#ockiss 18

[art0lies]

Oc kiss week sketch 4: Tabby and the fabulous Estanis ( owned by @korsithkoris ) I might be getting carried away with these poses.

[serendipitousoracle]

I wrote a thing for OCKiss because my drawing skills decided to be 404 not found and here it is! starring Egeire Mahariel and @mossandrock​‘s Denoreth Surana, set in WAW!verse which also features @aubergion​‘s Tamaris Surana and @meridok​‘s Kylare Mahariel, during their stint in Vigil’s Keep, probably post-Awakening

Worthy

Egeire Mahariel had never really expected to be happy.

At least, not for a few years. Not after a couple of weeks being ground into the dirt and told he was nothing, that he deserved nothing, that he had better learn to shed his weaknesses and kill if he ever wanted to be worth anything. Not after he couldn't help but hear those words coming out of the mouths of others for years afterward, just phrased a little differently. “Happy” was for people who could have carried on the legacies of their greater predecessors. “Happy” was for people who could protect the ones they were duty-bound to make thrive– who could protect the ones they loved, no matter the cost. “Happy” was for people who weren't weak enough to be preyed upon.

But happiness was something so entirely different. Happiness was the beginnings of a reconciliation with the woman Egeire had thought would sooner throw herself off the nearest cliff than be soft with him. Happiness was a best friend who was kind and patient with him, who looked past his surface smile and did not flinch away when they found blood and bile. Happiness was purpose that did not want to drain him and discard his husk with disdain when he could not sustain it.

Happiness was the warm feeling in his chest and the hum in his throat when lips pressed gently to his and stirred him from his half-sleep.

“Falling asleep again on me?” Denoreth teased quietly, when Egeire's eyes opened to meet his. “Don't come crying to me to complain I don't cuddle you enough if you sleep through it.”

His words were accompanied by fingers ghosting over Egeire's ribs, forcing him to stifle the laughter that bubbled up in response. The other body in their bed shifted at the noise, stilling them both. After a moment, when nothing else came, Denoreth reached over Egeire to pull the blankets up over their still-sleeping lover; Zevran would not want to be awake until much later in the morning, if in the morning at all. Him asleep peacefully at Egeire's back was happiness as well, but these little stolen moments in the darkness before dawn were more Egeire and Denoreth's than anything.

“I was just thinking,” Egeire finally replied, voice cautiously low. Denoreth made a soft, curious sound, snuggling closer. The honest answer to the wordless inquiry caught in Egeire's throat. “… Ar lath ma, vhenan,” was all he could manage instead, faltering under the weight of his thoughts. He pressed his eyes into the crown of Denoreth's head, lips pressed tight.

There was a moment of patient silence, before Denoreth shifted against him, a full-bodied nudge, and raised a hand to Egeire's neck. “And?”

Egeire swallowed thickly, having half-hoped Denoreth wouldn't press. Mumbling, he forced it out: “When I was younger, Denoreth, I did not think much about my future; I- I didn't think I would have much of one. Let alone a happy one.”

Denoreth wrapped his arms around Egeire's broad shoulders, pressed close with fixed eyes that Egeire couldn't see, rapt with anticipation at the openness Denoreth still wasn't familiar with. “What do you mean, Egeire?”

He was patiently quiet, as Egeire slowly drew in a deep breath, and let it out again. The tip of his tongue swiped over well-kissed lips. Nothing else, physical or verbal, came to relieve him. Anxious, Egeire relented: “I… I never really knew what was going to become of me, Denoreth. I was no mage; I had failed from birth to follow in my father's footsteps, as leader and guide to my clan. I stood always in his shadow… or Kylare's, his first child. Mythal'enaste, with her around, I could hardly even aspire to Warmaster, never mind Keeper. A legacy that died at my feet, expectations that loomed, disappointed, from birth… or that first Arlathvhen, I suppose.”

A sigh, and Egeire pushed on, “My friends were all self-assured with nothing to hold them back, and I was left questioning until 18, where I became certain that either I would be lost in the cracks, or… be broken, ten years later, when… when he came back for me and didn't take no for an answer.” His arms had wrapped in turn around Denoreth's waist, and he squeezed. “I couldn't be just another hunter, Denoreth, I– he wouldn't let– I was meant to be somebody like my father was somebody but instead I just– I wasn't– I couldn't–”

Denoreth planted a series of light kisses along Egeire's jawline, quieting the tense, chopped words caught in his throat. "Are you sure we can't kill him again?" Denoreth murmured before he could catch himself, then quickly raised his eyes to his lover's. "You were always enough, love. They tell children such horrid fucking lies. You couldn't help but be enough."

Egeire gave a shuddering sigh, traces of a laugh around it at Denoreth's refreshing anger. The tension that had entered his frame eased away again in Denoreth's arms. Enoughenoughenoughyou'reenough. A smile finally managed to work its way back onto Egeire's lips, and he pressed a kiss to Denoreth's. “Ma serannas, vhenan. Just–” Egeire remembered Cyrron's last words, the way his coldness suddenly seemed so detached from Egeire himself, how empty it had felt in the end– “I am… trying, now, to let go of all those things that he said about me. To remember they're untrue.” He kissed Denoreth again, before resting his forehead back against Denoreth's. “It helps, to hear somebody else be as adamant about my worth as he was about my weakness.”

Denoreth grinned fiercely in the low light and kissed Egeire with just as much fire. "Don't worry; I can out-stubborn any dead man in Thedas," he promised when he finally let Egeire breathe, and Egeire couldn't help but feel a dizzy thrill of delight and relief. Their bodies folded together again, stealing a few more kisses while daybreak was still a while away. Denoreth cupped Egeire's jaw, thumbs tracing the lines of reverent freedom inscribed in ink over Egeire's strong cheekbones.

Egeire couldn't help the tears that fell from his eyes, but for once he felt no need to hide them. He was safe here, safe and warm and loved. He was enough, and softness or vulnerability would not be read as weakness. They trailed silently down his face until Denoreth's thumbs swiped across them, and Denoreth paused. The next kiss was gentler. “You're such a good, noble, worthy man,” he murmured firmly, punctuating the statement with further kisses. “You deserved so much more than what you got, so much fucking more–”

“Denoreth–” Egeire tried, flushed and still teary, heart blown open in the moonlight, only to be cut off by another kiss.

“No, no, Egeire, I mean it,” Denoreth insisted. “You got shit. You're a good hunter– you helped keep two bumbling mages alive in the wilderness when we didn't even nearly have enough food. You take care of people. Even– even if they might not deserve it… all the time. You were– are– everything your clan could've asked you to be. More, even.” Denoreth fell quiet for a second, eyes roaming Egeire's desperately rapt face, meeting eyes shining with tears.

He almost crumbled, pulling himself up a little to kiss across Egeire's cheeks and kiss away his tears. “I mean it,” Denoreth said. “I mean it, I mean it, I mean it, now and forever. You deserved so much more and you were worth so much more and fuck, I–” Denoreth's brow furrowed and his ears drooped– “I love you so goddamn much, and you deserve so much more than a fucked up, shem-battered–”

Denoreth was cut off only by a groan and shifting from behind Egeire. A warm, strong chest pressed against Egeire's back, an arm flopping over his shoulder to plant a hand firmly over Denoreth's mouth. “Amores,” Zevran pleaded tiredly, “go back to sleep.”

Egeire realized belatedly that their voices had risen. He gave a quiet “Ir abelas,” as a muffled 'sorry' came from under Zevran's hand. Zevran just sighed, pressed a kiss to the back of Egeire's neck, mumbled something in Antivan that ended with 'amor,' and settled in where he was now vaguely snuggled. Egeire blinked as Denoreth started to settle back in as well, firmly sandwiching Egeire between his lovers. “What was that?” he asked the man now at his back.

Zevran hummed. “Te amo, amor,” he said quietly, giving a blatantly shorter answer than whatever Egeire had heard. And missing “el something-with-an-'M',” for that matter. Zevran seemed set on going back to sleep, however, and Egeire knew he wasn't going to be getting the real answer any time soon, if at all.

But he was able to close his eyes again to the thought that he was enough, that he was loved. Sleepy kisses against Egeire's skin coaxed him into relaxing. The doubts gnawing at him quieted in the face of unconditional love, after the uncomplicated release of tears. Egeire let the other two shift against him until they were comfortable, and filled the space in between, ready to drift back to sleep. He could trust them. He was safe.

He was happy.