#fergus being ahead of his times

[danjaley]

It wasn’t until Matthew was born that Louise started wondering if she had been right in allowing Fergus to marry so young. Andrew had fussed a lot over his little son back in the day, but Fergus surpassed him easily. He was just like a child who had had a younger sibling – to be fair, he was the youngest and had missed that experience so far.

As it was slow work spoon-feeding Matthew, he was being fed whenever he wasn’t asleep, and while the ladies took turns at it, Fergus was inevitably present.

When he asked if he should actually help feed the baby, Louise lost patience. “Fergüss! Gentleman do not feed babies. At least not when there are three women and a maid in the house. I understand that you’re worried, but you must remember your position and your duties as the head of the family. Have you attended to your correspondence at all? You might sit down and write the news to Marianne and Rosalie, and also to the Lochinvárs and your uncle William.”

[changingplumbob]

Pancakes Household: Chapter 9, Part 3

Battle of the century or kids playing console games...

CW: Unicorn zombie with minor carton gore

Carson: You don’t think this will be too physically taxing do you

Artemisia: Only for losers

Onyx: Don’t worry Carson, there’s no exercise required

Fergus: I dibs the green car

Onyx: Is everyone ready

Artemisia: Oh would you just press start already

Onyx: First round goes to me!

Artemisia: That’s ridiculous, you must have given me the broken controller

Carson: Or you’ve been practicing, I get to pick next track. Strawberry Fields!

Fergus: Oh no I hate that one, I always get stuck in the strawberry jam

Onyx: Just follow along behind me Fergus and you’ll see a clear path okay

Fergus: Thank you Onyx

Artemisia: I always think it’s so funny how well-mannered you are

Carson: I would have thought you’d find that annoying

Artemisia: Nope, it helps us get out of trouble

Onyx: So see here Fergus, if you go between these two flowers there’s the fast launch ramp

Fergus: And no strawberry jam sinkhole!

Artemisia: Hold on, you’re not entitled to win

Fergus: Just try and stop me Emi

Carson: Come on Artemisia, let’s wipe the track with them

Onyx: Team Pancakes!!!

Kayleigh: I like to hear them play, the house is so quiet with just Carson now

Eliza: Bob and I have been thinking of trying for another one after Fergus becomes a teen. Bob would love a daughter

Kayleigh: And how about you

Eliza: Well I’ve never loved being pregnant but a third kid would be nice

Kayleigh: Sweetie I don’t mean to sound indelicate but have you considered adoption

Eliza: Adoption? Is that legal when I can get pregnant?

Kayleigh: It’s the 21st century, just because you can have them doesn’t mean you need to. Not that I can talk, I had four

Eliza: I suppose that way I would avoid the pregnancy impacting on my work

Kayleigh: And if Bob wants a girl you can tell the agency that, but you can’t tell your uterus that

Eliza: *chuckles* Good point, I’ll think about it. Oh, would you excuse me? The markets just opened in Tomarang

Kayleigh: Go ahead, you’ll not beat me at this chess match anyway

Eliza: Thanks for helping me learn more

Kayleigh: No problem, I’ll collect my husband and get out of your hair. Night

Kayleigh: Come on Carson, time to go

Carson: Just let us finish this last race mum

Artemisia: Oh it’s finished and I’m victorious

Fergus: Thanks again for helping me Onyx, I had a lot of fun. See you for my birthday Emi?

Artemisia: Sure thing, Tuesday right

Fergus nods excitedly and the dinner party disperses.

Happy very cloudy Halloween! The Pancakes decide not to have a party since they had one last night and Bob will need to work tonight. After a quick breakfast the household splits up as everyone has their own tasks to do this morning.

Bob of course wants to get his work out in before shift. Fergus is in a patch of hyper focus with his ADHD and decides to play mad scientist in the treehouse. Eliza decides to do a dance workout since she cleaned everything yesterday and finally Onyx is set to walk Ginger again.

Eliza is dancing away when she pulls a muscle in her back.

Eliza: Ouch! Oh, maybe an adoption is a good idea, I will be a 40 soon

Thinking on this she carries on, working on her other muscles. Outside it’s hard for Onyx and Ginger to make out where they’re running but the pair do their best. Ginger isn’t sure why her dad isn’t taking her for these jogs but supposes Onyx is an alright substitute.

Onyx: I’m back home dad, Ginger is all walked

Bob: *grunts with effort* Did you tell your mother

Onyx: No, she’s busy practicing speech and I didn’t want to disturb her

Bob: Smart choice

Onyx begins their cheer routine, they still have some more solo practice to fit in. All is going well until they fall over on their face. They push up looking around but Bob is busy working his legs and hasn’t noticed. To celebrate Onyx pulls off a perfect flip!

Previous ... Next

[renee-writer]

Single Chapter 23

AO3

Michael and Janet continue to do well. Claire rises to check on them and their mam a few hours after fallen asleep. Her healer’s instinct won’t  let her sleep longer.

 

Jamie remains asleep as does their daughter. She smiles at them as she leaves the room.

 

Jenny sits, feeding the babies. A beaming Ian sits beside her.

 

“Claire, thank you for seeing Jenny safely delivered of our children.” He says.

 

“You’re welcome. They came easy.” She does an exam of Jenny. Her uterus has shrunk down and her bleeding is normal, “You are doing brilliantly.”

 

Jenny gives her an exhausted smile. “Thank you, Claire. I should have never doubted you have anything but well intentioned towards us.”

 

Claire shakes her head. “It is normal to react strongly when being told a truth like mine. Don’t worry.”

 

“I shall get on to finding a husband for Mary as soon as possible.”

 

“Oh, what about Murtagh.” Ian exclaims causing Claire to jerk.

 

“Murtagh lives!”

 

“Aye, he escaped the battlefield ahead of the conquers. You ken they were finishing off any injured? He hid away in a cave not to far from here. Now he works in Inverness as a metal worker.”

 

“Oh, I would love to see him.”

 

“I shall ride out today and bring him here,” Ian states, “he will be surprised. Like Fergus, he refused to see Jamie wed to another.”

 

At her husband ‘s look, Jenny says, “I thought it the right and proper thing.”

 

“It was. Were I not to return, Jamie needed a good wife. Mary a good husband,” She frowns and tilts her head, “Murtagh would be a good husband, if he agrees.”

 

“To see Jamie with you and your bairn, he will be so thrilled that he will agree to anything.” Ian kisses his wife and the heads of his nursing infants before heading out. Jenny grins.

 

“Ian is right. Murtagh is the perfect choice.”

 

“I agree. It isn’t just to get Mary out of the house. Murtagh needs a wife. Mary is a kind and gentle soul. She is perfect for him.”

 

“Aye, and he will make a good father for Rabbie.”

 

“And maybe even have some of his own.”

 

When she returns to the room, Jamie is up. Bree still lays sleeping. The trip took a lot out of her.

 

“ Good morning, Mon dhean. How is my sister and niece and nephew?”

 

“They are all well. Why didn’t you tell me Murtagh lives?”

 

“There has been a lot happening in a short amount of time. I would have.”

 

“Ian believes him perfect for Mary.”

 

He chuckles, shaking his head. “He is right. Murtagh is doing well. A lass to keep house and warm his bed is all he lacks.”

 

She walks up to him. “Is that all you think a wife is for?” Her eyes narrow but there is humor still in them.

 

“Nae,” He draws her into his arms, “they also give a man braw children,” they both look at Bree, red hair spread over the pillow, arms sprayed out, “And courage and strength. I wasn’t  afraid of dying, Sassanach, because I knew I lived in in her. Now I fear. I fear something happening to her or you. Something you would have been protected from, in your time.”

 

“You regret me coming?”

 

“Never! Not in a million lifetimes.”

 

“She is safe for the germs of this time. There is a way to insure that and I have. The strange ‘wee knifes’” She nods over to the needles, “they have medicine that will take fevers away. As for the rest, we have you.”

 

“Aye you do. Always. I shall go meet my niece and nephew.”

 

“Alright.” He squeezes her close.

 

“Later, perhaps Fergus can see to Brianna so I can see to you?”

 

“I believe that can be arranged.” They grin at each other before he slips away to meet Michael and Janet.

[frustrated-writer-skyeknight]

A Tale of Chiefs (The Lion King AU)

First of, they are not lions. Someday, I may write a re-do of my friend's old fic A Viking's Pride. At first, I wanted to write an ending for her work but I can never find the muse enough to do it. Maybe I'll figure it out by doing this. For this story, I may or may not do it. If not, then this is here for anyone who wants to use it too.

An Awkward Scion (The Lion King!AU)

Stoick is the proud chief of Berk, recently made a father to what their people would consider a hiccup. Regardless, he had fate that his son would grow to a fine chief someday. A few years later, his son grew and the people still think it's a little less then evident that he would be expected to become as fine a chief that Stoick currently was. Still, Stoick and Valka knew the time would come that their son would grow into the role. A hidden foe intends to stir up trouble. However, it may just be what would be necessary for the young man to grow into his destined role.

Drago wants to become the ultimate chieftain. To do that, he intends to wipe out all the scions of each island; Hiccup, Jack, Rapunzel, and Merida.

The Rebellious Scion (Simba's Pride!AU)

Years after Hiccup was made chief of Berk, he becomes the proud father to a young boy. Jim's part Viking and another part mageborn, everyone expects him to be the most powerful chief to be yet. Jim thinks it would be much more fun to become a normal person, without any obligation to take care of a whole village. Meanwhile, Dimitri is an orphan and bought as a slave warrior. He works for Viggo and Ryker, later becoming the key to a plan to take down all the chiefs of Berk, Crescentia, Corona, and Dun Broch.

Except nobody expected a chance encounter of two youngsters to interfere with the plan.

An Awkward Scion characters

Stoick - Mufasa Valka - Serabi Hiccup - Simba Jack - Nala Nightlight - as himself Timon and Pumba - Gobber and Aster Zazu - North Pitch - Rafiki Scar - Drago

The Rebellious Scion characters

Hiccup - Simba Jack - Nala Jim - Kiara Kovu - Dimitri Vitani - Viggo Nuka - Ryker Zeera - Rasputin

AU Lore

Berk is only one of the important islands. The others are Crescentia, the island of Mageborns. Corona island, ruled by chief Frederic and lady Arianna. Dunbroch island, ruled by chief Fergus and lady Elinor.

Drago, similar to Httyd 2, tries getting all the chief to turn to him and acknowledge him to become a supreme chieftain. Of course, they refused. For a while, he was never seen again after an attempt to kill them all.

The four islands were once at war with each other. But when dragons arrived, they worked together to fend them off.

Dialogue ideas

Stoick: Look at the people, Hiccup. They are yours; someday, you will become a fine chief worthy of leading them. Hiccup: But... All of them? They all look... Much strongew and bravew than me. 'm just... Tiny. Valka: Of course you are, you're but a babe, love. *hugs him tightly* Hiccup, giggling: But Snotlout's 'bout my age... But he's already bigger than me. Valka: Maybe, but you know, there's more to strength than by just how big you are. Hiccup: Huh? Stoick: Don't worry about it now, son. When you're ready... You'll understand.

Jack: So how do we ditch the big guy? Hiccup: I'm thinkin'... You could distract him, then I'll go on ahead and wait for you there. Jack: Wha... How? Hiccup: I don't know, you come up with a plan for that yourself. Jack: C'mon Hic, you can think of a plan better than that...

Gobber: One day you two are going to be married! Jack: Uh, ew... Hiccup: Gross! I can't marry him; he's my friend, and a guy! Jack: What he said. Aster: Sorry to burst it to ya, but it's been arranged. Aster: Besides Jack, that isn't an issue with our kind. With mageborns being as scarce a race as we are, even guys adapted to copulate and produce offsprings. Jack: A what? Gobber, nudging the man: Uh, too early for that talk, don't ya think? Aster: You're the one who brought up bloody marriage. Hiccup: THERE'S BLOOD IN MARRIAGE?! Jack: That's it, I'm never getting married.

Nightlight: You have to go Jack. Jack: No! I'm not leaving you. Nightlight: If Crescentia and our neighboring islands are to have a future, you must. Nightlight: And I still have some magic in me, so don't you count your brother out just yet. Jack: Please... Don't ask me to leave you, I can help! Nightlight: You can. But it's not by staying, you need to find Hiccup. Jack: Hiccup?! But... He's been dead for years! Nightlight: It seems like not everything is what it appeared...

Hiccup: Wait, no Jack! Stop, stop! Jack: What?! How do you know my name?! Hiccup: How do I... Oh, sorry. Mask. *takes of his mask* It's me, Hiccup! Jack, widening his eyes: Stars above, Hiccup! *rushes towards him* Hiccup: *opening his arms and getting ready for a hug* Jack: *punches him at the shoulder* Hiccup: OW! Jack: Serves you right, have you any idea how I felt when I thought you died?! *hugs Hiccup tightly* Gods, I missed you. Hiccup: *hugging Jack back* Next time, maybe just go for the hug? Jack: What happened to you? Hiccup: It's... A long story. Jack, narrowing his eyes and pinching Hiccup by the ear: Hiccup: Again, ow, ow, ow! Jack: Uh, yeah, I've been grieving for years. It's a long story? I fucking deserve to hear it then.

A growl is then heard, making Jack jerk away and he sees a dragon charging towards him. He screams, and pulls his staff out

Hiccup: No, no, no! *charges at Jack and makes him drop the staff before blocking Toothless' way* It's okay! He's a friend. Jack, staring at them incredulously: Holy moon... Hiccup: You just scared him. Jack: I scared... Wait, him? Hiccup: Uh... Long story? Jack: Ohhh, you are definitely telling me this story.

Jim: What if I don't wanna be chief of Berk? Jack: Does that mean you want to fight your cousin and try to become the chief of Crescentia? Jim: NO! Don't wanna be chief at all! Hiccup: Well, what do you want then? Jim: I dunno... Anything else! Maybe... Fly to the moon! Hiccup: Well, Berk has dragons now. You can do that! Jack: Way to miss the metaphor, Hic.

Jim: Aster! I'm bored! Aster: Okay, I can show you how to throw a boomerang again. Jim: Nah... Let's go exploring! Aster: What did you dad and papa tell you? Jim: Not to leave home. Aster: So, what makes you think I'm going to let you? Jim: Because you once told papa he's not the boss of you anymore. Aster: Aster: I didn't mean it that way, and you know it. Jim: So... You were lying? Aster: Jim: Dad says it's bad to lie.

Dimitri: What the hell are you doing? Jim: Watching my back, duh! Dad told me never to leave it open to an enemy! Dimitri: And I betcha always listen to what daddy says. Jim: Don't you? Dimitri: Don't have any. So, I get to do whatever I want when I want to. Jim, beaming: Really?! Cool! Dimitri, caught off guard with the smile: Huh?

Rasputin: And at the final battle, we take no one alive. They're all to be killed. Ryker: Can we keep the mate of Berk's chief though? Rasputin: What? Ryker: I think he's pretty. Viggo, face palming: Odin's beard, Ryker... They need to be killed to be re-summoned for the undead army. Ryker: But he won't look pretty anymore as an undead. Rasputin: Rasputin: I'm surrounded by idiots...

Jim: Hey, uh, thanks for saving me earlier. Dimitri: Well, anyone can make mistakes. Jim: I'm sorry? Dimitri: I mean, was probably pointless doing so. I saved you, I'm still at the stocks. Talk about gratitude, right? And you're probably going to get in trouble again, which means saving you would be for nothing since I see that you haven't learned how to pick your fights more carefully. Jim: Hey, like I said, I had everything under control. Dimitri: Didn't look like it. You should really work on your hunting skills. Jim: Oh, and I suppose you're such an expert you could show me how it's done? Dimitri: Definitely. It's a date then. Jim: Wait, what? Dimitri: What? Do you or don't you want to become a better fighter? Jim: Uh, I want to... Fight better? Dimitri: All right then, just name the time and place, puppy. Jim: I'm not a pup! I'm a mighty mageborn Viking! Dimitri: Pup it is then.

[beardedmrbean]

April 29 (UPI) -- Scottish First Minister Humza Yousaf quit Monday ahead of two no-confidence votes he had little-to-no-chance of winning.

The 39-year-old Scottish Nationalist Party leader resigned four days after he collapsed a coalition with the Scottish Greens that kept his government in power in a row over carbon emissions targets.

"After spending the weekend reflecting on what is best for my party, for the government and for the country I lead, I've concluded that repairing our relationship across the political divide can only be done with someone else at the helm," Yousaf said in an emotional address at Bute House, his official Edinburgh residence.

"I have therefore informed the SNP's national secretary of my intention to stand down as party leader."

The resignation of Yousaf, Scotland's first Asian-Muslim leader, triggers a contest to find a new first minister -- which as the largest party falls to the SNP -- although he will remain until post until that happens.

Party grandee Fergus Ewing immediately endorsed Kate Forbes, who came a close second to Yousaf in last year's leadership contest, saying that with the party in urgent need of a reset he had "no doubt whatsoever" she would would make the best leader for the SNP and for Scotland.

Crediting Forbes with being Scotland's most popular MSP, Ewing said the last thing the SNP needed was "another candidate that, frankly, is associated with some of the problems that have brought us down in the polls and lost us trust and confidence."

Yousaf had insisted he would not resign and would continue to govern without a majority but has been unable, or unwilling, to gain the support from rival parties he needed to do so.

His former arch-rival and potential kingmaker, Ash Regan of the pro-independence Alba Party said she was perplexed by the SNP's intransigence but pledged to work with whomever the party chose as its new leader.

"Bizarrely some forces in Humza Yousaf's own party would rather see him resign than deal with a party who really want to advance independence," said the lone MSP of former SNP First Minister Alex Salmond's breakaway party.

"However, a new SNP leader and a new first minister will not change parliamentary arithmetic. I continue to stand ready to work in the best interests of Scotland and to advance the cause of Scottish independence."

The end came after the Greens, furious at being unceremoniously kicked from a coalition Yousaf had only days previously said was "worth its weight in gold," rejected his overtures while he ruled out of hand any deal with the Alba Party.

The failure to broker a deal meant he lacked the votes to survive no-confidence votes later this week -- one in him as first minister and a second in his government -- leaving him no choice but to quit.

Scottish Greens co-leader Patrick Harvie signaled earlier Monday his party would support an SNP minority government, but only if Yousaf, whom he accused of breaking trust and creating an unnecessary crisis, quit.

"The SNP remain the largest party in the Scottish Parliament, just short of a majority, and they are capable of governing a stable minority government. Greens are ready to help make that happen.

"But I don't think Humza Yousaf is in a position to be able to lead such a stable minority because it depends on trust and I don't think there is anything that he will be able to say to restore the trust he has broken."

The resignation of Yousaf, who has been in office for a little over a year after taking over from Nicola Sturgeon after she unexpectedly quit in Feb. 2023, gives the Scottish Parliament 28 days to select a new first minister.

Failure to do so within the time limit will result in parliament being dissolved and a general election being called.

[luxmaeastra]

They strolled through the mountains. They were far from the duchy. Fergus smiled softly watching Raelyn walk a few feet ahead of him. The way she smiled as she chatted about something that fascinated her.

He always loved seeing this side of her. He could listen to her talk her like this for -

He stilled watching the shadow on the ground twitch. He lunged his knife in his hands as he slammed it down pushing her away.

He didn't see what she yelled, not when they jumped him. They'd warned him of this and everything else fell away.

He launched himself into the frenzy, his powers unlocking. He finished the wraith off severing his jugglar. The blood sprayed but he was already moving. The other Changeling was already lunging for him. He twisted tussling with him till he snapped and tore his head off.

He barred his teeth at the other two but both only bore down at him. He twisted, snake, to fly to vulture. He tore into one eyes and his magic faltered as he felt his wings rip off.

He twisted free, his arms burned, torn out of their sockets.

But he had his magic and he called on that. His whistle cut through the other pushing him off the cliff. The other shook the magic off and lunged for him. He pinned him to the ground. He barred down, getting ready to strike. Fergus was faster ripping into his jugglar.

He sucked on the blood eagerly sucking his vitality. He shoved him off and slowly got to his feet. He pushed the energy into his shoulders slowly resetting them. He gritted his teeth agaisnt the agonizing pain. He reached for his blade on the ground and spun as the other Changeling came back. He spun and shoved it into the underside of his chin. He kicked him back off the cliff.

He swayed, the music was quiet but it was all buzzing. He could feel his magic being restless. He wanted to run, to hunt, to keep killing.

"Control Fergus. You must control that. Remember your lessons. What's the song? Hum that song for me now darling."

He didn't hum the song consciously. But slowly the haze lifted. Slowly the world came back to him. He turned and looked to her, stepping toward the edge of the cliff.

"I - I can explain. I swear."

Please don't hate me. Don't be scared of me Raelyn."

He bet he was covered in blood, he bet he looked deranged. He remembered the first meetings he'd had with Mishkia and Eshkar. How he'd won their loyalty and respect, the floor bloody and the air charged.

The bodies were twisted and mangled between them. He swallowed and focused on the headless one. He swallowed his impulse to look for their heart. Now probably wasn't the time.

There is something about him Rae, please be careful. Raffiel’s words of warning echoed within her mind as the scene before her erupted, as tooth and dagger split the crimson blood onto the dirt. The sudden impact of the ground under her when he had pushed her out of the way, the disruption of their stroll away from the duchy - something they done regularly.

The taste of magic filled the hair, as sickly sweet as that of the scent of the blood that was spilt. The mindless violence that the scene was, the strangled cry that came from her as it looked as if everything was against him in that moment. Watching as these beings tore at him, as they attempted to kill him.

She scrambled to her feet as the shock faded, had this battle really ended as quickly as it did? As she had gained her focus she could only watch as he finished off the final one. Fallen off the cliff, the remnants of those who were not as lucky around them. There he was. For the first time in a long time she found herself staring at a male she didn’t seem to know, the secret behind the mask he wore.

No. That was wrong, his words came from him as he promised he could explain it. He didn’t need to, she knew that frenzy better than most. Had not she, Melinoe and Remus snuck into a revel hosted by her Aunt Iris? Watching them all descend into something the three didn’t understand, yet she couldn’t help but feel as if a familiar chord was heard.

Raelyn’s palm pressed against his cheek, she wasn’t sure when she had gotten so close but she couldn’t stop herself. Her thumb brushed against the blood that stained his skin, her head tilted to the side before she leaned in and claimed his lips with her own. The buzz in the air, the chords that had always been so distant to her seemed so much louder.

“I don’t need an explanation,” she panted as she pulled back. “You are you Fergus, I have known and accepted that a long time ago. Just let me know you fully as you are, let me see you fully.”

[dishtothedeath]

Nothing to gain but future pain // Fergus // Ch2 Body drop react

It’s almost a relief when Fergus first sees Charybdis lying dead by the side of the pool, like a doll someone forgot there, intact but discarded. Not because he hates them enough to think they deserve to die, no. Despite what a horrible person he otherwise is, Fergus rarely thinks someone deserves to die, not unless they’ve done something genuinely bad, and in his eyes that takes a lot more than being a tough son of a bitch with a mean attitude (by those standards, he’d deserve to die, too).

No, he’s relieved because Fergus thinks about me and my own first. Kith and kin are always his priority, be it by birth or choice. Shame on him for being so selfish, but he doesn’t care, he’s had enough shit for a lifetime to not give a damn if he comes off callous for it. So when Charybdis lies dead by the side of the pool, eyes staring wide in shock, Fergus lets himself relax despite the gruesome sight. Sure, a worthy opponent is now dead, but he feels little pity. They’re not the first nor the last life he’s seen end in an unfair way.

Shame on him for being selfish.

Shame on him for relaxing like that.

Shame on him for not noticing Masaji missing from their numbers.

Fergus doesn’t notice Masaji's absence before he sees the man by the side of the pool, eyes closed, wet hair clinging to his face. If it weren’t for the blood, it would take Fergus far longer to register what’s going on. Though, shamefully, he’s still not fast on the uptake. He opens his mouth, about to call out, about to say something, tell someone to check on Masaji since of course he’s just been hurt or needs help getting out or –

before the realisation truly hits him.

Fergus goes rigid and quiet, and he can feel the bottom of his stomach drop in an all too familiar way, first disbelief, then shock, then anger, then guilt, then bargaining, then frustration, and then… nothing. He stares ahead over the gathered crowd, at Haruki crying.

Fergus doesn’t cry, of course. That fault was weeded from him at the first possible chance.

And what’s there to cry for? He’s most of all mad at himself. First, for fucking up one of the few things he’d promised himself to devote himself to on this shitty fucking island - get this man back home to his daughter.

Second, for making that promise in the first place.

 All at once Fergus is reminded why he wanted to keep his distance from others, and he wants to kick himself for slipping up like this. He tried to push Masaji away, did he not, and once again that all too common lily-livered softness had wormed its way like root rot past his shield, and had made him think it’s okay to lower it. What could it hurt to have someone to talk to? A friend? When’s the last time he even had one, when was the last time he’d felt like this about someone, when was the last time he had wanted to –

Maybe he wouldn’t feel like this if he had actually wizened up and not gotten too attached. Sure, no man is an island, but in this moment Fergus hopes to be one and raze it all to the ground so no boat will ever dare shore on its beach, tear down the trees and the reeds, leave it all for the waves to consume and for the storms to erode.

But for once he doesn’t scream, doesn’t yell, doesn’t threaten to kill whoever did this. He just breathes deep… and turns away from the corpse.

“Let’s get this over and done with.”

Yeah.

Shame on him for being this fucking desperate.

[hal-assan]

fereldenhero​:

“I promise, it’s not that far out of the way. Maybe two hours by luck. I looked at the maps and we’re close to where my Brother is.” She reached over and placed a gentle hand against Yvair’s forearm. “Lethallin, I promise you, it’ll be alright.” She lowly whispered. “It’s me this time, not you.”

Her fingertips fell free from Yvair’s arm, but not before she let her fingertips trace along the covered skin. “He’ll give us a warm welcome, that’s guaranteed. It’s been a while before I’ve done a surprise visit on him, but I know that he’ll enjoy it.”

Rose smiled softly as she pulled away from Yvair’s side and turning her attention to Archex and Dorian. “I’m glad it’s settled. Although, Dorian, are you okay to make it or did you need a lift? I’m sure Archex wouldn’t mind helping you out.”

She rolled her shoulders gently, tension still lingering from the battle earlier on. “Besides, at least this way, we could probably all get a good group wash in before taking off tomorrow. Who doesn’t love a good community bath?” The concept itself was going to surprise Fergus, but Rose was comfortable with it since Tamlen introduced it to her.

“Fine, fine, I’ll start us out but Dorian if you don’t take up Archex’s offer, I’ll gladly take it.” She gave the large Quinari a wink before she started off towards the Cousland estate.

➴

Yvair relaxed slightly under Rose’s touch and words of comfort-- but even if that were the case, he still had the lingering annoyance of being totted around as a symbol for a religion he didn’t exactly believe in. There’s only so many times one can politely correct the claims before one runs the risk of snapping. Not that Yvair’s rejection of the claims of being Andraste’s Herald were always something one might consider ‘polite’-- but he knew better than to snap over it and instead gently remind others he has his own beliefs.

“I’m sure it’s nice to have family visit. If I had the chance, I’d love to be able to swing by my Clan and personally reassure them everything’s fine.” For now, a letter sent through Leliana’s people seemed the best option available. At least it had gone over well, beings he could not just up and leave everything behind. Not without pissing off too many people. “It’s important to stay in contact with those who care about you.”

Dorian scoffed at the suggestion Rose offered, flustering slightly at the idea of such a thing. As if to safe face, the mage forced himself straight and fussed with his hair that had unfortunately become more and more tussled as the day wore on, “I’m perfectly capable of standing on my own two legs, thank you very much. Just need a moment to catch my breath again.”

“You claim, looking ready to collapse any second now,” Archex grinned, but at the glare it earned him he merely shrugged. Yvair noted the Qunari testing his leg, and dug into the small pack he had to fish out the last of the potion they had on hand. But when he held it out towards Archex, the Qunari held up his hands in an attempt to ward it off, “It’s fine, I don’t need it.”

“You’re going to cave and carry Rose, especially once you realize she’s injured herself. You can carry her, but none of us can carry you.” Yvair firmly pressed it to Archex’s hand, and though it seemed he was about ready to argue all Yvair had to do was narrow his eyes to prompt Archex into relenting and taking it. “Besides, if your leg gave out and you dropped Rose, you’d be kicking yourself over it.”

Archex hesitated only momentarily, before finally drinking the potion and allowing it to work its magic. As the Qunari checked to be sure his leg was better, Yvair moved over towards Dorian and nudged him playfully, “Don’t worry Dorian, if you get too tired I can carry you instead.”

The mage rolled his eyes, “You look half dead yourself, Inquisitor. Don’t go making promises you can’t keep.” 

Finally certain of his footing, Archex gestured for Rose to hop onto his back for a ride, ready for the trek ahead of the small group. A proper rest is just what they needed-- hopefully it was a clear road to their destination. 

[flyinghome-againstthewind]

the best by far is you: chapter 21

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Summary: An exploration of Claire & Jamie’s story if their firstborn had lived and they had the chance to be parents together of wee Faith Fraser before the Battle of Culloden.

Chapter 21

“Where will we go?” Claire had asked him as their plans to bring Mary to Paris began to take shape.

In truth, he hadn’t planned to leave the abbey the first time Mary was set to leave. Not for a little while, at least. He would have needed time to sort out what life would look like next for just Faith and him. But now… they both wanted Claire a little closer to civilization when the baby came.

Not to mention, Fergus scandalized the monks on a near daily basis with the talk that came out of his mouth. Jamie was surprised their family hadn’t been driven from the abbey yet.

“Dinna see we have any other choice but seek shelter with Jared for a time,” Jamie sighed. They had hardly any money between them and while he had once easily lived out in the wild, penniless and hiding from the law, he had bairns now to consider. “We can send Murtagh on ahead of us to let Jared know we’re coming.”

He watched Claire’s careful intake of breath while she absorbed his words. “Will we be safe? Being in that… that circle again?”

“Aye, I pondered that as well. Jared can be discreet, as can his staff. If we don’t tell anyone ‒ if we don’t see anyone‒”

“We’d have to never leave the house,” Claire pointed out.

Jamie sighed. It was still a risk, but what other choice was there? “It���s a very large house, at least. We’d have more space than we do here. And just until the bairn comes, then we can move on.”

Move on to where, they had no idea yet. But that was a problem for another day. They needed momentary stability first.

“No contact with anyone else we knew from Paris,” Claire said, and Jamie realized that was her condition for agreement. “Besides Mary, obviously.”

“Aye,” Jamie agreed.

She took a deep breath and let it out slow. “And you believe Jared will agree? That he’ll take in the whole lot of us and keep quiet?”

“He will,” he said confidently. “Not without something in return, I suspect, but aye, he will agree. Tis very likely he’ll want my involvement in his business again, and that’s only fair if he’s sheltering us. But as long as I’m able to remain out of sight, I dinna mind making that deal with him.” His gaze sought out Claire’s again. “Would ye mind that, Claire? Could ye live with it? Just for a time…”

Her expression grew pensive and her thoughts no doubt turned to the children and the baby she was growing, as his thoughts often did. “Yes, just for a time. Until the baby is born.”

------------  

Murtagh left a few days ahead of them as planned to make arrangements with Jared. And when the time came for them to leave the abbey, they piled into a coach bound for Paris. Mary was seated next to Claire for the journey while Jamie sat across from them with the children, his cane leaning against the wall of the carriage.

Mary, despite the brave face she put on, was showing signs of anxiousness the closer they drew to the city. She’d shared with Claire a few days prior how worried she was for the kind of reception she’d receive from her uncle and aunt. Widowed and pregnant and hiding the truth of the baby’s father. Would they even believe she’d been married in the first place? Mary feared they wouldn’t.

It had sparked a thought in Claire that she’d been unable to shake, and so as they were jostled along in the carriage, she dug into her pocket for the small token she hoped would alleviate some of Mary’s fears. “Here,” she murmured, slipping Frank’s gold wedding ring into Mary’s hand. “This is for you.”

Mary’s brows furrowed in confusion as she stared at the ring. “But… this is… I‒ I couldn’t.”

“I want you to have it. It will help, won’t it?”

Mary’s eyes were watery when they lifted to meet Claire’s gaze. “Are you certain?”

“Yes,” she said easily and gave the young woman a soft smile. “I’m very certain. You need a ring and this one… this one was meant for you, I think.” She couldn’t tell Mary why that was, but for Claire, there was a rightness in Frank Randall’s ring going to his ancestor to keep her safe, even if they both never knew it.

Mary slipped the ring onto her finger ‒ a little loose but manageable ‒ and her hands settled in her lap without any of their nervous fidgeting as before.

When the carriage pulled up in front of the estate of Silas Hawkins, Claire’s stomach dropped in nervous dread. Mary, however, didn’t hesitate to jump out when the coachman opened the door. Claire threw a frazzled glance at Jamie and followed after Mary, not sure what to expect.

But then the front door flew open and it wasn’t Mary’s uncle coming to greet them, but a young, gangly boy with Mary’s eyes, and Claire felt her nerves settle. Her brother had made it. Mary wouldn’t be alone here.

He called her name and nearly tumbled down the steps in his haste to reach his sister, and Claire watched the two siblings embrace, feeling a lump rise in her throat. The affection between them was visible, as was the boy’s concern and relief at having her home. Mary made brief introductions, introducing her brother to Claire as George Hawkins. Mary herself was quite petite and George at fifteen was a bit taller than her, but still had a slight frame that Claire surmised was characteristic of their family.

Mary’s things were taken down from the coach and hauled off into the house, and her brother waited nearby to go in with her.

“All set then?” Claire asked.

Mary nodded. She seemed more at peace with her brother’s presence and Claire was glad for that. She pulled the young woman into a hug.

“We’ll be around to visit soon, then. And you know where to find us if you need to get away for a bit.”

  ------------  

“Ach, no ye don’t, wee lassie.” Murtagh scooped up Faith and walked back into the upstairs sitting room. One of the servants had the presence of mind to close the door behind them without being asked.

“Down!” Faith bellowed, wriggling like a fish to try and escape Murtagh’s grasp. “I want down!”

“Faith, you have to stay in here,” Claire said for the umpteenth time, her voice low and soft against the muffled hubbub of the dinner party downstairs.

Jamie was in the process of guiding her towards the sofa, hobbling a little with his cane, and felt her turn towards Murtagh as if to assist him. “Sassenach, would ye sit down and rest? Ye’ve been on yer feet all day.” For his fussing, he received a sharp look from his wife.

“I’m pregnant, not an invalid. You shouldn’t be on your feet either.”

Murtagh set Faith down and stood with his back to the door, her only point of escape, and folded his arms across his chest. “We’ve told ye, you canna go out there while there’s the dinner party,” he explained reasonably, as if the two-year-old would accept this.

Jamie sighed, feeling like a caged animal himself. Of course Jared would be hosting a large party of guests on their second night back in Paris. They’d hardly settled in and already were struggling to live in hiding with the children.

Claire grabbed Jamie’s arm without a word and sunk into the sofa. He let out another sigh, this time of relief.

Jared had graciously opened his home to them and assured them both he and his staff could harbor them safely, but it became quite clear that Jared also didn’t intend to stop living as he had before they arrived. This meant they were confined to an upper wing of the house that Jared had prepared for them ‒ a string of bedrooms, one of which had a smaller adjoining room that was being converted into a makeshift nursery, and a sitting room.

Fergus sat sideways in one of the lounge chairs, his feet dangling over one arm of it with a book open and propped up against his thighs. His attention left the book in favor of seeing what Faith was doing. He leaned backwards over the opposite arm, head upside-down, and reached his arms out into the air. “Viens à moi, ma petite chérie,” he beckoned. Faith turned from her stand-off with Murtagh, spotted him, and ran right for him, grinning wildly all the way.

Jamie watched as Fergus caught Faith around the middle and, with surprising strength, managed to flip her up and over him and the arm of the chair so that she landed in his lap in a fit of giggles.

“Be careful,” Claire reminded them as the book fell to the floor, no longer occupying Fergus’s attention. Their joy was contagious, and soon Jamie felt the tension of the day ebbing from his shoulders as he sunk into the space next to Claire. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her temple and felt her melt into his side.

Murtagh also seemed to think the risk of Faith’s escape had diminished and eased himself into a chair with a sigh. Every now and then, the sounds of the dinner party would filter up through the walls, and Jamie realized that as long as they could keep the children quiet and contained on nights like these, Jared continuing to live as though nothing had changed would likely work in their favor. After all, it made it seem as though Jared had nothing to hide.

“I wonder how many of the guests downstairs we would know,” Claire mused.

Murtagh grunted, making no effort to hide his distaste of their former Paris acquaintances.

“It wasn’t all bad, the first time we were here,” Claire said quietly after a moment, turning into Jamie’s side. He realized those words were for him, not Murtagh, and glanced down at her upturned face resting near his shoulder.

“In a pensive mood tonight, mo nighean donn?” He leaned down and kissed her, just because he could. Just because she was there.

She exhaled with a wry smile. “I suppose.”

He wrapped an arm around her and kissed her again, quick and chaste, mindful that they weren’t really alone. “It wasn’t all bad but there was precious little that was good about it,” he replied.

“Yes, but we got those two out of it,” she nodded towards the chair where Fergus was still entertaining Faith. “And they are everything.”

“Aye,” he agreed easily, kissing her forehead, and then glanced back at the bairns to see that they had an audience. Faith was watching them intently and then Fergus turned to see what she was staring at.

“What?” Claire prompted, her voice tired so it came out sounding exceedingly British.

They were only cuddled up on the sofa together, but Faith had been developing a keen awareness of not only Claire but Claire’s relationship to Jamie as well. And lately, unfortunately, a jealous streak had emerged in Faith.

With a sigh, he watched Faith scramble down from the chair and toddle over to him, arms outstretched. “C’mere, ye wee trouble-maker,” he said as he hauled Faith into his lap and settled back next to Claire again. “Keepin’ everyone in a tizzy while we’re trying to enjoy a quiet evening, huh?”

Faith kneeled on his good leg and reached up to hug him sweetly, her head thumping against his shoulder nearest Claire, and both parents saw through the thin guise that it was.

“Somebody looks like they’re getting tired,” Claire teased in a sing-song voice, her fingers gently brushing back Faith’s curls from her face. And despite how Faith had come over just to interrupt them and take his attention away from Claire, he watched his wife’s face light up with having Faith so near to her. Claire was breathtaking always, but the way she looked at their children with so much love in her damn near killed him every time to see it. What a privilege it was to witness something so beautiful. It left him humbled and awed.

His heart never stood a chance against Claire Beauchamp. And for all that she was just as stubborn as the two who made her, he knew Faith didn’t stand a chance either.

Claire leaned in and kissed Faith’s forehead, talking sweetly to her, and Jamie wasn’t a bit surprised when he felt Faith shift herself away from him, sliding into Claire’s lap instead. Nor did he blame her for wanting to bask in the light and warmth of Claire’s love a little more.

His breath snagged in his throat at the sight of them curled up together, Faith’s head pillowed on her mother’s chest, and he thanked his lucky stars that ‒ even in their current circumstances ‒ this was his life, here with them.

  ------------  

“How certain are ye that the wean is a lass?”

Claire snorted softly, stretched out on the bed while they stole a moment of peace during Faith’s nap. Murtagh had taken Fergus out to the stables for the afternoon and they were alone. “Anything’s possible. Why do you ask?”

“Well, I thought… I thought we might discuss names for either.” He smiled sheepishly, remembering what delicate territory this was the first time ‒ and they didn’t even get to name Faith in the end. Not her first name, at least. “Just in case.”

But a gentle smile tugged at Claire’s lips and he felt something ease in his chest.

“I’ve been thinking about that, too. What about Brian?” she suggested, one hand resting on the swell of her belly and the other tucked behind her head. She looked down at the bump tenderly as she spoke, as if it could give any hint of who was inside and whether the name spoken was the one it would bear.

Jamie smiled at the sight of her more than the suggested name, though it touched him deeply. “Aye, Sassenach, tis a fine name.”

“Well this is so much easier the second time around,” she laughed, and his smile deepened. He moved from his seat at the writing desk to join her on the bed, propping himself up on one elbow facing her.

“And what if it’s another girl?” Claire asked pointedly, smiling with that knowing look of hers. Even he was starting to feel the inevitability that Claire would be right in this.

Jamie cocked his head, considering. His hand reached out to touch her rounded belly. “Maybe Ellen, after my mother?” he said softly. Claire’s answering smile was sweet and all the confirmation he needed.

“Though,” he began after a moment of reflection, “if we did agree, that means the babe would be named after one of my parents either way, and Faith has my sister’s name as well. I dinna wish to be selfish.” He fixed his gaze again on Claire. “What about your family, Sassenach? D’ye want to name the bairn after your mother?”

She lifted her hand to rake her fingers through his curls, and he leaned into her touch, sighing deeply. “Does that mean ‘yes’, Sassenach?”

“It means you’re very sweet. But… it’s different for me than for you.”

“Because ye canna remember them.” he supplied.

She gave him a sad smile and his heart clenched. “Yes. I can remember bits of the grief in the aftermath, which must’ve meant I loved them very much, but I can’t picture them anymore and I don’t know which hazy memories are mine and which are the stories that Uncle Lamb supplied for me to fill in the blanks.” Her hand returned to resting on top of the swell of her belly. “Maybe for a middle name, we could use my parents’ names, but if this little one ever asks about his or her name, I want you to be able to tell them about their namesake. I want them to hear those stories as I have from you. I wouldn’t be able to do that for them.” She was tracing delicate patterns against the taut skin of her belly, coming as close to caressing the little babe as she could, until Jamie pulled her sideways and gathered her against his chest rather abruptly.

“Not that I’m complaining…” She began, already relaxed against his arm. “But you could’ve just said you wanted to cuddle. I would’ve agreed.”

He huffed at her teasing and didn’t respond right away. His fingers played with her hair and her eyes drifted shut in the warm shelter of his arms, but his heart ached still as her words replayed in his mind.

“I was just sad for ye, mo ghraidh,” he admitted. “I dinna like the thought of ye all alone without a family. Without memories even.”

She looked up at him, her chin poking into his chest, and met his gaze. “But I do have a family. I had Uncle Lamb growing up. And before we even had children, you promised me your family. And I haven’t been wanting in that regard since I married you, Jamie Fraser. You’ve given me so much.”

He cupped her face in one hand and kissed her thoroughly, and when he pulled away, she rolled onto her back again, still close to him. He sighed heavily, his hand returning to her pregnant belly. The wonder of it all remained even this second time around, and he didn’t think he’d ever find this sacred work of Claire’s to be anything less than a miracle. “Wean will be here before we know it.”

Claire hummed in acknowledgement, her fingers raking along his scalp.

“I’m sorry, Sassenach,” he murmured and felt her hand freeze in his hair. “I wanted tae do this right if I ever got ye wi’ child again. Instead I… I missed so much… put ye through so much. Ye were cold and starving and then I sent ye through the stones‒”

“Hey,” Claire tugged on his hair and his jaw snapped shut. But her voice was gentle when she spoke to him, filled with a compassion he didn’t feel he deserved. “We’re both here now and that’s what matters. We can’t keep looking back. My biggest fear was never finding each other again, but we did. So no more regrets or apologies, alright?”

He swallowed thickly and nodded. “How about a promise then?” His fingers interlocked with hers over the firm bump of the baby before he lifted his gaze to hers. “You and the bairns, Sassenach… ye’re my life. When the time comes, I know I canna take yer pains away, but I… I won’t make past mistakes again. I promise I will be here.”

“I know you will.”

He breathed out a smile and leaned over to kiss his wife.

“Go,” she said after a moment, stifling a yawn. She shoved him playfully. “Go finish your letter to Jenny. We’re alright. And I want to nap.”

He smiled into one last kiss and let her kick him out of the bed, knowing the bairn was keeping her up most nights with all his tumbling about. He settled back in at the desk, a half-finished letter before him, and looked back to watch Claire curl onto her side, unaware of his gaze. Christ but she was an unwavering force to track him down and make their family whole again. And for her to say that he had given her so much… He’d never in his life stop trying to be worthy of her.

  ------------  

“Ready, Sassenach?”

The press of Jamie’s lips to her temple drew Claire out of her reverie and she inhaled deeply. “Je suis prest,” she said after a moment’s pause.

She saw the spark those words lit in his eyes and the nervous butterflies in her stomach were briefly quelled by the warm thought that followed: How it was fitting to say the Fraser Clan motto at that moment as they planned to officially grow their own wee Fraser clan tonight.

“Ready for what?” Fergus piped up from his spot on the sofa. Faith had already been put to bed and Murtagh knew to make himself scarce tonight, so it was only the three of them in their little sitting room.

Jamie met her gaze. If ever there was an entrance to the conversation, it was that one.

“We have something we want to discuss wi’ ye, lad.” Jamie retrieved the document from the lawyer he’d procured earlier that day. And, deciding to let the document speak for itself, Jamie laid the paper out on the small table where Claire sat. “Come have a look, Fergus,” he beckoned.

Fergus left the sofa and moved to the empty seat at the table, the paper in front of him. “What is this?”

Jamie eased into the seat between her and Fergus. “Read it, a balach,” he said gently.

Claire sat across from him, heart in her throat as she watched his eyes skim over the words. The boy’s brows furrowed in confusion and then his face went slack with surprise as realization dawned. “I don’t…” Fergus’s gaze flicked between her and Jamie. He swallowed. “I don’t understand,” he said with a sort of timidness that broke Claire’s heart, as if maybe he did understand completely but couldn’t believe it to be true.

Wordlessly, she reached across the table and took his hand in her own.

“I ken the document is a bit… formal. Tis meant to be a will of sorts. It recognizes you as our firstborn son and, when the time comes that Claire and I have passed, anything we have will fall under your care and responsibility to maintain or redistribute among your siblings.”

Tears pooled in Fergus’s eyes.

“But that won’t be a concern for a very, very long time if we can help it,” Claire added, squeezing his hand.

“Aye,” Jamie smiled. “No’ to mention, we dinna have anything for ye to inherit, being poor as church mice at the moment,” he joked, though Claire shot him a look for that one.

Fergus remained mute, his tear-filled gaze falling back to the paper as he sniffled softly.

Dread filled Claire’s stomach. They were doing this all wrong, weren’t they? Death and inheritance and all the burden of that to come wasn’t really the point.

“That paper… It's just a formality. It’s just protection to have in place.”

“But it’s…” Fergus began in a tight whisper. “I’m not… Shouldn’t Faith‒”

Jamie rested a hand on the boy’s shoulder and his gaze snapped up to him, a pleading expression on his young face begging Jamie to understand him. “We dinna mean to make it sound like she and the bairn would be left out, only that you would be seen in the eyes of the law as just as much ours as Faith and the wean. And, weel, ye are the oldest then, there’s no way around that, so the brunt of the responsibility would fall to you.”

Fergus was up out of his seat faster than Claire could blink, his arms thrown around Jamie’s neck in a fierce hug. Her own vision blurred with tears and she blinked them away furiously.

“I will make you proud, Milord,” Fergus cried, muffled into Jamie’s shoulder. “I promise I will‒ I will be worthy of this someday.”

“Hey, no,” Claire butted in gently at the same time that Jamie said something in Gaelic that sounded rather like a chiding.

Fergus pulled back, his face streaked with tears, and Claire’s heart clenched at the sight of him.

“Ye’re already worthy of more than we can ever give ye, lad.”

“The point of all of this is that we wanted to make it clear ‒ to you and to anyone else ‒ just how we see you. We love you as our child. As our son. And we love you because you’re you, not because you did anything to earn it. You don’t owe us anything, and you don’t have to measure up.”

Fergus hiccuped and nodded, looking away to blink back a fresh wave of tears and wipe his nose with his sleeve. Jamie reached up and brushed the boy's tears away, his hand then coming to settle over Fergus’s heart. “S’alright, laddie.”

She felt her throat clog over the tenderness of that small gesture, of the way Jamie loved their boy so well, and she didn’t trust her voice enough to speak yet. Fergus stood rooted by Jamie’s chair, one arm still draped across his shoulders, as Jamie talked to him ‒ about nothing of importance at first, just to calm him down, and then carefully, he navigated the conversation back to the matter at hand.

“Ye ken we’ve already considered you a member of this family for a long time,” Jamie began gently.

“You’re already the most wonderful brother to Faith,” Claire added with a watery smile. “She’s always adored you.”

“And we’re both verra sorry it took this long to have this conversation wi’ ye. No matter what, we love ye always, mon fils, and after everything that has happened in the last year, we didna want to leave anything unsaid. So if…”

Jamie paused only momentarily, but it was the first sign of panic that she’d seen in him all night. He was usually so steady, but being a parent… loving a child of their own… that was a vulnerability unlike anything they’d ever experienced before. “Ye dinna have to, of course ‒ this would be yer choice ‒ but if ye wanted to take the name Fraser fer yer own, that’d be… I would be‒” his gaze broke away from Fergus, looking to Claire for strength. He smiled tightly, and when he spoke again, his voice was rough with emotion. “Verra proud.”

She glanced from Jamie up to Fergus to see how the boy received those words. His eyes had gone wide, his expression unreadable. “Truly?” he said at last, looking to Claire for confirmation.

“Yes, love,” she smiled through the urge to cry. “Yes.”

Jamie gave Fergus a tight squeeze, the two of them breaking into smiles that turned her heart into a puddle.

“Fergus Fraser,” Jamie said affectionately, “Ye bear the name of a true Scot now, aye?”

His words brought a moment of levity that they all welcomed. Fergus, no longer clinging to Jamie on the verge of tears, slid back into his own seat at the table, chest puffed up with pride.

“Fergus Fraser,” the boy repeated ‒ so quietly that Claire wondered if they were meant to hear it or if he was repeating it to himself.

“We’re all yours. We’re your family.”

“I know, Milady.”

The once affectionate term was suddenly jarring to Claire when spoken into that moment, in that conversation of who their family was. She breathed in deeply, her mind scrambling for the right words while her heart skittered nervously.

“Fergus, you could… that is, you also don’t have to call me that anymore, if you don’t want to.”

Fergus cocked his head at that and she noticed Jamie straighten up out of the corner of her eye, looking ready to step in. “Since ye dinna need to think of us as yer employers anymore, we’d prefer it if ye didna address us as such. If ye’re alright wi’ that.”

“What would I call you?”

Jamie cleared his throat. “Faith calls me Da,” he said delicately. “Would ye like to do the same, mon fils?”

Fergus’s eyes lit up, understanding now what they meant, and Claire felt her heart leap to her throat. “Truly, Milord?”

Jamie leveled his gaze at Fergus, but he let that one last “milord” go unchecked. “Truly.”

Fergus sat up a little straighter in his chair. “What if I called you Papa, instead?”

The corners of Jamie’s lips turned upwards and Claire knew him well enough to see the signs that he was holding back tears. “Would that make you happy?”

“Oui,” Fergus breathed out, practically bouncing in his chair.

“Then you can call me Papa, so long as it pleases ye.” Jamie’s gaze flicked to Claire, where she sat observing her two men, tears brimming in her eyes but not yet spilled over. “And what will ye call your mother, then?”

“Maman,” Fergus said at once, his eyes turning to Claire, soft with adoration.

“I would be incredibly hon‒” her voice cracked and her mouth snapped shut to stop the cry that threatened to escape. Her chin wobbled as a few rogue tears spilled down her cheeks. “Come here,” she managed in a tight voice, motioning for him to join her on that side of the table. He went without further prompting, leaning down to hug her. She kissed his cheek and tucked his head against her shoulder, held him there for a long moment before she was ready to let go. “Je t'aime, mon fils,” she murmured to him, loosening her hold. When he drew back, she noticed the tears on his face as well and the soft smile that sent her heart tumbling. Gently, her fingers brushed away the tears and then she held his dear face in her hands and drew him close to press a kiss to his forehead.

“Je t'aime, Maman.”

  ------------  

They sent him off to bed a little while later, and Claire stayed seated at the table, her hands cradling her ever-growing belly, while Jamie walked Fergus out to the hallway towards his room. She could hear Fergus’s excited chatter and knew he probably wouldn’t sleep any time soon. Still, there was a lightness in his voice that flooded Claire with gratitude. He’d embraced them wholeheartedly ‒ and even now as he spoke to Jamie, she didn’t miss how he took every opportunity to address him as “Papa.”

There was a sudden scuffle of feet and then the sound of one set of footsteps running back to the room. Fergus was returning for something.

She straightened in her seat, looking around the room for whatever he must’ve forgotten.

“Maman?” he called out from the doorway and she met his gaze. He had a funny expression on his face, seemingly anxious and happy all at once, and she felt she understood how that could be true.

“Yes, love?”

“Remember when we were riding together on our way to Edinburgh and I told you how I used to imagine that I ended up at Maison Elise by mistake and my parents were out there somewhere, trying to find me?”

Oh, Fergus.

Claire simply nodded, not trusting her voice as tears filled her eyes.

Fergus flashed her a smile, so bright and beautiful, and he looked younger in that moment than his eleven years ‒ like she was seeing a glimpse of that little boy who had lived in a dreamworld to survive.

“I know I said before that I used to wish my parents would come and rescue me from that place.” His gaze broke away from hers, suddenly shy, and she wanted to hold him to her heart again and never let go. “I’m glad it was you and Papa.”

[psalacanthea]

Reforged in Dragon’s Fire- Ch 14

New Chapter of the Howe x Cousland fic here!  It’s a big one.  Happy Holidays :D

...

Phoebe wished she didn’t have to fight Fergus, that she didn’t have to defend Nathaniel, but she had no choice– there weren’t enough Wardens left for her to lose any.

That was the only reason she’d stepped between them.

“I’ll have someone show you, I’ll be there in just a moment,” she promised, gesturing over one of the servants who was watching, wide-eyed.  “Come take the Teyrn to my room,” she called, heedless of their actual duties.  Everyone needed to do everything right now.

“Don’t be long,” Fergus told her, turning on a heel and storming off with a clank of armor.

She fought the urge to roll her eyes, lips thinning as she glanced back at Nathaniel.  He met her stare forthrightly, much to her frustration, despite the bloody nose.  In silence, like he had been this entire time.  If he’d said anything, made any complaint, her anger might have had an actual target.  Instead here she was, stuck between two opposing sides with no real outlet for her frustration and anger.

So, as it tended to do, that anger turned around on Nathaniel.

It wasn’t his fault, she knew that, but his father had murdered her nephew and sister– Fergus’ wife and child.  And she couldn’t very well be angry at her brother over this.  Her disgust with Rendon Howe was welling over, spilling onto him and tainting her view of him, a foul and bitter poison.  She didn’t even want to look at him right now, to think about what his family had done to her family– to Fergus.

“Make yourself invisible until Teyrn Cousland departs, Warden Howe,” she snapped.

Phoebe tried to ignore the looks the rest of her Wardens gave her, but they still stung– she was well aware she was being unreasonable.

“How do you propose I do so, Warden Commander?” he inquired, bloody fingers still pinching his nose.  “I am no thief, to skulk about.”

“No, I believe you’ve proven you have no skill in that area,” Phoebe agreed snidely.  Her earlier thoughts were still in the back of her mind, guiding her tongue, burying her guilt and unease.  “The upper keep has been inventoried, lists left as I requested.  Find said lists, and mark anything you wish to retain.  Everything else will be sold off.”

“I have neither eaten, rested, nor bathed, and you wish me to go…do inventory?” he asked her, lowering his hand.  The disbelief was thick in his voice.

Irritated with him for not simply agreeing, she glared.  “If you would rather retain nothing from your family’s belongings, go right ahead.  Otherwise they will be on a cart and gone come morning.”

Nathaniel fixed her with a cold, flat look.  “That is unreasonable.”

“Alas,” she said icily.  “I am unreasonable.”  Turning around, she stomped off in the direction Fergus had gone, annoyance still simmering.

The moment she’d done it she was ashamed of herself, but the anger kept her moving forward.  What was she supposed to do?  Fergus deserved his anger, and in a way she wished she could let him end Nathaniel’s life– not because of Nathaniel, the person.  But because of what he represented, who his family was, and how having him around hurt her.

There was no point in denying it.

She had finally, finally stopped thinking about Thomas constantly, and now Nathaniel was here and she was here, in Amaranthine, and it was like his ghost was following her.  Thomas felt inescapable.  Mired in thoughts of his motivations, his feelings, she kept re-examining the scars he had left on her, only to find out they weren’t scars at all.

They were unhealed wounds.

[danjaley]

Marianne and her family. They’re about to get some more screen-time.

Marianne had some of the best times in her life these past twenty-four years. She has a loving husband and two promising children. She was really ahead of her time in their upbringing, reading and drawing with them and writing children’s stories to read to them. It also meant a lot to her to have her mother with her. Louise gave her a sense of really being at home. She does miss her sisters though - and Fergus of course. While she felt (perhaps mistakenly) that there wasn’t a market for whimsical children’s stories, she published some more English poetry, still claiming to be translating “her shy French friend’s” work. As the children don’t need her so much any more, she spends more time socializing with friends and neighbours, and making contacts for her husband’s business.

I’m secretly glad Charles is middle-aged now. I have no idea what I did wrong with him, I wasn’t happy with his looks as a young man at all. But as it was always clear that he wouldn’t play a large role until later, it’s all right. Charles is descended from a Scottish family who went into exile with the Stuarts. Even by 1745 they felt more French than Scottish though and didn't really plan on returning. Originally a younger son, he wanted to become a painter, but had to take over the family’s glove manufactory after his brother’s death. When he’s honest with himself, he’s got to admit his talent as a painter wouldn’t have brought him as far.

You can read basics about the children on the character page - I don’t want to go into their characters too deeply right now, because of spoilers.

[tomb-bloom-noctem]

saw your post so go ahead and give us all of your DY headcanons

So...whoops this has been sitting in my drafts FOREVER and I deeply apologize anon. I wanted to go into it more but unfortunately it was forgotten and I feel terrible and I just wanna post it instead of leaving it forever again. 😔 my apologies again. So here's some headcanons specifically about Donald and Della.

So I'm guessing by DY you mean DT so I'm going with DT headcanons and if I misunderstood then I'm sorry anon 😂

Oh boy now I have to figure my thoughts 😂 this is not very organized!

Most of these will make an appearance in The Attempt and the Aftermath but some won't. I'm going to avoid putting ones that I feel will be spoilers.

Tombs DT Headcanons

Donald

He's ambidextrous

His parents taught him and Della the piano and guitar but it stuck better with Donald than it did Della.

His strengths are language, music, and arts. Reading, writing, learning other languages, drawing, playing music, etc. It's a kind of sad irony since so many people struggle to understand him.

He can speak, write, and understand English, Spanish, Portuguese, (courtesy of José and Panchito), Greek (courtesy of Storkules), Latin (courtesy of Quackfaster), and American Sign Language (courtesy of Hortense) also a small bit of Scottish Gaelic (courtesy of Fergus and Downy) and French (later in life courtesy of Daisy)

His voice being hard to understand is due to his vocal cords being underdeveloped when he was born. This causes him pain a lot of times, especially when he's sick or speaks a lot. (Already partially explored in my fic but some more coming up)

He was in the Navy for just under 4 years. (More on this coming up in TA&TA)

He doesn't like flying but his fear didn't really set in until after losing Della.

Donald has depression, anxiety, PTSD, haphephobia the fear of being touched, and selective mutism. Heavily explored in my fic with healing as the goal.

Panchito taught him his "world famous chili"

Donald is actually a pretty good cook when his luck doesn't mess with him and actually has access to better ingredients.

He mostly likes rock and metal music but he's open to all music of course. But he's still got a lot of his grunge tendencies.

His greatest fear is not being good enough for the boys.

Daisy is his first kiss, first really serious relationship, first all of it. He's a little bit embarrassed by it but he's just never really had time or even really opportunity to form romantic relationships before her.

He has the worst temper between him and Della but is more patient.

He used to really like sitcoms but now he can't really stand them. He doesn't watch TV much anymore. He's very tired.

Della

Della is right handed.

Her strengths are more mathematical, scientific, and mechanical. She's actually quite intelligent when she really applies herself. It's just that a lot of time she's impatient and rushes in.

Della has a better temper than Donald but she still has the Duck temper. She is less patient than him though.

Della knows English, sign language, and Greek (courtesy of Selene). Languages don't stick quite as well with her so she relies on Donald more so for language stuff.

If Huey, Dewey, and Louie were girls she'd have given them the same Jet, Turbo, and Rebel names. ("What can I say? These are awesome names and gender neutral.")

Della claims she doesn't believe in astrology and horoscopes but she kinda secretly does.

She didn't go to college but she did attend a private flight academy for a year to get her pilot's license.

Also she isn't completely tomboy. There is a feminine side to her but she will only reveal it when she wants to. This mostly happens with her female friends but the family sees it sometimes. But as a whole she prefers adventure and sports and "masculine" things. (All of which is valid)

Her favorite TV shows are of the action/adventure and mystery/crime genre.

She's the oldest by 2 minutes.

[renee-writer]

Young Turks Chapter Nineteen

AO3

“Are you sure?” He asks again. She nods. Both their first year of college is complete and they are going to start trying. It is a big thing and they have spoken to their mates and parents about it.

 

Ellen, anxious for grandchildren, is all for it. “You have handled all types of grownup things. You can handle this. After all, we will be right here to babysit.”

 

Brian, a bit more pragmatic, disagrees. “You have and we will but, Claire has a long way to go in her schooling. It seems like a better plan to wait. You are young with plenty of time.”

 

Harriet is over the moon at the idea of being an aunt. “I took the babysitter class at school. Learned first aid and everything. I won’t even charge you much.” Claire had laughed and hugged her tight.

 

“Thanks squirt.” Her parents now…

 

“There is no doubt you are doing better than expected.” Her dad started off, “and that is wonderful. But this. It is quite difficult being a parent. It isn’t like seeing to your little sister. This is a human you will be fully responsible for. On top of school.”

 

“Whatever you decide, we will support. You are both adults. Very young adults,” a sigh, “but adults nevertheless. This is your decision.” Julia adds.

 

Geillis simply stares at her. Then she shakes her head while smiling. “Make me the Godmother.”

 

Marsali and Claudel, who they had over for tea, both offered their hardy support.

 

“It is a bit crazy but so is marrying so young. You are making that work. I believe you can make this work too.” Marsali says.

 

Claudel adds, “Ouí, a bit, how you say, crazy. You two are deeply in amour. The children should be born out of such. From passionate love making come beautiful babies.” He raises the glass of wine to them, “To the beautiful children our dear friends shall make.”

 

“Very sure. This is right. I can feel it deep in my heart.”

 

They throw the unused rubbers away and , as Claudel said, make passionate love.

 

It is summer holiday so they have a lot of time together. Jamie is still working for his da and the other farmers around them. Claire studies preparing for the work ahead. She expects to be off a few quarters to have their baby.

 

They spend time with Geillis, Marsali, and Claudel, who Jamie made a quick mate too. Still young adults  they go to the clubs were they dance to The Go Go’s, Paul McCartney, Madonna, and others. Claire doesn’t drink and because she doesn’t , neither does Jamie. They become the couple that drives everyone else home.

 

“I think tonight will be the night Fergus and I…” Marsali tells Claire and Geillis. They sit at a table in the back of their favorite club.

 

“Girl, you haven’t !” Geillis throws her arms up in the air, “as bloody fine as your man is?”

 

The other lass blushes. “I am a virgin.” She confesses as if it were a sin.

 

“I think that is wonderful.” Claire reassures her. “You love him?”

 

“With every fiber in me.”

 

“He love you?” Geillis asks.

 

“He does.” She leans in close and her mates join her, making a zone of confidentiality, “ he wants to marry me. It is just convincing my mum. She doesn’t like him to much.”

 

“Screw her! You are an adult. Do like Claire here and elope. You guys can stay with me like did until you get a place.”

 

“He has one but thank you, Geillis.”

 

“Well there you go.” She checks the time on her watch. “I believe the register’s office is still open. Come let’s fetch the lads and get you married today.”

 

“Geillis, slow down. She may not want to…”

 

“Oh, but I do.” Claire is swept into their excitement. Jamie and Claudel are playing pool. They walk up and Marsali takes her man’s hand. “Wanna get married?”

 

“Ouí, I love you. Let’s  get married.”

 

They pile into Jamie’s car.  Geillis directs them and they are soon witnessing the union of Marsali and Claudel. Tears and shouts as they kiss. They drop the newlyweds off at Claudel’s flat and head back to the Fraser’s to celebrate.

 

Later, they figure out that is when their child was conceived.

[the-gay-prometheus]

AU Segment - What’s In A Name (Parts 1 and 2 Combined!)

Oh hey, hi, hello. I finally finished this bit! I’m not sure how I entirely feel about it, but considering all of these segments are still just ‘test runs’ for this AU, that’s kinda to be expected. No warnings needed for these to my knowledge, just wholesome silly stuff and a bit of heartfelt moments thrown in. Just some notes before I share this full segment: 1. You’ll notice that unlike the last segment I posted, the creature is simply called Creature with a capital c rather than “the creature.” There is a reason for this! The narrator, although omniscient, has a bias toward Victor and his point of view about this character. The name of said character changes along with Victor’s view of him - from being a mess of all kinds of nasty things (’beast,’ ‘monster,’ ‘demon,’ etc.), to simply being ‘the creature, then to being more of a formal name ‘Creature,’ and finally to his actual name. In moments where Victor is particularly upset with this character, the title used by the narrator may change to reflect that. 2. This is veeeery very long considering it’s both parts 1 and 2. Knowing tumblr, formatting may get all screwed up, but I’m hoping for the best! 3. Both parts will also be posted to ao3 in their own works, so if you’d rather have links to them there so you’re not endlessly scrolling through a massive wall of text, feel free to ask! 4. I’m still practicing my ‘not-so-angsty’ writing, so some parts may be a little wonky because the wholesome silly stuff is not quite where my skills lie yet 😅 5. Special shout-out to @fergus-reid! The name ‘Percival’ suggested in part two that Victor rejects because it is a ‘name that he heavily considered’ was 100% influenced by his incredible podcast “The Marksbury Incident” - a beautifully written and acted modern/cross-over type AU where Victor is also a trans man (and canonically considered the name Percival for himself)! It’s a really neat story and I totally recommend checking it out! As always, likes, reblogs, and comments of any kind are appreciated! Without further ado, I present ‘What’s In A Name?’

PART 1: “How about… hm… Gabriel?” Victor and Creature trekked along the mountain trail, Victor taking the lead so Creature wouldn’t go too far ahead. “That’s a good name, don’t you think?” Creature shrugged his shoulders, pausing to inspect the nearly white bark of a silver fir, tracing along the jagged edges with curiosity. “Is that a no?” Victor asked, somewhat out of breath as he turned to check on his creation. “Yes, that is a no,” Creature mumbled as he looked upward toward the top of the tall conifer. “Oh! I know! How about Luca? It means light!” Creature turned toward him with a disappointed frown. “Perfect, because surely I am the light of your life,” he remarked with clear sarcasm. For a moment Victor was almost impressed; after all, this was the first he had heard him make any kind of obviously sarcastic… joke? Was it a joke? “Well, no, that would be Henry,” Victor replied, turning back toward the trail and motioning for Creature to follow. “But you were born of lightning, so it would at least have some sentimental meaning?” The creation shook his head. “I would rather not be consistently reminded of my origins.” The two continued along the trail, Victor staying quiet as he tried to think of another name that might work. As they walked, they came along a portion of the trail with a steep, rocky cliff that harbored the continuation of the trail on top. Victor, being the stubborn person he was, insisted that he could climb up himself, but each time he tried to scrabble up, he would lose his hold or lose his footing and fall back down. Though he continued to insist he could do it, Creature lifted him up and set him on the top of the stone. Victor shot him a nasty look, brushing off his clothing as if where he had touched him was somehow now dirty, but Creature ignored it and hoisted himself up to the top with ease. “Then how about Adam?” Victor suggested, turning and starting his way down the trail once again. Creature stood at the cliff edge, staring at his creator. “After all, you came up with that one yourself.” “I… I do not want a name that I came up with,” Creature began. “I would much rather it come from you.” Victor gave him an odd look. “What does it matter? A name is a name, right? I named myself and you don’t see me complaining about it,” he retorted, crossing his arms. He glanced off to the side, then frowned. “Well… I suppose Henry technically helped- but I’m the one who chose it.” Creature crossed his own arms and gave him the kind of look that said ‘well, there’s the answer to your own question.’ Victor stared at him, then dramatically waved his arms and spun around. “Fine! Fine. Alright. What if I said I was giving that name to you because I thought it fit you and not because you came up with it? I mean, it is rather fitting considering-” “Then you missed my entire point of what I had said when I brought that name up,” Creature cut him off. Victor looked back to him. “Then what were you saying?” “I said I ought to be your Adam but… that it was not who I actually was to you. It was…” He hesitated. “A painful moment for me, Victor. To come to the realization that everything I should have been was everything I never would have had the chance to be.” Victor sighed, hanging his head. “Well, what if it’s who you are to me now?” he asked, his voice sincere. Creature shook his head. “That makes no difference. Once again it would simply be a reminder of such dreadful memories. I would rather live my life without being constantly reminded of my past simply by someone calling me by my name.” Victor didn’t answer, opting instead to take a step and continue onward. Creature hesitated, but followed all the same. “Gilbert?” Victor called out as he walked. Creature couldn’t help but chuckle. “Well that was out of nowhere.” “But is it a no?” “Yes, it is a no.” Victor made a grunt of disappointment, then looked around, pointing to a tall conifer with beautiful vibrant orange needles. “What about Larch? Like the tree?” he asked. His creation paused, looking at the tree and others of its species around them. “It is certainly a beautiful tree,” he remarked simply. “Though I am not sure it is a good name.” “Come on, it’s a great name!” Victor exclaimed, turning back to the trail and clambering his way up a boulder that blocked the path. “I will… give it some thought,” Creature promised with a slight smile, hopping over the boulder as though it were only a mild inconvenience. “That doesn’t sound like a no to me,” Victor proposed, grinning. “It is not a no, but it is also not a yes,” Creature explained, reaching up and plucking a handful of the orange needles from one of the trees and inspecting them closer. “Then it’s basically a no and I should keep going,” Victor suggested. Far ahead, the trees cleared and open sky above distant ridgeline could be seen - signifying they were nearly home - and Victor let out an exasperated sigh. “I told you I’d have a name for you by the time we got home. You’re making this more difficult than it has to be.” “And I told you that these things take far more time than what one walk will procure,” Creature countered. “Not that you listen to me, of course.” He continued onward, passing Victor, who watched as he walked by. “I don’t listen to anyone,” Victor called to him as he watched him walk. “I thought that would’ve been fairly obvious by now.” “Oh, it is certainly obvious, but that does not make it - or you, for that matter - any less irritating, Victor,” his creation answered from ahead. Victor frowned. “Hey- Hey! Wait up!” He scrambled as he broke into a run, tripping over a stone and nearly falling but somehow miraculously not falling flat on his face. “What was that supposed to mean?” Creature kept walking, pausing to lift a bough that crossed in front of the path and ducking beneath it, holding it away from the trail so Victor could pass without walking into it. “I was simply stating a fact,” he mentioned, letting the branch go once Victor was through. “Hmph.” Victor strode past him, ducking his way through the last tangle of branches before emerging to the ledge where their little hut stood. “Could’ve kept it to yourself,” he grumbled as he straightened his vest and brushed off his coat. “I will keep that in mind,” Creature stated, emerging beside him with at least one twig sticking awkwardly out of his long black hair. Victor looked up at him, staring at the twig in his hair with narrowed eyes until Creature got the hint that there was something there, then started making his way back toward their home with his shoulders drooped and his eyes on the ground. Grumbling something about how ungrateful his creation was, he made his way to the door, reached for it, and then- whack! The door flew open, hitting Victor directly in the face and knocking him backward. He clutched at his nose with a yelp of pain. Creature couldn’t help but chuckle - this was at least the third time this had happened in the past week alone. It was Henry who had opened the door, and who had promptly let out a sharp gasp of surprise upon seeing his boyfriend dramatically writhing around on the ground with his hand over his face. “Good lord Victor!” he exclaimed, dropping to the ground to check if he was ok. Victor sucked in a breath and hissed it out through his teeth, slowly removing his hand from his nose and blinking his eyes back open. Upon seeing Henry, directly above him, he managed a half smile. “You’re lucky I love you,” he sneered, pushing himself up onto his hands. Henry grinned, planting a kiss on Victor’s lips, which Victor gladly reciprocated. As he pulled back, Henry stood, offering a hand to help his boyfriend up from the ground. “I know I am,” Henry answered Victor’s original statement with a smirk. “Not that he poses much of a threat regardless,” Creature quipped from behind them. Victor rolled his eyes and Henry snickered. “Well, threat or not,” he began, wrapping his arm around Victor, “How’d it go? Did you two finally figure out a name?” “No, we didn’t. That one is too stubborn,” Victor complained, pointing to his creation. “I simply did not relate to any of the names you suggested, Victor. That is not stubbornness, that is…” He paused, thinking of how to word it. “Well… I suppose it could be stubbornness.” Henry shook his head. “Not stubbornness at all. A name is an important and meaningful thing, so if you have yet to hear one that you feel fits you, then it just doesn’t fit and that’s all there is to it,” he explained with a kind smile. Victor gave him a side-eyed glance, then sighed. “Alright, sure. Not stubborn. Just irritating,” he retorted, giving Creature a sneer. Creature stared at him for a moment, then shrugged. “Well, you did create me, after all.” Henry tried to hold back a laugh, and couldn’t help but let it out as Victor pushed him away with a scoff. “I am not irritating!” he announced, earning even harder laughter from Henry. He spun on his heels to face him, crossing his arms. “It’s not funny! I’m not irritating!” “Pfff- Yes you are!” Henry exclaimed through his laughter. Victor wanted to be angry, but Henry’s laughter was contagious as always and he found himself starting to snicker along. “No I’m not!” he repeated, though much less seriously. “You most certainly are,” Creature mentioned, starting to chuckle a bit himself. “I- I am absolutely not,” Victor reiterated, trying to make himself sound very serious but only making himself - as well as Henry and Creature - laugh even harder. “Yes you are!” Henry teased, reaching out and flicking Victor’s nose. Victor flung his hand up and stumbled back. “Ow! Henry that’s still sore!” he exclaimed reaching out to flick him back. Henry jumped out of the way and took off toward the open land of the ridge just beyond their hut still laughing as he gave his boyfriend a look that seemed to say ‘just try to catch me.’ Victor smirked and ran off after him, shouting “You sly bastard- get back here!” Creature watched them chase one another, his laughter slowly subsiding to a smiling sigh. Name or no name, he felt like he was finally so much closer to the life he wanted - a loving family of sorts, though a strange family it may be. He watched as Henry switched directions and came up from behind Victor, tackling him to the ground. Though he couldn’t make out what they were saying, he could hear as their own laughter turned to quiet words, and then to quiet as Henry silenced Victor with another kiss. A content expression on his face, Creature lay back, sprawled out on the ground, and watched the clouds as they passed through the sky. PART 2: The afternoon was fair-weathered and peaceful, blue sky hardly obscured by a few fluffy clouds with the sun casting its brilliant light evenly over the mountains. Creature had spent just about the entirety of the last few hours still lying on the ground, the first half watching the clouds that passed by while considering each shape they took as they changed with the wind, and the second half so well at peace that he had fallen asleep. That was, of course, until the feeling of something being dropped on his chest caused his eyes to snap open. Above him stood Henry, who was looking down at him with his arms crossed and a smile on his face. Creature managed an awkward smile in return, and looked down at what had been dropped on him. He recognized the small leather bag and gently plucked it off his chest, reaching up to drop it back into Henry’s now waiting outstretched hand. “Fancy a game?” Henry asked with a grin, shaking the bag and causing the contents inside to clink and rattle. Creature chuckled and slowly lifted himself upright. “Of course, though you could have woken me in perhaps a less startling manner,” he replied. “Where’s the fun in that?” Henry joked, tossing the bag back and forth between his hands. “Will Victor be joining us?” Creature inquired as he rose to his feet and brushed the dust and dirt from his cloak and pants. “Begrudgingly, yes,” came a flat voice from behind him. He turned to find Victor standing there, looking almost entirely unamused - almost, though Creature could tell he was actually looking forward to it. Henry was the first to jog over to their typical outdoor playing spot, a fairly flat length of stone close to the edge of the ledge, and emptied the contents of the bag onto the ground. An array of clearly non-professionally made dominos, all somewhat unevenly cut with a yellow-stained tint (the clear sign of being made with real bone), clattered down and Henry quickly flipped any that fell right-side-up over so that only the blank sides were facing. Creature arrived and sat down carefully, knowing the drill by now and beginning to choose his five tiles. Victor flopped himself down beside Henry, faking an annoyed sigh as he started to pick his tiles. Henry caught the fake sigh and snatched one of the tiles Victor was about to pick before he could take it, resulting in the two in the two of them giving each other mock-mad looks before they both devolved into a small fit of giggles. As the two of them continued to pester each other while picking their tiles, Creature picked up his own tiles to see if he had managed to pick up a doubles tile. “All-threes as usual, correct?” he mentioned above their antics. Henry looked up at him with a nod. “Yes, unless you wanted to try something different today?” Creature thought for a moment. “No, I am content with the usual.” “Well that’s perfect,” Victor quipped as he looked at his tiles, his expression brightening. He set one of his tiles down, one with six pips on both ends. “Twelve points for me,” he mused, picking up a small splinter of stone and scratching twelve tally marks down beside him on a bare spot of the stone ground amongst a multitude of other scratched-over tallies from games past. “Perfect for me too,” Henry teased, placing a tile with six pips on one end and none on the other. “That’s twelve points for me also.” Victor shot him a clearly sarcastically scathing glance, which Henry countered with a smirk as he reached for the stone splinter Victor had been keeping tally with to tally his own points. “It seems we are starting this with a tie,” Creature examined, placing a fully blank tile beside the one Henry had placed down before picking up a much larger splinter of stone beside him and carving out twelve tallies for himself. Victor gave him a disappointed glance before checking his own tiles and finding one he could place, though it would earn him no more points. Henry placed his next tile and the turn was passed to Creature, who managed to score another twelve points. “Hey Victor, I think I figured out what name we should give him,” Henry mentioned with sarcasm as Creature scratched down his tallies. Creature glanced upward, listening carefully. Victor didn’t answer, but instead rolled his hand in a motion that meant ‘go on.’ Henry snickered as he placed down a tile of his own. “I think we should call him Victor the Second because at this rate you’re going to lose your winning streak.” “No, I think we should call him Henry,” Victor countered, voice dripping with sarcasm as he played his own next tile and scratched down six points for himself. “I am not taking either of your names,” Creature muttered with a slight smile as he placed his next tile down and etched twelve more points on his tally. “That would be far too strange.” “Fair enough,” Henry replied, checking his tiles and realizing he needed to draw from the free-pile in order to place one down. “How about… Ah! I’ve got it!” he exclaimed. “How about Hector?” Both Victor and Creature gave him an odd look. “Hector?” Victor repeated, raising one eyebrow as he also picked up a few tiles from the free pile in order to find one to place down - which he did, and scratched in three points for himself. “Henry, Victor,” Henry explained, raising one hand with each name. “Hector,” he finished, clapping his hands together. Victor couldn’t help but let out a snort of laughter, and Creature chuckled softly as well. “Amusing and sweet, Henry, but I do not think that is the name for me,” he replied, placing his final tile down. Checking over the playing area again, he grinned. “And I do believe that is a win.” Victor shot his glance down. “What?!” He looked at what had been put down. “How? Are you already out of bones?” Creature nodded. “Indeed.” “Ha!! The unbeatable Victor finally tastes defeat!” Henry exclaimed, ruffling his fingers through Victor’s hair - Victor, who flicked his hand away to take a closer look at the spread as if somehow that would make it change. “No, no - not possible. Absolutely impossible.” He looked up at Creature and squinted. “You cheated somehow.” Creature gave him a confused look. “I… do not believe it is even possible to cheat at this game?” “Don’t mind him, he’s just being a sore loser,” Henry reassured him, bumping Victor in the shoulder with his elbow. Victor gave a huff and crossed his arms. “Rematch?” Creature nodded. “If you are both so inclined.” Victor glanced away, trying to hold back a smile. Truth was, he actually was very much enjoying himself. “... Fine,” he said at a length, beginning to flip and mix the tiles. They each plucked their dominos from the pile. “Anyone have a double six?” Henry asked as he looked at his tiles. Victor and Creature both looked at each other as if asking each other the same question, then both shook their heads. Creature looked back down at his tiles, then placed down a double five. “Good enough.” “How about Daniel?” Victor asked as Henry played a tile. “Do you have a reason for that name?” Creature responded as Victor played his next and scratched a new tally of three. “Not particularly. It’s just a nice name,” Victor replied, gesturing that it was his turn. “I see.” Creature placed a tile, and scratched a six for himself, which prompted a quiet ‘scheisse!’ from Victor. He couldn’t help but smile at the reaction. “I would have to say no.” “Does it have to be a name with meaning?” Victor asked as he watched Henry play his turn. “I would prefer it to, if possible.” Victor thought for a moment as he placed his next tile. “Percival is a good name,” Henry suggested with a smirk toward Victor. Victor gave a thoughtful look, then furrowed his brow and gave Henry a look of flat annoyance. “He can’t just have the name I didn’t take,” he muttered. “You had considered naming yourself Percival?” Creature inquired as he picked up a tile from the draw pile and placed it down, etching a twelve in his tallies. “Considered it, yes,” Victor grumbled in reply. “I… do like the sentiment of taking on your unused name,” Creature mentioned, thinking it through more as he watched Henry play his next turn. “Well- you can’t have it,” Victor responded, picking up two tiles and placing one down. “What about Prometheus? I fancied myself to be like him while I was making you, so there would be some meaning to it.” Creature took a moment to think, then shook his head. “I feel I really do not want something that relates in any way to my creation. Not… that I resent being created, mind you, but I have tried to put the past behind me as much as possible, as you know,” he explained as he set down his next tile. Victor sighed heavily, resting his elbow on his knee and his chin on his hand as Henry played his turn and scratched a twelve down for himself. They continued their turns in relative silence, until finally as the sun was beginning to set in the sky it was Victor who placed his final tile. Though he felt like he should be celebrating that, instead Victor felt… defeated. He got up, muttering, “Good game, both of you,” before sulking off back to the cabin. Henry watched him go with a concerned gaze. “Have I… said something wrong?” Creature asked quietly, suddenly beginning to worry that he had hurt his creator in some way. Henry sighed. “No, you’re fine,” he reassured him as he began collecting the tiles and placing them back into their holding pouch. “You coming inside?” Creature shook his head. “I… think I will stay out here for the time being.” Henry smiled at him and gave him an understanding nod before making his way to the cabin. As he stepped inside, he set the pouch down on the side table by the door and made his way into what they considered the ‘common space,’ where Victor sat by the fireplace which only softly glowed with a freshly started fire. “Are you alright, love?” Henry asked gently, sitting beside him and wrapping an arm around him. Victor heaved a shaky sigh and rested his head on Henry’s shoulder. “I just… I feel like I can’t do right by him,” he mumbled, pressing himself closer to his boyfriend. “Nothing I’ve ever done has been… right.” Henry listened carefully as he spoke, holding him tighter and resting his head against Victor’s. “Well, you’re trying, aren’t you?” he suggested softly. “I think he’s just happy that you’re trying.” “Trying isn’t enough,” Victor stated, sitting upright and staring into the small, flickering flames. “After all I’ve done and all I’ve said, trying isn’t enough.” “Then let’s change our approach,” Henry recommended with a smile, reaching out and gently turning Victor’s face toward him to give him a tender kiss. Victor exhaled softly and leaned into it, then slowly pulled back. “How so?” “We could start by doing what we did when we chose your name.” Victor’s eyes widened. “Oh!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “Henry, you’re a genius!” “I’m flattered, but that honor belongs to you, love,” Henry quipped with a grin. “Come on - let’s start reading.” The two of them scoured the collection of books that Henry had brought up with him, picking out names and sounding them off to each other one by one. They went through book after book until the sun disappeared and the sky went dark, either one of them occasionally throwing a new log into the fire to ensure they had plenty of light and warmth. After a few hours, Victor stared down at a page, and uttered, “I think I’ve got it.” Henry looked up from his own book and set it down, swiftly moving over to him. Victor pointed a word out to him. “That one.” Henry gave him a quizzical look. “Are you sure? That’s hardly a name.” Victor looked up at him. “I know, but think about the meaning! It’s perfect!” Henry thought for a moment, then wrapped his arms around him with a smile. “With a bit of tweaking, I think you might be right,” he murmured, planting a kiss on his cheek. “You really do mean it, don’t you.” Victor glanced back at him. “Hm?” “You’ve really come to care for him, I mean,” Henry explained, releasing his grip. Victor hesitated, but then nodded. “I have - genuinely. I just… hope this will be enough to prove it.” “I’m sure it will be perfect.” Creature was sitting out near the edge of the ledge, resting his weight on his hands as he stared up at the stars as they glittered above. Victor took a deep breath as he stepped outside and breathed out slowly. You can do this. It’ll be fine, he thought to himself as he walked over as quietly as he could. He sat beside his creation, and tilted his head back to look upward as well. Creature turned his head slightly to look at him, then returned to his stargazing. “Agape,” Victor said suddenly. “...What?” Creature asked, once again looking over to him. Victor kept his eyes on the stars, but smiled slightly. “Do you know what it means?” Creature stared at him, thinking, then returned his gaze upward. “It is… Greek.” “That’s right.” He thought some more, racking his brain for memories of the word. “One of the… three Greek forms of love, correct?” Victor nodded. “Indeed.” He glanced away as he continued to think. “...If I recall correctly, it is considered the highest form of love. A deep, profound respect. Some define it as… the mutual love between God and man, and between man and God.” Victor’s smile grew - his creation’s intelligence still continued to amaze and fascinate him. “That is also correct. Though… I think I’d like to propose a more general definition.” Creature looked over at him. “What definition would that be?” Victor took a moment, then closed his eyes. “The mutual love between a creator at his creation, and between a creation and his creator.” Creature’s eyes widened, and for the sake of trying not to immediately shed a tear by thinking about that statement, he stared back up to the heavens. “That is… a definition I could approve of.” “How about a name?” “A… name?” “Is it a name you could approve of?” Victor reiterated, opening his eyes and looking over to see that Creature was now once again staring at him, though this time clearly not trying to hide the tears in his gleaming yellow eyes. His silence disturbed him, and he looked away. “...No, no nevermind - forget it. Forget it.” “Victor I,” Creature began, his voice soft and shaken. “That is so much more of a meaningful name than I could have ever imagined.” Victor glanced back at him. “Are you sure?” Creature nodded, smiling wide as tears streamed down his face. “I have scarcely been more sure.” Victor swallowed back tears of his own and smiled back to him. “Then consider it finalized, Agape.” He paused, then leaned forward and embraced him as tightly as he could. “Agape Frankenstein, my first and only…” he paused, thinking for a moment, then smiled contentedly, “son. My first and only son.” Agape didn’t know how to react at first - he was overwhelmed with so many emotions; relief, hope, joy. The most he could do was wrap his arms around his creator - his father - and finally take in what it really meant to be loved.

[redroci]

wip Sunday

Tagged by @amistrio

from the dragon age wip again, but a decade earlier:

"I’ll just take one more moment of this assembly’s time before we get down to the business of ending the Blight then, if you will allow it,” he said, loud enough for the whole hall to hear. Ava and Arl Eamon were both giving him nearly identical looks of confusion, which nearly made him lose his composure, knowing as he did her intense dislike of the Arl. Rather than laugh, he turned to face her fully as {REDACTED} “My lady Ava Rowena Elissa Cousland-” he smirked at the indignation that flashed across her face at being full named in front of the entire landsmeet, as well as the shock that dawned when he continued: “-will you marry me?” Her shock was echoed in the whisper that rippled through the crowd, a low murmur squashed as quickly as it passed as the assembly strained to hear the response. It was only a moment that stretched between question and answer, yet it stretched long enough for Alistair to mentally berate himself for asking in front of so many witnesses, and to doubt whether she felt the same as he did, despite all the evidence of the past year.

To his intense relief, however, and however long the silence felt, it did take Ava only a moment to collect herself. “Of course I will,” she said, taking a step closer to put her hand in his. The room erupted in cheers as he pulled her into a kiss.

“You didn’t think I’d let you saddle me with running a nation by myself, did you?” he murmured into her ear.

“I was trying not to think that far ahead, to be honest. Everytime I did I thought about Fergus, marrying for politics so Cailan could marry for love.” He could see the doubt in her eyes when she looked up at him, love at odds with the duty she’d had instilled in her from birth. 

He kissed her again, whispered “fuck politics” against her lips and felt the doubt fall away when she smiled.

So that's fun

tagging @chyrstis, @jackiesarch, @jackalopestride, @tommymillers, @geronimo-11 etc

[crackerjackawrites]

Journey to the Giggling Glade, or, Adventures of a Cottagecore NB Who Works in a Cafe (6k Words)

 Roman heads to a magical forest to gather some plants for their boss, Clara. But things don’t go as planned when Roman stumbles upon a mysterious figure outside the forest. (originally written August 2021)

“Roman!”

Roman darted past a server, nearly sending the plate of roast beef and vegetables crashing to the floor. They scurried past a chef leaning over a saucepan, disrupting his chanting and making him drop a half conjured tomato into the pan, it immediately began to sizzle. They ran through a large cloud of steam, taking in the rich smell of the sauce that was boiling just next to them. Finally, they got to the other side of the kitchen. Clara was standing there, her arms folded. Despite her mean demeanor, she was beaming, as always.

“Yes, Miss Clara?” panted Roman.

“I need you for an errand, dearie. I’ve just run out of spitebark root. Could you go out and get some for me, please?”

“Of course, Miss Clara,” said Roman, “Which store is that from again?”

Clara chuckled heartily, “Oh, dearie. It’s not from any store. You need to go out to the Giggling Glade.”

Roman’s face dropped, they couldn’t go out to the Glade! 

“I can’t go out to the Glade!” they said.

“Why of course you can, dearie. Come with me!”

Clara shuffled out of the bustling kitchen and into her private office. Roman had only been in there once before, when they first applied to work at Clara’s. Clara walked over to the side of the room, where a small table with two built-in hobs lay. The stove clicked as Clara set the temperature, before it finally ignited with flames. She grabbed a frying pan and placed it over the fire, then she began to cast into the pan. 

She placed her hand calmly in the centre of the pan, the roaring fire beneath not seeming to bother her at all. Granny hands, figured Roman, they were fireproof. She closed her eyes and exhaled, oil began to pool at her fingertips. The oil spread out until a thin layer covered the whole pan. As the oil began to boil, Clara clapped her hands together and separated them, between her palms appeared a rolled up piece of thin, edible wrapper with what looked to be chocolate inside. She placed the creation into the pan.

“These are ji-ai,” she said while summoning another into her hands and laying it beside the first, “a recipe from Western Piasohn. That’s not the important thing, though.” she waggled a third ji-ai at Roman, “I’m enchanting these. If you get injured, eat one and it will help. I’ll make you three, that should be plenty.” 

Clara turned from the three ji-ais in the pan. The smell of melting chocolate danced its way over to Roman and up their nose. The rich sweetness reminded them of a recipe their father used to make. Clara took a small bowl, placed her hand into it and concentrated again. Instead of filling with oil, the bowl began to fill with a golden sugar. 

“Now, spitebark is a funny little plant. They’re named spitebarks because they hate growing near each other. In fact, they hate each other so much that the flowers face in the complete opposite direction to the nearest other plant. That means you can always find them in pairs! I only need two as well, so you shouldn’t need to look for long - one will be for planting and the other will be for experimenting as soon as you get back.”

Clara turned back to the pan, the ji-ais were nicely browning. She flipped them over in the oil and walked over to a bookshelf. She grabbed a book and flicked through it before finding the right page.

“These are spitebarks,” she said, pointing to a drawing of a long, thin, brown plant. It looked like a twig from a tree had been planted in the ground. Clara moved her finger down the illustration, stopping at the large root at the bottom, “This is what I need, you can cut the rest of the plant off when you find it.” 

Clara reached into the pan and took out the first ji-ai, she rolled it around in the sugar until it was lightly coated, then she placed it onto a white napkin. She did this with the other two before wrapping them up. She then placed the napkin into a small pouch and handed it to Roman, who tied it to their belt. 

“Here you go, dearie! Now, you know how to get to the Glade, don’t you?”

Of course they knew how to get to the Glade, they’d been told their whole life to stay as far away from it as possible. And they had. 

Now, Roman stood before the Forest of Fables (which the Glade lay within). Clara had walked with them out of New Elmus but they had been on their own since leaving the city limits. Now all they had to do was find the Glade. It shouldn’t be hard, right? They just had to start walking and they’d stumble upon it eventually. That was the magic of the Glade - all it took was one step. But Roman had never been to the Glade before, they had no idea what lay within it. Their mother had told them time and time again to never go in but she never said why. Roman had no idea what to expect once they were inside. 

The wind whistling through the trees pulled Roman out of their thoughts and back into the real world. They had been standing at the edge of the forest for some ten minutes now, debating whether to enter or not. Clara would be furious if they came back empty handed. Roman had never seen Clara mad before, even the thought of it was breaking their heart. They had to get the spitebark. They just had to take that first step…

“Oi!” 

It was a voice from behind, Roman spun. Before them stood a tall, lean man with curly, blonde hair. He had his arms crossed and Roman imagined that if he were nearer the forest he would’ve been casually leaning against a tree. His smirk was that of a man who had many secrets, some his own and some belonging to others. He began to approach Roman, walking with a swagger that they were completely expecting, yet was still impressed by. As he got closer, Roman noticed his stark, emerald eyes.

He spoke again, “What’s someone like you doing out here? Didn’t your parents tell you that you shouldn’t go near the Forest of Fables?”

“I’m not a kid.” said Roman, bluntly, “Who are you, anyways?”

The man scoffed, “Haven’t you heard of me?” Roman genuinely hadn’t. The man paused for a second, expecting an answer, but continued once he realised he wouldn’t get one, “The name’s Bailey. Bailey Giload: mercenary for hire.”

“So, what, you’re out here to kill something?”

“Not today, my friend.” Bailey placed an arm over Roman. They flinched, but settled quickly, “Work’s been slow this week so I’ve had to expand my reach. I’m going shopping.”

Roman muttered, “Wait...” under their breath.

Bailey continued, “I’ve been sent out here by Fergus Ford of the Magnificent Beast Bakery. He told me to get him some spitebark root.” So many thoughts were flying through Roman’s head that they couldn’t get anything out before Bailey started speaking again, “But enough about me. You never answered my question; what are you doing in the Forest of Fables?”

In? thought Roman. Then they looked around. Since when had they started walking? Something about Bailey’s confidence had seeped into Roman, singel handedly slaying any intimidation they felt. From the forest, at least.

“I was… just… coming here to see what it’s like. Yeah. I thought maybe I could face my fears and finally try and go to the Glade.”

“You’re going to the Glade?” asked Bailey. 

“Yup.”

“Maybe I could help you out? I feel like I’m a tad more prepared than you are.” Bailey looked Roman up and down, then smirked.

Roman looked down at themselves, they were still mostly wearing the uniform from Clara’s. Then they looked at Bailey, he sported light armour that allowed for significantly more flexibility than the shirt and trousers that Roman wore. There was also a cutlass sheathed at his waist, which Roman imagined Bailey would whip out at any sign of danger, ready to protect them from whatever lay ahead. Then, after the monster was defeated, Bailey would look over to Roman and-

“Stop.” whispered Bailey. 

Roman froze in place and turned to Bailey. They whispered back, “What is it?” 

Bailey pointed deeper into the woods. Roman looked past the thick, mossy trees nearby, but they couldn’t spot what he was pointing at. Then, suddenly, something darted between two trees. Roman didn’t catch what it was. 

“Just stay calm.”

It jumped again, this time Roman saw it. The creature was lanky and covered in dark fur. Something shone from it as it moved. A weapon, maybe. It was hard to see any details from that distance. The creature continued to leap between the trees, slowly making its way over Roman and Bailey’s heads. 

Once it had left their sight, Roman asked, “What was that thing?”

“You’ve never seen an eavener before?”

“That’s an eavener?”

“Please don’t tell me you’ve only ever seen them in those Jaz Carpenter books?”

Roman paused, then looked down at their feet. Bailey struggled to stifle a laugh. 

Bailey continued, smirking and shaking his head, “You’re really not fit for being out here. Maybe you should turn back.”

“No,” said Roman. Bailey looked up, taken aback by their bluntness. “I have to get to the Glade.”

“Alright, fine. But don’t go hurting yourself.”

The two continued walking, only stopping for Bailey to take a drink from a pouch he had strapped to the side of his backpack. Roman sat on a tree stump opposite him. The smells of the forest were pungent now: wet dirt, wet bark and flowers that Roman couldn’t identify.

Bailey looked over, “I haven’t seen you drink anything this whole journey, why?”

“I didn’t bring water.”

Bailey’s eyes widened this time. They lowered the bottle from their mouth, “Oh my God, Roman,” suddenly Bailey’s whole demeanor changed, the once cocky persona melted away to reveal caring eyes and genuine worry. Bailey handed his pouch to Roman, “Here, take it. Finish it for all I care. Once we get back out of here I’m gonna teach you everything. I can tell you want to be out here adventuring but you’re clearly not prepared for it. Would that be alright?”

Roman put the pouch to their mouth. They didn’t drink enough to finish it, but it was still a significant swig. “Thank you,” they said.

“Cool,” said Bailey, “It’s a date.”

Roman nearly spat the water from their mouth, then they swallowed, “A date?”

“I mean,” Bailey perched on the stump next to Roman, “If you want to call it that.” 

He reached out for Roman’s hand. A heat rose within Roman, like coal being furiously shoveled into a furnace.

“I’d love to,” the hearth of their heart was erupting now. No one had ever seen them in this way before, and Roman had never seen anyone the way they were seeing Bailey right now.

Bailey closed his eyes and lent forward, Roman quickly caught on and followed suit. When their lips locked it was like nothing Roman had ever felt before. 

Then there was a thud and the sound of leaves rustling. Bailey let out a cry, nearly biting Roman’s lip. Roman’s eyes snapped open, they were still face-to-face with Bailey, but behind him stood the eavener. It loomed over Bailey, its long body taking it to nearly six foot when it stood on its hind legs. Its head was like that of a weasel. Roman bolted up from the stump and began to back away from the beast. 

“Please, stay back,” they said.

The eavener jumped from the stump, tearing its arms out of Bailey’s back. Roman saw that it had a piece of sharp flint in each hand. They were covered in blood now. Bailey’s blood.

It began to speak in a low whisper, “Get out of here while you can. And do not associate yourself with this human.” Then it leaped high into a nearby tree and scampered up it. 

“Bailey!” called Roman, running over to him. Bailey had fallen back after the eavener had jumped off of him and now he lay slumped over the stump he sat on.

His voice was frail, “Get out, Roman.... Save yourself.”

“No!” said Roman, “I can save you.” Roman untied the pouch from their waist and pulled out a ji-ai, “Here, take this.”

They fed Bailey the healing pastry, desperately hoping it would cure him like Clara said it should. But what if the wound was too large? Or what if the eavener had some sort of magical poison that gourmantic food couldn’t heal?

“Thank you,” said Bailey, “But why?” Then, his eyes widened and his face beamed with realisation.

“See?” said Roman, “Maybe I’m not all that useless after all.”

“No,” he said, colour already beginning to flood back into his face, “Saving me once doesn’t excuse forgetting to bring water.”

“Okay, fair,” said Roman, smirking.

The two sat there for a moment, Bailey still lying down on the stump and Roman sitting up next to him. They stared into each other’s eyes, living the moment. 

Bailey broke the silence, “So… are you going to tell me where you got those from? You don’t seem like you’d be prepared or experienced enough to bring something like that.”

Busted, thought Roman. They sighed, “Fine. I’m here to get spitebark root too. I’m here for Clara.”

Bailey sat up, “What?”

“Look-”

“And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“It just never c-”

Bailey jumped up from the log, “We kissed! You should’ve said before that!”

“It never came up!”

“It shouldn’t need to come up!”

Roman looked away, “Look, okay,” they said, “You’re not perfect either!”

“What do you mean?”

“The eavener told me. It said, ‘do not associate with this man.’ There’s something up with you, too.”

“Wait, when did it say that?”

“Right after it stabbed you! You were probably too busy wailing to hear.”

“Oh c’mon! Now you’re picking on me for screaming in pain after I got stabbed!”

Roman paused, “No. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.” Bailey smiled weakly.

Roman couldn’t help but beam back at him, “God damn it. You’re too cute for your own good!”

“No more secrets?”

“No more secrets.”

“Great!” Bailey spun around, before pointing in the direction they had been heading before, “Then let us continue.”

“Alright,” said Roman, following Bailey, “But you said it yourself, ‘No more secrets.’ So you’ve got to tell me, what did the eavener mean?”

Bailey huffed, “Fine.” He looked thoughtful for a second, probably thinking through what he was going to say. “The eavener’s don’t like me because of an old job I had. I can’t tell you who it was for - client confidentiality and all that - but suffice it to say they were powerful and rich. This was back when I had a party, there were four of us. I don’t really want to talk about them though. Anyway, we were asked by this client to go to the Forest of Fables and find the eaveners’ hideout, so that the client could bring in their army to eradicate them.”

“An army?” asked Roman, “Who was this guy, the king?”

Bailey glanced at Roman, his face blank, innocent.

“Oh.” said Roman, they looked down at their feet “Right.”

“Yeah,” continued Bailey, “After we arrived in the Glade it didn’t take long to find the eavener huts. You know how this place works. You’ll find what you’re looking for. They build their houses in the treetops, y’know? Put leaves underneath them to camouflage with the canopy. We only noticed them after a bird flew overhead and made…” Bailey mumbled a name, “-look up.” He took a long breath, Roman wrapped their arm over his shoulder. “We joked that we might have already walked past them and that the Forest was desperately trying to get us to find what we were looking for.” Bailey chuckled, and tears welled up in his eyes. He sniffed, “It didn’t go well, Roman. We were ambushed. I was the only one who made it out. And now the King thinks we’re all dead and if he knew I was alive he’d sure as hell try to stop me! And so now I’m stuck in mercenary limbo. I change my name for every job so that no one can track me.”

“Does that mean-?” 

“Bailey’s not my real name, no. But I don’t really have a real name. My birth name belonged to someone who abandons their team when anything goes wrong. I’m different now. And I’ve never settled on one name since. Maybe Bailey can become my real name. Since it’s what I was using when I finally found someone worth having an identity for.”

Roman stopped, “That’s…” The flood gates opened, Roman wasn’t expecting it to be theirs. They flung their arms around Bailey. Bawling, Roman said, “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me!”

Bailey patted Roman’s head then returned the hug, “Y’know,” he said, “We’re never going to get to the Glade if you keep stopping to be this cute!”

“Alright, alright,” said Roman, collecting themself, “Let’s go!”

Bailey squinted, “Is that-? Oh my God it is! Roman, we’re finally here!”

Roman gasped, and the pair ran towards the glade.

Bailey burst into the Glade, and Roman stumbled out not too long after. It was filled with bright light which highlighted the tall, radiant grass and sparkled off of a stream that travelled through. There were rocks neatly placed around, it almost looked too perfect to be real, but magic did that sometimes. A gust of wind blew towards the pair, when it moved through the trees behind them it sounded like laughter. That was how the Giggling Glade got its name. 

By the time Roman had struggled past the bushes and branches at the Glade’s borders and gotten used to the sudden change in brightness due to the lack of canopy, Bailey had already clambered up a rock and was scouting the area, his hand placed firmly at his brow to block out the sun. 

Roman called up to him, “Any specific place to look for spitebark?”

“I don’t know. This is my first time too.”

“You have first times? I figured you’d have already done everything there is to do.”

Bailey laughed, “Hey, there’s a difference between being better than you and being the best, a big one. Anyway I don’t think scouting up here is doing any good for finding the spitebark. From my understanding, they’re pretty small.”

“Why were you up here then?”

“Force of habit. Either that or some desperate hope that they’d be here.”

“Oh,” muttered Roman, but Bailey paid them no mind as he began to climb down.

Once he reached the bottom, Bailey looked full of energy again, “So,” he said, “What’s the plan?”

“So we’re looking for those thin, brown plants. They look like sticks,” said Roman.

“Yep.”

“And they don’t grow close together, that's why they’re called spitebark.”

“Really?” said Bailey, “Ford could’ve said something about that.”

Roman smirked, “Are you saying I actually knew something out here that you didn’t?”

“I guess I concede,” Bailey knelt on the floor and bowed at Roman, “Teach me your ways, O Monarch of Agriculture!”

“Okay I get it!” Roman chuckled, “Just let me have this one win!”

Bailey began to get back up. “Fine,” he smirked. 

“We should split up, cover more ground.”

“But-” started Bailey.

“But what? Aren’t we safe here in the Glade?”

“I mean, probably. But I don’t want to risk it.”

“What if we stay within sight?” said Roman, “That way we can cover more ground while also keeping an eye on each other.”

“Fine,” said Bailey, “Honestly I just want to be near you.”

“Aww, you’re so sweet! Seriously, though, I want to find these roots and get back quick.”

Roman called from behind Bailey, “I think I’ve found some!” Bailey turned, noticing Roman pointing at a rock. They stepped behind it and knelt, vanishing out of Bailey’s sight.

“Hey!” called Bailey, running over.

Roman popped back up, “What?”

“No leaving each other’s sight, remember!”

Roman scoffed, “Fine. Get over here then!”

As Bailey rounded the rock, Roman pointed at a plant. It was taller than Bailey expected, nearly coming up to his chest - or Roman’s chin. 

“Alright so this is one,” said Roman, kneeling down to grab at the base, “We need the roots so I’ve got to dig it up. At least I was given a spade.”

Bailey smiled, “Is there anything I can do?” he asked. 

“Only start trying to find another one.”

“Y’know what?” said Bailey, “I think I’m fine watching you dig actually. I’ll do the next one, though.”

Roman finished digging the dirt around the spitebark and lifted it up. At the bottom of the stem was a large, muddy bulb.

“Here it is!” they said, “Our first spitebark root!”

“We did it!” 

“Just one more to go for me! How many do you need?”

“Ford wants fifty.”

Roman flinched, “Fifty? That’s insane! How much is he even paying you for that?”

“Twenty five garsons, he said they were worth a half each.”

“I don’t even think there’s fifty in the whole Glade! These things are so rare they go for at least twelve garsons each.”

“What! You’re kidding, right?”

“No! He must’ve figured that he could rip you off because you don’t know about them.”

Bailey was boiling inside. How dare he? How dare Ford undercut him like that? Bailey spoke, “When we get back, I am gonna get that b-”

“Hey, hey, hey! I know what you’re thinking.” Roman looked down to Bailey’s hand, Bailey followed their gaze. Since when had he gotten his cutlass out? “We can speak to Clara when you get back. He’ll respect her. Everyone respects her. And he sure doesn’t deserve your blade.”

“You’re right.” said Bailey, resheathing his sword. He turned to Roman, “Hey, maybe I’ll start working for Clara when we get back. We would see each other more.”

“I’d like that,” said Roman, smiling, “Alright! Back to the search.”

“At least now we know there won’t be any around here,” said Bailey, gesturing vaguely in a circle around where they both stood. 

“Now that we’ve found one, another shouldn’t be hard. They point away from the nearest other plant.” There was a small flower bud at the top of the bark, it pointed out slightly. Bailey had thought nothing special of it until just then, 

“If I remember correctly,” continued Roman, “it was pointing that way before I dug it up,” they pointed right, “So we need to go that way,” Roman pointed left, then turned to Bailey, ”Sorry if I’m boring you by the way, I’m sure you knew all this.”

“Actually I didn’t. It seems like Ford wasn’t as useful as he seemed.”

Roman laughed, “It’s so weird. It’s like he just wanted you to get lost out here.” before turning to walk to the next spitebark.

That phrase echoed in Bailey’s mind. He just wanted you to get lost out here.

Roman turned back, realising that Bailey hadn’t moved yet. Then they realised, “You don’t think...?”

“Actually, Roman,” said Bailey, “I do think. I think he set me up! He sent me here knowing how dangerous it can be and would have had me sit here for hours hunting for something I’ll never find. Until what? Until I get found by eaveners? Until I’m overcome with the emotions of returning and just off myself right in the middle of the Glade? Until I go crazy and start seeing the ghosts of my dead friends?-”

There was a rustling from behind Roman, Bailey looked past them. Something was in the bushes.

Roman saw Bailey’s face drop.

“What is it?” they asked.

Bailey raised a shuddering hand, and pointed over Roman’s shoulder, they turned. 

Before Roman stood three humanoid figures, their skin was an ashen grey and their eyes were orbs of pale green light. The first was a tall, muscular figure who wore heavy armour and wielded a long spear. Beside him stood a shorter woman with a flowing robe, her hands were held out and magical fire was sputtering in them. Behind the two figures loomed a huge, bare chested man, his battleaxe’s head looked bigger than Roman’s entire torso. Each of the figures' clothing matched the grey of their skin. Roman also noticed green tentacles of energy wavered from the backs of their necks and into the bushes behind.

Bailey spoke first, “It’s them.”

The largest of the three let out a roaring battle cry as he and the other man ran towards Roman, the woman dodged to the side, the flames in her hands growing in intensity.

“Run!” called Bailey, but Roman couldn’t. They stood petrified as this colossus of a man stomped towards them, shuddering the ground with each step.

Bailey called again, “Roman!” But it was useless. The colossus brought his axe up, preparing to swing and-

Roman was tackled to the ground. The axe cleaved through the air, missing Roman’s head by inches. Roman looked around, Bailey lay next to them, his arms wrapped around Roman’s torso. His eyes were wide with terror, which slowly lowered to relief as they locked with Roman’s. 

Bailey sighed, but before he could say anything the other fighter charged towards them. He raised his spear and prepared to strike, but Bailey whipped out his cutlass and knocked the spear aside, spiking it into the dirt.

Roman scampered to their feet, noticing the colossus had lodged his axe into the ground and was struggling to pull it out. Bailey dueled with the spearman, deftly dodging his lunges and parrying those he couldn’t duck out of the way of. The woman’s fire had grown to an immense size, she was now holding a single flame between both her hands and was preparing to throw it towards Bailey.

It was Roman who called to Bailey this time, “Bailey! Over there!” Bailey looked up to Roman and then followed their pointing arm. He saw the huge fireball just as it was leaving the caster’s hands. He jumped away from the spearman and behind a nearby rock. The spearman stood still and emotionless as the fireball engulfed him. Roman covered their face with their hands as the heavy heat stampeded over them. They cried out as it lightly burnt their forearms.

Once the blast cleared, Roman lowered their arms. The grey figure still stood within the rubble. Roman looked over to Bailey, he was peeking over the stone and staring at the spearman in awe.

There must be something with that green magic, thought Roman. Looking once again at the tendril that went from the spearman’s neck. It still led towards those bushes. Roman ran to the rock that Bailey was still crouched behind, it seemed like the fireball had disoriented the spearman, he didn’t know where either of them had gone. 

Roman whispered, “Bailey!”

He turned, “What are you still doing here?” he said, exacerbatedly, “You need to get out! Run!”

“I can’t leave you here alone,” said Roman, “Anyway, I think I know what we need to do. We need to follow the magic that’s coming from them, maybe we can find a way to… I don’t know, turn it off?”

“Do you know how to turn magic off?”

“Not with magic, no. But we could kill it.”

Bailey shrugged, “Well it’s better than trying to kill them, did you see what that fireball did to Fabian?”

Fabian, that must be the spearman. 

“Alright, let’s g-”

A deafening roar sounded from behind them. Roman turned. The colossus stood before them, holding his axe high over his head. He brought it down. Roman and Bailey jumped in opposite directions, the axe cleaving right where Bailey was just standing. 

Bailey looked at Roman, they pointed towards the bush that the tendrils were wavering to. The two ran toward it, leaving the colossus to heave it’s axe from the ground once more. 

As they reached the bush, another fireball cracked overhead. It collided with the trees, sending them careening away. The stumps that remained began to burn, before the flames tapered themselves out magically. 

“Now what?” asked Bailey.

“I don’t know.” said Roman, “Just stab into it?”

Cutlass drawn, Bailey tiptoed up to the bush. He raised his arm to strike when something big and dark brown burst from the bush and tackled him to the ground. It was an eavener! It sat on top of Bailey, the three green tendrils leading straight into its head. The eavener raised one of its flint daggers to strike.

“No!” called Roman, running at the eavener. They tackled it off of Bailey. The eavener squirmed in Roman’s grip, slashing at their forearms with the stone blades. Roman screamed as the blades tore up their arm, like a pack of wolves tearing up fresh prey.

Then, all of a sudden, the flailing stopped. 

Roman looked up at the eavener, a sword was lodged into its chest, Bailey’s sword! Roman followed the curve of the blade and saw Bailey at the other end. He looked deeply troubled. Roman leapt up and spread his arms towards Bailey, then flinched as the movement caused a searing pain to travel up his forearms. Roman looked innocently up at him, he had already dipped back into that caring focus he had shown at Roman’s lack of water.

“Where are those roll-things you had before?” he said, quickly.

Roman slowly moved their arm to point at the pouch, careful not to bring back the stinging pain. Bailey deftly untied it from Roman’s side and opened it, pulling out one of the ji-ais. Roman opened their mouth as Bailey gently placed it onto their tongue. They bit down on it, easily piercing the wrapping to reach the chocolate inside. It sent a warm tingling through their whole body, which slowly focused and grew in their forearms. Roman looked down at their arms, watching as the flesh around the hundreds of cuts regrew and merged with what had survived the attack. The swelling, bloodied meat looked significantly more disgusting than it felt, the magic of the ji-ais actually making the feeling quite euphoric for Roman. Once the healing had completed and the warmth died down, Roman shook their arms out, returning some of the feeling they had lost in them.  

Roman suddenly realised “What about the others?”

Bailey took a sharp breath, “Oh no.”

Roman was fully expecting the colossus to burst through at that moment. But nothing happened. Now that they thought about it, they couldn’t hear the charging of magic fire either, or any noise that might have been coming from their adversaries for that matter. All they could hear was the faint tweeting of birds some distance away.

Roman turned around, looking back out over the Glade. The three figures all stood wavering across the field, standing in place like figures on a warmap. They looked to be in some sort of trance. Bailey ran over to the spellcaster, who was the nearest. 

“Merida!” he said, holding her face in his hands, “Please! Wake up! Please!”

Merida’s grey skin became flaky in Bailey’s hand. He pulled away, but the ash stuck to him. He looked at it in disbelief.

“No! This isn't- It can’t- Merida!”

Bailey tried to embrace the caster, but his hands wafted through her, scattering the ashes into the wind. Once again he looked in shock. Roman turned to watch the others. The colossus was the most intact, likely due to his size. Then a strong breeze caught his head, dispersing it just like Merida. The wind snickered as it passed through the trees.

Some horrid joke, thought Roman. 

Roman walked up beside Bailey and stood with him, the two just watched as the spearman Fabian’s legs gave out. He collapsed onto the floor, the ashes spurting out in a circle around where he fell. The unnamed colossus also fell, knocked over by the wind. His final flourish was significantly larger than Fabian’s. 

Roman wrapped an arm around Bailey, “I’m sorry.”

Bailey just stood, his eyes wide and unfocused. Roman thought they heard him mutter something. “Thank you,” perhaps. 

“We need to get out of here.” continued Roman, pulling Bailey out of his trance slightly, “There might be more eaveners on the way.”

“Yeah,” Bailey muttered, but he wasn’t walking out of the Glade. Instead he stumbled over to the pile of ash that had been Fabian. “Let me just-” with a grunt, Bailey bent over and grabbed the spear. “I need to keep these. Preserve them.” He walked over to the colossus next and heaved the axe over his shoulder. The thing dwarfed him. Roman wasn’t sure how Bailey could even carry it.

Now that Roman understood what was happening, they walked over to Merida’s ash pile. A book lay buried in it (or in her, Roman thought, grimly), Roman hadn’t seen it during the fight. They dusted the ash from its cover, revealing an old leather-bound tome. It must be her spellbook, they thought.  

Roman turned as Bailey reached them, they showed him the book. Bailey nodded weakly. 

Roman noticed that Bailey was struggling with the massive axe, “I can take the spear if you want me to,” they said.

Bailey handed them the spear, “Be careful with it,” he warned. 

“Don’t worry, I will. I can tell what these mean to you.”

“Thank you,” Bailey turned slowly towards the forest again, “We should get going. If you want to get out of the Forest of Fables fast, you need to will it to happen. Think of New Elmus, think of people there who you want to get back to. Think of happy memories, that’s what the forest likes.”

As the two began to walk arm in arm, Roman pictured their sister, her shining, blonde hair and deep brown eyes, the smile that she gave them every time they came to visit her and their parents. They hoped she would never have to see something like what happened today. 

Then they thought of Clara. They’d only gotten the one spitebark for her, but after hearing what they’d gone through, they were sure Clara would be relieved that they had made it back at all. The experimentation will have to wait.

Lastly, they thought of Bailey. Not of present Bailey - he was right beside them - but of Bailey in the future. Maybe they could find a big house in the city and live together. Maybe Roman could continue their learning under Clara and eventually be able to cook for him every day.

Roman’s visions were cut short by a clap on the back, Bailey spoke, still solemnly, but with a cockiness that reminded Roman of their initial meeting, “Nice dreaming, champ.”

Roman opened their eyes. They were already at the edge of the Forest. “Wow,” they said, “That was fast.”

Bailey smirked, “Yeah,” he said, “Yeah it was.” He looked down at Roman, “Now, let’s get me to Clara’s.”

Knock knock. Knock knock. 

The door swung open, letting the familiar scents of the cafe float up into Roman’s nose. Before Roman and Bailey stood Clara. The small woman looked up at them, smiling.

“Ah, dearie! You’re back! And I see you’ve brought a friend,” she looked quizzically up at Bailey.

“Yes ma’am,” said Roman, “This is Bailey, he helped me out while I was in the Glade.” 

The two shared a glance and smiled, their arms were still wrapped tightly around each other.

Bailey turned to Clara and spoke, “I was wondering if you could help me out with something in return.”

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