#i went from a cheap 10 dollar set of knives

[reddeadmort]

Arthur Morgan X Reader |Outlaws, all of them| Part 1

My first ever fan-fiction, I enjoyed writing it, I hope you enjoy reading it! Definitely get more to come, at least 1 more part I reckon, who knows maybe more.

Warnings: Mentions of blood, violence, swearing (in line with the game), minor fluff towards the end. Next part will def have much more fluff, some angst and probably a bit of smut in there too.... Summary: You’ve barely escaped from Valentine, and you’re looking for a bit of cash so you can lay low for a while, when you see a lone cowboy....

Words: 2.3k  “Well…shit.”

Your mother, and half the people you’d ever met, always told you that swearing wasn’t ladylike. But right now, sat on your large war horse, looking out over the plains of the Heartlands, you could not give a damn. Sighing, you took stock of what had happened over the previous couple of days. You’d always been so careful; but somewhere, sometime, you must have become complacent. You weren’t even aware there was a bounty on your head; not until that group of half-cut bounty hunters strolled into the Valentine Saloon. You’d been in Valentine a few days, scoping out a new target; you were sure there was something untoward going on in the Doctor’s back office, but hadn’t yet had an opportunity to pick the lock and see what you could find. You had treated yourself to a hotel room; thanks to a nice quick raid at that ranch near Heartland Overflow, you had a whole pile of jewellery and buckles burning a hole in your pocket and the hotel owner was plenty happy to take a ring or two off your hands. You’ll have to go back to that ranch again, you thought; that strange man and his family sure had a lot of valuables lying around for ranchers. You enjoyed this saloon; the whiskey was cheap, entertainment in the form of fights was plentiful, and the men, on the most part, left you alone. The ones that didn’t sure as hell did after they felt your knife pressed against the front of their trousers. You had been camped at the far end of the bar when the bounty hunters strolled in, asking if anyone had seen (Y/N). You froze, and locked eyes with the bartender; he was the only person in there you’d said your name to, a mistake you won’t be making again. But he owed you, after you’d knocked that mad as hell drunk out with a well-timed chair leg. As one of the bounty hunters leaned on the bar, facing away from you, you’d called the bartender over with a wave, and whispered to him as you passed him 10 dollars… you’d hoped it would be enough for him to go along with it. He’d taken the money, poured a drink, and set the glass down in front of that over-powdered tart at the other end of the bar, saying how that nice gentleman (pointing at the bounty hunter) had bought it for her. Her companion had taken offence to this, and as all hell broke lose you had slipped out the back of the saloon. Quietly moving up the side of the saloon, you’d hoped to get across to your horse without being seen – no such luck. As you’d run across the road, the bounty hunters and bruised bartender had come flying through the saloon doors, the bartender screaming and pointing at you. With an adept jump on to the hitching post (you really needed to get a shorter horse, dammit) you’d swung yourself into the saddle and pounded away from that damn town. As you were riding away, you swore as you realised your latest haul was still in that damn hotel room. You hadn’t had a chance to stash it in your usual place yet, and ever since that incident in Rhodes you didn’t dare leave more than a hat on your horse. Damn thing never looked twice at who was rifling through his saddlebags; for such a large horse he sure was soft. You were going to have to get some money, and fast. You had your pistol, rifle and your trusty knives, but only enough provisions for a couple of days at best, and that O Driscoll gang had set up camp too close to comfort to your stash. You knew they wouldn’t find it, but you sure as hell didn’t want them finding you. As you looked over the plains, you thought about hunting a few deer; if you could find that trapper again, he’d give you something for what you could get off them, and you’d at least have a few days of meat before it went bad. But then you spotted campfire smoke, not that far off; looking through your binoculars, you saw the lone man and his horse. Now this was a much easier option, and if you were careful, wouldn’t require any bloodshed. You gently kicked your horse, pushing him into a trot as you slowly rode towards the smoke. ------ Arthur laid back, looking at the stars above him. He wasn’t too far from the camp, but the incessant arguing between Dutch and Molly, Abigail and John, and Micah’s presence had forced him to find somewhere peaceful to stay, just for one night. It had been a successful trip out to Strawberry; he’d got a decent amount for that Bounty collar, and had picked up a few good pelts and provisions on the way home. For once, he was feeling quite pleased with himself; checking the chimney of that abandoned shack had given him a rather nice new shotgun too. He was about to drift off when he heard a crack from in the trees behind him….. ------- You got off your horse a little way from the small camp, not hitching him in case a fast getaway was required, and slowly crept over through the trees. You were good at staying out of sight, adept at staying silently; thank god your useless father had at least taken you out hunting sometimes. When you were close enough to see the lone stranger you stopped; it looked like he wasn’t quite asleep yet, you would have to wait a while longer. Suddenly, a loud *crack* not 4 metres to your left made you tense and rest your hands on your throwing knives. -------- As soon as he heard the noise, Arthur’s hand snapped to his pistol, but as he gripped the handle the unmistakable double barrels of a shotgun came into view, directly above his head.   “Well well well boys, look who we have here……..Mr Morgan” --------- You recognised that voice; you’d made the mistake of attempting to rob an O’Driscoll camp a few months prior. You’d barely escaped from this bastard, and only because he’d underestimated you; a mistaken given he was the only one of five you hadn’t managed to kill. You thought about sneaking away, leaving this poor lone man to his fate; but then you thought about the way this man had beat you, and the threats he’d made; you could swear you still felt the bruises around your neck. There was only 3 of them…. and O’Driscolls often had a decent bit of cash on them. You quietly slunk round to the back of the man furthest from the fire; he was leaning against a tree, enjoying the spectacle in front of him. -------- The kick to the head, although expected, hurt Arthur like hell. As he turned over, another blow to the stomach made him gasp; he forced himself to his knees, only to be pistol whipped across the face. As his head hit the ground, the three O’Driscolls laughing and excitedly chattering about their find, he swore he saw a movement in the bushes…. ------ The other two O’Driscolls were too engrossed in kicking the living shit out of the stranger to notice you stand up behind the third man, silently sliding your hunting knife up between his ribs and into his heart. He gurgled as you lowered him to the ground – not as quiet as you’d like, because he was a damn heavy bastard. “What was that?” the second O’Driscoll said to the leader. Pressing the barrel of his pistol into the strangers throat, too enthralled in his task to look up, the leader snapped back to his man. “Ah Connor’s probably just gone for a piss, stop yer whining”. With your back to the tree, you glanced round to get a good look at the two remaining men; you were going to have to take both of this men out in quick succession if you weren’t going to get yourself killed. Normally, you’d have gone straight for your pistol, but you’d been stupid and neglected to clean it for weeks, and when you’d shot it escaping from the bounty hunters it had misfired and nearly taken your damn hand off. It would have to be the knives. ----- Arthur stared up at the bastard O’Driscoll, barely able to see through the blood pouring from his forehead. What the hell were this lot doing here? Dutch had been so sure they weren’t south of Valentine. He cursed himself for being so stupid as to be caught, by so few men as well. He was getting old, and getting dumber. Wait; there, again, definitely movement in the trees. He strained to see, ignoring the shit pouring from this mouthy bastard with the pistol. ----- Well, now or never you thought. In one swift movement, you swung round the tree, launching the knife at the neck of the O’Driscoll with the shotgun. It hit perfectly, and he crashed to the ground. But it hadn’t even hit its mark before the second knife was in your hand, and you were drawing back to launch it into the face of the lead bastard. As you let go, you felt a searing hot pain in your hip; it knocked you to the ground, as you watched your knife sail past the O’Driscoll’s head. Before you even had a chance to grab another, you heard another shot ring out; you froze, waiting for the pain, but the only thing you felt was a dull thumping in your hip. You looked up to see the stranger on his feet, gun in hand, running towards you. You scrambled to your feet, adrenaline ready to run you back to your horse, but before you managed to launch yourself forwards, a large hand grabbed you by the shoulder and spun you around. “You alright?” The stranger holstered his weapon, keeping a firm grip on your shoulder, staring intently at your face. He looked awful; you could barely see his features through the blood. And as you stood there, you realised quite how much larger he was than you…. “Woman, are you alright?” Fighting down your fight or flight urge, you finally answered him. “I think so. I’ve been hit near my hip, but it doesn’t hurt that bad so it’s probably just a graze.” “Now why’d you go do a foolish thing like that for, actin’ like a fool and risking your neck for me?” As you stared at him, his gaze softened; you hadn’t realised how angry he’d looked before. “I’ve been at the receiving end of that bastard’s hate before, and I couldn’t let it happen to someone else” you calmly answered, surprised at the steadiness of your tone. “Well, we better get out of here quickly before more of ‘em shows up” “Don’t I get to know the name of the man I just saved from certain death?” The question surprised both of you; you don’t even know why you asked, you were sure you’d neither want or need to ever see this man again. “Well ma’am, I suppose ya do. I’m Arthur Morgan”. “Pleased to meet you Arthur Morgan, I’m (Y/N). Now lets get the hell out of here.” Arthur turned to grab his satchel and a small leather bound journal; you started off towards your horse, but hadn’t gone two steps before a white-hot pain in your hip sent you hurtling to the ground. Shit. “Dammit (Y/N), that’s more than a scratch.” Arthur was already at your side, examining your hip. It slowly dawned on you quite how much it was hurting; you forced yourself to look down, but Arthur was already clamping fabric to your wound. “Where’s your damn horse, we’ve got to get you to someone”.   You concentrated and whistled, and were relieved to hear steady hoofbeats approaching. “That’s your horse? Ya ain’t going to be able to ride that beast in your state.” Arthur whistled over his mare and lifted you to your feet. He quickly tied your horse to his saddle while you leaned against his white mare. She was gorgeous; maybe an Arabian? You did your best to focus on her mane, struggling to keep your eyes open. “Stay with me, (Y/N)”. Arthur quickly climbed on to his horse and lifted you up in front of him with a brief grunt. “My main camp isn’t far from here, they’ll help get you fixed up.” As he spoke, he kicked his horse forward and set off at an uncomfortably quick pace northward. Every gallop sent pain through your hip, and you clung on to the saddle for dear life. It was taking all of your concentration, you could barely keep your eyes open; you felt yourself start to slide to your right. Suddenly, a large, muscular arm was wrapped around your waist, as Arthur pinned you to his chest. In the distance, you heard him say “Easy there girl, I’ve got you” as you slowly slipped into darkness. ----- Arthur’s bruised bones were screaming at him as he forced the horse onwards. What the hell just happened? The girl came out of nowhere. But he knew that if she hadn’t, he would either be dead or slung over the back of an O’Driscolls horse on his way to a worse fate. As he held the woman tight to his chest, his only thought was that he had to keep her safe.

[karen-letme-see-thekids-blog]

Liz

“Why is it so cold?” Liz shivered and tugged her sleeves down, hoping to cover up more of her exposed hands. She got goosebumps all over her body as the wind blew right into her face, making her eyes close in surprise.

“Shut up.” I was bored and Liz’s constant remarks about the weather were starting to bother me.

“Should I remind you that I didn’t want to come?! You dragged me here and I don’t even understand what for!” Liz stood up and started pacing around in hopes of warming up her body.

“Can you stop behaving like a fucking child?! I said it’s important!” The last thing I needed right now was someone to be annoyed with.

“Bitch...” Liz mumbled quietly. I knew she wanted me to hear her, I did, but she wasn’t going to get what she hoped for...a reaction.

I wasn’t looking at her but I felt her gaze burn right through my scalp. I breathed in the cold air, frowning as it stung. I was just as cold as she was, except I’ve gotten used to ignoring it. I looked down at my hands, they were red and freezing. I brought them up to my face, waking myself up as it was already late and I needed to stay alert.

“Give me the bag Liz.” I whispered as the alarm I set went off.

“What’s in it?” She flicked an ant crawling on the handle with disgust, grabbing the bag.

“Nothing that concerns you.” I looked at the item that was now in my hands. God, I loved this bag. I was emotionally attached to it, it had been through so much, I had been through so much. I grabbed something from the front pocket, quickly hiding it under my thighs. The metal part of it reflected the moonlight shining above us, and Liz couldn’t help but notice.

“What is that?” Her voice was shaking, she kept rubbing her arms and doing something that was close to jumping jacks, but not quite.

“Stop jumping around, and stop asking questions.” I unzipped my jacket, grabbing a thinner one from the bag.

“What are you doing?”

“Liz, do you understand what “stop asking questions” means?!” I threw the jacket, hitting her chest. “Now put that on, you need it more than I do.”

“Thanks.” She was about to do as I said, but first she checked for ants and other insects that might have crawled on the fabric when it hit the ground.

Me and Liz were two very different people. I knew that, I realized that the moment I met her in 3rd grade at Susan Hardy’s birthday party. I didn’t think we would go to the same middle school, or be friends even during senior year, but I was wrong. She was everything I wasn’t, she completed me. We never talked a lot, I was always very cold to her, but she loved me for it. She loved me for expressing my feelings through my actions and not my words. She loved me for wiping her tear instead of telling her it would be okay. She loved me for staring into her eyes instead of talking to her about pointless things. She loved me for being a good listener, even if I wasn’t good at speaking. And I loved her for accepting me, the way I was. It scared me though. It scared me that I was about to show her the side of me she never knew existed, the side of me that could frighten her, or make her despise me. I knew I depended on her. I stood up quickly. She jumped at the sudden noise but rolled her eyes and looked down at her phone again.

“Liz?”

“Yeah?”

I didn’t answer. I just went over to her and sat down on the grass beside her, covering her shoulders with the thinner jacket. She just smiled sweetly, and that was enough for me to know that she was grateful. We didn’t need words, I didn’t like words, and I am sure she grew to dislike them as well.

I remembered her screaming when she got a text from that one shy boy in the class who she really liked during freshman year, I remembered her multiple male celebrity crushes, my heart shrunk at the thought that I had no chance with her.

“Liz?”

“Yeah?”

I just smiled, but she didn’t look at my mouth, she looked in my eyes.

“Why are you smiling when you don’t mean it?” She asked, rubbing her thumb on the corner of my lips, hinting that I should stop faking.

“Promise me something.” My eyes were threatening to close as I couldn’t bear to lie right to her face anymore.

“I promise.”

“You don’t even know what it is.”

“I still promise.”

I smiled again. I looked down at my dirty shoes I haven’t replaced ever since my feet stopped growing. This time a different memory flashed through my mind.

“You can borrow my bra if you want.” Liz offered as I looked down on the price tag.

“Nah, I’ll just wear my brother’s clothes, he left a lot of his hoodies and shirts. Plus, I’m flat.”

“Your brother will come back.”

“No, he won’t. He probably ODed somewhere behind a bush a week ago.” I shrugged.

“You’re terrible.” Liz rolled her eyes, she didn’t want to say I was being rude, since there was a 90% chance I was right.

We left the store without buying anything. I looked at the 10 dollar bill that was like a treasure to me. The most I’ve gotten throughout the 13 years of my life. I put it back in my pocket and put my finger through a hole in my worn out jeans.

“At least let me get you a new pair of pants.”

“No. Clothes are pointless and overrated, let’s get something to eat.”

We sat down on the pavement with some cheap fast food in our hands. I finished my drink and grabbed the straw, shoving dirty “bullets” in it. I looked around, choosing my target.

“Look, it’s Grayson. He made fun of Hannah the other day.” I aimed the straw at him at blew into it, hitting him in the face with the wet pieces of the napkin I used to wipe the ketchup away from my face. He hit us with the good old fashioned middle finger and walked away, wiping my spit from his ugly face.

“You have good aim.” Liz clapped, still laughing.

“I should do that for a living, shoot people for money.”

“Sure.”

Liz took it as a joke back then, but now, sitting on the ground beside her, still seeing her sparkling eyes in the dark, I hope she didn’t.

“Liz?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t break your promise.”

“I won’t.” She scooted a little closer to me and put her head on my shoulder.

“Liz?”

“Yeah?” I smiled at how she didn’t get tired of me repeating the same thing over and over again.

“Do you love me?”

“Yes.”

“Do you love me more than you loved Danny?”

“Who’s Danny?”

“That boy you were crazy about in 9th grade.”

“Yes.”

“Liz?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you right now?” She lifted her head and looked into my eyes.

“No, you can’t.” But I wasn’t paying attention to her words. I leaned in and kissed her lightly. I couldn’t tell if she was kissing back, I wanted to pull away but she chased my lips, and I smiled. I smiled wider than I’ve ever smiled before. I knew that she depended on me too.

The second alarm went off and I jumped up, looking over the house I have been observing from the hill for an hour now.

A man dressed in all black opened the door, looked around and stepped out on the balcony. He lit a cigarette, moving the ashtray closer to himself.

I grabbed the gun I hid in the grass, the metal flashed against Liz’s eyes again as she gasped, but didn’t say anything. I looked at her and mouthed “you promised” as I pulled the trigger. She turned away from me while I watched the man fall, the cigarette falling out of his hand.

I put the gun back in the bag and grabbed it.

“You know I don’t like questions, but I will answer them for you.” I was breathing heavily, we had a limited amount of time to leave, but I didn’t care.

“So you meant what you said 5 years ago?”

“I didn’t know I meant it back then, but this is the only thing I’m good at, Liz. You out of all people should understand.”

“How long have you been doing this?”

“7 months. 16 targets. This one was the biggest, I will get crazy money for it. I’ve been saving up.”

“For what?”

“I want to get out of this shithole. This place has too many bad memories. I need a fresh start right now.”

Liz closed her eyes, a tear rolled down her cheek and fell on the ground, or her leg, I couldn’t see.

“Are the people you kill... bad people?”

I smiled.

“Of course they are, I wouldn’t kill an innocent person.”

She sighed in relief.

“You know I can’t live without you right, Liz?”

“I know.” She whispered, I was expecting to hear the same words, but she was silent. For the first time in my life, I hated the silence.

“Liz?”

“Yeah?”

“I depend on you.”

“I know.” How I wanted for those two words to disappear from the English language.

“Liz?” My voice was trembling, this was my last hope.

“I’m leaving tomorrow... will you come with me?”

And silence once again. I felt an unfamiliar sting in my eyes, my throat felt like someone was putting knives through it. The silence lasted for 10 minutes, but it felt like 10 hours. I took a deep breath and finally stopped crying, I was ready to leave, but then I heard something I never thought I’d hear.

“Yeah.”

[scurvgirl]

What’s Normal Anyways?

More Wall AU!

Melarue belongs to @justanartsysideblog

They end up closing on the “modest” chateau quickly, and Melarue is quick to bring in contractors to get the work done in the house. The kitchen needs updating and a powder-bathroom needs to be added to the first floor as well as other general fixes around the house. The initial quote involved a six-week timeline that Melarue was not happy about. There were discussions that Kass was not a part of but the time has been halved and they will be moving in in three weeks. In the meantime, they live in the swanky apartment in the heart of Old Val Chevin.

There was a very polite argument on who should have the actual bedroom. Melarue won the argument and now Kass begrudgingly wakes up feeling ridiculously pampered in a gorgeous room bathed by warm morning sunlight. It’s not right, it’s their apartment, their money, they should be waking up in the gorgeous room bathed in warm sunlight, not lounging in the office that doesn’t even have a window.

They dedicate the rest of the house hunting day to procuring furniture and things to live by until they can move into the house. Among the things Melarue purchases are a TV, a large couch that she’s pretty sure they only purchased because she mentioned how nice it cushioned her back, and two thousand dollars’ worth of knives because “one should never skimp on proper cutlery.” By the end of the shopping trip, Kass felt sick – sticker sickness, she’s decided to call it, because it’s just…so much. Halfway through, they just started concealing price tags from her and always sent her on errands while they paid so she wouldn’t see how much they were spending.

It’s just another slap in the face of how ridiculously wealthy they are and how there is no way she is ever going to repay them. She locks herself in the bathroom that night and cries as quietly as she can, entirely too overwhelmed. It’s not that she isn’t grateful, or that she wants to leave them, just…she wants to know what it’s like to be completely free, to not be tied down by someone holding a chain or by guilt through a checkbook. And she knows that it isn’t going to fix itself immediately, that she needs to work and incur as few costs as possible, pay rent, her share of the utilities, buy her own food…but right now she feels like she can cry about it a bit. Also, she’s pregnant, she gets some leeway there she thinks.

To their credit, they don’t confront her about the crying and let her go to sleep without fuss. When she wakes up, she finds they’ve set the TV up. They smile at her and show her how to work the thing and together they find a movie they both like. They curl up on the large couch together and end up watching movies for the rest of the day, eating sandwiches for lunch and ordering cheap pizza for dinner. And by the end, she feels calmer, less shocked and more comfortable. They are wealthy, but not lofty, and they hold no ideas of keeping her captive or indebted.

The Monday after they arrive and settle on a house, Melarue’s job begins. They are bustling through the house, gathering their things, and eying her as they move from room to room. Kass sips her tea, curled up on the couch, trying not to chuckle.

“The first day is always the scariest, imekari. You’ll do fine,” she chides playfully. She sees them rolls their eyes as they pull out a pad and begin to write on it.

“I have a class from 10:30 to 11:30 then a class from 1:00 to 2:45, then I have office hours and meetings until six. Feel free to order any food you want, if you need me, you have my number, and my office is in Ameridan Hall, third floor, room 316.”

“I’ll be fine, Melarue,” she says, trying to ease some of the tension in them. She doubts they are nervous about their work which means they are nervous about her. For what? She is used to being left at home to her own devices. They went grocery shopping the other day, there is food and with the phones they just bought, she can order anything so…everything will be fine.

She has things to do, like job research and potentially looking into learning Orlesian. Still, Melarue pauses at the door.

“Have a good day, I know how to reach you if I need you. Go, mold the young minds of tomorrow!” She encourages them. Their lips twitch upwards.

“Alright. Do call if you need.” They turn and leave, taking a significant presence with them.

The apartment feels very, very large suddenly. The ceilings are impossibly high, the fireplace is too fine, and when she sneaks a peak at the street below from a window, she’s reminded very much of how she’s in Val Chevin. Adjustment is going to take an annoying amount of time.

Kass retreats from the window to the computer resting on the dining table and begins her search. She runs into the problem of not knowing Orlesian much more than she was expecting. Also, qualifications…she basically doesn’t have any. When she initially moved south with Qal, she worked at a sandwich shop. Then she got pregnant and Qal got a promotion at the same time, so…he wanted her to stop working.

Former Tamassrans don’t work in sandwich shops.

But now she needs work, but she doesn’t know the language, she doesn’t have a bank account, she doesn’t have really anything. Is she even here legally? She doesn’t know.

Panic tries to well up in her, but she squashes it quickly. Not the time, not the place. Instead, she pokes around until she finds the Qunari, Tal-Vashoth, and Vashoth Cultural Community Center of Val Chevin. It’s a mouthful, but everything on the website has Common and Qunlat translations available and they advertise aid in job finding, language courses, and even counseling.

Her day is decided then. Kass showers and dresses, then heads out with the directions to the community center written on a page from the notepad. Google told her that walking would only take twenty minutes, so she goes on foot, heading towards the university campus. The center is located across the street from the main library. It’s a beautiful area, with old roads and trimmed trees that are beginning to change in color with the season. There are students milling about, some are splayed out in the grassy areas with books surrounding them.

The center itself is slightly underwhelming. It’s a small white building with a modest sign out front declaring its name. She heads inside, a bell clinks announcing her presence and a cheery looking person pops up behind the welcome desk.

“Hello!” They say in accented Qunlat, “welcome to the together center!” They’re clearly vashoth, Kass thinks, with their accent and using the wrong word for ‘community’. That is a common mistake though, qunlat has roughly twenty different words surrounding the concept of community.

“Hi,” Kass replies and their eyes widen a bit.

“My name is Kassaran,” she says in Common. Qunlat, or at least the Qunlat she knows, doesn’t have phrases for names.

“A pleasure to meet you, Kassaran. I am Kalit, are you new to Val Chevin?”

Kass nods and her hand lands on her stomach, “I am. I um…it’s a bit of a complicated story…I was really just hoping to get some help with a few things?”

“Of course! What are you looking for?” Kalit shuffles over and sits expectantly at a computer.

“I need a job, but I don’t know Orlesian, and I don’t even know…” she purses her lips and wonders what she can and should not say. Her pause is long enough that Kalit stands up and comes around from the desk. They’re very short for a qunari, and they have exceptionally round features, she wonders if one of their parents is a dwarf.

They gently take her hands and smile up at her.

“You’re Tal-Vashoth, right?”

Kass nods.

“We don’t get many who have actually left the Qun, mostly we get vashoth students trying to find a place in a university that largely still doesn’t get it. But we can help, Shokrakar is in her office, who is really the best when it comes to counseling people on this.” Kalit releases one of Kass’s hands but holds the other as they lead her down the hall to a room with the door propped open.

“Dr. Valo?” Kalit says, pushing the door open.

“Yes, Kalit?”

“There is someone who could use your counseling services. This is Kassaran, she’s Tal-Vashoth.” Kalit guides Kass into the room. It’s a nice room, painted a soft blue decorated with black and white photos of various happy qunari people. Behind the large white desk sits an impressively tall qunari woman. Kass guesses her to be from Seheron, rather than Par Vollen with her black hair and dark eyes, the low-riding horns.

She looks up from her computer and smiles immediately Kass before rising.

“Hello, Kassaran. I’m Doctor Shokrakar Valo, please call me Shokrakar.”

“Nice to meet you,” Kass replies, shaking her hand. The doctor gestures for Kass to take a seat, thanks Kalit who leaves, shutting the door behind them.

“So, Kassaran, what can I help you with today?”

Kass swallows and fidgets with the hem of her shirt, “I really just need a job but I’m finding that to be unrealistic?”

Shokrakar nods, “Yes, unfortunately in Orlais, ninety-five percent of jobs require you speak Orlesian. But there are a few that don’t require it. I have a checklist of things I like to give people when looking for work – things like a bank account, payment plans for any debts, financial planning, those sorts of things that I have found many Tal-Vashoth specifically have a harder time with.”

“Yes, I…don’t really understand any of it. You know, under the Qun, everything is taken care of – you have your role, your monthly stipend dependent on your role that is attached to your citizen ID number, and that’s it.”

“Right, but it isn’t as different here as you think it is.”

For the next thirty minutes, Shokrakar explains as much as she can about the financial system in Orlais in how it will relate to Kass, even with the baby. There are apparently things like tax breaks for having children, and even programs for single parents to help support them – all dependent if she is here legally of course. Kass still doesn’t know, and she explains as best she can that this all happened in a way that she still doesn’t fully understand. The thirty minutes after that, Kass finds herself telling Shokrakar about how she left the Qun with Qal, to start a life happy and free from the toxicity plaguing their souls in the Qun.

“It wasn’t even a week ago that I was with my husband, locked in our apartment, and now I’m here and it’s great, but it’s just…”

“Overwhelming. You went from the Qun to Qal, that must have been…”

“Difficult, yes.” Kass rubs her stomach where the baby presses against.

“But I’m here now, and my…” what exactly is Melarue to her? Her friend? Rescuer? Roommate? None of the words seem right. Friend and roommate feel small for what Melarue is, and rescuer makes them seem like a superhero. Which…maybe they are, they have the aloofness of one, and the potential required tragic backstory – why else would they have their passenger? But friend…friend is closest.

“My friend, Melarue, they are very kind and are helping me.”

“So, you have a place to stay? Food? What about doctor appointments?”

Kass nods to the first two but pauses on the last. Doctor appointments, right. She shifts around and Shokrakar clicks around on her computer.

“I have doctor recommendations for you – when was your last appointment?”

Kass bites her lip. About that.

“Um. Qal said that women have been having babies since the beginning of time without doctors so…after we got the confirmation, he just said to keep indoors and eat well and I would be fine.”

Shokrakar blinks then nods very slowly, “…Alright. Well. That dathrasi can’t hurt you or your baby anymore. This is the information of a very trusted OB/GYN in the community. I will tell her to expect your call, she works at a clinic on the other side of campus that offers affordable care.” Kass takes the note, reading the name of the doctor carefully. Her brow furrows and while it seems like such an odd thing to be able to pick out….

“Forgive me, and you don’t have to answer, but…were you trained as a priestess?” She asks softly. Priestesses always had very specific looking handwriting, it was supposed to mirror that of Koslun’s.

Shokrakar pauses for a moment then smiles the sort of smile that Kass knows too well.

“Yes. But I loved science and the Qun and the priesthood…you know. I left to pursue science. I got a doctorate in sociology and now here I am, guiding people like a priestess would.” Her face is sad for a moment before she shakes it off.

“I think that’s good. The rest of us…we still need guidance, and while you aren’t serving the Qun, you’re still serving, you’re being true to yourself, and no matter what the Qun says – that’s good. You make the community strong.” It is a favored saying in qunlat to describe one who is valued and good. While it’s a remnant of the qun, she can see it light Shokrakar’s face up.

“Thank you, tama,” she replies. Kass’s face flushes, not in embarrassment but in acknowledgement of what she was. She knows that certain habits die hard, and some ways of being never change.

The rest of their talk goes well, she gets some information on how to enroll in Orlesian classes and some places that will hire her. Shokrakar tells her about a support group she has for specifically Tal-Vashoth persons. There is a qunari women’s support group as well, though it isn’t specifically Tal-Vashoth.

After their talk, Shokrakar decides to take her out for lunch. Because she has a class after lunch, they head to a café attached to the library where Kass orders a large spinach salad.

By the end of lunch, Kass feels like she’s made a friend and promises to keep in touch. Shokrakar suggests that perhaps Kass and Melarue come over for dinner some time. Shokrakar’s wife, Aada, would be more than happy to have them.

“It’s been great meeting you, Kassaran, feel free to call or text or email me any time – Tal-Vashoth have to stick together right?” Shokrakar jokes and Kass nods.

“Definitely. Thank you for everything!” Kass replies. They part ways, Shokrakar heading to her class and Kass heading back to the apartment. It is a beautiful day, the sky is filled with soft white puffy clouds, barely concealing any of the sun’s light. There is a gentle breeze rolling through the streets, ruffling Kass’s hair.

Today’s already been a good day, and it still has hours left! Speaking with Shokrakar has made her nostalgic for the better parts of the qun. Like the food. Kass believes that everyone is preferential to the food native where they grew up, there’s emotions and flavors there that other cuisines don’t have. And while the qun didn’t work out for her adult life, it wasn’t bad for her childhood. Like most children under the Qun, she enjoyed the feeling of having many children her age to play with, all under the care of the same Tamassrans.

When Kass arrives back at the apartment, she sets to work to creating a dish that takes hours upon hours to make. Not all the ingredients can be found at Orlesian grocery stores, she found, but she makes do with what was available.

She turns on some music and dances along as she cooks, feeling light and bright and happy. The apartment is filled with music and the smell of spices by the time Melarue arrives home. She hears them stop and pauses her singing before leaning over the kitchen island to wave at them.

“Welcome home! I hope you don’t mind, I went to the Qunari, Tal-Vashoth, and Vashoth Cultural Community Center today and it made me miss traditional foods so much. I hope you like spice!” She declares happily, dancing back to the large pot on the stove. She stirs the pot then tosses in the chicken that had been previously pan-frying. She covers the pot, checks on the rice, then sets to heating up some bread to go along with it all.

She turns to see Melarue’s wandered into the kitchen, sniffing the air with a smile.

“That smells delicious,” they say and she beams in return.

“Good! I hope you like it, if you don’t that’s fine though! Qunari foods tend to be polarizing for non-qunari,” she babbles, reaching up into the cabinets, pulling out several dishes for them to use.

“Normally there are several other spices, but I understand that Par Vollen doesn’t quite like letting them go. If you leave the qun you shouldn’t have any of its comforts – as if the qun owns the plants on the island as well,” she continues, bitterness lacing her tone. She blinks then shakes her head.

“It still has fifteen more minutes, if you would like to get changed into something more comfortable.”

“I can help, if you need. I was not expecting you to cook dinner,” they tell her, rolling up their sleeves, revealing long elegant hands.

“Um,” she hums, trying to think of things for them to do. She ends up handing over the warming of the bread which is busy work at this point. She apologizes though, it’s just that this last part is really nothing – the chicken just needs to simmer in the pot with the sauce for a bit. They seem understanding enough about it though, which is reassuring.

They do end up changing before dinner and by the time they’re back, she’s making their plate. They take a bite and hum in happiness.

“This is delicious, Kassaran, thank you.”

A small flicker of pride and happiness flares up in her chest, as well as some surprise. Qal had always expected dinner when he came home. But Melarue seems surprised and to be genuinely enjoying what she’s made.

Worry and tension eases from her shoulders as she digs into her own food.

“What did you do at the Community Center?” They ask.

“I talked with a Dr. Valo? She’s a sociology professor at the university. I wanted to see if they could help me find a job. Um, I…don’t think it is going to be simple? A lot of jobs require proficiency in Orlesian, which I am going to learn. Dr. Valo said she could get me enrolled in language classes at the university, so…hopefully I’ll be able to get a job and start maybe paying you back for everything you’ve done and that’s a lot and I am so thankful for everything really and I want to pay you back but it’s probably going to take some time and I am really rambling, I’m sorry!”

Melarue blinks then wipes at their mouth a napkin, “Kassaran, you don’t need to feel indebted to me. If you acquire a job and find means to leave and that is what you want, I will not stop you. I will not hold any debt over you. But thank you, you are very kind to want to pay me back.”

“I want to pay rent,” she blurts.

They pause then nod, “That is fine, as long as it is proportional to your income and does not impair you.” That is more than fair and she bows her head in thanks.

“I-I also need to go see the doctor.”

Their attention snaps to a point at that, “Is something wrong? We can go now.”

“No, no, everything is fine right now, I just…haven’t been able to go since getting the pregnancy confirmed…” The concern in their face does not wane, if anything they look even more concerned. After a moment, they release a long breath.

“Did Dr. Valo give you any recommendations?” Their voice is even but there is a sharpness to it and Kass wonders if their passenger is responsible for it. But there aren’t any cloying shadows or anything and their nails a normal length, so…maybe not?

“She did. A Dr. Merev – she works at the clinic on the south end of campus?”

“Alright. Do you know if you’ll need payment for it?”

“Probably, Shokrakar, uh Dr. Valo, said that she is affordable but probably still needs money, I’m sorry.”

Melarue waves her off, “It is no trouble, you and the baby need care, I’m more than happy to help.”

“Do…do you want to go with me then? Since it’ll be your payment information. I-I wouldn’t feel comfortable just using it myself,” she says, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

“I can go depending on the time.”

“What time would work for you?”

“I have nothing on Friday after three.”

“I will shoot for something after three on Friday, then.” Kass smiles and they both return to their food. After a few minutes, the silence draws on for what feels like a damning amount of time.

“How was your first day?” She asks.

Melarue shrugs, “It was good. I’m excited to be teaching again, even if some of the professors are…well let’s just say not all of them are aware of their history as they should be.”

“Oh dear.”

“It’s nothing dire, more annoying than anything. I’m afraid I frightened some of my human students off already,” they chuckle in a way that say that they are not in fact afraid about anything, or annoyed, but delighted at their current state of affairs.

“Well it sounds you are where you’re supposed to be. Those kids are lucky to have you,” as am I, she thinks.

“What classes did you have today?”

“Introduction to Elven History and a seminar course – The Dales: An Elven Perspective. The introduction course is the one where I am sure some of the human students are less than pleased, but then if they want their human-centric and friendly history they can take that oaf Dr. Renaudin’s class.”

Kass chuckles, they are so passionate about it!

“They would be fools to miss out on your class. But then, oafs do tend to attract fellow fools.” She tears her bread and begins to sop up the sauce, spooning some chicken along with it.

“What makes him oafish?”

They finish chewing and sigh, “Where do I start?”

As it turns out, there are many things that make Marcel Renaudin an oaf – an ignorant, racist oaf at that. Kass is by no means an expert on history, particularly elven history, but she knows that marginalized populations often get their history…reworked to fit in with the oppressors’ history. It happens in the Qun, even, mostly erasing the legitimacy of rebellions lead by Tal-Vashoth and Saare – mages.

This Marcel Renaudin is the sort of historian to endorse such…revisionist history as far as Kass can tell. Sure, Melarue is biased but Melarue is also sharp and Kass suspects they have lived through a lot of the history they’re talking about. So…she’s going to take their word over his.

Their conversation lasts past dinner, and they help her clean up. They’re rather insistent about it since she cooked. She “needs to get off her feet”. It is…a very different change of pace. She’s used to cleaning up. Qal would sit in the living room, winding down from the day, watching TV, and then she’d slip into the bedroom to read.

But Qal isn’t here and Melarue is kind. Kass sits down on the couch and clicks on the TV. There is…a ridiculous number of channels. How does she even choose? She settles eventually on the Home and Gardening channel. There is a show featuring a couple searching for a home in Denerim, Ferelden.

After Melarue finishes with the dishes, they take a seat next to her with a stack of papers.

“You already have things to grade?” She asks incredulously.

“No, I took a survey in the classes on some of the common misconceptions about elven history. I’m going through them, taking notes to see what I need to focus on.”

“That’s clever,” she says. They smile and they fall into a companionable silence as Kass watches her show and Melarue works through their papers. Every so often she looks over at them, sometimes their face is relaxed and simply reading, nodding along and making marks on a little notepad, others their brows are drawn and their lips are pursed. Sometimes they look to be incredulous, pen hovering indecisively over the notepad.

Their eyes flick up to hers behind their glasses, and she blushes. She quickly turns back to her show – the couple picks the second house, which seems silly to Kass since it was so out of budget.

The night continues quietly like that until Kass decides to head to bed. Melarue smiles at her and tells her to sleep well. For the first time in forever, Kass sleeps diagonally on a bed and it is glorious. She wakes up with a smile, stretching her body out over the bed. It is her domain! Her little kingdom of sheets and blankets and pillows – and she is the queen of all things soft and happy…for all of five minutes before her bladder screams in protest.

She relieves herself, showers, then heads into the kitchen for breakfast and her morning tea. Melarue’s nose wrinkles at her tea and she cocks her head.

“Do you not like tea?”

“No, it is odorous leaf water.”

She laughs at that, “It can be stinky, this is true. This blend is supposed to help the baby though, so, down it goes.”

“Well, of course if it’s for the baby,” they reply, reaching for their travel mug of not-tea.

“Did you eat breakfast? I’m going to scramble up some eggs if you’d like some,” she offers.

“Not this morning, I have early class, but I will be home earlier.”

“Alright, I was thinking maybe pasta for dinner?”

“Sounds delicious.” They grab their bag and wave bye to her as they leave, much easier today than yesterday she notes. Good, she doesn’t want them to worry.

The rest of the week follows in a similar pattern – she wakes up in time to tell Melarue to have a good day, she has breakfast, then leaves to go explore the city. She finds she really likes the university campus and a small square that’s a five-minute walk from campus. She enjoys getting all the fresh air and she spends a fair amount of time of walking through the university’s gardens. The house has such potential for a truly lovely garden, she needs ideas of what grows well down here.

She brings up the gardening ideas with Melarue who seems very eager to begin their garden. Wonderful! It’ll be a good weekend activity, and if she stays with them, the baby will have a gorgeous garden to grow up in and hopefully tend to themselves.

Kass makes dinner each night and Melarue cleans up. She begins to explore more of the channels and finds some programs she likes. It is amazing to her that there is a section dedicated to being ‘on demand’, full of shows and movies that she can just say ‘I want to watch this’ and boom – she can.

She discovers the amazing terrible-ness of Lifetime movies and honestly? She’s hooked.

The only day that ends up being a bit odd is Friday when she heads to the clinic with Melarue for her 3:30 appointment.

She wasn’t nervous before about it, partially because she hasn’t felt bad because of the pregnancy. She had some morning sickness at the beginning, but everything she read said that was normal. But now she keeps fidgeting with her sleeves, her purse, nibbling on her lip. The baby moves, seeming to know that their mama is nervous.

They take a seat in the waiting room and Melarue sets to filling out financial information.

She’s called back at 3:45. She stands up but Melarue does not, she looks at them quizzically.

“Do…would you rather not come back?” She asks. She knows that it is a bit…out of the ordinary to ask a friend to come back with her, but, well…she could use the support. But only if they don’t mind!

“I can come back if you’d like,” they offer carefully and she bites her lip before nodding wordlessly. Asking for help is difficult, particularly after everything else. But Melarue doesn’t hesitate – they grab their things and step up next to her. They follow a nurse back into a room where various measurements are taken. Blood pressure, height, weight, oral medical history (that is difficult to give since she has to translate everything from qunlat and medical terminology is always weird with that).

She changes into the typical paper gown for gynecological visits.

“Why are these offices always cold for these visits? Like they know we’re going to be pretty much naked, why is it cold?” She bemoans, pulling the robe closer to her body in a vain attempt to feel warmer.

“Like they expect me to expose myself not just their prying eyes but also to the cold air? They are asking too much,” yes she is whining, and no she doesn’t care. She’s cold, she’s pregnant, and she’s freaked out. She can whine.

“It is oddly chilly in here,” Melarue murmurs, looking up. They cock their head and their eyes flutter shut. After a moment, Kass hears something shift in the ceiling. Melarue opens their eyes and warmer air begins to flow out from a vent in the ceiling.

“OH!” She turns to them, “you’re too sweet! Thank you…and thank you for coming back, I know it’s weird but…we’re not exactly normal.”

“I do not mind, Kassaran. I’m…glad you feel comfortable having me here.”

There is a nervousness to them that has been present all week. As concerned as she has been about them letting her stay, she’s beginning to think they’ve been equally concerned on her leaving or somehow rejecting them over their condition. And her insistence on getting independent can’t be helping that.

“I really appreciate it, everything. You’re a wonderful friend.”

The doctor of course decides to come in before they can reply.

“Hello! I’m Dr. Merev.” The doctor billows in, quickly shaking Melarue and Kassaran’s hand. She looks down at Kass’s belly and glances at Melarue.

“Is the baby –

“Not theirs! Um, I mean…I have, had, a husband and he’s qunari so the baby is on a total qunari baby track. Ten months.”

“I’m a friend,” Melarue clarifies and the doctor nods, going along with it while she pulls on some gloves.

“That’s fine, I was just checking because elven-qunari children usually have different gestation than a qunari-qunari baby. Normally shorter with more heartburn for some reason, but that’s not the case. So, how far along are you?”

“Twenty-one weeks and…six days,” Kass answers. Dr. Merev goes through several more questions and it doesn’t take long before Kass has to explain that no, she hasn’t had doctor appointments because of Qal. Like Shokrakar and Melarue, Dr. Merev pauses for a moment and Kass shifts around awkwardly.

“Alright, you’re here now and we’re going to make sure you and the baby are healthy.” Dr. Merev goes through what feels like pages of questions, everything from diet to lifestyle to how easily Kass conceived, if she’s noticed anything unusual, as well as any pre-existing conditions she’s aware of.

Then comes the joy of having cold goo being squirted onto her abdomen.

“Since you haven’t had any doctor appointments, I’m guessing you haven’t heard your baby’s heartbeat.” Kass shakes her head. She knows that it’s normal to have heard the heartbeat months before now but then again, ‘normal’ doesn’t include Qal, she guesses. Dr. Merev moves the wand thing over Kass’s abdomen and then –

Wub wub wub wub wub wub.

“Oh,” she breathes. She’s not sure if the reaction is the same since she’s felt her little baby moving and kicking around already, so this isn’t the first real confirmation of life in her but it is…something else. That’s her baby’s heartbeat, a strong, happy heartbeat. She stares at the screen, watching her little one’s head and body and oh! There’s a little hand!

“Good news, everything looks good – ten fingers, ten toes, the skull looks good for proper future horn development. Your child is not going to be hornless,” Dr. Merev says, which Kass was expecting. Hornless children are rare for qunari, hence the stance that hornless children are ‘special’. She likes the horns anyways.

“A very normal looking baby, congratulations. Now, for some news you may not like – because of the lack of prenatal care, and because of the high stress environment you have been in, it has greatly increased the risk of this pregnancy. Your blood pressure is high, which is a risk factor for preeclampsia. Qunari pregnancies outside of the Qun are already higher risk pregnancies that human, elven, and dwarven pregnancies. So, you need to be in low stress environments. Not bed rest, but no strenuous work, low sodium diet, make sure you take your prenatal vitamins.”

Kass nods, she will make sure to take the vitamins, but the low stress environment…

“We just moved here and I don’t have a job, I wanted to get one, help pay rent, utilities, can I still do that?”

“I would strongly advise against it. If you need it to live, then do what you need to do.”

She leans back against the examination table and takes a deep breath. Dammit, dammit, dammit.

You can’t work while pregnant! Qal had yelled at her, demanding she turn in her notice at the sandwich shop. In some sick way, he was right – but because of what he has done. She knows that. It’s not…he’s…. Just dammit. Dammit it all.

She can just see her debt to Melarue, whether they recognize it or not, rising and rising. She’s not a small woman, she eats, and she’s growing a person, so she’s probably eating more than normal. She incurs a cost of utilities, shit they even bought a house because of her and she can’t even work to help them.

“Kassaran, there is no issue with this. Your and the baby’s health come first, I am happy to share my home with you,” Melarue tells her softly. She covers her face and works on breathing so she doesn’t cry.

“I know, and I am so, so thankful. I just…I’m this lump. I don’t want to be this burden that just weighs you down when you want to do things.” She sniffles and tries to hold the deluge back. It’s just not fair to them to have her laying around the apartment or the house doing nothing. Sure, she can cook and clean for them but she hardly sees that as enough.

“No, no, you are not a burden, Kass. The farthest thing from it. Even when we had that wall between us, you made every day better. I am more than happy to help you.” She feels their hand gently rest on her left horn, slowly running their hand back in a reassuring gesture. She leans into their touch for a moment before moving her hands from her face.

“…Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent.”

They haven’t given her any reason to doubt them. From just taking her all the way here to buying the house to…every day, spending time with her.

She exhales a long breath and turns to the doctor.

“Alright, but I am going to take Orlesian classes, I might as well with all this down time for the next five months.”

“That is an excellent plan,” Dr. Merev says and proceeds to clean Kass up and revert the room back to normalcy. Kass is given a prescription for her prenatal vitamins and sets up her next appointments before leaving with a cute little sonogram of her baby.

She can’t work but…she’ll make it work. She’ll cook, clean, keep the house, and it’s just because it seems fair. If Melarue is going to be working and bringing home the bacon, so to speak, then she can keep a nice home for them.