and shallowly as the panic began to rise within her. It had only been three days. It was too soon. “You seem a nice girl, Noelle. I do not wish to see you hurt.”

Alena cleared her throat and took a deep, steadying breath. “Does anyone else suspect?”

“No, not that I have noticed. There is too much going on with the refugees, but that will not last.” She reached over and settled her pale hand atop Alena’s. “Wherever your destination is, it would be wisest to set out as soon as you are able.”

“But my friend…” She couldn't leave. Lothering was a small enough place that Anders could find her easily, but if she pushed on without him, how could he find her? She'd heard stories of the size of Denerim. Any place that big would swallow her up. He'd never be able to find her.

Leliana smiled gently. “The bartender is trustworthy. A good man. If you leave word with him to expect this friend of yours, perhaps he will find him.”

She sat there for a long time, considering. No. Safety first. She would have to trust Anders. He'd been in the world before, knows how it works. He would find her no matter where she went. Finally, Alena nodded and stood to leave. “Thank you, Leliana.”

She smiled sadly up at her. “I pray the Maker will watch over you. And your friend.”

Alena made to leave, but she frowned slightly and turned back. “Leliana…”

“Yes?”

She leaned down and looked over at her. “You said three mages.”

“Yes. Though, I had heard it was two separate escapes. Yours and, I suspect, your friend’s, and another mage, a suspected maleficar.” Jowan. “It was quite the scandal, especially in the Chantry. The maleficar was aided by a Chantry sister, it seems.”

“Yes, Lily. But,” she cast a cursory glance about to make sure there was nobody eavesdropping. “There was another mage involved in the escape, Missella. Have you heard word of her?”

Leliana thought for a moment before nodding. “Yes, actually. There were whispers that she had been conscripted into the Grey Wardens. The Wardens and the royal army are preparing for battle at Ostagar.”

Missella’s alright. Alena hadn’t thought they would hurt her. She was gifted beyond a doubt, and Irving had taken a special liking to her, but it was nice to know she hadn’t been imprisoned or turned Tranquil. Alena breathed a sigh of relief and nodded. “Thank you again, Leliana.” She gave the woman the warmest smile she’d managed since leaving Redcliffe the day before then went to speak with the bartender. After obtaining his promise to keep an eye out for Anders and pass along that Alena had set off for their next destination, she did just that, and started on her way out of the little town of Lothering.

Xxx

Denerim was… huge. Alena had thought Redcliffe was a large place, but Denerim was mind-bogglingly giant. A passing merchant had spotted her along the road and, for the hefty sum of 90 silver (nearly all her money,) had allowed her passage to the town. She’d ditched her staff before coming in view of the city gates, and she’d rarely felt so exposed before. Few people paid her any mind, most of them too hurried to even glance at her, but the few looks she was getting were making her uncomfortable. She wandered about for what felt like an eternity, sticking to public places and avoiding the shady-looking alleyways, until at last she reached a set of tall gates. A city guard stood outside, looking bored as all get out. She cleared her throat and inched over to him. “Excuse me, ser, what is this place?”

He scoffed at her and gestured for her to go inside. “Alienage. Where the elves live. Are you daft or something?”

She only nodded and moved to go inside. There was a heavy air in the place, people walking about wearing forlorn faces. Alena looked up towards the tall tree standing in the middle of a square and wandered over to it. She reached out to touch it, her fingers just barely brushing the bark when a man’s voice came from behind her. “I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.”

She squealed and spun around wide-eyed. “I-I’m sorry, I just—”

“Calm yourself, child.” The man smiled at her with kindness. “I mean only for your own well-being. Many residents here… well, they urinate on the vhenadhal.”

Alena’s nose crinkled at the thought, and quickly she stepped away from the tree. “I…see.”

The man was old, with white hair that was braided on both sides. He tilted his head at her, taking her in. “You’re a stranger here.”

“Y-yes. Um. I’m sorry. I-I’ll go—”

She made to leave, but the man stopped her with a hand. “Nonsense. You look tired, hungry. Have you any place to stay, child?”

Alena rubbed her arm subconsciously. “Um. N-No. I used nearly all my money getting here.”

He nodded knowingly and patted her arm gently. “Come. I know just the place.”

He walked ahead of her a ways, and for a moment she considered just walking back out of this alienage, but the lightness of her purse against her hip told her it would be stupid. She could maybe afford a hotel room for a single night, but then what? So, with no small degree of trepidation, she trailed along behind him. The place was desolate, obviously a center for impoverished souls. Most of the buildings were in some state of dilapidation or another, and there were some beggars scattered about.

They didn’t walk far from the square before the man stopped at a door and knocked. The door opened to a young, red-haired woman, aged somewhere between Alena and Anders. The elder elf smiled in greeting. “Good evening, Shianni. May we come in?”

The girl, Shianni, scanned Alena up and down before opening the door wider. “Of course, Elder.”

The Elder stepped into the house, and as Alena walked past Shianni, the two of them shared equally defensive looks. The house was small, quaint. At the table sat a man about Shianni’s age and not unattractive, and an older man who stood upon seeing them. “Valendrian. What brings you here?” He looked past him to Alena and smiled gently. “And who is your friend?”

The Elder looked over at her. “I’m afraid I neglected to ask.”

She wanted to shrink under the scrutiny. Shianni walked over to sit beside the younger man and stared her down. The man standing at the table cleared his throat and smiled wider. “Well, that’s no matter. My name is Cyrion. This is Shianni and Soris.” Soris wiggled his fingers at her and gave her a wide smile. “Please, join us. Shianni, would you be so kind as to get her some stew?”

Shianni looked as though she were going to protest, but after a pointed look from Cyrion, she relented. Alena hesitantly walked over to the table. Soris jumped up and moved to pull a chair out for her, into which she shyly slipped. Shianni put a bowl and a spoon in front of her while Soris poured her a glass of water. “Th-thank you.”

Valendrian cleared his throat. “Cyrion, may I speak with you?”

Cyrion nodded and moved back towards the door and began speaking in hushed whispers. Alena swallowed hard under Shianni’s harsh gaze and ate a few spoonfuls of stew. “So where do you come from?” Shianni folded her arms across her chest.

Alena’s ear flicked. “Um. Honnleath.” These lies sure keep building up, Len.

Soris put his chin in his hand and smiled gently at her. “And you’ve come all this way? What for?”

He was endearing enough, open and warm. Something told her she was safe, despite Shianni’s careful watch which she supposed was just protectiveness over her family. “I wanted to get out before the Darkspawn got too far up. I’m meant to meet a friend here.”

“A friend? When? Where?” Shianni raised a brow at her.

Alena set her spoon down and slipped her hands into her lap, the urge to cry bubbling up within her. It took her a minute to beat it back down. “I don’t…know. We got separated on the road. Darkspawn…” She swallowed hard. “He was taken. But he’ll be here.” She nodded, an attempt to assure herself more than anything. “He’ll be here.”

Soris flattened his ears and frowned sympathetically at her. “I’m so sorry to hear that, you poor thing.”

Alena smiled weakly back before staring down at her stew. The two older men came back over, and Cyrion sat down beside her. “So. Am I correct in assuming you’ve nowhere to stay while you wait for this friend?”

“No. I’ve nothing and no one, ser.”

He shared a look with Shianni and Soris before reaching over and putting his hand on her arm with a warm smile. “Not anymore, child. You’re welcome to stay with us for as long as you need.”

Alena frowned at him and glanced up at Valendrian who was hovering with his own smile. “Why? For all you lot know, I’m a deranged murderer, a con artist, a recently escaped maleficar.” Well, not a maleficar at least.

Valendrian smiled and patted her shoulder. “You are young, child, and lost. If we do not help our young and our lost, what good are we?”

The thought was surprising to her. Her ears flattened back as a wave of emotion washed over her, tears stinging her eyes. Her voice waivered just the slightest as she whispered a meager, “thank you.”

“I will take my leave, Cyrion. Child, should you need anything, you may come to me.” Valendrian patted her shoulder one final time before starting on his way out the door.

“I’ll walk with you, Valendrian.” Cyrion followed him outside, leaving Alena once again under Shianni’s piercing gaze and Soris’s dopy smile.

Shianni glanced over at the boy and snorted. “Need I remind you of your betrothal, cousin?”

Soris blushed up to the tips of his ears and grumbled something under his breath. Alena smiled slightly at the interaction and looked back down at her stew. It had grown cold, but she managed to finish it. Soris took the bowl from her when she set her spoon back down, and she forced herself to meet Shianni’s scrutinizing gaze. “I’m sorry for the imposition, Shianni.”

The girl regarded her for a minute. “As long as you stay out of trouble, it’s fine.”

Alena nodded heartily. “Absolutely. No trouble from me.”

“Then perhaps you can tell us your name?”

Alena considered it for a long moment. She could lie, as she had with Leliana, but something about this family told her she would be safe, even if the whole truth came out. She cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders. “Alena.”

Soris beamed at her from across the room. “I’ve got a good feeling about you, Alena.”