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miss-ingno · 4 years

Text

Eternal Eclipse, 1 of 10(?)

Fandom: ragehappy Ships: Freewood (Gavin/Ryan), Jerevinwood (Jeremy/Gavin/Ryan) Words: 4.6k Tags: Sky Factory 3 Gods AU, (temporary) character death, blood sacrifice, magic rituals, amnesia, jealousy, relationship drama, religious imagery, cults

Summary: The Solar Queen is dead, long may the Dark God reign.

OR Gavin wishes he could just belong, unaware of the dangers around him

Read here on Ao3 or on Patreon. More chapters are available there already on early access, updates will happen once a week every Thursday! [Prologue] [Ch1] [Ch2] [Ch3] [Ch4] [Ch5] [Ch6] [Ch7] [Ch8] [Ch9] [Ch10] [Ch11]

***

Long ago when little fires lit up the sky at night and the sun chased away the darkness each morning, the world existed in a precarious balance. For eons, humanity lived under the divine struggle as night and day fought for dominance. But then came the day where the Dark God tricked the Solar Queen. Three times he tricked her, stealing a piece of her light each time.

“Come,” said the Dark God, voice smooth like honey. “I have a gift for you, Solar Queen.”

And the Solar Queen followed in all her golden splendor because at heart she was a prideful being. Her golden carriage was drawn by seven steeds white and fluffy like clouds, and each wheel was made of one solid colour of the rainbow. You see, for the rainbow was the banner of light that trailed behind the Solar Queen during her travels.

The Dark God led the Queen to a barren field where a large, gray building stood. It was as huge as any temple and clearly dedicated to the Dark God by his followers.

“This is clearly dedicated to you, Dark God,” said the Solar Queen. She was miffed since the Dark God had lied to her.

“Certainly, it was made by my worshippers,” the Dark God allowed, a secretive smile on his lips. “But I assure you, they mean to dedicate it to you. Look.”

And he waved at the building from which heat radiated like a small sun.

“Impossible!” said the Solar Queen. “How did they manage such?”

“Ingenuity, my dear,” said the Dark God, looking rather smug. “I gave them the knowledge they craved, and they decided to prove they could capture your warmth, if not your beauty, in a joint temple to the two of us.”

And the Solar Queen accepted the gift, flattered that the Dark God would share his worship with her. But as night came, dark smoke rose from the chimneys and darkened the sky until none of the stars were visible.

This was the first of three times the Dark God tricked the Solar Queen.

***

“Gavin? Gavin!”

Gavin blinked his eyes open. A single candle illuminated the small room he sat in, legs crossed and back to the wall. There were no windows, the walls made of smooth stone and the room empty aside from four carpets surrounding a small altar upon which the candle sat.

“There you are,” the familiar voice continued, sounding out of breath. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

Gavin looked up and met brown eyes, gleaming in the flickering candlelight. Worry creased his friend’s forehead, emphasized by the lack of hair on his head.

“Sorry,” Gavin offered sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “I, uh. I think I fell asleep during meditation.”

“Again?” his friend asked, exasperated. He dropped down on the opposite prayer mat with a huff. “What, are you not getting enough sleep?”

The way he phrased it sounded very off-hand, almost accusing, but Gavin sensed the concern underlying his friend’s words. He smiled. It was true enough, after all.

“I’m fine, Jeremy.” Gavin stretched, his spine popping. He grimaced. Sitting still so long never sat quite right with him. “Well, mostly. It’s just boring, innit?”

“What, meditating?” Jeremy shrugged. “I guess you get used to it.” At Gavin’s crestfallen look, he quickly added, “Don’t worry, you’ve not been at this for long yet. You’ll get it one day.”

Gavin sighed, ducking his head. It was always the same reassurance - one day, one day, one day. His nails bit into the skin of his palms. As if he needed more reminders that he was the eternal newbie, not even an acolyte yet, despite living at the temple for years now. But he knew what Jeremy would say if he brought it up - that most acolytes have been raised at the temple from a young age and it took them years to master all the necessities as well before moving on to more important duties. He just felt it more keenly as he was older.

“I know, I know.” Gavin pried his fist open and mustered the crescent imprints left behind by his nails. “I just… I feel like I’m ready.”

Jeremy said nothing for a long while. Gavin stared into the flickering flame of the candle, pursing his lips. He knew already what Jeremy would say next, and he was just as unwilling to hear it as the last time.

“Did you ask High Priest Gustavo what he thought?”

“I did.” Gavin snorted, pushing off the wall to stand up. “He said to be patient and that the time would come for my destiny, and until then I would just have to wait and listen.”

Jeremy scrambled up as he did, meeting him at the door.

“I��m sure it’ll make sense eventually,” his friend offered hesitantly.

“Easy for you to say, innit,” Gavin muttered, but shot Jeremy a rueful grin. After all, it wasn’t his friend’s fault that the priesthood were stubborn fucks. Jeremy slung an arm around his shoulders and squeezed him against his side in a quick hug before letting go.

“Maybe it’s for the best.” His eyes glimmered in the flickering torch light as they walked through the halls, their steps and hushed voices echoing. “Your first sacrifice should be for something significant.”

“I know,” Gavin agreed quietly, shoulders slumping as he hugged himself. “I just wish…”

Jeremy’s sharp eyes mustered him, and though he never finished the sentence, Gavin had the feeling he knew all too well what bothered Gavin. After all, Gavin had felt out of place ever since his arrival at the temple; a young man on the verge of death and with no memories to call his own. He was the outsider, the intruder, or just a puzzle to solve to the young acolytes. To all except for Jeremy, who’d extended his hand in friendship early on, and Gavin clung to him with the desperation of the lonely.

“I know, buddy. I know.”

***

Ryan sat on the edge of the world, legs dangling as he watched humanity below. For over half a century now they had lived in a world cast into darkness. In absence of the sun they had turned to him for help. It made sense, in a way. Darkness was his domain as surely as light had been Gavin’s. Thinking of him made his hollow chest ache, and Ryan grit his teeth against the pain. Gavin would want him to take care of the humans, and so he did, providing warmth and energy with subterranean coal engines and nuclear reactors.

Too late had he realized that humanity mistook the change in their pantheon as a sign. Torn between grief and too busy trying to fix it, somehow, to ensure humanity’s survival when he couldn’t fix his heart… He didn’t notice the sun worshippers hunted by his own, and when he surfaced from his work, only few followers of the Solar Queen remained. They sought shelter at other temples, Geoff and Michael’s first and foremost.

And as quickly as their number dwindled, dead or converted out of necessity, as quickly did worship of the Dark God grow.

Thus Ryan sat on the edge of the world, exhausted, watching over the humans and listening to the cacophony of prayers. He wanted to rest, more than anything, but… He’d already failed to take care of Gavin’s humans, he could not fail anyone else. Gavin would want him to take care of the rest of the humans, his own or not.

“Gavin would want you to take care of yourself, buddy,” Jeremy interrupted his thoughts. Ryan looked up, the god of blood magic having appeared next to him out of thin air.

“But…” Ryan started, and Jeremy crossed his arms, scowling.

“No buts. When’s the last time you rested properly?”

Ryan avoided his gaze, opting to stare down. Without the sun to denote night and day, the world was always busy, humans tending to their work whenever they woke, for as long they could.

Jeremy kept watching him, a worried frown on his face. Ryan opened his mouth, then closed it. He didn’t know how to reassure Jeremy, or to explain the restless urge that drove him away from bed.

“The last time I stopped paying attention,” Ryan started, feeling the words out as he spoke them, “my followers destroyed every remnant of Sun worship they could find. Desecrated temples, killed the worshippers, vandalized everything Gavin created and-” Ryan stopped, swallowed. Looked up at Jeremy, his eyes haunted. “They did it all in my name.”

Jeremy’s expression softened, and he dropped his arms to his sides. His fingers twitched, as if he wanted to reach out but thought better of it. Ryan felt a pang of guilt. Between his work and mourning, he’d pushed his friends aside, isolating himself.

“There’s still at least one follower alive,” Jeremy offered. “He-”

Quick as lightning, Ryan stood and slapped a palm over his mouth.

“Don’t tell me any more than that,” he ordered harshly, his tone desperate. “I- I do not want to know when my priests come to ask.”

Jeremy nodded, and Ryan dropped his hand with a sigh. Jeremy caught his sleeve before he could turn back to the world.

“You still need rest.” Jeremy paused, peering up at him. “Me and Michael can keep watch. Make sure they don’t do anything too stupid.”

Ryan hesitated, glancing back. Jeremy tightened his grip on his arm.

“C’mon, buddy. Trust me.”

“I can’t sleep,” Ryan confessed, closing his eyes. His house was just as Gavin left it, all his things still cluttering the shelves. Useless inventions, for the most part, pretty baubles and environmentally conscious alternatives to Ryan's more efficient solutions, but he’d been so proud… And now there wasn't any sunlight to make them work. “It’s too… empty.”

A look of something flashed over Jeremy’s face. Pity? Guilt? It was gone too fast for Ryan to puzzle out. His hand slid down to hold Ryan’s own, thumb stroking gently over his knuckles.

“Then come stay over at my place,” Jeremy offered quietly. Ryan recoiled, shaking his head.

“I can’t-”

“Gavin would understand,” Jeremy interrupted firmly, squeezing his hand. “Besides do you think Gavin - Gavin, of all people - would fault you for finding comfort in your friends?”

Ryan shook his head mutely. No, he wouldn’t. Gavin used to be the most tactile of them. It’s what had drawn Ryan to him in the first place: his warmth, the easy affection… Ryan had never been good at asking for what he needed, but Gavin had offered freely.

Just like Jeremy was offering now. And maybe it was those parallels making Ryan hesitate. But… surely Jeremy was just offering his company, nothing more.

“Alright,” Ryan said, lifting his head. “I- yeah.”

Jeremy just nodded, not saying anything else as he tugged him towards the center of their world, the place where everything began.

***

A meadow of flowers, colourful fowl running around. They made a cacophony of noise, screeching loudly as he passed between them, feathers flying everywhere as they fluttered away. It all seemed so familiar, like a long forgotten dream.

A farmer stood at the end of a row of chicken nests, between a hay bale and a hill of manure. He was wearing some sort of green armour, blending into the grass, except for his straw hat. The farmer looked up and turned, but before Gavin could see his face, darkness fell and took the chicken farm with it.

He stood in a room made of smooth stone, lit only by small red lamps in tall machines. Cloches, Gavin realized. Farmland had been replaced by rooms such as this after the sun's death, to produce food in the night of the world.

Only now, in the stark contrast between light and dark, did Gavin notice the lack of torches on the chicken farm- and yet it had been light, lit by an unknown source-

The sun, Gavin knew instinctively.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he noticed another man kneeling between the cloches, pulling and plugging in wires. The cables lay in a mess on his lap, an empty pipe next to him. A wrench hung on his belt, gleaming red in the low light. He was also wearing a green shirt and armoured pants made of a strange metal.

The man lifted his head, scratching at a magnificent red beard. He caught Gavin’s gaze and smiled.

“Hey,” he said, dropping his work and standing to stretch. “Haven’t seen you in a while. How are you feeling?”

Gavin opened his mouth, ready to exchange empty pleasantries. Instead, what escaped his lips was, “Lonely.”

The bearded farmer nodded, his eyes sympathetic.

“Hold strong. It’s not much longer until you can return home.”

Home? Gavin wanted to ask but the bearded man turned, staring into the darkness. A heavy, humming sound vibrated through the walls, the floors started to rumble. A hand grabbed Gavin’s shoulder and he turned, seeing a woman burning with an inner fire, red hair floating around her head like a halo.

“You need to go,” she said, a sad smile on her lips.

“Why?” Gavin asked, but the floor vanished under his feet, and then he was falling.

***

Gavin woke with a gasp, sitting up abruptly. His room was awash in the light of a torch, flickering steadily in its wall brace. The low murmur of voices echoed from the hallways, acolytes passing by the dorms. In his chest, his heart fluttered.

A farmer of old, a mechanic with a beard and a red-headed lady.

Gavin tossed his blanket aside, nearly falling out of his bunk in his haste. He scrambled through the small chest of his possessions, pulling out a small journal and ink pen. Flipping through the pages filled with scribbled notes, he took a deep breath, trying to remember his dream. There was the farmer, tending to animals- was it sheep? Something was special about his farm. Gavin wrecked his brain, but the memory slipped through his fingers like smoke. Still, he dutifully wrote down everything he could recall.

The healers theorized that his recurring dreams were fragments of his lost memories, coming to him in bits and pieces as he slept. And indeed, several figures seemed to appear over and over: the lady who gave him food more often than not, two farmers, a mechanic, a bear who walked upright, a knight in pink armour…

Jeremy made him swear to share these dreams with only the few he trusted, concern throwing his face into harsh lines. Pink armour and bear heraldry, he explained, were the signs of the Knight of Fae. An order of magic that often opposed the Acolytes, an order at war with the worshippers of the Dark God. Nominally, the Acolytes were allies of the Dark Ones, and if it came to light Gavin had ties with the Fae…

Jeremy knew, of course. And he had to tell High Priest Gustavo, who ordered him to keep the dreams secret as well. Healer Steffie knew, but she was bound by oaths of confidentiality. She was the one to suggest the dream diary.

Flipping through the pages, Gavin settled onto his bed. Not for the first time he wondered at his past life. Who were these people who seemed so familiar, yet whose faces he could never remember? Who had he been, friends with farmers and mechanics and Knights? Sometimes there even was an Acolyte in his dreams, but try as he might, he could not remember his face or name. Instead his subconscious would substitute him with Jeremy’s face, confusing his feelings for his friend with familiarity of his lost memories.

Gavin couldn’t help but think said Acolyte might be the one who brought him to High Priest Gustavo.

The voices outside rose in excitement, buzzing like a beehive. Gavin looked up, carefully closing his journal. Something was going on out there, big enough to have caught the attention of the young acolytes. It felt like their entire underground temple was gathered just down the hall, going by the noise. He couldn’t remember the last time everyone had come together outside the assembly…

Well, the last time since he arrived, at least. He only half-remembered the commotion, a familiar voice ordering Take good care of him...

Gavin closed his eyes and reached for the memory, trying to recall that night. He’d been quite out of it, the healers told him later. A concussion and severe blood loss, a hit to the head likely to blame for his lost memories. But sometimes Gavin thought he remembered details he wasn’t told. The man had wrapped his cloak around Gavin, black with silver thread. He must have worn an Acolyte’s robes, perhaps a priest in rank. His voice echoed deep and reassuring through the chamber, so similar to Jeremy’s-

Gavin huffed and fell back onto his bed, dropping the journal. The memory dispersed like smoke the moment his mind compared the stranger to Jeremy, like he always ended up doing.

Suddenly, the door to his dorm banged open, a blonde head peeking past the frame. Gavin sat up, hastily pushing his journal under his pillow.

“Hey Gav!” the woman greeted him with a bright smile. She shuffled in, sheepishly pushing the door shut behind her with an almost silent click, as if to apologize for her loud entry. “Fancy seeing you here!”

“Lindsay.” Gavin couldn’t help but grin back at her. Of all the people in the temple, she was his favourite - right after Jeremy, of course. She was a kitchenaid, apprenticed to the baker. Their schedules didn’t match up often, on the rare occasions she managed to ditch her duties to hang out. “This is my room, Lindsay. I sleep here.”

“Right, right.” Lindsay nodded along, drying her hands in her apron. Then she paused. “Hope I didn’t wake you.”

“Who could still be sleeping with this much noise?” Gavin asked rhetorically, eyeing her warily. Her blonde hair was wind-blown, except they were too far underground to catch so much as a breeze. “Lindsay, did you run all the way from the kitchen, Lindsay?”

“Maaaybe?” she hedged, brushing her hair out of her face. “So you were awake! Okay, good. Right!”

Gavin narrowed his eyes. “Is something the matter?”

“No, no!” Lindsay held up her hands as if to ward him off, forcing a laugh. “Nothing’s wrong.”

Gavin hummed in disbelief, cocking his head. Lindsay had never been a good liar in his experience.

“Okay,” he said slowly, watching her slump in relief. “Why did you come here, Lindsay?”

“Uhh…” She stared at him blankly, twisting her hands in her apron. “Um, I, uh, just wanted to come say hi?”

“And you ran all the way from the kitchen here,” Gavin repeated, his tone dry, “to say hi?”

“Yes.” Lindsay nodded emphatically. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Gavin returned on reflex. Then he stared her down, bemused by her antics, but not willing to let it go. He was curious now - what was she trying to hide from him? Lindsay fidgeted, aware the game was up. “Lindsay.”

“Gavin.”

“Why are you acting suspish?”

“M’not,” Lindsay objected, grinning brightly and entirely fake. Gavin hummed his disbelief and arched a brow. She deflated under his look. “Promise not to go out there right now?”

“Sure,” Gavin agreed quickly. Right now he wanted to know what Lindsay was up to. After was an entirely different manner. Lindsay relaxed as his assurance, her smile shrinking to a small, honest one.

“There’s Hunters out there,” she confessed in a rushed whisper. “I think they’re looking for someone.”

“Hunters?” Gavin asked, brow knitting in confusion. Lindsay gave him a pitying look, but her voice was even as she explained.

“Zealous worshippers of the Dark God.” Unlike many others, Lindsay did not add a muttered ‘long may he reign’ when speaking of the head deity of the pantheon, nor did she make his sign. “Word is they hunt down dissidents. They clash with the Fae Knights a bunch, I think.”

“But the Acolytes are allies of the Dark Order, and have always been,” Gavin pointed out. Even though he’d not yet been allowed to join, Gavin had spent the last year learning of the cult’s history. “Why would these… Hunters come here?”

“Who knows.” Lindsay shrugged. “Anyway it’s better for us non-Acolytes to stay out of sight until they’re gone, so…”

While that sounded reasonable, Gavin couldn’t help but think there was more to it. The way she’d hurried to find him…

But what could the Hunters want from him?

***

“And you are, of course, welcome to stay,” High Priest Gustavo stated blandly, the scowl on his face belying his mood. “But I must draw the line at searching the premises. This is a holy temple, and its many sacred secrets are not to be shared with outsiders.”

The Hunter’s cowl threw their face into shadow, making it impossible to recognize any features. Their voice was sibilant and smooth and utterly unremarkable.

“The Remnants must be eradicated. They are clever and swift to hide. You might not even have noticed them lying amongst your midst.”

“Are you accusing us to harbour enemies of the Dark God?” Gus bristled, his face darkening. “Are you implying we fail in our duties to the Blood Mage, he who is the Right Hand of Punishment, he who serves His Darkness loyally-”

“We followed the trail,” the Hunter interrupted him, voice harsh. “It lead here.”

Silence spread through the crowd, before a murmur rose like a wave. The possibility of a sun worshipper hiding amongst them elicited as much disbelief as excitement. The Hunt for the last Remnants of Sun worship was infamous for its swift brutality. If they were to find one like that here… who knew what consequences that might have.

High Priest Gustavo raised his hand and his voice to be heard above the noise. “Quiet!”

Slowly the murmuring subsided to a whisper, and then to a silence holding its breath. Gus eyed the Hunter severely.

“That is quite the accusation to make. Do you have any proof?”

“We do not report to you, priest,” the Hunter hissed, standing taller. “We are doing the High Lord’s work and answer to Him and Him alone.”

“So you don’t have any evidence,” Gus concluded, eyes narrowing.

“Watch your words, priest, for you are obstructing Justice!” The Hunter snarled, drawing their sword and holding it up to Gus’ throat. The rest of the Hunters followed their leader’s example, brandishing their various weapons. The crowd tensed, with young acolytes crying their outrage. “The Mage is not the only one who spills blood.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” A voice rose above the rest, and Jeremy pushed his way through the crowd. “Hey, dude, relax. The High Priest is simply concerned with following proper procedure. Right, Gus?”

“Right,” Gus bit out through gritted teeth. The blade hovered just below his Adam’s apple. Jeremy nodded, turning to the Hunter with an easy smile.

“See? No need to get hasty.” He folded his arms, hiding his hands in the sleeves of his robe. “Of course we will help our Dark brothers. I will call the staff to a meeting, so you may investigate them for traitors.”

“The staff?” The Hunter lowered their sword, sounding confused.

“Of course,” Jeremy said, amusement clear in his voice. “The Acolytes carry similar oaths to yours, they will not worship nor serve other deities than the one they’re sworn to. You will not find Remnants of the Sun among them.”

“The staff, however, is not inducted into our cult,” Gus picked up the explanation, side-eyeing Jeremy. “If you are indeed correct, you will find your quarry in their midst.”

The Hunters wavered, mustering them suspiciously and exchanging speaking looks. Finally, the leader sheathed their sword, with the others following suit. The tension drained out of the gathering, even if the taste of distrust remained.

“By all means, then.” The leader gestured for Jeremy to lead the way. Gus glowered at them, clearly taking offense, but Jeremy just shrugged magnanimously.

“Follow me.”

As they walked, Gus flagged down one of the younger priests, gaze resting on the delegation of Hunters.

“Call the staff for a meeting wherever Acolyte Jeremy is taking them. Make sure all unanointed are accounted for.”

“Yes, Your Excellence.”

The priestess bowed and hurried off, while the rest of the priesthood closed ranks around Gus.

“That was intense,” one of them, a woman with blonde hair and blue eyes, said lightly. Barbara. She was only recently promoted and showed much promise. “What a bunch of dicks.”

“They are just doing their job,” Gus said calmly, his expression smoothing out. “As are we.”

“Acolyte Jeremy should be disciplined,” another spoke up, frowning his disapproval. “His actions were rash and might yet cost us much.”

“I’m sure he had good intentions,” Barbara murmured, glancing between them worriedly. Gus hummed in agreement.

“I will talk to him,” he offered.

“Talk to him!” An older priest sputtered. “He undermined your authority as High Priest! He deserves to be punished accordingly.”

“He acted as he deemed necessary,” Gus countered, holding up his hand to stop further arguments. “Enough. We will talk about this later. We have students to see to.”

He looked pointedly at the gathered acolytes, whispering feverishly amongst themselves. Reluctantly, the priesthood peeled off to see to their duties. Only Barbara remained behind.

“What about Gavin?” she asked once everyone else was out of earshot. At Gus’ glance, she elaborated, “He’s not inducted in the worship yet, technically.”

“It is not the time for his First Sacrifice.” Gus folded his arms inside his sleeves. “The Blood Mage has chosen him for a most powerful ritual. His blood cannot be spilled until it’s ready.”

“I don’t think the Hunters will like the sound of that,” she mused, crossing her arms. Her fingers tapped on her elbow. “Not with the rumours of us plotting against His Darkness going around.”

“Quite right. So we won’t tell them.” Gus caught her eyes, staring at her intently. “The ritual must take place on the next Blood Moon. I will not allow for fearmongering to interrupt our plans.”

Barbara hummed. “Where does that leave Gavin, though? What do we do about him?”

“He lives with the acolytes, he studies with the acolytes. For all appearances, he is an acolyte.” Gus raised a brow and smirked, small and private. “Who are we to tell them otherwise?”

“So we hide him, basically,” Barbara summed up dryly. “And what if he is the reason they came here in the first place?”

“Then we found him first. Finders, keepers.” He let his gaze wander over the crowd, slowly dispersing at the priesthood’s urging. “There is a reason we require his blood, after all.”

***

One day the sun simply refused to rise. Mankind cried out in confusion as days passed and they slept and slept and slept again, but there was no light in the sky, no sun, no moon, no stars.

‘She is hiding behind the clouds,’ said the High Priestess to reassure her people.

And indeed, dark clouds gathered in the sky, blocking all light. It had not stopped raining since the sun had vanished, a herald of dark times to come. But still humanity clung to the belief that the sun would return one day because they couldn’t fathom a change this big.

So they prayed and prayed, but in the depths of their hearts they knew: the Solar Queen is dead and with her died all the light.

And thus it rained for seven days.

And on that seventh day, the Blood Moon rose.

*** Can’t wait to read more? These chapters are already up on Patreon! [Prologue] [Ch1] [Ch2] [Ch3] [Ch4] [Ch5] [Ch6] [Ch7]

Is this a nightmare Am I in someone else's dream Give me a soul to redeem

Is this the after An ever endless world of pain To drive the faithful insane

- Lost In Forever by Beyond The Black

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visionsofus · 5 years

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Field Trips, Infinity Stones and oh mY GOD IS THAT SPIDER-MAN?

CH1 | CH2 | CH3 | CH4 | CH5 | CH6 | CH7 | AO3

| Chapter 8 ~ Rumbles and Risks |

Peter's body responded quickly, and he threw himself in front of MJ as the explosion rang out andthe floor trembled around them. Peter squeezed his eyes shut as rubble peppered the back of his Midtown blazer, probably ruining the fabric… May wouldn't be happy.

Peter remained in front of MJ, one hand braced against the window beside them. He glanced down at her and saw that she had brought her knees to her chest and was covering her head with her arms in defence. They both stayed still, waiting for the next explosion to come and feeling relieved when it didn't.

"What the hell is going on?" MJ asked, getting shakily to her feet as Peter helped her.

Peter glanced around at the museum doors, or rather, what was left of them. The explosion had blown them right off and they were lying on the ground not far from where he was standing.

Together, he and MJ walked swiftly towards the museum. The air was thick with dust and Peter had to pull MJ out of the way of a shower of sparks that sprayed down from the ceiling lights.

"Hello?" Peter called out once they had reached the threshold of the museum, "is everyone ok? Can you hear me?"

"Help!" Someone yelled from within and Peter could hear other people coughing and groaning. He launched himself through the doorway, desperate to find out if Ned and the rest of his classmates were ok.

"Woah!" Peter yelled coming to a sudden stop and throwing a hand out to stop both him and MJ from falling to an early death.

The explosion that had gone off below them had resulted in a large portion of the museum floor caving in, leaving a gaping chasm in the centre of the room. As the dust settled, Peter could see some of his classmates on the other side along with Mr Harrington and Abigail, helping people get to their feet. Peter quickly picked out Ned who was helping a coughing Betty to her feet. He seemed unharmed and Peter relaxed a fraction.

"Peter!" Ned yelled when he caught sight of them standing on the other side of the chasm. "What do we do?"

"Just stay put!" Peter called back running a hand anxiously through his hair. What washe supposed to do?

"Peter." MJ said snapping her fingers to get his attention. "Whatever is going on this place isn't stable, we need to get them out.”

"Right!" Peter said nodding and looked up to the ceiling, identifying a set of speakers. "Friday! Status report."

"Yes boss." Friday said promptly, the intercom crackling slightly. Peter started slightly but tried not to think about the way she had just addressed him, it wasn't important right now. "Six unidentified individuals have breached Level 15. Levels 3 to 15 currently do not have power. It appears that the Arc Reactor has been compromised and utilised to cause an explosion on Level 16. My cameras are currently unavailable because of the power outage but I believe they are trying to access Alpha Vault 3."

"Alpha Vault 3?" Peter asked as he tried to take in everything that Friday was telling him and not panic.

"It is where, in the past, Stark Industries has stored other-worldly artefacts and our most dangerous equipment." Friday explained.

"Any idea what these unidentified individuals are after?" Peter asked.

"… for a short period of time the Infinity Stones were stored in Alpha Vault 3 under lockdown until Captain Steve Rogers embarked on his mission to return them to their original locations." Friday replied after a pause.

"Did anyone know about the Infinity Stones being there?" Peter asked.

"The information was not made available to the public."

Peter nodded, biting his lip and pacing back and forth before the chasm.

"What sort of damage are we looking at?" Peter asked as he tried to think of what to do first.

"The explosion caused most damage to the central areas of levels 16-18 as it appeared that the assailants overloaded the energy to Arc Output 2c, located two levels directly below you on level 16, in order to dismantle the security protocols of Alpha Vault 3." Friday explained.

"Shit." Peter muttered and took a step closer to the gaping hole in the floor. "What about Pepper, Happy and Morgan?" Peter asked as the thought suddenly struck him.

"They are currently still in Ms Potts’ office where I have initiated a lock down protocol until emergency services arrive. Should the situation escalate beyond control I believe Ms Potts has access to Mark XLIX, you know it as the Rescue armour." Friday explained. Peter struggled to understand how the situation wasn’t already beyond control but decided to move on.

"How about Shuri, Bruce and Wanda? Are they still at SI?" Peter asked Friday as he paced back and forth around the hole more. It seemed that there was a sort of outcropping around the edge of the room that hadn’t been brought down in the explosion that could be a feasible route of escape.

"The three of them left approximately 50 minutes ago but I have been in contact." Friday reported.

"Peter, we need to get everyone out of here." MJ reminded him.

"Ok, OK, OK." Peter said running a hand through his hair again. "Friday keep me updated if anything changes."

"Of course."

The hole in the floor had to be at least 15 feet wide and gave way to a pure drop. One glance down was enough to tell Peter that even if you survived the 50 foot fall down to level 16, the inferno burning at the bottom would kill you anyway. Peter couldn't tell if anyone from their group had been in the area when the floor had caved in from the force of the explosion, but he prayed not.

God, if only Peter hadn't put the damn suit up in the lab, this wouldn't be as big of a problem now. The elevators were down and while he was quick, he wasn’t sure how long it would take him to run up 10 flights of stairs, he couldn’t even recall seeing a stairwell on Level 27. He racked his brains trying to think of any possible way to get the suit down but came up empty handed. He had to do this now, as Peter Parker.

Peter turned towards his classmates who were slowly gathering on the other side of the pit, looking in despair at what was blocking their path to escape.

"Hey everyone!" Peter said waving his hands to get their attention. "We're going to get everyone out but you're going to have to be patient!"

"Why can't we just stay here until actual emergency services arrive?" Flash asked indignantly, stepping on what must have been a particularly weak part of the floor as it caved under his step. Mr Harrington managed to grab onto Flash’s collar and yank him back in time to save Flash from falling down with it.

"That's why!" Peter yelled back.

Peter turned to MJ, "Clearly the floor isn't stable so we need to get everyone over here asap so we can get them out of the building. I'm going to go over to their side and then I need you to help them from this side, can you do that?"

MJ nodded fiercely and followed Peter over to the side of the chasm.

Peter looked down at the ledge he was going to try and get people over. It wasn't more than a foot wide and the concrete underneath looked frighteningly cracked and weak. What made it worse was that the ledge tapered into barely a foot’s width about halfway along before widening out again. It would require patience and care to cross. Peter pressed one hand against the wall beside him and took a deep breath, trying not to think about the drop below him and at the same time convincing himself that even if he fell, he might survive. The same couldn’t be said for the rest of his classmates. Peter tested his weight a few times as he crossed and was relieved to find that the ground remained strong, showing no indication of cracking… yet.

One by one Peter began helping his classmates across, carrying those few who had been injured and couldn't walk while Mr Harrington instructed the rest of the class to stay calm. It was a slow process and by the time they were about halfway through the class the remaining students were growing antsy, each wanting to be the next to reach safety.

"Slowly." Peter cried as one of the students stumbled along the ledge, a fraction of concrete breaking off. Disregarding Peter's warning, he ran along the edge, grabbing the outstretched arm of Mr Harrington, who had now taken over MJ’s role.

"Not that fast." Peter said to the next student.

Sweat was trickling down the back of Peter's neck and each time a student made it across he breathed a sigh of relief. The fire below definitely wasn’t helping things. The growing blaze had resulted in the air becoming thick with heat and the rising smoke.

"Ned." Peter said reaching out a hand and helping Ned step onto the ledge.

"This is freaking insane." Ned muttered taking the hand Peter offered and edging his way around the chasm.

"Tell me about it." Peter replied as he watched his friend slowly make it across, taking Mr Harrington's arm on the other side and jumping to safety.

"Me next!" Flash exclaimed desperately, trying to elbow his way forward but Peter put an arm out to stop him and gestured for Abigail to go next so that she could start leading students down the stairs to safety. She squeezed Peter's hand tightly and nodded thankfully before she stepped shakily onto the ledge. She reached the other side quickly and encouraged the students to follow her swiftly out of the museum.

"Hurry up, Thompson, Parker." Mr Harrington said, somehow keeping his cool despite it all.

"Careful, Flash." Peter said as the other boy brushed aside his hand and crept out onto the ledge.

Flash had just reached the thinnest part of the narrow path when Peter felt the hair on his arms stand up and the familiar hum of energy below. "Stop!"

"What!" Flash yelled frantically, his back pressed against the wall.

"Everyone out!" Peter yelled at his remaining classmates as he heard the energy crackle in the air around him. The ground beneath Flash's feet cracked.

"Flash I need you to jump." MJ said on the other side, stretching her hand out. Unlike the rest of their classmates who had turned tail and fled for the stairs, she had remained behind. Mr Harrington appeared to be trying to keep an eye on the three of them but was distracted when a student suddenly collapsed and he was forced to carry her from the room.

"I can't." Flash said shaking his head, looking directly down at the hole below them and the fire at its bottom.

"Flash you need to go now otherwise the ground is going to cave and you will fall." Peter urged but it was too late. Another explosion went off below them somewhere and the ground trembled. The floor under Flash's feet gave way.

"No!" Peter yelled, throwing himself to the ground and lunging for Flash. He grabbed Flash’s hand only to find that the other boy’s weight dragged him over the edge. Peter managed to grab onto what was luckily, a more stable piece of the remaining floor. If it weren’t for the powers, he had been gifted they both would have fallen down into the flames. Speaking of the flames, they had risen, fuelled by the second explosion and if Peter had been hot before, it was nothing compared to things now.

"Peter!" MJ yelled as more parts of the floor collapsed and she was forced to take several steps back.

"Goddammit." Peter groaned, not because Flash was heavy but because his weight was twisting Peter's shoulder at an odd angle.

"I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die." Flash was repeating in panic as he hung suspended above open space.

"Shut up otherwise I willdrop you!" Peter yelled, he couldn't think straight with Flash's babbling.

"Another explosion has been set off, I believe that they are now in possession of weapons procured from Alpha Vault 3." Peter heard Friday over the intercom but didn't have the time to reply.

Keeping a tight grip on the ledge that was now supporting himself and Flash, Peter looked about desperately for anyway to get them over to where MJ was standing. It was too far away for Peter to reach, especially with Flash dangling from him, even if Peter were to start swinging the boy like a pendulum. The distance was too great.

Peter looked below them, searching for any way to get Flash to safety.

The floor below them, level 17, had been largely blown out by the explosion as well but Peter could see a portion of the floor off to the left below them. If he could somehow get Flash to fall in that direction, there might be hope. Peter's brain frantically ran the calculations, but it was difficult to concentrate, what with the heat from the fire and the fact that his backpack was slowly slipping further and further off his shoulder. One of the straps had come loose when he had fallen and now there was barely anything aside from the shoulder of his blazer keeping it from falling down and hitting Flash in the face.

"Ok Flash." Peter said as Flash looked up at him in terror, the movement shooting pain up Peter's shoulder as the other boy swayed back and forth slightly. "You see the floor below us, to the left where that table is?" Peter asked peering below them.

"You have to be kidding." Flash whimpered.

"I'm not.” Peter said bluntly.

"I'm gonna die, it's too far."

"No, it's not." Peter said. "I'm going to start swinging you and then I'll count to three, on three I'll let go and you have to do your best to get to that patch of ground."

"It's too far."

"No, it isn't." Peter repeated, squeezing Flash's hand as tight as he could, hoping the pain would cut through his classmates' shock. Flash flattened his mouth into a straight line and breathed in deeply through his nose. Taking that as a yes, Peter began swinging him, each movement bringing him closer to the correct orientation it would take for Flash to reach that patch of floor.

"Peter what are you doing?" MJ yelled in panic, but he didn't reply.

"1…" Peter said, wincing slightly as his shoulder twinged in pain. "2…"

"Peter I can't." Flash said shaking his head in a panic.

"3!" Peter yelled, grunting as he swung Flash back one last time and made to let go of the boy’s hand. Flash however, had other ideas, and tried to keep a hold of Peter's hand even as the force of the swing sent him flying down. Peter yelled as he lost his grip of the few centimetres of ground that he had been grasping onto.

"No!" MJ screamed running to the side of the pit.

Peter twisted as he fell but his instincts were quick to react, grasping at a water pipe that was protruding from the destroyed concrete of the floor. Peter grasped it tightly and once he was no longer falling, cast his eyes down to the floor below feeling a huge wave of relief wash over him when he saw that Flash was lying safely on the ground. It seemed he was unconscious but at least he wasn't in the fire below. Peter breathed a sigh of relief and was about to pull himself up when he felt the weight of his backpack slip from his shoulders.

"No!" Peter yelled, spinning and grasping at thin air as the backpack sailed out of his reach. Peter felt as though his heart had plummeted along with it. All Mr Stark's files were on the hard drive concealed in that backpack. All the time and research Tony had dedicated over the last 14 years would be gone as soon as that backpack hit the flames. Work that he had left in Peter’s care. Work he had left for Peter to develop, a legacy for Peter to carry on his shoulders.

Peter watched in horror as the backpack sailed down towards the fire below. It fell one floor, two floors and suddenly caught onto a protruding metal rod. Peter heard the fabric of the backpack strap tear on impact and saw the way it continued to fray as it swung there, only meters above the fire below, swinging backwards and forwards.

"Peter, come on!" MJ said extending her hand, though it were far too far to actually reach.

Peter looked up at her and then down at his backpack in panic. It was starting to slip down the metal pole and if it fell again there would be no hope. Peter thought of performing a similar manoeuvre to the one he had just successfully done with Flash, but the backpack was too far down and too far away from any stable ground for it to be safe. Peter could fall but he would have no webs to pull himself up… unless.

"Karen!" Peter yelled in desperation as he hung there looking down to the fire.

"Peter." He almost cried in relief when he heard her familiar voice over the intercom.

"Karen, I need it." He said, the smoke that was now billowing up from the inferno below making his eyes sting. Peter cast them upwards to the white ceiling above, now tarnished with soot and the lights that flickered there. "The suit."

"You left the suit at Level 27." Karen reminded him.

"I know!" Peter yelled. "But I need it now, like right now!"

"Peter what are you talking about, pull yourself up and grab my hand and then let’s get out of here!" MJ yelled at him angrily.

"When you put the suit in its case you effectively put it offline. Friday's hostile protocol has the upper levels on lockdown, I cannot get the suit online if the lab's system is locked, as it currently is.” Karen explained.

"Then unlock the system! Get it back online." Peter watched as the bag slid further down. The prospect of hurling himself towards it was becoming more and more appealing.

"There is an override key, but it’s a code.”

"What's the code?"

"I cannot tell, it appears Mr Stark set it. Six digits."

Peter groaned in frustration as he hung there. Six digits? It could be anything. Peter racked his brains, Mr Stark wasn't one to do anything randomly, there had to be a significance to the numbers he had chosen, Peter was sure. Six digits… perhaps a date of some sort? Peter cast his mind back to all the important moments he had shared with Tony Stark. The date could be sentimental, but it seemed more likely that, given it was Peter’s lab, it would be a date important to him above all else. Luckily, there was one memory that stuck out above all others.

"So, what do you say kid?" Tony Stark said startling Peter, who glanced hastily up from his microscope, bumping his knee on the workbench as he did so.

Peter winced and rubbed at his now throbbing knee, turning his gaze to his mentor. Tony Stark was seated at the main desk of his personal lab, one that Peter rarely had the privilege of working in and only when Tony was in a particularly excellent mood and wanted the company.

"Sorry?" Peter asked having missed the early portion of Mr Stark’s sentence.

"God you’re as bad as me. I was saying do you want to go and get some pizza? Get some fresh air, it's a Friday night after all, why are we still here working?" Tony said standing up from his desk.

"Um… yeah ok?" Peter replied hesitantly, the idea of a break did sound quite good though he had just been making considerable development on the web fluid he had been experimenting with. But Peter supposed the web fluid would still be there when he returned.

"I'll take you to the best pizza place in New York." Tony said as Peter quickly sealed up his materials so that they wouldn’t be contaminated.

"The best pizza in New York?" Peter asked sceptically as he headed for the elevator but stopped when he realised that Tony wasn't following him.

"Come on kid, walking is a little boring don't you think?" Tony said and Peter watched as he tapped at the arc reactor on his chest and the Iron Man suit began to unravel, enfolding his body in armour. "Foot traffic at this hour is frustrating and I don't think Happy would appreciate having to navigate the roads right now."

"Are you sure?" Peter asked, his eyes flicking over to his duffle bag that he had brought with him for the weekend, and more importantly to the suit that it contained.

"If you don't tell Pepper, then I won't." Peter raised an eyebrow, if anyone caught Spider-Man and Iron Man getting pizza it would be all over the internet and press by the next day. He expected Pepper would find out anyway, there was nothing she didn’t know.

Peter shrugged and grinned, when else was he going to get the chance to have a pizza with the Tony Stark?

"Best pizza in New York?" Peter said tilting his head as he looked down at the slice of Ray’s pizza he held in his hands.

"You bet, I won’t take criticism on this." Tony said, pointing an accusatory finger at Peter as he munched away on a slice.

They were sitting on top of Stark Industries. It was dark now, the moon, at least three quarters full, hung above them in the sky. Her light was almost entirely drowned out by the lights of the city before them.

Peter took a bite of the pizza, hoping that it wasn't going to make his suit greasy. It was pretty amazing pizza, he had to admit.

The two remained like that, eating their pizza and Peter tried not to smile too much. It was a peculiar situation but he’d enjoy it while it lasted.

Being up in the open air was a nice break from the stuffy lab that they had been working since Peter had arrived at SI around 9 that morning. Mr Stark wasn't that big on breaks, but he always made sure that Peter went to eat lunch even if he himself remained in the lab for hours on end. Peter had enjoyed today particularly because he had been allowed to actually work in Tony’s lab rather than working twenty levels below alongside the other interns.

Peter's senses piqued and he felt his ears straining for the sound of sirens or any other indication that something bad might be about to happen below them. After listening out for a minute or so Peter let himself relax a little. He loved and was grateful for his gifts but these days he felt like he was always on edge. Peter felt like he was constantly switched on, like he never really got a break except for when he was sleeping and even then, his Spidey senses had risen him from slumber before. If he became an Avenger was this what things were going to be like?

"Mr Stark?" Peter said turning slightly to look at Tony who was enjoying his second slice of pizza and gazing out over the city. Peter hadn't seen him this relaxed before.

"Mmh?"

"This whole super hero thing." Peter began knocking his ankles together as he dangled his feet off the side of the building. "Does it ever get easier? Like do you ever get any down time? It’s just I feel like I'm constantly on alert these days and it gets tiring. It makes me wonder whether I'm really cut out to do it…"

"Woah, wait, where's all this coming from?" Tony asked in surprise.

"I don't know… just thinking." Peter said mulling his thoughts over a little longer. "you've done this for so long- I'm not saying you’re old or anything-"

Tony frowned and Peter sighed.

"That’s not what I meant, forget I said that. I guess… how come you're still doing it? Aren't you tired? Where do you get the strength to keep going when it all, I don’t know,” Peter gestured out to the city before them as he spoke, “gets too much?"

Tony paused thoughtfully before he answered. "I want to say that I find this job easy, that's it’s what I was always meant to do so I'm ok with the stress and the pain and the fear…" Tony began and looked sideways at Peter as though worried that he was scaring the kid. "But there are difficult days, as there are with all jobs and all parts of life. Difficult days are just a little more common in this field of work."

Tony paused and thought a little longer. "I guess, now don’t think I’m getting mushy or anything, but what helps me is thinking back to how far I have come. That journey was pretty rough for me and I know that I went through that for a reason, and all of it helped me get here. And trust me, the journey isn’t over, I’m still learning things every single day but that’s part of the fun. If that doesn’t work then I try and think about the people that I’m trying to help, the people of this city, this planet, my friends, Pepper… though if she asks you, it’s entirely for her and our future together ok? I need you to swear it.”

"I swear." Peter said grinning and putting a hand on his heart.

Tony laughed and handed Peter another slice of pizza. "It's a lot, I know." Tony said shrugging, "but when you feel torn down by the job, it might help to think about a really important time for you, as Spider-Man."

"What do you mean."

"I don’t know, can you remember a time where you really thought thisis it, thisis what I am supposed to be doing and I am good at it. This is what I'm meantto be?"

"Yeah I guess so…" Peter said slowly and began to recount the time that he had been trapped beneath a collapsed warhouse after things had gone south during his confrontation with the Vulture several months earlier. Peter had been at the lowest of low points and for the first time he had been worried that he might not make it out. When he had managed to get himself free it hadn’t been because of a fancy suit or gadget, it had been his strength and persistence. Nothing else inspired Peter with such determination, and as Tony had said, the feeling that what he was doing was right… it was what he was meantto be doing.

Dammit, even from the grave Tony was still teaching him lessons.

“Peter, I need a code if you want me to get the suit.” Karen said over the intercom.

“Right ok, I got it.” Peter said thinking back to his battle with the Vulture. “Try this: 092317.”

“Pending.” Karen said after a moment. “Code accepted. I’m in and sending the suit your way now.”

“Hostiles have breached Level 14 and are now armed; evacuation protocol is under way and Ms Potts has activated the Rescue armour. The avengers’ arrival is imminent.” Friday informed Peter. It seemed like he would be getting the suit just in time.

Peter breathed a sigh of relief and cast his gaze down to the backpack which was barely hanging on and then back up at MJ who was pacing in distress.

"Peter Parker, I don’t know what the hellis going on, or who you are right now but you need to get back up here, and we need to leave!” She yelled at him.

"MJ leave."

"What?"

"I need you to leave, go down the stairs and get out of here." Peter said looking intently at her.

"Are you insane? I'm not just going to leave you hanging there!"

"I know, but you need to go. Trust me, I'll be fine."

"You are hanging from a water pipe fifty feet over a fire!" She screamed at him.

"Do you trust me?" Peter demanded, apparently shutting MJ up with how desperate he looked.

"Sometimes I question why… but yes I do."

"Then leave." Peter said looking intensely at her. "Trust me and leave."

"Don’t make me regret this Parker, I better see you down there in one piece otherwise I will kill you myself." MJ snapped, shaking her head in dismay. She bit her lip as she turned to leave the museum.

"Go!" Peter yelled praying that she would be clear of the room before his suit arrived. MJ scowled, gave a yell of frustration and stormed out through the museum doors.

"Your suit will be coming in through the glass windows on the south side of the building." Karen informed him.

Peter focused on keeping his breathing steady and stared down at his swaying backpack. Peter yelped as the pipe he was holding onto shifted a foot lower, making his heart lurch. The ground around him appeared to have reached its last defences and was cracking dangerously as the heat from the fire made the building shift and expand.

"Karen-" Peter began but was cut off as another section of the ground gave out to his right and together with the pipe, he was sent flying down towards the fire.

#avengers endgame #spiderman fan fiction #spiderman field trip #field trip to stark industries #typical tropes #field trip trope #Peter Parker #Michelle Jones #Peter x mj #a little irondad/spiderson #more mentor Tony than fatherly but still wholesome #visionsofusfics

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vir-tanadahl · 7 years

Text

As the Moon Rises

Chapter 9

Summary: Isera Lavellan was sent to her brother, the Inquisitor, at the urging of their mother. The world is changing and Isera needs to be there to help.

Solas x F!Lavellan.

[Ch1] [Ch2] [Ch3] [Ch4] [Ch5] [Ch6] [Ch7] [Ch8] [Ch9]

The golden rays of the early morning sunlight radiate of off Isera as she blinks open her eyes. She is an early riser. On a typical day, she would begin brewing potions that are most needed. As the herbs steeped, she would head to the kitchen for a cup of tea and some breakfast. However, this morning is different—no potions are needing to be brewed and nothing in desperate need of her attention.

She rubs the sleep out of her eyes as she turns to look at Solas. There is a soft glow from the sun bouncing off of his skin as his chest gently rises and falls as he sleeps. His face is peaceful and undisturbed.

Isera slides out of bed. Isera wraps a silken robe around her body. There is a small balcony attached to her quarters. Isera makes her way over to watch the sunrise. The smell of the freshly baked bread is coming from the nearby bakery. Her eyes flutter close as she enjoys the sound of the breeze rustles the nearby tree.

The sound of laughter fills her ears. Isera turns around in confusion. The laughter continues. Isera walks back into the room. A small, wispy sphere is dancing around Solas as another laugh echoes the room. Solas is still asleep as a small smile crosses his face. The wisp giggles something in elven? The language is similar to what the Dalish speak, but it’s different. Some of the words sound foreign to her ears, yet familiar.

“Hello?” Isera’s voice is soft as she speaks in elven. The wisp gasps and begins spinning dramatically in circles in fear. “Shh…” Isera continues as she opens her hands towards it. “It’s okay; you’re okay.”

The wisp continues to spin rushing around but with less vigor than before. Isera kneels leaving her palms up and open for the wisp to come to her. “Come here, please. You’re safe.” Her voice is faint.

The wisp hovers for a moment before continuously moving towards her. It speaks in a childlike voice as it nestles itself into Isera’s hands. Isera can only understand certain words. The wisps say something about loneliness, missing, and…Arlathan?

“What are you doing?” Solas asks, his voice rough from his deep sleep. He sits up and looks at her from the bed. The wisp jumps up, loudly squealing as it buzzes around between the two of them. It babbles odder elvish in excitement before disappearing into the Veil, back into the Fade.

Solas studies her as she stands up and walks to the bed. “Huh,” she hums. “That was interesting.”

Solas shifts in the bed. “Did you understand the language?” He asks. Isera shrugs. “Not really. I think it was speaking old elven.”

His shoulders drop as he relaxes as against the wall. “Yes.” He confirms.

Isera is fixated where the wisp disappeared. “How does it know? The Dalish barely have the knowledge of what the old words are.”

Solas nods in agreement. “Time is a concept created by men. The spirits of the Fade have no concept of such things.”

Isera takes a moment to process what he said.

“Bring it back.” She demands.

Solas chuckles at her request. “I cannot will it to come back.”

“If it knows the history of Arlathan or even the Dales, I want to know it. You can bring it back.” She tells him as she climbs into the bed.

He frowns at her statement. “I will not force it to come back, Isera. It is a living creature.”

Isera stares at him, ignoring his statement. “You can ask it to come back.” She emphasizes.

He sighs, “What would you ask of it?”

Isera was quick to answer. “Everything. We have lost so much. We struggle to remember and retain. If spirits hold the key to discovering our history, then I would seek to ask them questions.”

“What if it shares with you something you do not like…something you wouldn’t have expected? Would you believe it?”

“You said spirits only violate in their purpose based on our intentions. If my intentions are pure, I would not think it would lie.” She answers still deep in thought.

Solas hums, but whether it is approval or disapproval, Isera is unable to tell. “Nonetheless, it shall not rejoin us.” He looks towards the window. The sun is higher in the sky. “I should be going before our companions awaken.” He leans over the edge of the bed, grabbing his pants and sliding them on.

Isera crawls over to him. His back is facing her as she dangles her arms around his neck. “If you insist” she murmurs into his neck. Solas is far more muscular and leaner than most elven men and slightly taller. Isera begins gently biting his neck. He tilts his head to the side, allowing her greater access. “You are delaying the inevitable.”

“Would you expect anything less?” She purrs before giving a gentle tug at the lobe of his ear with her lips. He chuckles, gently shrugging her off as he collects his clothing.

Suddenly her door swings open. “Isera, I’m—“ Banreas halts. He stares wide-eyed at them. “—oh!”

Isera freezes, holding her breath for what to happen next. There is an uncomfortable silence.

“Inquisitor,” Solas announces before nodding. He makes his way out of the room. He appears unbothered at the intrusion.

The door shuts and Banreas coughs in discomfort. “I…do I need to?” He mutters. “Should I talk to him about…? Isn’t that the brotherly thing to do? He…took your…virtue?” He rambles. His hands move back and forth before throwing his arms in the air.

Isera snickers shaking her head at the awkwardness of it all. “He didn’t take anything. There was nothing to take. And at least he had pants on.”

“Really? When?” he continues to look at her with wide eyes.

Isera chuckles. “Twelve years ago? I was sixteen, I think? It was a hunter from Clan Sabre. Tamlen was his name?” Isera answers as she walks to the closet and begins pulling out clothing.

“Tamlen? Why does that sound familiar?” Banreas asks as he sits down.

Isera steps behand an Orlesian room divider to change. “He was an accomplished young hunter. Do you remember before the blight began and two hunters went missing and only one returned?”

“Vaguely?” He states.

Isera sighs. “Do you remember when the Keepers ordered everyone to not touch any eluvians if we were to come across them in ruins?”

Banreas perks up. “Yes! I remember that. Keeper Istimaethoriel banned us from searching any ruins without a First for months.”

“Well, that is because Tamlen and Lyna found an active eluvian and he went through. I don’t know what happened exactly. But Lyna returned gravely ill and was taken by the Grey Wardens. Talmen was never found.”

Banreas is humming in thought. “That’s how she became a Warden? I thought they just took her against the Keepers request.”

“I overheard the story from a craftsman from that clan. But you know, they do love their stories.” Isera shrugs. “But what did you want? Or do you want to know about all the people I have had sex with?”

“Oh, no.” Banreas shakes his head. “I came by to say sorry. I should trust you more. I just want to protect you.”

Isera nods. “I understand, but you should trust me more. And I can protect myself.”

“I know, I know. I just…never got the change to be the brother and keep you safe.” Banreas rubs the back of his neck.

Isera stares at him with a small smile. He is scared of losing her again, be it death, injury, or returning back to mother. “I’m the oldest, I protect you, silly.” She jokes as she steps out from the divider.

Banreas snorts. “You are older by a minute!”

“Still older!” Isera giggles as she hugs him. “It’s okay.”

“Now,” he jokes, “let’s talk about your choice in men.” Isera shakes her head in disbelief. “Let’s talk about your choice in women! Specifically, the one that is not Dalish!”

“Anywaaaay” Banreas changes the subject, as he steps back from here, “We are leaving in an hour back to Skyhold.”

“Mhm!” Isera hums as she shoos him out. --- Banreas had brought a mage from the court by the name of Morrigan back to Skyhold. He had shared that Leliana had dealings with her in the past, but it is clear that the two hold no love for each other. Banreas made a comment on how he met her son and only described him as polite, but odd. Morrigan also brought an eluvian.

Isera had argued with him that it was dangerous to have. She reminded him, again, of what happened to Tamlen when he found one. Banreas assured her that Morrigan assured him that the eluvian was safe. She was still skeptical.

Secretly, Isera had snuck into space where the eluvian is being kept. It is the same space that had the mural that Solas had created for her. Thus if she was caught, she had crafted an excuse for being there.

The mirror was inactive and appeared clean of any taint or dark magic, but Isera still did not trust the intent of the witch.

Rumors have been swirling about Corypheus’s next move. There had been Red Templars seen scouting in the Arbor Wilds. There are whispers that there is an elven temple he is trying to gain access to.

---

Isera is sitting at her desk studying the circlet she stole from the Winter Palace. It has been extremely well created. It is golden with two small arches that settle inches behind the ears, Isera believes the gems are that decorate the circlet are white moonstones. Her mother, at one point, tried to teach Isera about healing gems, but Isera hadn’t been a good student.

The gems are glowing a dull, off-white color. It clearly has magical properties, but they are dormant. To her knowledge, Southern Thedas does not keep track of the moon cycle to the complexity that she is needing.

The Seers in Rivain did. They claimed that the cycles of the moon brought different magical properties out and overall strength of a spell.

Isera taps her fingers against her desk as she becomes impatient. She has a vague recollection of a spell that she had participated in years ago that involved moonstones. It could be worth the effort of recalling spell if it could unlock the hidden magic. She will need alcohol, extract of Royal Elf Root, the salve of Andraste’s Grace, a wind chime, and a bowl.

---

The moon is beginning to rise as Isera hangs the wind chime off a nail. It sings as the wind starts to blow gently. It is brighter than normal. The light of the rising moon bounces off the misty clouds that are hanging low tonight. If she remembers correctly, the moon will be at its highest point very soon.

The wind chime is meant to attract the spirits. She can see them peeking through the Veil. Isera welcomes the spirits into her. The Seers use spirits to assist with more powerful spells. Isera sits down and opens of salve of Andrate’s Grace scooping some of it onto her fingers. She begins tracing a rune onto her forehead, cheeks, and the top of her hands while whispering a spell.

The spirit is calm, gently speaking to her and guiding her through the ritual.

Isera feels the spirit guiding her movements as she places alcohol and royal elf root into the bowl. She begins humming as the moon aligns. The moonstones start glowing and vibrating with awakening magic. Isera and the spirit begin chanting as she adds the circlet into the bowl. There is a magical charge that bursts inside her. It is done.

Her fingers are tingling, and arms feel heavy as the magic dissipates. She welcomes the spirit to leave her as she falls backward.

Isera wakes up as the sun begins to rise and a raven nipping at her face. She groggily sits up as she looks around. There are scorch marks stretching out from where she is at. The magic was stronger than she prepared for. Isera grabs the circlet from the empty bowl and fiddles with it. It looks the same.

Isera sighs as she climbs down the stairs into her quarters and tosses the circlet onto her bed. There will be time to try again later.

#solas x lavellan #solavellan #solavellan hell #solas x oc #solas x inquisitor #dragon age solas #solas #vir writes

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