#de sardet fanfic

[am-i-dead]

Vasco: You need a hobby.

Kurt: I have a hobbies…

Vasco: Fawning over De Sardet isn’t a hobby.

[shewithoutrain]

I have just discovered, in the following order:

1. Greedfall (don’t come at me, I know I’m late to it, I’m a busy woman okay?)

2. CAPTAIN VASCO (my feet? Knocked off. My romance? Locked in.)

3. “It’s a ship. Not a boat.” “…Apologies.” (Tell me why female De Sardet says that with such sass but I headcanon male De Sardet being flushed embarrassed floundering in front of this perfect human specimen of a Naut.)

4. BISEXUAL Vasco

5. MALE DE SARDET CAN HAVE HIS HEART BROKEN BY CAPTAIN KURT ON DAY ONE (or so this one fanfic I read said but I pray that it is canon)

I feel a repressed sadboi mage De Sardet mesmerised by the free-spirited, sea-lead Vasco fanfic coming on and I will NOT apologise for it.

(Vasco is equally enchanted in return by the handsome, stammering noble with the exquisite blush and clumsy handling of weapons and such little regard for his own talents (and looks) and he hungers to draw the tempest he can sense confined beneath the trappings of nobility to the surface.)

[whimsyswastry]

It's finally done! This is my first multi-chapter story that I've actually finished. It's only 8k, and took me over four years to finish, but I could not be more proud that I can FINALLY FINALLY say I finished a WIP.

AO3 Link

[ragingbookdragon]

A Sailor With Nothing

Vasco x De Sardet

Word Count: 1.4K Warnings: None

Author's Note: Hi, I started playing GF again and I'm back on my Vasco whoring shit. -Thorne

**********************************************************************

Vasco wakes slowly, like the waves that crash against the hull of the ship when they’re docked at port; it does sound unusually quiet on the ship though and something tells him to get up and go see what his men are doing lazing about, but he can’t find it in himself to rise. Sun streams through the window in his cabin as he shifts in the bed, arching his lower back as he digs his face further into the pillow. The warmth bleeds along his back and he lets out a long sigh as he begins to lull deeper into sleep once more. That is until the scent of cinnamon and leather reaches his senses, and he cracks a single golden eye open, taking in the crimson walls and unfamiliar portraits on the walls.

He realizes all at once that he is in fact, not aboard his ship nor is he in his bed in his captain’s quarters, but in an unfamiliar yet very familiar bed. He lifts his head, blinking blearily around the room, then he turns to his side where he sees De Sardet quietly flicking through a few documents that Petrus wanted him to review from the night before.

“You snore like an old dog when you’re completely exhausted,” he says without moving his sharp eyes from the pages. “Did you know that?”

Vasco blinks again, flopping over onto his side to lazily stare at De Sardet. “How long have you been awake?”

“A few hours, give or take a couple minutes.”

“You should’ve woken me,” Vasco mutters, rolling onto his back, though he inconspicuously shifts closer to De Sardet’s side. “I’m sure the others are wondering why we haven’t set out yet.”

“And yet, none have come up here to tell me that they want to, so I think we’re in the clear.” De Sardet absentmindedly curls his arm around Vasco’s head, palm flat along his toned and tan chest, thumb brushing circles in his skin. “How are you feeling?”

“Not as sore as I assumed I would be.”

“I can’t help but wonder if perhaps that is a good thing because I was thorough on preparation or if it is a bad thing because I didn’t perform well. The latter would severely damage my pride.”

Vasco can’t help but snicker and he turns his head, lips brushing against De Sardet’s hand as he replies, “Preparation was good, and you were even better.”

“Well, now I feel like you’re just stroking my ego.”

“I am, but don’t let it go to your head,” he murmurs, turning back to face him. “It’s in fact, quite large.”

De Sardet still hasn’t looked at him, and Vasco hopes that the next words that come from the Legate’s mouth after this aren’t what his worst fears are. Because he’s slept with nobles before but he also knows that this might be the last time he ever does.

He clears his throat quietly, gazing out the window as he repeats aloud, “Those who fear the waters should stay within the shore’s sight. Those who fear the pain that love procures, should shun the flames when love endures. And both shall be safe from founder and blight.” His fingers dig into his ribs in hesitation. “That’s the next part of the poem. De Sardet…are you afraid of sinking?”

“Hmm…”

It’s a quick and clean grunt that severs every muscle in Vasco’s young and fiery heart. A flame so carefully tended suddenly snuffed out, deprived of life. And it hurts. It hurts worse than the first time he’d ever gotten his heart broken.

“I understand,” he murmurs, trying not to let his heart fall out of his throat, tears in his eyes as he slips from the warmth of the noble beside him, feet touching the cold floor that causes the second break in reality as it really comes to life that De Sardet didn’t want him like he did. How could he be so foolish as to offer a noble his heart? Him, a man with nothing to his name, nothing to offer De Sardet in terms of equality. A single sailor with nothing. “I swear I won’t let this affect our work. I’ll see to it that—”

“For if water could quench loves dying embers, your love that burns and pain and severs, I would douse this fire with the sea of all my tears.”

Vasco stops dead in his tracks, staring up at De Sardet in shock, fingers stilling from where he was tying his pant laces. Did he just—

“Such an impatient lover I have,” he notes, finally looking up over the documents; his eyes pierce the very depths of Vasco’s soul as he adds, almost chastising, “You are not the only one who has read that poem more times than he cares to admit in order to one day speak it to the one he loves.”

“You…you feel the same?”

De Sardet merely raises a hand, crooks a finger in a beckoning motion that books no room for any other answer than to obey; and Vasco obeys, crawling back onto the bed as he watches the Legate set the documents on the table followed by the glasses he’d been wearing, and Vasco has half a mind to make a joke about him being hard of sight and that’s why his accuracy is terrible.

He pulls Vasco down atop him, wrapping his arms around the Naut’s bare back, one arm secured tightly around his middle, the other hand firmly at the back of his neck, thumb brushing the base of his skull.

“I thought you didn’t feel the same as I.”

“Now we know to wait before we jump to conclusions, Captain Vasco,” he retorts, tugging at a caramel strand; he sighs wistfully, hugging the sailor impossibly close as he buries his nose in Vasco’s hair, breathing in the scent of gunpowder and sea salt. “I would follow you to the ends of the earth if it meant I would be with you forever, Vasco,” he murmurs, hand shifting from the back of his neck to cup his chin, tilting the sailor’s face to look at him; he gently caresses the cheek of his lover and confesses, “I love you.”

Vasco’s entire body feels as light as the sail catching a breeze and he smiles at De Sardet. “We shall set sail on the bitter seas together, my Tempest.”

The man’s expression softens in a way that Vasco has never seen before and suddenly knows that it is only for him; he lays his head back down on De Sardet’s chest, eyes slipping shut as he breathes in deeply, all negative feelings leaving his body.

And as much as he doesn’t want to say it, he does. “And we should begin to get ready. We can’t waste daylight. We’ve too much to do.”

De Sardet lets out a long and whiney sounding groan, wallowing against the bedsheets as Vasco laughs. “I do not want to move. I want to stay here all day.”

I want to stay here all day with you. Is the unspoken that has goosebumps rising all over Vasco’s body and he rises slightly, shimmying up De Sardet’s body until he can bury his face in the noble’s neck. “We can spend one more hour here.”

“I am the Legate of the Congregation of Merchants. If I so choose to stay in bed all day with my lover then I shall.”

It makes Vasco giddy to hear him be called De Sardet’s lover. “One hour.”

“You’re no fun.”

“Someone has to keep you accountable.”

“Then in turn, someone must also keep me satisfied,” De Sardet purrs, and it takes all of one intake of breath before Vasco is staring dazedly up at the Legate who is wearing a rather hungry look. “Well, well, well, look what we have here. I seem to have found my source of satisfaction.”

Vasco squirms under De Sardet’s heavy grip, suddenly very aware of how close their hips are, practically slotted together. “De Sardet…” he starts. “We don’t have enough time for this.”

“Oh, we have enough,” he replies, dipping down to take the sailor’s lips in a searing kiss that has Vasco panting when they part, body set aflame with desire; De Sardet nudges their noses. “I love you,” he murmurs, fingers tracing at the black-inked tattoos along Vasco’s chest and abdomen.

The Naut swallows thickly, unable to fight the fluttering in his chest as he breathes softly, “I love you, my Tempest.”

[ithinkthiswasabadidea]

Slightly losing it over the fact that there's 269 De Sardet/Vasco works on AO3, compared to just 29 De Sardet/Siora fics 😳

I understand the favouritism though, they really struck gold with a handsome, honourable, sea faring swashbuckler of a man, with Vasco 😍

[love-grove]

Whispers of the Sea

Vasco/De Sardet story.

Summary:

De Sardet gets a note to meet Vasco on his ship at night. He could never have predicted what was to come.

[greenedera]

Constantin d'Orsay and Elise De Sardet. Well before setting sail for Teer Fradee, they share a bottle of red wine, while the rays of the sunset envelope the garden of Palace D'Orsay in a golden, magical atmosphere. By some interplay of light, maybe caused by the branches of the trees, there is a bizzarre shadow behind them.

This painting was commissioned by Zymotica and as cover image for her amazing fanfic, "Unfair, Cousin," - available on AO3  Zymotica agreed to release the high res to the fandom.  Soon I'll upload it, the work-in-progress pictures and the entire Art Process video on my Artstation. Gallery of my other GreedFall >artworks<

[wiltf]

Many things had been apparent the moment Kurt had been assigned the posting. First and foremost, the upper crust of Serene were just as obnoxiously obtuse as he had been led to believe while out in the field with many who had taken assignments for them before. Secondly, the apologetic looks from his former unit were a lot more telling in hindsight after he had taken his first steps into the browning courtyard, only one tree left standing.

And the third? No sheer amount of preparation or meetings would have given him the understanding that he would spend the first hours of minding noble children following a trail of apple scraps through the d’Orsay manor.

All of it led him to the last tree that still bore leaves within Serene. His assessment, based on the last few weeks of getting familiar with the streets once more. Moved by a wind not felt. Idle whistling, the almost jaunty kind that reminded him of taverns after dark and a small instrument being played he couldn’t place.

One, two, three steps closer. Things he should have known, as he looks up in between leaves, to see those pairs of eyes swivel down. Caught in the sunlight, silver sparkling in hand. Bright red apples in a basket that hung precariously from a branch. If Kurt had to hazard a guess, the children had made themselves quite comfortable in their tree, and he was intruding.

“Apologies, Lord d’Orsay, Lady de Sardet, I did not intend to startle you.”

“You did not startle us!” the boy squarks, clearly more bark than bite already.

Every inch of him spoke of the curl of disgust Kurt had been met with after meeting with the Prince, when speaking of young Constantin. Knobbed knees, marked shirt. There was a shine to his eyes that Kurt would put towards defiance — an explanation why his father perhaps did not speak so highly of him. A dozen training regimes that could be used to temper it into something that could be used, but Constantin pushes himself to stand up in the trees, one finger pointing.

“Who are you to step onto my land?”

Kurt can feel his lips quirk, smothers it. Bows, for effect. “I have been assigned your master-at-arms, my lord, by your father.”

“So, you’re Kurt.”

“Indeed, my lady, you are well informed.”

Whereas the little lord was round faced and smarmy, his cousin sat quiet. Thoughtful. Never a good sign with soldiers, Kurt knew well. Think too hard, and they might come up with ideas. Another thing that had been spoken of, except he remembered the way the Prince seemed to lavish in the way he spoke of his niece’s intellect. Her adaptiveness. The mark that sat on the left side of her face, as if Kurt too should be in awe.

Instead, he offers a hand. To one, both, neither. “Should we begin, your highnesses?”

“He’s the prince, not me.” Thumb hitched towards her cousin. Three second warning, as she unhooks the basket and lets it fall to the ground, sliding knife into pocket. Quick and practiced movements that tell Kurt more time had been spent in the tree than she would admit, and she slides down beside him.

Claps her hands together, ridding herself of any lingering dirt, then looks up. “Come on, Constantin.”

“O-oh, okay!”

Drops the instrument first, which Kurt has a split second notion to dive for.

[inquisitor-of-hearts]

Trade You for a Favour

Female De Sardet/Vasco

De Sardet does not feel well after boarding the ship to Teer Fradee, but there is a cure for every disease as they say. Minor spoilers for the main story.

Rating: G/Teen

Word Count: 2,015

(picture source)

Three months.

A journey of three months, they said. And De Sardet was feeling it all coming up in her now, a whole three months of venom in her, with every sway of the Sea Horse.

 “Green Blood. You don’t look so well.”

 Yeah, no shit, she thought.

 Her hand against the wooden frame of the bunk bed, she looked up at him in annoyance. Kurt did not seem to have any trouble not spilling his guts, but he had probably sailed a few more times than her. Even so, he was practically asking for a snappy comeback.

 “Oh really now?” she asked in a tone painfully sarcastic. “I think I look perfectly acceptable, given that it’s my third time at sea.”

 Her grip around the wooden beam tightened. It had cost her too much effort to speak.

 “Third time?” her former trainer asked in surprise. “I could have sworn they asked you at least half a dozen times to cross one sea or another.”

 “When I was still playing with dolls?” her voice reached a pitch higher in disbelief about her companion’s lack of common sense. Then it hit her again, like something was turning her stomach upside down. In a pleading manner for him to stop the teasing she waved him off with her free hand. Kurt knew that each time they had asked her to cross a sea, they had asked him to tag along as a personal guard anyway, and she was in no shape to argue.

 “Never remember seeing you play with dolls. You must’ve hid them whenever I came around.” He laughed quietly, sunken into a brief moment of nostalgia as he let his side rest against the same bed frame, facing her. Their eyes met briefly as none of them carried the conversation, but as a trail of sweat made its way down De Sardet’s temple, she averted her gaze.

 “Maybe you should lie down--”

 “Leave me!” she demanded as he had barely made the suggestion, her patience at the limit.

 “I just meant to--”

 “Leave. Immediately!” she demanded with more emphasis, barely able to keep her gaze on him. He must have gotten the message at last, as he stepped away from the bed, his hands raised in defeat.

 “Fine. Fine.” he appeased, already walking out of the door, barely audible remarks making it past his lips. “Fancy nobles with their delicate stomachs”

 De Sardet heard him well enough but could not be bothered. At last she sank down on the bottom bunk, although she was sure sitting - and even more so lying down - would only make things worse. But she had no choice. Her insides were shaken so hard that she was starting to think her body would soon follow. And they had not even encountered a storm yet! A strong wind and some rain was all it took to upset the sea and her stomach.

 At once her stomach sank deeply in. Maybe it was not simple sea sickness, maybe this was the Malichor, she thought. Another trail of sweat ran down her temple. She needed to lie down. This was too much. Her short boots pulled and shaken off in a hurry, she put her feet up, shifted until she lay on her side and faced the wall. Behind this wall there is nothing but the sea, she thought.

 In a sudden shift, she could feel the withdrawing of the sea deep in her gut, her eyes widened in shock as she internally predicted what would follow. The water only drew so far in before it formed into a wave, then it released full force, clashing against the ship.

 The release came with a hard blast, and De Sardet’s head hit the wooden beam above her. It left her drowsy for a second, confused, and before she was able to question herself whether that had really happened, she fainted quietly.

 --

 Blinking softly, she awoke again. The dim lighting of the sleeping quarters seemed familiar and she remembered she was on a journey to the island of Teer Fradee. And she also remembered she had hit her head earlier now that she felt the pain in the back of her skull. Her hand reached out automatically, and she turned to lie on her back. Letting the fingers run against the back of her skull, the back of her hand brushing the coarsely woven fabric of the pillow cover, the front running along her hair, she did not feel any threatening conditions. Yet again her attention was drawn away, as from the corner of her eye she saw someone sitting on the ground not far from her. She watched him, still from the corner of her eye, sneakily and to not draw attention.

It was the Captain. She could recognize him from his clothes and broad shoulders easily. A small oil lamp was lit next to him to give him just enough light to read in the small book in his hands.

De Sardet tried to see what he was reading, but had trouble finding out from the distance. From what she could tell it could as well be a notebook.

 Her gaze was drawn from his gloved hands to his face, the only part of him revealing his skin, and yet that part was also covered, yet not in clothes but in elaborate Naut markings. The sturdy chin, the perfectly straight nose... the pair of light grey eyes.

 Light grey-- eyes.

De Sardet panicked and looked away immediately, realizing the pair of eyes had noticed her stare.

 The little book in his hand was closed, the gaze on her remained -- or so it felt. She did not dare to check.

 Silence.

 She could still feel his gaze for what felt like hours passing but stared at the top bunk in sheer protest.

 “Do you feel any better?” the hoarse voice finally broke in, and De Sardet eventually felt brave enough to search for his gaze.

 “Yes. I mean--” Out of politeness she rushed to get up, but hit her head against the beams of the top bunk, a sharp painful sound escaping her immediately. Her hand rushed to her head again, holding it where the beams had hit her. At least this time it was a different spot.

 “Are you alright?” the Captain spoke after a brief chuckle. His hand was set down on the floor, as if he was readying himself to get up, but he yet remained seated.

 “I think so.” She sat up carefully, her feet touching the bare wooden floor, carefully ducking her head in this time to not hit the top bunk.

Well, she could not tell him off like Kurt. But he seemed kinder, or at least there was a gentleness in his voice that made her feel like it reflected the kindness of his heart. Or maybe she had really just hit her head too hard.

 “Your comrade was saying Her Excellency De Sardet isn’t feeling so well.” he explained himself after a brief pause, giving the title a certain sarcastic intonation, which she could tell was mimicking her so called comrade. De Sardet’s lips almost parted as she had not expected the man to reveal that information so quickly, especially not after she had played him unfairly just now, pretending she had never looked at him in the first place.

 “I’m-- I think I’m okay.” she smiled nervously. “Or maybe I hit my head so many times that it doesn’t matter now.”

 “I could call someone from the crew to take a look at you.”

 “No! No.” Her reply came a bit too fast. “I mean, that’s not necessary. All I needed was some rest to start with and I think that’s what I need now, too. I didn’t mean to make myself the center of attention here.”

 She laughed nervously, then became quiet.

 The silence was back. Her gaze from him only broke away when she felt the awkward feeling arise in her. There must have been other people sleeping around them already, she realized.

 Vasco set one of his legs up to rise from the ground, and it was in that moment that De Sardet took a shot again.

 “Why--” she asked before she had even formed the question, so at least she had brought out something to put him on hold, “Why would the Captain himself come here for someone suffering from nausea?” It was a dumb question, but it was all that was on her mind.

 Vasco relaxed in his seat, he must have noticed he was not unwelcome.

 “We are used to this happening. Never happened to me, but plenty to the passengers we take, so” His hand disappeared in his coat’s pocket and he pulled out a little vial, “We’ve got a cure. And I just so happened to be around when your comrade mentioned your condition.”

 De Sardet looked at the little container, then again at the gloved hands and his face. She felt like she could never forget his face.

 “Besides, you brought Jonas back home.”

 De Sardet laughed at how serious the Captain seemed to take the premise that one hand washed the other.

 “Think nothing of it... You don’t owe me.”

 “You can say that, but I wouldn’t like to run around with debts.” he concluded and got up at last, holding his little book at his side discreetly. He walked a few soft steps before he stopped right at the bunk bed and looked down at her, holding out the small but sturdy glass vial.

 “Take it. Even if you don’t feel sick anymore, you can keep it for another day.”

 Dark eyes stared at him and she blinked through the sweetest, most innocent glaze.

 “Is this part of the Naut magic?” she asked, making him chuckle instantly.

 “Alchemy is not part of our magic. So no.”

 Her hand was tempted to reach out, if only to accidentally brush her fingers against his.

 “Does this mean we’re even? If I take it? ... I cannot expect a favour from you again?”

 The man chuckled again, this time withdrawing his hand that held the offer.

 “You ask an awful lot of questions.” he remarked soft-spokenly. “Would you rather save the favour then?”

 “... Maybe.”

 The hand stretched out again like before.

 “Take it.” he insisted quietly. “We have dozens of these, and I wouldn’t want anyone on board to be sick. Not if it can be avoided. You can still ask me for another favour, I’ll then see what I can do. Just don’t make it smuggling again.”

 She nodded with a sheepish smile, and slowly reached out for the vial. Out of politeness she would take it, she thought. And indeed the container was so small that a brushing of their gloved fingers against one another could hardly be avoided. The Sea Horse still swayed with the waves, and softly, barely noticeable through the thick fabric of their gloves, the vial was taken and stored into De Sardet’s own coat pocket. It took a moment but the man finally withdrew his empty hand.

 “Thank you” she whispered.

 “If your head still hurts later, tell the crew.”

 “You have a remedy for every sickness?” she snorted, but deep down felt taken care of, along with that warm fuzzy feeling. For which she internally wanted to scold herself because this was getting her hopes up. For what even? This was idiotic.

 “For every sickness at sea. We all hit our head sometimes.”

 “But you wouldn’t happen to have a cure for the Malichor yet?“ she joked lightly, then again felt that feeling arise, then again disliked herself for trying to build on her hopes out of thin air.

 “No, not for that one.”

 “What about heartache?” Where did this keep coming from, she wondered, but her mouth spoke the words without restraint.

 “Maybe a good old drink? That could help.” the Captain suggested.

 “Maybe. I will try to hold my food down first of all.” she decided.

 “You’ll get there. We all do, eventually.”

[a-byss-inia]

Chapters: 6/? Fandom: GreedFall (Video Game) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: De Sardet/Vasco (GreedFall) Characters: Vasco (GreedFall), Kurt (GreedFall), De Sardet (GreedFall), Siora (GreedFall), Petrus (GreedFall), Aphra (GreedFall) Summary:

Time passed slowly for Pheobe. She did not want to look too obvious and go out searching for Vasco, and instead had tried to look wholly unbothered by his absence, but could not stop wondering where and why he'd not come home yet. It had been at least ten minutes, maybe twenty, and she was starting to get impatient. Siora looked to be nearly dozing next to the fire and Aphra had buried herself in another journal, reading up on her colleagues' notes about the island.

There came a polite knock upon the door and Pheobe sat up straight. She did not miss Aphra's attentive gaze as she pushed herself upright.

But it was not her captain at all.

Another little work for Pheobe, @merruschka 's  spunky little De Sardet. She's such a fun girl to write, so different from my own character and a joy to embody. As a professional ghostwriter, I wanted to see how my style in romance novels translated into the world of Greedfall. I liked the effect it had, but I feel like there can always be little tweaks here and there. 

[lykaokrios]

Arena Fears - M!De Sardet x Vasco

Fandom: Greedfall

Paring: Captain Vasco x M!De Sardet

Word Count: 2,047

Description:  Vasco fears losing De Sardet in his fight with a Champion in the arena.

(Poem quote from Tyler Knott Gregson)

Warnings: Mild swearing

My AO3

“I must warn ya, he’s a killer.” “Expecting you to last less than a minute.” The words kept repeating in his mind.

While Vasco had no doubt of De Sardet’s skill, the sinking feeling in his gut after those statements from the bookie and then Candy Cane refused to go away. Followed up with the fact he wasn’t even allowed to be in the arena with him.

He’d stayed quiet as they ran around setting up for the fight, but he couldn’t understand the excitement in Petrus’ voice or the confidence in the Legate’s.

He kept telling himself to remain silent. That everything would be fine. But as he watched De Sardet finish sharpening his sword and the sound of the games master calling his name, Vasco couldn’t hold it in anymore.

He throws himself at De Sardet, causing the man to drop his sword to hold onto him. Clutching onto his armor, the Captain whispers in his ear, “Don’t do this. Please don’t do this.”

“I- Vasco it will be alright,” the Legate assures him, stroking his back and holding him close.

“And if it’s not alright?” He demands, his grip tightening. “You’re going to make me watch you die for this?”

“You know my skill, you know I can do this,” he tries to reason.

“But I don’t know the other man, neither do you. All you know is he kills his opponents, and he’s obviously been a champion this long for a reason.”

“And I won’t be one of them,” he assures Vasco, who’s trying hard to control the trembling in his body. “It’s one fight, then it’ll be over. Please believe in me.”

“One fight,” Vasco repeats, stepping back from his lover. “I- will try to be supportive.”

“You don’t have to watch if it’s going to upset you.”

“I’d rather be there than waiting for someone to tell me,” the Naut hisses at him. “Finish this quickly, and let us not speak of it again.”

De Sardet nods before pressing a kiss to Vasco’s forehead, and motioning for Petrus to take him to the audience.

“Come my child,” Petrus says as he grasps Vasco’s arm. “Let us get into place and allow him to finish preparing.”

“Ok,” Vasco responds emptily. He glances at his lover one last time before allowing Petrus to pull him away.

Once they’re in place, Vasco’s mind continues to torment him with that one statement. “He’s a killer.”

He tries to calm himself, but it seems useless. The smell of sweat, blood, and alcohol thick in the air mixing with his anxiety make him feel like he’s going to be sick.

Either his Tempest wins and they continue on their way like normal. Or he’s about to watch the love of his life be slaughtered for sport in front of a crowd of drunk nobles betting on his life.

If the man killed De Sardet, he’d kill him, Vasco had already decided. Tack, laws, rules, guilds be damned. He’d rather rot in a jail cell than live a life free without him, and with the man who killed his lover walking away.

The game master starts his introductions. At this point it just sounds like noise, not actual words.

The champion jumps down into the arena. A bigger man than his Tempest. Not that he’d not fought massive creatures. Hell Vasco had seen him take down a guardian alone the day they met. But it did little to help his anxiety.

Next De Sardet jumps into the arena, his sword already in his hand. Within seconds they’re both at one another, the sound from clashing of blades echoes through the arena as the people around them cheer.

“Yeah, cut his head off!” The noble next to Vasco screams, his bottle of whiskey sloshing on to the floor.

He grimaces at the statement, gripping the barrier tightly to keep himself from punching the spectator. Petrus gives him an apologetic smile before gesturing back at the arena.

The larger man is obviously stronger. De Sardet was playing to his strengths of agility, but the man had caught him once and thrown him halfway across the arena with a thud. Vasco’s hand immediately snapped to his gun, his finger twitching as he holds it in his grasp.

The Legate was quickly back on his feet, and right back into his typical flips and handstands to maneuver around the champion.

Each close brush of the opponents blade has Vasco flinching. Any second could be his Tempest’s last. He’s unable to tear his eyes away from the battle.

After what seems like an eternity, De Sardet manages to stick the champion through his back, a gasp emanating from the crowd as Vasco finally lets out the breath he’d been holding. The Legate raises his sword in the air before heading toward the exit.

Vasco quickly races to the entrance, knowing that walk too well. He’d been hurt.

“See? Told you it would be fine,” his lover assures him, a forced smile clearly on his lips. “Hand out Vasco.”

“What?”

“Give me your hand.”

Holding his hand out, De Sardet deposits a heavy bag of gold into his palm before stumbling past him to the benches.

“I- Tempest!” He responds flabbergasted. “You’re obviously wounded, and I’ve spent the last ten minutes watching you nearly die and all you have to say is you’re fine and give me gold?”

“I want you to have it,” he says simply. Grimacing as he sits down.

“I don’t need gold, I need you!” Vasco seethes at him. He hooks the bag to his belt and drops to his knees tugging at his lover’s boot. “Let me see it.”

“I’m fine,” he tries to insist, but the angry glare trained on him seems to shut him up.

Discarding the boot and sock, and rolling back his trousers, Vasco’s faced with a deep gash in his leg. “Tempest,” he breaths out quietly.

He pulls back his own coat to tear a shred from his shirt to hold against the wound, and shouts over to the Siora for her help.

As he does his best to stop the bleeding, Siora races over with magic ready. He trades places with her to give her a better view, and instead goes to sit beside him, gripping his hand in his own.

As Siora sets to healing him, De Sardet rest his head on Vasco’s shoulder, a sigh leaving the Captain’s lips as he leans his own head against his and grips his love’s hand tighter.

“When you are finished, we should go see Cornelia,” Petrus states as he walks over.

“Tomorrow,” Vasco snaps out before the Legate can respond. “He’s injured and it’s late.”

“Of course,” Petrus nods. “Do you want help getting back my child?”

“No,” he responds softly. “Siora will finish up and Vasco will make sure I make it back. You can head out.”

“As you wish,” the Bishop nods and takes his exits.

Vasco mutters under his breath, bringing a chuckle from the man beside him. “I’m fine.”

“Are you?”

“He is,” Siora responds cleaning the rest of the blood from his leg. All that’s left is a long angry looking scar where the wound once was. “But you need rest.”

“You are a miracle worker,” De Sardet thanks her, Vasco sending her a quick nod and smile.

“Let us get back then,” the captain says, helping put his lover’s arm across his shoulders, and his own arm around the man’s back. “Don’t put pressure on it.”

“I can still-“ he tries to argue but once again stops at the glare he receives.

Siora helps the two of them out of the fighting pit and up the stairs of the basement before commenting she will hang back on their walk back. “So you two may talk.”

Vasco nods and continues on shouldering most of the weight.

“So…” De Sardet says after a few minutes of walking.

“I’m angry, anxious, stressed, upset, and fucking relieved,” Vasco interrupts. “I could have fucking lost you just so Petrus could anger a noble.”

“It should help Constantin,” the Legate insists.

“Perhaps, or it was a non-existent problem the two of you were trying to solve for him. He’s a governor, I understand he’s your cousin but you can’t intervene on everything.”

De Sardet goes quiet at that, and they continue the walk in silence. Reaching the home, Vasco helps him through the door, then up the stairs with the help of Kurt who jumped from his chair.

“I’ve got the rest handled,” Vasco tells Kurt after they’ve help De Sardet to a chair.

Kurt leaves with a nod, and Vasco starts removing the Legate’s coat and various pieces of armor. Once all his upper armor is removed, he drops to his knees to get his boots off once again.

Once he’s stripped to his underclothes, Vasco goes downstairs to retrieve the water for a bath.

When he re-enters the room, he notices De Sardet examining his leg.

“How is the pain?” He asks as he pours the water in the tub.

“Manageable,” the Legate responds softly. “Did you really believe I would not win that fight?”

“I… don’t know,” Vasco answers carefully, helping De Sardet into the tub as he speaks. “You are skilled, but it was reckless.”

“We live reckless lives Vasco,” he answers, grimacing as he moves his leg to make it comfortable in the small space.

“No, we live dangerous lives. It’s dangerous enough without reckless and nearly pointless fights that could leave you killed with little to no good reason.”

“I thought I could win.”

“That’s the problem,” Vasco snaps back, “You thought about how you felt and how Petrus felt. You didn’t think about what would happen if you didn’t win. How Constantin would feel; how Kurt, Aphra, and Siora would feel. How I would feel watching you be murdered in front of me with nothing I could do, in the name of pissing off a noble and a sack of gold.”

“It wasn’t for just that!” he insists. “If this could even slightly help Constantin isn’t it worth it?”

“De Sardet don’t you just come into my life and show me love, show me everything I could feel, give me more happiness than I’ve had in my entire fucking life then throw your life away!” He hisses at him angrily. “If you were going to so casually toss away your life, you should have never let me get close to you.”

De Sardet goes silent once again at that, and Vasco sighs, pulling the tie from his lover’s hair and beginning to wet it.

Putting the soap in his hands, he runs his fingers through the hair deftly, lathering it in the tension filled silence.

“‘When you have swam in the sea, a lake will no longer do. Everyone else was a pond, but the ocean was always you,’” Vasco recites softly.

“What?”

“I’m scared to lose you Tempest,” he admits. “Completely and utterly terrified. The idea of going back to life how it was before after having known this, having known you…”

“Shut your eyes,” he commands, starting to rinse the soap from his hair.

“I’m sorry,” De Sardet says after he’s told he can open his eyes. “I… really didn’t think. And that wasn’t fair to you. Come here.”

Vasco leans in closer, and the Legate gently cups his jaw and pulls him in to give him a gentle kiss, “I will do better.”

“I believe you’ll try. Don’t promise what you can’t do,” his gaze drifts down to the water in the tub.

“Hey, look at me,” De Sardet states, carefully tilting his lover’s face up toward him. “We’ll discuss these things before I jump into them. I won’t rush into it without listening to how you feel. Actually listening.”

“That’s all I ask,” Vasco sighs, leaning his head into De Sardet’s wet palm against his face. “I’m going down with this ship Tempest, just don’t sink it this quickly.”

“That won’t do,” he teases, his thumb running along one of Vasco’s tattoos. “This tattoo says you’ve not lost a single crew member. I wouldn’t want to make a liar out of your face.”

“Oh shut up.”

“I love you too Vasco.”

[am-i-dead]

Hi! Coming out of the woodwork to say I'm so glad to find even if it's just a small amount of people still in this Fandom! I love greedfall especially Kurt and Constantin! And have you played the DLC? What did you think of it?

Hope you have a great day!

HELLO! I’m loving all these greedfall interactions, ppl in the active fandom gotta stick together lmao

I HAVE played the DLC. I enjoyed it! They had some new outfits and weapons that were in the De Vespe family style, which didn't have fantastic stats or anything, but we're still super neat to look at (and play dress-up with lol). The storyline itself was good too! Now obviously it's just a DLC so it’s not as fully fleshed out as the actual game's plot, but it was a nice bit of change from the main quest. I liked interacting with more ppl from the continent and navigating all that political treachery. PLUS the DLC unlocked some EXTREMELY cute dialogue between De Sarde and the love interest (mine was Kurt obviously). They had a cute little conversation abt getting married after everything was over and my heart MELTED. I wish the DLC unlocked another romance cutscene, because like come on! De Sarde and Kurt just talked abt getting married! LET THEM SMOOCH. But unfortunately not, have to go the fanfic route for that.

(I included Kurt's DLC marriage conversation below the cut if you're interested<3)

De Sardet: You seem worried. What’s wrong? Don’t tell me Aurelia’s scheming has you frightened? Kurt: I’m worried about you, of course, but I’m sure you'll defeat her, that’s not what’s worrying me. De Sardet: Please, tell me what’s wrong? You do know you can tell me? Kurt: Yes, of course. It’s this whole wedding contract business. I’m sure the prince already has some dashing fops lined up to marry you. De Sardet: That’s very possible, you know him as well as I do. But we can always pull the rug out from under him… Kurt: What do you mean? De Sardet: We can wed, once this is over. What can he say? He’s halfway around the world! Kurt: Do - do you really mean what you just said? You do realize that I’m just an insignificant mercenary to him? He would see it as a mismatch. You would surely lose your position as legate. De Sardet: He’ll certainly be furious and reprimand me…but I doubt he’d do much else. He already did his utmost to use me in his machinations on this island. He won’t just give that up. So…what do you think? Kurt: I think I'll be the happiest man in the world when I lead my bride to the altar. I love you so much. De Sardet: I love you too, Kurt.

[another-rogue-trevelyan]

I did... something 😂

This is the first attempt I’ve made at writing fic for a couple other than Cullen and Evelyn. Somehow what was supposed to be a smutty one shot turned into a sexually charged sparring match. I think this will end up being the first half of a one shot. No lemons yet, but there will be!

This is untitled as of yet, and I just felt like sharing since this is the first I’ve ever written for Greedfall. Enjoy a preview of my first ever work for Kurt and Corinne De Sardet! Back to your regularly scheduled Dragon Age content soon 😂❤️

Corinne De Sardet hit the ground with a thud. She coughed as the dust kicked up around her and rolled to her side, rubbing gingerly at her tailbone.

“Your footwork is sloppy today, Greenblood. You’re lucky it’s me and not someone who really wishes you harm.” Kurt stood above her, his tricorn blocking the beating sun as he offered her a hand. Corinne begrudgingly accepted, her pride far more bruised than the darkening patches on her skin.

She retrieved her own fallen tricorn and returned it to her head, covering the worst of the mess of her disheveled braid. She did her best to wipe the dirt from her shirt and trousers. Her overcoat and ascot had been removed long prior in the midday heat.

She and Kurt had been at it for hours. Corinne felt stiff and store as she bent to retrieve her rapier, having been disarmed by her Master at Arms again.

He was right, and that only annoyed her more. She was sloppy today, clumsy even, and though it was just she and Kurt in the Coin Guard’s training yard, she felt embarrassed by her poor performance. Though she probably shouldn’t - Kurt was the first to ever put a sword in her hand. He had certainly witnessed worse performances.

That had been back in Serene, however, and things had changed a great deal since then. While Constantin had struggled even prior to his affliction to adjust to his new role as governor, Corinne had proved herself a capable diplomat. She had created allies in unlikely places, thwarted an attempted coup, and faced fearsome beasts without a second thought.

Why, then, couldn’t she concentrate on a simple sparring match?

The truth, though she hated to admit it, was that her mind muddled around Kurt as of late. What had started as an old childhood infatuation had become something else entirely upon their arrival in New Serene. Corinne was no longer the youth he had trained at the behest of her uncle, but the Legate of the Congregation. They had made painstaking discoveries together about each of their pasts, dismantled corruption within the Coin Guard and uncovered the truth of her roots.

Now, as beads of sweat dripped down her face, she knew how she had gotten so distracted. Kurt was looking at her again with that look - the one that excited and confused her and, ultimately, pissed her off.

That look was not the look of a teacher studying his student. When his eyes wandered over her, they were the eyes of a man drinking in the sight of a woman. Eyes that held a hint of curiosity, admiration, and - dare she think it - wanting.

But Kurt always put a stop to things before they could get any farther than uncomfortable stares, preferring instead to revert back to their old ways and ultimately making her feel utterly infantilized.

“Excellency?”

How long had she been staring? Corinne couldn’t be certain, but she was now very aware that she had been standing with her rapier aimed to the ground, staring awkwardly. She lifted the weapon in front of her, preparing to go again.

“‘Sloppy,’ is normally reserved for Constantin,” she said as they began to circle one another. They tested each other with a few swings, metal scraping together.

“Constantin is always sloppy. For you, on the other hand, this is unusual. Something on your mind, Greenblood?”

His sweaty face glistening in the afternoon heat, for one thing. Just what that glint in his eye indicated was truly going on in his head, for another. The ease with which is muscles moved as he swung his blade-

Wait.

Corinne jumped back too late, rapier once again flying from her grip as the point of Kurt’s blade pointed at her throat.

“I’ve… just had a lot to think over lately, is all.” She swallowed hard, trying to ignore the intensity with which he stared at her down his blade.

“I know things have been… a lot for you, lately. I understand why you’re distracted. But you can’t be fighting like this. You’ll get yourself killed.” He lowered his rapier and retrieved hers from the ground, holding it by the blade and extending the hilt toward her. “Again.”

Corinne huffed as she grasped the blade, then took up position for what must have been the hundredth time. Though this time she hadn’t been knocked on her ass, it was still just as embarrassing a loss.

“Kurt, clearly I’m useless today. Perhaps we should try again tomorrow. I’m sure I have enough bruises for one day.”

“Anyone who wants you dead won’t care if you’re distracted and bruised. I’m not letting you get yourself killed because you’re having an off day. I can’t always be there to watch your back. You need to be able to save yourself. Now raise your blade and try it again.”

She lunged toward him, but he easily parried the strike, which had been performed more in irritation than any thought that it may be a good idea.

“Still sloppy.” He advanced on her, and Corinne barely managed to swat away his strikes with her blade, stumbling backward on exhausted legs.

“Kurt…”

“Come on Greenblood, defend yourself! I know I taught you better than this! What would your uncle think of this performance?”

She swung hard, meeting Kurt’s blade with unexpected force and pushing him back. She advanced on the offensive, landing blow after blow as he frantically parried aggressive strikes.

“Corinne-“

His unusual use of her name did nothing to dissuade her assault as she hailed down upon him. She was an indomitable storm, striking mercilessly as Kurt did his best to block without harming her.

“Corinne, what are you-“

“Stop… treating me…. like a…. child!” she panted through her onslaught.

“I’m not!” Kurt yelled as their blades clashed. They pushed against one another, eyes meeting across the steel. “I’m treating you like someone I don’t want getting killed!”

“You’re talking to me the same way you did when I was fifteen! What are you going to do, tell on me to my uncle? Go ahead! He’s months away by sea!”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it!” Kurt shoved hard, both of their blades swinging wildly to the side as they both stumbled backward. “I don’t understand why you’re so angry!”

“Because I am a grown woman, Legate of the Congregation of Merchants, and the only reason Constantin hasn’t destroyed the colony yet, and you’re talking to me like a teenager with her first blade!”

“Because you’re fighting like a teenager with her first blade!”

Blinded with rage, Corinne swung far too hard. Kurt seized the opportunity and used the force to disarm her again, but this time, as the rapier slid through the dirt, Corinne let the force of the motion take her as well. She crashed into Kurt, sending the two of them to the ground.

They tumbled in the dirt, hats flying and struggling for dominance as both refused to yield. Corinne was lighter and quicker and slipped out of his grasp a few times, but in the end Kurt was stronger. He flipped them as they brawled, pinning her wrists with his hands and her body with his own. She writhed beneath him for a few more moments but had no choice but to concede that he had beaten her.

They panted, gasping for breath as the dirt stuck to their sweat soaked forms. Kurt’s bright blue eyes searched her stormy gray ones for answers, confusion still evident on his face. He smelled of sweat and musk, his body readied in case she was preparing to strike at him again.

“What have I done to upset you so much, Greenblood?” he asked, still breathing hard. His hips were pressed into hers. Corinne struggled not to squirm.

“I am no longer a child,” she said simply. Kurt’s eyes flicked from her face to where her shirt had fallen slightly open and back, swallowing hard.

“I… know that, Excellency. I apologize.”

“I may have been your student, and I may be Legate, but I am still a woman.”

“I know.”

“I won’t be treated like a child.”

“I know.”

“After all we’ve been through-”

“I know.”

They remained that way in silence for… seconds? Minutes? Corinne couldn’t be sure, too distracted as she watched Kurt’s gaze wander from her eyes, to her lips, to her chest, still rising and falling deeply from the exertion. Eventually, Kurt seemed to realize the position they were in, and more importantly, where they were in such a position, and clambered to his feet.

“I… can I walk you home?” he asked awkwardly, helping her up and then gathering their hats.

“No. I think I can handle the walk from here up the street on my own, thank you.” She placed the hat on her head, uncaring that it was still covered in dirt, then grabbed the remainder of her belongings and turned to leave the training yard.

“That’s not what I-“

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Kurt.”

“Corinne!”

Though her name on his lips tugged at her heart, she didn’t wait to see if he had anything more to say.

Since this will be my last WIP of the year, I wanted to thank some friends I’ve made! @chaotic-citrus @hawkeish @dreamerlavellan @noire-pandora @kemvee @aspiritofcompassion @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold are just a few of the lovely people I’ve had the joy to find since starting this blog, and I see and appreciate your continued support. Thank you so much, and Happy New Year to all of you!

[ragingbookdragon]

Still Life To Live

Vasco x De Sardet

Word Count: 2.1K Warnings: Explicit Language, Wee-bit of Angst

Author's Note: Legit this is the first female De Sardet I've written besides the one with Kurt -Thorne

**********************************************************************

She wakes with a sadness still ever-present in her chest as she stares out the window, at a bird-less, sunless sky. The sheets smell like Constantin’s soap, and she can’t help but feel tears come to her eyes. She hasn’t been able to leave his room since they returned from his burial. She misses her cousin, no, her brother. Constantin was all she had in the world other than her mother. The two young cousins growing up, thick as thieves, only for it to end in such a poetic yet so tragic way. She missed him so. Missed laughing with him. Missed being around him. And she missed the moments where she wasn’t plagued with knowing his blood was on her hands, even if in the end it wasn’t his fault but the madness.

“If you know, why do you continue to blame yourself?”

She blinks a few times, coming to realize that her dear cousin is kneeling beside her; her lips wobble as she reaches out, taking his hand. “I miss you.”

“Oh, I miss you, dear cousin,” he murmurs. “But you cannot spend the rest of your life here.” His smile is so soft. “I may not be here in flesh, but I am always with you in spirit.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. “I will not accept something you needn’t apologize for. Cousin, you saved me. You set me free.” His hand gently leaves hers, resting on her head. “If you want to honor my memory, don’t sit here and wallow while the ones you love worry for you. If that is not enough, then you must remember who you are and what you are called to do here. You have responsibility and it isn’t going away simply because I am gone.” He pats her head. “Promise me, you will get up and go. That this pain will not hold you down. I may be gone, but you have gained the world in terms of family. That old man, Kurt, the girls.” His eyes hold a shimmer of humor as he jabs, “And that Naut.”

Her laugh is watery, tears slipping down her cheeks and he’s quick to wipe them away.

“Dear cousin, there is more life to live. Promise me.”

She swallowed thickly and nodded her head. “I promise.” As he pulls away, she grabs his hand and stares into his eyes. “I love you, brother.”

Constantin, in all his spirit, simply smiles and leans over, kissing her head. “I love you, dear sister.”

She blinks once and he’s gone, the place where he was kneeling empty, all that remains of him is merely a feeling in her chest, but something in the air has changed and she rises from the bed for the first time in almost three weeks.

Her entire body aches from not moving and her stomach grumbles like there is no tomorrow. She can tell there is loss around her body, a gauntness where muscle and fat should be, but the mind and such strong emotion could always play with the body, suppressing hunger. She pulls a dress on, tightens the fabric of the corset to fit her frame as she ties various lines of linen and silk to appear somewhat appropriate.

A quick facial wash in the basin of water is all that can suffice for now, as she follows Constantin’s orders of moving on. She has so much to do, so many people to check in with, to greet, lives to maintain, rules to enforce, treaties to sign now that she is essentially acting governor before a new one is assigned.

She inhales deeply, readying herself for the surprised faces of the people as she opens the doors and steps out. Surprisingly, there are no servants, and she takes it as a small mercy, escaping the upper floor to the stairs where she walks down quietly, thinking of how she will explain her absence.

It is only when she hits the ground and walks out into the throne room that she sees her first companion speaking with another emissary; they look up at the doors and the old man smiles at her.

“Child,” he simply greets, and she smiles back at him, a little weak but one, nonetheless.

“Petrus.” She walks over as the emissary bows and leaves them.

“It is good to see you out of your room.”

She nods. “Forgive me, for—”

“There is no need to apologize for how your grief affects you.” He looks at her. “Your cousin was the only friend you had growing up. To lose that so fast…grief is merely an understatement to what you felt.” He reaches up, brushing a stray tear. “We have simply bided our time before you came out.”

“Where are the others?” she asks, looking around curiously.

“Kurt is at the barracks training, Aphra is more than likely returning from Hikmet with new supplies, and Síora went to visit her clan.”

“And what of Vasco?” she inquires, feeling something awfully funny in her chest.

Petrus frowns. “Ah, yes, Vasco…”

“What? Is he alright?”

“Oh, he’s fine, but he is leaving port right now.”

Her eyes widen, heart breaking and panicking at the same time. “He’s leaving port right now? Like this moment now?”

“Indeed.”

“B-but he—but we!” she runs to the window, stares out to see the top of the Seahorse and she feels her chest erupting. She never meant to push him away in her grief and cause him to leave. “Oh no…”

“Child…”

“I have to stop him!” she shouts, already hiking her dress up to sprint for the doors.

“Wait!”

Petrus’ calls fall on deaf ears as she runs down the steps to the grand doors, yelling for the guards to open them and they do, just in time for her to burst down the front steps for all of New Sérène to see. It takes her all of three minutes to run like hell is at her heels to get to the docks and she passes Admiral Cabral who only looks up because a sailor gets her attention.

“Lady De Sardet?!” she calls in shock, rising from her desk to run after her. “What on earth are you doing so frenzied!”

She doesn’t answer but runs to the edge of the dock where sailors are busy moving cargo that didn’t get packed into the Seahorse; it hasn’t even made it twenty feet from the port, so she isn’t too late, but she is late.

“Vasco!” she yells, cupping her hands to her mouth for better reach. “Vasco! Wait!”

She hears something from the ship before he appears at the stern, his confusion giving way to shock but a gladness is in it. “De Sardet! What are you doing here!”

Her hands come to her chest, massaging the ache growing as tears fill her eyes. “Please, don’t leave without me,” she begs. “If you’re leaving, let me come with you. I’ll sail with you, please, don’t—”

“De Sardet! Look out!”

Her turning is too slow, and she is barreled into by a sailor carrying far too many boxes at once. And for all her balance training, she loses it all as she is knocked backwards, foot caught in her dress as she screeches, trying to catch something or someone before she falls down into the frigid water.

The world ripples above her and she tries to fight for the surface but the weight of her dress and undergarments are too heavy and she sinks despite her struggle. Water invades her lungs, and she feels like stone as darkness and cold seep into her body, even as hands reach for her.

***

“She still hasn’t come out?” he asks softly, glancing up towards the third floor.

Petrus sighs. “Of course not. She lost the last remaining family she ever had.”

Vasco bristles, as if he isn’t aware of such a thing. “I know she did.”

“Then why assume she has come out of her grief.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, I merely meant that…” he falls silent, scuffing his foot; something about being around Petrus made him feel like a child again. “I just miss her.”

The old man smiles sadly, laying a hand on his shoulder. “I know you do. Even though we all do, you do much more.” He squeezes before letting go. “Believe me, if she comes out, I will be the first to send her your way.”

Vasco nods, inhaling deeply as he puts the tricorn back on his head. “I’ll be back in a few days.”

“Safe travels to San Matheus, Captain.”

***

His heart stops in his chest the second that De Sardet hits the water and comes up once before the dress pulls her back down and Vasco is cussing a storm as he strips from his belts and coat down to his tunic, pants, and socks before diving overboard for her.

The water is freezing, shocking him to his core but the sun shines enough to lead him to the woman sinking down; he grasps her waist, pulling hard as he kicks his legs with fervor until they break the surface, and he sucks in air as a rope lands near him. He wraps it around his arm and tugs, waiting for the sailors to yank them aboard and when they do, his feet hit the ground, letting go of the rope as he lays De Sardet down on the deck.

She’s unmoving, cold, and unconscious, and Vasco yanks a sailor’s knife from his belt, cutting up the front laces of her corset, ripping it open, and she snaps awake, rolling onto her side with harsh coughs as water makes its way up her esophagus. He rubs at her back, taking the blanket from Jonas who’d gone into his cabin to get it from his bed, and lays it over her shoulders as she rests on her side, breathing heavily.

“De Sardet,” he calls softly. “Are you okay?” She nods, swallowing salt as she nods and shuts her eyes, feeling a shiver run down her body from the chill of the air on her thoroughly drenched body. Vasco gets the hint and picks her up with ease, barking, “Get us back to dock!” the sailors are in a frenzy as he makes his way to his cabin and shuts the door behind him, sitting her down on his trunk at the end of his bed.

He moves methodically, stripping her out of her wet dress and undergarments to her bareness before she can even stop him; he wraps her tight in the blanket before he goes over to his chest of drawers and changes from his own wet clothes before he returns with a long tunic and a pair of cotton pants. This time, he looks up towards the ceiling as she dresses herself, or at least tries to before she mutters, “I need help.”

Vasco looks down, sees her shaking hands, and gently helps her into the shirt and laces the pants so she’s dressed. He then takes her to the bed and situates her before he crawls in beside her, wrapping his arms and legs around her, warming her as best he can.

She breathes deeply and turns in his grip, nose brushing the column of his throat as she tries to practically get in his skin. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, and he hugs her tight.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. That jackass sailor ran into you.”

“That’s not what I’m sorry for,” she answers, and pulls back despite the warning in his throat, looking into his eyes. “I shut you out and you’re leaving. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Vasco, I never meant to push you away.” Tears fill her eyes and she’s almost blubbering at this point. “Please don’t leave me. I need you, Vasco. If I have to give this all up to come, I will, but please don’t leave this island without me.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” he calms, gently caressing her face. “Tempest, I’m not going anywhere.”

“But you’re—”

“I’m just going on a supply run to San Matheus.” He frowns. “Didn’t Petrus tel—” his scowl is much worse. “That old bastard.” Vasco lets out a sigh and takes her face in his hands. “I was simply going to San Matheus to deliver supplies and come back.” His golden eyes bore into hers. “My Tempest, I would never leave you. And even if I were to, I would never go without saying goodbye.”

Her expression is downright pitiful as she asks, “Promise?”

Vasco huffs fondly and he leans forward, pressing their foreheads together. “My Tempest, I swear on my honor as a Naut and my love for you.” He kisses her softly. “Rest, my Tempest. I’m here.” Her fingers clench in his tunic as she buries her face back into his chest, breathing in gunpowder, sea salt, and leather, letting sleep wash over her in his comfort.

[longing-for-my-captain]

Playing greedfall this afternoon running about with my two main boys in my party and my smallest, most innocent daughter who is watching decides to ask me "which one do you love mummy?"

CHILD I JUST CAN'T EVEN BEGIN TO EXPLAIN THIS MOST COMPLICATED AND BEAUTIFUL LOVE TRIANGLE I'VE CREATED FOR MYSELF 😅😅😭😭🥺🥺

[greenedera]

GreedFall fanart - “Sitting on his lap” New sketch dedicated to Captain Kurt of the Coin Guard and Jeanne, my OC narrated in my fanfic "The diaries of Jeanne De Sardet" on AO3.