#bc dammit lette is bi as fuck and leans towards women im TELLING U ITS TRUE ITS GOTTA BE

[astralshipper]

alright i know no one knows who lette is but im gonna just. rewrite the whole lette and balur meet will scene from the first book and im adding my s/i bc... hell yeah, so if u wanna know abt how wren and lette meet, here’s a hastily put together fic!!

basially for backstory: Wren and Will grew up together. They live in a place ruled by dragons that tax the people to death. Will gets visited by the dragon’s guards and is told he didn’t pay his taxes, though he did, and they are going to take his farm and arrest him. He basically fucks everything up and the guards set fire to his farm, so he runs before they can kill him. this picks up there!

WARNINGS FOR VIOLENCE, DEATH, KINDA GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS??? IT’S A MEDIEVAL FANTASY FIGHT SCENE THERE R SWORDS AND DEATH IM SORRY!! also it’s gay

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The sight of her childhood friend’s farm up in flames had Wren’s heart in her throat. Were she standing still, her hands would be quite visibly shaking, but she wasn’t standing still. She couldn’t stand still. Not yet. It wasn’t safe yet. Will wasn’t safe yet.

Her feet pounded rhythmically against the forest floor of Breccan Woods. She had caught a glimpse of the familiar mop of brown hair dashing into the tree cover in the flickering light of the blazing fire. Her best friend needed her help, and the poor farm boy surely wouldn’t be able to survive in these woods alone. Breccan Woods was gnarly after nightfall. Ogres, goblins, and every creature in between crept through the shadows in search of rogue passersby. Why he had decided this to be a good idea, she couldn’t understand.

Her eyes flickered up through the cover of the trees. Through the gaps flashing by, she caught sight of the familiar form soaring overhead in the pale moonlight. The young, loyal falcon kept a close eye on the farm boy as she had instructed him to, and now all Wren needed to do was follow the bird’s lead. 

The night stretched on, and the woods seemed endless. At some point the cover became too much, and she lost sight of her feathered companion. She could only hope she was headed in the right direction, and that he was headed for the hills like she thought he was. 

A steady rainfall soaked the already dangerously jagged path beneath her boots. Her clothes were soaked through, and she swore the cold had seeped through to her very bones. Everything seemed to be going downhill very quickly, which is why she felt such a rush of relief when the trees gave way to a towering wall of rock leading up into the mountains she knew so well. And who was that entering a newly opened cave entrance?

Wren’s eyes widened, and she pushed herself forward again, pushing back the cries of protest from her overexerted muscles. The falcon circling overhead dove towards his master and settled himself on her shoulder, his claws digging into the layers of leather and chainmail adorning her upper body. The woman scrambled towards the cave opening and practically collapsed inside, only to choke on the foul stench that reached her nose. 

She forced back a gag at the odor of gods only know what, but she had no time to think over the possibilities, as mere moments later a familiar male voice let out a fearful shriek. Another high squeal followed just after, and it didn’t even have time to go silent before Wren’s sword was drawn and at the ready. 

Torches began to light the cave, illuminating not only the ash covered face of Will, but also the snarling faces of a full horde of goblins. Her eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat. Of course. Of course Will had to choose the one gods hexed cave that was filled with goblins. She twirled the sword in her hand and took a step forward.

“Sorry,” Will’s shaking voice echoed off the walls. “Wrong cave, my one’s a few entrances down.” 

Wren rolled her eyes, far too used to Will’s antics by now to linger on this for long. She took a few more bold steps forward to stand protectively in front of the quivering man. She held her sword out towards the goblins as they continued to make their way slowly towards the pair. “We’ll be off, then,” she insisted, more to the man behind her than the other creatures in the cave. She wasn’t entirely sure if Will was capable of moving, but she hoped that the reminder would be able to kick start his mobility.

She was wrong. A threatening, collective growl rumbled through the space, erupting from every little creature closing in. Wren held her free hand behind her back to push Will towards the mouth of the cave. The falcon on her shoulder screeched and flapped his wings in resistance to the threat toward his master.

An unfamiliar howl cut through the air, roaring from behind her rather than in front of her as she expected. A squeal of fright left Will’s lips as he threw his arms over his head and dropped to his knees. A large, burly blur darted past Wren and barreled into the horde. A beat of silence. All of this happened seemingly in the same second. 

And then all hell broke loose.

Battle cries erupted from every side, and Wren wasted no time before rushing forward and slashing at an oncoming goblin with her blade. The large scaly creature that had joined them and started the attack wielded a hammer against the beings, swinging and smashing them to bits with a satisfied howl. Somewhere behind Wren, she registered another figure fighting, this one far smaller but easily just as deadly, it appeared. Each goblin attempting to escape the cave entrance met the end of this new contender’s blades, which were dual wielded in either hand. 

A lull in the battle on Wren’s end allowed her to take a good look at this new what seemed to be an ally. Her grip on the hilt of her sword tightened until her knuckles turned white at the sight she was met with. There, in the entrance of the cave’s mouth, silhouetted an armor clad woman slicing away at the endless droves of goblins attempting to both flee and attack all at once. Fiery red tinted hair was swept up in a messy ponytail at the back of her head, and the shorter strands that had escaped the hair band stuck to her sweat slick skin. Angular facial features set into a snarl, and her eyes glinted with a type of fury Wren had never seen before. Yet the grace this woman fought with showed that her anger did little in terms of blinding her skill. It looked like more of a dance routine than a fight. This was not war, this was art. She stood at a shorter stature than Wren herself, which was surely saying something, but her size didn’t weaken her in any way. That much was clear through the steadily climbing death count she was racking up.

Wren found herself so enamored with the sight of this newcomer that she almost forgot about the fight she was partaking in. A goblin threw itself at her, and the falcon on her shoulder screeched in just enough time for her to spin on her heel and swing her blade through the air to slice the creature midair. She twirled out of the way so the lifeless body could fall to the rock floor instead of hitting her in the chest and soiling her clothes further than they already were.

The fight ended rather quickly with such skilled fighters on her side, and soon enough she allowed herself to collapse against the wall of the cave. Her sword clattered to the ground by her side.

The newcomers didn’t seem to feel as relieved with the end of the battle. Now that Wren could take in the woman’s companion, she felt her mind twist in confusion. She had never seen, nor even HEARD of a creature like this. He stood at about eight feet tall, covered in huge, tough scales that resembled body armor. He was nothing but muscle and blood lust as he looked down upon the victims of the previous slaughter. He and the woman looked to each other and gave a nonchalant shrug.

“See?” His rumbling voice boomed, far too loud for the enclosed space. “That is being more fun than baking.”

The woman scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Shut up and start looking for the purse,” she snapped before whirling around on her heels and jabbing a finger in Will’s direction. “You. Have you seen a purse?”

Will’s eyes widened almost comically. “M-me?” He stuttered.

“No, the other helpful bystander standing just behind you.”

“Well,” Will began with a furrowed brow, trying to take a not-so-sly look behind him in case she was being serious. “I wasn’t sure if you meant her!” He waved a hand in Wren’s direction across the cave, who simply raised an exhausted brow. She reached a hand up and wiped the sweat away from her forehead with the back of her hand. 

“She pointed at you, not at me, dumb ass,” she growled out. Today had not gone according to plan, and the last thing she needed was her best friend to embarrass her in front of the most attractive girl she’d seen in a long while. 

Speaking of the attractive woman, she cast an amused smirk in Wren’s direction, her eyes flickering up and down her appearance as if to size her up. Wren felt as though the woman could see through to her very soul, and she shuffled her feet on the rock floor with uncertainty. She wasn’t used to much attention, much less attention from a pretty girl. This was a bit overwhelming.

The telltale crack of bones snapping echoed through the cave as the lizard creature tossed two of the bodies of the goblins into the cave wall. They fell to the ground in a heap, and Wren couldn’t help but wince at the sight and sound. 

The woman’s face softened ever so slightly, and she tilted her head the tiniest fraction. “Not how you spend your typical evening?”

Wren huffed in faux amusement. “Not even a typical day for us.” She nodded her head in Will’s direction.

The woman finally allowed herself to smile - a real smile, one that crinkled her eyes and brought to life a dimple on one of her cheeks. Wren’s stomach flipped at the sight. “I’m Lette,” she introduced herself, before nodding to the lizard man accompanying her. “That’s Balur.”

Will remained silent as he peered back and forth between the two newcomers. Wren, however, felt the need to speak up. “What is he?” She wondered aloud, in reference to the lizard creature, or Balur, as she now knew him to be.

It took less than a second for Lette to reply. “An obstinate idiot.”

Balur huffed as he shook another goblin in search of the missing purse and tossed the useless corpse into the growing pile. “You being flirting is not helping us find our purse any faster,” he grumbled, clearly used to the snide remarks by now. 

Wren’s cheeks heated up at the insinuation, and she opened her mouth in an attempt to defend herself. She wanted to say that it wasn’t true, that she wasn’t flirting. It would be a lie, but she could still say it. Lette spoke up first. “At least my version of flirting is a little more sophisticated than whipping my britches off and proffering some coin,” she sneered. 

Who says you would need to proffer any coin? Wren thought to herself, before immediately shaking her head to get rid of the thought. Not the time for that.

Lette, however, rounded on Will and jabbed a finger in his direction once again. “Get any ideas and I shall feed you your own testicles,” she warned. Will looked about ready to crumble into a pile of pure nervous energy, and he quickly nodded in understanding through the look of utter confusion in his eyes.

It seemed that this was now the time that Will decided he should speak up. “I’m Will,” he began. “I’m a farmer.”

Lette hummed in thought as she turned to Balur. “How about farming?” She suggested quite suddenly. “Working with your hands. Very physically demanding, farm work can be.”

Balur, however, did not seem so keen. “Bad for reflexes. Ruin muscle memory,” he replied, leaving no room for argument. Lette sighed heavily and shook her head in clear annoyance. She turned back to Wren.

“How about you? I highly doubt you’re a farmer with swordsmanship like that.” She nodded her head to the bloodied blade on the ground. “Plus, falcons don’t usually seem to be popular farm animals,” she mused.

Wren chuckled and shook her head. “I’m Wren. I’m a falconer, but I grew up in the bladesmithing business. Got a shop back in town my parents left me. Kinda meant I had to know how to handle any kind of blade out there, you know?”

The corner of Lette’s mouth quirked upwards in the ghost of a smile. “It’s nice to meet you, then, Wren. Maybe I could show you a thing or two sometime, yeah?” She punctuated her sentence with an incredibly obvious wink.

That was all she did before turning away and returning to her task of searching the goblins for the aforementioned purse. Wren was left gaping at the insinuation, her cheeks burning under the sudden attention. 

Nice to meet you too, Lette. Very very very nice to meet you.