#i only care about daeran now

[zazrichor]

I'm currently playing through the Pathfinder series and I have to say, I am obsessed. Aster is my Kingmaker OC, Phesolis is my Kingmaker General/Baroness of Varnhold, and Zinnia is my WotR OC. Zinnia and Aster are chaotic siblings.

[rivilu]

The more I think about the story through Daeran's pov the more insane i go. btw.

[arendaes]

Owlcatober Day One - Teatime

My first entry for @owlcatober 2024! This particular piece is part of a larger headcanon involving Galfrey's attempts to convince Ariadne and Daeran's daughter Silaena to become her heir (and ultimately her decision to abdicate the throne in favor of Chancellor Irahai.) Anyways, this mostly just a silly fluff piece about that first attempt.

Great Expectations, or Some Other Such Nonsense

Fandom: Pathfinder Wrath of the Righteous

Rating: Gen

Warnings: none

Relationship: Implied Commander/Daeran/Woljif

Characters: Queen Galfrey, The Commander, Original Child Characters

Can also be read on AO3 here

Silaena was seven years old when she first became aware the Queen wanted something from her.

It was early afternoon in midsummer, and she and Marius had been sent to their playroom so they weren’t underfoot. A fine carriage had rolled up to the house shortly after lunch, and judging by the look on Mama’s face, whoever it was wasn’t supposed to be here. She’d sent them away with Marja, who chattered happily and held their hands in a vice grip, clearly trying to distract them from the tantalizing mystery of who had their normally calm and composed mother in such a tizzy.

Silaena and Marius were not the type of children to take such a thing as being sent away from the excitement easily. Indeed, the gears had already been spinning in her mind as she sat in front of her tea set, arranging the cups and plates to suit her taste. Perhaps she would insist on real refreshments for once. Marja was famously weak-willed when it came to them. But it turned out that there was no need, for no sooner than she had opened her mouth to ask than a knock, firm but polite, sounded at the playroom door.

Marja bustled over, then uttered a loud cry and dropped into a hasty curtsy when she saw who was on the other side. "Y-your Majesty!"

Through the door walked the Queen. Silaena knew she was the Queen because Mama had told her so. Her portrait hung in the dining room, and during her phase of asking any and every question that popped into her mind. It occurred to her to ask one day over lunch, when both Daddy and Papa were busy and only Mama was around. That last part was important, because even at this young age she had a suspicion that either one of them might have said something different. Probably something bad, but Mama wasn’t much in the mood for jokes that day.

"That's the Queen," she said simply, not looking up from buttering the crumpet in front of her. As she swiped strawberry jam across it, she added, "She's your...our cousin, I guess."

That didn't seem right to Silaena, because she knew what cousins were, and to her knowledge none of her parents had siblings. But then Mama had popped the crumpet in her mouth and she was far too indignant to push the matter further - that was her crumpet Mama was supposed to be buttering, after all!

Now here they were, just a few weeks later. She regarded the Queen coolly. She looked nothing like Mama and Papa, being that they were tieflings and she was not, so that only left Daddy to be related to her. But she was fair where Daddy was dark, and her golden hair didn't seem to glow like his did. How could this woman be a relative of theirs?

"Hello, children," the Queen said, coming to a stop at the head of the table. She clasped her hands in front of her and smiled down at them, looking everything like a Queen should. Silaena didn't trust her one whit, and glancing at Marius, she could tell her brother felt much the same. "My name is Galfrey, and I'm -"

"You're the Queen," Silaena said, without preamble. Marja gasped behind her, looking a mixture of abashed and horrified, but the Queen's smile didn't falter.

"Yes, I'm the Queen. And your cousin, as it turns out." Galfrey was careful to hold Silaena's gaze as she said that last part, not even daring a glance at Marius. It bothered her for reasons she wouldn't be able to parse until she was older. "Might I join your tea party?"

Why the Queen wanted to join a tea party where no actual tea was being served mystified her, even at the time, but let it never be said their parents didn't teach them manners. They just taught them to be selective with them, and this seemed like one of those times to put them on display.

"Of course," she said with a nod, carefully picking up the giant rabbit seated next to her. Doctor Mochi would just have to sit this party out.

"Thank you." Galfrey made an admirable show of sitting down on the chair, but all the grace in the world couldn't change the fact it was meant to seat children or stuffed animals, not a full-grown person. Even Mama usually went in favor of the floor. As she got to work pouring her a cup of not-tea, she said, "There is something I wanted to discuss with you, Silaena."

Try as she might to be her father's daughter, Silaena couldn't help but feel nervous at this. She was only seven! Whatever the Queen wanted to talk to her about probably couldn't be good. Still, as she set the cup down in front of the Queen, she nodded slowly. From across the table, Marius watched them hawkishly, his tail twitching every so often in a way that betrayed his own discomfort.

"You love your family very much, don't you?" It was a straightforward question, and one that took her completely aback.

"Yes!" she said without a second thought, eyes bright. She grinned at her brother, who didn't look happy at all. "Mama and Daddy and Papa are so much fun, and Marius is my best friend!"

It was hard for Silaena to understand the expression on Galfrey's face. She smiled, something she always thought people only did when they were happy, but her eyes were also sad. "I'm sure he is," she said softly, glancing back down at the tiny, empty teacup she held pinched between two fingers.

"Do you have a best friend?" Silaena asked, thinking perhaps that was the reason the Queen looked so sad. Maybe talking about her friend would help.

"It's...been a while since I had someone I could consider my best friend," Galfrey responded, brows furrowed as she glanced away momentarily. When she turned back, her smile had returned, albeit smaller, not as bright than before. "Perhaps you'd like to help me with that?"

Now it was Sileana's turn to scowl, though hers was in confusion. Before she could ask why the Queen would want a seven-year-old as best friend, there was a hurried rustling from the door. They all turned to see Mama walking into the room, her hands bunched into fists at her side and her normally full lips pressed into a thin line.

"Galfrey," Mama said, her voice tight, tail lashing behind her so fast there was an audible whooshing sound. The only other time she had seen her mother so agitated was when Daddy accidentally ruined some of her plants with one of his pranks in the garden. It was a rare sight indeed, and true to her nature, she found she was more curious than scared of her mother's wrath.

"Countess, I assure you there is no cause for concern. I merely wished to have a conversation with your daughter about the matter."

"A conver - she's seven, Galfrey! She won't even understand what you're going on about!"

"What are you going on about?" Silaena asked. Both women whipped their heads to look down at her again, and she had to smother her giggle at Mama's cross look. This must be why her parents were always giving each other such a hard time - it was fun!

The Queen shot her mother a triumphant look, then said, "The reason I decided to visit today was to see if perhaps you'd like to visit me in the capital on occasion. With you mother in tow, naturally." The last part was directed at Mama, clearly intending to soothe her. It didn't work - if anything, Mama seemed even more furious.

"She's too young, Galfrey. Why couldn't this have waited a few more years?" 

That made her a little bit angry. Mama had never implied she was too young for anything before, so why start now?

"Yes, I want to go!" she blurted out before the Queen could say anything else. She instantly regretted it - her mother's face fell so quickly, anger dissipating and hurt taking its place so quickly that she almost felt ill.

"Excellent," Galfrey said, though her tone suggested otherwise. She glanced at Mama, softly adding, "I'll take care of all the accommodations, and you're free to accompany her the entire time Counte...Ariadne. I promise to show you that your reservations are unfounded."

With that, the Queen nodded at her and Marius and then left the room. When she was gone, Mama sank to the ground in front of their table. She looked so lost and sad, reaching out to toy with the teacup the Queen had abandoned. After a moment of indecision, Silaena walked over and wrapped her arms around her mother. Instantly she was grabbed, pulled into an embrace so tight and fierce she almost panicked. The tears she could feel on her neck didn't help.

"I'm sorry, Mama," she whispered, unsure of what to do. How did a child comfort their parent, instead of the other way around?

"No, I'm sorry," Mama said, pulling back and wiping the tears from her eyes. She tried to smile, but it was neither convincing nor reassuring. "I shouldn't have tried to take your choices from you. I should have known how you'd react - you are your father's daughter, after all."

That was all that was said on the matter. Mama joined them for the rest of the tea party, seeming to cheer as more time passed. A few months later, she and Silaena did indeed go to the capital for a week, where they stayed in the Queen's palace. They were forced to attend every function the Queen did, and at the end of their stay when Galfrey invited them back, Silaena took the liberty of turning her down with a blunt “no” that only a child could get away with.

While that was far from the end of it, the smile on Mama's face as they drove away from the flustered Queen still warms her heart to this day.

[chaosteddybear]

Owlcatober Day 4!

(art by @dmagedgoods, writing below the cut by me). Sphinx I am SO IN AWE of your art always. And damn, Mix and Daeran look so good done by you 🤭

"That's great, now pull your elbow back.."

Daeran was not getting the hang of it, nor did he care to, but he chose to entertain Mix's proposal to teach him archery anyway for the perks.

Mix paused to admire Daeran's neck through the golden hair brushing against his cheek and lips. He let out a warm him, his chest vibrating with warmth into Daeran's back.

"I cannot help but wonder if I might be more successful with a less distracted teacher." Daeran's eyes sparkled with self satisfaction as he nudged Mix with his hips jovially.

Mix's hum turned into a low, playful growl as he reached his fingers across the aasimar's forearms and traced his muscles to ensure the correct ones activated as he pulled the bow taught.

"He does not care for this, Mesclavete. You're wasting both of your time," Salvadore teased with too much honesty, his tone even but his eyebrows risen as he watched the two with an interest much more powerful than he would let show. The tea in the cup he held just in front of his lips had gone cold from his distraction.

Mix flashed him a sharp grin.

"Don't worry Salvadore, you'll have your turn teaching him how to wield large pointy metal rods soon enough," Mix flashed his gaze towards the Salvadore with a smirk, as his other hand cupped Daeran's hip to remind him to remain still, yanking slightly. Daeran's body snapped perfectly into place against Mix's, stealing his focus back to the lesson.

"Now, aim..and..fire," Mix whispered the mantra into Daeran's ear before shifting his eyes back to the torquoise gaze that returned his own.

Daeran jerked his own eyes towards Salvadore before releasing and winked at him. The sound of glass shattering filled all of their ears, stealing Mix's - and only Mix's - attention. Another broken window.

"Well, at least your arrow didn't fall to the ground again," Mix squeezed his hip and guided his body again - this time to turn and face himself. Daeran let the bow fall to the ground neglected as Mix kissed his neck hungrily.

"A useful lesson indeed... How *ever* shall I repay you?" he joked.

Mix's hand was still tangled in Daeran's hair when Salvadore showed up beside them, slipping his hands into each of their jackets, pulling them both into his large and firm embrace.

"How about we all stick to our own skillsets?" Salvadore mocked. The two shorter men turned up towards him and kissed his jaw, mirroring each other.

"But where's the fun in that?"

[rollofleaf]

Owlcatober Day 21: Dance

Back to this! The world could always use more Hilde and Arue...

Hilde groaned with exhaustion as she plopped down at her seat in the Defender’s Heart. It had been a long day at the festival. All that socializing was already exhausting for her, and being kidnapped and having to fight Razmirans had just drained her further. Then tomorrow she had to make good on her promise and hunt the wizard down. But that was a problem for tomorrow. For now, she could relax with her best friends. Aivu was sadly too large to comfortably fit through the door to the tavern, so she had to resort to sticking her head in through the window.

She took a bite out of a sweet bun and leaned back. It was nice to be able to take a load off. Aranka, Thall, Ilkes, Sosiel, and Woljif were up on stage playing as an impromptu band. Aranka’s voice was beautiful and she was an expert at the harp, Thall was awkwardly leaning against the back of the stage and tapping away at a cymbal, Sosiel was on drums, Ilkes had a violin, and Woljif had a lute. Hilde smiled warmly. Woljif had come up to her a few months ago and asked her to teach him to play. Seeking a hobby and way to make money outside of thieving, so he claimed. He was getting quite good! The group were playing a pleasant, upbeat tune that had half of the tavern dancing.

Arueshalae came to sit next to Hilde, cuddling up to her side with a pleased sigh. “Hello, my love. I’m surprised you aren’t up on stage performing.”

Hilde shrugged. “It’s tempting, but I think for once I’d rather be here. After all, you can’t dance with someone if you’re part of the band.”

“But… You aren’t dancing with anyone.” Arueshalae’s head tilted questioningly.

“Not yet. I was waiting for you.” The aasimar winked cheekily.

A blush bloomed on Arueshalae’s face as Hilde extended a hand. She looked away bashfully. “I mean, I… I don’t really dance. Not since I was a proper demon, and those were a very different type of dance.”

“Want to know a secret?” Hilde leaned in and winked conspiratorially. Arueshalae leaned in to listen. “I don’t know how to dance either. Let’s learn together!”

Arueshalae giggled. ���You’re fibbing.” She still looked shy about the prospect, but less so.

“Well, it’s half true. I don’t know how to dance like a Mendevian.“ 

Another soft laugh came in response. Reluctantly, Arueshalae took Hilde’s hand and stood. “Alright, I’ll… I’ll try.”

They walked along the floor where some others were dancing. Hilde guided Arueshalae’s hands to her shoulders and put hers on the succubus’s hips.

Arueshalae blushed from her cheeks to her ears. “Hilde… People are watching…” 

Hilde flashed her a smile that had her walking on clouds. “Ignore them. Right now, the world is just you, me, and the music.”

Arueshalae’s cheeks burned scarlet. But try as she might, she couldn’t shake the nervousness from the eyes on her. “I… I can’t…”

Hilde let out a soft chuckle and held Arueshalae close. Their hips swayed gently in rhythm to the music, though Arueshalae was too shy to do any more. Hilde smiled at her beloved. “Don’t worry about it, we do only what you’re comfortable with. Are… Are you okay? I know a lot’s happened today, and I’m sorry you-”

“It’s not your fault, Hilde.”

“I could have been more careful.”

“Even if you were, it might not have prevented it. It’s alright. None of us got hurt, at least not badly.” She could see the guilt in Hilde’s shimmering eyes. The poor woman always took everything on her shoulders. It was rather familiar…

“I’m glad. If something happened to you…” Hilde shook the malaise off and put on a smile. “Sorry, don’t mean to be a downer. Sharing a cell with Daeran though, that couldn’t have been fun!” She chuckled softly at her own little joke.

Arueshalae broke into a giggle. That got her to loosen up a little, and she looked over Hilde’s shoulder to share a brief glance with Daeran, who was in the middle of his own dance with a few admirers. “Actually… It wasn’t so bad. I think we understand each other better now.” 

“Oh, that’s a surprise! A good one.” Hilde grinned. Arueshalae seemed more at ease now, so she moved a little bit past the simple swaying of hips. Arueshalae’s tail began to swish as she finally felt comfortable shaking her rear a little bit. Hilde giggled along with her, the two dancing together as the music began to pick up.

Arueshalae was slow and a little bit awkward, but she found her footing soon. There was still embarrassment in Hilde’s kind of dancing, the shaking of her hips and showing off her curves, but she enjoyed it. The energy, the closeness, it all left her in a happy daze. The two grew more frantic, taking each other’s hands and twirling around as they fell into the music. Others moved back to make way for them as the rest of the world fell away. There was nothing but Hilde, Arueshalae, and the music they danced to.

Arueshalae’s cheeks flushed as Hilde laid one hand on her hip and the other on her back. Hilde didn’t have experience with traditional ballroom dancing, but there was one thing she had always wanted to do. Slowly, she tipped Arueshalae back, holding her and lowering her into a dip. Arueshalae’s cheeks flushed scarlet as Hilde leaned into her, pressing their lips together in a warm kiss. Arueshalae’s ruby eyes were full of stars and awe as they opened after the kiss. Hilde held her there, savoring the moment. Both whispered in unison, “You’re beautiful…”

Hilde burst out with a loving giggle, pressing a kiss to Arueshalae’s nose. “I adore you. So, how do you like dancing?”

Arueshalae grinned back at her and hugged her tight. “I’m starting to love it… But it has made me even more eager for our date. We still haven’t gone there.” She looked aside, winking at Aranka.

Aranka grinned as her voice trailed off. “Thank you, all. This will be our last song, then we have another engagement!”

Hilde glanced between the two. “Another…?”

Arueshalae let out a laugh. “Oh, I’m sorry, I wanted to keep it secret! I may have made some plans for our date. So, one more dance, then we go?”

Hilde picked her up with a smile and they got back to dancing. “One more dance, then we go.”

[yunessa]

To say that Mendev was defined by its conflict with the Worldwound is accurate, but a simple explanation. Look at the countries that surrounded it. Each one eyeing their border as the Worldwound expanded. Calling it a disease or a cancer would be accurate- after extensive conversations with my companions, I can say that it’s one of the greatest threats to life on Golarion today.

Not a threat to Chelix, for example, not today or even next year. But the expansion of the worldwound is only slowed by the numerous lives that come to fight it and until this crusade started, the Ward stones that lined its border. What happens when the lives of the brave, the adventurous and the expendable start to slow down? If there was no crusade and the Ward stones failed- or were corrupted to increase the speed of the Worldwound’s growth?

Then Cheliax might very well be squinting at it’s borders next year as demons lurk on the horizon. But you could say that for any nation that is not currently bordering the Worldwound.

Every nation occupied by civilised minds hates the Worldwound. For it tries to grow, constantly pushing its boundaries. It cares little for what country it borders, only that it grows.

According to Daeran and Nurah- both knowledgable about the world stage-, Numeria and Ustalav are not actively battling the Worldwound. The realm of the Mammoth Lords fights, but to what extent I have no idea. I assume they do 

So it is Mendev who is the Worldwound’s most vehement opponent.  But if I am to retake the hold of Drezen I will need to look outward for support. Mendev has very little to its name after a century of war. Much of its support comes from the rest of the world.

People without knowledge of economics and the worldwound might not believe it, but a century of war does not leave you with much of anything to your name. Support comes from lands as far away as Cheliax and Andoran, to name two of the bigger ones. Nobody wants to be the nation with the Worldwound on their doorstep with citizens that only know of the war that has been going on since their grandparents were alive.

If I am to retake Drezen then I must handle more than just politics among the crusaders. Even now I have soldiers from Andoran, three elves from Kyonin, a tiefling that claims to have travelled from far-away Kelesh to fight the Worldwound. I have had Seelah go about the camp- she’s friendly, cheerful, and people love to speak with her- to find out other places I could reach out for aide.  We have a list already, but Seelah is good at talking to people. Adding in Woljif's connections and I'm sure we can get a good network.

How supplies will get here is another matter. Daeran tried to explain to me, but I’ve never seen such math before in my life, ‘nor have I seen it applied to wagons, teleportation, or the specifics needed for a teleportation network. How he understands this maths is beyond me. I’ve never applied such numbers and lines to my magic.

Daeran tried to explain imaginary numbers to me as he showed me the supply plans. I’m certain he was actively attempting to torment me rather than alleviate my disbelief. Numbers can’t be imaginary can they? If numbers were imaginary then how would anything get done? I found a new thing to fear.

I have written this all down in a list of things I should not forget. The many potential supplies, tasks, and other things now make a list fifty pages long- and as of right now still growing as  I spend my evening time speaking to my quartermaster. I suspect once we retake Drezen, even Horgus Gwerm and Wilcer Garms will have headaches managing everything that will be needed.

-Yunessa

[dragonologist-phd]

Piper & Companions - First Impressions vs Final Opinion

Tag game: Give your KC’s first impression and final opinion of each of their companions!

tagged by @dujour13! thank you!

i've already lost track of who's done this, so if you want to do it (or do it again), i'm tagging you! yes, you!

First Impressions

Seelah: “Wonderful- on top of everything else I have to deal with, there’s also a Paladin. At least this one seems to have a better spirit about it than most.”

Camellia: "There's a rich girl if I've ever seen one. She sure does remind me of someone..."

Lann: "Odd fellow. I can't decide if he's smart or an idiot. Either way, he thinks far too highly of me. But I think I like him."

Wenduag: "Someone who looks like that has a lot of nerve bad-mouthing tieflings. Unfortunately, she seems useful right now."

Woljif: "Him, I understand. And I just might take him up on that offer to leave before things get too messy. Thieves and outcasts gotta stick together, yeah?"

Ember: "What is she doing here? Why does she insist on sticking around? Someone needs to be responsible for her, and I really don't think I'm the right person for that."

Daeran: "Ugh. All I wanted to do was steal some silverware, now I'm stuck with the most obnoxious person in Mendev."

Nenio: "She certainly has her own set of priorities. And if nothing else, she knows how to provide a good distraction."

Ulbrig: "Is he really as old as he says he is? Or is he just as crazy as he seems? It's getting harder and harder to tell the difference these days."

Galfrey: "She's a tough one to read. But I must have convinced her I know what I'm doing if she's trusting me- me!- with the Crusade. I hope she never realizes how much of this I'm making up as I go."

Sosiel: "An absolute dear! I could talk about art with him all day long. I can't imagine what possessed him to go to war, of all things, but I'm glad he's here. That's probably selfish of me, but there you go."

Regill: "Huh. I thought he'd be gargoyle food by now. Pity."

Trever: "Nobody should have to go through this. I'm going to get him out of here, and then I'm going to burn this place to the ground."

Arueshalae: "I know this voice...I just never imagined it belonged to a succubus. Maybe I'm the fool for getting close to her, but she helped us- and more than that, Desna vouched for her. That's enough for me."

Greybor: "He's shrewd; people underestimate the value of that. That's why I don't trust him beyond what I pay him. He can say what he wants, but contracts are broken every day."

Aivu: "I have no idea what's happening anymore but yes of course we're best friends!"

Final Opinion

Seelah: “She’s pretty amazing. I’d have died many times over if not for her, but it's more than that- nothing keeps her down, and she’s the most loyal friend I’ve ever had. I trust her, and coming from me? That's a big deal.”

Camellia: "I should have stopped her sooner, I know. I could justify my choices, but really...I was afraid of having to fight her. I ended up having to do that, anyway. I do wish it could have been different."

Lann: "Definitely an idiot. I thought we were friends, but- I don't know. I still like him enough to hope he stops trying to throw his life away, at least."

Wenduag: "I did give her a chance. I suppose I always knew what would happen, but- well, you can't blame me for hoping."

Woljif: "He's my best friend and my brother and still the only person who I think totally gets me. I'm proud of how far he's come- how far we've come."

Ember: "I guess she could take care of herself pretty well, in the end. She takes care of others, too. I still wish she didn't have to, but at least she's happy."

Daeran: "I still think he's the most obnoxious person in Mendev, but...he's grown on me. If nothing else, he's the perfect partner for wine and gossip."

Nenio: "It's funny- I've gone by a lot of names in my lifetime, and that's never bothered me. But I'm really glad she remembers this one."

Ulbrig: "An actual god, huh? I couldn't have made up a story this fantastical. It's going to make a great song."

Galfrey: "I wish her the best, but...things just aren't the same. Whatever friendship we might have had at one point, I don't think it can be recovered. I suppose I'm mature enough now to forgive, but still not enough to forget."

Sosiel: "Still an absolute dear. And I'm still glad to know him. He has a strength few people see; I feel lucky, to be able to see it."

Regill: "Maybe I was harsh on him at first. Not that he doesn't deserve it, but...he stuck by me, even when I really thought he wouldn't. I guess that counts for something."

Trever: "He's still a good man, and he deserves a good life. I don't know if he believes that yet, but he's getting there."

Arueshalae: "My sunshine, my miracle, my happy ending. I could write a ballad in her honor every day for the rest of my life, and it would never be enough to say how much I love her. She says I've made her a better person, but we all know it's really the other way around."

Greybor: "I don't care if he's the most feared assassin in the demon realms, I know the truth- he's a big old softie."

Aivu: "Still best friends. Still the best part about being an Azata!"

[jean-dieu]

5 & 10 for the amorous asks! -Yunessa

Gonna answer for the usual trio, Raphaël Lazare and Ziel!

5 - Do they enjoy reading romance novels or watching romantic dramas (or even romantic comedies)?

Raphaël : Not really... at first. That's clearly not the kind of book he'd naturally pick, preferring epic tales about legendary heroes when he was a lil kid and historical novel as an adult. HOWEVER... I can totally see Sosiel recommanding his favourite romance novels, because of course he has read a bunch of them. And of course Raphaël can't say no to him. Sosiel would pick some he knows might suit his partner's tastes to try to ease him into the genre, and hmmm maybe it might work ~

Lazare : If Lazare was born in 2000, he would spend a lot of time on booktok searching for the next shitty romance novel to read. Yes, he likes romance novel, and he often ugly cries at the end, happy ending or not.

Ziel : Only if it's tragic and everyone die at the end.

10- Has your OC ever experienced unrequited love? What is their relationship with that person now?

Raphaël: Hard to say as I'm not fixed on this. During my WOTR campaign, we joked that Raphaël took a vow of celibacy after being rejected by a random girl at 16 and Raphaël being terrible at coping with anything just went "I'll never love anyone again bye" and took his oath. More realistically, I think he may have had a crush or two during his teenage years, but he virtually had no idea how to flirt and just... Stared at a respectful distance and never mentionned his feelings by fear of being harshly rejected. So no unrequited love as he never got to confess. (But for the sake of it, with @spyridonya we spoke about an AU where he's in love with Kadira, doesn't confess, and she starts dating Daeran :)))) )

Lazare: Yes, a few times. Most importantly, he got through a breakup with his girlfriend of two years when he was 18. She was a sweet halfling girl named Lela of his hometown and she broke up with him because she was clearly more mature than him and ready to act like an adult when he was still acting like an overgrown child. They're in good term though. Lazare was very sad when they broke up but ultimately understood her position and got over it. Lela's now dating another man, and they're planning to get married soon, and Lazare's invited, and quite delighted for the both of them!

Ziel: Nope. Ziel is only 18 and didn't really care about love before now. He recently confessed his love for Ruby, a half-orc girl and his best friend, but they started dating and all is well hehe.

[cassynite]

wip wednesday

today was basically just one long drawn out fart noise but at least i went back to my roots (daefic) and finished a scene, even if it is once again a chapter ahead of the place i need to be working on. behold: the back half of dae's shitty birthday party

--

Hours after, when the fog of drink has lessened the presence of ghosts, he sits at a table across from Sparrow and tries to maintain eye contact as they continue their interminably long drinking game. Sparrow's not doing well--she's struggling to stay upright, in fact, and should have cried surrender some five glasses of wine ago.

Daeran's own head is floating, his veins thudding with alcohol--he should have ended this three glasses or so ago, but at this point it's a matter of pride. He's going to knock Sparrow out or they'll have to carry him out, and he's not sure he cares which.

Ah, well. At least the last few hours have been entertaining. Or were entertaining, at least--the fun has grown a little thin, and certainly their audience, enraptured by the stalwart Knight-Commander letting loose, have grown bored. It's only him and her left in the main hall now, the rest having trickled outside to get some fresh air.

Gods, does he want some fresh air.

Later, he'll wonder if he imagined the conversation, conjured it out of nothing but the buzzing wine and his own strange thoughts about ghosts in the family manor that would not even come out to see him one last time. A drunken vision or truth, he is still surprised when Sparrow, listing to the side, fixes him with a glaze-eyed stare.

"You're allowed, you know. To do whatever you want with it."

"Excuse me?" Words are clumsy in his mouth, but he might not have done much better if he was sober. Sparrow's expression is open, disconcertingly so, naked in a way he'd only ever seen before in minute flashes when her emotions got the better of her. It makes him shift in his seat, uncomfortable, like he's looking at something he shouldn't, or like she is reciprocating an openness he hasn't realized he is giving himself.

"What happened here is yours," she says in the same intense, earnest voice. For someone who seems loathe to string more than five words together, the wine has made Sparrow very verbose. "It happened to you. No one else. And no one else can tell you the right way to feel about it. Throw a party, burn the house to the ground. Cry or laugh or sing or mock it. The only people who can care are the ones who this was done to--you are all that's left. The dead don't give a shit how they are mourned. So don't ever let anyone tell you that you're grieving wrong."

Something bubbles in Daeran's chest--laughter, maybe, but probably something worse. He swallows it down. As if he needs some stranger's permission to do what he likes with this house, with his things, with the memory of his mother. They don't know even a fraction of what he went through, what he endures every day.

He already knows that everyone who criticizes him are bores and upright, pompous, self-righteous sycophants toadying to the queen and Iomadae and good taste. They think they have the right to judge him, and that's their mistake. If he didn't want to be sad about what happened to him then he damn well wouldn't be, and there is nothing they can do about it except sneer; and they will sneer regardless.

He isn't some pathetic, sniveling victim boo-hooing about losing his mommy. He doesn't need pity. But it's not pity that he sees in Sparrow, it's something--something else, something he doesn't want to look at fully in the face. With some amount of shame, like he's lost a game he didn't know he was playing, his gaze slides to the wine glass in his hand, still half-full. His stomach roils. The thought of drinking another drop makes him sick.

I'm not grieving, he wants to say. I don't care what happened here. But the alcohol makes the words burn in his throat. He swallows them and the bile churning in his stomach down, lifting the glass of wine that he won't drink.

"My grandfather...or, maybe it was my great-grandmother, put this bottle in the family cellar. So why did it fail the scion of the illustrious Arendaes in his time of need?"

[dujour13]

Owlcatober 15. Healing

An early relationship moment - added to The Lark and the Crow on AO3

CW: canon-typical violence, injury, vomiting

---

Woljif felt the sweep of the hammer hoist him off his feet and send him hurtling against the wall long before any pain set in.

In fact, he probably should have been more worried about the absence of pain, and the odd, floaty feeling of not caring much about anything anymore, even the curious fact that his lungs refused to inflate. Just lying here on the floor of the Ivory Sanctum, looking at the pretty lights. The ache was distant, like at the bottom of a river he sailed tranquilly over.

Ah, there he was, the chief. Chiefs? He tried to smile as three identical images of Siavash’s face swam into view, but smiling felt like too much work.

The chief’s lips were moving. He was agitated, glancing over his shoulder, gesturing urgently, and if his mouth didn’t feel so comfortably lazy Woljif would have told him not to get himself all worked up. Just having a little lie-down. The chief yelled something right at him, and then again more frantically, but his voice could not be heard over the thundering of temple bells in his ears.

And then Siavash did one of those Elysian things where his eyes shot full of rainbows like the crystals in the window of old Fyllemen’s when the sun hit them. It made Woljif’s eyes water how radiant he became sometimes, like his mortal body was no more than the shell of some being of pure sunshine. He wanted to tell him to tone it down a notch. In the beams of light danced tiny motes of pollen or magic or maybe Aivu’s wing scales, settling softly over Woljif’s body like snowflakes.

Rapidly the warm sensation in his gut began to heat up, from soft and floaty to a boiling intensity a lot like pain, only to wash out again until he lay baking like a beach at low tide in the full heat of the sun, and then suddenly he was wide awake and vomiting.

No mistaking that sensation. His torso radiating like a furnace. The searing friction of tissue and sinew working their way together again. The deep pressure-ache of bone recalcifying in his ribs and sternum. His heart stuttering as it picked up where it left off. Blood flooding through re-knit vessels.

But what his dazed mind clung to was the arm across his shoulders, gently easing him back when he finished emptying his stomach. The metal lip of a canteen was pressed to his mouth so that he could sip, cool water washing away some of the terrible heat of healing.

Woljif squeezed his eyes shut until the room stopped spinning. When he opened them again there was the chief, just one of him now, pale as a ghost, staring intently into his face and speaking in some strange extraplanar language that only gradually resolved into Taldane.

“…here and take a breather.”

“I’m beginning to feel redundant,” Daeran remarked, face hovering into view wearing that expression Woljif knew all too well: the corners of his lips pinched in irritation at being roused from indolence to draw on his oracular energies because somebody carelessly got himself clobbered.

Siavash sat back on his haunches, eyes not leaving Woljif’s face for a second. “I didn’t even know I had that in me.”

Daeran tucked a lock behind his ear and smirked. “To be in love is to surpass oneself,” he quoted airily.

He must really have taken a blow to the head, because as the others secured their rest spot in the cultists’ barracks Woljif could only sit propped on a bunk and stare stupidly, hypnotized by the figure of the chief as he moved about surrounded by a fuzzy glow like misty dawn. How could this be real?

Scarcely three months ago he was lost in the Worldwound thinking he deserved to die alone. Now he had people—and not just any people—leaping to his rescue, miraculously channeling the power of Elysium for little old him, and holding him while he threw up?

Even more improbably, here was Woljif Jefto taking a minotaur’s warhammer to the gut instead of getting the hells out of here as fast as his feet could carry him.

What would it take to make me scarper again? he wondered. There it was just under his skin, the old itch, the shadow, urging him to save his own hide.

—but the shadow was blasted away by the chief’s radiance as he settled next to Woljif and tipped his shoulder gently into his. What toff nonsense had Daeran come out with just now? To be in love is to surpass oneself? Like sticking around taking a minotaur’s hammer to the gut, yeah. I didn’t know I had that in me either. Does that mean this is—?

As he pondered he suddenly felt warm fingers slip into his palm and rest there, and all his insides turned into a sweet, achy puddle flooding all the way up from his groin and across his chest so he almost forgot to breathe again. After the moment of surprise passed he closed his hand gently around Siavash’s. And tried to act normal.

“How are you feeling?”

“I got a little pain right here if you wanna hit me up.” Woljif held up an elbow jokingly, but much to his embarrassment Siavash brought it to his lips and smooched it. He pulled it away with a sheepish smirk.

“You scared me there.” Siavash’s eyes had returned to their comfortable hazel, shaded with worry.

“Yeah, me too.” As Woljif searched his face—that kind, handsome face so full of concern—he felt it welling up again, an ache much older and deeper than the blow of a demon’s hammer. The shame. The wrongness of this. How could someone like Siavash look into yellow demonic eyes and see anything worth worrying about? The thief who took him for a rube, the coward who ditched him at the first sign of trouble. He felt an urge to sneak away into the shadows alone and steal something cold and shiny he could easily grasp—something less confusing than this. A cold shadow fell across his heart. His gaze wavered and fell. The words poured out in a pained whisper before his mushed-up brains could stop them: “Siavash, why—why do you care? Why do you trust me?”

Siavash held his gaze gently as if cupped in his hands, not letting his eyes drop again. “I like you. I want to.”

“I guess you’re crazy like that, chief. You let a succubus join the team. You even let Nurah go after she blew up half the crusade. I just hope that doesn’t come back to bite you.”

“With them it’s more of a gamble than with you,” Siavash winked. “I don’t claim to see into people’s hearts, Woljif, but yours is less hidden than you think, to those who pay attention.”

“But I don’t get why you pay attention. Nobody ever bothered. I even gave you reason not to.”

“You would have to be a lot more convincing than that if you wanted to put me off. In case you didn’t notice, I have a desperate crush on you. I love everything about you.”

Woljif took a sharp breath. He what?

His expression must have betrayed the shock, because Siavash sighed. “Ah gods I always sound like I’m trying to play you. I don’t know why you trust me either.”

Woljif felt another flood of achy warmth as something deep inside that had long been broken began the slow, painful process of weaving itself back together. “Guess I’m crazy like that too.”

“I’ll tell you what,” Siavash smiled lopsidedly. “Since that’s how it is, let’s do something crazy. Let’s just trust each other. For no reason.”

He couldn’t help a little laugh. It hurt his ribs but it felt good. “Aright, chief, you’re on.”

[passionesolja]

Uuhhh so look, in regards to the new patch of Baldur’s Gate 3 coming out. To me, it’s a red flag that it’s 21GB and the main marketing thing they’re going with is kissing scenes. For context, Pathfinder: Wrath of the Righteous is like 43GBs and that’s a big ass game. A patch of this size shouldn’t have romance scenes be the selling point, cinematics data or not. I’ve been super forgiving and tolerant of Larian because I do respect them, I do like them. I loved Divinity: Original Sin 2 in high school. But this shit is absurd. The epilogue shit was sweet or whatever but ima be real, it really wasn’t needed when a lot of BG3 players aren’t even through with the game yet. It really could’ve waited. BG3 needs a lot more than just a fan service epilogue

Mf, fuck the forehead kiss scenes, where is the upper city of Baldur’s Gate? Will we finally have late game scenes be voice acted? There’s so much issues with BG3, like real issues that other cRPG devs couldn’t get away with, but Larian is focusing on genitalia physics. Shit that isn’t at all important.

It’s pretty obvious that the whole “Baldur’s Gate 3 came out the box complete” praise isn’t true because shit like the difficulty modes and everything else should’ve been there from the start. Like they were in Pathfinder.

I like the game, but these patches and their lallygagging is getting played tf out. It’d be one thing if they were locked in, fixing this shit, but their focusing on bullshit romance scenes and changing characters to be more palatable when they need to be filling out and fixing their game. Say what you want about Owlcat, but they get busy with their games. They didn’t fuck around with adding romance scenes and stupid physics that mfs not even gon care about fr, they get shit done.

Larian, y’all need to get shit done and stop acting like this shit a game. Romance scenes aren’t important. Mfs pressuring you to give a companion more kiss scenes isn’t important. Stupid ass lil gimmicky dick and ball physics aren’t important. BG3 has some real problems that need to be fixed, tick tock mfs too because this shit will only be glossed over for so long.

There’s a reason why Owlcat gets a pass for its buggy games in the community, it’s because they don’t spend months giving Daeran 5 hours of romance scenes. They get their games fleshed out and fixed up quick. Owlcat would NEVER move like this with Pathfinder.

Best believe that the hyper focus on fan service and romance shit is going to bite Larian soon if they don’t pull it together soon. I dunno what the fuck they’re doing, but Larian wasn’t moving like this when BG3 was in Early Access, but now they’re just losing the plot. Larian, fuck off with the bullshit fan service and fix shit—add shit.

[spyridonya]

So, I wrote something for 'Why does your Commander love their LI?" challenge given by @silversiren1101. I decided I would write a reversal of such for fun! So, "Why does the LI love their Commander?" I'd love to read what other people write! I'll likely clean this up for Ao3.

"I wonder, though, if the rumors about you were true?"

Ramien's question was casually asked between cups of wine and sharing of sun drenched memories; such a common question that Daeran that he felt no alarm rising in his throat. He could even recall Ramien ask this very same question two summers ago with his tone sly and rosy flush across cheeks. A lovely memory, one Daeran cherished, and yet one he found himself not wishing to repeat.

"You'll have to forgive me, Prelate, I must insist on asking which one? That lovely couple from the Northern Ward who decided to spend their honeymoon in the mire for her Majesty? That the duties required by her insufferableness has me in the mud encrusted battle field?" Rumors that aligned to the truth, "The clandestine meaning with that apprentice of  Gwerm?"

Ramien’s shrewd look on the too perfect heart shaped face and strong jaw seemed so strange for someone so angelic looking. The golden arch of brows, the casual curls that softened features carved from marble, the mere twist of lips. It was that look given to him in the Half Measure in Daeran's favorite spot in the back that made the count's hair raise on the back of his neck.

"That you've found yourself in the Knight Commander's bed."

The only tell of dismay might have been the twitch of fingers around the earthen cup, likely not as easy to spot in the dimness of a backwater inn lit only by prayers and tallow. "Is that's what they say in Nerosyan, now?"

"Kenabras, I've not the time to be in Nerosyan nor do I imagine they need me. My flock has increased drastically in the recent months," Silver blue eyes clear to warmth as he grins around a cup of wine, "Though I'd imagine your cousin would be having this drink with you now if such rumors headed further south."

"I would purpose that dearest Galfrey placed all sorts of rumors when she attached me to our illustrious leader without my consent, who knows what true reasons lie under her thoughtful meddling. Mm?"

"Does the rumor hold any truth?"

"She's a practical ingenue, Ramien." His eyes flicker away to the fresh crowd of Kenabras crusaders mingling with the old, their appearance standing out like blood on fresh snow. Or, perhaps, fresh snow laid upon soot and grime. "I've not the patience for guiding one through their first fuck, they unyielding as stone from fear."

Daeran felt his own stomach knot as he mingled the truth with some sense of loathing. Kenabras was in awe of Kadira, so many took her mingled truth like swallowing honey. Some rumor of him sleeping with the commander might be one of many circulating around her. They likely didn’t care if she was a virgin or not, no one did since the Worldwound opened, but rather who she spent her time with. He was not well liked and while politically savvy, he had given up his reputation… and that could ruin Kadira’s own. 

That was unforgivable when her future could hold so much promise, if she managed to seal the damn Wound. 

"Ah," Ramein nodded, leaning back in his chair as he studied his cup, his expression thoughtful, "I'd never know," He lifted his head, damnably beautiful. "I don't suppose you wouldn't be too troubled if I give her an offer to lose her maidenhood to a more indulging man, then?"

The icy wash of jealousy slid in his veins, rising to the bait before recognizing it for what it was by his expression alone.

"Well," The Densanite nodded, as if the count had spoken,  "She is no maiden, then."

"That was bait, Ramien."

"Is it? I found her a kind, lovely woman from what I recall in Kenabras. She would be a delight to spend a winter's eve if she enjoys warm, casual encounters."

Daeran knew he was pouting over the glass, glaring at what could be considered an almost friend. Or at the least, a former lover he parted on good terms with.

"Truthfully Daeran?" The other aasimar continued, "Not many do believe in those rumors. I'm afraid what gave you away was risking roses. I may not know the tentates of the Incorruptible lover of Desna, but giving a Shelynite one rose much less a war room full? It would be breathtaking cruelty for a prank. And seeing you here before me, hail and healthy with honor intact?" He almost looks abashed, almost. "I knew they weren't rumors."

"You’re a sadist," Daeran knew he was still pouting as he sipped his drink.

"I am caperious... and curious. When I say she is not your type, I don't mean the physical. I mean..."

"Everything else?"

"Daeran," He admonished brightly, "Are you voicing shame?"

The count found himself leaning over the table - Ramien was only a little shorter than him, but several pounds of muscle on him. For his gentle words, the man before him was a cleric, donning thick armor and heavy mace - he was loath to use them, but rumor had stated the aasimar’s rescue of others from demons within the burning city of Kenabras. "No. But I fear that your curiosity will not help the commander's reputation."

"No," He set his cup down, "It doesn't. Forgive my caperious nature but believe me in that I am being careful. I've counted the rounds of drinks our good men had and the good cheer they made. We're no worse a place to speak than the confines of your bedroom. Please, indulge me."

"All due for a summer's eve?"

"Because I like you, and I want you to be happy, and I don't think you've ever been so concerned for a lover you've taken. Does she make you happy?"

Ramien might refute it, but he spoke with a practiced ease of a politician, lacking all the unsophisticated sincerity that Kadira had if she had used the same phrase. If there was some iota of romantic affection for a memory, Daeran would have downed his wine, answer crassly, and go ... likely to his room. Alone.

Friendship, he supposed, came with its own thorns. "She's dour and seems besotted by Archons. A prig."

"Is she, though?"

Daeran closed his eyes, "No. She's... a contradiction, though. She endeavors a darling effort to exemplify goodness, it's really almost cloying, akin to grandiose stage performance. However, what makes her entirely genuine is her obliviousness to the social contract of charity. Kadirai so earnest, is so clumsy her in compassion, and so vehement when she encounters an obstacle of the bureaucracy and selfishness” He held back a smile, recalling her demanding where the money had gone in providing the soldiers, and how much of it had trickled into the pockets of officers. "She once grasped a thread that no one saw, leading to one of the men thrusted upon Garms to help organize the needs of the men. The said man was building his reputation among the more patriotic Mendevian aristocracy by buying lesser quality goods at lower units and skimming off the top for the officers."

"And what happened to him?" Ramine asked, and Daeran could see the steadying of shoulders. Such a crime played havoc upon the cleric, Daeran supposed. The free market behaves in ways that would befuddle a Desnanite.

"He was assigned to mass burial for two months," Daeran replied with a shrug, "She explained to me that putting him with the conscripted soldiers would do them no good, since they were bound to find out what he did, and death meant a loss of a warm body." He swirled the wine in his cup, "After those two months, he was allowed to return to his position but instead he asked to become a foot soldier." A quirk of a smile, "She showed him the cost of his ambition."

They listened to the carousel of the crusader for moments, and the count continued, "Which isn't to cause to care for her, one would think, but it's a part of the whole. I had my birthday two moons ago."

"You sent me an invitation," Ramien agreed.

"You never came," Daeran accused.

"It was morbid," The cleric shot back.

"It was," The agreement was bright, and Daeran's lips twisted into a rueful smile, "Morbid, callous, attention seeking, the ecdysiasts were positively pale. Even dear, darling little Ember was miserable, though I told not her to come. Soot wanted to go, you see, even when I told her the bird didn’t always have to be listened to. Her attendance diminished the depravity, of course.” 

Soot, ever loyal, ever faithful Soot. He ought to hate that bird, but he didn't. Not when the not-quite-bird seemed to love that little elf girl so much.

"Of course. And Kadira?"

"Fantastic. Delightful! Joyful. A perfect guest if not co-hostess. And at the end, when we were both drunk to the edge of alcohol poisoning, she looked at me so earnestly and asked if I was enjoying myself." Daeran was very grateful Ramien did not ask the same question at that point, but allowed him to continue. "I think that began my sincere fondness for her."

"And your attraction?"

"Ah, when her tits were near spilling out at the festival that Deskari so rudely interrupted." Daeran said with a smirk that quickly softened, "Though in all honesty, not long after we arrived to deal with a situation down south, we discovered a warm water spring with its own waterfall. The commander  slipped into a pond, naked and breathtaking, indulging my day dreams. She looked at me with such skepticism and disappointment when I declined to join her, calling it a lark." 

The cleric's interest was held back, hands folded in his lap, though his curiosity was plain on his face and in his question, "And why didn't you? The cold doesn't bother kin like us."

"Ramien, I was turgid as a stone." He found himself saying quietly, "I'm only brief in her description for the comfort of this conversion. We’re both hot blooded men, are we not?"

The laugh that escaped Ramien warmed Daeran, though it caused some of the crusaders to look their way. As Ramien struggled to compose himself, the count raised his cup as he leaned closer to the cleric. "Before, or after the roses?"

"After."

Still chuckling, Ramien placed his hands on his thighs before standing up. "My friend, I thank you for piquing my curiosity with such titlation, but I should consider turning in for the night."

There was a silent, pregnant pause in the air. Daeran supposed it was a test as much as an offer. After all, the silver blue eyes were bright with interest and the memories between them were sweet and sinful. On that summer eve, Ramien smelled of wildflowers and tasted like the salt of the sea, the other aasimar's mouth impossibly warm.

Instead, Daeran sighed, "Good night, Prelate. Perhaps you would join me and the Commander for tea before we traverse forth against insanity?"

"Tea prepared by a Shelynite?" There was a slow, agreeable smile on the other man's face. "I'd be honored, Count Arendae. I wish you good night."

Though the two men left the inn into the starry cold of the city, the Prelate returned to the Inn. The count returned to the Citadel, where a drowsy commander who smelled of sweet oakfire and roses, who tasted of honey, and whose mouth was soft and gentle wasn't expecting him, even though he would go to her. 

Each and every time.

[mathlann]

2, 7, and 16 for Ligeia

Thank you! From this ask meme! I'm gonna say here I am currently doing a Demon run for Ligeia which may overtake her previous canon so I'll answer for that reality. These are going to be long so I'll throw them under the cut.

2. How do they feel about Areelu Vorlesh?

Ligeia's feelings about Areelu would take multiple therapists months to unravel completely. As another dynamic entirely changed by the introduction of Ulbrig into my save file, were it not for the fact of Ligeia's very particular mom issues, Areelu would be sitting in the bin next to Iomedae and Nocticula as "people who can go kick rocks" as far as Ligeia is concerned. Because so far as Ligeia's hard line on hating being manipulated, she has to respect Areelu's game when it comes to spiting the Gods. They aren't enemies when it comes to that goal, but Ligeia is frustrated by the fact that in her drive to get her child back, Areelu is essentially doing to Ligeia what she complains about the Gods doing to mortals. But then she is drawn to Areelu, and Areelu is impressed by her and also is the only Sarkorian who actually seems to accept Ligeia, eventually (or perhaps, the soul-thing of her child that she sees in Ligeia). I am planning to ascend this run but I haven't seen the demon-specific interactions yet so that may change things. But also Ligeia probably would have ascended without Areelu except for that last bit about being okay with dying if Ligeia lives. Absolute hammer to her insides because Ligeia already had one mother die so she could reach a greater purpose and all so. Look, Areelu is a tall, dark-haired semi-demonic Sarkorian lady in want of a daughter, and Ligeia is a tall, dark-haired Sarkorian lady in want of a mother. So, they can figure out whatever weird relationship this is in the God-Realm but right now, get in loser, we're ascending.

7. Is your KC religious? If yes, which deity do they follow? If not, what is their view on religion?

Answered here!

16. If applicable, who did they romance and why? If no one, why?

Ligeia romanced Daeran and Wenduag, although how things resolve with Wenduag is still up in the air. Wenduag and Ligeia clicked more immediately, because Wenduag's general attitude is one that's familiar to her but that kind of fawning praise wasn't something that's ever really been directed her way. But the longer things go on, the more Ligeia second-guesses things because while the physical aspect of the relationship is strong, she doesn't really see herself as the person Wenduag seems to want. Ligeia is someone who's much more out for herself and doesn't particularly care about being stronger than others or leading on the basis of strength. So she can't really trust Wenduag fully because what happens if someone comes around who Wenduag thinks is stronger than her? On my first (Trickster) run they broke up over Dyra, not because Wenduag murdered her, but because Wenduag lied about it and tried to talk around like she didn't. But we'll see what the breaking point is this run, or if there even is one.

Daeran took more dancing around, but he's the one she eventually stays with. Ligeia was initially a little skittish about being too close to him, not because of any curse-related things (who in Ustalav doesn't have family tragedy and hauntings?) but because of the mundane fact that she did not trust his abilities enough to not burn her up. But once she got over that, they became fast friends first and foremost. On the lighter level, being their respective families' "shitty irreverent hedonist" gave them a lot to bond over between reminiscing about operas and planning theoretical grand feasts. In heavier subjects, being members of the "dead mom/demon trauma" club also helped her understand him past the prickly exterior. Generally, Daeran is one of the few people she feels she can be herself around without feeling judged because neither of them particularly wanted to be here, and he's incredibly loyal to her even though given her background, by all reason he shouldn't be. They keep each other in good spirits, even though that also made it somewhat harder for her to take him seriously as a potential partner at first. His insubordinate flirtation towards her was something she took to be another part of the friendly dynamic they set up, and she very much put her own feelings in a box once they started turning romantic. There are so many individually opposing aspects to their identities that the idea of anything serious between them kind of felt like another joke they were both supposed to be in on. It wasn't until the Abyss that she really acknowledged the shift between them and could accept he probably wasn't going to pull any last-minute gotchas on her. And once she had that assurance, she wasn't going to let it go. Not Sorry Liotr.

[arendaes]

By Any Other Name - Prologue and Chapter One

From now on I'm going to be posting my writing exclusively on Tumblr, so I'm transferring over my current long fic and a few other stories that were never posted here in full for continuity's sake.

Fandom: Pathfinder Wrath of the Righteous

Rating: M to be safe

Warnings: None

Relationship: Commander/Daeran/Woljif (F/M/M)

"Oh tell to me Tam Lin” she said "Why came you here to dwell" "The Fairy Queen caught me," he said, "When from my horse I fell. And at the end of seven years She pays a tithe to hell” - The Ballad of Tam Lin

Once upon a time, there was a witch.

She lived deep in the woods, in a small cottage with her daughter. The witch won’t pretend she was good, or kind. That would be a lie. What she was, however, was powerful. So powerful she was forced into hiding, to perform in craft in secret and isolation. That worked for her, though. For the most part.

The only company she had was that of her daughter, whom she raised far from civilization and all its trappings. The girl grew up curious and inquisitive, and in time bloomed into a wild and mischievous personality. The witch did not mind. Many things could be said about her, most of them were horrible, but one of them was this - she loved her daughter very much.

One day, her daughter decided she was tired of living in their small cottage, deep in the woods. There was a whole world out there, or so she’d heard. She wanted to see it, and so she put a plan into motion. She scoured her mother’s spellbooks, day and night ,and formulated a plan. It was brilliant, she thought. Her mother couldn’t possibly be mad at her, not with how clever she was! And even if she was - she’d be gone before she even noticed.

Naturally, this did not go as planned. The plan backfired, and the witch’s daughter paid the ultimate price for it.

In her grief, the witch contemplated many courses of action. What good were all her powers, if she couldn’t save the one person she loved?

It was that thought she held onto, as she began to formulate a plan of her own. One that would see her daughter alive and whole again. One that would take a very long time to set in motion, and require extraordinary effort on her part.

It was brilliant, she thought. No one could possibly fault her for what she was about to do. And even if they did - they’d be gone before they could do anything about it.

Chapter One

“What kind of name is Heaven’s Edge for a village, anyways?”

The question that’d been on Ariadne’s mind was voiced by her mother, who was sitting next to her in the carriage. Judging by the sly, sidelong look she shot her, she knew she’d just been itching to ask this herself. Ariadne smirked in response, which was most inconvenient, since she’d resolved to be as glum and gloomy as possible on this journey.

Her father and stepfather sat across from them, and they exchanged their own look. It was half amusement, half exasperation.

“I believe the name is related to the Arendae ancestral home. The village sprang up around it, and I suppose it’s only natural to adopt the pompous name the landed gentry you tithe to decided was worthy.” Elvandir shot her a conspiratorial grin, which she couldn’t help but return. Damnit, she was supposed to be the picture of a sullen teenager!

“Yes, well, let’s make sure to save those scathing criticisms for the evening over supper, hm? At least until we know how much the town guard expects as a bribe to forget we’ve said anything.” Her father gave Elvandir an admonishing look as he spoke, one that slid effortlessly to her mother a moment later, then her. The twinkle of mischief in his eyes was unmistakable, but it didn’t have the desired effect. Now, instead of her resolve to be the most dour daughter imaginable, she just felt guilty.

It was her fault they were having to pack up and move to the northernmost part of the country, despite what everyone told her. If she’d just been a bit more careful, a bit less invested in her reading and a bit more aware of her surroundings, she wouldn’t have gotten hurt. Her chest ached, the edges of the closed wound burning faintly in an ever-present reminder of the burden she’d become.

Her father’s mirth dissipated as her demeanor shifted. “Ariadne, are you all right?”

She nodded too quickly, lips pressed into a thin line. It did nothing to reassure anyone. Her mother scooted closer to her, wrapping her arms around her and pulling her close. Ariadne let her head rest against her shoulder, all conviction to be morose forgotten.

“We should be arriving soon. Everything in the house is already set up, so how about you get some rest while we get things set up on the farm?” Ariadne started to protest, but the concern on her parents’ faces shot killed the objections in her throat. Instead she nodded slightly, closing her eyes and rubbing her chest through her dress as she let the rocking of the carriage lull her to sleep.

****

If there was one thing Woljif Jefto knew, it was that tieflings got no respect in a place like Heaven’s Edge. So when he overheard two of the town’s biggest gossip mongers trading whispers about a family of tieflings moving into one of the newly established farmsteads outside town, well, he couldn’t resist the urge to sneak out and see for himself.

It was easy enough to sneak away. School had just let out for summer vacation not even a week prior, and Gran didn’t expect, or even want, him back until nightfall. She'd probably kick him out of the house for good if the rumor mill would let her, but sadly for her the family that owned the tavern, the Vaenics, were the pious sort who looked down on things like disowning your flesh and blood. If she wanted to keep easy access to her favorite vice, she had to keep her grandson around, no matter how much she loathed him.

That suited him just fine, because he hated the old windbag too. There was plenty around the town to keep him occupied. Lots of good shops to scope out, lots of annoyed shopkeeps to outrun…why waste his time at home getting knocked about the horns when he could do that in town and maybe get something shiny out of it to boot?

But that did leave one question, one that bounced in his head like the coin he so desperately wished was in his pocket, and that was, what tiefling family in their right mind would move out here? None, it turned out, because it wasn’t a tiefling family. At least, not entirely.

He snuck up to the farmhouse, no easy feat as it was set almost dead center on the small plot of land. As got closer, he heard the voices, just barely managing to hide in the hedges lining the house before a trio of people rounded the corner.

One of them was a tiefling, with dark red skin and curving horns. His dark hair and neatly trimmed beard were shot through with grey, but besides that he didn’t seem terribly old. Walking to one side of him was a woman who seemed human at first glance, until he caught sight of her eyes - one dark brown, the other ice blue. Changeling. Despite having never met one, he just knew that's what she was. She was pretty, but unnerving, and the only plausible explanation his mind came up with was that she had some fey in her. Rounding out the trio was an elven man. He towered over the other two, his dark skin offset by the pure white of his hair. He had a wide, friendly smile, one that didn't alleviate the creepiness of his eyes in the slightest. Woljif had seen an elf before, and he knew those eyes were typical of their kind. Didn't change the fact they were off-putting at the best of times.

So, not a family of tieflings, but not the most usual dynamic either. Woljif watched as they walked past his hiding spot, holding his breath, just waiting to be found out. They just kept walking, though, chatting happily amongst themselves. Woljif sighed with relief when they were out of earshot, pleased he hadn't been found out. That feeling lasted all of five seconds, because just as he opened his eyes again, something slammed into the side of his face.

“Ow! What the -” His curse was cut off by the sight of a girl crawling out of the window above his hiding spot. She stared at him, her expression no doubt mirroring his own. He watched her pupils go from cat-like slits to full blown and back again. In hindsight, that should've been his first clue that there was something different about her, but it wasn't until she launched herself off the windowsill and onto him, her hand clamped over his mouth, that he realized she was a tiefling as well.

“Shh!” Her voice was a harsh whisper, her eyes darting past him. While she attempted to scope out whatever it was that had her spooked, he took in the sight of the small curved horns on top of her head and the tail lashing in the air behind her. If anything was going to give them away, it was that, but with her hand still silencing him he couldn't exactly voice that thought.

After a moment, she pulled her hand away. “I think they’re gone,” she said, tension bleeding out of her. She then turned her gaze to him, looking at him like he was a puzzle or riddle to figure out. “Who’re you and why are you beneath my window?”

He considered turning the question around on her, but that wouldn’t do him any good. Besides the obvious tiefling features, she was the spit of the changeling woman he’d seen. It wasn’t hard to figure out that she belonged here, and he didn’t. That made this situation rather precarious, no matter how relaxed she now seemed.

“I was just comin’ to meet the new folks in town. Ya know, bein’ neighborly and all that.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it still sounded weak to his own ears. If she thought the same, it didn’t show. Instead, she inclined her head slightly, taking him in with interest.

“Is that so? I’m afraid you’re ill-prepared for it,” she said, a small smirk playing on the edge of her lips, “Don’t you know you’re supposed to bring a baked good of some kind?”

“Oh? Well damn, if I’d known that I woulda swiped those cherry rolls from the baker’s after all.” It was strange - normally he’d never admit to something like that to anyone, let alone a stranger, but this girl, with her big, earnest eyes and mischievous smile, made him feel more at ease than anyone else ever had. That probably wasn’t a good thing - he’d heard what happened when people fell for pretty faces and charming smiles, and it’d always been a fate he wished to avoid. But at the moment, he didn't have it in himself to care.

Her eyes lit up. “So there’s a baker’s in town? What else? Is there a bookshop? Or a library? An apothecary?” She leaned further into him, fingers lightly resting on his chest. He blinked. That was not the barrage of questions he had expected to be asked if he got caught, and coupled with her proximity it was making him feel uncomfortably warm in a way that had nothing to do with the summer heat.

“Why you askin’ me? You can just go see for yourself. It’s not like it’s far or anythin’,” he said with a cough, finally breaking eye contact with her and hoping she didn’t clock the blush that now stained his cheeks. After a brief silence from her, he glanced back. She was looking past him again, biting her lip as her tail swayed gently close to the ground. His own was cramped underneath him, but despite the fact it was starting to go numb he didn’t move to shove her off him.

Finally, she looked back at him. “I’m supposed to be resting, but…I really want to see the village. Will you take me?”

Questions upon questions burst forth in his mind. Why did she need to rest? Why was she trusting a boy she just met to guide her? What perfume was she wearing that made her smell so good? Hells, what was her name? He decided to go with the one that was easiest to ask.

“Mind tellin’ me your name first?”

Surprise flitted across her face, quickly replaced by a slightly sheepish smile. “I’m Ariadne. And you are?”

“Woljif. Woljif Jefto.” He said it with as much bravado as he could muster. It was a nothing name that didn’t mean anything to anybody but him, but he liked it all the same. For some reason, he hoped she did too.

****

Daeran Arendae was hopelessly, hideously bored, and he was ready to make it everyone else’s problem.

He stared idly at the window display of the town’s trinket shop - pardon, it’s Antiquities and Mysteries shop. Nothing about any of the items he saw was particularly mysterious; it looked more like a place where passerby could pawn whatever was in their pockets to a proprietor that was no doubt going to spin a yarn and sell it for ten times what it was actually worth.

The gnome who ran the place had just moved to Heaven’s Edge a year or so prior, once word had gotten to Kenabres about how bustling and booming the town was becoming. A part of him wondered if the gnome felt cheated once he got to this backwater and saw the truth. The fact the shop was still in business, and bustling as ever, was answer enough, he assumed. That was for the better, as it was the only store within walking distance to town hall that also offered any shade.

It didn’t take long for him to become aware someone was watching him. Besides the servant his mother had insisted accompany him, that was. She was a pale, silent older woman who stared at him like he was a miracle given flesh. He was used to that reaction by now - aasimar were rare this far north, so he and his mother were likely the first she’d ever met. He had no doubt she had eyes on him, even now, but she likely wasn’t the source of the fervent whispering he was hearing from nearby.

“…do you know he even has anything good on him? He’s the same age as us!” This voice was female, with a light accent he couldn’t quite place. It also sounded fairly incredulous to be having this conversation.

“Yeah, so? That shirt alone’s gotta be worth a fortune. Even if all I get is lint, chances are it’ll be worth its weight in gold!” This one, slightly deeper, was affected by the local accent. Judging by the tone, the person who the voice belonged to was dismayed to find that voicing these words didn’t make this plan sound any better.

“Lint doesn’t weigh anything.”

“Exactly!”

“So you’ll get nothing?”

“Yes! I mean, no.” There was a long pause. “I’m confused now.”

“I’m not. Under no circumstances do I think you should go through with this.”

“You want one of those cherry rolls or not?” More silence, this time from the girl. After a moment, the boy added, “Thought so. Now just wait here, I promise it won’t take long.”

Daeran stood still, pretending he was enamored with one of the objects in the window. It wasn’t an easy task, as every item his gaze landed on was more hideous than the last. Finally, he felt a small, barely perceptible tug on his shirt. He had to hand it to the boy - if he wasn’t aware he was the mark, he might not have even noticed. But he did, and the thrill that ran through him as he casually slid his hand down to grasp the thief by the wrist was addicting.

He turned just as the boy let out a startled yelp. The quip that formulated in his mind comparing his would-be assailant to a dog died in his throat as he caught sight of him. Dark curls, purple skin, golden eyes wide with surprise…he was quite handsome, for a thief. The horns had a certain charm to them too, he supposed. And the tail…! Movement caught his eye and he looked past the thief to see his companion, a tiefling girl of about the same age who was just fetching, her eyes a dark shade of amber with a smattering of freckles across her nose and lips to die for.

A rather strange time to discover he might have a preference, all told, but he wasn’t going to complain. His afternoon had just gone from boring to exciting in a matter of seconds, after all. Now he only needed the perfect opening line.

“If you’re so desperate to see what’s in my pants, you could’ve just asked.” All right, perhaps that was a bit too forward, but the blush that spread across the tiefling boy’s cheeks made it worth it.

“I-I wasn't…I mean, it's not…” The boy spluttered as he broke out of his grasp.

“Not what? What it seems?” His lips twisted in what he hoped was his most charming sneer. Sure, he might find the two of them attractive, but that didn't change the fact they’d just been attempting to rob him. He was the scion of his house, and it was most unbecoming if he just let this slide. And besides, having your pockets rifled through was annoying, no matter how dazzling the perpetrator. “Either you were attempting to grope me, or relieve me of my possessions. So which would it be?

Behind the boy, the girl rolled her eyes. He probably should have been annoyed at the gesture, but instead he found a grin blossoming on his face instead. It grew when she said, “I think you know it was the latter. No one’s gonna try to cop a feel on someone who could clearly have their hands cut off for doing so.”

“By that logic, isn’t your friend’s attempt to pickpocket me equally as likely to result in that outcome, if not more?”

The girl scowled at him, in a manner quite ill-befitting her pretty face. He smiled in return.

“You’re right,” she said, grabbing the boy by the back of his shirt and pulling him away from Daeran. “We’re sorry. We’ll just be on our way.”

“Ari,” the boy hissed, “This is Countess Arendae’s son.” His eyes were wide, his riotous mass of black curls trembling slightly.

“What?” Now it was her turn to look surprised. He found he liked this expression on her much more. “Of all the - why did you try it with him!?”

“I didn’t recognize the back of his head!”

“As amusing as it is for you two to talk as if I’m not here, I really have to insist you stop.” Really, he was genuinely amused by this. It was rare for anyone who wasn’t his mother or his tutors to directly interact with him, and he found he rather liked it when said interaction was with people his own age. Though the alarmed looks they kept giving him would prove to be a problem…

“We’re sorry,” the girl repeated again. After a moment, she added, through gritted teeth, “Lord Arendae.”

That he scoffed at. “Please don’t. Call me Daeran, if it’s all the same to you.”

The tieflings exchanged a glance at that. The boy still looked like he wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow him whole, but the girl’s fear and annoyance was quickly being replaced by what he believed was curiosity.

“All right, Daeran,” she said, “We’re sorry we tried to rob you, and for talking like you weren’t here. Now, mind telling us why you haven’t called a guard or something?”

Daeran had to bite back the immediate retort, which was that he didn’t particularly want to see them arrested. If they knew that, they might just take off. That was precisely what he didn’t want. This was the most fun he’d had in a while, and he wanted to ensure his continued entertainment. And the best way to do that…

“You know, this shop supposedly has wonders from all over the world inside it.” He could tell they didn’t quite believe him. Not that he blamed them - he didn’t quite believe it either. “Why don't we go inside and take a little look? And if you see anything worth taking, well…it would help to have the Countess’ son along, right?”

Part of him didn't believe the words that had just come out of his mouth. He might be a spiteful little shit, as he’d been told, but aiding and abetting thievery was new, even for him. Still, when he saw their faces light up in cautious excitement, he couldn’t help but feel that damned warm, fuzzy feeling that all the books he read claimed existed.

If this was what having friends was going to be like, he couldn’t find it in himself to regret this decision for a moment.

Chapter Two

[dmagedgoods]

Violet for Sal for the flower meaning prompts? 💜

19. violet - i will watch over you ~ Funeral Flowers – Part III (to Part I) (to Part II) “Wait.” He reached out for Daeran’s wrist. The touch and the quiet urgency he spoke with made him stop in his steps. His face was impossible to read when he turned around to him, but he noticed something sharp in his gaze, a silent threat to let it be. He released him but didn’t waver in his intention. “Follow me.” Near the entrance to the banquet hall, another door led to an empty lounge. Salvadore closed it behind them the moment they had entered. “During my dear cousin’s funeral? I’m appalled.” The amused smirk on Daeran’s face didn’t reach his eyes. “But not enough to let the opportunity slide.” He stepped closer, reaching out for his collar. “Daeran …” With a pained expression, he took his hand and brought it to his lips in a soft kiss to interrupt him in his attempt. He didn’t withdraw from the touch, but now a flicker of rage appeared on his features. “What is it that you want? A sappy, sentimental outbreak? Some sort of confession?” His eyes grew colder and a cruel little smile played across his lips. “Absolution?” Salvadore flinched almost visibly and he let go of his hand. “I was right, wasn’t I? You feel I should have been able to save her, should have made different decisions in Iz, that I took the opportunity or even had planned to …” “No,” Daeran interrupted him. “That is what you tell yourself, your feelings about it. Not mine. She knew what she was doing. What she was risking. – Self-complacent and stubborn in her haughty beliefs to the very last moment.” His hands clenched into fists. “It’s quite a fitting and predictable outcome that it eventually got her killed in a last heroic attempt to save the world.” He tried to sound indifferent, but anger and agony lay clearly within his words. “You know, when I was younger …, merely a boy, and she … She seemed to care about … Oh by all creatures in hell, we had some true moments of closeness, of trust and intimacy. I know what you’re thinking, but not like this, no. She just … she seemed as lonely as …” me. He didn’t finish the sentence. “But of course, she got captivated by her duties, and who needs to live a life when you can become an untouchable idol and try to impress some unapproachable goddess somewhere in Heaven. No one truly was … you know” Daeran gestured vaguely and Salvadore recognized the tears in his bright eyes, tears he obviously attempted to fight. “No one truly was important to her; she only used this shining image to stroke her own ego. Gods, just listen to me. You wanted pathetic whining, here you have it. Are you satisfied now or would you pre…” Salvadore pulled him close, gently, but with firm determination, and, to his relief, Daeran just allowed it to happen. There was not a hint of the resistance his barbed words had made him assume he’d show when he closed his arms and wings around his body. “And why would I complain?” he continued, “She probably is at her beloved goddess side right now. If she can hear what I am saying, I swear I’ll make you pay for getting me to speak it out loud.” Salvadore stroked his hair, his throat tight, his eyes filled with tears as well. “I wish things would have developed differently. I wish there was still time.” Despite his guilt and doubts, he meant those words with all genuine sincerity, his chest heavy with grief. “You know, despite it all … I’m sure she cared.” “What meaning does it have?” Daeran’s voice sounded empty now. “She’s gone.” He was holding him more tightly while a feeling of helplessness overtook him. But Daeran didn’t expect an answer – what words could there be – instead, he let his forehead rest against his shoulder. “And what about you …? Will you disappear as well? In some last act of glorious heroism?” Salvadore’s eyes widened. He increased the distance just enough to cup Daeran’s jaw to force him to look at him. Gods, he had lost so many. – For years every person close to him and even those who only had dared to try and get there. A sharp pain shot through his veins at the thought. “I won’t go anywhere,” he promised. “You are not alone anymore. There is nothing I want more than to be at your side, to live with you, to protect you. I’ll be right here as long as you want me to stay. Forever if that’s your wish as well.” Daeran turned his head lightly to close his eyes and press his face against his hand in a silent answer. When he looked at him again, a slight smirk was back on his lips and he seemed more composed again. “You better keep your word or you’ll regret it.” Salvadore leaned in to capture his lips in a tender kiss. “I always keep what I promise.” The hint of relief in Daeran’s eyes told him that he believed him. “Although I don’t need protection, you know.” He gave a theatric sigh and two of his fingers ran through the feathers of his wings. “But I guess that’s what you get for falling in love with your guardian angel.”

[rollofleaf]

Owlcatober Day 13: Another World

Timeline shenanigans and finally writing a bit about Nadia! Sorry it's a bit late.

He felt Nadia leave him. She didn’t just disappear, he felt her very being disintegrating, torn to ribbons and scattered in the winds of the paradox she had created. Then he woke up in his bed. Harsh noon sunlight hit his eyes through the window and he let out a groan. Memories of conflicting realities smashed together to create a hangover worse than even his most indulgent nights of drinking. His life now felt like a fading dream, only a few strong memories indelibly burned into his soul. The birthday where his life fell apart, the destruction of the Other that had ruined it, and her. Nadia Karayan, his vampire, his countess, his commander. The Aeon that had ripped the universe asunder to destroy the Worldwound before it had been created, and ripped herself apart in the process. His bed felt cold and empty without her lukewarm body. And now he was on the other side, in a world that had never known the Worldwound.

All he could do was lean back into the bed and squint his eyes at the harsh sunlight. He always felt a strange kinship to her when he had a hangover. The sunlight hurt her eyes too... “Damn light… Ugh, what time is it even?” He briefly glanced down at himself. At least he was still a man, that hadn’t changed with whatever else did.

“Daeran? Daeran Arendae, are you awake yet? It’s nearly noon!” A voice from outside answered his question and caused a pit to sink in his stomach. He trembled, unwilling to vocalize who the voice might be coming from. The door to his bedroom swung open and his mother was standing there. Countess Silaena Arendae. The years had been kind to her and had not dimmed her heavenly radiance. Still, his eyes only saw her haggard and dying from the disease that had claimed her in his original timeline.

“M-moth-” He choked up. Daeran was not a sentimental man. Life had forced that out of him long ago, but there was one promise he had made to himself. If he ever saw her again… Without regard to his state of near-nudity, he leapt from the bed and hugged her tight. As tight as a son who had lost his mother. Silaena froze up in her scolding. Something was different about her boy. Daeran desperately tried to hold tears back. She had no idea of the unwritten timeline he had lived through, she shouldn’t know that he had lost her. “I… I-I missed you…”

“Daeran, you saw me at lunch yesterday! Though I would have liked to know where you were all evening. I didn’t even hear you sneak back in.” There was a light scolding in her voice, concern mixed with annoyance that he missed so badly.

“R-right, sorry. I was just out. Nothing to be worried about.” He struggled to keep his composure, pulling away from the hug and avoiding her gaze.

Silaena frowned slightly and tilted Daeran’s chin up. “My boy… What happened? You look… Older.”

Daeran trembled. He had to hold it together. She wouldn’t believe him even if he told her. “I-it’s n-nothing, Mother.”

“Daeran. Don’t lie to your mother. Talk to me.”

“I-it’s nothing, I swear.” Tears were streaming from his eyes as he turned away in some vain hope his distress wouldn’t be noticed. “I d-don’t even know how to explain it…”

Silaena paused for a long while. “Alright, then. I might not understand, but… I think there’s something you feel you need to do? Go ahead.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle. She was exactly as caring and understanding as he remembered, perhaps even moreso. He pulled her into another tight hug. “T-thank you, Mother.” She flashed him an understanding smile and left, closing the door as she went. Daeran fell back onto his bed and started to cry.

Why did him seeing his mother again have to come at the cost of the woman he loved? Why was the universe always so cruel to him? And what was he even supposed to do now? Daeran had longed for the day he could go back to his old life, provoking the elite of Mendev and living for nothing but his own pleasure. Now that there was no war, what was he supposed to do? Mendev probably wasn’t as insufferably sanctimonious anymore, the fun in screwing with them was gone.

Nadia… She’d have an idea. They’d talk sometimes, joking and talking about what they’d do after the war. She couldn’t have children and he didn’t particularly want any, but they had planned to get married, take revenge for her on the vampires of her homeland, and find ways to anger Mendev’s aristocracy even more.

He missed her. He had gotten used to her lukewarm body next to him and then bed felt empty without her there. Maybe… Nadia was a vampire, or close enough to one… She lived a long time, and was already over 60 when they met… Perhaps… Perhaps the Nadia in this world still existed! She wouldn’t have been kidnapped by Areelu, so maybe she was still out there! With renewed vigor, Daeran hopped out of his bed and got dressed. He’d need to learn about this new reality as subtly as possible to figure out just what had changed, but maybe… Maybe he could find her again.