#jewelry box elves au | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

courageouslyfearless · 4 years

Text

Dream World (Part 2) ☾ Baekhyun

Genre: Fantasy AU

Pairing: Baekhyun X Reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Requested Tags: @itsbaekhyunsbutt @strawbaeri-s @bbyunz

| Part 1 |

The Kingdom of Akron had changed drastically in a few months time. When news from the royal court spread through the lands asking the elves to come back home, most of them hesitated. It must be a trick, they thought, the queen must be up to something. Baekhyun knew better. The queen's sudden change of heart was Y/N's doing. She had written the happy ending she had promised. "Happy" was relative. He was content that he could ask his people to come back to Akron, begging them to trust this to be real and not some sort of plot. But deep down, Baekhyun was devastated, as this was only possible because of a woman he was never going to see again. He did his best to push these thoughts to the back of his mind so he could get through his days. But he couldn't chase away the memories that plagued his brain at night. He questioned his own sanity often; he missed her so. More often than not, he dreamed of her as well. It was his own personal prison, inside his head.

It was getting burdensome for him to pretend he wasn't completely and utterly heartbroken. His people looked up to him for guidance, he couldn't afford to show his weaknesses. But truthfully, he was finding it difficult to care as well. So eventually he made one of the toughest choices he's ever had to make; he resigned from his position as ruler of the elves, to someone far more capable, his best friend and mightiest warrior in their army, Chanyeol.

After the crowning ceremony, as his people celebrated, he had tried to make a quiet exit from the festivities. Elves enjoyed drinking ale and playing dangerous games once inebriated. He wasn't in the mood to play them. Unfortunately, as he worked his way through the people, he kept being stopped by folks who wanted to thank him for bringing them home and ruling them after his father's death. He waved their words away, simply responding with "I didn't do much." Which was the truth, he hadn't actually done much, but he couldn't tell them that. So he kept pushing his way through to leave but once he was almost out, Chanyeol appeared in front of him. Baekhun sighed.

"I just need to get out," he said, looking up at his tall friend, hoping he'd understand.

Chanyeol's eyes studied the prince with careful thought.

"You're leaving, aren't you? It wasn't just about ruling, you don't want to be in Akron."

Baekhyun was surprised that his friend had read him so well. He gave him a small smile.

"That was a pretty good guess," he started, then his smile faded, "Everything about this place reminds me of her. I can't do it anymore. I'm going back to the mountains. I heard there's still a group of elves staying there because they don't trust the Queen. I will try to convince them that it is safe to come back." An excuse he knew, but it felt better to think of his journey as a mission and not as him giving up and running away from the memory of her.

Chanyeol read the truth in his face as clear as if he were telling him. "If that's what you need to do to feel better then do it. But you've never been a man that loses hope. Not once have I seen you surrender. Why start now?"

"What are you trying to tell me, Chanyeol? I told you there's nothing I can do. She's gone... forever." That last part hurt to say, he almost felt like he couldn't breathe every time the truth hit him.

"You were set on keeping her here once, remember? You searched high and low for a spell to do it. Then finding the ingredients," Chanyeol shuddered at the memory, "getting the troll's heart was some nasty business," he shook his head, "anyways, what I'm trying to say is, you found a way once. If you really can't live without her, then do it again. Just find another way."

Baekhyun stared at his friend. Could he do it? Could he defy the laws of nature.

"I used up all the magic," he said, defeated.

Chanyeol groaned, exasperated, "Magic doesn't just vanish from existence. It's all around us, in the trees, in the river, in every fiber and molecule of life, there is magic. It is sown into the very essence of the world. You just have to learn how to harness it. I'd start with the nymphs, if I were you."

Baekhyun thought about it. He had nothing to lose by trying. He was set on leaving Akron anyways, why not leave with some hope as company?

Finally, he smiled. At this, Chanyeol was relieved, because it was the most genuine smile he'd seen from him since he lost her. He took this as a good sign.

"Now go get your princess."

Meanwhile, you were wrestling with the tape that had sealed and kept safe your possessions inside the cardboard boxes. Unpacking had become quite the chore as you couldn't find the box cutter or literally anything with an edge to cut through the tape. Your new apartment looked like a war zone and you expected to come out as the victor. If only you could find something to...

"Keys, of course!"

You grabbed your set of keys dangling from the hook by the door and searched through the label on the boxes to find the ones that you wanted to open first. The one with "bedroom" written on it with a black sharpie caught your eye first. After cutting through the tape, you opened it to go through your belongings. It was mostly books and novels. You smiled, that is, until you spotted a familiar blue cover with stars on it. Your dream journal. You hadn't opened it since... well, since that time. Writing after losing him was unthinkable. There was no way you could ever write another character to life, let alone love them as you had loved him.

You reached for it now with trembling hands and a racing heart. The journal was in pretty bad shape. You had tried getting rid of it once, throwing it in a lake during your spring break vacation, hoping the tightness in your chest would subside. Watching it sink under did the opposite. You had rushed into the water to save it. To save him. Or the memory of him. That afternoon you hurried back home, to find a way to dry and save it from being completely ruined. As painful as it was, you didn't want to forget him. He wasn't part of the real world, but he was real to you.

You opened it now, for the first time, flicking through the wrinkled pages. It was still readable but only to you, the one who had written every word and sentence on it. The tightness in your chest had become a permanent resident and you no longer let it have that much control over you. You ignored it this time as well.

With tears burning in your eyes you started reading. Akron. The Queen. Baekhyun. You smiled at the part where you guys met.

The dress was too revealing, you worried, staring at your reflection in the mirror. You kept pulling up at the fabric over your bust , hoping it would show less cleavage. Your maidens hovered about with jewelry and powders and anything that could make you look more regal. The shortest one, with the dazzling smile and gentle fingers, placed a gold crown on your head. You weren't used to the weight of it. It felt awkward. You thought it made you feel off balance.

Three knocks at the door announced a new visitor.

"Come in," with the words, you also breathe in deeply, maybe a little too quickly as you become dizzy from the action. Your're still in a daze when he walks in.

Plain brown pants. Plain brown tunic. And that's all that is plain about him.

As you finally fix your eyes on his face, your heartbeat picks up its pace. His smile was the first thing that drew you in. It was playful and kind at the same time. You were confused as to how he managed that. His eyes were an ordinary brown at first glance, but the way they held your gaze was anything short of extraordinary. It felt like he could see right through you all the way down to your soul, where you kept the most private things about yourself hidden. You found yourself at a loss for words and at the widening of his smile you knew he could tell he had an effect on you.

"Your majesty," he finally spoke, "my name is Baekhyun, I was told I will have the pleasure of working as your servant from this day onward."

You will never forget the way he spoke then. As if he knew you, your heart and he was ready to take it for himself. You should've known then that he'd succeed. How could he not? He was confident, funny, kind and sometimes a little naughty as well. There was nothing predictable about him. He challenged you almost every occasion he could.

There was only one time you could recall when he was none of these things. Just one time, when his confidence left his shoulders, and his eyes couldn't seem to find yours. You remember how quiet his voice was as he reached with trembling fingers to hold your hand for the first time. You'd been crying, reminiscing the scene at home. Your parents had been arguing. But the situation had escalated quickly. Words turned into shoving, shoving turned into objects being thrown. The next thing you saw was your mom slide across the dining room floor and into the kitchen, her body hitting the refrigerator. She'd dislocated her arm from the force. You were compelled to go to the hospital with her and lie about how she got hurt. They always made you lie for them. Once back home you'd had to clean up the broken glass and the blood stains on the floor from someone's bare feet who had walked over it.

He'd cried with you as you told him, holding you in his arms like you were his to hold. And you let him, because when everything in your world felt wrong, the warmth of his embrace was the only thing that felt right. His strength was the only thing keeping you together. Just that once did he hesitate. Only that time did he hold back. The next time you dreamed of him, he stole his first kiss from your lips. He never hesitated after that.

So how could you have stopped the beautiful force of nature that was Baekhyun from taking your heart? Just as the sun comes out every day and the moon reflects its light at night, just as everything that happens without fail, it was inevitable to fall in love with him.

But now all that was left of him was this dreadful looking journal and the memories in your head, which will wither away with time until you question if it even happened at all. His eyes will fade like the ink of your favorite purple pen on these wrinkled pages. His smile will become jaded by reality, distorted by the smudged words on a piece of paper. But the worst part was that if he felt for you as he had confessed the last time that you were together, then he was feeling as hopeless and heartbroken as you were. That thought made you sadder than anything else.

You closed the journal gently, as to not cause more damage to it. Then you walked to your room and stored it in the top drawer of the night stand by your bed. You needed to stay focused on the task at hand, which was to unpack everything still stored away in boxes. Pushing thoughts of him out of mind, you went back to work.

Once you are more or less done putting away the stuff in the kitchen, you lay down on the carpeted floor of the small living room. You had no furniture for this space yet, so it was empty. You closed your eyes slowly as they had become heavy with exhaustion. You knew if you kept it up for too long, you'd fall asleep right there. That's how tired you were. So instead, you force yourself to stand up. You decided to take a warm bath and then head out to bed.

You rarely did nice things for yourself, but candles had always been a frivolous need of yours. You lit one in the bathroom as you watched the tub fill up. Once the water was high enough, you undressed and got in the tub. You laid down, resting your head back on the wall as the candle spread the sweet aroma of coconut sunrise in the air.

At this level of relaxation, it doesn't take long for you to drift off into a soft dream.

You were surrounded by tall trees that towered over you like some kind of mythical giants. You glanced up at them, wondering if they would suddenly come to life. They didn't, but the thought that in a dream it was possible, kept you alert to your surroundings. Looking away from them, your gaze comes down to what's in front of you, a vast lake. There were tiny lights shimmering over the water, flying into the air and swirling in perfect unison like small tornadoes. It took you a few seconds to realize they weren't lights.

"Fairies," you whispered. But as if they had heard you speak, they stopped moving, and this made it easier to see their tiny little wings flapping to keep them in the air. You kept quiet and eventually they continued their flight ritual.

"Pixies, actually."

Your heart stopped. Literally, skipped a beat, painfully reminding you that it was still in your chest.

You recognized the voice. You'd know it anywhere. But you were afraid of looking back. You were afraid of hoping it was him and not see his face. You hadn't dreamed of him since the pen incident. So you stayed like that, frozen in place, fear rooting you to that spot.

After a few seconds passed by, you felt it. A hand, resting on your arm, the touch light as a feather, bringing goosebumps across your skin.

"You said writing was the only thing getting you through tough times, how have you survived this long without it?"

You took a deep breath, still unable to move but ready to respond anyways.

"I can't write another you."

That was all you could say. You knew he'd understand the implication of your words. You couldn't risk loving anyone else. You couldn't risk forgetting him. Or replacing him. You wanted your heart to be his and no one else's.

"Then write me again. Write about all the moments we should've lived together. Write me into life."

What was he saying? Why did he want you to torture yourself by writing about him?

"But it hurts," you find yourself saying, tears welling up under your eyes.

"I know, princess, I know. But I need you to write me as if I was never gone."

You turned around then, half expecting to find him standing there, but you were met by a rush of wind that carried his last words as a whisper.

"Write me."

You woke up from the dream in a start, looking around your bathroom like he might appear there from thin air. But as reality set in, your heart sank. Of course he would never be there. Even in the dream you couldn't see him. You brushed away a stray tear from your cheek. He wanted you to write him. About him. You didn't know if it was really him or just your brain playing games with you again, but it was the only sign you'd received from him in months. You wanted to believe it was really him. Your broken heart needed to hope it was him.

So that night you wrote him. Every detail. Every habit. Every look. The way that his lips taste. The hint of gold in his eyes when sunlight washed over his face. The feel of his hand on your cheek. Anything that you could remember about him.

You also wrote about moments that never happened. You wrote him as someone who walked in the real world, facing your kind of problems. Working a 9 to 5 to pay the bills. Running to the corner store to get you that chocolate ice cream you'd been craving since the week started. Eating ramen several times a week when money was tight. Sitting on the couch, the T.V. on in the background as he watched your face instead of the screen. You wrote about anything you could think of. Anything that you wished you could do with him. You painted his image with vivid and ordinary description, because you wished to live the simplest and most common every day moments with him.

You lost track of time again, as you often did when you were writing. Your hand ached by the time you stopped. You could feel the beginnings of a blister on your middle finger from where you'd been holding the pen with fierce purpose. The shot of adrenaline that hearing his voice gave you had fueled you for hours. But now exhaustion was pulling at your eyelids, making it hard to keep them open. With a sigh, you laid down in bed and hid your body under the covers. You fell asleep then, staring at the ceiling, hugging your journal close to your chest and with a wish in your mind to meet him in your dreams again.

But no such thing happen. You had a dreamless and uneventful night. When you woke up, it was from the sunlight hitting your face because in your tiredness you had forgotten to close the blinds to your windows.

"Stupid sun," you mumbled at your pillow. Covering you face with a blanket to give your eyes time to adjust to the brightness.

"What did the sun ever do to you, princess?"

You froze. Literally, stopped moving in your bed at the sound of his voice.

I've finally lost it, you thought, I've finally lost my mind.

That must be the only explanation. His voice, had been so clear it almost sounded like he was next to you. Writing about him last night must have driven you over the edge. You laughed at yourself and where your imagination had taken you. It wasn't funny, but still you laughed, because there was nothing left for you but to do so, or you'd end up in tears.

"I missed your laugh," you heard the voice again.

This time you didn't laugh. You couldn't. The voice was closer and with the tone you were able to visualize what his face would look like as he spoke. He'd be cupping your face in his hands, his eyes holding yours as if to project his honesty through that one look. It was such a beautiful image the one in your brain, that you could couldn't move to confront it. If you indeed had lost your mind, at least you'd have his words to keep you company.

"Y/N." This was the second time you had ever hear him call you by your name and upon hearing it, your heart did somersaults. You pulled the blanket down, ever so slowly, afraid of meeting an empty space besides you.

But it wasn't empty. Baekhyun laid there, on the side of the bed that was always unoccupied. Until now.

You felt your eyes widening, but you couldn't open your mouth to speak. You didn't know what to say. You were speechless.

Baekhyun smiled as you stared at him. Reaching a hand to touch your face. His touch was warm against your skin. You almost closed your eyes to enjoy the sensation, but you were afraid that he'd be gone when you opened your eyes again. So you kept staring at him, but finally found the will to speak.

"Is this a dream?"

He smiled wider, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he moved closer to you. He only stopped when his face was an inch away from yours. Your breath caught in your throat with the proximity. He was so close you caught a whiff of a woodsy scent that you remembered as exclusively his from your time in Akron.

"Baek-"

Before you could finish saying his name, he trapped your lips with his in a kiss. You didn't want to close your eyes. You didn't want to end the fantasy. But he kissed you fervently and you found yourself losing the will quickly as you kissed him back as desperately. His hand moved under the blanket that covered you and found your waist, pulling your body closer from there until it was completely against his.

As quickly as he started the fire, as swift he was about putting it out when he stopped kissing you. You almost whined in protest and he chuckled in response.

"Does that feel real enough to you?" he asked.

You opened your eyes to meet his beautiful brown ones. The sun was hitting them just the right amount and you could see your reflection in them. You pressed a hand to his face, touching him for the first time.

"How is this possible?" You wanted to ask other questions too, but this was the most important one. "You told me... you told me you used all the magic in Akron. That I would never return once I left."

He smiled, that smile of his that you loved. The one that made him look years younger than he is. His playful smile. "There is always more magic to be found and to be created. A friend reminded me of that. You couldn't come back to me, so I came to you instead."

Your heart was beating so fast that you wondered how it didn't just stop working. There was no way it was healthy for it do that every time you were with Baekhyun. You were still confused and he was being very vague.

"But how did you do it?" you pressed.

He reached for your hand, the one still touching his face and intertwined your fingers with a look of awe in his eyes.

"I didn't. You did," he paused, his gaze meeting yours, "you actually wrote me to life".

You thought he must be kidding, so you waited for the punchline. But his one never came. He was serious.

"I did what?!"

He smiled at you with so much fondness, seeing you as confused as you were.

"You wrote me to life, Y/N. First in your dreams and now here."

"You're real? Like real real?" you knew you sounded idiotic, but it was something hard to wrap your head around.

Baekhyun was a character to a story that you poured a lot of love and time into. Some writers like to say that their characters have a life of their own. But it's just an expression, it's supposed to mean they basically write themselves. They come without effort. But what he is saying is very different. What he is saying sounds so incredibly crazy yet wonderful and though you don't want to let yourself feel hopeful, a seed had taken root in your heart. A seed that you hoped would bloom into reality, a reality where you could live a life of happiness with the one you love.

You knew he could see it on your face, what you were thinking and what you were feeling. So he finally stopped being cryptic.

"I am real. While you wrote me and created a connection between me and the real world, I had one created from Akron to here. The field with the lake where I spoke to you last night, well, the water pixies conjured a portal from our side and you fabricated one from this side, through your journal. Now I can come and go as long as you don't destroy the journal."

He was being truthful, not a note of humor in his expression. You couldn't believe it. It was something out of a fantasy novel. Before you knew it, tears were clouding your vision. Baekhyun reacted as quickly as usual, out of pure instinct, arm draped protectively around your body. You hid your face in the crook of his neck to hide your crying face from him.

"I can't believe I get to live with you." You words are strained with emotion, but you say them anyways.

"I can't believe I get to love you," he says in return. "I thought... I thought I'd lost you forever." His voice cracked at the end. This made you pull back to look at his face. You were surprised to see him crying as well. You knew his pain and that sense of loss because you had felt it yourself.

"Baekhyun." You didn't know what else to say.

"I love you, princess. In Akron and here, in a world I know nothing about."

You smiled at this. The most genuine smile you had ever smiled before. You finally let yourself think about a future with him, because for the first time, it was possible.

"I love you too. I can't wait to teach you all about it. There's a lot you'll love and... well, like you told me once, it's not all rainbows and butterflies."

He smiled at that and you did as well.

Overcome with emotion you kiss him again. Because you can. Because you thought you would never get to do it again. You kiss him and he kisses you back. You both try to project how much love and devotion you have for each other. Your love is literally one from stories. Made up. But more real than anything you had ever experienced in your life. And now you will get to live it and test it and maybe even get that happy ending people like to dream about.

____________________________________

* Masterlist *

____________________________________

A/N: So that came out very meh. But also I always think that about the stuff I write so it’s probably me being a perfectionist. Anyways, hope you still enjoyed it! Thank you so much for the support and love you showed for this random idea I had that turned into this story. Love you guys!

44 notes · View notes

captusmomentum · 7 years

Text

Okay! Here’s this monstrosity! finally finished the thing from yesterday. basically a collection of drabbles of Thenvunin/Inan/Uthvir in an ancient au/looking glass setting bc I had ideas and they made the most sense there (and if i tried to pick from the like 50 other kinds of au i’d’ve died). Deciding to post them all together just bc ????? it made sense in my head????? i dunno. Probably should have gone thru this shit to check for oocness at minimum but w/e I’’m sick of looking at this shit so it is what it is.

Thenvunin + Uthvir are @feynites‘s Inanallas is mine

Notes:

drabble about Inan’s history in an elvhenan setting, not mandatory for this to make sense but it’s Useful

Thenvunin was with Mythal and her other high ranking servants in a meeting, listening attentively to his Lady and discussing with his follow servant the division of labor and various elements related to their new tasks. He notices a small dark shadow in the corner of his eye, moving towards where they all sat. He realizes quickly as they move more into his field of vision that it’s not a threat but a servant. Inanallas he registers as they kneel down next to Mythal’s chair and whisper something to her, a small dark blue figure like a shadow next to Mythal’s great expanse of gold and white.

He has never interacted with them, or even formally met them—or seen their face he realizes suddenly, but he knows of them, everyone does. It was quiet a stir when they has been found by Dirthamen’s people in the wilds being raised by spirits and animals, the news had spread through the empire like wildfire. He wondered how that came to be, did their parents abandon them? Did they die? What happened to leave them stranded in the woods like that? The idea of someone abandoning such a young child made his blood boil, it was the sort of thing that should be punishable by death. He hoped that whoever they were they did not callously toss aside their child, that they loved them dearly and it was some terrible outside force that separated them, be it death or something less final.

They were a mystery in nearly all ways, the most he knew was their profession and even that was vague. They were constantly swathed in more layers then was ever acceptable by any of the Aesthetic Guidelines or trends, the cloth always shades of blue, their face was always covered, the only skin visible was the strip of freckled skin around their eyes. Which were… very Blue, a steely blue, piercing even, and emphasized by the blue of their clothing. It seemed in general, that they worked on the fringes of the allowed, rarely seen and answering only to Mythal, like something still only half tamed. His mind wanders against his will as he watches the exchange.

Mysterious and a little wild, a little traitorous thrill runs through him thinking about it. They must be very strong, clever and resilient to live in the wilds for so long, and to manage in such an unsuitable place for children as Dirthamen’s court. And very intelligent and talented for Mythal to give them such leeway, though perhaps what was more because of the feral traces in them. He wondered what the rest of their face looked like, if it was as captivating as their eyes and what it would take to get them to trust him enough to show him, to open up to him at all.

He snaps out of his reverie and chides himself furiously, how could he?! This was no time for idle daydreaming! He had important duties to tend to! He made a point to focus intently on everything but Inanallas as read over the papers in front of him again with renewed zeal and pointedly ignored the small pang he felt when they left the room again as silently as they entered.

Inanallas did not like parties. At All. They thought they were stupid and trite and a complete waste of time. Well. Not a complete waste of time, there was some use to them. They were excellent for eavesdropping, which Inanallas was very good at and for people watching, which they enjoyed intensely. It did not seem like it from their own wardrobe but they were actually quite interested in the fashions that seemed to sweep through the upper classes with obnoxious frequency. They just didn’t like wearing them themselves or being forced to mingle with strangers and suffer small talk and quiet barbs at their Otherness.

Which is why they did not like parties.

But sadly, they could not escape all of them and so here they were, at a party, dressed in a marginally fancier version of their normal garb cut from a fabric enchanted to shift and match the environment around them. Just because they couldn’t escape being here didn’t mean they had to make it easy for people. They stuck to the edges, shadows, and hiding places near interesting conversations mostly, occasionally darting over to the food before retreating.

They were sitting idly, back resting on an urn overflowing with flowers when they saw a flash brightness in the corner of their eye.

It was Thenvunin, ethereal in a long flowing gown that showed delicate patches of his flawless skin through sheer lace. The light catching his hair and jewelry had been what caught their attention. He was very, very pretty, especially now, with the current fashions actually kind of suited him for once. They are very much enjoying how the looks with his board shoulders and muscled back. He was also very high strung, strong, temperamental, difficult, obnoxious and considered vapid or dense by some they had heard. He also apparently was desperately found of birds, not her first choice of animals, they liked wolves more—easier to cuddle and play with— but birds where very pretty and some where very menacing which was good. He took his job, and pretty much everything else very seriously, perhaps sometimes too seriously.

This was of course all things they had heard from listening to others, and observation in the brief moments they were even near each other so the credibly of it all was iffy.

Right now he just seemed to be trying very hard to have a good time. Or look like he’s having one, or something like that. They’re not too sure what’s going on there. Another elf begins to engage him in conversation and they watch as he becomes increasing more tense and visibly upset even while he tries not to show it. This other elf is being rude, sneakily given Thenvunin’s reaction, if they where being outright mean he could tell them off but he seems to be trapped in that double speak they all seem to do. Another reason they hate it here, they’re also very bad at it and always end up losing and looking like an idiot.

They want to go over and defend Thenvunin, who while he might be a bit of an ass by the accounts of some people had always struck them as fairly genuine and relatively harmless and so does not deserve this bullshit, but find themselves stuck. They really aren’t good at solving things with words the way the elves do it and it would be disastrous to try to use force. And if they do go out there they’ll be exposed, in the open, with all eyes on them. Which they desperately do not want, their life right now works because they are anonymous if that is broken they’re royally fucked up the ass.

Thenvunin settles the debate for them by primly telling the other elf off (or something like that) and removing himself from the conversation, hair and gown swirling around him as he turns and leaves to move to some other section of the party.

They feel terrible, relieved, and mad at themselves that they’re relieved. They really should have backed Thenvunin up or something, even if they had no idea what it was all about and if only because they were from the same faction. They moved from their perch and moved closer to the offending elf to better hear them and maybe get some idea of the context of things. They were talking to some other elf now, a friend of theirs Inanallas thinks, the two are laughing derisively about something.

After a while they realize that something is Thenvunin, and is very very mad. They instantly hate these two on principle and are determined to find Thenvunin even more attractive just to spite them.

…Which they acknowledge is a very stupid and ineffective revenge plan so they also make note of their names to do something to them later when they have more time to think about a good plan.

They decide then that now’s a good as time as any to fuck off out of this hellhole and make a quick circuit to look for Thenvunin first, mainly out of curiosity, they like having a sense of how the stories they watched unfold at things like this end otherwise the not knowing bothers them. They find him talking animatedly and furiously with one of his acquaintances, most likely abut the encounter and it seems like he will not be stopping for a while.

They smile and turn to escape from this nightmare castle and get back to less shittier locales.

Thenvunin returns to his quarters after an particularly troublesome day to find a golden bracelet laid out for him neatly on his table in a sweet little box with no lid on a dainty pillow. A gift, he assumes that’s what it is as it’s certainly not his. He picks it up and examines it, to his delight, the entire bracelet is made of the silhouettes of a songbird interlocked in a chain. It’s warm to the touch, a spell he assumes, so that he doesn’t feel a chill from the cold metal upon further examination he finds more spells in the bracelet, to protect it and keep it clean. How thoughtful. He examines the box and pillow too, which is actually not a pillow but a folded square of cloth, white cream with little golden birds soaring across it. His heart flutters.

He looks around the sitting room, then the other rooms of his apartments, looking for someone or something to explain this, some sign or clue but finds nothing. There’s no note, no clue as to who did this, he feels a pang at that but also a thrill of excitement. He has a secret admirer. It was the sort of thing he’d secretly dreamed of for years, it was so romantic. He wondered where they were now, what they were like, they clearly had taste and knew he liked birds at least. He slipped the bracelet on and admired it, as giddy as if he’d been drinking champagne. He even twirled a little and rushed to a mirror to see himself with it on then flitted out to his birds to show them and enjoy how lovely the day had just turned.

He wore it quite frequently after that, more than would be considered fashionable but not so much it could be seen as tacky, and made sure to wear it whenever he was around different people than usual to try and maximize the chance of his admirer seeing him wearing it. It made his heart flutter when he did, thinking that whoever gave it to him was out there and might catch a glimpse of him enjoying their gift. He desperately hoped he looked as half as beautiful as the bracelet.

He got more gifts after that sporadically, he never had any idea when they would appear in his apartments nor a sign or note when they were left. He got earrings, a necklace, and rings to complete the set the bracelet had started one after the other. He’d started leaving a thank you note in the place where the gifts tended to appear, they did not accurately describe his feelings but he couldn’t stand not thanking them. He was delighted when the gift came and the note vanished. He also received a jeweled brooch in the shape of a peacock’s feather, a finely crafted perch for his birds and even an embroidered dressing gown which had made him blush when he’d realized what it was. It had felt very, forward of his admirer and his heart had raced with excitement and concern, so suggestive and he didn’t even know their name!

This gift had had the first note from his admirer.

It appeared that his admirer had foreseen where his mind might go with that gift and had wanted to clarify. The first thing he had noted was that their handwriting was not very elegant, a slight disappointment but it did not deter his excitement or curiosity. His admirer had wanted to try their hand at sewing and embroidery and wanted to make him something he could wear, but did not know his sizes nor wanted to invade his privacy by trying to find it out so had settled for the dressing gown since it wasn’t as fitted as many other options. It was sweet and charming and he forgave them instantly for their poor penmanship. He’d considered that they might be making their gifts themselves but now that it was confirmed it made them all even more precious. He’d changed into it immediately and admired the garment in the mirror beside himself with how pretty it was, the fabric was soft and gentle against his skin and the embroidery was as a stunning tapestry of flowers and birds. He wished, and not for the first time, that he could wear this for his admirer and see their reaction to him modeling these gifts.

Mythal is visiting Andruil. It’s not too odd but it’s uncommon enough to be of interest, at least for the time being. Uthvir recognizes the majority of faces as constants in Mythal’s entourage, though there are a handful of new faces. They scan the white and silver flock dully until they spy one slate blue figure out of alignment with the aesthetic of the rest, using their small size and the throng of people to camouflage themselves. That peaked their interest.

They watch their prey whenever they can as Mythal’s people bustle around settling in and then all through the evening meal. They consider going over to them and get a better look, see what they can pry out of them, but really it’s already quite interesting watching them from a distance. They don’t seem to talk to the others too much outside of necessary communication and do much of the grunt work, unloading and unpacking whatever nonsenses their party had thought to bring. At the dining table now they still don’t seem to speak to anyone, they can be completely sure since their face is still covered by a veil. It’s amazing to them that they’re managing so successfully to remain so obscure despite being so oddly dressed. Years of practice they surmise, but why? Why are they so desperate to go unnoticed?

What interesting prey.

Eventually things move on to a more casual, party sort of event as dinner is finished and people become increasingly more drunk, they themselves are still sharp having nursed their single drink the entire night. Normally they’d prefer at least another glass but they’re hunting right now. Their prey hasn’t even filled their glass once, they note, frankly a wise choice given the company. Music strikes up in earnest now and their prey uses the opportunity to make their escape. Silently, Uthvir follows.

They’re moving with caution and only mild stealth, putting in effort to avoid others but not so much that if they do run into someone it’s not suspicious. Their pace makes it easy for Uthvir to catch up to them, as silent as a whisper even in their armor.

“Was it not to your liking? Or is watching drunks attempt to dance just not of interest to you?”

They whirl around to face them and Uthvir can see clearly now their lamplike blue eyes, the color not unlike their clothing, and a smattering of freckles covered by bits of vallaslin. They have a feeling their expression under all that fabric is comical but the why they move is not, jerky and somewhat inelegant but speaking to a instinct for combat or quick defense even as they fight against it to avoid looking aggressive.

They straighten themselves awkwardly, clearly not sure what to do or how exactly to respond.

“I’m not very……….I don’t really enjoy that sort of thing.”

They raise an eyebrow. “Oh? Which part don’t you like? The drinking? The dancing? The hunting for partners?”

They gesture vaguely with their hands and eyes. “The whole thing really, I’m not really big on large groups and talking to strangers and all that.”

They grin. “Well then! How fortunate I intend to not be a stranger! My name is Uthvir.”

They don’t bow really, they just make a motion that hints to a bow, just a slight polite dip of the shoulders.

They look at them searchingly, they think it’s hard to tell with their face covered and they note suddenly, with their emotions so carefully controlled, almost too carefully as if perhaps manufactured somehow to be as bland or expected as possible. They make note of it to pick apart.

After a beat of some internal debate they reply “Inanallas.”

“A pleasure, Inanallas.”

“Yes, well if you don’t mind Uthvir I was planning to retire…”

They shift getting ready to turn and leave, so Uthvir takes ground, narrowing the gap between them.

“Come now, the night is still young and this I think, your first trip to one of my Lady’s holdings. It would be such a waste to go straight to sleep, stay and chat for a while.”

“I’m not really much of a conversationalist.”

“Then you can listen to me talk, I am very interesting after all.”

They grin again and see Inanallas very clearly look at their teeth, not with fear or concern as they can tell, but interest. A good sign, they think.

“I’m sure you are, but I doubt that would be very fun.”

They close the gap even further, they’re coming into arms reach now.

“Oh I think it would be, nearly anything is interesting when you have such interesting company.”

They begin to look nervously from side to side looking for an escape, probably not as covert in this as they’d like. “I’m really not all that interesting.”

“Oh but I think you are. Very, very Interesting. I’d love to learn more about you, peel off all those layers, become closer.”

It’s laid on fairly thick but they’re interested in the reaction a pass will get them, plus they’d be lying if said they weren’t curious about stripping them down and seeing for themselves what they looked like under that, they had a feeling they wouldn’t be disappointed.

They get what they wanted immediately, Inanallas’s eyes widen and the visible strip of pale skin flushes a deep red, their whole body reacts leaving them frozen ridiculously in place. They can’t help but chuckle at the sight, they’re liking this little oddity more and more. They savor the sight and the increasingly incoherent attempts at a reply for a moment before beginning to closing the final stretch.

“Tell me, what would you enjoy? To be trussed up like a fresh kill? Or savored throughly.”

They reply finally, though it seems without thinking. “ You can’t truss what you haven’t caught.”

They can’t help but smirk. “I am a hunter, and you are in my sights.”

They look at them for a long moment, then spring into action.

They had not anticipated however that their prey would make a break for freedom.

Through the window.

Out into the forest.

Which is full of beasts.

They curse and jump out fluidly onto the grass and chase after them. It’ll be on their head if one of Mythal’s pets dies from their own idiocy with them the last person to see them. They give chase easily but their quarry is faster than they’d first anticipated, they might of considered a pleasant surprise if it weren’t for the situation. They also realize very quickly that Inanallas is used to the woods and moves expertly through the underbrush, not silently like themself but without any of the struggle they’ve seen other servants of Mythal have.

They gain on their target quickly and expect to end this merry race quickly.

Only the other elf has tricks.

Using a boulder as a base they create a ramp of ice and use it to rocket themselves further ahead, widening the gap again. Clever.

They’re even more interested now that it’s clear the other elf won’t run immediately into the maw of some beast and get them in flogged for it. The thrill of the hunt crackles through them and they change tactics to more that of a proper hunt. Their prey may be competent, but they do not know the terrain like Uthvir does.

They use that to their advantage, letting them think they have lost them while the hunter instead slips out of their wake and moves to cut them off, using secret trails and hidden paths to propel them ahead of Inanallas’s path. They note the direction of their progress and chose a spot a long its course to lay in wait for them, obscuring themselves in all ways as they do.

Eventually the prey comes to their blind, now on more of a nature walk than a heated chase. Uthvir waits the span of a breath, then makes their move.

Inanallas whips around to look at them at almost the same moment they think to instigate their plan and breaks into a run again but it’s too late. The gap between them is too short and Uthvir is the faster of the two. They lunge and catching them by the waist and dragging them to the ground. Inanallas is far, far stronger than they’d anticipated, almost monstrously so and they have to work to keep them from freeing themself.

But they are laughing uncontrollably. Uthvir can’t help but chuckle a little too.

“Caught you.” They whisper into a long freckled ear.

An ear that had previously been covered.

They move to better look at the squirming figure in their arms. A figure they note with a thrill they can see the face of, the veil covering it had come off at some point and now the entirely of their head covering was nearly off from all the thrashing.

Their suspicions had not been wrong, they can see in the moonlight an unconventional but highly appealing face framed by a wild mess of black hair. They’re deeply freckled, with a small straight nose and very full lips Uthvir thinks, they would very much like to enjoy.

Inanallas’s hysterics work their way down to silent fits and Uthvir moves to pin them with a straddle, crossing their arms is they continue to watch the ridiculousness between them.

Inan finally looks up at them, they reply with a look that says “Well…?” and she almost immediately devolves back into giggles.

They reach over and pick up the forgotten head and face covering which they can see now are two separate elements that link together, allowing the head covering to be worn without the mouth piece, probably to make eating easier.

“Why I cannot help to wonder, do you even wear this?” they muse.

The hands that had been hovering around their face and chest as they’d laughed come to rest at their sides, so on Uthvir’s thighs, not that their complaining. It doesn’t seem however that Inanallas has noticed this placement yet as they continue to look around the clearing, putting thought to word. Their fingers tap and rub at the metal of their plate unconsciously.

“Well, I’m not good at hiding my expression….and well, um—so much stuff in Elvhenan is all you know, secret-y, double speaky um… whatevering. Subtly? It’s not good to be so expressive, people can easily use it against me and I never got good at it so I figured that this was the safest bet.”

They shrug noncommittally, the motion seems to make them finally realize position of their hands and they jerk them away like they’d been burned.

Uthvir can’t help but agree now that they can see them unmasked. Their face has every thought in their head written on it in shining letters, they’d be eaten alive if anyone else saw it. It’s an extreme disadvantage, especially here in Andruil’s lands where the hunters would have scented them like blood in the water and abused that weakness to whatever end they wanted.

“I see your point.” They secret the material away and get up off their prisoner. “Well this was certainly very fun.”

They give Inanallas a hand up which they take with surprise. They had considered continuing their teasing but didn’t feel like risking them bolting again. They’d try again when another time, when they’d properly cornered them.

Like clockwork hunt is called, naturally it’s a mixed hunt with their soft guests joining them as is the tradition when Mythal visits. It seems to be shaping up to be the usual suspects until some dots are connected or something like that among Andruil’s people and Inanallas is recalled to be some child who’d been found in the woods. They can’t quite remember if they’d heard of this before, it’s certainly the kind of thing people would talk about even centuries after it occurred but it also wouldn’t have been information that interested them too much. Until now that this. Now it’s exceedingly interesting. And goes a long way to explain at least some of their oddity.

A call goes out from the hunters that they should join, since they’re half wild as it is. Uthvir tries to gauge their reaction to this but cannot quite manage it through the many layers that seem to be their usual manner of dress, as far as they can tell they seem fairly calm.

Mythal looks over at them. “ What a fine idea, I’m sure they would be more than glad to join.”

Inanallas bows deeply in return and moves to stand with the others going on the hunt.

When it’s time to set out Inanallas is still weaponless, save for what seems to be two short daggers on their waist, and completely covered with no armor in sight. None of their compatriots seem to care about this either, so Uthvir doesn’t comment either.

The hunt goes to shit.

No one’s dead and the injured are already being tended to but they’ve been forced to camp for the night while the party recoups from the debacle. It had started off just fine, and would have ended that way if about 20 other creatures hadn’t scented the blood and decided to pay a visit. It had paid off in it’s own way since they got to see what was clearly more competence then Inanallas had wanted to show around that many people.

They were now setting to work mending armor for the the party, sitting off to the side silently hammering away on piece after piece, working them to the point where they’d be at least wearable and semi-functional. There were plenty of pieces in there Uthvir knew would have to be scrapped when they get back but no one was keen to make the trip back without something between them and a beast’s claws.

They wait until it’s their shift keeping watch and the rest are sleeping to go over to talk to them. Judging by the pile next to them and the pace Inan is going at they don’t intend to go to sleep tonight. They take a seat on a stone near them and grin.

“Care for a bit of company?”

They look over surprised then groan when they recognize them.

“Man, you’re relentless huh?”

They shrug. “I did say I wasn’t going to stay a stranger.”

They groan again and turn back to their work, hammering at a piece they had resting on their knee.

“Now that seems exceedingly foolish.”

“It’s fine. Barrier on my knee, I need the curve and it’s not like I’ve got an anvil here.”

“There are stones here, stones that are round.”

“This is more comfortable.”

“Beating metal with a hammer against your knee is more comfortable then using a stone.” They drawl out incredulously.

Inan glares over the veil. “Yes. Now cut it out you’re harshing my vibe here.”

Uthvir snorts. But settles in, going between watching them work, and watching for threats.

The next time Inanallas sees Uthvir it’s at some party thing or whatever in Arlathan. They have no fucking clue what it is they just knew they couldn’t get out of it. They’d seen Uthvir in their red ass armor (did they own anything but armor?????) but lost them again in the crush. So she’s hiding again, sipping on whatever it is they’re serving and picking at a plate of fruit. Mostly they’re just people watching, working on running commentary about the clothes and jewelry, testing out jokes they’ll never get to use.

“So this is where you are.”

Inanallas chokes on a grape and almost topples over the edge of the rail they were sitting on. The “almost” coming from a clawed metal hand grabbing the back of their shirt and yanking them back up.

They turn to see Uthvir laughing.

“Ass” they cough.

The red hunter puts a hand (the hand that’s not still on their back they notice) on their chest.

“How rude, I just saved your life, you really are still feral aren’t you?”

Inan clacks their teeth together at them in response, though they realize the effect is somewhat defeated since there’s cloth in front of their mouth. They unfasten it from one side and clip that end next to the other so they can make a respectable ugly face at Them. Uthvir just laughs and comes closer so their standing beside them, hand unfurling from their shirt but staying where it is.

“Taking off the veil? I’m flattered.”

“Well it’s kinda pointless now soooooooooo”

“I see, less flattered then. Now I wonder… what were you looking at so intensely?”

They peer over, out into the crowd. Eyes darting about for anything of interest, eventually the lock on to one tall figure.

“Hmmmm, Thenvunin looks particularly lovely tonight.”

Inan snorts and gestures aggressively. “When does Thenvunin not look like, insanely gorgeous? Like he’s distracting he’s that handsome!”

Uthvir looks over at them eyebrows raised.

“What?”

“Nothing, that’s just a very strong reaction.” They smirk obnoxiously. “ Is this a crush?”

Inan turns to face them sharply face an intensely exaggerated “Are you kidding me?” look. “What are we?????? 75???????”

Uthvir cackles delightedly. “Maybe. I’m certainly not immune to his charms either.”

“Oooooooooo~” They waggle their eyebrows obnoxiously.

The claw on their back jabs them a little and they spasm.

“Alright, Alright. Push me off why don’t you…”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you didn’t answer my question, Inanallas.”

Inan look at them incredulously.

“Stop doing that! For fuck’s sake, I didn’t even realize I didn’t answer!And if you’re gonna hound me on it yes I was looking at him, along with other people, I’ve literally been looking at people since I got here.”

“Why look at Thenvunin in particular? To admire the view? Or some other reason?”

They can’t parse a damn thing out from them, Uthvir’s expression and emotions are totally unreadable to their unskilled ass. They really needed to be better at that, it was kinda like, a super big deal.

“Why? What does it matter?”

Uthvir smiles like sneaky cat and leans on the railing, taking a quick glance back down at Thenvunin.

“I’d considered taking him to bed tonight and wanted to make sure I wasn’t stepping on any toes.”

Gently they place a hand on Uthvir’s cheek, they look shocked for a half second until they saw inan’s exaggerated “kind” expression.

“Uthvir, darling, you two are big kids, you can do sexy stuff with whoever you two want, you don’t need my permission.”

They place their hand on top of Inan’s, trapping it. Shit.

“Oh but Inanallas are you sure?”

“Yes I’m sure.”

They hum, keeping Inan’s hand trapped in theirs as they look back down at the man in question.

“It’s interesting….Thenvunin has worn that jewelry quite frequently recently… He seems to want someone to see him in it…”

Inan shuddered aggressively, jerking away as they made a face.

“Oh fuck you!”

Uthvir grinned hugely, like the evil mastermind they were. “You gave it to him!?”

“You just said—!”

“I didn’t say anything, I simply commented on his jewelry.”

“I—You tricked me!”

They smirk, it’s very very attractive. They want to punch it off.

“I didn’t even need to. You gave yourself away with out any prompting.”

Inanallas groans and puts their head in their hands.

“I’m going to diiiiiieeeeeeeeeee.”

Uthvir comes close, as if to comfort them, return a hand to their back and placing the other on their thigh.

“There, there. You’re not going to die.” They pause, the grin is palpable. “Imagine that will happen when Thenvunin finds out.”

Inan chokes.

#my writing #inanallas #thenvunin #uthvir #this is a disaster #uthvir: i'm not that clever you're just giving yourself away #i still need 2 settle on what 2 tag this shit gkjlsfdgjflsd;g #i wanna go w/ smthng short and easy #but i'm also bad at naming shit #the doc for this is like 20 pages long KILL ME

24 notes · View notes