#hallariel when i catch

[your---dancestyle]

There are two wolves inside of me.

The first despises Hallariel and refuses to give her another chance at being a parent when she puts in less than the bare minimum for the child she already has.

The other knows that Fabian would be a wonderful older brother and it would bring him untold amounts of joy and happiness.

Their battle will tear me apart.

[sapphicmuppet]

choose your fighter: Fabian Seacaster daddy issues or Fabian Seacaster mommy issues

[graveyardparade]

sorry I'm aroace riz gukgak posting again... but I've been mulling over how well-founded and grounded Riz's fears are as an aroace person in a society (and I would argue, in this incredibly shipping-heavy universe itself) that is actively hostile against people like him. He sees over and over again how others prioritize and centre romantic relationships above all others in both his peers and in parental figures in that there really is no adequate model for what it means to be single and happy.

More specifically, I'm thinking back to the Nightmare Forest and what a harsh blow it is to be told that he'll never be like the parents he clearly worships -- but I think a part of him also fears winding up like Sklonda herself! For over half of Riz's life, he's only known his mother as a single parent and what it looks like to be forced into self-sufficiency esp as a racial minority, burning the candle at both ends, working her ass off, and barely able to make ends meet as it is. Sklonda is a great mother, but we know Riz was by necessity a latchkey kid and Sklonda wasn't able to hide the more difficult parts of single parenthood from him: how tired she was, how thankless the work was, and how little time she had to spend on taking care of herself when societally and financially, being a single person is hard. She had at least the memory of a great love and Riz herself to work so tirelessly for, but what does it mean to have work as your love language if there's nobody there to receive it? Yes, Sklonda probably has friends, but at the end of the day and in her dark, quiet moments, Riz has seen her left alone, failed by both fate and the structure she spent her life working for. In contrast, we see the comfort that Sandra Lynn and Jawbone live in, the cozy suburbs of the Applebees, the cheerful (and very horny) Thistlesprings, all living in the comfort of having a companion to rely on at the end of the day, or to be there to catch them when they inevitably fall.

The only structures he's seen are that which prioritizes romantic love as your true partner and your first priority, and he grew up seeing what life is like when that safety net falls away. The big difference is that the life Riz sees himself facing down in his weak moments is not life when the safety net falls away, but life when you never had that safety net to begin with. And for a kid who already spent most of his life societally ostracized, financially unstable, and alone -- that's a very, very scary thing. (editing to add, and this makes this even less coherent than it already is: there's something to Gilear's rock bottom being the exact same apartment building Riz has lived in his entire life, and Gilear's ability to pull himself out of that physical situation is solely through entering a romantic relationship with (the admittedly shitty) Hallariel. Whoof.)

[kermit-coded]

hallariel seacaster when i catch you <- with intent to kill

[goldrushzukka]

what do you mean hallariel and gilear have to catch a flight for their cruise. since when do they have air travel?? if gorgug had to build his own cell tower to call his girlfriend during sophomore year then i find it hard to believe that crystal arcano-tech has advanced enough over a single summer to have PLANES and AIRPORTS and CRUISE SHIPS

[i-m-a-weird-person]

When you think about it Fabian’s parents were kind of...shitty ?? I mean for most of his life, and especially during his formative years, his mother was drunk on elven wine or sleeping in her isolation pod all day, and all his father did was inculcate him some bullshit about viewing people as obstacles only or buyable tools or means to an end, every interactions as a duel to be won and human connections through a monetary lense, on top of setting over-the-top expectations about greatness and a narrow way of achieving it or some other bullshit

in contrast to that you got

sklonda, who tries to teach Riz ethical and healthy work-life balance even tho she seems to be struggling with that herself (to make ends meet) just so her son could finally catch some sleep and not let himself get consumed by work

Sandra Lynn who wants to try to help Fig be herself and accept herself and be a normal teen despite being a goddamn fuck up herself

The Thistlesprings tries to support Gorgug the best they can, their giant son who’s so different from them and who’s having problems they can’t begin to relate to

They all know they are *trying*, and maybe not succeeding, and most importantly they acknowledge that, thay know what they’re doing is not always working. But Bill Seacaster ? Man, if you told him he was fucking his son up, he would skewer you right in the face. He would run his saber through you like you were a goddamn shish kebab and he was the cook. Hallariel would probably dismiss you with a dazzed wave of her hand after a way too long pause because she was trying to process the words but it gave her a headache.

Yeah they both gave him a gigantic amount of affection but...affection doesn’t do everything when raising a child. It doesn’t solve all the needs of a kid. You must educate your kids to properly equip them for the world, not just love them and trust them to find their way on their own. They need comfort and guidance too.

So, yeah.

Thanks gods Cathilda was here. She really IS his surrogate mother.

[pricemarshfield]

For @adairable-dirks, Fabian & Gorgug friendship

Gorgug kind of hates Fabian’s house, a little.

It’s very big, and he doesn’t hit his head, which is very nice. But he also doesn’t hit his head at school, and school has more signs of being lived in than Fabian’s place.

They’re practicing some of Fabian’s new flourishes--multiclassing or class changes require a lot more study, something that Gorgug is discovering now that he has to play catch-up in all his artificer classes. Hallariel is giving harsh-but-helpful critiques of Fabian’s foot movements, and Gorgug is doing his best to attack without actually hurting his friend.

“Very good, Fabian,” Hallariel says after what feels like a minute and a year. Rage makes time go a little funny. “You’ve earned a full ration today.”

“What?” Gorgug says.

“Of kippers,” Fabian says. “Not of food. Don’t worry.”

“Okay,” Gorgug says. He’s not great at reading people, but Fabian’s shoulders are relaxed, even after all the combat practice, and that’s usually a good sign. He, Riz, and Ayda have talked about it.

“Gorgug, grab whatever you like,” Hallariel says. “I’m not sure what you like...?”

“Mostly normal food,” Gorgug says. “Like, ants on a log and stuff.”

“I don’t know what that is,” Hallariel says. “Bugs? I wasn’t aware that was part of gnomish cuisine in Solace?”

“No, it’s raisins, peanut butter, and celery,” Gorgug explains. He’d explained the same thing to Fabian, sure, but also to Cassandra, a few weeks ago, when they were all hanging out and their giant, star-glass eye looked in the window and went

What is that?

in a voice that boomed and soothed all at once. Kristen had been too busy listening to sad music from her crystal about Tracker to answer properly, so Gorgug had, then elaborated for Ayda, then convinced Aelwyn to try it.

“Hm,” Hallariel says. “We have cantaloupe?”

“Cantaloupe sounds nice, thank you,” Gorgug says, all in one breath, in a rush. That happens sometimes, too.

“Gorgug,” Fabian calls from down the hallway.

But anyway, Fabian’s house. It’s all plain white walls and gilded things that don’t need to be gilded and one or two pirate barrels in each room. Kristen disdainfully called it minimalism once.

“Your house is quiet,” Gorgug says.

“Is yours not?”

“No,” Gorgug says. “My parents are usually working on something or listening to music or just talking.”

“So do my mother and Gilear, it’s big enough that we have some peace,” Fabian says.

Gorgug frowns. He’s not quite explaining what he means, but now he’s not sure how to without being rude.

“It takes awhile to get to the kitchen,” Gorgug adds.

“The one con of a big house,” Fabian says. “Now, I’m not sure if we actually have any more cantaloupe, but I also know you’ll know what’s happening in the kitchen more than my mother will.”

“Aw, I like cantaloupe,” Gorgug says.

“I’ll ask Scurvy Pete about it,” Fabian says, as though that’s not a buckwild thing to say. “Are you alright? You’re not still in a rage, are you?”

“No!” Gorgug shakes his head. “I don’t know. Weird mood.”

It’s not that he hates big houses, actually. He likes Mordred Manor, and that one has cobwebs (not a big deal) and ghosts (bad, remind him of Hell) and all his friends (good, sometimes overwhelming).

This house is just boring.

“So, which fridge has the fruit?” Gorgug asks. Fabian shrugs, so Gorgug keeps opening different fridges. Juices, exorbitant amounts of yogurt, seafood... “This can’t be a healthy diet. How do you play sports?”

“I’ve never had any problems,” Fabian says. “What do you eat, steaks? I know Ragh eats steaks.”

“I mean, sometimes.”

They eat food at a solid white table with seats that aren’t quite steady under them.

“Next time, let’s practice at my place,” Gorgug says. Nailed it.

“Why?” Fabian says.

Fuck.

“My parents can help,” Gorgug says. C’mon, think, you’re not dumb, you got through the forest... “They can set up, like. Practice combat. With inventions.”

“True,” Fabian says.

“Also,” Gorgug says, because now he feels like he’s being dishonest and the guilt will eat him alive if he doesn’t admit to it immediately. “I kind of think your house is uncomfortable.”

Gorgug braces for Fabian to be upset, but he just laughs. “You, too? My mother and Gilear are moving things around. It’s strange without all of Papa’s treasure. They’re just making sure it doesn’t have dragon madness.”

“Oh,” Gorgug says. “Okay, good.”

“Besides,” Fabian says. “I’ll try the ant thing again.”

“We can make other things, Fabian.”

“No, I’ll survive.”

“Better than kippers.”

“How dare you? Out of my house, the disrespect--”

[pechebeche]

hello peach i'm sorry to bother you i just wanted to say that i loved st judas and am glad that you were able to post even part of it. it has a special place in my heart. it's okay if you don't want to answer, but i'm curious about two things:

1. who killed riz?

and more importantly

2. when they kissed for the first time... who kissed who 😳

anyway. again sorry to bother you and you don't have to respond. i hope you have a good day/evening 💞

you arent a bother at all!! much as i am just not physically capable of actually Writing Out the rest of st judas, i. still love it. and i will eagerly take any opportunity to share what my plans for it were, in hopes that it will at least provide some closure for people. <3

1. so, the big question, and bear with me here: zayne darkshadow killed riz. and also, he didn’t.

st judas, you gotta remember, was originally written to tie up s1′s loose ends. at the end of s1, the god sol was knocked out. the balance of the celestial plane was completely upset. shit kind of went off the wire for a lil bit.

for a couple of interested parties, that provided a pretty strong opportunity.

the core plot of the villains didn’t center around killing riz - it centered around fucking up the afterlife. the characters who had been canonically killed at some point - kristen and gorgug - both, you will notice, started having major issues with their abilities not long before the start of the story (kristen losing her clerical abilities, gorgug’s berserker exhaustion ability catching up to him long-term in the form of a chronic illness). one of the reveals of the next few chapters was going to be that vine, the tiefling who was at the nightclub fight, had, in fact, been dead for 10 years prior to the start of the story.

(side note - this was also why riz didn’t see anything after his death! when pok got revealed as a spy in hell in s2 you may remember me very loudly shouting abt how Now My Ideas Look Stolen Damn You. riz not seeing an afterlife was a protective measure from his dad, who was trying to figure out what was goin on from the afterlife side, and the only reason t hat riz wasnt affected by the Resurrection Curse TM. dammit brennan. it’s also why bill and hallariel were ‘alive’ and kicking.)

the major villain - the Man Behind The Man - had kind of wrestled their way into the afterlife in the brief period where sol was unconscious & aguefort wasnt doing his job for him, and had, over the next decade, slowly expanded control over the undead and recently-resurrected. the first thing they could control was ghosts.

so it was zayne’s hand that did it, but zayne wasn’t in control of his actions. in reality:

penelope everpetal killed riz.

2. riz kissed fabian!! i never wrote out the scene but i had a very strong concept for it in my head.

after fighting with aelwen and turning her to the side of good (because i was stanning aelwen redemption a year before fantasy high even announced s2 and i may not have proof of that anymore because rip my old blog but i still refuse to let it be taken from me), there was going to be a big blow-out where aelwen laid out for fabian why it’s fucked up that he made decision based on what he thought was best for her without asking her.

for aelwen, who was used as a pawn for her entire life, it was an especially sore subject. it was meant, dually, to be an expansion of aelwen’s character from the s1/critique of the heavy comphet themes that went into fabian/aelwen at the end of the season - the idea of aelwen as a Thing That Fabian Needs To Save instead of as a person capable of making her own choices - and as a parallel to the way that fabian had abandoned riz for what he thought was his own good and ended up essentially ruining his life for a good while there.

the idea was that riz would go to fabian to comfort him after he and aelwen had that argument. st judas was always a lot of a story abt fabian overcoming those toxic ideas (another thing s2 ended up taking care of), and i do think he would listen to aelwen - and make the connection to how he had treated riz. and the idea is that he would be fumbling through understanding himself, and learning, and trying to apologize

and by the end of the conversation, riz, who has been (rightfully!) angry for so long, and still distant even now, and has been hurt and scarred by fabian and for fabian and unrelated to fabian - i think, when he sees fabian trying, in earnest, to do better for riz, when fabian says, “i did what i thought you wanted, but i didn’t know. so what do you want?” and what do you want, riz gukgak?

“this,” riz says, and kisses fabian on the mouth.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Talk

Prompt: Hi are you still doing Merlin prompts? If so, I’d love to see some bonding with Gwaine and Arthur? You write amazingly and I know you usually focus on Merlin, but I’d love to see those two learn to get along. Maybe they’re on a duo quest to find Merlin and slowly grow together over it? Thank you and no pressure if you’d prefer not to write it!

Thanks for the prompt!

Read on Ao3

Warnings: None

Pairings: none, although you can read it as whatever you’d like, Merthur, Gwaine/Merlin, don’t mind 

Word Count: 2876

Arthur’s not exactly sure why Merlin has a habit of disappearing during the day, but he does know the tavern bill isn’t nearly as high as it should be if that’s where Merlin was always going. Gaius may always say—well, not say, more like heavily imply until Arthur puts that together for himself—that Merlin’s there, but Arthur knows better.

Which means Merlin’s just flat-out missing.

Great.

“Arthur,” Guinevere calls as she hustles down the steps, “you’re not going alone, are you?”

“If that’s what it takes, then I will.”

“But you know you can’t go alone, what if you—“

“Guinevere,” Arthur says gently, stepping back to cup her hands in his, “you know I have to go.”

“I’m not saying you can’t, I’m saying you should bring someone with you.”

“He’s not going alone,” calls another voice.

They both look around to see Gwaine already mounted, riding into the square. He tips Guinevere a deep nod and raises an eyebrow at Arthur.

“Well? You going to get your royal arse onto the horse or not?”

Arthur rolls his eyes. “I’ll be back.”

“You’d better.”

“About time,” Gwaine calls cheerfully as they start out of the gate, “you’d think you’d show a little more enthusiasm.”

“We’re here to find Merlin,” Arthur says as firmly as he can, “so let’s get started.”

He urges Hallariel into a gallop, racing through the fields until they reach the deeper woods. To his dismay, Gwaine easily keeps pace. If anything, the knight looks more comfortable on the horse than Arthur feels. He grits his teeth and keeps on.

The forest is empty, no sign of Merlin. They ride on. Gwaine is surprisingly quiet as they search, finally noticing a scrap of Merlin’s neck kerchief heading south.

They slow, giving the horses a break, until Gwaine digs out a scrap of the dries meat and tears into it.

Arthur rolls his eyes. “Can’t wait until we’re stopped, can you?”

Gwaine shrugs. “‘M hungry. Aren’t you?”

Arthur is, but he’ll be damned if he’s just going to tell Gwaine that.

“Look, you wanna sit there and not eat, that’s fine with me.”

“Given how much you eat, I’m surprised you still get hungry.”

“Well, when you’re not sure how long you’ll have food or when you’ll get it next, you eat when you’re hungry.”

The blasé way Gwaine says it gives Arthur pause. He twists around to see Gwaine still eating, glancing around to find more trace of Merlin. He looks at the knight.

Gwaine is strong, not as strong as Percival—though who is?—but a strong knight. He sits a horse well, he fights with great skill, and he’s incredibly adept at handling himself.

He catches Arthur looking and raises an eyebrow. “Something wrong?”

Arthur blinks and shakes his head.

“There’s a tavern not too far from here. We can stay the night there.”

“Don’t want to camp out in the woods?”

“You can afford it.”

The tavern is small. Modest, even. The innkeeper smiles wide when they come in the door, respectfully asking to stay the night. She bows low and shows them to their rooms, telling them when dinner will be served and that if they need anything, absolutely anything, not to hesitate to ask.

“Just make sure you’ve plenty of food,” Arthur warns with a smile, “my friend here has quite the appetite.”

She smiles and leaves. Arthur turns around to see Gwaine turning the scrap of fabric over and over in his fingers.

“You alright?”

“Never better,” Gwaine says cheerfully—too cheerfully—as he stows the fabric away, “you have a plan on where to head next?”

“There’s another pass further south,” Arthur says, still frowning a little, “we can ask if anyone’s seen him heading there.”

“Merlin didn’t say anything, by any chance, did he?”

“No.”

Gwaine hums thoughtfully. “And you haven’t been…talking or worrying about anything with him, have you?”

Arthur glares. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Have you?”

“I don’t see why it’s any of your business what I talk about with Merlin.”

“Given he’s missing and you’re the one he talks the most to, I think it is.”

“I think you should trust my judgment,” Arthur says firmly, “and that I shall choose what to share appropriately.”

Something flickers across Gwaine’s face too quickly for Arthur to name. The knight smiles and claps him on the shoulder. “Let’s see what’s for dinner here, shall we?”

They sit downstairs as the innkeeper bustles back over with their food. She bobbles a curtsy and goes to the other guests. As Arthur glances around the mostly full room, he sees the amount of food on their plates is significantly more than the food on the others.

Gwaine, of course, is already eating, although he sees the knight perform the same glance. Within no time, their plates are empty, Arthur’s belly pleasantly full.

“How was it,” the innkeeper asks anxiously, worrying her hands into her apron, “was it to your liking, m’lords?”

“It was wonderful, Hilda,” Gwaine says before Arthur can say anything, “and I couldn’t eat another bite.”

Arthur frowns at him as Hilda pays him no mind.

“Oh, well, thank you, m’lord, I can only hope the rest of my cooking will be good enough.”

“I’m sure it will be.” Gwaine smiles and takes two gold coins out of his purse. “For your troubles.”

“Oh, m’lord, I can’t accept this, it’s too much! And the food is already included with your room and board, m’lord, I—“

“Please.” He puts the money into her hands. “Allow me.”

“Thank you, m’lord, I—thank you.”

She bows and hurries away.

Gwaine turns to Arthur. “You planning on catching flies like that?”

“What the bloody hell was that?”

“It’s called ‘paying,’ Princess, surely you’re familiar.”

“But you—you’re—the food—“

“Was excellent,” Gwaine says firmly with a tone that reminds him vaguely of Merlin, “and very generous.”

“What is going on,” Arthur hisses, “and what game are you playing?”

Gwaine raises an eyebrow. “You want to have this conversation here?”

With a tact that Gwaine does not employ often, let alone any time Arthur’s actually seen, the knight moves them back upstairs to their beds. He takes a seat as Arthur starts to pace.

“What’s got your pretty little head so worried?”

“You’ve never turned down more food as long as I’ve known you. And you certainly haven’t voluntarily paid for it.”

“Camelot is a kingdom that has more food than any one person could hope to eat,” Gwaine replies, propping his hand up on his knee, “and it comes from the castle kitchens. This place is an inn, run by the people, for the people, with none of the luxuries of Camelot’s heart.”

Gwaine motions around. “These people do their best. Their best should be rewarded, shouldn’t it?”

Arthur stares hard at Gwaine.

Gwaine meets his gaze easily, raising his eyebrow. “You don’t actually think all this is as easy as everyone makes it out to be, do you?”

“What?”

“You’ve never farmed,” Gwaine says, “never known the fear of what happens if your harvest goes bad. You have the security of the castle, of the city. These people don’t. And you’ve never had to worry about coin in your pretty little life.”

And here’s the thing, Arthur knows that. He knows he doesn’t know a lot about what life is like for the people he rules. He knows that.

But he doesn’t know that.

Gwaine seems to take his silence as whatever answer he’s looking for. The knight turns on his side and starts to take his heavy armor off.

“Merlin’s heading south, you think?”

Arthur nods. “I’m not sure what else is out that way. This is probably the last town we’ll come across for a while.”

“Then it’s a good thing we stopped, isn’t it?”

“…yes, I suppose it is.”

Gwaine falls asleep quickly. Arthur stays awake a little longer, looking at the ceiling.

Huh.

In the morning, Gwaine gives the innkeeper another few gold coins after breakfast, as does Arthur. They both insist she takes them, that their stay has been truly lovely. They ask if anyone’s seen Merlin, a skinny, dark-haired man heading through here.

“Aye,” an older man speaks up, “I seen him. Heading toward the pass, he was, said something about a cave system.”

“Cave system?” Gwaine glances at Arthur. “Rung any bells?”

Arthur pays the man for the information and saddles up before Gwaine can ask any more questions. It lasts until the tavern is out of sight.

“Alright,” Gwaine says without any preamble, “now tell me.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“Bollocks. Your pretty pampered face went two shades whiter when that man said something about the caves. Now tell me what’s happened with Merlin.”

“It’s none of your concern.”

“Unless it’s very much escaped your notice, Sire, I’m out here looking for my friend. Not your servant, not a servant of Camelot, Merlin,” Gwaine says in a low, dangerous voice, “and if you do not tell me the truth, I will be performing the rest of this search myself.”

It takes Arthur aback, that’s for sure. He looks at Gwaine, who looks as serious as Arthur’s ever seen him, and pulls Hallariel to a halt.

“Threatening a king is treason, Sir Gwaine.”

“Withholding information is worse.”

“I thought I asked you to trust me.”

Gwaine stares down at Arthur. It’s funny, he never noticed that Gwaine is…taller.

“You really don’t know a damn thing,” Gwaine growls, “do you?”

Before Arthur can answer, Gwaine wheels his horse around and starts moving toward the pass again. Arthur has to urge Hallariel to a trot to keep up. For the next few hours, they don’t speak. The tense silence feels like a weight on Arthur’s armor.

He knows Gwaine and Merlin are close. He knows Gwaine cares for Merlin.

What he doesn’t understand is this.

If…if Gwaine cares for Merlin, then he must want Merlin found, right? If Arthur knows how to find him, he has to trust Arthur, right?

Then why isn’t he doing that?

“Here.” Gwaine swings off his horse and ties it to the stump he lands on. “We’ll camp here.”

Arthur wants to say that he’s the king, thank you very much, so he’ll decide where they stay, but he doesn’t.

“I’ll collect the firewood.”

“Since when do you know how to collect firewood?” And Gwaine’s gone.

Well, he has a point.

Arthur gets their bedrolls set up instead and digs a fire pit. By the time Gwaine gets back, everything’s ready except for the food. Gain sets the wire and proceeds his flint and steel. The fire lights. It’s not as warm as it should be.

They sit in silence.

“…how did you learn how to do all this,” Arthur says quietly after a while, “if you grew up as a noble?”

Gwaine stiffens. “Who told you that?”

“I know you fake it,” Arthur says, “how clumsy you make yourself out to be. But you fight like a noble.”

“What’s that mean?”

Arthur allows himself a small smile. “Like you’ve been trained by someone who’s not cheap.”

It makes Gwaine snort, at any rate. The camp lapses back into silence, but it’s not as heavy as before.

“Nobles are,” Gwaine starts, “an interesting group of people. All talk, most of the time, when they remember how.”

Arthur stays quiet.

“They don’t understand things,” Gwaine continues, his voice growing heavy, “they don’t see things as well as they should. And people get hurt because of that.”

That Arthur knows all too well.

“The common people are the ones who suffer when the lords play their games,” Gwaine says, “they lie and they scheme and they grab for power and they forget why they’re supposed to have it in the first place.”

“To care for the people,” Arthur says quietly, “and so what they can’t do for themselves.”

Gwaine looks at him. In the flickering light, Gwaine looks—well, he looks like he suits the fine robes as well as Arthur.

“I was never very good at their games,” he settles on finally, “but I was good at people. So I left.”

“And you became one of them.”

“Put your faith in systems and you’ll always end up disappointed. Put it in people and you’ll always be surprised.”

“The world isn’t that…easy,” Arthur decides on eventually, “it’s not designed to be.”

“No.” Gwaine looks back into the fire. “I’m sure you’ve been told that, right? That most people will never make a difference, no matter how hard they try? That the world’s just too big?”

“My father—“ Gwaine makes a noise— “he always demanded that we keep the systems intact, that it was the best course of action, that change would be worse.”

“Do you believe him?”

“Not anymore.”

Gwaine sits back. “It’s true to a certain extent, I suppose. That most people won’t ever make a big enough difference.”

“Gwaine—“

“Come on,” Gwaine says with a smile, a sad smile, “you know that. Hilda back there, for example, you can’t tell me that she’ll change the world, can you?”

“…no.”

“But,” Gwaine says, “because we gave her those coins, she can have her inn fixed up. So she can host more guests and take care of her daughter. Then maybe her daughter won’t have to get married young and sell the inn.”

Arthur’s head tilts.

“They may never change the world,” Gwaine says, “but it makes a difference for them.”

Oh.

Oh.

“Thank you,” Arthur murmurs, “thank you, Gwaine.”

Gwaine waves him off. “Merlin’s not here to beat things into your head, guess someone has to.”

Arthur huffs. “You’re here for Merlin, aren’t you?”

“What, here in this forest or as a knight of Camelot?”

“Both?”

“Both,” Gwaine nods, fixing Arthur with a look, “is that a problem?”

Is it?

“Considering I’m in a very similar position,” Arthur admits, with far more honesty than he’d like, “no, not at all.”

Gwaine raises his water skin. Arthur raises his. They toast to Merlin.

“Let’s get some sleep,” Gwaine says after they’ve eaten their fill, “the next day’s a hard ride.”

“Is that near where the caves are?”

“It should be.” As they bed down for the night, Gwaine looks at him. “Will you tell me where we’re going tomorrow?”

“Yes, I will.”

“Good.”

The morning is cool. A light mist settles over the air as they mount up and get rid of the camp. Gwaine rides in front, pointing out the tricky parts and slopes as they pick their way toward the pass.

“So,” he calls over his shoulder, “what are we looking for?”

“There’s a cave,” Arthur says, “of legend. Rumor has it that when the moon turns dark and the rivers run dry, something happens.”

“Sounds maudlin.”

“You’re telling me.”

“So why’s Merlin out here?”

“Remember when the wells all stopped working?”

“A week before we left?”

“Merlin came to me that morning, worried.”

Gwaine’s shoulders tense. “Was he alright?”

“Physically,” Arthur says, “I couldn’t find any injuries, but he—he seemed anxious.”

Gwaine snorts. “Merlin’s anxious a lot. Bears listening to.”

“Which is why I asked.”

The next question is colored with something that might be approval. “What’d he tell you?”

“What I just told you about the cave. Said it merited looking into.”

“Were you planning on it?”

“Yes.” Gwaine twists around. “I was!”

“Then why is Merlin out here alone?”

“Because the idiot decided to run off in the middle of the night instead of waiting for me.”

Gwaine chuckles as he turns back around. “Yep, that sounds like Merlin.”

“He’s going to get himself killed doing that one day,” Arthur grumbles, mostly to himself, “if he keeps waltzing off with no armor and no one to protect him.”

“Well, then it’s a good thing he’s got us, isn’t it?”

“…yes, yes it is.”

“I’ll tell you,” Gwaine says as they round the corner to the pass, “I’m tempted to tell him off when we do find him.”

“You’ll have to get in line.”

“You think you can beat me, Princess?”

“I think you’re going to try and beat me.”

“You’re on.”

Merlin, when they finally find him, walking out of a cave with a suspicious singe to his tunic, just looks like a confused doe when Gwaine and Arthur start scolding him like two parents. And if he’s even more confused when the two of them seem to get along on the way back—with Merlin riding in the middle of them, thank you very much, you’re not vanishing on us again, Merlin—then he keeps his questions to himself until they’re back in Camelot.

And if Arthur starts going to the tavern, well…

Now he’s really curious where Merlin’s going, because he’s sure as hell not here.

[squidbatts]

i'm not just a boy (i'm a-)

Your name is Fabian Aramais Seacaster, son of Bill and Hallariel Seacaster, grandson of Telemien Lomenelda, co-leader of the Bad Kids, captain of the Aguefort Owlbears, Master of the Hangman, conqueror of Kalvaxis.

or: of fear, duskmoss, and the forest of the nightmare king

((happy fh day, i wrote this while i was crying watching the episode so it Is canon divergent, but i related to fabian’s fears a bit too much to Not write about it))

{ao3}

Your name is Fabian Aramais Seacaster, son of Bill and Hallariel Seacaster, grandson of Telemien Lomenelda, co-leader of the Bad Kids, captain of the Aguefort Owlbears, master of the Hangman, conqueror of Kalvaxis.

You take a deep breath as Gorgug lights up the duskmoss, burying your want to chase after Riz because you think that this is the point of the forest, that this is what’s supposed to happen; it scares you, one of your crew running into the forest alone, even more than it scared you when Ragh disappeared. You think that worrying about Riz or Gorgug or Fig or Adaine or Kristen more than your other friends, the hirelings that you dragged on this quest with you, might make you a bad person. You can’t particularly find it in yourself to care.

You feel the smoke settle in your lungs, the fullness of it filling your chest. You hold it in, closing your eyes almost reflexively as it burns in your throat. Something inside you, base and afraid, remembers dragon fire on prom night, the feel of Adaine shaking against your back as you try to outrun Him on the Hangman. You shake the thoughts out of your head and breathe out.

Your name is Fabian Aramais Seacaster, son of Bill and Hallariel Seacaster, grandson of Telemien Lomenelda, co-leader of the Bad Kids, captain of the Aguefort Owlbears, Master of the Hangman.

You take another breath in, looking at your friends around you. Their presence is comforting, even though you can nearly feel the air between you all thrumming with nerves.

This summer, when Fig and Gorgug were on tour and Riz was doing detective stuff with the Elmville police and Adaine was working through things with Jawbone, you spent a lot of time alone, and then, a lot of time with the Hangman. You rode around on him to get information about Aelwen and to set up a crew, obviously, but even besides that, there was a lot of free time that led to you jumping on him and going. Going to half-pipes and highways, to bank around sharp corners and through narrow alleyways, to feel the wind on your face as you let your motorcycle run wild; going fast enough that your loneliness and your stress and your worries about your papa couldn’t catch you.

It was a summer of only you, escaping with the Hangman every second that you weren’t training with your mama. Just a fighter and his demonic mount.

You think, as you breathe out, that it suited you, honestly. You still would rather not be alone. 

Your name is Fabian Aramais Seacaster, son of Bill and Hallariel Seacaster, grandson of Telemien Lomenelda, co-leader of the Bad Kids, captain of the Augefort Owlbears.

Ragh calls you “his QB” sometimes.

You know that’s what he called Dayne, you heard him yell it in the halls often enough to recognize it. You also know that it should unsettle you, that you should ask Ragh to stop or remind him that Dayne fucking Blayde was a douchebag and that you deserve your own moniker, unsullied by having belonged to him as well. You hope that you’re not becoming like Dayne, apathetic and cruel in turns, making people around you hide themselves in order to avoid your ire. It’s a terrifying idea, to become a nightmare creature with blank scarecrow eyes and a cold, shriveled heart.

Still, there’s something about Ragh being so excited that makes you keep all these worries deep inside.

You take a deep breath, feeling your ribs move as your lungs expand. You know that you’ll let Ragh keep calling you his.

Your name is Fabian Aramais Seacaster, son of Bill and Hallariel Seacaster, grandson of Telemien Lomenelda, co-leader of the Bad Kids.

You’re not the boss of the Bad Kids. You're all "co-leaders," really, and you make decisions together, for the best of the group. It works best this way, you think. The Bad Kids, your friends, aren’t afraid of you like your papa’s crew was afraid of him, not even a bit. You inhale and remember toddling around the original Hangman, a tiny half-elf with a too-big sword and a sharp need to be great enough for his papa’s legend. The crew smiled after you, but none of them ever got too close for fear of your papa’s mercurial moods.

It was a weird childhood, being the only kid on a ship of pirates, surrounded only by potential playmates that were decades older than you and the unforgiving sea.

In retrospect, you decide that you don’t like to think about it, actually. The past is best left in the past, isn't it?

Fig looks at all of you with dilated pupils and says that she’s going to cast a spell, a third-level Fear to help you all reach the center of the forest just a bit faster. Your hand shakes as you take off your father’s eyepatch and purposefully fail your saving throw. You exhale. You trust the rest of the Bad Kids implicitly.

Your name is Fabian Aramais Seacaster, son of Bill and Hallariel Seacaster, grandson of Telemien Lomenelda.

William Seacaster didn’t have any parents.

Or, well, that’s not true, you know that’s not true, because surely he had someone once upon a time, but your father never talked about his own parents.

In the distance, what feels like miles away, Gorgug says something about being afraid and coming for Kristen. You chant along, barely registering the words that you’re saying as you think about how your mama didn’t ever talk about her family either, really, besides one day when she looked at you, eyes strangely clear even as she took a deep gulp of her wine, and said “My father would love to meet you.”

She never introduced you to him back then, landlocked as the forests of the Lomenelda are; the Hangman went many places in your youth, but the Seacaster family wandered only the seas of Spyre, your ship going where the tide and the whispers of riches took you. Once, you thought you saw your mama twisting and twirling on the deck, spinning herself into a tornado under the pale light of the moon. Her hands opened and closed, clutching for something beyond the reach of even a woman as well connected as the beloved wife of the feared pirate Bill Seacaster. You feel like you were never meant to see her like that, but you still can’t keep the image out of your head in quiet, dark moments.

Your name is Fabian Aramais Seacaster, son of Bill and Hallariel Seacaster.

Your parents love you.

You’re certain of that, you know that they’ve said it, that you’re their darling boy, that your mama is trying and your papa is dead and your mom is-

Wait. That’s not right.

Your mama is trying, your papa is dead, and Cathilda has always been there for you. Cathilda will always be there for you. You have a father and a mother and a Maid, that’s more than enough, as long as you have them. None of them are in this forest, confusing and dark, with you, though.

You take a deep breath in, the woodsy air filling your body. You look down at yourself, how you fade in and out of visibility. You watch as Adaine disappears between one blink and the next, as Fig tells Gorgug, “We need to find Adaine and Riz and Kristen” and doesn’t mention you at all.

When your hand goes through Gorgug’s shoulder, it’s almost a relief.

Your name is Fabian Aramais Seacaster.

You- You have a family. You have friends. You’re pretty sure that both of these statements are true.

You go to school, probably, unless… unless you live in this forest, in this grim place. You can’t imagine that there’s a school in here and, if you live here, then you must not go to school. Something, in the back of your mind, says that you don’t belong here, but you can’t remember anything before this, so you’re fairly certain that this is your world: you and the grass and the trees, you and the forest, you and nothing.

You take a seat on the cold ground as the world spins around you. You don’t think that the grass even bends against your weight.

Your name is…

Uh.

You know this. This is an easy one. Your name is...

It’s-

Fuck.

You’re-

You're... scared. It comes on you, suddenly, between one breath and the next, and you are so, so scared, more afraid than you ever have been. You don’t really remember being afraid, before, but you know this fear that holds tight to something in your chest is worse than anything you’ve ever felt before, and you hate it. You don’t know why and you don’t know how to stop it. You only know that it’s awful, terrible, and that you must feel it.

You are in a forest. The light is dim and the edges of the path are blurred by overgrown plants. You do not know your own name. You think you must have a name; everyone does, you know that at least.

You are sure you have a name.

You’re also sure, as you look at the blurred and pale outline of your own form, it probably doesn’t matter much anymore, to anyone.

[your---dancestyle]

I'm not opposed to a Gileariel baby on the grounds of it being weird or sad for Fabian, but on the grounds of Hallariel being a truly terrible mother. She doesn't get to just start over and try again and have a kid that she'll actually invest in because it will live as long as her.

[your---dancestyle]

Kicking my feet giddying with anticipation for the minute Hallariel comes back to her house in shambles!!!! You shoulda been more clear telling Fabian not to have parties! This is a community home now lady, get with it or get out!