#he loves the silly little dwarf man I made so bloody much

[invinciblerodent]

Yeah, I didn't end up making much of an actual point in this (don't drink and post kids)- I was gonna say something about how reflective this is of the conditional, transactional nature of the affection he had received before now (from Mystra primarily, whom I'd like to beat to death with a steel chair), but I think I whizzed right by that.

Anyway, gifted kid experiences romantic love that's not tied to his power and performance for the first time; is genuinely shocked about it, I relate on a visceral level.

I love Gale's "With you, I forget my goddess" as much as the next person, but my favorite line in this whole scene is the one that breaks my heart into one million tiny little pieces, and that's "You would really prefer me as I am?"

The disbelief in his voice. That pained desperation to make you understand what he's trying to say. He can't believe that you'd really prefer him, the him that he is, with his... mortality, moral failings, jealousy, occasional arrogance, all his limitations and flaws? And you would. You DO. You'll say it as many times as it takes.

And yet, despite being explicitly told that you think him perfectly deserving of you and all that your relationship is, that he is enough and that you love the man he is rather than the power he commands, Gale... really just can't seem to believe it. Throughout the entire romance (so far, I honestly don't know), he' really can't seem to believe his luck. He's just so hung up on this feeling of being undeserving of happiness, of forgiveness, acceptance, and of love.

JUST LOOK AT HIM!!!!!!!!!

LOOK AT HIM!!!!!!!!

That fondness! Devotion! Doubt! Anxiety and relief all in one! He's been knocked speechless, he looks like he's exactly one second from crying, and all he's been told is literally just that you don't need him to be a god, he can just be himself, because you, his lover (of several weeks, maybe even months at this point) already loves him! As he has been told already!!!!!!

God, I can't get over just how much this man cares about this... weird, arbitrary notion he has in his pretty skull that a person is capable of being somehow more, or less deserving of being loved, rather than simply having inherent value.

Or, actually, I just can't get over this man, period.

I may not be entirely sober tonight, but I'm feeling all of the feelings about this goddamn handsome bunch of emotional issues pixels.

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Black - Chapter 7

Yes, I still am not done with this irregular, random, weird travel blog...

Fandom: the Hobbit

Characters : Thorin x OC, many others

Setting: Before the unexpected journey lol

Rating : Mature (not yet...still...but a little)

Warnings: none, it's just light-hearted silliness

It's a longish chapter (around 4k words...sorry)

“All is well, Master Dwalin. Do not distress yourself!” She called out to the vision of prowess stomping towards her.

She would not necessarily be welcome here, she knew, but it made her feel safer already to know that, at the very least, they would not have looked on as she was raped and murdered by some stranger.

“The lass has chased away a grown man with a tree branch. Aye, she might be well assorted to Oakenshield.” Balin laughed, carrying the infant easily back to the settlement. She remembered the impossible weight in her arms, pushing down on her bones and compressing her flesh, and she was amazed at the strength of these beings.

“May I borrow a knife?” She asked the two warriors who were apparently waiting for her to take her back into the confines of the settlement, Thorin looking positively eager to take her to safety and slightly annoyed at the delay.

Dwalin handed her a small blade and she knelt again, opening a small wound in her forearm and sticking the bloodied knife-edge into the ground. It was a hungry earth, she knew for she felt its thirst, and old nan had told her that dung and blood fertilised the soil best.

“What are you doing, lass?” Dwalin approached, cautiously, suspicious of an obviously insane woman with a knife. “Gardening, Master Dwalin, gardening.” She replied with a small chuckle. Maybe, she could get some seeds out of those vegetables she had bought. When dawn broke, she would inspect the wilderness around the Mountains in search of herbs and fruits she could use for her other, meagre talents in hopes that she could be of service in any other way.

“Mistress? Mother asks what is to be done about the food you have brought…” The blonde kid came up to them, exclaiming: “Oi, mistress, you’re hurt!” and offering a rather dubious handkerchief right away.

“Oh, no, I’m fine.” She looked to Thorin, seeking his help in explaining. “She does things differently.” Thorin said tonelessly but inclined his head at her to get her to answer the original question of his nephew.

“Come, Mistress, you must be cold. Really, uncle, to have that poor woman sitting on the cold ground.” Fíli seemed outraged and dragged her away towards the settlement, shaking his head at an equally indignant Thorin.

“So…about that food.” The young man asked again, pointing at the cart nobody had touched hitherto. “It was a gift…”

Thorin had said it would be welcome, but maybe they distrusted her that much? “I have purchased it from a merchant from the Shire and Thorin has been there all the time, I have…there is…it’s good.” She stammered, biting her lip, she had never been so far from home and comfort; she felt painfully outmatched by all these gloriously self-possessed people around her.

“Oh yes, nobody said there was anything wrong with it. No…but it’s yours, Mistress. Uncle said you’ve bought it.” Fíli replied gently, steering her to a nearby bench and twisting his moustache. Evidently, he was trying on the role he would have to fill sooner or later; she hoped it would be later, much later, for she could not even envision the death of one Thorin Oakenshield.

The very man approached and lifted his hands when she wanted to defer that decision to him. “You bought it with your past, woman, you decide of its future.” He declared and waited.

“What are you talking about, Master Dwarf?” She mumbled, waving at the cart and the foodstuffs within. “These are offerings to the venerable royal family and their people.” She spoke to the young prince, handing him what little was left of her savings.

“Woman, did you just hand him your money?” Thorin roared. “Yes, Master Thorin, didn’t you?”

“That’s not the same thing.” He protested. “I am not a kept woman, Master Thorin, and I am not your guest. Your people cannot bear another idle mouth to feed, another idle body to warm, isn’t that the truth you tried to hide from me?”

He retreated one step, startled by her candid words. “That first night, you took me in, you gave me food.” He murmured.

“And I will continue to do so, Master, I will forage and hunt, I’m used to walking to markets to sell my wares and I shall go on doing just that. I have survived on my own for a long time and I don’t need anyone to take care of me.”

Her pride shone bright in that second as she went toe-to-toe with a king, with a man she respected, with a person she venerated for his kindness and generosity. “I want you to be my guest.” He said, just a tiny bit petulant.

“And I’m telling you that I don’t want to be your guest. You are my master…and my friend. Have I ever offered you less than my service?” She barked back, proud and strong, standing in the middle of the courtyard with her cart.

“I have made a vow, Thorin-king, I have promised hard work and humility to purge the sins of my forefathers. Have you forgotten about that? I shall not renounce my promise to the creator.” She went on, softer.

“You are delivered. Men don’t work for the likes of me.” Thorin retorted, with deceiving calm.

“I am not a man though, am I? All kinds of people work for their king if their king works for them, and women have worked for a man since the beginning of time.” She smiled. “I am not a slaver!” He exploded.

“They are not your people.” As soon as he saw her face fall, he knew that he had gone too far, that his words and his pitiful mastery of them had failed him; like wild horses, they had run off and trampled someone he cared for.

“Thorin!” The princess, beautiful and wreathed in flames of just anger, stormed into the yard and let both her palms clash heavily onto his broad chest.

“Do not listen to him, he did not mean it the way he’s spoken it; Thorin has ever been a mulish, overly proud, misspeaking fool.” She whispered to the frail creature huddled in her hurt as a babe in a blanket.

“It runs in the family.” Thorin hissed and earned another withering, punitive stare from his sister.

“Your gifts are very welcome. What he means to say is that we do not want to be seen as the kind of people who take advantage of the…goodwill of a gentle maiden such as you. We are said to be ruthless and greedy.” Her eyes went dark with sadness. “There are things that may point into that direction. If you were to sacrifice that tender life of yours in service to a…homeless people, it would shame us.” Her royal hand rested heavy and solid on the frail and shivering one.

“I would be part of a great destiny, of retribution, of redemption, if you permit, Milady.” She whispered, begging under her breath. “Such faith have you in a king without a crown, without a realm, without an army?” The princess was surprised.

“Such faith have I in the person who’s led me out of misery and through peril to a safe haven, yes.” She replied firmly.

“Harbul…” Thorin sighed, much to the dismay of his sister and the onlookers. He had called her “mudlike”, which was in itself not a compliment, but when she looked up to question him on his choice of name, he smiled: “Creature of mud, creature of soil, fertile daughter of water and earth.”

She bowed to him, accepting “mud” as her name, as her epithet, as her identity, amongst those strange people who were so private with their own names. Her previous name was strange and outlandish to them, so she encouraged the outraged crowd to address her by a word of their own language.

They were so proud of their heritage that it was unimaginable to them to feel honoured to be given another name in a foreign language, but she hoped that at least Thorin would understand. “I am sorry.” He murmured as he took her arm to go into the dining hall, small and cramped as it might be. So, he did not understand.

“If I had been less hasty, if my words had been less careless, please believe me that I’d have bestowed a name worthy of your courage and your loyalty upon you. I’d have praised your beauty and your good heart rather than harp on your own erroneous vision of yourself. I am truly sorry.” He whispered into her ear, while his sister still looked at him as if he had crawled out under a rock.

“Don’t…I love it.” She beamed up at him, trying out her own name tentatively. “I feel like I’ve arrived.”

“From dust to mud? I don’t want that, I don’t want you to stay a slave to ghosts forever.” He sounded exasperated by her meekness. “Some of us are born for greatness, harbingers of momentous change and icons of a bright future, Master Dwarf. You are more than just a man, you’re a promise, you’re an oath, you’re the physical embodiment of an excellence spanning centuries and millennia…and some of us…are not.”

“Arzâm, that’s what I should have named you.” He groaned. “Woman, growled impatiently, has worked perfectly for us this far, no?” She grinned, then, overcome with curiosity, she asked: “What does it mean then?”

“It means “faith”; despite everything you say about yourself, it is what I think of first when I think of you.”

“And do you think of me often?” She laughed. “Yes.” He gave back in a serious, ponderous tone.

“Then I shall accept that name as well. Faith, it suits me well.” She was still smiling, shedding her old skin and everything she had been born into with an easy shrug that confused and amazed Thorin.

At the closed door though, she hesitated, then stopped completely.

“I…Should I go in there? I can eat out here.” The woman henceforth and forevermore known as Faith offered.

“You are not a dog, woman, come in. There are still dwarrows who want to meet you…and they’re pushing against this very door from the wrong side.” With an impatient call through the wooden partition inviting unseen people to please clear the doors, Thorin gave it a hearty shove.

Excited murmurs and threatening growls erupted in a sound like waves crashing onto the shore.

“I am unwelcome.” She whispered, biting her lip to keep her calm while Thorin moved with impervious determination through the throng of people towards a table where his nephews were already seated.

“Let me leave, Master Thorin, I beg you.” His hand only tightened around her arm as he pushed her forward, feeling miserable because he was treating her like a prisoner now, but she would not just scurry away to eat scraps of the food she had bought herself. “Don’t be afraid; these are the sounds living, breathing beings make…Okay, dwarrows might be a little louder than the fine people you’ve grown up with, but…” He gave her a crooked smile.

It was true; she was overwhelmed with the sheer volume of the cacophony of life around her. After years of wandering in an endless, wooded tomb, she had almost forgotten what vivacity sounded like.

“If you go any slower, uncle, she’ll be dead of starvation before you make it to the table. We’ve all seen the beautiful maid you’ve brought along with you, now make haste, we want to eat.” The younger one of the nephews called out and ducked behind his brother to avoid Thorin’s glaring look. Only, he had not minded his own mother who gave him a sharp rap on the head that might have broken Faith’s neck from the look of his head flying forward and almost knocking over a pitcher.

“Friends, kinsmen, join me in welcoming Mistress Faith who not only has provided this dinner, but, as I am told, has also chased away a potential intruder AND tried to hold a pebble.” Dís announced, apparently silently agreeing with her son’s assessment that Thorin’s dignified and regal entrance was basically just annoying and boring.

General laughter from the surrounding crowd made Faith look around in wonderment and interest. “Why is that funny? That infant was adorable, why wouldn’t I try to hold it?” She looked up at Thorin questioningly. “They’re heavy and notoriously difficult. Your new friend here was a terror.” He grinned as they reached the table, nodding at his sister.

“I was absolutely nothing of the sort; I was a proper angel compared to my older brother.” She spat back and, for a moment, Faith thought that she would stick out her tongue in defiance.

“Fíli was a fussy baby, but Kíli was not all that difficult.” Dís informed her as she pushed the woman down on a chair with a force that made her bones creak. “They must have been so adorable.” Faith sighed under her breath.

“They were okay.” Thorin grumbled, but his eyes were warm. She remembered the stories he had told her on the road about their first weapons and their first ponies; she had traded him old women’s tales for recollections of his beloved family and so she knew that he loved those rambunctious boys more than his own life.

“Also, that baby was not difficult at all.” She turned back to Thorin. “It tried to scalp you!” He exclaimed. “Nonsense, it merely played with my hair…It was charmed to find someone who let it touch their hair.” She rolled her eyes at him.

“Well…you may touch mine, for good luck, as you say. Would that make you feel less nervous?” It was a surprising offer and she shook her head immediately. “Oh no, I won’t touch your hair, in the dining room, in front of everyone!” She hissed under her breath which made him break into booming laughter.

Fiddling around with his braids for a second, he pressed a small metal bead into her hand under the table.

“For good luck.” He winked. “Thorin-king, you cannot do that.” She blushed. “I am king; I can do what I want.”

Being back home with his people brought out that other side of him as well, she noticed; he seemed to have a streak of wicked, quick-witted humour that made her head spin. She knew this to be a joke for she was fiercely aware that she had only known one single person in all her life who had lived observing a more extensive array of rules and restrictions than her: Thorin.

“Be true to your name, woman, and have faith in me, have faith in my people. We are a private folk, suspicious, distrustful, wary of outsiders, but we also know a gem from a pebble, and we value loyalty above all else.” He said with that weighty, serious tone that made him sound so much like a king of old.

He served her prime cuts and a good heap of vegetables. “Eat your greens, Thorin-king!” She whispered as she understood that he was trying to smuggle her his portion as well. Despite the face that he made at her, he shoved a fork full into his mouth grimly and stared her down defiantly.

“Thank you, Mistress.” Fíli bowed his head at her with a cheeky smile. “At your service, prince.” She replied, her deference marred by the grin she couldn’t suppress. “Do you want to walk with Kíli and me after dinner? We can show you the others.” The prince offered eagerly. “Others?” Faith was immediately interested.

“Don’t overtax her.” Thorin cut in, stern, afraid that too many dwarrows at once might still make her run for the hills.

“Oh, please say I may go, Master Dwarf. Please.” She begged, grabbing his arm with both her hands. “Well, my nephews can open the doors for you.” He said with a sly smile and had she not been in the dining room in presence of a good many of his subjects, she might have smacked his arm for his cheeky insolence.

“Will you heap blessings on them as well?” Thorin asked, a tinge of jealousy piqued within his heart. “I shall beg the great creator to be merciful to those who would follow you into the great unknown, yes.”

“That great creator you always talk about…who is he?” Thorin shoved away his plate and turned to her fully, to the surprise and confusion of the other people in the room. “Well, he’s the great creator. We are not given his name, Thorin-king. He is one and he is many. He is the source of everything.”

Thorin made a gesture that encouraged her to go on. “He’s the beginning and from him flowed all powers and things, which in turn created new things. Creatures of mud. Creatures of stone.” She smiled up at him with open warmth.

“We believe that Mahal has created us. Hewn us from stone and Eru Ilúvatar gave us consciousness.” Thorin murmured in a low voice to her. Faith raised her hand and puckered her lips in strenuous concentration. This sounded familiar…had she perverted her nan’s stories? Had she diluted the tale?

“He is one and he is many, from him all things sprang, the holy maker of things, fashioner of chains and forger of wonders…the name escapes me, Thorin-king, but I might have heard of that Mahal.” She whispered, more to herself than to him until she became aware of his burning gaze upon her focused face. “Yes, I might have known that story…” She repeated.

“That’s a part of the great creator that had no bearing on my life though, I am sorry.” She went on, apologetic. “The story doesn’t end there; Yavanna, his wife, is queen of the earth, bringer of fruits, protectress of all things that grow.” Thorin interrupted her.

“So, you’ve given the different parts of the great creator names?” – “It’s what people say…there are many names and a lot of stories, I thought you might like them.” He smiled gently; he had seen how she was grounded in her faith and how she thrived on stories and tales. This was a gift to her, and he hoped that she would not be offended.

“Hmmm, interesting.” Faith was consumed by curiosity now. “So, you were hewn from stone?” – “No, not me.” He laughed.

“Durin then? Was Durin hewn from stone?” She asked, remembering that mystical first king. “Yes…”

“And he had a long beard?” Faith beamed up at him. “Yes, he had a long beard.” Thorin chuckled, amazed by her naïve fascination and earnest wish to learn; to her, all of this were stories, fairy tales and pretty lies, but his people had cherished and passed on those accounts for generations.

Faith’s mind was churning with questions; to her, there had always been a notion of sacrifice and devotion to her observance of her belief and she wondered what might please this Mahal.

“Have I leave to go to the nearest river in the morning?” She asked Thorin as their plates were cleared away. “What for?”

“Have I leave to use one of your furnaces?” She went on, not answering his question.

“I accept your faith, I accept your vision of the creator, and I hope they might accept my way of honouring them.”

She would go and collect loam, purify it to clay and turn it into pottery, he understood. Offerings had ever been her way of expressing and observing her faith; he had seen her twice bleed onto the ground and a hundred times call out to the great creator while offering her time, her tears, and her pain to him.

“What for?” He repeated slowly. “To give thanks for the walls that encase me, for the man who’s saved me, for the creation of this beauty that fills my soul to the brim, Master Thorin. I have seen great wonders, they were gifts, and gratitude is expected.”

When he didn’t reply, Faith went on softly: “I have surrendered my life to you, I have surrendered my name to you, let me worship the way I always have and hope that it finds grace.”

Industry and creation had ever been pleasing to Mahal, Thorin thought and he could barely imagine that any Valar could be displeased with such ready and absolute devotion. One could have believed that her soul was easily swayed, but as he looked into her eyes, he discovered that her belief had only deepened thanks to his words.

“I’ve told you about Yavanna because she sounds like someone you’d feel…close to.” Thorin went on, disregarding his nephews who were chomping at the bit to get the poor woman away from him. No doubt, they had some mischief in mind.

“Many times you’ve called me king of stone, immutable and intransigent…” He went on. “Strong and steady.” She corrected.

“Well, allow me to call you queen of growth then, queen of thriving things, queen of change.” The way his face melted into a dazzling smile made her feel weak in the knees; he was the fire and the smith in equal measures, and she would never grow accustomed to the flashing blaze that engulfed her unexpectedly.

“Let us call you queen of moving away from the grumpy old dwarrow.” Kíli said cheekily and pulled her by the arm, almost tearing the whole limb out of the socket. “Gently!” Thorin warned his nephew, who apologised but kept drawing her away.

“So…how do you find uncle?” Kíli asked as soon as they were – almost – out of earshot.

“What are you talking about? He’s just over there! I had no reason to search for him this far.” Faith replied with a smirk.

“Haha, funny, no, but…how do you find him?” The young prince insisted, not discouraged by her side-stepping.

“I find him much restored in his health and mood now that he’s amongst his kin.” Faith provided amiably.

“Mahal’s beard, woman, do you think he’s cute?” Ah, the impatience of the young, Faith thought, increasingly enjoying this little game. “No, prince, there is no creature on this earth less probable to be called “cute” than your uncle, the king.” She chuckled.

“Really? Look at him, look at the fuzzy beard…Is it the beard? Really, he could grow a proper one, not like Kí here…He has his reasons to wear it short…It is the beard, isn’t it?” Fíli plunged into the conversation.

Faith wondered how good the king’s hearing was and how he’d feel about her being asked inappropriate questions about him by his intrusive but adorable nephews. She also knew that beards and hair were not up for discussion usually.

“There is nothing wrong with the king’s beard.” – “You can call him Thorin, he’s not here…You can call him everything you like…” Fíli was an irreverent creature, Faith thought, cheeky to a fault, but she felt warm affection wash through her immediately, nonetheless.

“I shall call the king what he is. A king. Your most revered uncle. A man deserving of respect and esteem.” She said severely.

“You sound like mother…Come on, give us something. Any little thing, you like the beard then?”

“He’s a good man.” Faith said slowly. “But do you think he’s handsome? I feel like he hasn’t been told that he’s handsome lately. Mom tells him he looks like a raincloud that was stuffed inside a rotten tree trunk for too long.”

Faith knew that it was a trap, but she couldn’t help herself. “I am pretty sure that the honourable princess would never say anything quite as callously untrue to her brother, the king.” She cut in sharply.

“You should tell him that he’s handsome.” Kíli looked at her with huge, wet eyes pleadingly. “No, I should most definitely not do anything of the sort. Are you out of your mind, good prince?”

Faith bit her lip, that was no way one was to speak to a prince.

“I am not. He’s my uncle, I am fond of him…and he’s lonely. Also, he’s worn his best tunic tonight and you did not comment on it, did you? Screaming at him and all.” Now, he was making her feel guilty; she had indeed almost argued with Thorin tonight.

“Durin blue and all…” Fíli added. “You know Durin?”

“The one hewn from stone with the long beard, yes. I have not had the pleasure as that was before my time, but yes, I have been made aware of him.” Faith replied cautiously; she knew not if she was allowed to talk about this to other people.

“Do you think him ugly? It’s okay if you do, many of your kind do. We had just hoped that you’d…cheer the old boulder up with your feminine guiles.” They seemed dejected by her words and Faith was quick to want to reassure them. One would have thought that she had insulted their Mahal and Durin by not answering their question and their sad eyes broke her heart.

“Who? The king? He’s the most beautiful creature in the world.” Faith almost stumbled over her own words.

“Oh really? Can you tell him? Please, tell him.” Strong hands closed around her arm. They must have been adorable as children, Faith thought again, no wonder Thorin loved them with such fierce intensity and tender indulgence.

“To his face?” Faith was doubtful that this would be a good idea. “To his goofy, fuzzy face, yes.” Kíli laughed.

“Kí…Let’s go meet a friend of ours. I think you’ll like him.” Fíli grabbed her sleeve ever so delicately and gave it a gentle tug, apparently afraid to damage his uncle’s plaything. “I am not made of sugar.” Faith laughed.

“You have no idea what they’re like if you dare…touch, take, damage or steal what they consider theirs. Great-granddad, he was…intense.” Fíli chuckled, but there was a darker, painful truth behind his light tone. Faith retraced their family tree, potential centuries of history, reciting under her breath: Thorin II, son of Thráin II, son of Thrór. What had happened to them? Thorin had spoken at length about the family that lived, about the people she’d meet, but he had avoided the subject of his forefathers as much as possible. What did the prince mean by “intense”?

“I am not his. Not in that way. I am a tool, not a valued possession.” Faith tried to protest, but heavy dwarven brows raised in evident mockery stopped the gush of indignant words immediately.

“Yeah, that’s probably why I can already feel our mother’s breath on my neck…Uncle didn’t want to let you go, let you out of his sight…as if we’d ever let any harm come to you.” Fíli puffed up with wounded pride. “The king says you have a tendency to mislay and lose your…things. Toys. Ponies.” Faith dared interject.

“This is different! Mother would…oh, she’d be furious and so would uncle. No, we’ll take you to see Ori and let uncle introduce you himself to the rougher fellows. Do you have any valuables?” Kíli asked in a nonchalant tone as they led her down a narrow corridor.

“No?” Faith patted the pockets of the dress that didn’t belong to her, just in case the previous owner had left anything in them.

“Good, because Nori will pick your pockets.” They both laughed. “Oh…maybe I should have brought something of value then?” Faith felt bad and slightly irritated at the boys for not having warned her beforehand.

“Here, it’s your own coin you handed to me so gallantly. It will make the old boy happy.” Fíli handed her a coin and she tucked it away in one of the skirt pockets diligently. “You’re a good sort, Mistress.” Kíli grinned, giving her a small slap on the shoulder that propelled her a few feet forwards.

“Be careful, Kí! Uncle will not let her come with us anymore if she’s all bruised afterwards!” His brother reprimanded the young prince immediately who apologised with another one of those melting puppy-eyed looks that made her heart shudder with maternal instincts. “I have to toughen up.” She just smiled.

“No, we need to learn delicacy. Ah, here’s one who will know how to act…Ok, he’s fled. We’ll get him!”

They ran off, after a reddish flash dashing around a corner, with surprising agility. To Faith, it felt like watching wolf pups chase after a deer; there was the distinct cuteness of youth, but already, one could not oversee the instincts and the single-minded determination of predators, of warriors, of flowering strength and power.

Sighing, she decided to follow them, praying that there would be no doors to open or sullen dwarrows to confront before she found them. In her mind, she turned over the question if it would really be appropriate to tell the king that he was handsome…She had said so before, but she had spoken abstractly, never really adopting the tone his nephews so ardently claimed was necessary. The mere possibility that those two rascals could be right when hinting at the king’s loneliness overruled her sense of propriety and what little pride she had left. Once she’d find her way back to her companion, she’d tell him.

“Mistress? Here’s Ori.” Kíli shoved another youngish dwarrow towards her who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but in her presence. Her heart froze. Two other silhouettes appeared from the shadows and the hairs on her neck raised in gooseflesh.

[amnachil]

The College Society Chapter 3 Part 11

The beginning of our little trip in France. I hope you’ll like it as much as i did writing it.

Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey Friday March 1

Fate was messing around with him lately. The Dean's grandson, a gifted sexual hunter, who had the natural skill to please absolutetly everyone in bed, was doing some idiotics stuffs with his boyfriend. And I like it. They were leaving for France this evening, but before that, Liam wanted to do something for his bestfriend's birthday. And that was why he, Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey, was doing shopping. Me, wandering in a mall to find a present. I'm doing the errand, that's not normal at all. Since his baboon had lessons to attend to, he had volunteered to find a... a thing. It was a new fairy figurine from a collection that Nate had been looking for since its release. But the blond junior had been searching in three stores so far, and he hadn't found this shitty fairy yet. According to Liam, it was famous and easy to find. Easy my ass. Fuck this boyfriend, I can't say no when he puckers. Anyway, the Dean's grandson had enough of this shit. He took his phone and called Nancy straight away.

"Pussy in fire to the god of sex, do you need any assistance ?" she answered quite fast.

The lad felt a bit relieved when he heard her voice. At least someone who still sees me for what I am. It was so infuriating to act like a nice boyfriend sometimes... Even if a part of him loved it.

"I'm looking for a fukin' doll. I mean a fuckin' fairy figurine newly released... Hell, it's for a friend, of course."

"Of course."

Her tone said she didn't trust him at all. Now this is a real shame. First, Archie had discovered his relationship with the baboon. Nancy wasn't stupid either, she would find out soon. What will happen to my reputation, I wonder ?

"I got this Little Fairy Stephania which is quite rare. There's one copy in a shop near your university."

"That's what I bloody need." Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey sharply stated. "What do you want in exchange for the adress ?"

"Well... I was craving for a new pick of your butt since three days so..."

Once he got back home, the young man made diner. Well, more like a feast. Since Nick's flat was kind of small, they all agreed to make Nate's birthday party here. They hadn't much time anyway : their departure to France was at ten pm. It had been a long time since I've invited this many people here... Well, except for threesomes. No sex tonight of course. Only this dummy Liam and his friends with their pathetic silliness. Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey was almost done with the cake when he heard a knock at the door. Who the hell is bothering me ? They can't be there yet. He opened, frankly pissed, and stared at a girl.

"Hi, I'm Leila Hart." she introduced herself. "I'm the secretary of the women defense club."

"Yeah, and you can go fuck yourself right back in the trash you come from. I'm busy."

He tried to close the door, but she put her foot in the way.

"D.R sent me." she declared. "I have a message for you."

The Dean's grandson looked daggers at her. What on earth D.R wants ?

"Talk, pasty."

From times to times, D.R would send a minion instead of coming herself. At first, he had felt a bit insulted, but he got used to it. After all, it was an opportunity to have sex. But not tonight. I have priorities. To be calling the baboon his priority, he couldn't believe himself.

"She only wants to be sure you'll protect our student abroad. I'm here to remind you the rules. May I come in ?"

"Definitely not, you idiot." he grumbled. "I already know the stuff, stupid. And do not even dare ask me about it. Just leave."

This asshole hesitated. But when she glimpsed his eyes, she decided to obey. Good. At last, he could go back to his cooking.

At first, this birthday diner went mainly well. Liam and Nick managed to have some fun, and Nate eventually loosen up. As for Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey, well, all this nonsense wasn't his cup of tea but... I must admit, whenever I see my baboon smiling like that, I'm melting. However, the lad was a bit pissed by Nate's appetite. This moron wasn't eating at all. While the two glutton were finishing everything, Liam's bestfriend showed no interest in the food. It hurt the chef at two level. Mainly because he was a fucking good cook, and everyone loved his cuisine. But also because he could feel Liam sadness about it. I agreed to help this dwarf, but I don't like him for all that.

"Why are you all grumpy ?" whispered his boyfriend at his ear.

"I'm not grumpy." mumbled Damian Nicholas Smith Carrey. "I'm only thinking."

Liam took his hand and kissed him.

"I know this isn't perfect, and I know you don't trust people easily but please, be patient. I'm sure you'll love Nate with time."

How the hell do you guessed I was pissed about Nate ? This dreamy baboon could be very observant sometimes.

"Fine. I'll make an effort."

Liam Saturday March 2 – Sunday March 3, in France

The unicorns advised him to be careful in France. He lengthly thought about what it meant. Nate was improving, and he had admitted he was glad to have celebrated his birthday. But maybe the magical creatures sensed another peril... Liam did his best to be wary during the flight, but he quickly lost track of time. When they arrived to France, Dami had to wake him up because he had fallen asleep (with the time difference, he was struggling to stay awake anyway). They went to the hotel, where he was sharing a room with Nate and Nick. And for the saturday, their professor gave them free time.

"We won't start the group project before monday." decided Nick. "We'll visit the economics department on tuesday anyway. So let's take advantage of Paris guys."

They did as he suggested. Liam had a lot of fun visiting museum (well, in truth he didn't even remember what museum they went in, because Dami was always distracting him). (No, he wasn't distracted all by himself, it was his boyfriend's fault this time). Nate relaxed a bit, and he seemed to get back a little of his joie de vivre. Frenchs people were nice (they often insulted Liam to be so slow, but he supposed it was their way to be polite). (Several girls also tried to take Colton and him to go out, but they always declined). (Dami declined for him which his usual sweetness : "get lost bitches !"). And so the weekend went well. However, Paris had another good thing to offer : food. There were restaurants everywhere, and they offered delicious dishes. In order to make the most of it, they tried as much establishment as possible. Liam's boyfriend paid for almost everything, but the chestnut lad had also saved a bit for the occasion. Nick and him finished the day more than full. Even Colton and Nate were eating way more than usual. But everything tasted so succulent ! Liam couldn't hold himself but devour absolutely everything they had on the menu. On Sunday's evening, they entered a restaurant called Chez Bocher. They proposed a food challenge which attracted the young students.

"We definitely should try this." said Nick, more than happy to be there. "I'm sure Liam can do it, and it'll be a free meal."

C'mon, I'm not that gourmand. Don't put too much hope on me. Honestly, he was eager to try. He quickly checked on Nate. His bestfriend outlined a smile.

"I guess it can be fun." he whispered. "At least if you think you can manage to eat the whole thing ?"

"You're warned, I'm not paying if you fail baboon." intervened Dami. "Your call."

Even Colton seemed curious to see that. They're all so insistent. (Yeah, nobody insisted, but it was Liam's excuse for what he was about to do.) (He just wanted to test his limit so badly !).

Maybe it was a bad idea after all. Only the unicorns knew how much he already ate. But he had still two plates to finish in order to win the challenge. He was so stuffed. His belly was hard as a rock, like a giant basket ball underneath his now too tight sweater. He had openned his belt and trousers a while ago, to let his stomach expand freely. I don't know if I can do this. It was more food than Dami ever gave him. He wasn't used to such an amount anymore. But the cheerings of his friends were pushing him beyond his limits.

"I mean, that's truly incredible." spilt Colton after a while. "What an appetite."

"I didn't know you had this in you." added Nick. "That's amazing."

"Guys... Imma collapse..." confessed Liam with a loud burp.

He managed to eat two more mouthfuls with reluctance. It was painful. Each morsel of food was pushing further his distented belly. He glimpsed Dami who was texting someone. His boyfriend wouldn't help in front of everyone, since they were still a secret. (Well, Nick and Nate knew, but not Colton). (Or he didn't say it). (And anyway, Liam knew that his boyfriend was a bit sadistic, he would let him suffer).

"I'm sure you can do it." assured Nate with a grin. "My bestfriend isn't a quiter."

He was apparently enjoying the whole thing. Glad to know you're having fun.

"Burp. I will do my.... burp best..."

With slowness, he cleared the next plate. One left. Unicorns please, send help. He felt like a soon-to-explode balloon. His hand rubbed diligently his overstuffed midsection. It was so round, so big.

"C'mon baboon. Let's get this done." grumpled Dami.

He took the cutlery and he fed himself his boyfriend. Thanks to his help and their's friend cheerings, Liam managed to polish the last dishes. The waiter couldn't even believe it. Neither the students to be honest. (Liam felt so proud of himself.) (But also soooooo sick).

"Now that is what I call a new record." congratuled Nate.

Liam smiled to him, but his bestfriend's face suddenly crumpled. Because right behind them, at the entrance, was standing Kilian, Liam's ex.

The chesnut lad couldn't move. Not only because he was stuffed like a turkey for christmas. He couldn't think properly. How is it possible ? There is no way. No way. The force of evils just struck. And struck strongly.

"Liam." whispered Kilian. "and Nate. Hi."

Around him, his french's friends looked at them curiously. But the young dreamy lad didn't do anything. He didn't answer, he didn't do a single move. He was like frozen.

"It's... surprising to see you there." continued his ex. "I mean, you're supposed to be in America."

This evening can't be worse. I need to react. To say something. Tons of things were crossing Liam's mind. Why the force of evils did this ? What should he say ? What would Dami think ? He really wanted to run away, but his bloated stomach prevented him to.

"Trust me, we're surprised aswell." responded Nate after a while.

"Sorry to be the one who break the mood." took part Dami. "But who the hell are you, and why you three look like you've seen god itself ?"

"I'm Liam's ex-boyfriend, Kilian De Beauchêne." replied the main concerned party.

A blank followed. A very long and scary blank. Liam was completely panicing. (At least internally). (His painful belly probably prevented him to do a panic attack). He was short-winded and very stressed by the situation.

"You know what ? Let's not continue this awkward moment." decided Dami. "Liam, get up, we're leaving. This is way too bizarre."

The chestnut boy was more than glad to obey. Nate helped him to stand up, and they all left as fast as possible with their overfed friend.

Barbara Sunday March 3 – Monday March 4, in France

"Sounds cool. Doesn't work."

The blonde girl sighed. When she decided to make an alliance with Rebecca, she never planned this. Well, I wanted her support but... The athlete had come to France with her sophomere friends, Chelsea and Matthew. The first one was a nice but a little stupid law student. As for the dude... I can tell he's sleeping with both of them. Seems like he has a blast.

"I mean, you want to ridicule Nick by charging him of cheating with false evidence." summarized the lad. "It really is a good idea, but the professors will never fall for it. This geek is a real genius, who finished his 12th grade with one hand tied behind his back. Why on earth he would have to cheat eh ?"

I guess you're right. Barbara shrugged, a bit annoyed. It was already Sunday's night, and they didn't have even the beginning of a plan.

"Let's make it easier." suggested Rebecca. "We can make his whole trip a true hell. And in the meantime, we'll think of something."

"I think I have an idea." smiled the short girl. "You told me he was scared of water, right ?"

"Yeah, why ?"

"You'll see tomorow. I swear it will be fun to watch."

Indeed, they have this cruise on the Seine on Monday. Barbara carefully watched Nick when he went aboard. You looks so scared... Poor little thing. Just wait. She had other project for today anyway. She headed towards the back of the ship, where Colton was talking with Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey. I don't get it. Why the king was talking with her ex ? What was special about him ?

"Hi guys." she smiled. "Are you having fun ?"

"Go fuck yourself little roach." answered sharply the junior. "I already told you, no more favor."

"Everything's fine." replied more diplomatically the brown-haired lad. "Well, Liam and Nate decided to stay at the hotel because the first wasn't feeling well, but otherwise we're great."

She didn't care about her chestnut classmate yet. She would catch him a bit later. Besides, Damian Nicholas Smith-Carrey wasn't making any progress. He managed to make Nate comes, but he got nothing in return so far.

"You know, I heard some strange thing about you Colton." she revealed. "People nicknamed you the Good Samaritan. Did you make a big donation or what ?"

"I'm just being my usual self." he explained. "Nothing more, nothing less. I didn't do anything related to money. Why ?"

Crap. He's a true mystery. He looked so stupid, so idiotic. But everyone seemed to like him. Since the prof called him, Colton left them, and she hadn't made any progress.

"You're so funny you pathetic bitch." laughed the Dean's grandson. "You're so blind and deseperate you didn't even realise why he was so popular in highschool. Stupid short chick."

"What do you mean ?" (She decided to ignore his cuss words.).

"Are you that dumb ? Your ex-boyfriend doesn't have to do anything special, dumbass. He's so sweet and nice that everyone wants to be close to him. Nobody thinks to hurt him because he's so shining. But there you are, a stupid moron who thinks he had nothing for him. Numbskull."

Was it the real explanation ? She couldn't be sure, but it seemed possible. Anyway, I guess it's too late to turn back. I'll take care of Colton later. For now, let's focus on this asshole of Nick.

He was standing in the middle of the barge, apparently stressed. Since Liam and Nate weren't here, he was alone. Rebecca was making fun of him.

"Don't worry so much ! You've a natural life preserver." she teased. "You have no balls or what ?"

Barbara came closer, amused by this situation. Back in highschool, she thought bullying was bad, but she had finally understood it was a way like another to get the power she needed. To avoid their mocking, he tried to go away and came closer to the edge. That's why I wanted. Nice. There was some bright side to be so small. She could sneak between people so easily. The blonde girl came closer as discreetly as possible. She was so close to him that she could smell his sweat. He was so stressed by their surroundings. How pathetic. Barbara took her phone out. She was about to do something bad but well... She had understood very well how things worked in real life. Be a predator or you will be eaten. And so, she pushed him overboard.

To be continued

France is famous for its cuisine after all ! That’s pretty normal for Liam and his friends to enjoy what this country has to offer.

Aaaaand here he is ! Kilian is back. For those who doesn’t know him, he’s a main character in the last part of The High School Game, my first story. Maybe we’ll finally learn what happened between Liam and him ? :)

Damian is falling hard for his boyfriend, that’s kind of funny. And yes, he’s a feeder at heart.

Being in another country is also the prefect opportunity for Barbara to be nasty again. I liked this girl back then. Now, I don’t.

[seriouslyhooked]

One Call Away (The CS Mixtape) Part 155/?

Series of CS oneshots inspired by music. Collection on FF Here.

A/N: Future CS drabble where Killian gets a call from his and Emma’s daughter Hope telling him he needs to come right home. He’s worried about his daughter and about Emma who is supposed to be home with their little one, but when he gets home there’s no actual emergency and it devolves into some much needed CS family cuteness. Inspired by a reader request for the song ‘One Call Away’ by Charlie Puth.

“You know for a pirate, you’re actually not a terrible driver.”

David’s words of semi-praise as Killian and he exited the squad car after their morning rounds were humorous to Killian even as he rolled his eyes. This was a long running joke on David’s part that had been going on since right around the time that Killian and Emma got married, in which David assessed Killian’s ability to do anything and everything based on his past occupation in life.

“Because shepherds and princes have so much experience with these things,” Killian replied and David laughed at the witty retort.

“Touché. I guess I really only know because my cursed self did. You, on the other hand, had to actually learn.”

And wasn’t that the truth? Killian still looked back on those moments with mixed emotions, because on the one hand it had been damn tedious to learn how to captain these vessels, especially in that tiny bug of Emma’s. But on the other hand he had all that extra time with his Swan, and she’d been very generous and creative in the reward system she made to motivate him to do well. She was so good, in fact, that Killian earned his license in record time, and now every time he got behind the wheel of one of these automobiles, he had those fond memories to reflect on.

“Is that a real compliment, mate?” Killian asked as they strolled into the station and David slapped his hand upon Killian’s shoulder good-naturedly.

“It is, and I think you’ve earned it seeing as how you put that last complaint to bed so quickly.”

Killian groaned aloud thinking back to today’s one actual encounter with the Storybrooke populace. It was, unsurprisingly, an incident having to do with the dwarves, and where both David and Emma had a bit more patience with these matters normally, Killian did not. He knew better than to entertain the dramatics that flared up between that group of busybodies and luckily none of them, not even Grumpy, ever questioned the badge he’d taken on after the Black Fairy’s curse was lifted. Instead they grumbled about his being so abrupt, but they settled down enough again to rectify the noise complaint that Granny had been forced to file after their antics.

“I think we need a new system,” Killian said as they moved into the precinct once more and he hung up his jacket and grabbed his share of lunch from David before moving to his desk. “Each of them can have one infraction a week or it’s a stint in a cell for the lot of them. Otherwise they get themselves all worked up over and over again and we’ve got more work because of it.”

“You might be onto something there,” David admitted as he sat down across the way with his own food. “But all things considered, I’ll take dwarf wrangling to facing actual villains any day.”

“Hear, hear,” Killian agreed as he toasted with his cup (which thanks to his being on duty and his wife’s loving insistence, was not filled with rum as he might have preferred, but with water) and dug into his meal.

Yet as Killian sat there with David in companionable silence, it wasn’t work or villains that were on his mind, but his Emma and their daughter Hope who were waiting for him at home. Since he was working today Emma was at the house with their little princess, who would be turning four in a few weeks time, and Killian was anxious to get back to them. Nothing ever felt as right as when he was with his family, and work was all the more tiresome when Killian knew he could be there treasuring these sacred moments with the two most important people in his life instead.

In the meantime though, Killian did have some small comfort in the form of their many pictures framed on his desk. It was impossible to see them all and not smile, and today his gaze cast to his favorite one and he remembered the moment when that shot had been captured. It was an image of the three of them and Henry all aboard the Jolly Roger, with Hope up on Killian’s shoulders making a precociously silly face and Emma in his arms smiling right for the camera as Henry did the same on his other side. Killian meanwhile had been caught looking at Emma in the same way he so often did, like she hung the moon and stars, because in his world she did. Everything good in his life that he had was thanks to this woman, and there was never a day that went by where Killian didn’t feel that right down to his soul.

Suddenly the familiar chirp of his phone went off, and Killian saw that it was Emma’s number flashing on the screen before he answered it. The fact that it was his wife who was calling made the whole idea of having to use this bloody contraption far more bearable, and he was hoping for some good news that perhaps she and Hope would visit this afternoon and end the long hours of separation he had dealt with for this shift.

“Couldn’t last a whole day without me, could you love?” Killian joked as a way of answering, but where he expected to hear Emma’s equally teasing voice floating back through the speaker, he heard his daughter’s instead sounding animated and adamant.

“Daddy you have to come home right away!”

“Hope? What is it? What’s happened?” Killian asked, feeling immediately on edge and rising to his feet, sending a look to David who also appeared incredibly concerned. Without any words exchanged, David just gave Killian a nod and Killian grabbed his jacket and threw it back on as he raced out the door before Hope elaborated.

“We need you here right now!” Hope said, this time just as enthusiastically, and Killian was at a loss for what to do. His natural response was to run, figuring he’d get home sooner at a full sprint then he would getting in the truck and driving back. But while he planned to keep Hope on the phone with him to get more information, she only added that she loved him and then the line went dead.

The rush of cold and pounding dread that coursed through Killian in that instant was severe, and he didn’t bother to try and call Emma’s phone back. Hope would likely not know how to answer, and it would just take time from getting to them. Instead he moved as fast as he could, making it back to their house in record time and running up the stairs at a loss for breath but ready to face whatever situation awaited him.

“Swan?!” Killian called out into the house, worried that something would be amiss, but then in a white poof of her own true-love induced magic, Hope appeared with Emma right on her tail.

Seeing that the two of them were in fact alright was incredibly reassuring, but while Killian’s mind might be able to process their being safe, his body was still running on that adrenaline that fear had instilled only minutes ago. His hand and hook shook from the force of the exertion of running here and from the lingering sense of terror he’d been suffering from. But just the sight of his daughter bounding towards him with her chestnut brown curls bouncing and her blue eyes filled with happiness at his arrival was enough to steady him somewhat.

“Daddy you made it! We’ve been waiting forever,” Hope said with a mix of childish cheer and a bit of chastisement all at once as she hugged his legs tight.

“Forever?” Killian asked, still not following as he squatted down to get to eye level with his little princess. “You just called me, lass, and I ran all the way here from the station. Not all of us have magical powers you know.”

At the reminder Hope actually looked sad for him and for her part in worrying him and she patted him on the shoulder sweetly before giving him a kiss on the cheek. Though he was damn near losing his mind just a moment before, Killian found some substantial comfort in that warm embrace from his daughter, and it was heightened all the more when he looked over her shoulder to her mother who had an apologetic smile of her own waiting for Killian.

“Hope just told me that she cracked the password on my phone. Guess who her first call was?”

Ah, that made a bit more sense and now that he wasn’t worried that Emma or Hope was in trouble he could see the humor in that. At almost four, Hope was a fast learner, and she’d taken to mechanisms in this world in a vastly superior way to him. Truth be told Killian still had an aversion to the phone and it had been years since he’d first been given one, which had made the call he just got all the more alarming.

“It was you Daddy!” Hope said happily. “I called to invite you to our tea party.”

If someone had told Killian Jones even a dew years ago that he would not only be willingly attending an affair of this sort, but that he’d actually be happy in the face of such a chance, he’d have called them a fool. Then he’d have called them a half a dozen other things that were hardly appropriate for little ears. But now he was a different man entirely, a man who loved his wife and child more than anything, and who knew that a person only had so many moments and so much precious time with the people they loved in this life. He’d been blessed enough to find his happy ending, and if it happened to include tea parties with his two girls then so be it.

“I’m honored, lass. I should just call your grandfather and let him know I have urgent celebratory business to attend to.”

Hope giggled at his ways of describing things, and Killian knew it was because she largely didn’t understand him. He’d tried to bring his language down to her level ever since she was born, but then he reasoned she was such a smart lass she’d pick up on it soon enough. Besides, his joke landed well with his wife who let out a sweet sound of laughter that filled Killian’s chest with warmth as she came over and bestowed her own kiss on his lips and took his hand in hers.

“I just called Dad when Hope told me what happened. He says there’s nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow and he’ll radio if anything else comes up.”

“Well thank the Gods for that,” Killian muttered and Emma ran her hand against his chest in a soothing gesture.

“She got you good didn’t she?” Emma asked and Killian nodded, his eyes tracing back over their little girl as she led them back to the living room and then moving to Emma as he reminded himself all over again that they were actually safe.

“Aye. I know things have been peaceful since well before she was born, but…”

“But it’ll always be our job to protect her no matter what,” Emma said and Killian nodded, loving even after all these years that the two of them were bound together like this. They were a team, had been almost since the start, and though parenting was in many ways an adventure he hadn’t been ready for, it was the best one he’d even been privy to save perhaps the adventure of being Emma’s husband.

“It’s my job to protect both of you, Emma, and I have every intention of doing it for the rest of our lives.”

Emma’s eyes lit up at the promise and the brightness of her smile infiltrated those jade colored pools in a way that made her even more beautiful. In truth she was a vision, and Killian just stood there knowing that he was the luckiest man in all the realms because he truly had everything he’d ever wanted.

“Daddy always comes when we need him, doesn’t he Mommy?” Hope asked then as they sat down at the little table Killian and Henry had crafted together for Hope some time ago, and Emma smiled at Killian before replying.

“Yes he does, honey. And it’s safe to say that he always will.”

“Aye. I’m only one call away, love, whenever you need me. But maybe next time you can tell me why you need me too, alright?”

“But what if it’s a surprise?” Hope asked, genuinely curious and clearly not following how much she’d alarmed Killian, but her clear desire to understand made both Emma and Killian laugh as he pulled Hope in to press a kiss to the crown of her head.

“Then you tell me it’s a surprise and I’ll follow you wherever you lead, lass.”

“Okay it’s a deal,” Hope agreed, and with that the tea party commenced and Killian and Emma enjoyed the rest of their day with their rambunctious daughter, soaking up the everyday normalcy of their glorious happily ever after.

………………..

I'm only one call away I'll be there to save the day Superman got nothing on me I'm only one call away

Call me, baby, if you need a friend I just wanna give you love Come on, come on, come on Reaching out to you, so take a chance

No matter where you go You know you're not alone

I'm only one call away I'll be there to save the day Superman got nothing on me I'm only one call away

Come along with me and don't be scared I just wanna set you free Come on, come on, come on You and me can make it anywhere For now, we can stay here for a while, ay 'Cause you know, I just wanna see you smile

No matter where you go You know you're not alone

I'm only one call away I'll be there to save the day Superman got nothing on me I'm only one call away

And when you're weak I'll be strong I'm gonna keep holding on Now don't you worry, it won't be long, Darling And when you feel like hope is gone Just run into my arms

I'm only one call away I'll be there to save the day Superman got nothing on me I'm only one, I'm only one call away I'll be there to save the day Superman got nothing on me I'm only one call away

I'm only one call away

Post-Note: So this request came a long long time ago, and there were so many possible ways to take it, but given recent events I wanted to make it a future CS snapshot, and once I had that in mind, the rest came naturally. Thank you very much to my lovely reader who was so patient with this song request, and to all of you who have been equally patient. I hope you all enjoyed and that you’re weeks are going okay all things considered.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9,Part 10,Part 11, Part 12,Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24,Part 25, Part 26, Part 27, Part 28, Part 29, Part 30, Part 31,Part 32, Part 33, Part 34, Part 35, Part 36, Part 37, Part 38,Part 39,Part 40, Part 41, Part 42, Part 43, Part 44, Part 45,Part 46,Part 47, Part 48, Part 49, Part 50, Part 51, Part 52, Part 53,Part 54,Part 55, Part 56, Part 57, Part 58, Part 59, Part 60,Part 61,Part 62, Part 63, Part 64, Part 65, Part 66, Part 67, Part 68,Part 69,Part 70, Part 71, Part 72, Part 73, Part 74, Part 75,Part 76,Part 77, Part 78, Part 79, Part 80, Part 81, Part 82, Part 83,Part 84,Part 85, Part 86, Part 87, Part 88, Part 89, Part 90,Part 91,Part 92, Part 93, Part 94, Part 95, Part 96, Part 97, Part 98,Part 99,Part 100, Part 101, Part 102, Part 103, Part 104, Part 105,Part 106, Part 107,Part 108, Part 109, Part 110,Part 111, Part 112,Part 113, Part 114, Part 115,Part 116, Part 117, Part 118,Part 119,Part 120, Part 121, Part 122, Part 123,Part 124, Part 125,Part 126, Part 127, Part 128,Part 129,Part 130, Part 131,Part 132,Part 133, Part 134, Part 135, Part 136, Part 137, Part 138,Part 139,Part 140, Part 141, Part 142, Part 143, Part 144, Part 145,Part 146, Part 147, Part 148,Part 149, Part 150, Part 151,Part 152, Part 153, Part 154

[shadowyin-yang]

Saw that you're taking prompts and if you want, what about 22) "Did you just hiss at me?" with Fenris and Anders? ;) (loved the one you wrote for tearsofwinter!)

Send Me Prompts!

First off, THANK YOU!!! Aaah @tearsofwinter was the first to prompt me so I feel like I didn’t do a good enough job on the first drabble. Like I was super rusty??? But I’m glad someone liked it enough to send me a prompt due to it!!! So thank you again!

Usual: “idk if this is what you’re looking for” (b/c I imagined it being funny before it…didn’t turn out funny) + “this is too long for a drabble”

No seriously, I kind of feel I should start posting these to AO3 at this rate. 

Verse: Modern-AU with magic

Misc notes: Pre-fenders to potential fenders; mentions of tranquility (regarding Karl); Anders+insecurity issues/self-loathing/probs other things; Fenris gets beaten up by Pounce a few times (bites and scratches); everyone is an asshole (I’m watching someone play DA2 and I was kinda reminded that…everyone shits on Anders. A lot)

Link to ao3 chapter: here.

“I never hated you.”

All these years and the stupid mage decided to simply announce that tidbit of information (okay it wasn’t that simple but that would be another story)? Fenris found he was not only in disbelief but annoyed. All the wasted time spent hating on someone who did not even hate you in return! “Right, you never hated me.” He made sure to sound extra dry in his response. 

“Believe whatever you wish. I already know the same can’t be said for you towards me.” 

That part Fenris knew he could not argue with. The seething burning sensation he felt every time the mage spoke was proof enough. Except…

Maker, Anders did not seem so bad when you know he wasn’t hating you. Still annoying though. If Anders spoke the truth then everything that came out of his mouth sounded less like a personal attack. 

What followed soon after for Fenris was guilt. 

Why verbally attack someone who does not hate you? It suddenly seemed wrong to talk down to Anders when seeing the mage look away in hurt (along with anger), and retort with his own string of ugly words. Now the elf only felt like the bad guy. Say something mean and someone’s feelings gets hurt. Go figure. But it was how it always was. That’s just what they did. Why change it now? 

Fenris sought comfort from the quips Anders received from the others. A little from Aveline, mostly regarding the amount of work Anders and other mages put on her and other cops with all the meet-ups and protests; and Isabela making light of said-protests. It didn’t make Fenris feel alone when he decided to give Anders a hard time. The guilt didn’t go away though. If anything it got worse and his friends, well, now they just seemed a little…too mean. Sure, Fenris knew no one here was an angel but you’re not supposed think everyone’s suddenly worse either. The look of shame and hurt on the mage’s face became hard not to notice every time someone took a jab at his plight. It was all in good fun wasn’t it? Anders took it too seriously anyway, and it only brought everyone’s mood down so they’re just changing topics…right? So Fenris didn’t stop. He’ll keep hating the mage like always (maybe with a little less intensity). It was better this way, to keep everything the same as it was. 

Anders had confessed his feelings to Hawke. The news tightened something within Fenris, though the elf wasn’t sure what it was. A different tightening feeling occurred right after the first when it became evident Hawke did not return said-feelings. Everyone seemed to have understood that Anders needed some space and didn’t comment of his absence from game night. 

That only seemed to apply for the first few times. 

Now Anders needed to “get over it.” The mage missed so many nights since the whole thing with Hawke. It was only one excuse or another: “sorry, I have a rally to go to,” “sorry, I volunteered at the shelter,” “sorry, I volunteered at the downtown clinic,” “sorry I don’t have a lot of money right now.” 

“I’ll go talk to him.” Hawke was either foolish or the only brave one here. But who could judge when no one opposed the decision? 

Anders showed up to the next game night, and things seemingly went back to normal. Just as it should be, and just how Fenris liked it. 

“My cousin’s in town for about a month,” Hawke announced one day in game night, after Anders left. “Probably won’t be seeing Anders for a bit.” 

“What? And they don’t come to see little ol’ me?” Isabela feigned offense, “But I supposed they have always been fond of Anders. Oh well. I suppose that’s for the best though.”

“Mm? Why’s that, Izzy?” Merrill asked in curiosity. 

“The two have always gotten along. Anders always seemed very happy around them. He seems…very down lately. He could use some cheering up.”  

Fenris concluded there might’ve been some truth to that. He only met this Amell family member once, only for the sake of introductions. They were a mage though. It didn’t take long for them to show an obvious distaste for Fenris the moment he expressed his own strong opinions on mage matters. It was no wonder they got along with Anders. Whatever. It wasn’t his business. If anything, Fenris might feel his own form of distaste. This visit ruined the routine Fenris grew accustomed too. Game nights without Anders felt…different. 

During the month’s stay, Fenris often saw Anders out at night with cousin-Amell in the streets of Hightown from his apartment window. Anders never goes to Hightown without good reason, and especially not doing so at night, while smiling and laughing as he walked. Hawke was never with them and no one seemed to see Anders at all during most of this month (alone at least). It was always a curious sight whenever Fenris caught Anders out and about during the busy night with someone that wasn’t part of their main group, looking as happy as he was. Has Anders never smile or laugh? Well of course he had! But it was…different here somehow. More joyous. More genuine…

The guilt still hasn’t left.The guilt also got worse (again) when Anders resumed his regular attendance to game night again, indicating Hawke’s cousin had left. Fenris never saw Anders smile and laugh like that since the last time he watched the pair pass his apartment window. Now every chuckle and grin Anders displayed only seemed to disconnect Fenris from the reality he was viewing. It seemed wrong. Was Anders not happy? Was he not having fun? After all, why bother coming at all if you’re so damn miserable?

Fenris could not bring himself to say anything when Anders showed up one night with a small cut on his forehead. Fenris knew he usually did say something, mostly along the lines of the mage being his usual foolish self. It wasn’t the first time, nor was it the last, that Anders would show up with minor injuries from his protests and rallies for mage rights, and sometimes even elf rights. Anders never seemed to have enough mana for himself. It seemed silly to ask, not that Fenris ever did, but if one was not healing yourself and you still run out of mana…then how much healing was required? 

“You seem broodier than usual.” 

Fenris sighed. Figured Varric would be the first to notice. At least the dwarf had some decency to bring it up after everyone left for the night. “Am I?” 

“Sure. A bit quieter so it throws off your whole brooding thing a bit. Too depressing, not even charm. Did karma come around to bite you in the ass?” 

Maybe. Perhaps. Fenris wasn’t sure. “It is just the mage. Why must he show up as rugged and disheveled as he is every time? If he is so tired he should just not come at all.” 

“Well, you gotta remember he did not show up at all. You don’t just…not show up when Hawke prefers it.” 

Ah. Right. Hawke dragged Anders back. 

“Right…perhaps I am the tired one. I have had some difficulty sleeping recently.” Guilt apparently made it difficult to rest up well…

“Blondie may help you with that. Well, depends how professional you want of a diagnosis. I can give you sleeping pills if needed. Blondie just…advised I do not offer it as a first resort. But we all know how you are with him, so I just won’t mention this to him and let you get by without him breathing down your back over it. But just say the word and I can get you some!”

“Thank you, Varric. I will think about it.” 

“Take it easy on him if you see him though. Blondie seems to be having it rough lately. Well, rougher, anyway.” 

Fenris vaguely recalled where Anders lived. He never had a reason to really go see him (and that goes for all the places Anders frequented). Maker, it was disgusting. The streets were littered, the buildings looked old and worn, the roads were unfixed, and Fenris could’ve sworn there was a dead animal somewhere with every corner he turned. He had known this man for years and he could never fathom how Anders could stand living in this part of Kirkwall. Last he checked, Anders was a bloody doctor. What kind of doctor earned less money than…literally everyone else in the group? That guilt feeling started coming back again…

Fenris eventually spotted the mage standing next to a bus stop. No time like the present. He swiftly approached and touched Anders’s shoulder for his attention. Fenris swore he barely touched the man, but just from mere brush against the hoodie he heard a terribly threatening hiss, and withdrew his hand immediately. Anders turned slightly and took out an earbud. 

“Did you just hiss at me?” Fenris questioned before Anders could say anything. 

Anders only looked at him in confusion. “Did I what?” Anders looked down before even waiting for Fenris to repeat the question. “Oh Pounce, what’s the matter?” 

As Anders lifted the bottom portion of his hoodie up, Fenris spotted an orange ball of fluff. That hoodie was already ugly when he first saw it, but Fenris wasn’t sure if the little built-in pouch holding a cat made it better or worse…

“Are you scared? It’s alright, I won’t let Fenris hurt you~” Fenris had never heard Anders us such a childish tone to talk. Nor had he ever seen Anders nuzzle and kiss a cat with such love and affection. “There, there. That’s it, Pounce. It’s alright. No need to feel scared.” Maker, this man adored his cat… 

Upon calming the cat down (though Anders still cuddled him), Anders finally paid his attention to Fenris again. “Is there a reason you’re waiting on me?”

“Erm…yes. Varric recommended I go to you for suggestions. I have had some trouble sleeping as of late.”

“Oh, now you seek out a mage’s help? Tch…”

“As I’ve stated before: magic has its uses. Now will you make use of it?”

“Right, right…” Anders muttered without looking at Fenris. He sighed as he gestured down the street they were on. “Come on, my place isn’t that far from here.”

As they walked, Fenris saw the bus pass them. Anders didn’t say anything. 

Anders placed a small jar on the counter that held oddly colored leaves inside. “Take this before you sleep. Stay off your phone though. After a couple of days, tell me how it is and if you have any allergic reactions to them. You don’t need to chew it. Just drink down a leaf with water. It doesn’t have a taste so it shouldn’t be difficult.” 

Fenris looked curiously at the item. “That’s it?” and no magic?

“Yeah. It’s natural. Nothing like those over the counter stuff. Which I guess are fine for the short term, but not if you need to rely on them. Hopefully it’s just a passing thing, but might as well get used to this stuff if it works for you. Just in case.” 

“I see…” Fenris picked up the jar. The leaves looked thin and loose enough to just drink down. “You are not going to ask questions on my change of sleep problems?” 

“I would, but I figured you don’t like telling me anything. So I decided to not waste both of our time and just give you what you wanted.” 

“Right…and what are you charging?”

“Just take it. I can always get more.”

The guilt came back. “I do not wish to owe a mage anything.” Okay, that may have came out wrong. 

“Tch, fine. Just throw in a few sovereigns to the clinic or animal shelter. Or both.”

The guilt got worse. Fenris resisted pointing out the ripping wallpaper, the table with a wobbly leg, the dripping sink, and the too-easily-to-break door. He was afraid to sit down or lean on anything in fear of breaking it. 

“I…shall then…” It was the only response he could think of. 

“Alright. Well if that’s all there is. You can go. Pounce and I are taking a stroll to the grocery store.” 

And what? Buy bread and feed it to the geese? Okay Anders might actually do that…

Anders looked around for the cat. Fenris saw the orange tabby on the floor on his side of the counter licking his paws. He reached down to retrieve him for Anders, just out as an act of being nice. The cat hissed and without warning, the claws came down on the hand that reached for him. Fenris yelped as he pulled his hand back. 

“Pounce! No!” Anders quickly picked up the tabby. “Bad, Pounce! You do not attack people like that!” he used a scolding tone, though it was probably as ineffective as scolding a child. Anders sighed as he readjusted his grip on Pounce while approaching Fenris. “I’m sorry about Pounce. He…doesn’t like most people. Do you need something for that?” 

Fenris could see the claw marks on his fingers. “No. It is nothing.” he tucked his hand into his pocket and resisted the urge to hiss himself as it the pressure stung. “So you are to say that beast is picky with his company?” 

“Well I guess so…I’m not sure what it is. Pounce seems to hate everyone. Except the Amell family. Well, Carver’s the exception. Oh but he adores Hawke.” Anders chuckled as he nuzzled Pounce. It was the first time Fenris recalled seeing such a warm smile since Hawke’s cousin was over. Was a cat always this effective for Anders? 

“Oh yeah, Anders loves his cat,” Hawke said when Fenris approached them the next day. “The cat loves him too from what I can tell of cats. Which isn’t much I guess.”

“I was informed this…Ser Pounce…is rather fond of you.”

“Oh yeah,” Hawke laughed in-between drinks, “It’s really funny. Maybe I’m just good with animals. Pounce likes Bethany too though, and myself of course. And um…my cousin, and their lover. Pounce absolutely hates Carver though…and others I assume. Anders says we’re the only ones he recalled Pounce liked. Us and Karl.” 

“Karl?”

“Oh, you remember. Anders’s old lover. The one who got turned Tranquil despite passing his Harrowing. That big case a few years ago.” The case that the mages lost, and justice was never served. Fenris never really thought much about it, but being reminded of that case only made him feel…bad. 

“…And you are saying you never had to change the cat’s opinion of you?” Fenris asked instead of delving further into the negative feelings. 

“I mean I guess? Well, Pounce didn’t like me right away. Probably because I’m a stranger. But he warmed up to me. Sort of around the same time Anders did.”

Fenris blinked curiously. “Anders was swift to like you though.”

“Yeah, and so was Pounce!” 

There was no way. It can’t be.

“I wish to see your cat.” Fenris announced to Anders as he stood before the man’s apartment door. 

“…Why?” Anders put himself before the door frame, guarding the entrance. 

“I’m interested in cats.“

There was a flicker of interest in Anders’s eyes. “I…suppose you can come see him. I guess it’s not a bad sign if you want to see him even after he attacked you.” 

Anders let Fenris in and the elf searched for the orange tabby. Pounce was laying in the sunlight coming in through the window. Fenris only got a chance to kneel down beside him before Pounce woke and immediately got his claws into Fenris’s jeans. He immediately felt the sting in his knees…

Fenris came by again later that same week. This time he brought a cat treat for Pounce. He offered the food on the floor and tried to push the little treat closer. Pounce sniffed it for a moment but promptly ignored it. 

“Strange. He usually eats anything you give him,” Anders noted out loud, watching from behind the elf. Fenris tried pushing the treat in front of Pounce’s path again but before he could pull his hand away, Pounce, well, pounced. Well…at least he can make up a story to why his knuckles bled…

Fenris came by again by the start of the next week. This time, he handed Anders a box of pizza. “I had some from work. Brought it in case you were interested.” Fenris didn’t say more as he went to scan for the cat. Pounce was on the couch this time and watched the strange exchange between Anders and Fenris. 

“Um…thanks…?” despite the confusion, Anders didn’t want to complain about the free food and happily hummed as he started getting out a plate for himself. Fenris went over and knelt before Pounce who eyed the elf with intent. Carefully, Fenris slipped the treat before the cat. Pounce sniffed it before taking the treat into his mouth. After Pounce finished, Fenris offered his (bandaged up) hand to the cat. Pounce didn’t look aggressive. Taking that as a good sign, Fenris tried to pet the head like how Anders would do it. Before he even touched the fur, Pounce bit his finger. 

Fenris stopped by once again. This time, he handed Anders a new box of bandaids and a new bottle of disinfection. Both acting as a replacement for taking up all the supplies from Anders. Fenris found he was able to pet Pounce’s head today, but only for a moment. Pounce bit him again when he felt he was being pet for too long. 

Another day Fenris came by with nothing. But he did mention the silly cat shirt Anders wore was charmingly funny…in its own way. He caught a small smile from the mage, and Fenris found he was able to pet the cat’s head a bit longer than five seconds before he started hearing a growling sort of noise and he retreated his hand before he got attacked again. 

And that’s how it went. Fenris visited at the rate that it would be considered ‘often’ to a lot people. He would bring over food for himself and Anders sometimes. Anders seemed to always be hungry. One time he brought a movie that he felt Anders might enjoy (he did. It involved cats). Otherwise, he offered some words. Nothing too out there. Just a nice compliment here and there. “Why is your hair not up today? No, it is fine. But perhaps you should wear your hair down more often-if that is something you like,” “You make good cookies. The children would like them,” “No, keep the movie if you like it so much.” 

Slowly, Pounce seemed to accept his presence. Not completely, as even at Pounce’s most patient days, Fenris had walked out with a new scratch on his skin. Anders always apologized for them, even when there was nothing Fenris felt that needed to be apologized for. 

Finally, by the end of the month, Fenris was able to get his hand to start from the top of Pounce’s head and down his back without being attacked. 

“Hmm, wow, I think Pounce is warming up to you. Your effort is pulling through! I’m so happy that Pounce gets a new friend!” Anders sounded proud, as if Pounce was a child…

Fenris stood and went over to the kitchen counter were Anders was pouring tea for the two of them. “Did Hawke have as much trouble?” 

“Not really,” Anders flushed slightly, “Hawke is…Hawke. They’re a bit irresistible…” 

“…why Hawke?” Fenris dared to ask and Anders froze in mid-pouring. He stopped and put down the hot water as he eyed Fenris suspiciously. 

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. The cause of your temporary absence.”

Anders shrugged and went on to pour into the next cup. “What’s there to say? Hawke’s nice.” 

“Nice…”

“Nice,” Anders stressed. 

“…That’s it?” 

“What else do I need?” Anders put down the water and took out the teabags. 

Compassion, listening skills, supportive, probably at least likes cats, and appreciate each other’s interests, just to list a few. 

“I assumed more than just…nice.” Fenris replied with instead. 

Anders shrugged as he pushed a cup towards Fenris. “I can’t expect my lover to be perfect. No need to be picky. I don’t have much to offer anyway…and I know I’m annoying and such.”

Fenris swallowed, feeling more and more uncomfortable whenever Anders talked down on himself like that. “That is a dangerous mindset, Mage. Anyone can be nice. Many have for the sake of saving face.” 

“Yeah but you can usually tell when they want something in return or not. You eventually start to pick up that stuff. Hawke…Hawke’s kind. They…really listen to me…” 

Fenris felt his brow twitch. “Mage…has no one mentioned to you that you need to raise your standards?” 

“Why would they tell me that?”

Fenris had to resist smacking himself in frustration. “That aside, Mage. If you are so good at telling when someone’s trying to trick you, then what is my purpose for feeding you?”

“You want to see Pounce, what else?” Anders gestured to the cat. 

Fenris stared. “Why do you not assume I wish to see you?”

“Why would you want to see someone you hate?” 

“…Maybe you are not so hatable.” Maker it shouldn’t have come out so easily. But it did become rather difficult to hate someone who eagerly wanted his cat, never mind himself, to make a new friend. 

“Heh, right, sure. I’ll take that as a compliment.” 

“…you do not believe me.” Fenris stated matter of factly. 

Anders raised a brow. “You’re trying to convince me you do not hate me?”

“Should I try harder?”

“See!” Anders pointed with accusation, “You’re never serious with me! It’s always hatred or sarcasm!”

Fenris glanced over at Pounce. The cat looked like he was staring into his soul…

“I…did not mean offense. I apologize.”

“You…apologize…?” Anders looked away in discomfort. “I…that’s…nice of you…I guess…um…thanks…?” 

Fenris just hoped that Anders (possibly) believed him. For now. Mostly because Fenris could not remember why he hated this man anymore. 

Fenris wasn’t sure what to do. He had spent over a month seeing Anders and Pounce, most of that time spent trying to befriend the cat. It was meant to be an experiment, a way to put out the growing curiosity. He didn’t think Pounce would actually respond the way he did. Before he knew it, he got carried away with it. 

But now Anders seemed almost content being in the elf’s presence, excited even, on some days. He expressed a similar shy smile that he used to have when around Hawke. Fenris froze in his thoughts. Oh no…

Fenris ran his hands through his hair. Okay, so maybe there is a possibility he accidentally made Anders have more-than-friendship-based-feelings for him now but…a part of him felt he should still be liked beyond just being nice! Did he even do anything especially nice? Sure he knew he fed Anders on some days. There was also the minor compliments of course. There was the time he brought over a used, but large, jacket for Anders upon noticing Anders’s current one was getting too worn down. Fenris could’ve sworn Anders used the same jacket during winter and he was fairly confident the one he owned was warmer. It got difficult to get Anders to (eventually) accept it.

Okay so that was one nice thing he went out of his way to do. ONE! Or maybe two if one counted the time he shared his wine with Anders one night at the Hanged Man. 

This was trouble, and bad, and…probably something to be expected after all the acts he had done to appease Pounce. Or…appease Pounce for…Anders? Fenris wasn’t sure anymore. 

If there was anything he was sure about now it was that Anders didn’t eat enough. The only time he’s ever caught Anders with food was when he was the one giving Anders the food! He also knew Anders didn’t splurge on many luxuries except for the cat. Pounce was spoiled rotten. It wasn’t hard to notice the soft cat bed looked a bit too new in comparison to Anders’s mattress that looked like it was sagging from the one time Fenris went into the mage’s bedroom. Fenris also knew Anders cared (too much in Fenris’s opinion). There was always someone to help, always something to fight for, and always some poor animal to save from the rain. 

Just thinking about it felt like it was too much…But as Fenris felt his heart ache at the thought of Anders constantly moving through life like this, he knew he too cared a bit too much. Maybe he was more sure than he originally thought. 

Game night came once again, and Fenris waited outside the Hanged Man for Anders to arrive. He almost expected Anders to give a look of suspicion but…not as of late. If Pounce approved a person, it somehow spelled ‘good’ in Anders’s mind. When Anders arrived, he looked surprised, and then looked away with a tint of red on his face. Fenris felt the insides of his chest getting particularly warm as well. Maybe not enough things were said between them, but avoiding it now wouldn’t do. 

“Um…is there a reason you’re out here…?” Anders looked ready to enter, but Fenris didn’t budge from the entrance. 

“I was waiting for you.”

“…oh. Um…I’m here? What’s going on? Am I in trouble for being a big bad mage?” 

Fenris sighed and closed the distance between them. Anders stiffened as the other got closer. Fenris felt his heart pound a bit too loud for his liking, but he had a feeling Anders might be feeling it just as a bad. Or worse. With a shake of his head, Fenris tried to meet with Anders’s gaze. Anders only persisted to not look at him. Not wanting to push his discomfort, Fenris stopped and let a moment’s pause pass before speaking. “…Do you wish to have coffee with me sometime?” 

Anders’s head snapped up. “…What?” 

“Do you wish to have coffee with me sometime?” he repeated patiently. 

He could’ve sworn Anders’s face changed color as he tried to get out a response. “Wh-What?! Wait, a-are you inferring something? Wait, is this a joke? Because if it is, it’s not a very funny one you know!” 

“It is not a joke.”

Anders only folded his arms in disbelief. 

Fenris continued. “I…know I am not the most ideal-”

“What?!” Anders exclaimed, cutting in, “Fenris, you’re like one of the most desirable bachelors in all of Kirkwall!” 

Fenris blinked. This was news to him. Never less… “It does not change my question for you.” 

“…But you can do better than me!”  

“I fail to see how that relates to what you want in regards to my question.” 

Anders fell silent, looking rather torn. 

Fenris sighed again as his heart started to ache once more. “As I said…I know I may not be the most…ideal person. I have treated you badly, and I do not know if I ever truly apologized for it. I would not hold it against you for saying no. I am…prepared for it. You deserve someone who will treat you well.” 

“Not really…” Anders let out an empty laugh as his hand wiped at his eyes. “Heh…wh…what am I supposed to say to that, Fenris? I…I don’t know, I just…”

“Say whatever you fe-”

“It’s not that simple!” Anders suddenly exclaimed. “Of course I want to! I just…don’t want to disappoint you…Heh, I mean, I hear that I’m rather good at that! Disappointment. Being a mage does that you know. I often disappoint people without even having to open my mouth usually.”

“Well whoever suggested such a thing is wrong,” Fenris stated harshly. Anders dropped the forceful smile he just put on. “This is not about everyone else and they will think. It’s about you and your happiness, and whether or not you feel I am capable of helping in providing some of it. This is not about Kirkwall, or Hawke, or mages, or any of whatever you think has to do with who ‘deserves’ what! Just once, can you do that? For yourself?” 

Fenris wasn’t sure what kind of look Anders was giving him. He had never seen it before. The mage looked confused, and something else. Maybe he was in thought as he tried to decipher what was said. Fenris couldn’t blame him. He wasn’t sure if many people expressed such a thing to Anders before this moment. 

Anders fiddled with his hands, and looked away again. “I can…try.” Anders finally replied quietly. 

“That is all I ask from you. Regardless of how you wish to answer me. Just know that there is more to me than just simple acts of kindness. Believe me when I say: I may disappoint you before you could ever disappoint me.”  

“Never,” Anders shook his head. Fenris could see how much the mage genuinely believed that. “I think…one cup of coffee wouldn’t hurt.” And Fenris saw a small smile on the other’s face. 

It was almost a relief to Fenris. He never really saw himself as nice, but it was a rather good trait. And he could always show he had other qualities to like, at least, he had hoped he did. Like Anders, Fenris decided he had to at least try to bring those good qualities out. If not for his own sake, then for Anders’s. 

It was the least Fenris felt he could do for him. 

[plainclothesdisaster]

through the fog

adventure zone fic | read on ao3

Short meditations on what happened to Magnus directly before the static in his memories, and what happened directly after. Will probably be demolished by canon shortly, if it hasn’t been already.

---

Before.

Magnus picks at the memory of the days right after he returned to Raven's Roost like a scab.

He gets back to find his city abandoned. At the broken bridge where the craftsman corridor column once stood he falls to his knees. Through tears he looks to the wreckage far below, gnarled and scattered in the rocks, littered with ash from the firebombs. He doesn’t look for the splintered sign of the Hammer and Tongs. He doesn’t look for his tools shattered and broken in the crevices or his half finished carvings spread across the dirt. He doesn’t look for what else he knows is down there.

A soft voice comes from behind him.

“Magnus?”

He raises his eyes. A few stragglers with packs on their backs approach him. He doesn’t know the woman nor the two boys behind her by name, but he remembers them coming by the shop more than once. He remembers them coming out for the fight.

“What happened?” he manages to croak out.

“It was Kalen,” she says, “He came back, he-- he bombed the column seven nights ago.”

“And Steven? . . . Julia?”

The straggler shakes her head, blinking away tears.

Magnus swallows hard, something cold coming to rest in him where something warm once lived. “Everyone else?”

“Everyone fled. We couldn't know if Kalen would strike again on the other columns too. Not without, well, without you around.”

Magnus nods, a solemn gesture, and rises to his feet. He turns but she’s already gone. He feels a flash of remorse- he couldn’t help her- but, truly, he was already too late for that.

He cuts the horse loose from his cart and rides away, but not before reaching into the back and taking his chair, his stupid, beautiful chair, and hurling it over the edge.

///

Two towns over and he's at a bar, six beers in, asking about Kalen.

It's only taken him just shy of five days to catch up, following the trail of laid off mercenaries and Raven's Roost refugees scattered through the countryside.

The barkeep points across the room and Magnus turns over his shoulder. There in the corner, at the back of a crowd of ruffians and whores, sits Kalen. Laughing.

He downs the rest of his beer and rises to his feet, gripping the edge of the bar to keep himself from swaying. He'd never been much good at stopping himself from diving recklessly into dangerous situations, and had even less such reserve drunk and on less than two hours of sleep.

“Kalen.” Silence sweeps through the bar as he speaks the name. After all, he’d learned how to make his voice sound commanding. They lock eyes through the crowd.

Kalen smiles, his lips barely a sliver cut across his face. “So you lived after all. Can't say the same for the rest of your rebels.”

The cavalcade of thugs surrounding Kalen turn their attention toward Magnus. He watches as their dirty hands start to make fists and their dirty teeth start to form smiles and it doesn’t take anything more than that.

He punches clumsily, barely able to stay upright by this point. Still, the hit knocks the closest lackey a new one. He bloodies his knuckles as the man's nose erupts beneath them.

Kalen laughs behind the crowd as a chorus of shouts and jeers explodes through the tavern. Magnus hefts a stool at the next two goons approaching, bowling them back across the floor. He swings a fist to knock the fourth into a table, jabs a foot into the stomach of a fifth. The barkeep comes around and grabs his wrist but Magnus yanks it back and tosses him aside, perhaps with a bit too much force, but he doesn't care. The blood boils in his ears.

A scrawny guy jumps on his shoulders from behind. Magnus tosses him over the bar without looking. He storms toward Kalen, taking hits and giving them as he puts one foot in front of the other relentlessly, not even seeing the sea of thugs as he plows through them. He sees only the ashes of his home, only Kalen, laughing.

Magnus grabs for Kalen's disgustingly fancy robes when it hits him, a bottle to the face he didn't see coming. He reels back instantly, gripping his eye as a searing pain slices down his cheek.

First he feels the blood hot on his fingers. Then he feels the men grab him by the arms and drag him out the door. He rolls in the gravel street where the toss him, adding bruises to bruises.

He looks up through one eye to see Kalen, shrouded in golden light spilling from the pub door.

“Go home, Magnus,” he scoffs. “Oh, hmm, I guess you don't have one now, do you?”

The menagerie gathered at the door chuckles. Magnus feels his throat tighten.

“That's it then?” He jabs back, “You're just going to let me go, you coward?”

Kalen looks down his nose with a sneer that hits deeper than any of the punches.

“Oh don't be silly Magnus. I'm still going to kill you. Someday. But not now. That would be much too easy. For you.”

Kalen laughs again, each beat stabs Magnus like nails, and he goes back inside. The door shuts and Magnus is left alone in the dark.

He clutches his face in his hands, tears and blood a mess down his cheeks, curled up in the dirt, pathetic. He wants to shout but nothing comes out of his mouth, only breathless, silent sobs.

Stupid, stupid. He'd known he was outnumbered and outmatched in there. He'd known going after Kalen was suicide. He'd known and he'd done it anyway.

He wished Kalen had just finished it. He wished he were dead. He didn't want to kill Kalen, not really. He wanted Raven's Roost back. He wanted Julia back. He wanted this pain to end.

A warm hand on his shoulder catches him mid sob.

“You're hurt, friend, let me help you.” The voice is male, soft, entirely unexpected.

He nods, too beat to look up, too weak to protest.

On his feet again, he stumbles in a drunken daze, guided by unseen hands, into a warm, dark sitting room, lit only by a fire.

Slumped in a chair, hands offer him a wet cloth and guide him to press it to his face. It comes away bloody.

He closes his eyes. Feels the hands touch his bloodied knuckles, then his bruised sides. The pain begins to fade, the cuts start to close. Magic, he realizes. He was being healed.

The hands move the cloth at his face aside and reach toward his cheek but Magnus turns away.

“No. Leave that one,” he says, Kalen's sneering face still burning in his mind. “That one I need to remember.”

He looks up at the figure for the first time, blinking his one good eye into focus.

The figure pulls its hand away. Magnus sees a soft smile on his face, despite most of his features being shadowed by the hood of a bright crimson robe.

“Oh, Magnus. You will remember. You will.”

As if overtaken by fog, the room goes blurry, and then completely dark. On the moonbase, Magnus lies in bed, a cold sweat seeping into the sheets, wide awake.

///

After.

His name was Magnus Burnsides and he was walking toward Neverwinter.

He'd been on this road many times before, he knew that much. Where he'd been going or where he'd been coming from he didn't quite recall.

His name was Magnus Burnsides and he had an axe on his back, motley armor on his chest, a scar on his face. He'd been through fights. loads of them, he was sure. They came back to him slowly. He'd fought bullies at school. He'd punched riffraff at bars. He'd lead a rebellion. He'd loved a girl named Julia.

Julia. He nearly tripped over his feet. The wave of emotions that came with the name felt as raw as they did the day he lost her. That was good. That was something. That, at least, he'd never forget.

He thought maybe if he looked back, over his shoulder he might-- no. No. No, he knew he couldn't. Couldn't look back at whoever, whatever he was walking away from. His stomach twisted at the idea. But he didn't know why.

He felt his hand reach for the bandana around his neck. He looked down. Red.

Something about it felt right. Felt familiar.

In town he found his way to a tavern. He remembered how to do that much at least. He remembered how to order a beer. He remembered how to drink it.

He let the fog of the drink mix with the fog in his head. Tried to imagine it made it feel less unpleasant

“Hey. Big guy.”

He looked up. The barkeep was talking to him.

“Y-yeah?” He remembered how to speak. Just barely.

“You look pretty tough. You looking for a job?”

“I guess so. Sure.”

“Good. See, I suspect my rival barkeep across town of scammin’ our suppliers into upcharging me. I'm getting a rough and rowdy lookin’ crowd together to go see what's up. Nothing violent no, just enough to scare him straight.”

Was this... something he would do? Did Magnus Burnsides take questionable jobs from barkeeps with a certain knowing glint in their eye? He looked at the bottom of his cup. It didn't have the answers. He looked back at the barkeep.

“Who've you got so far?”

“Heh. Well, uh, that dwarf over there volunteered.” He pointed a meaty finger at a stubby old dwarf in a booth. He was flirting, very poorly, with the server girl. “Said he knew how to swing that hammer well enough. And uh, that elf.”

He tilted his head toward a slight figure perched on the last bar stool. It looked as if a stiff wind would blow him away, tattered robes and all.

Magnus raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Saw him doing some wizard shit that spooked some townie boys right good. He agreed to put on that little show again after I offered him three gold for the job.”

Ah, money. Did he even have any money? He patted his pockets discreetly, turned out a scant few coppers. “And does that offer stand for me as well?”

“Iffin it need to, it sure can.” He outstretched a hand to shake on it.

Magnus looked at the boys, looked at the barkeep and sighed. He was tired, or at least he thought he was, and could feel the edges of a headache creeping in quick. He couldn’t really remember what he was trying to do, but he knew the last thing thing he wanted was to get mixed up with a ragtag band of wayward folk just asking for trouble.

Still, he had this feeling that wouldn’t fade. Still, though he didn’t quite know why, he clasped the barkeep’s hand firmly, and shook.

“You've got yourself a deal.”