#hippo's drunken drabbles

[thievinghippo]

Spider Flower for Bethroot and Blackwall! :D

Josephine’s mother’s name is courtesy of servantofclio. Thank you Clio! And this got long, so it’s partially under a cut!

#

Maybe it was a mistake to host Josephine’s wedding to Lord Otranto at Skyhold. It made sense in Orlais. Have one last hurrah before starting the arduous task of disbanding the Inquisition. 

But when Josephine warned her just how exacting her mother will be, Bethroot simply shrugged it off and thought she could easily deal with it. She just stopped a qunari invasion and lost half her arm less than a month ago. 

How hard could planning one wedding be? 

That would be before she met Lady Eugenie Montilyet.

“Inquisitor! Inquisitor, where are you?” 

Bethroot might be a one-handed rogue these days, but she’s still a rogue. Keeping to the shadows, underneath the scaffolding to help with the decorations Lady Eugenie insisted on, she slips into Solas’s old room. 

She doesn’t have the heart to paint over his work, not even knowing that he means to kill everyone in Thedas. The simplicity is beautiful. 

But she can’t linger, not when Lady Eugenie is on the warpath. Bethroot wonders what’s wrong this time. Maybe they didn’t order enough appetizers or the color of the napkins are wrong. 

Whatever the complaint is, Bethroot doesn’t want to hear it, so she sneaks onto the ramparts. A moment later, she barges into Cullen’s thankfully empty office, and head down to the courtyard. 

There’s only one place where she knows she’ll be safe, thanks to Lady Eugenie’s fear of horses. Pretending she doesn’t have a care in the world - and she doesn’t, now that she’s escaped - and walks into the stables. 

Thom is sitting in a chair next to the fire pit, whittling a small toy of some sort. At her entrance, he stands. “And here I thought you’d be in meetings most of the day,” he says, putting his woodwork down on the bench. 

While they’re on ground level, there’s still always the chance of discovery. So Bethroot puts a finger to her lips and walks up the stairs into the loft. 

“I take it things went well,” Thom says as he follows her up the stairs. 

She walks to one of their spots, the one where he can sit against the wall and she can lean against him, both of them looking over the courtyard. An excellent place to watch in case Lady Eugenie is determined to find her. 

A moment later, her head is tucked under Thom’s chin as his arms are wrapped around her waist and all feels right with the world. 

There’s no healing or fighting in the courtyard right now, just dancers. Apparently the Montilyets always make a show of traditional Antivan dances during weddings, and this one will be no exception. 

“I’m just tired,” she says, gesturing towards the dancers. “Who knew a wedding could take this much work?” 

“Is this the type of wedding you’d want?” Thom asks, tightening the grip on her waist. 

Bethroot stills. They’ve never really discussed the idea of marriage. Trying for a child, yes, but getting married? It’s never come up. 

Maybe it should. 

“You’ve seen me at diplomatic functions. I’m not good at being on display,” Bethroot says. 

“I guess I’m more wondering if you want a wedding at all,” Thom says, and there’s a hesitation in his voice she hasn’t heard in years. “Not something we’ve really talked about, I know.” 

Bethroot turns in less than a heartbeat so that she’s on her knees, face to face with the man she loves. “Thom Rainier, did you just ask me to marry you?” 

Thom pushes a bit of hair out of her face - she had to cut it after the Exalted Council - and nods. “I suppose I just did.” 

Without thinking, Bethroot leans forward and kisses him hard, ignoring what an awkward position they’re in. Instead she focuses on his tongue gliding against hers and how he’s digging his fingers into her ass. 

When they break apart, Bethroot simply looks at Thom. There’s a touch of awe in his face, one that she’s sure is mirrored in her own. 

“Is that a yes?” he asks. 

Bethroot can only nod and kiss him again. She will never tire of kissing him. Ever.

“We’re going to get married,” Thom says softly, with a slight chuckle, deep from his chest. 

“We’re going to get married,” Bethroot repeats. What wonderful words. “But I don’t want a wedding.” 

Now that the idea is in her head, she wants to figure out some details. “Something very, very small, and maybe we keep things to ourselves a bit. I don’t want to steal Josephine’s spotlight.” 

Thom tilts his head. “How quickly do you want to get married?” he asks, sounding amused. 

One thing Bethroot is good at is planning. One of the reasons why she made an excellent negotiator back in her Carta days. She also doesn’t like to wait when she’s made a decision. Another excellent trait.

“Let’s find Sera, Varric, and Mother Giselle,” Bethroot says. “We can be married in an hour.” 

Sera’s here for the upcoming fun at Josephine’s wedding, though under strict instructions to leave the nobles alone. Varric and Bethroot have so many business investments at this point, they might as well be family. 

“I fucking love you,” Thom says, bringing her back into his arms for a kiss. 

Bethroot happily kissed him back. “I love you, too,” she says, standing up. She holds out her hand. “Now let’s go get married.” 

[theherocomplex]

guess who’s back  back again  Hippee’s back  tell a friend 

To celebrate Valentine’s Day, @thievinghippo​ and I are going to do Drunken Drabbles/Ficlets, which means starting at 8pm ET/7pm ET, we will take prompts and also drink and see what happens! 

I am happy to write for: 

Dragon Age (Zev/Warden. FenHawke, any combination of Merrill/Isabela/Hawke, Handers, Solavellan, Pavellan, Blackwall/Inquisitor)

Mass Effect (Shakarian, Shrios, Shiara, Shali) 

Horizon Zero Dawn 

The Arcana 

When the Night Comes 

Castlevania 

The Untamed

My D&D characters (Ruby Nightflower, Keder, Reverence’s Thorn, Tharion Oakbrook)

...and the prompt list we’re using may be found here! So hit me and Hippo up with all your sappy, yearn-y fic prompts! My askbox is here, and anon is off! 

...it’s gonna be great. Happy Valentine’s Day, friends! <3

[inkstainedfanfics]

To Spot a Friend Drabble

Request: I absolutely loved To Spot a Friend so I was wondering if you could do a part 2 where Theo finds them having brunch or something in a coffee shop and he's insanely drunk and since no one else is in there and the barista is working in the back he goes to grab the reader or something and Newt hexes him and maybe obliviates him?

Word Count: 1,197

Pairing: Newt x Reader

Requested by @h-leighton

Part 1   |   Part 3

You’re used to it now. You’re used to going out in public and not being recognized or shouted at or attacked by camera flashes. You’re used to hearing people on radios talk through conspiracy after conspiracy about what happened to you (The greatest singer of her time vanishes, nothing left behind by a heartbroken manager and a few records worth of music. The reason? Experts say a possible alien abduction. Tune in at nine). You’re used to wearing loose clothing and your hair down again and choosing what you want to do when you want to do it.

It’s a miracle, really. A whole year without any sort of recognition. Impossible. Yet here you sit, in the middle of coffee shop just off the streets of New York and not one person has stopped to speak with you. The other two people in the shop leave without even a second glance your way.

You once again want to thank Newt as he sits across from you, handing you a cup of coffee, but you’ve said it so often he just waves it off now. You’re intent on saving the words now, using them when you honestly mean it.

“So,” you question after taking a sip of your coffee, “what sort of authory things are you planning today?”

Newt grins at your made-up word. “Drinking tea and pondering the meaning of the universe.”

“Oh, so quite the packed schedule, then?”

“Quite.”

You snatch a donut ball from the plate in front of him. The buttery donut melts in your mouth. Newt’s raised eyebrow and amused grin makes you laugh.

“Careful you don’t choke, love.”

You swallow the final crumbs. “Why don’t you buy me any? Do I only deserve the croissants?”

“You help yourself anyway.” Still, he reaches out and slides both of your plates in the middle of the table, in easy reach for either of you. You’re beaming as you pick up another donut ball and pop it into your mouth. Life is so much better than it was before.

Newt takes a sip of his tea. “So would you like to stop by the zoo today?”

You perk up at this. “Really?”

He nods. “I don’t see why we can’t stop by. I’ve finished my research here.” He reaches for a croissant. “I know you’ve wanted to visit it.”

“They have hippos here. They’re the –“

“Most underrated creatures. Yes, I know. I’ve heard it said a few times.”

You roll your eyes over the rim of your glass as you take another drink. The bells over the door behind you ring. Another customer. You’re glad; this little shop deserves business. The owner is nice and it’s cheap to eat here. You and Newt have spent the past five days in New York eating here.

Newt, though, stiffens when he looks over your shoulder. Curious, you turn around.

Just like that, your past catches up with you, and you can’t breathe.

Theo blinks at you, something like recognition slowly dawning on his face. You recognize the drunken stagger in his step, the plain fury building in the hard set of his jaw, the decision he makes in a split second as he starts your way.

Newt begins to stand, only stopping when you rest a hand on his arm and shake your head. You pray he’ll go away himself, that he’ll think he was mistaken.

“So, you come back.” His deep voice makes you shiver, memories of nights after shows returning.

“I don’t know what you mean.” You keep your voice even. He can’t know you’re trembling inside or he’ll use it against you.

“Ha.” The laugh is sharp, a grating sound that has Newt reaching for his wand. “Darling, I’d recognize you anywhere.” His voice softens as he shuffles forward. “My moneymaker.”

“Go away, Theo. I have a new life now.” Your voice wavers on the last word, though, and Theo notices it.

“With who? That rat of a man? Who’s he to you? A lover? Just using you for your voice, I bet.”

Anger flares in you, eating the echo of fear that Theo still manages to evoke. “Like you were?”

“At least I was honest about it. I didn’t knock you off the face of the earth, steal you from someone else. You were a nobody before me. A nothing. You had so much potential, so much of a chance with me.” He sways in his spot. “I could have been rich next to you, but you threw it all away. For what? Him?”

Your hands begin to tremble as the rage Theo works himself up to becomes all too visible. “This isn’t any of your business anymore. Get out of here.” The words are a demand, a final sentence to the ghost of your past. You’re surprised at the strength of the tone but clench your jaw and stare him down.

A mistake.

“You ungrateful bitch.” Theo lunges forward.

You can barely flinch as a flash of red shoots just over your shoulder.

Newt’s on his feet before Theo even thuds to the ground.

You can feel the tears on your cheeks as you curse yourself. It took Newt to save you again. Will you ever be good enough to live without anyone helping you?

Damn it. Damn it all. You shudder, sobbing into your hands. You can’t do it. You can’t do this. Your past is still following you, still haunting you despite the past year away. You wipe at the tears with shaky hands, wondering if you’ll ever truly escape. With Theo here, you’ll always be on the run, always trying to stay away from him and his tricks. Oh Merlin, it’ll never be over, never be fully gone.

Newt crouches next to Theo, wand raised.

“Newt, let’s go. Newt, come on.”

He doesn’t stand, though, doesn’t even look at you as he starts moving his wand, jaw clenched, body stiff.

You realize halfway through the spell just what he’s doing.

“Newt, no. Stop.” You wrench yourself from your seat, grabbing his arm and sending the memory charm to break open the wall.

His face is a mixture of confusion and anger. You gulp as you realize the anger is on your behalf, an instinct for protecting you.

More tears well up in your eyes. “You can’t do that?”

He nods once. “Why not?”

“It’s not right.”

He takes a deep breath, softening at the terror in your eyes. “He doesn’t deserve to know you.”

You stare down at the unconscious man. You’d known him so intimately for so long. He hadn’t always been the way he is now. He’d once cared, once actually loved you. Somewhere deep inside of the both of you are good memories.

But now… Newt’s right.

You steel yourself. “Go ahead.”

Newt doesn’t say another thing as he raises his wand.

Tears slide down your face, some from fear, some from grief, some from Newt’s protective streak. You’re a wreck, and Newt helps you up once he finishes the spell.

He says nothing, just rubs circles on your back and lets you lean against him as the two of you leave the tiny store.

[thievinghippo]

Eglantine - A wound to heal, Spring, Poetry for ines ryder please

“Was that a heroic enough exit?” Ryder asks. Her words are slurring, but maybe Suvi won’t realize. “Stuff of legend?” 

“Ryder,” Suvi says, her hand gripping her waist more tightly. “Ryder, what’s wrong?” 

Okay, so maybe Suvi will notice. It’s nice to have a girlfriend that notices these things. Ryder wants to look back, to see if the crowd on Meridian can see them, but that feels like it will take way too much effort. 

So instead she grips Suvi’s hand. “I think I’m gonna pass out.” 

And she does.

#

“Tea?”

Ryder cranes her neck just enough to see Suvi walk up beside her. She doesn’t particularly want tea, but if Suvi made two cups, she’s certainly not going to waste any. 

“Sure,” Ryder says, pulling the blanket more tightly around her shoulders. 

Lots of fresh air and no remnants. That’s all that Lexi prescribed after Ryder’s unfortunate bout of eye closing. At least that’s what Ryder is calling it. Fainting? Never. Just resting her eyes at an inopportune time.

Only a few days have passed since the Hyperion crashed into Meridian. A few intense days where Ryder should be making decisions and trying to organize things and basically be in the center of everything. 

But instead she’s here. In a small wooded area that Suvi found, far from the main hub on Meridian. 

“How’s the head?” Suvi asks as she hands Ryder the bulb of tea.

The warmth of the bulb quickly spreads through her hands. Meridian is colder than she likes. Not quite the paradise like Aya. But it’ll do. 

“It’s still attached to my head,” Ryder says, taking a sip of tea. Simple English Breakfast, not one of Suvi’s fancier blends, thank goodness. “I’d like to consider that an accomplishment.”

“You would,” Suvi says, as she sits down next to Ryder. “And what about what’s inside your head?” 

That’s a different story altogether. Lexi’s not sure, but she thinks it would be impossible to ever remove SAM. Ryder’s doesn’t know how she feels about that yet, so she’s packed it away for later. Maybe never. She’s not picky. 

“Doing fine,” Ryder says, lacing hers and Suvi’s fingers together. She doesn’t feel the need to mention the headaches. Not now, not when they have a moment to themselves. “Meridian is a nice place to heal.” 

“Do you think it might be a nice place to call home?” Suvi asks. Ryder just smiles as Suvi stills beside her. “I mean for humanity, of course.” 

“I think it will be a wonderful home for us, too,” she says, resting her head on Suvi’s shoulders. 

She has fresh air, tea, and Suvi. She’s home.

[thievinghippo]

"Wallflower - Fidelity in misfortune or adversity" FOR WYNNETH AND ANDERS?! This prompt just seemed too perfect for them.

“There are days when I think you’re better off without me, love,” Anders says, his voice quiet. 

Wynneth bites the inside of her cheek to keep from saying anything she might regret. He’s not the one who just escaped from the Templars yet she’s comforting him, not the other way around. 

Sod it, she needs to say something. 

“You know, Anders,” Wynneth says as she tries to ignore the pain in her side, “there are times I think you forget I’m also a mage. Even if we weren’t together, I would still be fighting by your side.” 

“A bloody good mage, too,” he says as he dabs at the wounds on her face. It’s her face that hurts the most, where she took most of the blast of the makeshift bomb that helped her escape the Chantry where she found herself trapped. 

“But not at healing,” she says with a pout. Anders doesn’t even try to protest. “How bad?” 

His free hand goes to her cheek, the one cheek that escaped most of the shrapnel. “There are going to be scars. Down the road, maybe, I can try to heal them, but now?” 

“There’s no time,” Hawke says, interlacing her fingers with his. Time never does seem to be in their favor. But now? While the war between the mages and Templars rages on, even during talk of a cease-fire in the form of a conclave. There’s never enough bloody time. “Well, good thing I never was much of a beauty.” 

“You’re absolutely gorgeous, Hawke,” Anders says. 

She’s not, and she knows it. The twins inherited Leandra Hawke’s classic good looks while Hawke took the ruggedness of her father. More than three years on the road now have brought out a sharpness to her face she hardly recognizes herself when she passes the rare mirror. And now to add facial scars? 

But the way Ander looks at her, like she’s the brightest thing in his world, she can almost see what he sees.

[thievinghippo]

Daffodil for Bethroot and Blackwall

Rainier hoped their last day at Skyhold would have been sunny.

Instead the clouds overhead seem almost oppressive and the wind, cruel. They’ve had to tie down their trunks to ensure that none will fall off the wagon as they head down the mountains. He’s not looking forward to sitting out in the elements as they leave the area.

Only a handful of people are left in Skyhold. The mages have all relocated to Redcliffe, the majority of forces released from service or returned to their original patrons. Even all of the servants are gone, Bethroot taking the time to write out letter after letter of recommendation, to help them all find new positions.

Rainier wonders who will claim the fortress for their own after the Inquisition formally relinquishes it’s hold. Surely someone will try to set themselves up as lord of the Frostback Mountains. Or perhaps Ferelden or Orlais will try to sneak in and expand their territory before the other country notices.

Whatever Skyhold’s future brings, Rainier won’t be a part of it any longer.

Seems strange to think that. Skyhold’s been his home for almost four years now, the longest stretch he’s had in his adult life. His time in the Orlesian army was spent chasing after the next promotion and never settling down. Back then he was content to sleep in the barracks, close to the men and women under his command, hoarding his gold as best he could, never having enough.

“We just need the Inquisitor and we’ll be on our way,” Josephine says quietly. Next to her stands her husband, Adorno, his fingers curled into the fabric at her waist. Rainier didn’t quite understand why Lady Montilyet was willing to enter an arranged marriage, but it seems to have worked out for the two of them. And anyway, who is he to judge someone else’s choice.

“I suppose that means I should find her,” Rainier says.

He already knows exactly where she is; he saw her sneak into the barn not too long ago. The stables have been empty for weeks. Rainier can admit he misses the horses and especially misses the steady companionship of Horse Master Dennet.

His wife - and he will never tire of calling her that - has been quiet these past few days. Whenever Bethroot is quiet, there’s always a small part of him that worries. He’s grown so used to her talking about everything and anything under the sun, that when she chooses to keep her thoughts to herself, something feels off.

This quiet, though, he understands. She’s disbanded everything she’s built over the past four years. Not to mention the threat of bloody Solas lurking behind every piece of news they receive across the southern continent.

He can see her silhouette as he enters the barn. Bethroot is sitting on the stairs leading up to the loft. Before he even enters her line of sight, she asks, “It’s time?”

“Yes.”

When he stands before her, he’s not sure of what to expect. Will she be sad? Resigned? For what it’s worth, Rainier’s looking forward to a bit of an adventure. Bethroot gave away most of the Inquisition’s funds away to those leaving its service, leaving hardly any for herself. They won’t have much coin, and for someone once so controlled by gold, it’s absolutely liberating.

To his relief, she’s smiling. Not broadly, but enough that Rainier believes it’s real.

Bethroot glances up towards the loft. “How many times do you think we had sex up there over the years?”

Rainier holds out his hand. “I don’t think I can count that high, Bethy.”

She laughs, just like he hopes, and places her hand in hers. “We’ll have to find new places, won’t we?” she asks.

“I can show you a few of my old favorites in Markham,” he says.

Markham. Hard to believe he’s going back there by choice. But he and Bethroot want to tour the Free Marches a bit, see what sort of good they can do, before taking Varric up on his offer of a home in Kirkwall.

He must admit, he’s looking forward to introducing Bethroot to his cousins and the few aunts and uncles that are still in town. Perhaps they’ll have time to explore a few of his old haunts.

“I just… It’s hard to believe this day is finally here,” Bethroot says, squeezing his hand.

“Better days ahead, I think,” Rainier says, truly meaning the words. There’s a sense of freedom with the Inquisition disbanded. He and Bethroot can go wherever they want, do whatever they want. Solas, that bastard, still remains a threat, but they can still have a life of their own. Start a family of their own.

Bethroot nods and stops just as they leave the barn doors. She looks back and Rainier does, too. His woodworking table’s still there, though his tools are packed safely away. His chair in front of the fire. Four years, this had been home.

“Better days ahead,” she repeats, her voice full of promise.

She takes a breath and starts walking towards the wagon. Rainier matches her step by step and neither one of them look back.

[thievinghippo]

Daffodil, RNG please?

Daffodil - Sebastian and Hawke (friendmance)

“So this is Starkhaven,” Hawke says as she clutches her cloak around her a bit more tightly. She’s not in the mood to be recognized, not tonight. Not when she and Sebastian have traveled the last five days on foot, walking from Kirkwall. 

Her feet bloody hurt.

“So this is Starkhaven,” Sebastian repeats. 

His hand around hers almost feels like a vice, but it’s far more comforting than not. “We’re here, what’s next?” she asks. 

All she wants is to slip under the covers of a bed. Any bed will do at this point. But she’s married to the Prince of Starkhaven and like it or not, there are protocols to be followed. 

“We’ve got to make a choice, Hawke,” Sebastian says softly. 

A choice. She’s sick of making bloody choices, especially when it seems like all she does is make the wrong ones lately. What good was it to support the Templars when Meredith simply turned on her anyway? And what good was it to accept the title of Viscount when the nobles would run her off less than three months later. 

“I’ll trust any choice you make,” she says softly, wanting only to be held. But the chances of that happening are slim. Wherever they go, there will be eyes who don’t understand that simply holding each other doesn’t lead to anything more. Not with them. 

“Palace or Chantry, that’s the choice,” Sebastian says. He closes his eyes and just like her, he looks so tired. His hair has grown out, along with his beard. And wearing plain traveling clothes, his armor packed away, he looks completely different than the man she married years ago. 

But then again, so does she, with her once shoulder length hair shorn close to her head. Anything that will keep people from seeing Hawke, the betrayer of mages everywhere, or whatever it is they’re calling her these days. 

“Do we need the goodwill of your family?” Hawke asks, cutting to the heart of the matter. 

She never asked to be a princess, and that’s not what she expects coming to Starkhaven. The Chantry’s asked for their help, and their help they will get. 

Sebastian shakes his head. “I’d like to see them, but it doesn’t have to be tonight.”

“Then I think we’ve answered the question,” Hawke says. 

They stand at the edge of the main bridge that will take them into the main part of the city. Towering over the city is the Chantry, a watchful eye over everyone. It will be comforting to be a part of the place. 

Sebastian brings her gloved hand to his lips. “We’ll be safe here,” he says quietly. 

Hawke thinks of the chaos around Thedas and somehow doubts that will be true. But for tonight? She squeezes her husband’s hand and adjusts the shield on her back. Tonight as they start their new life, she’ll pretend that he’s spoken true.

[thievinghippo]

Daffodil for Sith/Pirate!

This is new beginnings for Andronikos and Denravi! This got long, so it’s partially behind a cut. :D

#

“Think we should pick their pockets?” Revel says, looking down at the dead idiots who called themselves the Veil. Why would anyone challenge his girl and think they could live to tell the tale?

“You’re welcome to,” Devravi says, rolling her shoulders. “But I will pass.”

Revel lets out a chuckle as he holsters his blasters. Denravi killed all three of the Veil members without him even needing to take a shot. He’s just about to compliment her when he sees her staring glassy-eyed into the distance. 

His stomach clenches; that look means a ghost or two is currently badgering her. Fucking frustrating how he can’t kill a ghost. Or even see the bastards. All he needs is one shot…

“Sith?” he says, trying to bring her back from wherever she just went. 

Denravi shakes her head and looks over at him. She really does look so much healthier after Belsavis. Until she stepped out of that machine, he didn’t realize just how bad things had gotten. Now hopefully their upcoming trip to Voss will help just as much. 

“Sorry about that,” Denravi says as she looks down at the bodies, wrinkling her nose. “Should we tell someone?” 

“Nah, just tell your cult. They might want to strip the cybernetics. Those might be worth something,” Revel says, reaching for her hand. “Now let’s get out of here. I promised you a night out, and I keep my promises.” 

The smile that crosses her face is the one that always makes his knees feel like jelly, not that he will ever tell her that. It’s the smile that made him ask if she wanted to get married not too long ago. 

Part of him is still a little amazed she said yes. 

But the other part knows that the two of them are destined to be together, no matter what the damn galaxy decides to throw at them. And so far, the galaxy has decided to throw them a lot. 

They walk out of the cargo room, his arm around her shoulders, her arm around his waist. Now he’s got to rack his brain, because he’s not exactly sure where they should go.

As they enter the promenade, Revel’s eyes dart around, always looking for trouble. When no one seems to be paying attention to them, he says, “What do you say we head to the casino and pretend to be high-rollers for a couple of hours?” 

He does a damn good job of keeping Denravi’s finances in good shape, if he says so himself. They can afford to blow some credits on a gaming table if they want to. Might be fun to get a private booth and see what sort of trouble they can get into. 

His girl, it seems, has different ideas. 

Denravi stops walking. It takes a step or two before Revel realizes she’s no longer holding his hand. She’s staring again, but not the one where ghosts are talking to her. 

He follows her gaze to the Nar Shaddaa’s Clerk Office. The office is more like a store-front, with big glass windows and a ridiculous list of services. Not sure why she’d be looking there. “What, you want to finally register your cult?” he asks. 

“Not exactly what I was thinking,” Denravi says as she walks up to one of the lists. She points at one, that damn smile of hers sneaking up on him again.

Marriage licenses/ceremonies

Revel doesn’t hesitate. He’s not an idiot. With those ghosts in her head, she could die any day. But fuck it, if she does, she’ll die being married to him, not just engaged. 

“Should have known you wouldn’t want a big, fancy wedding,” Revei says, walking up to her. Even though they’re in the middle of the promenade, he puts his arms around her, resting his brow against hers. “You sure about this, Sith?” 

He’s not sure why he’s asking. He knows she’s all in, just like him. But even a space pirate needs a little bit of reassurance now and then. 

“As sure as I breathe,” she whispers and that’s enough for him.

“Then let’s get married,” Revel says, trying to keep the smile off his face. He does have a reputation to protect, after all. 

A bored looking Nautolan sits behind the counter. “Can I help you?” 

“How quickly can you get us hitched?” Revel says, squeezing Denravi’s hand. 

She looks Denravi then looks at Revel. “Depends on how quickly you can fill out the datawork,” she says, sliding a datapad across the counter. 

Revel picks up the pad and together, he and Denravi have it filled out within two minutes. “Done,” Denravi says, handing the datapad back. 

“You want the pomp and circumstances?” the clerk asks. She nods at a room to their left. “I’ve got fake flowers and a veil, if you want them. Might still be a couple of rings.” 

“I think we’ll pass,” Denravi says. She looks up at him. “I don’t think I need to deal with another veil right now.” 

Revel huffs out a laugh. Now he knows she’s feeling better if she’s making dumb jokes. “So what’s next?” he asks the clerk.

The clerk looks at him. “Do you want to marry her?” 

“Yeah, I do,” Revel says, looking at Denravi. Only person in the world he’ll ever want to marry. 

“And do you want to marry him?” the clerk asks Denravi. 

“I do,” Denravi says, her voice soft. 

“Then the terms of bonding are now complete. You may now kiss.” 

Well, Revel doesn’t need to be told twice. He brings Denravi into his arms and kisses her like they have all the time in the world. Which they don’t, but tonight he’ll let himself believe it. 

“That’ll be one thousand credits,” the clerk says. 

Denravi starts to laugh and Revel can’t help but join in a bit. Just seeing Denravi happy and healthy and now his wife is a little more than even he can handle. 

Revel finds a spare credit chit in his pocket and puts in the amount, with even a tip for the service. “Thanks for the assist,” he tells the clerk. Then he looks at his wife. His wife. “Let’s get out of here, huh?”

Once they’re back on the promenade, Denravi asks, “Do you feel any different? I can’t quite tell.” 

“Nah,” Revel says, taking her hand. A couple of spoken words and a form on a datapad isn’t going to really change things. He thinks. “However, we need to change our plans for tonight.” 

“Oh really?” Denravi asks, amusement on her face. 

Revel starts to lead them to one of the nicer parts of Nar Shaddaa. “We need to find ourselves a hotel,” he says, walking just a bit faster. “Time to celebrate our wedding night.”