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nyssandracousland · 3 months ago

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Chapter 9

Nyss woke up with her door slightly ajar. She decided to peek out and as she could hear two voices coming from down the hall. She recognized one was Cullen and the other Greagoir.

“You will be there.” Greagoir said then started to walk away.

Nyss didn’t hear anything else from the conversation, except the slow footsteps of who she assumed was Cullen approach. She backed away from the door and dove into bed. Her door slowly open, and Cullen stood in her doorway.

“Hello?” She said from her bed.

“Oh My Lady I am so glad you are finally awake.” He said relieved.

“What time is it?”

“After midday, I wanted you to sleep, I felt you needed the real rest.” He said.

Cullen didn’t seem himself, he came in and sat on the edge of her bed.

“What’s troubling you?” She asked, placing her hand on his arm.

“Nothing My Lady, just tired. Someone kept me awake last night.” He forced a smile.

Nyss knew something was bothering him. “Have I said or done anything to offend you?”

Cullen looked into her caring eyes and could see himself in their reflection. “You have been almost too perfect.” He smiled, then straightened himself up. “Come! You have a little left to see around the Tower and the day is short.”

Nyss put on her cloak and shoes. Cullen leafed through a book while she arranged her hair. She could see him glance at her from the corner of her eye, and she could feel a her cheek grown warm.

“I wanted to show you something special today. Not many people are allowed in, but I have been granted to show you the reliquary where we keep the phylacteries before they are sent to Denerim.” He said.

“What is a phylactery?”

“When each mage comes here we take a vial of their blood. This blood is kept stored and if they ever were to run away, we Templars use it to track down the run away mage.” He said quietly.

Nyss softly recoiled, “So you are saying it’s their leash?”

“Yes.”

“So why tell me?” She felt slightly bothered by knowing this.

“You deserve to know. You asked me about The Harrowing and I obliged, I figured this was something else you should be made aware of.”

Nyss took a moment to think on what he said. Even if Emmy some day escaped from the Tower she could be tracked down and hunted like a beast. However the implication is to have a mage freed, you must destroy it so they cannot be tracked.

“Thank you for telling me.” His honesty was really getting the better of her. She really didn’t think that a Templar would be this forthcoming with information.

Cullen lead Nyss deep into the heart of the Tower. There were no windows, and no lit torches apart from the one they carried. Deeper into the belly they went and finally came to a locked door.

Cullen waved his hand in front of it and it slowly creaked open. They walked inside and he lit the brazier on the floor. Light flooded the room. It was full of vials and vials of mage blood.

“I thought you said it all goes to Denerim?”

“Once you pass your Harrowing, until then it stays here.”

Nyss examined the vials and the walls lined with even more mage artifacts. There were staves and cowls. Some robes, and tomes.

“Has anyone tried to break in here?” She asked.

“A few times. Some have been successful, but we have wards up and most do not make it past them.” He looked down. “It’s a death sentence for anyone magical to try.”

He walked over to a shelf and grabbed a particularly beautifully shaped vial. He handed it to her.

“What’s this?”

“That is Emmy’s phylactery.” He said calmly.

“Why hand it to me? I could smash it and she would be halfway to being free.” She asked.

“I trust you not to. I know you won’t do something like that.”

Nyss nodded. The vial was beautiful. Purple and blue glass, mixed with hints of red. The label read “Emelie Amell, Lady of Highever.” She half grinned.

“I had them write that on there. Give her the dignity she deserves.” He softly said, placing his hand on her arm gently.

Nyss closed her eyes and exhaled. “I appreciate you trusting me with this is, but I fear I am quite uneasy being in here.”

“Let’s leave then.” He carefully restored the vial to the illuminated shelf, “Care for a game of chess?”

“Anything.”

As quickly as they entered it seemed they had left. Cullen first up the stairs and then Nyss right behind him. They made their way back all the way up to the balcony they played their game on.

There they sat for hours, enchanted by strategy and one another. The Frost Backs glistened with snow and the sun slowly went down behind them. Nyss felt chill crawl up her spine. The breeze had picked up and Cullen seemed to notice it too.

“Let’s go in My Lady, your nose is turning a lovely pink, and my stomach tells me it’s nearly supper time.” He smiled.

They cleaned up their game and walked alongside each other to the Great Hall. When they entered Nyss could smell the warm aroma of herbs and meat. She took a deep breath.

“It smells fantastic in here.” She said.

“Tonight’s meal is special, we only get it once in a while, and since we have a special guest I wanted to share it with you.” He smiled.

“Me?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Of course you. It’s a Ferelden special. Turnip and Mutton pie with a lovely side of Hearth Bread and Golden Scythe 4:90 Black.” He smiled.

“It sounds delicious.” She grinned.

The pair sat at their table and other Templars joined. Nyss ate and drank happily as the other men spoke of their lives to her. She asked each one how they came to the Circle and what their aspirations for it were.

They all wanted something better for Thedas, was the consensus. She wasn’t going to argue, but she also didn’t want to evoke any anger towards Mages so she kept her opinions to herself and kept drinking.

She smiled as each Templar told her about their families and how even though they rarely see them, they love the life they have serving the Maker. She admired their devotion, even if it was to a sad cause.

A while later Cullen stood and told her it was time for bed. Nyss excused herself from the table and they walked back to her chambers. Cullen walked slower than usual. The drink making his senses a little fuzzy. Nyss held onto him so she wouldn’t tumble over. She then started to laugh at absolutely nothing.

“What’s so funny?” He asked.

“I just realized I sat around with Templars drinking all night.” She giggled. “You have to tell me did I make a fool of myself?”

Cullen leaned against the hallway wall and chuckled. “Not at all Nyss. You kept your composure quite well.”

That was the first time he called her Nyss.

She blushed.

“I’m glad, I didn’t want the liquor to loosen my tongue. I might have embarrassed myself and everyone.” She smiled.

“You were magnificent. A drinker to contend with!” He said emphatically.

“Shhhh” Nyss shushed him, “People are sleeping.”

Cullen laughed. “I haven’t had this much fun in my entire life.” He glanced at his feet and put his hand behind his head, “I really wish you didn’t have to leave.”

“We have all day tomorrow to enjoy, then I can see my friend and we can take off into the sunrise!” She said happily, almost as if wishing it to be truth.

Cullen opened the room door for her, and then grabbed her hand as she walked by. “Thank you My Lady for an enchanting evening.” He kissed the back of it slowly. He soft lips left a warm feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Nyss heart beat so loud she knew he could hear it.

“Odd how you can find someone in life who can wiggle their way into your heart so quickly when you allow it.” He mused, slowly letting her go.

“Goodnight Ser Templar.” Her cheeks rosy,. “We truly find things in unexpected places.”

“Goodnight Nyssandra Visus Cousland, I will be here if you need me.” He bowed.

She shut the door and melted against the back of it. ‘So this is what it feels like.’ She thought as she sat on the floor. Slowly Nyss moved to the bed and watched the world spin around her as she drifted to sleep.

Nyss woke up realizing the end of her stay would be tomorrow and she could finally see Emmy. She was excited, but also in a bit of a fog. She had drank quite a bit the night before but remembered the last of it perfectly.

Nyss got dressed and braided her hair into a crown around her head. When she opened her door to find Cullen, he was still laying on his cot. She smiled, ‘He drank a bit too much too.’ She walked over and sat on the thin edge of his bed.

“Ser?” She tapped him on the shoulder.

“Mmm, I said the Chant twice before I fell asleep, leave me be.” He mumbled.

“Cullen, it’s time to wake up or I’ll go roam the Tower alone.” She threatened teasingly.

That seemed to rouse him. “No my lady!” He startled awake

“I’m just kidding!” She laughed.

“Makers breath, you are a sight to wake up too. I’m sorry I over slept, I fear I let myself go too far last night.”

“No harm, come let’s go eat breakfast.”

Cullen got up and put on his boots, and straightened his robes. Nyss folded his blanket and handed him his gloves.

They walked together to the Great Hall and sat at their table. Fine cheeses and hot oatmeal was served. They ate in silence until their minds returned to their normal state.

“Do not Templars have a draft that gets rid of this?”

“Ha! If only. I would do it all again though for last night. You really are the most fun.”

Nyss smiled at Cullen she was glad he could have fun with her. She was happy her mind had wandered away from Emmy.

“It’s my last full day here is it not?” She asked

“Yes, tomorrow morning they will make her pass the final test.”

“But it’s not a Harrowing right? That means she will be fine.”

Cullen scraped his bowl with his spoon. He swallowed and looked at Nyss. “It is not the Harrowing, but it is still as dangerous for her.”

Nyss eyes widened. A flicker of disbelief crossed her face. “You mean, she could be possessed?”

Cullen nodded.

Nyss leaned back and stared at the Great Halls ceiling. She knew what it meant for someone to be possessed. Instant death. ‘Emmy is strong, she’s made it this far.’ She reasoned.

Nyss closed her eyes and could feel Cullens gaze on her. She slowly opened her eyes and saw him staring at her. “It’s okay, Emmy is strong. She is a force. She will be fine.” He reached for her and squeezed her hand.

“So far it seems as if things are alright. No news is good news.” He said.

Nyss tilted her head to one side as she watched the Young Templar drink the last few drops from his goblet. The blue in his robes made the veins in his neck look bright. She did not want to, but she felt as if she was allowing herself to trust him. “Please, keep me occupied today.” She said quietly.

Cullen reached to her again, and placed his hand on the back of hers out of comfort. Electricity shot through her limbs. “That is exactly what I planned on doing.” His voice low, and reassuring.

Cullen walked Nyss through the gardens, and kept her mind busy with stories of his childhood. Cullen was a model child, and always did what he was told, while Nyss felt a little guilty being the one who kept getting in trouble with everyone, and told Cullen of the time she put itching salts in her fathers robes.

“You were feisty as a child. I suppose there’s nothing wrong with that.” He said with a smile.

Cullen was smiling a lot more and to Nyss, it was nice to see. Almost as if he forgot himself as a Templar. She liked that, it humanize him a great deal, and she felt even more comfortable with him at her side.

The pair walked through a small patch of crystal Grace and as they did, he instinctively reached down and handed her a flower.

“What’s this for?” Nyss said examining the stunning colors.

“Oh, sorry I didn’t think of the implication. I just saw it and thought you’d like it.” He said quickly.

“Thank you.” She smiled. “It is beautiful.”

“Just like the woman I handed it to.” He said so quietly Nyss was sure she heard him incorrectly.

They continued to walk through the gardens, Nyss could see sparks flying from the other side of a high wall. “Whats on the other side of this?” Nyss asked.

“That is where the Circle Mages practice their magic. They need a lot of space, as some of their spells actually pull them into the Fade. I’d let you watch, but it’s rather dangerous.” He said cautiously.

“I can only imagine Emmy practicing her magic there once she passes her test. She is going to amaze them with her abilities.” Nyss said proudly.

“Emmy will go over her last test tomorrow morning, if she passes it, she will definitely be over there in the future.” He said reassuringly.

Nyss stopped in her tracts and looked at her feet as if stuck in the moment. She looked up at Cullen and her green eyes started to swell.

“I have a lot of confidence in my friend, but I am worried. Like you said days ago ‘How would you feel being free, then caged?’ I would loose my mind under pressure. So please humor me.”

“Please, speak freely.” He could tell what she was about to ask was large. He took a stop closer to her and put his hand on her arm. “Tell me.”

“I have a thought, is there no way I can see her before her trial? What if she doesn’t pass? I would never forgive myself if I didn’t get to see her one last time.” Nyss said with a choked voice.

Cullens eyes searched her face. “No I - “ he stopped short.

He could see the pain in his new friends eyes. Was she his friend? Is this what happens? You start to feel for people who you spend time with. He was confused by themes emotions, but he didn’t want to see this young lady upset. “Let me see if I can talk to Greagoir. He has his rules, but this seems like a reasonable request.”

“Then I will wait here.” Her heart jumped with anticipation, “Cullen, thank you for even asking.”

“For you my lady, it is a pleasure.” He took his hand from her arm and turned to walk away. “Promise you’ll wait here?”

“You have my word.”

Nyss moved to a bench and sat down in the middle of the garden. She waited while Cullen went to find Greagoir. The sun had been shining and the spring had brought birds of all varieties flying over head. She could smell the aroma of fresh flower buds and mulch as she waited for the Templar to return. It seemed like ages before he came back to her.

Cullen walked up to Nyss and grabbed her hand. “Quickly, come this way.”

Without a word, Nyss followed him. He led her through back corridors and dark places. His grip ever tighter as they navigated the halls and spaces.

Finally after one last turn, he let go of her hand. Cullen took a step forward, turned around and said to Nyss “Stay here.”

As fast as he left her he was back, and behind him, was Emmy.

She did not look well. Her red hair was not glossy as it usually was, and her expressive eyes were lackluster.

“What’s happened to you?” Nyss asked and she embraced her friend. “I have been worried about you.” She kissed her friend on the head and held her close.

“I can’t even begin to tell you what’s happened to me behind that door, and I’m not going to tell you, for it would upset you far too much, and my heart cannot do that to you.” Emmy didn’t let go of her friend. They just stood there. Nyss’s eyes started to tear. “Whatever happens to me, just know, not all Templars are bad.” Emmy glanced at Cullen, “the compassionate ones are truly sent from the Maker.”

“My friend, I don’t know what I can do to help you through your final test.”

“Nyssandra my dearest,” Emmy wiped away Nyss’s tear. “If I do not pass, know, this was not your fault. You have always been my best friend. Remember the good times we had, and don’t forget, save the ones you can and be the woman you were meant to be.”

“I will make you proud. You will make me proud and by tomorrow this will all be over. We will be reunited and though different, our lives will still be meshed together.”

“You are such a beautiful soul.” Emmy said, kissing Nyss’ cheeks. “I love you.”

“I love you.” She responded, smiling through tears of pain.

“Emmy, it’s time to go.” Cullen said quietly. His words pulled her away from Nyss’s grasp and, and just like that was gone through the hall’s door.

Nyss put her back up to the wall and cupped her head in her hands. The pain this caused her, the only moments she had left with her friend. It ached in her soul. She let out a cry that was louder than she expected. She felt a stabbing in her heart. She fell to her knees and sobbed. She was shaking, and could tell from that brief visit, nothing good happened behind that door.

Cullen reappeared.

“Is that all the time I could have? It was mere moments.”

“It was more than you were supposed to have My Lady. Be great full, most people get none.” He reprimanded her.

Nyss hated to be corrected by a mage hating Templar, but she couldn’t disagree. “Then thank you for what you did allow me to have.” She sniffed, “I now know her fate is sealed. I will never see her again.”

“How do you know? Tomorrow may be fine.” Cullen said.

“She didn’t blow me a kiss like she usually does when she leaves.”

Cullen saw the pain in her face, and it made his heart ache.

She was still on the ground. Her knees were dirty and her hands were covered in tears. Cullen reached down to help her up. As he pulled her to her feet, he noticed the collar of her shirt was wet. He didn’t know how to react, as most people don’t care about what happens to mages, but this one Nobel woman did. He put his arms around her, and whispered, “I’m sorry for what I can’t change. She seems like the best friend someone could have.”

Nyss leaned her head on his shoulder. It was an odd feeling for her, it was a man she had not known more than a few days ago, but she felt comfortable enough to ask for his sympathy in this simple way.

As for Cullen, a woman in his personal space was a first. He kept strictly away from any thoughts of a woman, as not to be tempted. After all, no Templar wants to be struck by lightening for thinking of a woman as anything other than that.

After Nyss finally composed herself, she said “I would like to go back to my room to await the final test.”

“As you wish my lady.”

Cullen lead Nyss back to her room, and gently shut the door behind her. She then laid in her bed, with tears in her eyes, and fell asleep to the thoughts of her friend, whose appearance was as if she had been beaten and starved for the last week. Her dreams were not any better.

Chapter 10

Nyss woke up the next morning and opened her door anxiously awaiting any news of Emmy. Cullen was no where to be found. For the first time in a week, she had no one standing watch over her. ‘Where did he go?’ She wondered. It was uncharacteristic of him to leave her side.

Nyss put on her boots and made her way down the hallway to the entrance where she first came in. She pushed open the large door, and peaked around it. No one was around. This was her chance. She made her way across the hallway and to the door that lead to the mage quarters. Nyss fought to open the door, and when she managed to open it, heard the haunting sounds of people weeping.

“What the - ?.” She said to herself.

As she courageously continued in, her hands shook. ‘This hall is not like I imagined, it is a prison’. Rooms with barred windows lined the corridor, and across every flat surface was “To Serve Man and Never Rule over Them” in large black letters. It was the complete opposite from the Templar side of the tower.

Nyss looked into each room as she walked by. Bed, chair and shackles. ‘Shackles?’ Her heart pounded in her chest. ‘Was this was Emmy was subject to? A tender, gentle soul, chained to her bed for a week, out of the irrational fear she would succumb to a demons desire?’ She screamed in her mind.

Her intrusive thoughts continued as she made her way through the cell corridor until she came to another large door. This one was enchanted, she could tell from a far, and two templars were stationed outside of it.

This was the end of her exploring. The templars would never let her past. She quickly dodged into a room that had the door open for fear of being seen.

She hid behind the open door and let her eyes adjust to the light. Devastating. It was as awful as she could imagine.

There was feces on the ground and it stank like an ancient latrine. Dark shadows lined the wall, and the bed looked as if it had been recently vacated. She turned around to escape this nightmare and behind her stood a broad shouldered figure, dressed in all Templar Plate.

“What are you doing in here?” He asked looming over her.

“I - I needed to see what was behind the door.” She said quickly. “I promise I was not trying to do anything wrong.”

The Templar removed his helm. It was Cullen.

“My lady, this is no place for you. Come with me.” He grabbed her hand and took her out of the mage side of the Tower and back to the Templar side. He walked quickly and she followed behind, grasping his hand tighter with every step.

“You could get hurt.”

“Cullen mages aren’t as bad as you think. Please, understand that.”

“My lady, mages are vile, and need to be controlled. If they are not, they can turn into abominations, that breakthrough of the Fade. If allowed to roam free they could wipe out our entire existence.” He was stern. His eyes were focused, and his jaw was tight. He looked fearful and at the same time sure of himself.

Nyss could see something was not completely right. She feared the worst, then once she was in the Templars Quarters she looked Cullen in the eye and asked:

“What happened to her?”

“She - I, -she did not pass her final test.” His words fumbled out from between his lips and his hardened expression melted into regret.

“WHAT.” Nyss recoiled away from him.

Cullen moved in front of Nyss and placed a hand on each of her upper arms, holding her still. As if to brace her for the impact of his next words.

“From what I know, and been told to report to you, as the Circle Mages were performing their last test on her, she turned into a demon of rage. She killed a Templar and was then sentenced to a quick death.” His voice shook and his throat scratched.

“The Harrowing didn’t even happen, THAT’S the real final test. This was just supposed to be a precursor.” She said in absolute disbelief.

“My Lady,” Cullen paused, he had never dealt with someone who cared for a mage, this was a first for him. “The Harrowing is for ones who have been part of the Circle for a long time. This was a simple test to judge if she could even pass that in the first place. We have to be extra diligent with her being an apostate.”

“Cullen, she…, why?” Nyss completely broke down, The hold Cullen had on her arms was not strong enough, she fell to her knees and began to weep. Nyss started to gasp for air. Her lungs ached from the pain, and her heart felt as if someone had stabbed her and ripped her chest open. Her best friend was now dead, the most calm creature in existence was snuffed out because of magic, because of being betrayed by someone, because she was given at birth a gift that all in Thedas feared.

Nyss couldn’t handle it anymore. She stood up and looked at Cullen squarely in the eye. She wanted more information, something to let her know this wasn’t real. She tried to read his eyes, his lips, his thoughts.

Nothing.

She put her forehead on his chest and sobbed.

Cullen wrapped one arm around her body and the other placed on the back of her head, cradling her in place. He closed his eyes and calmly began his next words.

“My Lady, I know you’re angry. But please, please, know listen. Had she been out in Thedas as an apostate, she could have transformed into the demon and killed anyone or worse, possessed anyone near her, even you.” His attempt at comforting her made her cry harder. He wrapped his his other arm around Nyss and pulled her closer to him. She cried into him and she knew that Emmys life was over.

Cullen rocked Nyss back and forth in his arms, and laid his cheek on top of her head. Something her father had done when she would hurt herself or when Emmy would actually hit her with a fireball. Her mind raced with thoughts of what would be the next. Emmy was the only one in her life who understood her, who took care of her, who shared with her the deepest secrets, and just like that, she was gone, snuffed from existence.

Nyss wrapped her arms around Cullen’s strong shoulders and he embraced her tighter. It hadn’t occurred to her she was hugging him until this moment. She felt safe in his arms, and yet at the same time completely vulnerable.

She pulled away slowly, trails of tears running from her green eyes, the drops of sadness clinging to her eyelashes looked like diamonds in the light. She wiped her face.

“Thank you. I would like to collect her belongings and start to travel to Highever as soon as we can.”

“My Lady, I will get her things together and we will leave immediately.” Cullen paused and and drew in a breath. “I was instructed to give these to you.” He held up three parchment envelopes. “Emmy asked they be delivered to you if her fate was sealed.”

He gave them to Nyss and she hugged them to her body. She nodded in appreciation.

Cullen lead Nyss to her room one last time so she could pack her belongings. She did not come to the Circle with much, and she was leaving with even less. Nyss packed her clothes and her sleeping roll. She also packed the book she borrowed from the Library, and dawned her green cloak that Cullen gave to her.

Nyss wept for her friend as she arranged her things, making sure to secure the letters from Emmy carefully. She wished not read them now, but when she was less emotional to enjoy her finally moments with her.

Cullen had briefly left to secure supplies for the journey. He also came back with Emmys belongings. Nyss sifted through them thoroughly. A necklace with a locket, her ring, and her clothes she wore for the ride there. Nyss hugged the items tight then packed them in her bag. She took the ring as well as the necklace and secured them tightly by the letters.

She sighed a heavy sigh, and walked out her door to where Cullen was waiting patiently. In silence they walked to where their horses were stabled, and bordered the barge from the Circle to the main land.

Nyss dreaded what was to come, however she knew she had time to think about how to handle it. She watched the landing approach and gracefully mounted her steed, waiting for the long road ahead of her.

Chapter 11

When they disembarked from the barge, Nyss rode to the tavern on the shore. “The Spoiled Princess”. Cullen followed her closely, but by the time he had gotten to the door, she was already exiting.

“I needed to grab something.” She said sullenly. He looked at the bag she carried, it looked heavier than when they left.

As they made their way East away from the Tower, Cullen rode in front of Nyss. She watched his horse swing it’s tail back and forth and occasionally swat at flies with great force. She could hear the air whoosh by the coarse hair.

Nyss reached in her bag and pulled out a bottle of Hissing Drake. She tied it to her saddle and sipped it as she rode. The fiery burn as it went down her throat helped sooth the pain that was in her heart. She enjoyed the feeling of her head being slightly fuzzy and promised herself this was only to help the pain.

Nyss took another swig from the bottle. She continued to ride in silence behind Cullen who was also keeping to himself.

It was a quiet first day. Nyss needed this time to process what was happening. She hummed to herself songs that she and Emmy would sing in the Chantry. She wondered if the Maker was real, was there a place next to him, and did Mages go there.

Nyss rode up beside Cullen and looked at him cockeyed. “Where do Magesss go when they die?” She asked slightly intoxicated.

Cullen noticed. “My lady, are you alright?”

She looked at him and passed him the half drank bottle. “Bottoms up Rutherford.”

“Nyss.” Cullen stopped his horse and hers as well. He dismounted gracefully.

“What are you doing? I’m fine.” She protested as he brought her off her steed.

“I can’t have you falling off your horse while we ride. Let’s set up camp here for the night and we can both drink our thoughts away.”

“You’re not mad?” She asked as if she was going to receive a scolding.

He took her hands in his, and looked into her glazed over bloodshot eyes. “No, every day that I can make last longer with you is worth it, even under these circumstances.”

Nyss knew it was his job to protect her, but it was a comforting feeling that someone was there to champion her while she was so visibly inconsolable. Nyss could fight, but right now, she would be useless. As safe as the roads in Ferelden were, bandits were common these days.

The entire ordeal sapped all her energy and the inebriation didn’t help either.

Cullen walked over to a treed area that backed on to a small lake. It looked beautiful in the day light. Nyss walked cautiously over and tried to shake off her heavy buzz. She helped gather some fire wood and then laid out her sleeping roll.

“Do you want a tent?” He asked.

“No, I am going to let my soul be free to the skies so Emmy can watch over me.”

Cullen let the horses graze nearby and set up their saddles as pillows on the ground. He lit a fire, and started to warm up some food that he brought for them.

Nyss grabbed her blanket and her bottle of Hissing Drake and started to drink again. She passed it to Cullen, who took a long swallow. He had taken off his armor and was sitting in his tunic and trousers, just like Ser Gilmore did after a training session.

“Cullen- “ she said slowly. “You never answered my question. Where do Mages go when they die?”

“I always like to think they are with the Maker, no matter how they got there.” He said taking another generous sip of Hissing Drake. “Where do you think they go?”

“Someplace with no Circle or Templars.” She tilted her head to one side, “I think Emmy rests in the stars.”

“I think she does too.” Cullen said quietly.

“So tell me, Cullen Rutherford, have you never felt sympathy for a mage?” The alcohol that ran in her veins and gave her the courage to ask.

“Not until my eyes were opened by someone who sees more than just magic.”

Nyss sat back against a tree, the sun was setting and the hues of pink and orange filled the skyline. Nyss could make out a few stars that appeared early. She took a sip from the bottle and ate a piece of bread.

“What does being a Templar mean to you?…hic.”

“I wanted to help people. To protect them from harm. Make Ferelden safer. Show my family I have the ability to take responsibility. Being a Templar shows the world you want to do what’s right in the eyes of the Maker.”

Nyss crawled over to where he was sitting in front of the fire and propped herself up beside him.

“That’s a Nobel cause Ser Templar.” She couldn’t fault him on that. “Tell me, have you ever thought of leaving the Order?” She knew they had had this discussion earlier, but was hoping he’d tell her more this time around.

“I have thought about it, but I don’t think I would know what to do with myself if I did.” He looked at her. The sun was going down and the last rays of shine were dazzling in Nyss eyes.

“I understand. You could come to Highever! We always need more knights.” She said happily.

“That would be fun. I could train you to be an ever more skilled fighter, and continue to watch over you. Someone has to protect you from staunch nobles.” He grinned.

Nyss was flattered, so she plucked up the courage to ask Cullen something she’d wondered about. She figured it was the best time as ever. He had been part of the Chantry his whole life, and she was curious.

“Have you ever shared a kiss?”

Cullen looked at her surprised. “No, never.” He rubbed his hand on his neck awkwardly. “Have you?”

Nyss smiled for the first time that day. “No! Well once, I was five and there was a little boy running around the castle. He pecked me on the lips and ran away.” She laughed, “I started to cry.”

Cullen smiled at her, and put his arm around her shoulder. “I can picture you doing that.”

Nyss put her head on his shoulder. She took another sip from the bottle. “I may have …hic, bought three or four of these.” She announced sheepishly.

Cullen looked into her eyes. The fire lighting the night now, and her pale skin glowed in the light. “Then we will have the most interesting of time.” He said reaching for her bottle to have a drink.

The two of them sat there in the dark, watching the fire dance and sway. As sad as she was, she was happy he was there with her. She could never have imagined doing this journey on her own. Or with someone who did not even wish to converse.

Suddenly she remembered Emmys tokens.

“Cullen, the letters!”

“Are you sure you want to read it now?” He asked.

“I think it’s best, while I feel the way I do.” She dug through her bag and pulled out all three.

One was addressed to her, Ser Gilmore and the Amells. Nyss greedily opened the one to her and sat with her back towards the crackling fire.

Cullen could see her silhouette through her shirt where she sat and instead of adverting his eyes, he gazed at her form. It was perfectly curvy and beautiful. He had never seen anything so entrancing.

This went unnoticed by Nyss who was distracted by the letter. She looked up at him, “Can I read it to you? I don’t know if I can do this alone.”

“Please do.”

Nyss cleared her throat, and focused on the words. They were in Emmys handwriting. Slender letters with loops. She sniffed, then started read.

“My dearest Nyssandra,

I fear our time will be ending tonight. I wanted to give you this letter in my response to being caged. Please know I never want to be chained again. This week has taught me that without you, my family or Rodrick in my life, it would be a slow death.

That is why I am going to allow a spirit to take me over. I know the Templars will end my life - I cannot live with the thought of being in here, so please Nyss, be out there for me. Carry my memory with you. Love your life like you planned. Have adventure, have fun. Meet people, fall in love, save the needy, throw rocks at the Templars, but whatever you do, do not stop being you.

The hardest part is saying goodbye, I have loved you since the day you started following me around the Castle. You are what I consider a sister, and had I survived this ordeal, you would have been the best aunt to my unborn child. I named her after you, Visus. Roderick did not even know I am carrying her, but he will when he reads his letter.

Please my friend live and love. Do not let the end of my life end yours too.

May the stars guide you home, and someday we will be reunited among them.

All my love,

E.”

Nyss stopped. Her heart shattered in her chest. Cullen watched her eyes fill with sorrow and shock.

“She was… “ she started.

Cullens face turned a whiter shade of pale.

“You didn’t know?” He asked, moving her closer to him again. He placed his arm around Nyss and squeezed her into his shoulder. His own heart aching with the pain of knowing one life was not ended but two.

“It must have just happened, or she just found out. She would have told Ser Gilmore immediately.” Nyss crumbled into Cullens arm, her face in her hands.

“Ser a Gilmore? That was her betrothed?”

“Yes, and before you ask, yes, he knew what she was. It didn’t bother him. He loved her because of who she is, not what she has.” Nyss wiped away her tears again. She took a long swallow from her bottle, and Cullen did likewise.

They sat together in silence while the fire roared in front of them, sharing the bottle back and forth until it was gone. Nyss looked up at Cullen from her position. His face lit by the fire, and outlined by the dark sky. He looked tired and troubled.

“Are you alright?” She asked in a whisper.

Cullen shifted his gaze from the fire to the woman who was finding comfort in his left arm. His instinctually kissed the top of her head. Then wrapped his right arm around her, hugging her in the warm fire light. “Of all things, you ask me if I am alright.” He said in disbelief.

“Yes, I’ve done nothing but cry for hours. Most men from what I understand are rather uncomfortable with that.” She said slowly, making sure every words she spoke came out right.

“You are truly selfless.” He laid his cheek on the top of her head. “I am saddened by Emmy. I feel pain for her Ser Gilmore. I feel absolutely horrible about her unborn child, but mostly I feel for you.”

Nyss was unsure what he meant, but she asked kindly, “Why, I still have my life to get through, you need not feel sad for me.” She tried to sound optimistic.

“You are remarkable and I hate it. My life was simple, and then you come along and make me question my beliefs. You were not sent by the Maker, you were sent by his adversary.” He pulled her into him closer. “It only took me six days to fall prey to you.”

She breathed deep, “I did nothing.”

“You did not, and yet you did everything.” He paused as if to decide his next move. His body wanted to hold her, kiss her, take her sadness away.

“I think it’s best if we rest our heads.” Cullen gently let go of his embrace on Nyss and stood shakily.

He offered his hand to her and she gladly accepted the help. Together they staggered a few feet to their bed rolls. Nyss propped herself up against the saddle and lay on her back, with Cullen following suit on her right.

She stared at the sky though the tree branches, and as she did, Cullen reached for her hand, and held it tightly as he fell asleep.

Chapter 12

The next morning the weather had changed. The smell of rain and gloom was slithering in on the horizon.

The small sliver of day hit Cullen in the face and slowly pried his eyes open. He had been laying on his sleeping roll enjoying the momentary rest and the ache in his head from the previous nights Hissing Drake.

He looked over his left shoulder and saw an enchanting creature laying next to him. Her long hair tangled in the saddle she used as a pillow, and her green cloak tucked around her. He laid there a few more moments enjoying the view of her, then decided to wake her up.

“My lady, it’s time we get a move on.” He said gently rousing her.

“Hmm?” She rolled towards him and the memory of watching her sit in front of the fire flooded his mind.

Cullen had noticed she was beautiful, but last night, he resented her for it. Her mind and her heart were all to easily adored and her beauty just added to the perfect picture he was creating in his heart.

“Well, I think, I will be doing that again at some point.” She sat up. “How are you feeling?”

“Small head pain but nothing the day won’t fix.” Cullen smiled then looked out to the horizon. “It looks and smells like rain, let’s try to ride until we find an Inn, I would prefer to deliver you well and not ill.”

“I agree. From what I remember there’s one not far from here. A few hours ride.” She paused, “I really would love to sleep in a proper bed. It’s funny how you take that for granted.”

“Let’s get going - no one likes a drowned Templar.”

“Well, Mages do.” She forced a joke.

He smiled. “That I agree with.”

They cleaned up their campfire and made a point to leave nothing behind. They saddled their horses and mounted. As they started to ride, Cullen slowed his steed down to be in time with Nyss. They rode along side one another in silence until they were both fully awake.

Nyss tucked her hair into a braid and Cullen watched as she even adjusted herself to look more like a Nobel than usual.

“Why the change?” He asked.

“I wanted to befit the Templar guiding me home.” She said as she pushed a loose wave behind her ear. She wrapped her cloak around her and then glanced at him fiendishly.

He saw the mischievous look in her eye and she took off, with him following right behind her.

“Come on Ser Templar, catch me if you can!” She taunted as she rode faster and faster.

Cullen liked the chase. She was full of spirit and mystery. He enjoyed watching her in front of him dodge tree branches, and her cloak trailing behind her. Her strong calves kept her out of her seat, and she looked like she was gliding along with her steed. She was graceful and yet at the same time, so incredibly powerful.

Finally when Nyss saw Cullen could not catch her, she slowed her horses gait. When he caught up, she smiled at him.

“Not expecting that?”

“Not at all my Lady. It was fun, I could chase you forever.” He said, blissfully aware of the connotation.

She blushed, and they rode side by side again. “You do realize you can call me Nyss right?”

“There are other things I wish to call you.” He whispered to himself.

“Oh? Like?” She raised her eyebrow.

“Now I’m doing that speaking out loud instead of in my head thing you do.”

“Do tell.” She pried.

“I would call you exciting and adventurous.” He blushed. “I will call you Nyss, if you insist.”

She stopped her steed. “I do. The ones who may call me that are my friends. You are someone I would consider such.”

“So this is what it’s like to have one?” He said, running his gloved hand through his hair.

“I’ve enjoyed being around you and feel heavy hearted we have to go our separate ways soon.” She looked down.

“Then let’s live for the time we have left.” He said as he moved forward on his horse close enough to her to grab her hand. He took it in his, and gently kissed the back of it.

They day wasn’t far along when the rain had started to come down. They rode for nearly an hour in the downpour when the pair came to a tavern in what seemed like the middle of no where. They let out a breath of relief to see the smoke from the crooked brick chimney.

Once their horses were taken care of, the two grabbed their packs and made their way in from the storm. They were completely drenched from head to toe.

The tavern was warm and smelled of fresh bread. Nyss pulled down her hood and walked up to the Innkeeper.

“We require a room.” She said confidently.

“I have one left, so many people are trying to get out of the rain today. I hope it’s adequate.” The Inn keeper said looking her up and down.

“Thank you Sir, we will also require a meal, is there any lunch leftover?”

The inn keeper provided Nyss and Cullen with a hearty array of delicious items, and they decided to take it to the room they were provided. As they walked in, they immediately noticed there was only the one bed.

“I’ll make a spot near the fireplace. I like the warmth.” Nyss suggested.

“You take the bed, I can sleep on the floor.” Cullen insisted. “I know how much you wanted it.”

Nyss didn’t argue, she really wanted the bed. “Thanks, but first I need to dry off. I am absolutely freezing.”

“Why didn’t you say anything? We could have made a camp sooner!”

“It wouldn’t have helped, everything was soaked.”

Cullen started a fire in the fireplace and Nyss dug through her bag to find something change into. It was all wet. She looked over her shoulder at Cullen who had discovered the same thing. Nyss’ heart beat as she touched the letters from Emmy. ‘Still dry’ she thought. She was relieved.

She walked over to Cullen by the small table in the room and placed her hand on his back. He turned to her slowly, and she looked at him sheepishly.

“Everything I have is drenched. Do you object if I wrap myself in this blanket until they are dry?”

Cullen swallowed hard. She would be there, in the same room with him, naked. A lump formed in his throat and his eyes widened, and his pupils grew. “I am not worried. I have to do the same.” He lifted a shirt from the bag and it was completely saturated.

Nyss laughed. “Come on.” She grabbed his clothes and hers and began hanging them around the room. She slowly got undressed and as her trousers fell to her ankles she wrapped herself in a wool blanket. She then passed Cullen the other blanket and together they moved the bed in front of the fire to keep warm.

The rain was hitting the window loudly and the thunder was booming from the heavens. They sat together and watched the lightening display, while they ate, and took turns sipping on the Hissing Drake.

“You know, terrible as the whole situation is, this part with you has been very, eye opening.” She commented.

“Oh?”

“I enjoy you far too much good Ser.” She blushed. Her cheeks were flushed. Cullen could see her eyes dart between items on her plate. He changed the subject.

“To be fair Nyss, I never thought I’d be this close to a naked woman before.” He laughed.

“And I to a handsome man.” Her cheeks turned pink.

Nyss put her head on the Templars shoulder and watched the fire. His skin was warm, and he had a scar on his shoulder. It had been a deep wound. It was silvery, which showed its age

“What is this from?” She ran her finger lovingly over the scarring.

“If I told you a dragon bit me in an epic battle would you believe it?”

“If you want me to.” She smiled.

He took her hand from his shoulder and held it tenderly.

“I fell on my sword as a young boy. Just after I got to the Order, I was carrying it around on my shoulder and I tripped. Sliced nearly to the bone.” He made a motion with his finger indicating what happened. “I was so excited to be there I wanted to put on a show for the Senior Templars. I was such a foolish child.” He laughed and took a sip of the Hissing Drake.

Nyss instinctively kissed the old wound. Then realized what she did. “Sorry, I … I have no idea why I did that.”

Cullen blushed. His face completely rosy. “I-uh- I..”

Nyss tried to shake off the moment. She straightened up and took a long drink of the Hissing Drake. “You know, maybe I should just not go back to Highever.”

“What would you do instead?”

“Go to Orlais, or better yet, head to the Free Marches. I’m sure I could find some sort of work.”

“Why not go back? You have still much to do.”

“Inform people I love of the death of their daughter, future wife and their child?” She looked at Cullen squarely.

He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand and the light made his shadow behind him large. He cleared his throat, “At least I know you would be safe.”

“Then why don’t you come with me?” The words fell out of her mouth so quickly, she couldn’t pick them up. “I know I am young, but I know I would be very happy to keep you close.”

Cullen turned to her, and he looked into her eyes. The fire light illuminating the glow she naturally had. He wanted to say yes, for the first time in his life, he wanted to abandon the Order completely for a woman he only just started to know. He reached up, and pushed a piece of her wet hair behind her ear.

“Do not tempt me Nyssandra, My Lady. I am libel to do just so.” He whispered pushing his forehead into hers gently. “Then you would never be able to be rid of me.”

Nyss tried to examine his thoughts. Closing her eyes and pressing her forehead back into his. No luck.

“Once you leave me at the castle, I’m sure you’ll have other more important matters that will fill your life Ser.”

Cullen looked down and placed his hand on top of hers. He wrapped his fingers around hers and said quietly “Up until now, this has been the most important matter I have had. I can’t imagine something more profound, more exciting, or more enjoyable.”

Nyss felt her heart melt into her stomach. She was flattered, and yet did not know how to respond. She squeezed his fingers with her thumb, and he returned the flirtatious gesture.

There were no words they could share at this moment. They sat together in front of the fire in silence and drank more of the Hissing Drake while they waited for their items to dry.

What seemed like moments passed had truly been hours. Nyss got up to check on the clothes. The rain still pounding on the window panes. The sky had gotten darker, but it still was early in the day.

“Dry, mostly anyway. I’m still freezing!” She said excitedly.

“Why didn’t you say you were cold, I would have..” his voice trailed.

“Wrapped me in your strong Templar arms and held my naked body close while you recited the Chant of light to remain pure?” She cackled.

“How did you know?” He said putting his undershirt on.

“Oh I know you Templars, always innocent until BOOM you take advantage of the naive Castle Maidens.” She teased as she put on her sleeping trousers under her blanket.

“My Lady! I would never, and you can trust me on that.” He smiled.

She knew he was being funny but also serious. She did trust him, and she hated it.

Nyss threw on her jumper and a pair of socks. She laid out her sleeping roll and climbed on top and crossed her legs. She watched Cullen carefully as he sorted through what was left of his damp clothes and repositioned them to dry. He maneuvered his armor and his shield. She was curious.

“Can I feel your blade?” She asked.

“Of course. Be wary it’s quite heavy.” He said passing her his one handed sword.

She took it carefully and examined it. A true Templar sword, it had the Makers blessing after all she figured. It was perfectly balanced and weighed more than expected. “No wonder your muscles are massive.” She smiled.

“Here, try this.” He passed her his Templar shield.

Nyss stood and held both ready as to defend herself. She took a few swings with the sword and was knocked off balance by her own feet.

“This is far too cumbersome. I prefer my bow.”

“There aren’t many Templars who use those, but I assume there must be some.” He smiled. “Now give that back, anyone who has been drinking should not be wielding a weapon. And given how you just tripped on air, I’m concerned for my life.” He sheathed the blade once again.

Nyss laid back on the bed and Cullen started to get onto the floor.

“This is wrong.” She said, “There is plenty of room up here, please, you can lay next to me.”

“Are you sure?” He asked hesitantly.

“Cullen what’s the difference of laying beside each other on the forest floor or on a bed in a Tavern?”

“Is this a bad joke?” He smiled, “because I have no idea.”

She playful tapped him with her hand. “No I just mean we are drunk, we are fine. Nothing will happen. Well I may show you how to make shadow puppets.”

“Shadow puppets? Something you and Emmy did?”

“Of course, she taught me!”

Cullen stood up and laid out his bed roll on the soft bed. He climbed up next to her, and crossed his legs as she was. He could barely look at her. Her tunic was loose, but her back was to the fire place agin. Her form beneath her garment was womanly and smooth. He wanted to wrap his arms around her waist and not let go. He finally lifted his eyes to her face. Soft skin, tanned by the sun, the scar under her ear, her nose perfectly pointed and the slightest upturn. Her hair, now half dry wavy in front of her face.

“You are the most beautiful creature.” He said so quietly, he wasn’t even sure she heard him..

She had heard him.

She blushed.

Once he was settled Nyss grabbed a lantern and put it between them.

“Alright,” she said holding her hands above her head, “this is a bear.” She maneuvered her hands to form a creature on the ceiling. “This is a dove.” Again she changed her hands a a bird appeared.

“This is a rabbit.” Cullen happily joined in, “and this is a crown, fit for any queen.”

They both started laughing. “What’s so funny?” She asked.

“I was going to ask you the same thing.” He smiled.

“Well for me, Emmy and I would do this a lot when I was younger. She’d tell me stories and illustrate with pictures. It makes me happy to have someone else to share it with.”

“I laughed because I haven’t had this much fun in so long the last person I did shadow puppets with was Mia. Maker she’s amazing.”

“I believe it. You speak warmly of her. I love it.”

Cullen turned his head to face Nyss, she had laid down on her side and was resting her head on her hand. ‘Maker, keep me strong.’ He thought as he smiled at her.

She smiled back.

“Goodnight my fair lady.” He kissed her hand she just placed at her side. “Till tomorrow?”

“Do you wish to hear a story to help you sleep?” She asked.

“You tell stories?”

“Another thing we used to do together.” She shrugged, and turned to lay on her back.

“Then tell me.” He laid down next to her, and she started to tell him the story of the Black City and how the old gods were coming for their revenge.

She had been telling the story long enough that the lantern went out, and Cullen was happily sober again.

“Sorry, I must have bore you, I love ancient stories.” She said.

“No my lady. I could listen to you all my life.” He picked up her right hand in the dark and kissed it gently. He went to let go and she wouldn’t release him. Nyss gripped it tight, and rolled towards him, she placed her head on his shoulder and her opposite hand on his chest. She held him tightly to her.

“Goodnight my Templar.”

“Goodnight my lady.” He said cradling her in his safe embrace.

The rain had really interfered with their journey. The next few days were muddy and cold. Nyss continually tried to keep herself warm, and Cullen was doing his best to remain chaste.

Every night he slept with her in his arms, and every night he told himself he was trying to help keep her protected from the elements.

He knew it wasn’t true. He wanted her, he wanted to be with her. He did not want this adventure to come to a close. He had so easily become entranced by her, that he was willing to give her whatever she wanted to keep her as his ward.

Cullen’s heart began to tear. As much as he loved the Chantry, he was also falling victim to an emotional entrapment, one of which he did not want to let go of. He hated it, but also enjoyed being someone’s focus.

They were nearly done their journey and on this particular night Cullen insisted at stopping at a lake he had visited as a child.

The pair decided to take an early day to enjoy the spring and the lakeside. Nyss was more than pleased, she wanted to wash her hair and had been looking forward to it all day.

They set up their sleeping rolls and fire, let the horses graze, and then they both walked to the waters edge to start fishing for any sort of thing they could cook.

“Who taught the nobility to fish?” He asked.

“Fergus taught me. He made sure I could swim, and fish. No sister of his was going to drown easily.” She laughed.

Within a few minutes Cullen had caught enough fish on his simple line to have a full meal. He then wandered back to the campsite and laid them out and salted them to prepare them for when they would cook them.

As he did, Nyss took this moment to her advantage. She stripped to nothing but her small clothes and waded into the water with a bar of soap. Cullen came back and shielded his eyes. She laughed.

“What are you doing?” She called to him from the middle of the small lake.

“I want to leave you with your dignity in tact.”

“Oh my, come on, you could use a wash too.” She teased.

Cullen didn’t object, he was surprised at how easy it was to wear nearly nothing in-front of her and not be embarrassed. The water was cool on his skin, and it helped smooth his aches from riding.

“This feels so refreshing. It is almost like having a bath, just colder.”

“I enjoy this. I would swim here as a child when we passed by.” He splashed her with the crystal water.

“I can see why, it’s so peaceful, did you come here often?” Nyss asked as she lathered her soap and started washing her hair.

“A few times, my sister and I would play games together in the lake, and see who could hold their breath the longest. It was here my mother and father told us they had conceived us.” He laughed. “They thought it good luck after Mia was born.”

Nyss smiled and started to rinse her hair. The water ran down her shoulders and between her breasts like a water fall. Cullen was mesmerized. She could tell.

“Would you like the soap?” She asked, breaking his focus on her wet body.

He choked, “Ye-mmhm yes please.” He washed himself and then dove under the water.

Nyss couldn’t see where he had swam off too, so she looked around for him. Finally she felt something tug at her knees. She laughed. Cullen came up for air and wrapped his arms around her midsection. Then plunged them both under the clear waters.

Nyss fought to get back to the surface and Cullen had disappeared again. She gasped for air, but realized this was some sort of game he was playing. After a while they both tired and went to the shore. They laid on the sand there under the grey sky, drying off.

“You are too much fun you know.” She smiled.

“So are you. The fact you didn’t scream from the first time I pulled you under says a lot.”

“What do you mean?”

“You trust me.” He said quietly.

She paused, then spoke. “I do. It isn’t difficult to do so.”

Cullen smiled and laid back on the shore. He fiddled with a pile of rocks until he picked out one he liked. “In all this sand, there is a special stone. It reminds me of you, and our time we have spent together.” He said, “In all Thedas I never thought I would meet someone like you.”

She blushed, “Is that a compliment?”

“Completely.” Cullen didn’t know how else to respond. He longingly looked at the woman sitting next to him. He wanted to hold her, he wanted to for one moment forget what it was to be a Templar, and kiss the lips that he thought about for the last several nights.

He leaned in, and as he did, he could smell her. She smelt like beauty and sadness. He took his finger and ran it along the side of her neck where she had the scar. Her soft skin on his felt like a dream. Her skin responded and turned bumpy from eager anticipation.

Nyss shivered and Cullen remembered who and where he was. Nyss didn’t say a word, instead she moved closer to him. She placed her hand around his chin, and lifted her lips to his.

Cullen pulled back before they allowed themselves to enjoy the moment.

“I’m so sorry Cullen, I just..” she stopped, she looked ashamed.

“No, I know. I-uh-ugh.” He said taking her hand in his. He got up, and without a word walked back to the campsite.

Nyss sat there feeling foolish. She brought her knees to her chest and rested her head on them. ‘Did I read him wrong?’ She thought. As the hour went by she finally plucked up enough courage to go and sit by the fire with him. The sky had started to darken into evening, and she was getting hungry.

She sat down and Cullen passed her some fish. “Eat, you’ll need it.”

Nyss didn’t eat. She just sat there, trying to figure out what to say as she enjoyed her supper. Finally she spoke.

“Cullen look I…”

“No my lady.” He cut her off.

He Stood and walked over to her. He offered his hand down to her and she took it and stood in front of him. He led her back to the shore, and watched together the oncoming darkness as the dusk settled in.

“I - I have resisted up until now, but I’m afraid I cannot anymore.” He looked down to his feet. “I -Makers Breath Nyssandra you are absolutely something else. I’m a fool. I let the perfect moment escape.”

“No you aren’t.” She said softly, pushing his soft hair behind his ear, and caressing his cheek in her hand. “I am the one who should apologize. You are a man of Faith. I should never have thought you-never, ugh, never have.” Her words were stumbling from her lips. Cullen placed his hands on her jaw and put his thumbs on her lips as if to say, ‘it’s fine.’

“May I have the absolute pleasure?” Cullen asked.

“Are you certain?” He heart started to race.

“I have never been more certain in my life.” He whispered as he brought his lips home to hers like it was meant to be

The feeling in her stomach was one she had never had before, a sinking bottomless Feeling, where lightening bolts went off that made her legs weak. She didn’t want that his lips to leave hers. Cullen gently wrapped his arms around her lower back and brought her in closer.

Nyss couldn’t believe she was being kissed by a man, no less a Templar. She was cold, but his lips on hers made a fire ignite inside of her. She was enjoying every moment of it. He was gentle and firm, as she melted into him.

His strong arms pulled her even closer to him. Both of their breathing was becoming more rapid. Nyss knew he was her end.

Cullen kissed her nose and her neck. She let out a quiet moan of relief.

“This is what it means to fall.” She whispered as he kissed her scar.

She closed her eyes and let her body sink into him. She didn’t want him to let go. She wanted this to go on forever. She started walking backwards to their campfire. Each step, she was kissed, she felt more and more of a desire welling up inside of her for this man.

When they reached the campsite, Cullen gently let go.

“If I do not stop now, I’m afraid I never will.” He said still breathing rapidly.

“I don’t want you to stop. Ever.”

Cullen reached down and took her hand, and placed it on his beating heart. She could feel it was strong, pulsating through his body.

Nyss sunk down onto her bed roll and he on his, still holding her hand on his heart.

“Do you feel this?” He asked.

“Yes.”

“It has never beat like this. For anyone. It started during our first few days together and it won’t stop.” He kissed her finger tips. “You have done this to me.”

Nyss blushed. “You realize,” she took his hand and placed it on her heart. “You did this to me.” Her heart was beating through her chest. The burn in her soul wanted him all for herself. “These last few weeks have been shrouded in pain and anger, but you for some reason have helped me in more ways than anyone could possibly understand.”

Cullen for the first time in his life knew what it meant to be needed. He liked it. He wanted to be hers. He wanted all of her. He put his hand behind her head and wove his fingers into her hair. “You’re all I want.” He whispered pulling her closer and kissing her passionately in the fading light of his once bright campfire.

0 notes

mylordshesacactus · 2 years ago

Text

The Fall Of Canticle: Part II, And The Truth

So as of last session, my players have learned what’s really going on, and why it’s such a secret, and how little time there is to try to stop it.

It happened like this: They solved the TREATY puzzle. As the final ring ground into place and locked, the glyphs and magical inscriptions all snapped into place at once--triggering the complex network of interlinked Major Illusion, Magic Mouth, Prestidigitation, and Thaumaturgy spells contained in small semiprecious stones set every 12 inches around the entire underground chamber.

Small spells, weak ones. Ones that could be cast by a trusted hired mage of average skill--or with countless applications of low-level wands over the course of years.

The party is aware that this is an illusion--they ID’d the network as being dormant and containing only harmless illusion spells long before they tried to activate it. But it’s a VERY good illusion and it’s a bit of a shock regardless.

As soon as the spell activates, they’re snapped out of the safe sunlit underground chamber and flung directly into hell.

It’s easy to figure out, after some disorientation, that this is the Rending. It could hardly be anything else. The sky is black-purple and writhing, like it’s been turned to blood. The landscape is charred and glowing with blacklight, wrong, unnatural. Completely destroyed. In the sky above them are creatures so massive it’s impossible to comprehend if they even have a shape, and so shifting and horrific and formless that maybe it’s better not to know.

Everything smells of death and blood and salt and burned rubber, and the figures the party just grew familiar with through their statues are scattered around the piles of shattered, burning buildings--in full color now, shouting, alive. Most of them. A few are terrifyingly still.

As they watch, the one figure they don’t recognize--a young human man, late 20s, mage robes, and clearly the Bastion of Life as he was in his adventuring days--shouts and throws up a barrier of some kind. It holds--holds--then shatters, the backlash throwing him ten feet through the air. A deep magenta-skinned tiefling woman--Rochelle Willowfeather, as they know her--grabs him and hauls him to his feet in passing, dragging him out of the way of a blast of invisible power that explodes a chunk of masonry like it’s balsa wood.

He pants out a thank-you, she tells him to stay down, and then a tentacle the size of a redwood trunk hits her at about ninety miles an hour and throws her across the battlefield, into a stone pillar.

The young man cries out as if in pain; then, hyperventilating, ducks down behind the cover his leader may have just died getting him and says, out loud, a realization: “We can’t do this. We can’t do this on our own.”

Another, visible, realization: He’s just had an idea.

He stands, hands working frantically. The party wizard tries to track the spell but can’t recognize it--but its purpose becomes clear immediately.

Sebastian Wrighthall-Cooper burns his ninth-level spell slot at the end of the world to cast Time Stop.

Everything goes still. Eerily silent, except for his panting. He steadies himself. Casts another spell--Plane Shift. Opens a portal. A glowing, green portal--a passage to the Faewild.

Time moves differently in the Faewild.

The vision shifts--becomes more rapid-fire. They see Sebastian, questing through the fae realm. He’s not visibly aging, nothing that dramatic--but he’s growing a patchy beard, his clothes becoming visibly ragged. They see him bartering favors, trading power, making deals. Access. Resources. Audiences. He gets an oath from an archfey to return him at the time and place he chooses. Things like that.

They watch as he struggles, as he bleeds, as he kills some people and saves others. As he gets more and more stressed, more and more desperate. They watch as he lies. They watch as he tells the truth, as he bargains, as he begs.

They watch as he makes a deal he should not have made.

The memory is...off, somehow. As if whatever illusory magic powers the room couldn’t quite manage to represent this figure. The vison is bright, uncomfortably so, making it hard to visually focus on anything or make out details.

But the figure, in a voice they’ve never heard before and can’t describe, is clearly in the middle of a negotiation. It laughs, softly, not unpleasant. It asks Sebastian--the only thing clearly visible--if he truly has nothing better to offer than the promise of a future favor--from a mortal? In exchange for nothing but that--why, human, should I save this kingdom for you?

And the party watches as he asks the fatal question:

Your Majesty, would you save the Dominion for yourself?

It’s sealed with a handshake. Sebastian Wrighthall-Cooper has promised the Queen of the Fae that she can have the Spellbound Dominion to rule as she sees fit, if she kills the monsters that threaten it.

The vision snaps back to the ruins of Canticle and the apocalypse unfolding there. Everything is still. Silent. Sebastian blinks back into existence in a rush of emerald. He breathes. He has a beard now. He hasn’t cut his hair.

As suddenly as it ended, hell opens up again. The unearthly screaming returns, somehow more deafening than before because it’s coming from dead silence. The reek of death slams back into place, the roiling sky--

Come on, Sebastian breathes. Come on, any second, if she doesn’t--it has to be now, it has to be now--

Over the horrific wet shriek of the Plane of Madness, a sound: The clear, piercing, silver note of hunting horns in the distance.

We don’t see the battle. The battle isn’t what’s important here.

The next vision, we see the party back on their feet. Rochelle has a broken arm, but none of the devastating injuries that we last saw her take. She’s breathing again, doesn’t seem in pain. They’re all standing in the aftermath of a battlefield, catching their breath, starting to come down from an adrenaline high.

The party, the modern-day party, the real people watching this unfold--realizes suddenly that they recognize the way thee heroes are standing. That they’re starting to recognize the specific positions. Ylla Telaryn, their soft-voice healer, shakes her head with a weary laugh. “I don’t know what you did or how you did it,” she says, doesn’t notice that Sebastian nearly winces and starts to interrupt, “But I’m glad it--”

In the background, Rochelle Willowfeather just barely starts to glance up, as if something in the distance has caught her eye--

Two things happen within seconds of each other. The first is a blinding flash of light--we don’t see Sebastian’s party turned to stone, but we see the positions they’re in. Down to the specific fall of fabric, the shift of hair--this is the moment.

The second, simultaneous--impossible to even tell who moved first--is Sebastian casting one last spell. This time, Audie the party wizard doesn’t need to roll to recognize it. She became an adventurer to prove herself--a former lover, an adventurer herself, decided that with the renown she’d gotten she could do better than just a low-level archive mage, that Audie wasn’t interesting enough anymore, and Audie spitefully wants to prove that she was always good enough to be whatever she wanted and being an archivist was a choice.

Audie, who became an adventurer to prove she had as much power as anyone ele, knows this spell, would know this spell.

In the same moment the Faerie Queen strikes, or perhaps just before, or just after, two powerful figures who always intended to double-cross each other--an arrogant human wizard who signed a contract that wasn’t his to sign, who believed his party do anything together, who thought they could fight the fae and win and didn’t realize others were smart enough to realize the same thing, who thought he could con the Queen of the Summer Court and is about to pay dearly for it--

Sebastian Wrighthall-Cooper, who was the son of a barrel-maker once, casts Wish.

It works.

The party sees it work, watches as it takes hold, and watches as it goes terribly, terribly right. The vision fades, and the contraption that had once been a riddle now glows with faint arcane calculations, very clear to anyone with the background for it--and Audie has that.

Wish is not a spell, not really. There’s no incantation, no material components to gather, no ritual to perform. It is the hardest thing in the world because it is not a spell. To cast Wish is nothing more or less than acting as a direct, open, unimpeded conduit for all the raw energy of the universe at once--and surviving the experience. Divine, arcane, every element at once, all of it.

For a single, brief instant, you become a god. And if you try to grasp at more than that single heartbeat, it will destroy you. Sometimes it does anyway.

The only way to use that kind of energy is to give it a direction. You can’t control it, not really--just channel it. That’s why the safest method is to use Wish to replicate the effects of another spell--something you already fully comprehend, already know how to do, just using your open tap on all the power of creation to substitute for paltry material concerns. If you want to do anything beyond that, you have to know exactly what you want. You have to know exactly what you’re asking for.

This is not a carefully-crafted gift from a benevolent force. You are, in this moment, your own god, and the power you are allowing to flow through you does not think like a human being. You have to point it in exactly the right direction, and if you don’t have a crystal-clear focus, a laser-guided idea of exactly what you want, there will be unexpected side effects. There...are almost always unexpected side effects. It’s impossible, in a stressful moment, with so much power searing through your veins, to keep a clear mental image of ONLY the EXACT effect you want.

Sebastian Wrighthall-Cooper casts Wish, and asks for magic that will protect his kingdom completely--ensure that no fae can set foot beyond the border, ever.

He gets exactly what he wanted.

It’s a concentration spell.

Oh, not in the traditional sense. He can sleep, he can eat, he can perform other tasks without focusing constantly on the spell. If you slap him, it won’t end the world. But if he ever uses magic again, the barrier falls.

The curse on his friends, the magic Audie detected instantly upon touching them, the faerie spite that sealed their petrification far beyond a simple restoration spell, is clear. Nothing short of a Wish can restore them.

There is only one person on the planet powerful enough to cast Wish.

And he’s getting old. He was nearly thirty during the Rending...and that was fifty years ago. And he has not led a stress-free life. The barrier is beginning to waver. Little by little, a few feet every year, the protective bubble defending the Spellbound Dominion from fae incursion has been shrinking, a defensive cordon slowly pulling inward. And every decade or so, the barrier trembles hard--instead of drawing in by a few feet, it stabilizes, wavers dramatically, then snaps hard inward, by anywhere from one to ten miles.

The contraption that triggered the illusions now serves two purposes--it contains the calculations for the barrier spell, explaining how it works. It’s also etched with a functional map of the Spellbound Dominion, including a glowing band showing the current perimeter of the bubble....

And a countdown timer.

The edge of the “bubble” isn’t a paper-thin force field. It’s a wide band, a stretch at least a mile wide. This is the “siphoning” that Arlette has been picking up. Ambient magic isn’t being sucked away to fuel some big spell--it’s MOVING, being drawn slowly inward, because they’re currently inside the edge of a powerful enchantment.

In three to six weeks, the barrier is going to waver again. Judging by the calculations on the puzzle board, it’s going to snap inward by about ten miles.

Suncrest will be left on the outside.

#d&d #welcome to the endgame #suncrest

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saphirered · 4 years ago

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Hello!

So here’s my idea, wizard reader is having an in-depth conversation with Gilmore about magic while the rest of Vox Machina are getting drinks at the bar. Reader looks over and sees a bar fight starting and goes “lol what a bunch of idiots” she looks closer and is “wait! Those are my idiots!” And she goes to help in the fight.

Mostly platonic shenanigans and maybe a dash of hinted romance if you feel like it. Have a good weekend!

Vox Machina, just returned from yet another adventure, high on adrenaline and willing (perhaps except for Vex) to spend the coin they made to celebrate their win.

“Come on! Join us!” Grog slaps a hand on your shoulder perhaps a bit too hard making you stumble. Keyleth comes up to your side throwing an arm over your shoulder as she fiddles with something in her other hand.

“Yeah! It will be fun!” Keyleth exclaims. You notice the thing she’s messing with and take it from her immediately wrapping it in a piece of cloth safely storing it.

“I’d love to but you lot are entirely to blame for not letting me identify these magical items we found. They might be dangerous. What if they’re cursed? What if one eats through the bag of holding causing a rift and sending you all to a floating demise in the Astral Sea, huh?”

“We could just sell them off? More coin to buy ale!” Grog beams swinging the new sword he found dread and anxiety filling your mind at the memory of Craven Edge.

“Just help me get this stuff to Gilmore and hope he’ll be willing to help.” You grumble adjusting the shield Pike found on your back. You swear, one day they’re gonna end up cursed if they don’t listen to you.

You were already hesitant when they wanted to raid the evil mage’s collection. After a multitude of traps being set off it didn’t exactly alleviate your worries and with the mage’s reputation, neither does carrying these items.

“Leave her alone, guys. Let the magic folks do magic stuff.” You’re about to thank Vax but of course he has to go ruin it when he addresses you directly.

“If you wanted to go see Gilmore so badly you could just have said so.” Vax grins with a wink.

“Oh, Vax, I would say you’re welcome to join but I think with your shameless flirting neither of us will get any work done by the end of the day. Would we even make it to the tavern come daybreak?” You wink back at the rogue at loss for words as Vex wipes away some tears of laughter seeing her brother’s expression, Scanlan slow claps with a nod of approval and even Percy tries his best to hold back a laugh covering it with a cough earning a glare from Vax.

You make it to Gilmore’s who’s more than happy to help you identify the magical items you’ve brought along cutting down work time by a lot. The rest of Vox Machina left to find a suitable tavern and would meet you later once you finished up.

Gilmore and you go through the stash of magical items quickly, as quick as you can of course which still takes the both of you the better part of an hour. And yes, some of the items you found are cursed and you couldn’t be more relieved they did not stay in the possession of your fellow party members long enough for some terrible effects to kick in.

Gilmore took those off your hands to dispel or lock away safely and the two of you would simply tell the others they disappeared, got destroyed in the process of identifying or weren’t worth anything and therefor not worth keeping around.

Successfully preventing what could quite possibly be yet another disaster you invited Gilmore along to grab a drink after a long day of work. The two of you got some drinks, found a table and continued your conversation under less focused circumstances.

“- and they simply cannot wrap their heads around the fact that enchanting takes not only time but a lot more gold than Vex is willing to spend. Cutting down the costs for R&D is simply impossible. I’d gladly make her some fireball arrows but she will have to accept the cheapest I can make them is 500gp a piece!” You lean your head on your crossed arms face down with a groan before sitting back up taking a swig of your drink.

“Forever the bane of practitioners of the arcane, dear.” The two of you clink your tankards together and drink. Some kind of commotion has begun on the other side of the room, people had already been gathered around making it difficult for you to see but it’s a tavern, not like you cared.

“That looks like the beginnings of a fight. What do you think? Cheater or sore loser?” Gilmore gestures towards the crowd getting rowdier.

“Both? Neither? The petty grievances of idiots?” You’re indifferent to the whole situation and prepare to sit back and watch the show enjoying your drink when you see a goliath burst from the crowd sending several people previously trying to keep him down flying in all directions with a roar in what could only be described as joy and excitement.

“Oh shit…” You throw your head back with an audible groan, let out a deep sigh and throw back your drink, slamming the now empty tankard on the table.

“These idiots will one day be the death of me.” Getting up from your seat you crack your knuckles trying to get a visual on your friends in what has now become a full on bar fight.

“But they are your idiots nonetheless.” Gilmore smiles all too innocently at you. Damn that charismatic sorcerer playing on your feels for your idiots. They are your idiots indeed.

A drunken halfling is mere inches away from clubbing Percy in the back of the head with a metal plate, Scanlan is running and dodging the attacks from a human by moving around chairs and tables and other people singing songs of encouragement to Pike who holds another by the front to their shirt punching them in the face. Keyleth has a grasping vine going attempting to keep her assailants at bay. Vex and Vax are back to back fighting off whoever comes at them with grins on their faces, picking a pocket here and there and Grog is enjoying tossing people into the furniture a little too much.

“Excuse me for just a moment.” You put on a proper apologetic smile before you turn around. The smile drops and you stride over to the group casting a 6th level hold person as you go successfully freezing, the halfling attacking Percy, two of Keyleth’s attackers, the one chasing Scanlan, and another that’s about to dodge Vex’s punch.

“Yeah!” Grog roars as he sees you join the fight. Maybe you’re enjoying this a bit too much for your own good after all… Someone should stop this fight before someone gets seriously hurt. Who are you kidding? You’re with Vox Machina; you’re basically gods.

#critical role #critical role x reader #critrole x reader #vox machina x reader #vox machina #scanlan x reader #percy x reader #keyleth x reader #grog x reader #vax’ildan x reader #vex'ahlia x reader #vax x reader #vex x reader #pike x reader

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on-noon · 2 years ago

Text

Manuscript Search Tag

thanks for the tag @talesofsorrowandofruin

all of these are from “life friends & friendship ends”, only the “shine” one is edited, though

Small

The mage takes out a key and goes in. I follow her.

It's a small stone building, with a locked portal, and who must be the portal mage sitting there. The mage nods to her, and the portals unlock, the purple glow starts spinning again. We go through, and come out in a portal room.

Shine

I wake up because a moth twitches on my arm. I twist, and it teleports. Once the moth leaves, the house is motionless. My leg throbs, so I lean on the wall for support as I stumble down the stairs. The midday light crosses through the windows and outshines the candles. Kaztra always extinguishes each candle before she leaves.

Sleep

"Hey, Kalar, now that I'm the head advisor, I can do things like tell you to take a rest, and it will be part of my job. So go get some sleep. While today is busy and such, tomorrow won't be any better," Thalar says, so I go to my room.

I technically should take the Royal Chamber, but I'd rather just sleep in my childhood bedroom for now. I can switch to the Royal Chamber later.

Sombre

I don’t have this one. Anywhere. Even spelt as ‘somber’.

Shock

"Oh, that. So I was in Mashalan to visit my mom's cousins and such, and I went to watch an illusionist show, it was very impressive. And anyway, I wanted to make my own cool illusions, I was like eight, so I wasn't very smart. Anyway, I stole some of the moss used for illusions from the illusionist, I didn't realize this was the same moss that is on practically rock over there, and the moss already had illusions in them that weren't released, and I somehow managed to release the illusions, but I had taken the moss back to the hotel I was staying at, and released it in a dining room that was smaller than the illusion, so it warped really weirdly, and shocked everyone, because there was all of a sudden a full size, and because of the shock, my dad was cutting up a turkey, and the knife flew out of his hand and hit someone on the arm," Famak says.

tagging: @aohendo @bodoramzap @mel-writes-with-her-dragons @cactusmotif

your words are: weary, wonder, whisper, white, worry

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marblesphere · 3 years ago

Text

Xiao x reader

!Angst Warning!

Slowly and gently, I can see how he tucks the loose lock of her hair to her ear. I can also see how she blushes at his gentle gesture. A small barely noticeable smile on his lips. I clench my fist tightly, I feel the Qingxin flower's stem crushed in my palm. I want to walk away from the irritating scene, but my feet are rooted on the ground. As if some force prevented me too.

It took all my willpower to tear my sight from them. "Xiao…" I whispered to the wind, hoping he would notice. But alas, the harsh reality proved otherwise.

10 years. It took me ten years to befriend the so-called vigilant yaksha. The only remaining yaksha. The yaksha which is said to be the coldest amongst all of the adepti in Liyue.

I met Xiao when I was 6 years old. I was lost in a forest near Liyue harbor. I remember Granny Ping said to call Adeptus Xiao if I ever had any trouble. So with a snotty nose, I wail out his name. A gust of gentle breeze blows before a tall big brother (at that time) in teal arrived. He frowns at me. I still remember my hand, which was full of snot and tears, grabbed his long sleeves and cried to it, effectively soiling the pristine cloth.

He almost flung me instinctively, but I know how hard I grabbed it and I am still a Liyue citizen. Xiao kneeled and with an awkward pat on my head, he lifted me up easily. Without a word, he jumps high. I can still vividly remember the breeze blowing my face. I stopped crying immediately and realized how high we were.

Tears were replaced with small giggles. From the position we were, I found my parents shouting my name. "Papa and mama." I leaned my body, wriggling out of his arms.

"Don't move." That was the first time I heard his voice. It's so beautiful that I shut up immediately. Xiao maneuvered and landed near to my worried parents.

"Mama, Papa!" I rushed to them right after Xiao put me down. My mother quickly hugs me tight, afraid if I were to disappear again.

"Where were you?! Do you know how worried we were?!" Papa scolded.

"But Papa, Adeptus Xiao took me home." I wriggled out from my mother's embrace and looked behind me, only to find empty space.

"Adeptus Xiao was with you?" Papa asked bewildered.

"Yep. Granny Ping told me to call for Adeptus Xiao if I had trouble. I did and he came. He jumped so high and I could see you." I excitedly told them my tale.

Not long after, I finally found out not many people can meet the elusive Adeptus. But I was determined to meet him again. To thank him and befriend him.

So, I ask the most knowledgeable person in this world, Granny Ping. Granny Ping told me that Qingxin is his flower. I want to pick one, but it only blooms in high peaks which is impossible for me. So, the next best thing is buying from a florist. Granny Ping also told me where to give the flower. Wangshu inn. Thus, I made it my mission to go there everyday to give him a Qingxin flower.

In Wangshu inn. As expected, I couldn't meet Xiao, instead I met the owner. Verr Goldet. After hearing my reasoning to visit the elusive Adeptus. She told me to put the flower on the balcony on the highest floor. I will stay there for hours without meeting him. And I do this everyday for almost a month.

Maybe Verr was taking pity on me. She told me to help her deliver a plate of Almond tofu to Xiao. And thus, our second meeting. I was so excited that I almost fell flat smashing the tofu to the floor if not for his fast reflex.

Xiao frowns when he sees me. "Adeptus Xiao, thank you." I smiled as I gave him the flower.

"Don't come close to me." He frowned.

"But, I want to." I shook my head. "Granny Ping told me you have protected us. I want to thank you." I pouted.

"...I am just doing my job according to the contract. I don't need any thanks." He said.

"Even so, I want to thank you." I said persistently.

I think that was the time he gave up explaining to a small naive kid. From that day on, I meet him everyday with a Qingxin flower and a plate of almond tofu. Of course, I still have to call him or else he won't show up even with almond tofu.

After a year, he softened up a bit. At least, I don't need to wait for him on the balcony. He will always be there by the time I reach the balcony with a flower and a plate of almond tofu. Another year and I can even manage to slip a Qingxin flower to his hair. And the second year of our meeting is truly the start of my happiness. Xiao gave me a small trinket made from sage technique to ward off evil. Every year following that on my birthday the small trinket will increase, a crystalfly, a leaf butterfly, you name it. And last year, he gave me an amulet. The amulet I have never taken it off since I wore it on my birthday.

In exchange I too, so persistently celebrate his birthday, since he won't tell me when is his birthday, I just mark the date we met is his birthday, not until a few years later he finally grumpily told me his real birthday.

I started learning martial arts and cooking courtesy from Xiao for the former and Smiley Yan for the latter.

10 years of hardwork, 9 years of nurturing feelings, all of them have gone to the drain. With just one appearance of this girl. No, she is not a traveller with a fairy. She is just someone from Qingce village. Xiao met her when he was patrolling around the area. Just in a month she undone all my hardwork. Now they are a step away from being lovers.

I made my way back home. For the first time in 10 years, I didn't go to Wangshu inn, no I didn't go to meet him. A fresh Qingxin I have picked and a plate of almond tofu are laid forgotten on the table. Fresh tears finally flowed down from my eyes. It hurts. It hurts so much looking at them. It hurts so much seeing him smile at them. The smile that I thought only I could see.

'It's not yours anymore.' A sickly sweet voice whispered

'He is finally happy. He finally rid himself of you. You are just a worthless girl. You don't deserve him.'

'The love of his life is not you. It will never be you.' The sickly sweet voice cackled gleefully.

That night I succumbed to the negative emotion of mine.

The next day, I resolved to investigate that girl. I have realized I am not good enough for him. That's why I want to make sure she is good enough for him.

'You just want to make yourself better if you find a flaw in her. What a liar.' The voice back in my mind echoed.

I shake myself, trying to get rid of those voices. First, I will obviously start from Liyue. I heard her parents are doing business in Liyue and she sometimes tags along. And today, she didn't come. Perfect. I have double checked in her parents' shop.

But every answer I get from them lowers my spirit. In the end, I can only summarize her in one word. Perfect. She is so perfect. All of the people I ask from will sing a praise to her. It's almost impossible for a perfect human like her to exist. But she is, and now she could even open the vigilant yaksha's heart in the span of a month.

To clear my head and the annoying voices in my head, I make my way to the secret place I have found a few years back. Inside the forest where I first met Xiao, there is a small patch of Qingxin flower field deep inside the forest. Qingxin flower, which is said to only bloom in the highest peak, somehow can grow in that patch and only that patch. The area around it is also safe from hillicurls or slime. Xiao said he never detected any malicious intent around the small field. Thus, that area became our secret spot.

Either Celestia likes to mess with me or I am just that unlucky, I met the perfect girl. She is surrounded by hillicurls. I frowned, I materialized my weapon and took a step.

'Why don't you just leave her alone. She is powerless. If the Hillicurls get her killed, then no one will be with your precious Xiao again. You can have him all by yourself.' The sickly sweet voice is tempting me with that.

I stop dead in my tracks. Indeed, If she is dead, then Xiao will have no one but me. It will be just the two of us again. I take a step back and turn myself.

'Good. This is what you should do.' The voice cooed.

"Kyaaa!!"

I grit my teeth and spring back to act. I rush to the group of hillicurls, which fortunately just 3 of them. I swipe their feet using my polearm. "Run!" I barked at her. She flinches at my harsh glare and voice, but finally starts running.

I quickly engaged with 3 hillicurls. I am not a pro, but Xiao taught me enough to defend myself. I panted after I finished the last hillicurls. I am just glad I didn't get any deep injury. "Kikiki!" A small fireball flew past me.

I cursed my luck. A pyro abyss mage is waving his staff and 3 small monster heads are firing flamethrowers at me. I barely dodge it. "Kikiki!" Then another cyro abyss mage comes out.

I gulp. This place might be my grave after all.

*3rd POV*

Yue Mei is just picking herbs by herself. She giggles at the thought of the famous vigilant yaksha literally swept by her feet in their first meeting. She fell in love at the first sight. She glanced at a charm on her neck. She is really grateful for this charm. She made a wish a year ago in an adepti abode. And that adeptus gave her this charm. She is told to wear this everyday, everywhere she goes. This charm will help her.

True to his word, after she had worn this charm. Everyone has become nicer. They gave her a lot of free stuff and some even started to court her. She was shy at first, the attention she got was really overwhelming. But, she already has an ideal man. A man who is strong and handsome. And her ideal man turned out to be Adeptus Xiao.

She blushes again remembering him. Their last meeting ends up with Adeptus Xiao tucked her hair back to her ear. This intimate gesture is really making her happy. Soon, she will confess to him soon. And they will become a couple.

But, her daydream is short lived. A group of hillicurls suddenly appear and surround her. Fear gripped her entire being. "A...ade...adept…" She is too afraid to even call the yaksha. One of the hillucurls raises its club high. "Don….'t… Kyaaaa!!!!" She let out a blood curdling scream as she closed her eyes.

But the pain didn't come. When she opened her eyes she saw the hillicurls on the ground and a girl wielding a polearm glared at her with such hostility. "Run!" She barked at her. Yue Mei flinches at her harsh tone. But her feet finally gained their freedom as she ran away to the direction of Wangshu inn.

Her feet are tired and trembling. She collapses on her knees. "Adeptus Xiao." She whimpered. A familiar breeze whirled, and Xiao came. Looking at the trembling form, Xiao frowns, "What happened?" He kneeled in front of her.

"Hi...Hillicurls…" She managed to stutter.

He hisses, knowing those monsters targeted someone under his protection. "Where are they?"

"There…" She pointed to a direction. "A girl...wielding...polearm...is...holding them...off…" She said shakily. The entire time she clutched her charm.

"A girl… wielding polearm…" His eyes widened. A girl wielding a polearm. The only one that comes to his mind is "[Your Name]..." He whispered. Somehow his mind becomes clear, as if the fog in his mind has been blown away. Xiao quickly summons his own spear.

"Don't!!!" Yue Mei quickly grabbed his hand. "Don't...leave...me alone." Tears streamed down her eyes, making her look so pitiful. This usually invokes some kind of protective instinct from the opposite gender. But, unfortunately for her. She is dealing with this the one and only Conqueror of Demons. Now the spell has been broken, he is not as nice as previous him except to a certain mortal.

"Release me!" He growled as he glared at her, more specifically at her charm.

She flinches at his harsh tone and glare. She stares at him wide eyed. He never used this kind of tone with her, not even on their first meeting. Her hands loosen up. And Xiao quickly disappears from her, leaving her all alone.

Xiao rushes to the direction that the girl pointed to. His mind is racing with what ifs. He finally arrived, but [Your Name] is not on sight. There are only 3 dead bodies of Hillicurls. He calms down a bit. She can handle herself just fine if it's only 3 Hillicurls. But, when he observed more carefully once again, his blood ran cold. Not far from him, a puddle of red blood is spotted, along with two dead abyss mages.

His heart thumped loudly, looking at the trail of blood moving to a certain direction. To the direction he is so familiar. His mind starts racing with a really unpleasant outcome.

"~~~♪ ~~~ ♪" The wind brought a familiar tune.

"...Xiao...where are you…?" He heard it. Her voice. But her voice is so weak, like she will disappear forever. Xiao has never rushed this fast. Right now in his mind, there's only she has to be alright.

*1st Pov*

"Hah...haah…" I panted as I stabbed my polearm to the ground, using it to stabilize my body. The puddle of blood on the ground beneath me is proof it's too late for me. 'If I were to die… At least let me choose the place.' With that in mind, I dragged my feet to our secret spot no, my grave. The small patch of Qingxin flowers.

I drop my body in the middle of the patch, hissing from the pain. But the smell of Qingxin is calming me down. It feels like Xiao is with me.

"~~~♪ ~~~ ♪" with my shaky voice, I started humming a tune. This song is passed down from generation to generation in our house. Apparently this song is some kind of a prayer back in the ancient times. My eyes are blurry now being soaked by blood. "...Xiao...where are you…?" I couldn't see anymore. I reach out my hand, hoping he will grab it. Then a miracle happened. I can see Xiao grabs my hand and pulls me up. I can feel the pain has started to dull and then disappeared, I feel so light, so free. I can see him clearly. Hand in hand the two of us wander to wherever we desire.

"Thank you for coming." I smiled.

#Xiao x reader #Angst #Genshin Xiao #genshin x reader

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imxeracus · 4 years ago

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From Now On

Ok y’all, this is super long hahahahha I’m so sorry. Happy Gruvia Week 2021!! Here’s my contribution and I’m sorry but I don’t think I have the time to do more but I hope you guys like it anyway. I hope its not too OOC and if FT had more romance elements I believe this would be possible. Enjoy!

--------------------------- Gray tousled his hair and fidgeted around the entrance, feeling nervous about the day when it was only about 10 o’clock in the morning. Today, he told himself that he had to make sure things went well and most of all, to not take off any of his clothes subconsciously. For an ice mage, ironically he could not seem to get himself to calm down and stay cool about this. Regarding his first official date with Juvia, that is.

The 100 Years Quest was over and as promised, he spoke to Juvia about their relationship and how he was finally good enough for her. Despite the water mage’s disagreement to his initial beliefs and reasoning, she was elated that Gray formally addressed their feelings for each other. Furthermore, he initiated that they ought to have a proper first date that weekend itself.

He clicked his tongue briefly and frowned upon himself as he began to manifest in some thoughts to keep himself together. Why are you getting all nervous for! He ponders, his hands getting a little clammy in his pockets. Aren’t you the Gray Fullbuster, who bravely puts himself out for others and save the world countless times?

”Gray-sama?”

Before he could go on any further, a cute slivery voice interrupted his train of thought. Miserably trying to keep his cool, he spun around eagerly and was met with sapphire eyes that gave off a different vibe from her usual self. The said bluenette had her locks half tied and wore an off-shoulder dress that was not too revealing, similar to her nature. Accompanied with her outfit was a pair of kitten heels, some accessories and a subtle blush adorning her cheeks.

”Juvia is sorry for making you wait.”

For the majority, her outfit is considered simple and chic but for today, Gray thought she looked really, really good. Dammit, he gulped loudly as he felt his cheeks started to blush already at the sight of her. He knew that the water user was attractive, but it was beginning to sink in that he is now calling this beautiful person his. “Ah—um—” Gray fumbled and looked away, trying his best to hide the redness. “Shall we get going?” She simply smiled, gave a small chuckle and placed her left hand gently on his right arm (as if he could take more), indicating him to proceed to their destination. On their first date, Fullbuster had planned to go and visit the aquarium—because the water reminds him of Juvia, but he is never going to admit it—which was not too far off from where they were. It was a good walking distance, and they had a nice peaceful time on the way there. Despite saying that, he was worried as it did not seem natural for the bluenette to stay silent. Especially today, he expected her to be more excited and be all over him. As they arrive at the aquarium, Gray went over to the counter and bought a pair of tickets and made his way back to the front, where Juvia was waiting for him. As he carefully observed the water mage from a distance, he could see that she was looking down with an expression he could not seem to grasp. ”Juvia.” Surprised, she looked up hastily to see Gray back by her side. ”Is everything alright?” ”Juvia’s fine!” She exclaimed, quick to lighten up the mood. “She’s just... a little excited—as in, we’ve never done this before—but Juvia’s really happy!” She glanced at him timidly. “Also, Gray-sama looks dashing today.” For once with the determination of not stripping everything off, the ice mage did make the effort to dress well in a brown coat paired with a t-shirt and jeans. Albeit reddening slightly at her remark, he was more concerned on the fact she seemed to not be telling the truth. Here he was, blessed to have her despite all those years of constantly avoiding her advances—and now, when she is distressed, she was still keeping herself together to not worry him. His gaze soften as the guilt was slowly crept up inside him. Despite that, the said man tried to push the matter aside for the time being and wanted to make sure the day goes well. As of now, he knew that he needed to push himself more and step up his game. Once again, her eyes met with his onyx ones as he spoke quickly. “You.. you look good, too.” Juvia’s pupils dilated while Gray blushed furiously, frowning at how embarrassed he was over such a simple statement. It was a start, at least. He also noted on how she seemed to be elated from it. Before she could ask anything else, he took her hand in his and brought them into the aquarium. He could tell people were staring as the both of them were rather known after all they have done in Fiore, but screw it. Gray decided that it was not going to get in the way of his pride today if it could. Thankfully, the ice mage started to loosen up as Juvia gleefully looked at all the sea creatures that were present. When her beloved mentioned about this place, she gladly agreed because this place was known for breeding imported fishes outside of Fiore. The water woman, being part of the sea and occasionally swimming in it, found joy learning the names and characteristics of the animals she meets in the ocean. “So these are angelfishes!” she exclaimed to Gray, as she lightly tapped on his shoulder while pointing at the said creature. “Juvia always sees them if she takes a dive into the ocean.” “Hmm,” Gray mused, acting disinterested. “What else do you normally see?” "Juvia’s seen all of these underwater because in this tank, all of them are common sea fishes.” “Isn’t that a bore?” The ice mage rolled his eyes. “We should go see something you don’t normally see—that’s what this place is for.” He smoothly took her hand in his and brought her along. Meanwhile, Juvia lightly blushes as she realised that this incident—Gray initiating the hand holding—has been happening a few times already. Every time she releases his grasp to point or walk towards a destination, the brunet would eventually put them back together again. She glanced at Gray who seemed to pay no mind to the matter as they visited the different tanks and places of the aquarium. Indeed, the bluenette was not complaining but a little taken aback. Is this suppose to be normal? She thought, as her imagination continued to spiral on. The smooth and sly Gray-sama was taking a little too much for her to handle—even from before! Eventually, her legs gave way and she started to lose her balance. Quickly, she placed her hand on the wall for balance which caused her footsteps to come to a halt and the ice mage to notice her situation. “Juvia!” He held her arms by the sides and shook her slightly in worry. “I’m right earlier, aren’t I? You really weren’t feeling good?” “Gray-sama...” He raised a brow in question. “Yes?” Juvia took a quick glance back at him before she burst into tears. “Gray-sama is too gentlemanly and sly today!” She wailed, half in distress and in joy. “First, he chooses to dress up and pick Juvia up at her place. Secondly, he complimented her outfit she took hours to decide and still felt it wasn’t good enough!” “Lastly, Juvia didn’t want to bother him and occasionally walks on her own, but Gray-sama keeps coming back, holding her hands gently and she’s too happy that she can’t walk straight anymore!” Full of emotions, she tried to control her tears as she quickly wiped some of it away. “Juvia’s not used to it Gray-sama. You’re being too nice and cool!” At this he flushed hard, did he really hold her hand so often? “Oi!” He panicked, his cheeks continue to redden in embarrassment at her bold statements of him. “D-don’t make sure a big deal out of it. I mean—like—just calm down!” With her loud voice, the people nearby saw and heard the context of the incident and lightly chuckled in amusement which caused Gray to be conscious with their surroundings and it made him uncomfortable. He quickly took her to an area with minimal crowd and dimmed lights to spare them from all the attention. He sat Juvia down on the nearby bench in hopes to calm her down as she sniffed softly. The ice mage took a moment to stare at the bluenette who was being all worked up earlier on. Gray’s eyebrows furrowed as he run his hand through his hair in exasperation before he sat down next to her. “Here,” A cold can drink grazed upon Juvia’s cheek gently. “Drink this.” She took it with gratitude and managed a few sips, a troubled look appearing on her features as she noticed her beloved looking away—clearly upset. The water mage frowned and looked down, tightening her hold on the can drink as she quickly apologises. “Juvia is sorry, Gray-sama. She should’ve known better than to embarrass Gray-sama in public,” Surprised at herself, she started to fumble. “Gray-sama doesn’t like attention and Juvia failed to see it. Juvia shouldn’t have been so swamped at her own giddiness, Juvia was too–” “Stop it,” Gray clicked his tongue in annoyance, his bangs covering his eyes. “You make me sound like a terrible boyfriend.” “Juvia didn’t mean—eh?” It took a moment before she realised what Gray has declared and took a small peak at him. “Did Gray-sama just say ‘boyfriend’?” “Aren’t I?” “Juvia didn’t expect you to say that out...” He scratched his neck nervously, his eyes looking away. “I mean.. I promised you didn’t I? I’m going to become a man good enough for you. If I can’t even say that out, I’m worse than flamebrain.” As much as she was feeling touched, she couldn’t help but worry. “Juvia doesn’t want to force you to change, Gray-sama.” “I’m not forcing myself.” “But Gray-sama kept forcing himself to make sure that we held hands—” “Because I wanted to!” Pupils dilated once again as she was struck with confusion. Fullbuster, flushed and embarrassed at what he just blurted out, grew annoyed at her denseness and tousled his hair once more before speaking up. “Dammit woman, why are you making me say all these sappy shit...” “Look,” He sighed before looking back at her once again, determined. “Every time we hold hands, I always try to play it cool but damn—it’s stupid to say this as a grown man but I get so nervous and happy about it. I kept wanting you close to me....” Gray felt annoyed at his frenzied heart as he continued to speak his feelings aloud. “I really want to be better for you, Juvia. I don’t want you to always make it easy for me. I want to return the favour back as much as I can.” Before he went on, the ice mage narrowed his eyes in dismay and looked away as he gripped his knuckles tightly. “But this whole time, I kept making you cry and get upset. Even now, I don’t even know how to make you feel better when you’re always here for me previously. Instead, I chose to take us somewhere else and frown about it because I was a coward.... I’m sorry.” The ice mage mumbled at the end of his sentence, but Juvia could make out his words anytime. It was funny, really. All her life, the water mage was contented on loving him without expecting anything much back. Now, when it was becoming a reality, Juvia’s heart swelled. For once, her mind went blank on how to express these thoughts aloud. Loving Gray has been wonderful, but being loved back by him now was even better than she could ever imagined. She placed a hand on his cheek in efforts to cheer him up and as he turned back—in his opinion, Gray was greeted with the most alluring smile he has ever seen. “Thank you for trying so hard, Gray-sama.” She spoke in the most loving voice she could muster. “Juvia loves you very much.” In that moment, his gaze softened as he swiftly took away her hand that was on his face into his own, lacing them together. Tightening his hold on her said hand, Gray took her cheek in with his other free palm. The ice mage took a good look at her before he slowly leaned in. He heard Juvia uttered something out of confusion, but he paid no mind to it. Because in that moment, all he could think of was how much he adored her kindness, love and patience. In the dim lighting and quiet section of the aquarium, his lips met hers in a chaste kiss as response to her statement earlier on. Frankly, the ice mage did not know what to say either as he nervously pulled away to check on her reaction. When his eyes slowly opened and met with hers, Gray could not help but smile back at his girl whose cheeks were now flushed in surprise. He let out a slight chuckle and squeezed her hand lovingly as he could tell that the water mage was clearly still processing the kiss. It was embarrassing, he admitted, but he did not regret doing so. He had nothing to hide anyways. “Shall we continue on with our date?”

After all, Juvia was his to keep from now on.

#gruvia #fairy tail #gray fullbuster #juvia lockser #gruvia week #I hope it's okay ><#by imxeracus #gruvia fanfic #gruvia drabble

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beautifulterriblequeen · 3 years ago

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B2:S - Chapter 5

Much of this series will be about the differences and additions in the novel version, and how they contribute to my understanding of story canon. But there will be character appreciation, the odd theory and headcanon, and suchlike as well.

Here be lots of Viren deets, Best Boy Soren deets, some writing/continuity stuff, worldbuilding appreciation and half of a theory, Detective Rayla, Moon Temple geeking, Claudium and dark magic, and more!

Spoilers for Book Two: Sky below.

(I know for darn sure that I wrote up a post for chapter 4, but I can't find it anywhere so I guess Tumblr ate it and I'll have to redo it at some point, but today is not that day)

Viren, my evil dude, my bad guy, coming in clutch with the worldbuilding and backstory again! If you want to know decades of information, you gotta talk to Viren. Or read his scenes, at least. Here, he seems to not sleep much when he has a big problem to analyze his way through. Solutions trump pretty much everything else in this guy's life, and he's had a really hard week with a lot of new and complicated problems. Of course he's getting sleep-deprived trying to find his way through them all.

Harrow put so much trust in Viren when he made him High Mage! He just threw himself extra hard at that Lady Justice blindfold, didn't he? Didn't really want to see what Viren was doing in his magic study, so he left Viren to his devices. And Viren has a lot of devices.

Also, this is fascinating: Viren made the secret passage to his "less official study" in Katolis Castle! And he was inspired to do so by the way his own mentor kept the Puzzle House. What else could a Puzzle House be, except a place with secret passages? Yay! secret headcanon that "the Puzzle House" is just "Katolis Castle" from Kid Viren's perspective tho

So either Viren built all of those passageways, or at least the ones to his dungeon. Which means he has to have, or know where to get, a stash of those glowing blue Moonshadow crystals. Hmmm.

I can't wait to learn more about Kpp'Ar and young Viren, btw. From this description of Viren and all his literal secret ways, it feels like another parallel between Viren and Runaan, with the whole "secretive paths, members only, insider knowledge" type stuff. Only the really cool members of this cult club get to know the secrets, and guess what, kid, you're cool now but you can never tell anyone, okay? Our secret.

Yeahhh, that'll never backfire in any way for either of them.

Kpp'Ar calling puzzles and secrets "man-made magic," though. Yes sir, knowledge is indeed power.

This chapter mentions Runaan by name, from Viren's perspective. Generally that would imply that Viren knows his name, even though assassins do not share their names, and Runaan didn't seem to give his to Viren in the first book. However, there was a scene in book one where the last paragraph switched perspective from Viren to Runaan - a technique that's very common in visual media like movies and shows and gives you that "ohoho they left the room and didn't notice this, but you do!" vibe. Using Runaan's name there in book one, where Viren couldn't see it but readers could, helps them keep track of the assassin's story arc while maintaining Viren's racism.

So in book two, in which Runaan has no onscreen scenes (alas), using his name in a scene that calls back to the events in book one helps us remember what happened in that dungeon cell. It would be a bit muddier to recall the specifics if Viren kept thinking about Runaan as "Elf." So I'm cool with the perspective nudge because it serves a narrative purpose: clarity. But I'm also enjoying the angst of considering that, somehow, Viren learned Runaan's name either during or after the coining spell. Mwa ha ha haaa. (Obligatory "Keep my pretty name outta your mouth" goes here)

Okay, back to Viren's scheming! He took the mirror because it was human-sized in a dragon lair. He knew it didn't really fit there, and that made it interesting, so he stole it. But he realized it was really powerful when Runaan wouldn't tell him squat about it - the assassin's instinct to protect Xadian secrets from human hands meant that Viren was holding a very powerful Xadian secret. And that just made him want it all the more. Ah, Runaan, if only your relationship with lying was, like, the exact opposite of what it is. Nyx could've spun Viren a believable tale in 2 minutes flat.

Also of interest: Viren considers his cursed coins to be a final fate. He expects Runaan to remain in his coin forever. With the Chekhov's coins still extant in the storyline, we can assume that they'll come up again eventually, but Viren has no current plans to do anything with his elf money except carry it around.

It's worth noting that Viren admits that he got impatient when he trapped Runaan in the coin. Runaan's first fate in Katolis was supposed to be death at Soren's hands, but Claudia "saved" him from that. His next fate was to become spell components, but Viren's frustration with his stubbornness "saved" him from that fate, too. So now he's in a coin, where no one can chop him up at all. Yay? No, boo!

We get one last line about Runaan before Viren shifts gears: he makes a point of noting for us that Runaan's shackles are still locked shut. However much of Runaan made it into that coin - body, soul, hair care products - he was magicked there, pulled right out of his restraints.

The creepy black liquid that Viren pours right into his eyes is the last of a powerful potion he got from Kpp'Ar, and its recipe is ancient! Humans used it back in the age of Elarion to see through the illusions of the world. And we get a delightfully creepy bit of description about the preparation of this serum, which makes it abundantly clear that it's a Moon magic-based concoction, harvested from eyeless vipers on a moonless night, with the threat of irrevocable madness ("madness" by whose definition, though) if it's done wrong-

Hang on. Hold up. This is a Plato's Cave reference. OH MY GOD.

No no I'm fine, this is brilliant. Sorry, sorry, I couldn't figure why there was so much description for a potion prep that Viren didn't even have to perform himself. But now I get it. I see the light. HA. I should make a separate post for this, it's amazing.

Anyway, for reference, the humans who used this serum were called the Oracles of Ophidia, and Ophidia is a taxonomy group that includes all modern snakes. Can you say "creepy ancient snake rites"? I can! Woo!

Viren activates the serum with a spell, but apparently he's never done it before. He's not sure if it's supposed to be hot and bubbly, and he worries that it's been tainted by moonlight.

Oh, I do hope so.

The magic potion hurts, a lot. Viren will do just about anything, to himself or anyone, to do what he believes is necessary. He just risked madness and blindness to find out what this mirror does! Viren. Can you just. Take a nap or something. Have a Snickers.

This chapter gives us a fun clue that I don't remember from the show: when Viren's vision clears and he can see, his reflection has white pupils and the room reflected in the mirror has inverted colors. You know where else has inverted colors?

You know who else got white pupils for a hot second?

Okay, now it makes sense! Viren and Lujanne were both seeing into the realm beyond life and death. Him with his moon magic potion, and her with her moon powers on a full moon night at the Moon Nexus. Which is Very Interesting! Is it a direct hint about Aaravos's location, or just a separate cool detail? Orrr, does it look like a direct hint because Aaravos is actually trapped in the world beyond life and death, but it's actually separate and we'll see something about white pupils again later on?

Viren really does have self-esteem issues, we all picked up on it with his rant at his reflection. He throws a fit when he catches himself wondering if he's actually worthless. In the book version of his tantrum, he shoves the mirror and hurls a candelabra instead of flipping a table. He didn't need to shove the mirror to set the fire, but it's in here. Foreshadowing that perhaps, if push comes to shove, Viren will choose himself over Aaravos? Giving Aaravos time to peek through and see that the coast is clear?

Soren, my boyyyyy. He has a rough night at the Moon Nexus because two sides of him are fighting with each other. He struggles to understand Callum's friendship with Rayla, and he also fantasizes about chopping off Rayla's head. One of these is a pretty ordinary thing to do. The other is Soren's internalization of what he needs to do to gain his father's approval. If he brought his dad a chopped off elf head every week, he'd probably feel a lot more confident because Viren would praise him a lot more.

Okay, okay, omg, is it just me, or does the "Moonshadow Madness" story, as it's told in the book, seem like Soren just doesn't know what a monsterfucker is? He thinks an elf bite puts humans under a spell. But vampires are sexy, and some people want them to do more to them than just bite them. A passionate kiss under the moonlight could look very bitey, especially if one of the participants has horns and you're already culturally trained to hate them. No yeah, I'm already headcanoning an actual human-elf kiss that got misunderstood by an observer long ago.

it's Lujanne isn't it, we all know, because what is a love spell but a sweet soft illusion, I mean how else does she get supplies for her Caldera, I ask you, and also Corvus was totally sent to investigate once and he told Soren at camp what he saw

And then back to magefam angst: Soren pretending that his sister's nose-tapping is stupid, even though he actually thinks it's cool, just because their dad thinks it's stupid. Viren, istg. Let your kids like harmless things. It's so cute that Soren taps his nose back at her, though! Like they have their own sibling code. I hope we get to see the nose tap again, especially now that they've chosen different sides. It could mean so much, that they're not too far apart yet.

Rayla knows what buttery pancakes smell like. I love this. Do Moonshadow elves have butter and pancakes, does Rayla eat a stack of eight giant pancakes in the morning? Orrrr it is just illusion food? I don't care, let Rayla have pancakes! Everyone loves pancakes. Pancakes will save the world. this message brought to you by the fact that I can't eat pancakes rn, send help

I love that Rayla is both sus of the pancakes and hungry, and that combines into a very motivated "I will get to the bottom of this" attitude. She kind of goes into Poirot Mode when she inserts herself into Soren and Ellis's conversation about Ava, explaining about the wolf's illusion leg and segueing into her claim that the pancakes taste sus. Claudia confirms she used dark magic, and Rayla is furious. It's different than the show's version in that it puts Rayla in detective mode, as the only Moonshadow elf in the scene, and boy does she take that role seriously. Also, she doesn't actually swallow the dark magic pancake bite. It ends up on the ground just like Lujanne's grubs from that earlier meal. These poor kids are so nutrient-starved. You guys gotta eat!!

Rayla's determination and prejudices and the fact that she super knows Harrow is dead all dovetail to make her try repeatedly to persuade Callum that Soren and Claudia are Not To Be Trusted. It's nice that the book keeps taking the time to point out that Rayla is Well Intentioned But Flawed, just like Callum and pretty much every other character in the show. No one is Right All The Time, no one Knows More Than Everyone Else.

Callum loving the sound of Claudia's unique voice is so wholesome. When you like someone, it only makes sense that you like all the things about them that they can't change - like the sound of Claudia's voice. Her choices with dark magic, not so much!

Claudia seems to have the same concerns Soren does about Callum's relationship with Rayla, but she comes out and asks him. The inherent possession implied in "your elf" is interesting, though. Elves are not people to Claudia. They're enemies who can be disassembled for the magic inside them. So maybe more like robots than living beings, if she knew what a robot was. Maybe she heard Soren's "Moonshadow Madness" story and realized he totally missed the kissing implications - but she didn't, and now she's genuinely worried that Rayla could kiss Callum under a full moon and enchant him to do her will. Good thing it's only a half moon, then!

Okay, Callum nervously making a puppet hand and then not knowing what to do with his hands and freaking out about itching and moving and pointy elbows is such a ND mood. The sudden stress of knowing that someone else is noticing your existence and maybe you're Not Existing Right, amirite? Ugh, poor Callum.

The Moon Temple! Omg it's so pretty in the description! Made to be beautiful and useful, full of knowledge but also allowing light and life inside (butterflies and vines). Lujanne, when can I move in, please? Also, it's all the more angsty because Lujanne is the only one who gets to see this beautiful place, but it has lots of chairs and shelves and tables, and it was meant to be used by lots of people. :(((

Claudia knows some of the runes on the walls. She isn't in a hurry to copy the rest of them down or anything, either. Her spellwriting is very precise, and she's a skilled mage. Her father would have made sure she was aware of the dangers of drawing sloppy runes, as much as he made her aware of the dangers of doing dark magic wrong. And the whole point of dark magic is that it's easier to learn than primal magic. Claudia supports her dad and their shared knowledge and life path. She's not gonna go nuts over an elf library she can't translate.

Side note: Between Claudia knowing some Moon runes and Viren building a secret passageway and a dungeon and lighting it with the same blue crystals that Lujanne and Ethari use for light--and Claudia exclaiming that she loves ruins--I wonder once more if there are really Moonshadow ruins somewhere in Katolis, which Viren has found and looted. Father-daughter relic hunting trip, maybe while Soren is away at camp? Omgsh that would be so wild!

Callum out here having a Viren moment with his "I feel powerless unless I've got magic that lets me help" vibes. God. I love their complicated mirroring. One of the hard differences between them is that Callum is very sure dark magic is bad because you have to kill stuff and take its power to cast spells, and he doesn't want to be a person who kills and takes like that. The line he walks to be nice to Claudia on their tour of the Cursed Caldera because he likes her, while telling her that he doesn't want to do her magic, like, ever, is so fine that it might as well be a shifting shadow on the ground. It's a very fitting conversation to be having during the half moon, with its tricks and little white lies.

Callum being out of the castle and his comfort zone, having to deal with the fact that the Claudia he loves is not quite the Claudia who's chasing him down across the kingdom, but of the two of them, he's the only one with a problem with this.

They say that if you really want to get to know someone, you should spend time with them outside their comfort zone - in heavy traffic, with a small baby, taking care of a new pet, trying a new skill, following unfamiliar directions, etc. While the castle is familiar territory for them both, Callum's never really found his comfort zone yet, while Claudia is pretty comfortable with her growing skill set. The creepy part starts to kick in when Callum begins to realize that Claudia's comfort zone encompasses a whole bunch of stuff that seems like it should make her uncomfortable... but it doesn't. But that'll be for a future chapter!

#book two: sky spoilers #book two: sky #b2:s #tdp spoilers #viren #harrow #rayla #runaan #callum #claudia #soren #lujanne #moonshadow elves #aaravos

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seventfics · 3 years ago

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Blind Owl

Written for @witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

Prompt: Temporary or permanent blindness Relationships: Triss Merigold/Philippa Eilhart Rating: M Content Warnings: None (Mild Gore, Blood and Injury) Summary: It's hard, but Triss finds a way to help Philippa.

Read on AO3

* * *

“Philippa.”

At the mention of her name the sorceress turns, her head held high. Too high, Triss notes, to be facing her directly.

The edges of the blindfold over Philippa’s eyes are stained red.

“Triss. I must say, of all the things that have happened today? I didn’t expect to meet you.”

Triss quirks a smile at her. “Disappointed?”

“No, never,” she says with a graceful wave of her dirtied hand. “Surprised. I overheard that all the mages had dipped from Novigrad. I should have known you would stay behind.”

“I wasn’t going to, to be honest. Geralt convinced me.”

“Yes, he’s good at that, isn’t he?”

Triss’ portal had taken them from Sigi Reuven’s bathhouse to her small room at the Rosemary and Thyme. It’s not her room, really, but a kindness of Geralt’s friends, and one she immediately took up. Better than the Bits, where she lived in tight quarters on a lopsided building. Now she has actual furniture she picked herself, a full bed that can support her weight without sinking, and a lock on her door. It is much more to her liking.

Philippa would hate her decor, if she could see it. They’ve always had different taste in furniture.

“Circumstances aside…I’m glad you’re with us, Phil.”

Philippa hums. She walks the room carefully, a hand tense with magic held forward to sense for objects. “And what are the circumstances, exactly?”

From her pocket, Triss brings out an agate.

“Geralt stumbled upon this, some time ago.” The stone glimmers from old traces of Philippa’s magic. “You want the Lodge back together. Well, so do we.”

“Ah. Our interests align.”

Though she is blind, Philippa props herself neatly on the lone bed’s edge as Triss explains the looming threat of the Wild Hunt. In all things she is flawless artistry. Her hands cross over a hip, as she lifts her legs to lounge over Triss’ bed—and oh, how familiar, the sight of her like that. It distracts her mid-speech more than once.

“In my state,” she drawls, gesturing to her blindfold, “I am not much help.”

Triss is less artful, but just as coquette with her lilting voice. “You are, Philippa,” and more seriously, she adds, “You were the best of us.”

“Quite. You understand that this is a matter most crucial for the survival of magic.”

After a moment’s pause, Philippa sits upright against the half a dozen pillows Triss hoards at the back. She presses a hand to her temples, sighing as if displeased by something.

It is the closest sign she’s going to give to her exhaustion. Her pain.

Triss’ heart aches to help. But Philippa is proud. She is strong on her own, and protective of that right. She would not accept an ounce of pity nor mercy, no matter how well-intended.

Years of her acquaintance have taught Triss how to work around that.

“We need you at your best. Phil,” she says, sitting by the weary sorceress to take one of her hands between her own.

Philippa tilts her head up then. Again, too high, and slightly left of Triss’ ear.

“Tell me what I can do.”

* * *

The wet stones under her fingertips harbor the cells of Philippa’s experiment. It’s grotesque, she knows. Some sections have grown beyond control, eye-masses with mutated pupils, multiple irises, some even larger than a megascope’s crystal. But as Philippa does her best rebuilding the Lodge, reforming allyships, and planning the Wild Hunt’s defeat, Triss must do this unpleasant work. For Philippa.

She nearly slips and falls down to her doom twice. The stones are at such a precarious altitude, at a precise distance from the cavern waterfall to promote cell growth without washing off the results. What was Philippa thinking? Growing eyes in such a dangerous place?

But here she is, carefully extracting the cells from the stone with her magic. She suspends them in a sterile magic seal, to store in her purse. For some reason, that makes her laugh, a sound that echoes back to her ears three times. She has Philippa’s eyes in her bag. Philippa’s beautiful eyes that had been gouged out by an angry and paranoid king. The amber of them is now indistinguishable from moss.

There is no time to rest between quests, and yet, once she is finished gathering the most that she can, Triss climbs to safer ground on shaky hands and knees, needing a second to breathe. Just a second. She cannot spare more than that to mourn, or cry, or remember how Phil used to tease her with just a stare and a raised brow.

It will be fine.

She will have new eyes. They won’t be the same, but Philippa won’t care. It’s just Triss who needs a second.

Back when they were a powerful Lodge of Sorceresses, and not the tattered survivors of imprisonment and war, Triss had mooned over the proud advisor to the crown of Redania. She didn’t make her attention obvious, but nothing goes under Philippa’s notice. The woman had made herself friends among spies and, like in all things, absorbed some of their skills.

They spent many nights in each other’s company. Sometimes, it was just to forget the cruelty of war, the greedy men who broke what they could not claim. Triss was lucky to be considered important. A sorceress has more worth as a power to be wielded than a woman to be abused.

And after the Battle on Sodden Hill, Triss had little trust in men.

Maybe that’s why she started this...liaison. And maybe it had been a shallow, poor excuse at first, but. Somewhere between disillusionment and distraction, her heart stole away in the owl’s nest of Philippa’s making.

“Do you think one day we could be happy?”

With a single candle to illuminate the room, Triss braves the words. This world is not made for them to find happiness, but they are powerful. They could make it so.

Philippa doesn’t move from her limp, careless spread over silk red sheets. The dim firelight paints her skin bronze. Nothing covers her, and it is beautiful.

“Happiness has never been my dream,” she says, her back to Triss. “My vision remains on the future of the Northern Kingdoms and the conservation of magic. A sorceress’ dream.”

That is Philippa. Sturdy. Focused. Her hedonist streak is a sparse creature, easily ignored.

Still, Triss hopes. That is who she is.

A long pause ebbs the nervousness buried in Triss’ chest. No one disturbs them, which is rare. No megascope call. No xenovox. No letter from either of the kings they serve.

Triss nearly dozes off, warm and content with things, when she hears a quiet, “Do you see me, in your dream of peace and leisure?”

“I do.”

She opens her eyes to the jostle of movement. Philippa has finally turned around to stare at her, her dark hair a wild fan over her shoulders and breast.

“Perhaps,” she says as she brings up fingers to play with the loose fire-red strands over Triss’ ear, “perhaps one of us should keep that possibility in our mind.”

* * *

“Ah, you’ve returned.”

The surprise lilt in Philippa’s voice tells her that she did not expect Triss so soon. She understood the hard undertaking of retrieving her growing eye cells from the deepest caves of her most secret hideout.

But where Philippa is clever, Triss is eager. Of course she would go as quickly as possible. The Wild Hunt does not wait. The witch hunters of Novigrad will not cease their chase. There is no time to be dallying.

“Well darling, hand them here," Philippa starts, her palms opened to receive Triss' hard-earned work, "so I can get to the matter of fusing them in.”

“Let me.”

She pauses at the plea. If she had eyes, Triss imagines she would have blinked.

But it’s only a short lapse in time, her mind running through a million scenarios.

Eventually, she nods, deeming the offer acceptable. “If you insist. But do not take too long, I hear our brave witcher is to return soon with our esteemed Cirilla, and I have much to talk with her about the future of our Lodge.”

Slowly, Philippa undoes her blindfold, unknowingly as Triss goes to kneel in front of her.

She does flinch at the sight. It is a nasty healing wound, dark and sunken where eyes should be. The skin around the sockets is black. But her own chest, glamored to hide snarled skin, bares worse scars from battle.

The cells take time to transfer from her purse, and they are not yet fully nurtured. They will have to grow into place. With Philippa’s magic to amplify sight, it would be enough to maneuver buildings and streets on her own. It is not by any means a perfect resolve.

Triss puts great care in choosing the healthiest cells. She tries not to cause too much discomfort—any sort of magical procedure that modifies the body would be painful, at the very least uncomfortable—but if it is unbearable, Philippa bears it.

When the last sliver of magic dissipates, Philippa voices a tense but honest, “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me.”

There, still knelt between pale thighs and gazing up at the newly-healed flesh around mossy eyes, Philippa kisses her.

A wound Triss did not know she still had in her heart opens. Fresh blood pounds through her body like a blaze set free on a forest. It burns, the kiss like a match against her lips, and the world narrows down to them, now, together after everything. Her arms cannot hold onto Phil any harder as she kisses back with all her being. All her fire and pain and love that never waned.

When they separate, Phil whispers, “Do you still see me in your dream of the future?” like a secret that should not be named in fear of shattering it.

“I do.” They don’t have time to second-guess their dreams or the choices that got them closer to achieving them. Just a second is all they can spare, to doubt.

One day, Triss hopes they can finally stop running, stop fighting, scheming, surviving, and simply be.

It will be fine.

They stay in each other’s arms, breathing each other’s air. Philippa’s fingertip lingers above Triss’ lip, almost playful in its upwards tug. This time, when Triss stands up and Phil raises her head, it feels like she is looking at her.

“Well, then we better stop this world-ending business first.”

Triss gives her a smile through her eyes.

One day.

#merihart #triss x philippa #rarepair summer bingo #myfics #tt

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the-melting-world · 4 years ago

Text

The Empress | Side A: “Everything”

Art by @markmefistov

~ In which a cheerful mage seeks the counsel of a fluffy magician…

The Trio Appearances: Kipling | Khleo | Ozy

Arcana LI appearances: Asra | Nadia | Muriel

Track Origins: “Everything” by Ben Howard

Not sure if this is the right track? The full album can be found here: The Empress

cw: none

~ 1.7k words

Ozy hoped that time spent with Nadia would clear his head, but even after they had dinner and later, their fill of each other, the grey mage still hadn’t been able to get his afternoon with Kipling out of his mind.

Ozy stared up at a ceiling quilted in sheer panels of fabric. The overlapping panels created a majestic framework, all shimmering in varying shades of fuchsia and indigo. Nadia drew the curtains closed on her circular bed before snuggling up next to Ozy.

As she settled against the pillow, the Countess noticed something somber in Ozy’s profile even in the dim light.

“Oz? Is everything all right?”

He blinked once and turned his head, his expression growing concerned. “I was distant again, wasn’t I? During… when we were…”

Nadia leaned over and gave him a reassuring kiss. “I’m not reprimanding you. I know you enjoyed yourself.”

Ozy grinned rather bashfully. “I did. Thank you for making sure of that.”

Nadia chuckled in the back of her throat. She kissed him again. “You’re welcome…” Then she drew back and said, “But there is something hanging over your head that’s making me worry. Do you want to talk about it?”

Ozy knitted his eyebrows together before exhaling defeatedly. “I keep trying to convince myself that Kip is the one holding onto too much of the past and that’s what is keeping her from progressing, but Nadia, what if it’s me?”

The Countess reached over and moved some hair out of his eyes. “Oh, Oz... look at everything you and Kipling have accomplished in such a short period. What makes you think that you’re holding either of you back?”

Ozy turned toward the ceiling again and closed his eyes. “I figured out early on how to contact the Major Arcana. They tend to give pretty good advice and sometimes I just like to sit in their realms for a change of scenery. But…”

“But what?”

Ozy opened his eyes. “I haven’t been able to locate the Sun. I know that they’re my patron. I’ve tried so many times to find them.”

Nadia was silent for a moment. And then, “What does that have to do with Kipling and Khleo?”

Ozy’s hands came to life as he wondered aloud, “What if there’s information the Sun has that I’m supposed to know? What if I haven’t done my part in locating them and it’s affecting my ability to train Kip? What if–”

Nadia gently pressed Ozy’s hands against his chest with her own. “I don’t think this is about you, Oz. At least not right now. I think it’s about Kipling.”

Ozy’s hands twitched slightly against Nadia’s. “I don’t know what to do or who to go to in order to ask for help.”

“Have you spoken to Asra?”

His hands stilled. Ozy chewed the corner of his lip. “No.”

Nadia patted his chest. “He’s very connected to the Arcana, especially his own, The Magician. Perhaps you should start with him.”

It wasn’t the answer to all of his questions, but Nadia’s suggestion made Ozy’s brain settle. The grey mage took that as a positive sign. He chose not to dwell on it anymore, lest his thoughts take him off into another cycling of what-ifs.

He thanked Nadia and got more comfortable next to her. Then he closed his eyes and waited for sleep.

The next day when Oz’mandias showed up at Asra and Kipling’s shop, it almost seemed as if Asra had been expecting him this whole time. Ozy made sure to arrive when he knew Kip would be busy with making her deliveries around the city.

After Asra let Ozy inside and the grey mage explained his concerns, the magician sighed and said, “I agree with you. The memory of Khleo is still holding Kip back. I think that Kip’s patron is the only one who can help her now.”

Ozy nodded. “Something tells me that the journey will be rough, but we have to get there. I don’t think she can do it on her own.”

“Come with me.” Asra came out from behind the front desk and started closing down the shop. When he and Ozy were outside and he was locking the door, he said, “To be honest, Ozy, I’ve been trying to get Kip an audience with the Empress for a while, but even with the help of my own patron, nothing has come from it. However, Muriel might know where we should start looking. He was the last one to give Kipling a reading.”

Asra and Ozy spent most of the walk to Muriel’s hut in silence. When they entered the woods and the sounds of the city were replaced by a deeper blanket of silence, Asra asked Ozy, “Can you tell me what Khleo was like?”

Ozy didn’t expect the magician to ask that question, but he was happy to give a little insight.

“They were quite friendly! But they would brood a lot. And from what I can tell, they haven’t changed much in that regard.”

Asra slowed down. “What do you mean, from what you can tell? You found them?”

“I did.” Ozy said with a smile.

Asra blinked. “Where? In another realm?”

Ozy shook his head, his beads chirping happily. “Nope. Khleo lives and works right here in Vesuvia. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if she and Kipling crossed paths a few times before I showed up. Only, they didn’t know it thanks to their individual experiences with memory loss.”

Asra stopped walking altogether. “Have you told Kipling about this? I feel like she would want to know.”

Ozy stopped as well. He looked over his shoulder at the magician. “Of course she would want to know. And as soon as she learns of Khleo’s whereabouts, she wouldn’t hesitate to abandon her training and instead fixate on seeking them out. Think about what a disaster that would be. Khleo’s not ready for us to intervene on their life. Kipling’s not ready to step away from her training. There are Doors and Rooms that need Kip’s attention before she can go flouncing after Khleo.”

“Ozy,” Asra sighed, “I see what you’re getting at, but I don’t know if that’s fair. Kip’s been hurting this whole time. She needs to reconnect with Khleo at some point.”

“Yes, Asra, I completely agree,” Ozy interjected. “All puzzles deserved to be unscrambled. All equations want to be solved.”

Asra’s eyes darkened. He said coldly, “Kipling is not some damn equation.”

“Timing!” Ozy barked. “It’s about the timing, Asra. That’s the puzzle here. Not my cousin.”

Asra sobered at the serious tone Ozy had taken with him.

After a moment, the grey mage offered a more gentle expression. “You’re going to have to trust me on this one. Bringing Khleo and Kipling face to face right now is not a good idea.”

Asra clenched his jaw, but decided to back off. He gestured ahead of them. “We’re here.”

As soon as Muriel opened the door for them and saw Ozy, he adopted a relatively polite, but a cautious demeanor. Asra honestly had no idea how Muriel would react to Ozy, who was naturally open and genuine, but perpetually excitable.

Asra did his best to make it very clear to Muriel that not only was Ozy Kip’s dear friend, but Nadia considered him very trustworthy. This seemed to help Muriel relax a little more in Ozy’s presence.

After Asra quickly informed Muriel of why they had come to visit, the huntsman flicked his sharp green gaze back and forth between the two magicians before leaning back on his stool and huffing, “I don’t know if there’s much I can do to help. You already know everything about the reading I gave Kip.” Still, Muriel’s gaze became thoughtful as he probed his mind for things that might be useful to Asra and Ozy.

Finally, after several minutes of silence, he said, “I don’t know if this is something that could help, but ever since Kip’s nightmares have gotten worse, her plant magic has been acting on its own accord.”

Ozy leaned forward, his hazel irises sparking with interest. “Explain. What do you mean?”

Muriel bristled slightly at his directness, but after an encouraging nod from Asra, the green-eye mage elaborated. “Wherever Kip goes on this property, she leaves behind a trail of daisies. They usually don’t sprout until a few hours later. At first I thought it was a coincidence, but I couldn’t deny it when I noticed the pattern of the flowers blooming only in the places that Kipling had visited.”

Ozy gave Muriel a little space, his gaze wandering as he processed this new information. This wasn’t news to Asra, but he hadn’t been sure if it was important enough to share with Ozy earlier.

“The daisies. Are they still there, Muriel?”

This time Muriel was not caught off guard by the directness of Ozy’s question.

He nodded. “They are.”

Once again, Ozy’s gaze locked onto his. “Show me, please.”

Soon Asra and Ozy were following Muriel out onto his garden and the forest that surrounded his hut. Ozy dropped into a crouch at the first cluster of daisies they came across.

Ozy grazed the petals with the tips of his fingers, picking up on the magical traces of permanence. The flowers were so white, they looked bleached even under the shade of the surrounding oaks.

“These look just like the daisies that sprouted when Kipling took us to Strength’s realm,” Asra noted.

Ozy heard Asra’s comment, but he didn’t speak on it. He was busy arriving at his own conclusions.

Everything, it seemed, came back around to the same point.

Khleo.

All this time, Ozy had given Kipling space when it came to the subject of their long lost friend. He was afraid to push. Afraid to take it too far.

But what if I need to take it there? Ozy wondered as he continued to brush the surface of the daisies and feel Kip’s magic buzzing under his fingertips.

As a long time scholar of grey magic, Ozy had developed his own instinct when it came to the pursuit of certain pieces of knowledge. He could acknowledge that there was time to give himself space and learn something in natural degrees.

But there were times when the information he needed would not come quietly, and Ozy would have to really push himself in order to get results.

Kipling found and opened Strength’s Door on her own. Twice.

Khleo had been the motivation behind both instances.

Based on this information, Ozy’s instincts told him that if he expected anything more from Kip going forward, he was going to have to push her in the right direction.

#arcana albums: the empress #arcana albums #the arcana #kipling the apprentice #ozy the grey mage #asra #asra alnazar #asra the arcana #nadia #nadia satrinava #nadia the arcana #the arcana fanfic #the arcana fanfiction #the arcana fic #muriel #muriel the arcana

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roseabelle21 · 4 years ago

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Sypnosis: It had been over five years since your last encounter with a certain explosive blond. Ever since then, you're happy. You felt complete, fulfilled, and contented. Going on that date with Inasa was the best decision you have ever made in your entire life, he went from being your fanboy to your future husband. Quite a story to tell if I do say so myself. Life is good. Though someone says otherwise.

Read before you proceed: That Your Love Is Gone.

Status: Edited

Tagging: @jazzylove

He stared at the white envelope before him, unfeeling. He didn't know how long he's been staring at it, maybe when he opened the mail and placed it down his table? That was well over an hour ago.

Katsuki just stared at the envelope, like it's going to explode the moment he opened it. The paper won't, but his heart just might.

Wait, is it still beating? He thought it stopped the moment he saw you two locked lips once in the coffee shop. Boy, did that sight hurt like a bitch, yet he pretended that he saw nothing and held on his mug in a bone-crushing grip. Kirishima and Denki had pointed it out to him discreetly before it exploded. He stomped out of the shop before you noticed that he was there.

The two of you had avoided each other ever since that disaster of a confession. The only communication both of you ever had was on joint missions together, and you won't even speak to the other unless necessary.

He wanted to talk to you again, but his pride and humiliation won't let him.

Selfishly, he prayed that the date with Inasa didn't go well, still hoping that he still had the chance to be with you. Or when he found out that you two are finally official, things between you won't work out in the end and go your separate ways.

That didn't happen much, to his dismay. The wedding invitation on his table said otherwise.

Katsuki knows it's wrong, waiting patiently for the day that your relationship with the whirlwind user to fuck up, and he'll be there to sweep you away from him, and maybe knock teeth or two out.

He scoffed at his thoughts. All of this was his fault. He knows it, knowing full well that he can't do anything to change the past. He even tried dating other people to get over you, alas the hunt remains fruitless. He can't look at another girl, much less be with them without thinking of you.

After all these years, he still loves you.

Pathetic.

His silent tears hit the cold floor. He didn't even bother wiping them away. His ruby eyes continued to burn holes at the letter before him. Heart pounding in his ears, he felt like he couldn't breathe, his heart aching, mind empty, wishing that he'd wake up soon and end this nightmare. Maybe even wake up with you by his side.

No matter how hard he tried to stop, his wishful thinking is always there. Even he knows that it's not healthy thinking that way about someone for so long. It's been five years, for Christ's sake! His heart needs to let you go.

But how could it? Every time he sees you, it feels like there is a fucking zoo rampaging on his stomach, every time you smile or laugh, it puts the sun to shame because of how bright and warm it is. He wished that he was still the one causing those.

Before then, he didn't need to do much to make you happy. Him being himself was all he needed to be; his sarcastic remarks and angry faces were a few of the things that put a smile on your face.

He likes being the source of your happiness until he wasn't.

Katsuki swallowed the lump on his throat, taking a deep breath before wiping his eyes. He waited for a bit of a steady, racing heart and mind before gently picking up the envelope, careful not to make even the slightest of crumple.

He could have burned his hand honestly, that's how bad it hurts. Maybe it's just his imagination, but he can smell the tiniest bit of your favourite flowers. Katsuki held the paper to his nose a gave it a smell; it has a scent.

He smirked, imagining you insisting that the paper is scented since it is a special occasion, the amount of scented paper you used for your friends at every holiday and birthday to make your cards.

Katsuki then opened it, making sure to be extra gentle when tearing it up. He stared at it again, that open flap with the letter inside. It's there, his worst nightmare.

With a heavy heart, he took it out and admired its designing and details: the swirls and flowers embroidered on the sides, the fancy calligraphy in your names, the neat print below with the details of the wedding, and the picture of you and your fiancee.

His heart clenched seeing it, yet at the same time, he felt a small glimmer of happiness that came along with it.

Your smile, it was so beautiful, so genuine, so happy.

Tears made its way down his cheeks again, and despite that, he grinned.

He's happy that you found someone that can treat you better than he can. And even if he's no longer the one making you happy, he can't do anything to stop that.

He read the invitation; although it pained him to continue reading it, he was happy that he even got an invite. Despite not talking much this past few years, he's satisfied that he still got invited.

Katsuki placed the paperback in the envelope and placed it down. He's happy for you, he is, and then, he's hit with an epiphany.

Pulling out his phone, he took a deep breath and searched his contacts, then he messaged them.

To (Y/N): Can we talk?

It's oddly peaceful.

Katsuki has attended a few weddings in his life, and from what he's experienced, all of they tend to be chaotic in one way or another.

It's either one of the family members is late, missing a tux or a dress, god forbid the annoying children running around without a care in the world whilst their mothers frantically chase them around. Now, he's not seeing any of them.

Quite the opposite. Everyone seems to be on time, have everything they need, and surprisingly, the children are cooperating. It's almost scary, almost unnatural. And it's freaking him out.

Maybe the Maid of Honor has something to do with it. She's snapping at everyone who so much makes a noise or goes out of line. Running back and forth when someone calls her for help, checking everyone's process every ten minutes. Making sure everyone is right on schedule.

Katsuki can't help but feel bad for her, dealing with so much pressure in one body can be tiring. Alas, there's nothing he can do about it. Although he finds her quite cute when angry, he knows nothing about her other than she's (Y/N)'s cousin.

The rest of the Bakusquad are chilling on a bench near the pool. Everyone already had their hair, make-up, and dressed done. Mina is talking with Jirou and Yaoyorozu, planning on their girls day with the newlywed woman soon. Kirishima and Sero are talking about their latest missions, and last but not least, Kaminari staring at the Maid of Honor with a bit of drool on the corner of his mouth.

"You look like an idiot dunce face," Kaminari jumped at Katsuki's voice," she might think you're a weirdo more than you already are if you keep staring at her like that."

"Oh shit, you're right." The blond immediately wiped his mouth and straightened his tux, fixing his hair and clearing his throat.

"Sorry, she's charming, though. Like an angry chihuahua." Jirou slapped the arm of the blond with a scowl on her face.

"Don't say that! You don't even know her." Everyone can tell her questioning look.

"You talk as if you know her Jirou," Sero inquired. The girl shrugged as she twirled her ear with a finger.

“We work to the same radio studio. She's the one who does the cover songs and news most of the time."

"No way! She's DJ Fox?!" Kirishima and Kaminari shrieked, fanboying.

"Man, that is so cool! You gotta introduce us!"

"No," Jirou replied immediately.

Before anyone could react, the girl of the subject yelled at her mage phone. Telling everyone to proceed to the church and get in line as planned.

Katsuki stood up and glanced around, hoping to catch a glimpse of you in the crowd. The door of your room opened, and his heart leapt at the throat, imagining how beautiful you would look in your wedding dress. That fuzzy feeling soon turned into a mix of rage and disappointment as the once again Maid of Honor rushed to your door and yelled at you for being impatient.

Everyone made it to the church in no time. The groom and his best man were shoving each other playfully to ease his nerves. Katsuki immediately glanced away from them, remembering his talk with you a few months ago.

Not long after they were in place, the music started playing. One by one, everyone walked down the aisle, his partner looking at him anxiously, but he couldn't care less. His mind wandered.

There you are, sitting at the corner of the cafe, looking outside with a mug of steaming hot coffee in front of you with a pastry beside it. Another pair of coffee and pastry beside it, which he assumes as his since it was his favourite.

Slowly, he and his partner stopped for a short while for the photographer before proceeding on their walking.

Small talks and laughs were made, the atmosphere between the two of you more at ease, unlike before. As happy as he looks, his heart can't help but shatter every time your ring glows in the sunlight.

The rest of the guests followed; not long after, the door shuts, and everyone stands up in their seats. The familiar music filled the air.

He apologized. Apologized again and again, and you could only give him your soft eyes and smile. Not pitying him one bit, only looking at him with fondness in your eyes as you took his hands between yours.

Inasa was crying as soon as the door opened, the light momentarily blinding your features, but when it faded, Katsuki can also feel his eyes tearing up.

"I should have told you what you meant to me," he says, voice breaking up.

Cause now I paid the price.

Words can't describe how beautiful you look walking down the aisle in the arm of your parents. A wide smile is plastered permanently on your face as you look at the man in front of you. All the love is visible in both of your eyes as you look at your significant other like they are the only person in the room.

You reached the front of the altar, your parents kissing you on both cheeks before hugging you and your crying groom.

Katsuki's heart warmed at the sight of you laughing softly at Inasa, placing your hands on his face as you wiped his tears with your thumbs. The said man is grinning at you despite the tears that continue to flow down his cheeks.

Katsuki didn't realize that his tears escaped his eyes. Had it Kirishima not point it out. He quickly wiped them away and stood up straight. The faux redhead is gently patting the blond at his back and offering him a sympathetic smile.

As Katsuki continued to observe the both of you, and he couldn't help but smile at the pure, childlike happiness on your faces. He can feel his heart slowly letting go. Letting go of his jealously, the bitterness, and the anger he has left for himself.

Though the only thing he can never let go of is his love for you. It might not be the same love he has with you before, but he is and will always love you till the end of time. He loves you enough to let you go.

Maybe in another life, he can make your stay. He never planned that one day, he'd be losing you. Now here he is, watching you get married to the love of your life.

He never imagined this, not without him there with you, but he certainly isn't regretting it.

#katsuki x you #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki angst #katsuki bakugou #katsuki x y/n #bakugou imagine #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x you #bakagou katsuki x y/n

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classysassy9791 · 4 years ago

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When a job goes terribly wrong, the Fairy Tail guild is left to pick up the pieces. Mourning the deaths of their guildmates, Lucy can't seem to find the strength to move forward. But she comes to realize one person understands. His madness was her mercy, and she finally began to hope that maybe he could make her heart beat again.

Fandom: Fairy Tail Genre: Adventure/Tragedy Warning: Character Death(s) Ch. 1 l Ch. 2 l

Chapter 3 Word Count: 3,100 Can also be found here

I give up on editing this anymore so here it is

The first thing Juvia noticed upon entering the guildhall that morning was that Gray was nowhere to be found. More often than not, he arrived earlier than she, prompting a touch of concern as to where the ice-make mage could be. He had taken a job the day before, so there was a chance he could be sleeping in after arriving home late.

The second thing she noticed was the hum of electricity among her fellow guildmates. They gathered at the tables closest to the stage, everyone murmuring amidst themselves. Knitting her brows with worry, the bluenette weaved her way over to where Wendy sat.

“Good morning, Wendy,” she greeted the young girl with a small smile. “Why is everyone so lively?”

With a drained look she offered, “Hello, Juvia,” before dropping her gaze to the floor. “I-I guess you haven’t heard yet.”

Blue eyes glanced between her and Charle, who perched beside her with a hollow expression. “Hear what?”

“Well, Team Natsu went on a mission yesterday and-”

Her heart missed a beat, terrifying worst-case scenarios coming to her mind with Gray’s absence. “Where’s Gray?” Juvia demanded anxiously. “Has he returned?”

Wendy quickly nodded, setting her panic at ease. “Yeah, he came home. He’s in the infirmary right now. I’m not sure what happened, but he and Lucy were hurt pretty bad.”

Her eyes shifted distractedly over to the hallway leading to their clinic. “Maybe Juvia should go check on him.”

“Absolutely not,” a woman interrupted before she could scamper off to his side. Porlyusica suddenly appeared with her ever present scowl. “He needs to rest. Leave him be.”

“O-Oh… Ah… right,” Juvia stammered, feeling a blush come to her cheeks. She still felt anxious, but knew better than to question the elder woman’s words. “Will he be all right?”

“He’ll be fine. He’s a stubborn fool.”

The water mage breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness.”

“Hey, you guys!” Levy called as she bounced over, Team Shadowgear hot on her heels.

“Oh, good morning,” Wendy greeted.

“What happened last night?” the solid-script mage asked, concerned lines creasing her brow as she took note of their medicinal advisor. “Jet told me he had to fetch Porlyusica.”

“Gray and Lucy were badly injured,” Juvia explained. “What happened is still unclear.”

“Cana didn’t offer an explanation either when she came to get me,” Jet said, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve never seen her so sober.”

Levy fiddled with the hem of her dress nervously, giving Wendy a questioning glance. “Is Lu okay?”

“She’ll be fine,” she affirmed with a small nod. “They both just need some rest for now.”

“What’s everyone buzzin’ about?” Gajeel questioned as he sauntered over, keeping his eyes peeled on the rest of the guildhall. “Ain’t like them this early in the morning.”

Panther Lily hopped onto the table next to Charle. “We’re usually never here this early,” he pointed out.

“Master wants to make an announcement.” Cana strolled over, her customary barrel of alcohol propped against her hip and a soft warmth blooming upon her cheeks. “It’s not good.”

“Why do you say that?” Levy asked.

“I saw Lucy and Gray come in last night. It was pretty bad.”

“You don’t think something terrible happened, do you?” Wendy fiddled with her hands anxiously.

Gajeel folded his arms over his chest. “Didn’t they go on a mission with Salamander?”

“Yeah, along with Erza and Happy.” Levy’s hazel eyes quickly scanned their gathered guildmates. “But I haven’t seen either of them all morning.”

“The Thunder Legion was sent out, too,” Cana mumbled. “This doesn’t sit well with me.”

The guildhall suddenly hushed as Makarov entered the room, climbing up onto the stage in order to be better seen and heard. Mirajane stood beside him, but her usual cheerful smile had been replaced by a deep frown. Her eyes were rimmed red and her cheeks were flushed, making it apparent to everyone that she had been crying. Levy exchanged an anxious glance with those beside her.

Their master cleared his throat, his eyes noticeably misty. “My heart is heavy today,” he began, his voice thick with tears. “I come to you not as your guild master, but as a member of the family we hold dear. Unfortunately, in this world, not everything can be fixed, no matter how much we wish it could.”

Dread had Levy’s stomach locked up tight and her teeth clenched together.

The room fell eerily silent. “Yesterday, our strongest team went on a mission to capture bandits in Freesia. But demons from the books of Zeref blindsided them.”

Levy swallowed against the hard lump in her throat. It became hard to breathe. Where was Erza, Natsu, and Happy? Why weren’t they there?

“It is with a broken heart that I tell you some of our family did not make it home alive.”

“N-No,” Levy whispered, her hands muffling the gasp that escaped as tears welled in her eyes. Loud murmurs of disbelief rang out across the guild, fear building in a frenzy as everyone turned wide eyes to their master.

He paused for a moment to reel in his emotions as Mirajane quietly broke down sobbing beside him. “Natsu, Erza, and Happy all died in battle. They were our beloved family and fought bravely to instill the protection of those we hold dear.”

The news passed through the guild like a hurricane. Levy’s mind was laid waste by it, the desolation she felt all consuming. She suddenly felt weak in the knees, falling backwards onto a bench. Cana dropped her alcohol, causing the contents to spill onto the floor. The room filled with hysterical crying, the screaming sobs molding together to form one.

“T-Tom Cat…?” she heard Charle whisper from beside her, a choked sob escaping Wendy’s lips.

Gajeel clenched his hands into fists, wide eyes staring as he tried to comprehend the master’s words. “S-Salamander? No way…”

Levy cried as if her brain was being shredded from the inside. From her mouth came a cry so raw that Gajeel bent down to pull her to his chest, running shaky fingers through her hair. She curled her hands around his shirt so she could find some gravity with her violent shaking. The whole world vanished for her. Now there was only pain enough to break her - to break them - pain enough to change them all beyond recognition.

“My children!” Makarov cried out above the noises of desolation.

The screams quieted to soft, choked sobs, as they all turned blurry vision toward him. Each of their expressions begged him to have the answers as to how this had happened… as to how they were supposed to endure such a loss.

He looked over each and every one of them, his own tears falling down his cheeks. “Y-You’re going to think that the pain will never end, but it will. That I can promise. But first, you have to let it all in. You can’t fight it; it’s bigger than you. You have to let yourself drown in it, but then, eventually, you’ll start to swim. And every single breath that you fight for will make you stronger. And I promise you, you’ll beat this! We all will!”

“How the hell did this happen?!” Macao called out angrily. “How?!”

Makarov shook his head. “I’m afraid I don’t have all the details. Thank Mavis that Gray and Lucy were both brought back home alive. They’re in the infirmary recovering thanks to Wendy and Porlyusica.”

Levy squeezed her eyes shut, listening as Gajeel mumbled incoherent phrases, as Juvia cried for a queen, and Wendy sobbed for a fellow dragon slayer. She took in everything, feeling as if a weight pressed on her chest, and she was drowning in her own tears.

Their master wiped his hand under his nose like a child. “I have postponed any job requests for the time being. With the jewels we received from the Games, I will cover all expenses until further notice. Do not break alone, my children. We are a family, and we will get through this together - as a family.”

Within the mess of emotions surrounding her, Levy repeated Makarov’s news over and over again in her mind.

Natsu… Erza… Happy… dead…

Lucy… Gray… alive…

And then her eyes opened wide.

Lucy…!

...

Lucy felt emotionally bankrupt. There was nothing left to feel, nothing left to say, nothing left but the void that enveloped her mind in swirling blackness. She peeked out from beneath her covers and looked at Gray with eyes filled with anguish. He was sitting up, his gaze trained on the window, as he had been for the past two hours.

Reluctantly, once he had woken up and questioned what had happened, she had given him the news of their friends’ deaths. He had yelled out in denial, refusing to believe her, but as she replayed their final moments out on the battlefield as Virgo and Loke appeared, reality started to set in.

Since then, he had clammed up. He had sobbed - she had never seen him so vulnerable - and then he went silent. He now stared vacantly out at the sunrise, as if searching for something.

About an hour ago, she had heard all the commotion coming from the main hall and knew the rest of the guild had been told the news. The door creaked open, catching Lucy’s attention. She glanced over her covers to see a petite young woman with blue hair peek her head in.

“Lu…?” she whispered hesitantly.

The blonde debated if she wanted to see her friend, or if she would rather pretend to be asleep so she could be left alone. Thinking better of it, she pulled the blanket off of her face. “Hey, Levy,” she replied softly.

Levy stepped over, her hands clenched in front of her as if to keep them from trembling. Her cheeks were red and blotchy from crying. “Oh, Lucy…”

Her words were so tender and full of sympathy, that Lucy felt tears welling in her eyes all over again. “He-He’s gone,” she said, her voice cracking. “They’re all gone.”

Lucy’s body began to shake with her sobs, the sound breaking free from her throat, savage and raw. Levy pushed away the covers and slid into the bed next to her. She wrapped her arms around her friend, running her fingers through her golden-spun hair, and whispered soothing words to help calm her shattered heart.

Sometime during it all, Juvia came to Gray’s bedside, reaching out a trembling hand around his own. “Gray…?” she whispered.

His only response was to pull away, ignoring her presence completely. The desolation he felt consumed him, his mind became an icy wasteland; the wind howled in his soul and wrapped icy tentacles around his heart so tightly, it almost stopped beating.

And faintly, he realized, it had begun to rain.

...

Sitting alone at the Fairy Tail guildhall, Cana took a swig from her glass and waited for the effects to kick in. She waited. And waited. But the numb feeling inside her didn’t wane.

The quiet of the guildhall made her blood run as cold as Fiore’s winters. It was as if nature conspired against her in the dark, not daring to whisper the reassurance she craved. Echoes of boisterous voices spun through her mind, of a lively guild filled with fistfights and magic.

Now, there was only silence.

It gnawed at her insides, hanging in the air like the suspended moment before falling glass shattered on the ground. Like a gaping void. It needed to be filled with sounds, words, anything.

The main door creaked open and she heard soft footsteps echo in the empty guildhall. Mirajane walked over to Cana, giving her a weak smile, barely noticeable in the dim lighting. “I thought I’d find you here.” Her blue eyes, which were usually so bright and kind, had dulled to an opaque grey. They were puffy, but her tears had finally dried up.

The card mage tilted her head in acknowledgement, taking another long gulp. “Where else is there to be?”

Humming her agreement, the eldest Strauss sibling slipped behind the bar for a glass to fill from the tap, and joined Cana in a drink. Once the news of what had happened had sunk in, everyone had dispersed to find their own way of grieving.

“I used to complain about how loud the guild was. All the fighting and the music and the people non-stop talking,” Cana said, her voice brittle as if she were about to cry. “Now, it’s too quiet. I’d give my right arm to hear Natsu start a fight or for Erza to end it, or for Happy to make another of his snarky comments.”

Blue eyes peered wistfully over the darkened guildhall, memories of their childhood revolving through her mind. Over a decade had passed since the first of them had stumbled into Fairy Tail. Even after all they had been through at such a young age, they had still been so innocent as to what lay ahead. “It’s a frightening thought, that in one fraction of a moment, everything you hold dear can be altered forever.”

Cana gripped her glass tighter. “It all just feels like a bad joke.”

“I don’t think the universe is kidding this time.” She didn’t need to voice aloud the circumstances regarding Lisanna’s death. Her body had disappeared in a glitter of golden light. This time, there was no mistake that Natsu, Erza, and Happy were gone. Mirajane took a sip of her drink thoughtfully, swirling the alcohol around in her mouth, relishing in the burn before swallowing.

Cana raised a brow suspiciously. “Since when do you drink?”

“Since I woke up yesterday and never imagined the day would end this badly.” The barmaid shrugged, silver hair a mess and her eyes sad. “I always thought there were bad days, but not in the way most people think, you know? I think… I think really bad days happen when everything seems to be going wrong, and you just want to throw your hands up in the air and give up. Because clearly, the world is out to get you.”

Tears welling in her eyes, Cana held up her glass. “To really, really bad days, then.”

They drank quietly as the shadows grew darker and it wasn’t until after nightfall that they realized something.

As it turned out, a person couldn’t drink away the silence.

...

Every breath was an implosion.

Lucy sat on the edge of the bed with no strength to move. Her shaky fingers finally came to a stop after running restlessly through her messy hair. She bit down on her lip trying not to burst into tears. It wasn’t going to help. It wouldn’t change anything.

Night had fallen, causing everyone to leave the guild. Juvia had fallen asleep in a chair, her head resting on Gray’s bed, but Lucy had persuaded Levy to go home. Brown eyes lifted to look at her teammate, lip quivering.

“Gray…?” Her voice came out in a choked whisper.

“Don’t.” The word was deliberate, and sharper than knives. He didn’t even bother to face her, instead lying on his side with his back toward her.

Lucy glanced away, feeling as if she had been slapped. She wrapped the blanket tighter around her shoulders, the events of the day leaving her feeling hollow. “You don’t get to do this,” she muttered, clenching her hands into fists.

“Don’t,” he repeated. “Just don’t. I don’t want to hear you say what I think you’re gonna say.”

Gray had woken up hours ago with the bitter taste of ash in his mouth and the grit of building caked into his skin. Somehow, before Lucy had replayed the events of the battle for him, he had known it was over. A part of him really knew. People always say they thought they would know if someone close to them had died. Maybe it was true. Because something inside him had broken on that day, and he knew it was over.

Grief felt like emptiness in his heart, a sheer of nothingness that somehow took over and held his soul, threatening to kill him entirely. It gave him this heavy feeling that was like the weight of the world sat on his chest.

He knew grief very well.

He felt it when Ur looked back at him, her body becoming the infamous iced-shell, as she gave her life for his. “I want Lyon to discover the world; Gray, you too, of course. You don’t have to be sad,” she had told him with a smile. “I’m alive. I’m eternally alive as ice. Step into the future. I’ll seal your darkness.”

He felt it when Ultear had given years of her life to give him one more minute of his, changing his fate entirely - her elderly face, tilted with lips pulled up, a shake of her head, wordlessly telling him it was okay.

And he felt it when Erza turned her back to him, scarlet hair shimmering in the fire’s glow; her armor cracked, her swords drawn. “I made a promise! I told Ultear I would look after you,” she had shouted back to him, facing the demon head-on as he lay bleeding. “And I never break a promise!” Even though by then she was already dying, she fought on. She was drenched to the core in blood and yet she fought on. She fought on until she collapsed and could fight no more. And then with the crack of bones, she was gone.

Why?!

Why did every woman he had ever learned to care for decide that his life was worth more than theirs? Why was he always the one left behind to mourn, to feel the guilt of their deaths?

It wasn’t fair, dammit!

“Please… Gray…”

Lucy’s voice drew him from his thoughts and he glanced down to see he had wrapped the sheets tight in his fist, turning his knuckles white. He closed his eyes, but she somehow knew he was listening.

“We-We have their blood on our hands… Tell me it’s going to be okay. Promise me it’s going to be alright,” she cried meekly. “Tell me we have a reason to be here when they aren’t.”

He was silent for a moment, turning his hardened gaze to the dark sky outside. “I can’t.”

She opened her mouth and then closed it again, unable to come up with any response.

#fairy tail #fairy tail fanfiction #lucy heartfilia #gray fullbuster #natsu dragneel #erza scarlet #team natsu #sassy stays classy #my fanfiction #the last of us

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writinglizards · 4 years ago

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Make me Happy

Summary: "I was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend. Make me happy, and I shall again be virtuous." - Mary Shelley's Frankenstein He is created. He is abandoned. He is found.

Read on Ao3

The first thing he knows is agony.

He feels set on fire from the inside, bright white pain arcing through his veins. He cries out, voice hoarse. The sharpness of it ceases as quickly as it came, but the ache persists.

A clatter to his left draws his attention. He shifts. Distantly, he’s aware of the scratch and shift of the rough-hewn shirt and trousers he’s dressed in, but there are larger concerns, at the moment. His limbs feel awkward but otherwise cooperative, so sits up.

There is a man across the room with his back pressed against the counter. White hair, a beard. The man’s face is drawn in an expression he can’t parse. Beneath the man’s feet are shards of glass.

He doesn't understand where he is or what's going on. He opens his mouth to speak--and finds he doesn't know the words to communicate this. He makes a quiet, wordless sound, questioning. He hopes it's enough for the man to understand. He so wants answers.

In response, the man jolts for the door.

He starts at the abrupt movement, makes another quiet noise of surprise, reaches out a hand toward him, wait, please--

The man makes a shrill noise, "Stay away, you, you--" he flings the door open after a brief scrabbling with the lock and bolts, a high pitched terrified noise leaving his throat. He throws the door closed behind him, but it hits the doorframe and bounces back, hard.

He follows because he doesn't know what else to do. The other man is scared. Should he be scared?

He lets the smell of terror, sickly and awful, lead him down a spiral staircase and out a partly concealed door onto the street where he's abruptly hit with an overwhelming wave of scents and sounds. It's too much for him to understand; all he knows is he needs to find the man again. He hopes he can help.

He sees someone, not the man from the room, on the street a few feet away. He approaches, timid. He's trying to work out how to ask what he wants to know--where did the man from the room go?--when he catches the other's attention.

"What the--what the fuck?" He doesn't understand the words, but the tone--the man spins on his heel and sprints away, terrified. It catches the attention of several people up the street. The first man was scared, but these men--help, maybe?

He takes a few slow steps in their direction, still trying to figure out how to ask what he wants to know when he catches the glint of steel. He freezes. He takes quick stock of their expressions, the naked weapons in their grips, and hesitates.

"You'll get the fuck out of here if you know what's good for you, monster." He doesn't understand, doesn't know how to respond in a way that will ease the aggression of their posture. He just wants help.

"Well? Get," one of the men shouts, rapping the flat of his blades together. It makes a harsh sound, makes him whine with how the sharp noise hurts. He ducks his head, cups his hands over his ears to try and make the hurt stop. "I said get," the man shouts again, repeats the movement of his weapons. He keens, a low, quiet sound full of pain. He doesn't understand--

"You got to the count of fucking three," another says, and he doesn't wait for them to make the noise again. He runs.

Every person he sees in his mad dash down the street and away from the pain reacts similarly. Either they flee or they bare steel and make threats, loud and angry. The mixing scents, the noises, his own fear, it's all too much. He doesn't know where he is or where he's going. He just runs.

------------------------------

By the time the sun is beginning to rise, he's finally broken out of the rows and rows of buildings and into the trees, where he runs until his lungs burn and his feet hurt before he collapses in the shade at the base of a tree. He doesn't know where he is or what's going on, doesn't understand the fear and hostility of the people he'd seen. He sits there, somewhere in the middle of the forest, and finally feels it hit him. He doesn't know, he doesn't understand. He sits and he cries, deep chest wracking sobs, until he's too tired to keep his eyes open. He curls himself up small and tight in the roots of the tree, and sleeps.

------------------------------

He's woken some indeterminate time later, to the sound of footsteps. Lots of them. The sky is going grey at the edges, so he knows he must have slept a while. There's shouting coming from the direction he came from yesterday, words he can't understand in a tone he can--they sound like the men who made the awful noise.

"If you see that fuckin beast, just kill 'em. No need to leave him loose to terrorize the city again."

“Nah, the mage wants ‘em. Said--”

“I know what he said and I’m saying just kill ‘em.”

They're not that far. He knows enough now that he doesn't want to run into these people, doesn't want a repeat of last night. He rises very quietly, and treks farther into the forest, away from the sounds of the approaching men. He'll walk all night if he has to.

------------------------------

He walks until he can't hear them any longer, and then he keeps walking, for good measure. He walks until he stumbles across another group of buildings, much smaller than the one he'd fled last night. He lingers at the edge of the trees, watching a trio of young women leaning against a wooden fence not far, talking. One of the women has something she appears to be eating in her hand, and his own stomach growls loudly in reminder that he has eaten nothing since...he doesn't know when.

These women look nothing like the men with their weapons, which is the only reason he steps out of his hiding spot in the trees, starts towards them.

"Sara, look--" one of the women catches sight of him and goes pale. She steps backward, hands shaking, and he freezes. He doesn't want them to be afraid. He only wants--

The one eating turns to look back over her shoulder and their eyes meet. She drops the thing she'd been eating. There's a shriek--the third woman--and then all three of them are running pell-mell back towards the rest of the buildings.

He tamps down on his hurt and darts forward to scoop the food off the ground--an...apple?--and then he's running again, farther into the forest. He knows better than to stick around for the angry men and their weapons.

------------------------------

He doesn't pause until he feels he's far enough away he'll be able to hear anyone coming with enough warning to escape. He settles at the base of a tree and gnaws on the apple slowly, trying to savor the small thing. It's a little better than nothing, but it reminds him he's hungry, sets his stomach to rolling uncomfortably. When he's gnawed the thing down to its core he finally sets it aside, disappointed.

He’ll have to see if he can find more food, or venture back towards the buildings to see if there’s anything he might be able to take that won’t be missed. But not tonight.

------------------------------

In the end, he ends up doing quite a bit of stealing from the village at night while he hides in the trees during the day, watching the way the people interact with one another. He feels bad about just taking, but there’s nothing much that can be done for it--there’s no easily accessible food in the forest and the people still spook and run at the sight of him.

So that’s the way he survives, for a bit. It's not a comfortable existence and he knows the people of the little town both know he's there and are upset by it. He tries not to scare them, only slips down into their fields at night, when most are asleep, only takes as much food as he needs to quell the emptiness in his stomach.

Watching the people interact with one another is helpful, though, even if he can’t approach them. The field workers do a lot of talking to one another as they work, and over time he starts to pick up what the words mean, in a roundabout kind of way. So he lingers and he watches and he hopes for...something he can't put a name to.

He's finally forced to move on when he tries to slip down into the town about three weeks later and there are men with swords again, lining the outskirts of the village. He knows enough about people at this point from what he's observed and he doesn't want problems. He moves on, just picks a direction and starts walking.

------------------------------

When he stumbles across a tiny cottage out in the woods all on its own, he assumes it must be abandoned--people don't live alone, after all. He would investigate further, but the sun is already peeking over the horizon, sky dusting pink, and he knows he needs to find somewhere to settle before daybreak.

There are several little shacks sprinkled around the clearing that he doesn’t know the purpose of so he picks one--the shack behind the cottage--to test the door and finds it unlocked. It's a storage shed and moderately well-stocked, despite how the little room seems to be on the verge of collapse. He settles to the ground on the far side of a crate and tucks himself into a tight little ball. He'll stay here today and investigate more closely tonight.

Shortly, he dozes.

------------------------------

He wakes much too soon to the sound of...something. He's never heard it before, this softly twanging noise. It's good. Nice.

He knows it must be well past mid-day from the way the light slants in through the chinks in the walls. He's just thinking it's too early to try venturing out when the singing starts, soft and lovely and he thinks, oh, It's a person.

He rises very slowly and quietly and crosses the tiny storeroom to the wall that's shared with the cottage. The music is a little louder here, and he can make out the words, a story of a knight saving a fair maiden and true love's kiss. He can understand what those words mean a bit now--language has come slowly, but he's getting better at piecing together bits and pieces from the things he's heard, although not all of it makes sense all the time. And well, some things just feel right, like he's known them all his life. Language has been a little like that, even if speaking is a challenge.

So he can follow the story, vaguely, even as the song ends and another quickly takes its place. He hears no other voices or movement in the adjoining room, just that smooth tenor singing of heroics and heartbreak. He settles down beside the wall, rests his temple against the rough wood grain, and listens.

------------------------------

He wakes again an indeterminate time later. It's late, the sun is down and the man in the cottage sounds as if he's retired for the night. It's quiet. He...probably shouldn't stay here, but it's warm and quiet and the man sings so beautifully. He borrows a small meal of hard bread from the stores and tells himself he won't be back when he slips out of the storeroom to stretch his legs.

By the time the sun rises, he's tucked back into the storeroom anyway, curled up against the wall that joins the cottage. What's one more day?

------------------------------

One day becomes two days becomes a whole week. He's reluctant to leave the security of the little storeroom, the pleasant singing. A few days in, he finds a chink in the wall that lets him see into the cottage room and he now spends his daylight hours pressed to that wall, watching, listening. The man is...beautiful. He looks like they would be of a height, even if the man is a little leaner than he himself is. Despite that, the man is still broad-shouldered and strong looking, with brilliant blue eyes and a sweep of brown hair he can only think of as pretty. And he can tell the man is not just beautiful; he’s also intelligent, witty. He talks to himself constantly, sings, reads, dances his way around the room. The man moves through life as if he has not a care in the world. He wants so badly to be a part of that.

Despite how much he yearns to join the man, he still won't reveal himself, too afraid of the potential reaction to him. He finds himself growing attached, despite how much he shouldn’t. If this soft and delightful man is as afraid as the village people were, it will break him.

So he watches and he dreams and he tries to help around the cottage, at night. It starts with some chopped wood when the woodpile gets a little too low, which the man reacts to with delighted confusion. Then it's a few rabbits and other small animals, here and there, to replenish some of the food stores he's been dipping into to feed himself.

"Well, looks like we've got ourselves an admirer," the man says softly the morning he finds the first rabbit. He'd been...nervous about leaving the little thing. Nervous it might upset or scare the man. Instead, he looks...pleased. He smiles all day, even when he comes back in from caring for the chickens, which he knows the man dislikes. It's nice, kindles a warm feeling in his chest.

He wants to be the cause of that smile more often.

------------------------------

A few days later, he wakes to the sound of more than just the man in the yard out front. There are several people he can't see but he can hear them, carrying things to and fro.

"Jaskier, where do you want this?" one of them asks.

"Oh, that's fine there," the man says. Something flutters in his chest. Jaskier.

There's a few more crates the other men bring into the cottage that he can see through his chink in the wall. The man, Jaskier, watches the stacking of these crates on the far side of the cottage along with another man who stands at his elbow. Compared to Jaskier, the man is very broad and well built with short cropped dark hair. He carries a sword on his hip and stands like he'd be ready to draw it at a moment's notice. He reminds him of the men who'd threatened him the first night.

"I should also warn you there's been sightings of some kind of monster lately." Jaskier turns to the man with the sword, effectively presenting his back to the chink in the wall. He wishes he could see his face.

"What kind of monster? Monsters have been gone for almost a hundred years."

The other man is already shaking his head, "not a monster, monster, no. This is some kind of abomination. Looks like a man but...not. Wrong. He's been spotted at one of the nearby villages as little as a few weeks ago."

"And? How do they know he's a monster then?"

The man puffs out a tired sounding breath, "I'm just relating what I heard, Jaskier. I don't know."

"Of course not," he says, tetchy. There's something beyond the words that have upset him.

"Look, I--"

Jaskier pulls away from the hand hovering over his shoulder. "I don't care, Vincent."

"Jask, you know I didn't--"

"We're not talking about us," Jaskier says, tone sharp in a way he's never heard, "just...let the men finish and then you can run on home to father and tell him what a good little disowned son I've been, hm?"

Jaskier doesn't give him a chance to respond, just steps over to watch the men bringing in the crates more closely, steps just a little too heavy.

When they're gone, he watches Jaskier cry, head in his hands. It makes his chest uncomfortably tight but there's nothing he can do.

------------------------------

When night falls and he's sure Jaskier is asleep (and he feels a little flutter of delight in his gut when he thinks the man's name, elated that he knows it after all this time), he slips out of the storeroom and into the pooling moonlight of the little clearing, stretching his legs. His goal tonight is to chop some more wood so Jaskier will have enough to stay warm tomorrow. Then...maybe a walk. He'd seen some blackberry bushes a few nights ago. Maybe he'd pick some, leave them for him in the morning.

The wood chopping goes quickly and he stacks the split logs nicely with the other chopped wood against the wall by the front door. He does so quietly, not wanting to rouse his sleeping friend. Not that he thinks it likely the man will rouse tonight. He'd been somber the rest of the day and he'd cried again, curled in his bed when he should have been sleeping. He finds he wants to do something to ease the unhappiness that's settled over him since the men had come by.

It's with that thought he wanders off in search of those blackberries. He takes one of the wooden buckets Jaskier usually uses for gathering eggs and sets off to find the blackberry bushes.

They're right where he remembered them, just a short walk from the little pond where the ducks gather from time to time. He goes about picking them to fill the bucket, careful of their little thorns. He gets the bucket three-fourths or so full before he calls it good. By then, he's covered in sticky juice and the sun should be up soon. He's got just enough time to visit the pond, wash off his hands and leave the bucket out front before he’ll settle back in the storage room.

The pond is silent and still when he wanders up, the bucket dangling from one hand. He sets it aside on the shore and kneels at the edge of the pond. He tries not to peer into his reflection in the water, even as the moonlight reflects back off its surface.

Unbidden, then man's words resurface in his mind. Like a man but not. Wrong. He knows he looks...different. There are harsh scars scattering his face, his temples, his arms, his torso. His eyes are wrong, too bright, too strange a color. His hair is unnatural, too pale, too wild. He understands why the villagers are startled by him, understands why they react with fear. He's...wrong. He just doesn't know what to do about it.

He pushes the thoughts from his mind and doesn't let himself linger. Instead, he washes up quickly and treks back over to the cottage. He leaves the bucket of berries on the doorstep and retreats to the storeroom.

------------------------------

He rouses just a little when Jaskier rises. He listens to him sing and go about his morning routine with half an ear, still mostly asleep. The sound of his friend awake and back to normal is a comfort, so it's disturbing the way he abruptly goes silent when the door creaks open.

"Oh--" he's obviously found the berries. The quiet stretches out for a beat too long and then there's a sniffling noise. "Shit," Jaskier mutters. The door clunks back shut. He hears the noise of the bucket being sat down somewhere in the cottage. "'s stupid to fucking cry over berries, Jask, pull it together," he tells himself, voice thick with tears.

He can't help the surge of alarm that rolls through him--he didn't mean to make Jaskier cry. He presses his face to the wood, eye at the chink in the wall, and is surprised to find him smiling despite the tears, gazing down into the bucket of berries as if they are something far more precious as he wipes aggressively at his eyes with the heel of his hand.

"Blackberries," he repeats, once his breathing is a little more under control, "I'll have to make a pie." He's still smiling. Maybe they weren't such a bad idea, after all.

------------------------------

Jaskier continues with his daily routine after that, and he lets himself sleep again, after a time. He's fairly attuned with the noises of Jaskier going about his day, so he doesn't startle when Jaskier begins going through the crates of supplies the men brought yesterday. By the time he realizes what that means, Jaskier's already at the door of the storage shed, dried goods tucked under his arm.

He lays very, very still where he's curled in the corner, pressed against the wall of the cottage, eyes squeezed shut, and waits for the inevitable.

The gasp is expected. The sound of the bundle Jaskier is carrying hitting the ground is as well. What is not expected is the hands that land on his shoulder, tug him over gently. He blinks up at the face of the man he's only watched from a distance, startled. He expected revulsion, fear, the sound of footsteps fleeing. Instead, he's peering down at him with concern.

"Oh, thank the gods you're alive," he sighs out on a breath, patting reassuringly at his shoulder where his hands still rest. "What are you doing in my storage shed, darling?"

And oh, this is...not something he'd been prepared for. He swallows hard and can't seem to force words out.

"You don't have to tell me," Jaskier says softly, "but let's get you inside, alright? It can't be comfortable out here."

He follows in a daze when Jaskier tugs him gently upright and leads him into the cottage. This doesn't feel real. He must be dreaming. Why else would Jaskier be looking at him like that?

"Have you had anything to eat? Are you hungry?" Jaskier asks once he's settled at the table. He at least can follow that much so he shakes his head, still afraid to speak. Jaskier jumps to preparing him a small meal of hard cheese and fresh bread. “Sorry, I haven’t had the chance to make that pie yet,” he says as he sets the little plate before him and settles across the table from him, smiling. "Go on, eat," he says, and he doesn't have to be told twice.

The food is the best thing he's ever tasted. The pleased look never falls off Jaskier's face. "Thank you," he whispers once the plate is empty, wincing when the words fall rough like gravel from his disused throat.

"Oh," Jaskier breathes, freezing with his hand outstretched to take the empty plate. He thinks maybe he's made a mistake, but Jaskier's smile stretches impossibly wider, eyes sparkling, "you're very welcome, dear heart." The look on Jaskier’s face, that tone, settles something warm in his chest.

Jaskier puts the plate on the counter and resumes his seat. He doesn't know what to do with himself in the face of Jaskier's kindness and keeps his eyes averted. Jaskier doesn't give him time to start feeling self-conscious, though.

"I'm Jaskier. Do you have a name, darling? Something I can call you?" And he knows Jaskier’s asking a question but--

Jaskier can tell his mistake almost immediately. “Oh! Um,” he fumbles to press his hand to his chest, “Jaskier,” he repeats, and he nods. Then, tentatively, Jaskier holds out his hand to him. He doesn’t move, not quite sure what Jaskier means until his palm makes careful contact with his chest. His breath catches. “You?”

He shakes his head, understanding that Jaskier is asking for his name. He feels a bubble of shame rise in him. It's not his fault he doesn't have something to go by like everyone else, he knows, but that doesn't lessen the feeling he's let his friend down.

"Oh, sweetheart," Jaskier breathes, and he doesn't sound upset. Or at least, not at him. "What should we call you then?” He looks thoughtful for a minute before, “Hold on, I’ve an idea.”

Jaskier rises and crosses the room, bringing back something from one of the shelves. “I’ve got a book here,” Jaskier says, settling it on the table in front of him, “It’s a storybook, but I could read you the names of the characters here until you find one you like?” and that was a lot of words but…“Just nod if you hear one you like, yes?” He can do that.

So Jaskier flips through the book, stopping periodically to read out the names as he finds them. And they’re...fine. But none of the names sound right to him.

“Hm, Eric?” He shakes his head, “No, I agree, too bland. Jakob? No? Alright then, Alice? That’s typically a lady’s name but--nope okay, um, Geralt?”

And that’s--“Yes,” he says softly. Something about that feels right.

The smile on Jaskier's face is small and delighted. "You want to be called Geralt?"

"Mm." And something about choosing the name makes his face hot. He ducks his head.

The grin that stretches Jaskier’s face looks like it hurts it's so wide. "A good name. Heroic. Kind." His gaze softens as he reaches across the table to rest his palm on Geralt's forearm. The touch is reassuring, even as he burns hot under Jaskier's fingertips. "It suits you."

------------------------------

He doesn't pressure Geralt for an explanation of anything, but he reassures him several times that he can stay, that it's no trouble. He even sets him up with new clothes, soft cotton that isn’t as scratchy as what he’d been wearing.

"Really Geralt, I have to insist. I won't be able to rest knowing you're out there somewhere with nowhere to stay. And," he continues, “if you stay long enough, I’ll even send for some clothes of your own, if you’d like.” And well. He can't let Jaskier worry (and the new clothes would be nice, too).

He sleeps on the little divan and marvels at how quickly Jaskier drifts off, breaths evening into sleep. The trust inherent in the action shakes him to his core. He follows a while later, chest overly tight.

------------------------------

They settle into a habit surprisingly quickly in the weeks that follow. Geralt picks up many of the tasks he'd already been performing for Jaskier in the twilight hours and Jaskier provides excellent company. He still sings and plays his lute in the evenings, preening to have an audience that Geralt is happy to provide.

He's thankful Jaskier asks no questions, although it's obvious Jaskier would like to know more about him, about what happened. He catches him staring at the scars when he thinks Geralt isn't looking, but it's not with revulsion. Geralt can't name the emotion on his face, but it's not a bad one necessarily.

There's only one question he does ask.

"So, do you know who my admirer is?" he says finally. Geralt’s just starting to feel truly comfortable here with Jaskier and is less worried about Jaskier changing his mind about keeping Geralt around. He’s proven he’s helpful and he’s trying very, very hard not to scare him (he’s beginning to think Jaskier can’t be scared, actually).

Geralt's in the middle of chopping wood when he asks. "Because you know, it was really very sweet of them." He's grinning.

"Uh," is the very elegant response Geralt comes up with, cheeks hot. He’s not sure why he’s embarrassed. Jaskier obviously knows it was him. He chops the next piece of wood with a singular focus, doesn't shift his gaze back over to Jaskier.

"He must have very fine arms. He chopped all my wood for weeks, you know," Jaskier says offhand, and oh. He's teasing. His tone is friendly. Geralt only flushes harder. He’s not sure why Jaskier can fluster him so quickly. "Not as good as yours, I'm sure," he continues, and Geralt nearly jumps when Jaskier's hand settles on his bicep, squeezing. "Mm, not sure anyone's as deliciously built as you are, darling."

"Jaskier," he finally bites out, mortified. He feels--he feels--he doesn’t know the word for it, but he’s pretty sure it’s not appropriate. Jaskier laughs.

"It's alright sweetheart," he grins and shoots him a wink, "your secret's safe with me." And Geralt doesn't know what to do with himself, but he likes the way his stomach clenches when Jaskier touches him, the soft way he speaks. And he does trust that he's safe with him. It's...reassuring.

------------------------------

Despite how safe Geralt feels, he still can't bring himself to tell Jaskier how he ended up hiding in his storeroom. He's fairly certain Jaskier won't care at this point, but every time he tries to say something, he finds the words have abandoned him. Unlike Jaskier, he struggles to voice his thoughts, even when he has the words neatly arranged in his head. Jaskier reassures him that it's fine, not everyone is gifted with their speech and it's normal for words not to work the way you'd like, but it frustrates him anyway. He...cares...about Jaskier. He’s…different. He wants to share this part of himself with him. He just doesn't know how.

His efforts are further complicated by the way his stomach flips uncomfortably every time Jaskier is close. He's not an idiot, he knows what it means (Jaskier is a big fan of love ballads, the raunchier the better, he says and it’s…that) but it feels...dishonest to entertain Jaskier's subtle flirting, especially when Jaskier knows nothing about who he really is, how he came to be. After all, who could love a monster?

------------------------------

"Geralt," Jaskier calls from his mound of blankets as Geralt stokes the fire for the last time that night, "come to bed with me, darling."

Geralt can feel himself flush. "Jaskier," he admonishes, but Jaskier only laughs, lifts the corner of the blanket invitingly.

"It's been cold at night and it will only get colder. Come on, Geralt." He bats his eyes enticingly, pats the corner of the mattress again.

"I can't," he says, quiet, and something in Jaskier's expression softens.

"Alright, darling," he says, letting the blankets fall closed around him, "but that's a standing invitation."

"Hm."

Jaskier doesn't press further, but Geralt lays awake thinking about it for far longer than he should.

------------------------------

"I'm a viscount," Jaskier says apropos of nothing a few days later. It's early morning and they're outside, returning from the chicken coop. Geralt turns to where Jaskier's stopped in the middle of the yard, bucket of chicken eggs forgotten on the ground beside him. "Or at least, I used to be. My father disowned me about a year ago now."

"Why?" Geralt asks, because Jaskier seems to need the encouragement. He wouldn't have brought it up if he hadn't wanted Geralt to know.

"I...embarrassed him. With who I chose to take to my bed." He's staring hard at the tree line opposite the cottage. He's not even facing Geralt. "My father's head of the guard. Vincent."

The name brings to mind the day the crates were delivered. The man with the sword who stood too close.

"I was disowned either way and I knew that, but Vincent..." he trails off.

"Thank you, Jaskier. You don't have to tell me." His eyes meet Geralt's finally and he smiles. It's a tiny, watery thing.

"No I--he chose to stay. With my father. And I'm...here. It bothered me. For a long time." He's quiet so long Geralt thinks maybe that's the end of it, but when he steps forward to stand shoulder to shoulder with Jaskier, he keeps talking. "I thought...who would want a disowned viscount? Vincent certainly didn't. I'm damaged goods."

"Jaskier, you're not damaged," Geralt says, horrified at the prospect. Jaskier is...wonderful (even if he talks a little too much for Geralt's taste, sometimes). How could anyone think him lesser for loving who he loved?

Jaskier extends his hand to catch Geralt's and squeezes tightly. Geralt squeezes back, stomach fluttering when Jaskier smiles at him. "I know," he says softly, "and I know you’re not ready to talk about yourself yet, but whatever it is, it’s okay, okay?" And when Jaskier says that, looking at him the way he is, Geralt can almost believe him.

------------------------------

They settle deeper into their routine, something Jaskier calls "disgustingly domestic" with a smile that nearly splits his face, so Geralt's pretty sure he doesn't think it's a bad thing, actually. Geralt certainly enjoys it.

Jaskier talks incessantly about anything and everything and Geralt likes listening.

“You know,” Jaskier says one night, after he’s wound down his playing and put the lute away, “I haven’t had many guests out here since I was disowned. It’s been...nice.”

“Why not?” Geralt asks, stoking the fire before settling back on the fur rug. Geralt can’t understand why someone wouldn’t want to spend time with Jaskier.

“Being disowned is…” he pauses, obviously searching for the right words, “it’s not something that’s done lightly. It means the people I grew up with, the people who were close to me, they can’t see me anymore, or risk having their own reputation tarnished.”

Geralt feels his lips twitch in a frown. Jaskier laughs.

“Oh, don’t make that face, I know. But that’s how it is. I’ve spent some time with the village locals, but it’s...not the same. I’m still nobility to them and I’m no longer nobility to the actual nobles.” He shrugs, but Geralt can see the thought still bothers him.

“You were lonely,” Geralt says. He’s not sure he should have pointed it out, but Jaskier doesn’t seem angry.

“I was,” he agrees softly. Something in his eyes pins Geralt to the spot, “until you.”

And that’s...too much to think about. “Hm.”

The smile that creeps over Jaskier’s face is blinding. “Yes,” he agrees, “hm, indeed.”

------------------------------

"My father's men should be stopping by in the next few weeks," Jaskier says on a morning like any other.

"Did you want me--"

"No," Jaskier corrects hastily before Geralt can offer to hide, "No, I want you here. I just--wanted to give you a heads up."

"Oh."

They don't talk about it again. They probably should have.

------------------------------

"Jaskier?" Geralt calls across the small space of the cottage, sitting up.

There's banging outside. People. Jaskier shifts in his cocoon of blankets that is his bed, only the top of his head visible. "No," he mumbles fuzzily, "don't wanna." He's...not really awake.

"Jaskier," Geralt rumbles, voice still thick with sleep himself, "we should--"

He doesn't get to finish his sentence before the door is swinging open and a man is striding through. When he sees Geralt, his hand lands on his sword.

"Jaskier, what the fuck--"

"Vincent," Jaskier gasps, nearly tripping in his haste to extract himself from the blankets. He’s eyeing the space between Vincent and Geralt with panic, "ever heard of fucking knocking?" he bites out, shifting to put himself between them as much as possible.

"Jaskier, you've got a--"

"Don't finish that sentence," he says, tone flat and threatening, "and I'd appreciate it if you'd give my companion and I some fucking privacy. I'll meet you in the yard in a moment."

Vincent's hand tightens around the pommel of his sword, "I don't think--" he starts, but the look Jaskier pins him with is cutting. He hesitates, but he leaves without another word, pulling the door shut behind him.

"Fucking prick," Jaskier growls, stalking over to his wardrobe to put on some clothes before facing their company.

"I should--" Geralt starts, but Jaskier cuts him off.

"You should get dressed and let me drag you around the yard to hang off of while I make sure my father hasn't fucking shorted me on supplies. I'm already disowned, what more can he do to me?" The grin on Jaskier's face is brittle.

When they exit the cottage, Vincent is hovering by the door, obviously nervous. He's still got his hand wrapped around the pommel of his sword like a lifeline. Jaskier scoffs at it, but Geralt stays carefully back and works to make his posture non-threatening.

"Jaskier," Vincent says the minute he's out the door, "what is--"

"This is Geralt," Jaskier cuts in smoothly, "my companion." Vincent winces.

"He's--"

"My companion," Jaskier reinforces.

"The mage in Novigrad is looking for him." Geralt stiffens.

"I assure you we have no idea what you mean," Jaskier bites out, even as Geralt feels his stomach drop uncomfortably. The mage. The man from the room. He no longer cares one way or the other who the man is or what he wanted from Geralt. He’s happy here, he doesn’t want to leave. Vincent opens his mouth to respond, but he snaps his jaw shut a moment later with no protest.

"Okay," he sighs. Then-- "Where do you want the supplies?"

The men don't stay any longer than they need to, but it's a tense affair for everyone involved. Jaskier takes Geralt's hand in his and doesn't let go until long after Vincent and his underlings have left.

------------------------------

The rest of the day, Jaskier’s filled with a frantic sort of energy. He breezes through chores, drags Geralt on a walk with him out to the pond where he paces the water’s edge for near an hour before they head back. And it doesn’t dissipate even after they’ve returned to the cottage and had dinner.

The fire’s lit and Geralt is settled on the fur rug before it the way he normally does. Usually, this is about the time Jaskier would fetch his lute, or perhaps a book to read from. Instead, he’s still pacing.

“Jaskier,” Geralt finally says, breaking his focus as he comes up short in another circuit of the room, “come sit. Your pacing makes my head hurt.”

“Sorry,” he huffs, flopping down beside him with a heavy sigh. He leans against Geralt’s side for a bit, but he’s still restless, still shifting.

“Jaskier,” Geralt says again and Jaskier sighs hard. He pulls away only to lay beside him, pillowing his head on Geralt’s thigh. Immediately, Geralt slips his fingers into Jaskier’s hair, soothing.

"So that was awful," Jaskier mutters.

"Mm."

He rolls so his face is pressed to Geralt's stomach. Geralt's fingers stay tangled in his hair, gently petting.

"I don’t want you to go," Jaskier says into the silence, muffled against Geralt's bulk.

Geralt’s chest siezes.

“I know you aren’t ready to tell me anything and that’s okay, but I--” his breath is warm against the thin cloth of Geralt’s shirt, “If that mage really is looking for you, I don’t want you to go,” he repeats, voice small.

Geralt feels as if his throat has closed. "I'm--I want to stay here,” he forces out, swallowing roughly. He should explain because Jaskier doesn’t know, but Jaskier sags with relief, presses his face closer to Geralt's stomach, fingers digging into his side and Geralt doesn’t want to take that relief from him, not now.

"That's--I'm glad." They don't say anything else for a long time as the fire burns down.

------------------------------

Geralt can’t stop thinking about the fact Jaskier doesn’t know, though. He needs to tell him. So that he’ll understand. Geralt owes it to him to tell him, whether he wants to or not. And if Jaskier wants him gone after? It will hurt, but he’ll go.

"Jaskier, do you have a minute?" he asks while Jaskier's tuning his lute that evening. He'd been getting ready to play, as he usually does.

"Of course, sweetheart. What is it?" he asks, strumming through a simple, uncomplicated tune. He meets Geralt's eyes with a playful smile, but his expression sobers when he sees the seriousness in Geralt's gaze.

"You asked me," he says carefully, "about before."

"Only if you're comfortable, dear. You don't have to--"

"No," he says, "I do." He needs to understand. He drops his gaze to his lap where he's wringing his hands together nervously. He stills them with effort, but that only makes the scars there stand out more starkly. He startles when Jaskier catches his hands in his own, traces those scars tenderly with lute-calloused fingertips.

"Well then, I'm listening," he says and smiles, small and encouraging when Geralt's gaze flickers back up to his face. It makes his chest tight. He doesn't deserve this. Jaskier. He tries to take in his face now, that tender care, that concern. Just in case it’s gone, after. So he knows. So he can remember.

Despite the fear churning in his gut, he takes a deep breath and starts talking, gaze glued to their still joined hands.

"My earliest memory is--uh. I. I woke up in a...room. I didn't know where I was. There was...a man. The mage, I guess." Jaskier is very, very still but his thumbs rub soothing circles against the back of his hands, a grounding point of contact.

"I tried to ask him what was going on, but I--" he trails off, unsure how to phrase what he means. He shakes his head. "--I didn't know how. I didn't have the words. And I--scared him. I think. He ran."

Jaskier sucks in a noisy breath and squeezes his hands briefly. "Go on," he encourages when Geralt glances back up.

"I followed him. I didn't know what else to do. I was in a town, I think."

"Novigrad," Jaskier interrupts before wincing. "Sorry, go on."

"The people there--I tried to ask for help but they--" he can feel the tears burning in his throat and tries to breathe through it, keep going, "they either ran or they threatened me. I didn't know what was going on." He feels the tears spill and ducks his head. If he stops now, he won't be able to continue. "I ran."

"Oh, Geralt," Jaskier whispers. He lets go of one hand to bring his palm up to Geralt's face. His fingertips brush the corner of his eye, wipe the tears away gently.

"I ended up in the forest. There's a village not too far from here," Jaskier makes a quiet noise of acknowledgment. It’s the village Jaskier goes to sometimes when he needs things his father won’t or doesn’t send. "I stayed around there for a few weeks. Until the men with the swords showed up." Jaskier makes another small noise, rubbing his thumb along Geralt's cheekbone. Geralt closes his eyes. "So I picked a direction and started walking. And I found you."

"And I'm glad you found me, love. Sounds like you've had quite the rough go of it."

The calm acceptance is...too much. Does he not understand? He's a monster. Not natural. The mage wants back his creature. "Jaskier, I'm--"

"Shh," he cuts him off, grip still tight on his hand as he caresses his face, slips his fingers back into his hair, "I'm glad you told me, darling, but it doesn't change how I feel about you. You're a good person." He tugs him into his arms, gentle. Geralt goes, feeling like he did when he woke--unmoored, lost. He feels the tears slip down his cheeks, feels the way his breath catches on a sob. "I love you."

"Jask--" he can't get the words out past the lump in his throat so he just tucks himself a little closer, presses his face into Jaskier's neck. His lute sits forgotten beside them.

"You don't have to say it back, sweetling. It's okay," he says, stroking his free hand through Geralt's hair, the other tucked around his waist.

"I do, though," he whispers, lips brushing his throat, "I do." Jaskier sucks in a shuddering breath and holds him tighter, presses his lips to Geralt's temple, right over the mass of scars there. It's gentle, reverent.

That night, Geralt sleeps in Jaskier's bed, curled against his chest. He’s nearly asleep when the gentle tenor of Jaskier’s voice cuts through the soft haze of near-sleep. “--don’t know where I’d be,” Jaskier is saying softly, lips pressing intermittently to the top of his head, “gets hard being alone out here. And you’re so--” he cuts off, presses a kiss to Geralt’s hair again. He obviously thinks he’s already asleep. “You keep me grounded,” he says. “This is the happiest I’ve been in a long time.” He breathes it like a secret.

As Geralt lets sleep finally pull him under, swimming in Jaskier’s quiet confession, it's the most cared for he's ever felt.

------------------------------

And that’s how things continue, for a long time. Jaskier frets over who may or may not be looking for Geralt and vacillates wildly between stressing himself out about it and pretending it’s not a problem. Vincent and his men show up about every eight or so weeks with supplies from Jaskier’s father and Jaskier drags Geralt out with him to watch every time. Vincent eyes Geralt skeptically still, but he no longer comments or reaches for his sword. And as Geralt begins to experience what contact with other people is like when they’re not running from him or threatening him, he’s further convinced that Jaskier is special. He doesn’t feel this way about Vincent or the other men who deliver their supplies, or the people in the village who Jaskier’s taken him down to meet a few times now (they still won’t come anywhere near him without Jaskier around, but Jaskier is insistent they treat him like anyone else and it’s...it helps).

But Geralt doesn’t know how to make it clear to Jaskier that he’s interested in more. They share Jaskier’s bed, they touch frequently, but things are...remarkably tame. They already say “I love you.” At some point, Jaskier’s flirting had tapered off and now he’s just...sweet. And Geralt loves it, but he also wants...that. The raunchy flirting and the...the things that come after. And the happy ending, like the ones from the fairytales Jaskier readers, sometimes. He just doesn’t know how to let Jaskier know that he wants everything.

It turns out he doesn’t have to ask at all.

"So I know this is a dumb question but," Jaskier's paused over making their eggs one morning, gaze downturned and intense, "I'm--uh. I mean, you--fuck. I have no idea how to say this," he huffs, taking the pan off the open flame and tipping the egg onto a plate. "You want to stay. Here. With me." It's obviously supposed to be a statement, but it sounds like a question.

They’ve already talked about this, haven’t they? "Yes, Jaskier," he says softly, "as long as you'll have me."

Jaskier lets out of a gust of breath, "Fuck okay, so--" he turns to face Geralt, egg abandoned, to take his hands in his, crouching at Geralt’s knees, "I want you here with me, too. More than I, uh, probably should."

Geralt makes a quiet noise in the back of his throat. This sounds like--

"And I know there's no real practical purpose for it since I have nothing but this--" he gestures around them at the cottage, "--to give, but, um. I'd--If you'd be so inclined I'd like to marry you, Geralt." He pauses, eyes downcast and face flushed. Geralt for his part can't seem to put words in any order that might allow them to come out of his mouth and communicate just how much Jaskier's offer means to him.

"It's, uh, a little bit of protection. If the mage does come back for you, or something. But," he's rambling now, words falling from his lips so quickly his tongue is almost tripping over them in an effort to get them out faster, "but it's not like I don't want to marry you, or anything like that. I've been thinking about it quite extensively and I--"

"Jaskier," he cuts in, and he shuts up immediately, wide eyes focused on Geralt's face, nerves pouring off him. "Yes," Geralt says simply, and Jaskier gives a giddy little laugh, tips forward to hide his face in Geralt's lap.

"That's--yes. That's good. I'm glad." When he pulls back to look up into Geralt's face again, his eyes are shining. "Thank you, Geralt."

Geralt's not sure why Jaskier is the one thanking him when Geralt's the one who will most benefit from the arrangement, but he’s not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

------------------------------

Jaskier makes a special trip to the village to bring the priest of Melitele back to their cottage to officiate the hand fastening less than a week later. Geralt's nervous the man will balk when he sees him, but other than going a little pale at the sight, he stands fast. Even the temple boy that he brought with him doesn't do more than flinch when Jaskier levels him with a look.

"Are you sure--" the priest begins, but Jaskier cuts him off quickly.

"We are. And we want a small, private affair. No fanfare. I'm disowned, remember?" he says sardonically, and Geralt knows it's a tactic to keep the man from asking too many questions, they'd talked about it beforehand, but it still makes his chest ache. Jaskier is so good, he doesn't understand why everyone isn't as drawn to him as Geralt is.

"Now?" The priest asks, fiddling with the cord he's brought with him.

"Geralt?" and Jaskier's expression is so cautiously guarded--

"Yes," he agrees, stepping forward to stand shoulder to shoulder with him in their little clearing, just outside the door of the home they've already shared for months. The priest heaves a gust of breath.

"You'll need to kneel," he says, "Jaskier, give him your right hand. Uh--"

"Geralt," Jaskier supplies, eyes hard.

"--Geralt, give Jaskier your left." They kneel before the priest, hands clasped and held up in offering. The priest slips the cord around their joined hands, talking all the while. "Now, you don't untie this once it's done. Bad luck and all that. Ready?"

"Yes," Jaskier says, and Geralt nods.

"Alright." The priest waves the boy over to watch and serve as witness, and then he begins.

"As this knot is tied," he says, twisting the cording together in the first of several knots, "so are your lives now bound."

Jaskier squeezes Geralt's hand so tightly he can feel how he trembles.

"Woven into this cord, imbued into its very fibers, are all your hopes for your new life together." Another knot.

"With the fashioning of this knot do I tie all the desires, dreams, love, and happiness wished here in this place to your lives for as long as love shall last." He ties off the third and final knot and leans backward.

"Hold tight to one another through both good times and bad, and watch as your strength grows." The silence that rings out after the priest ceases speaking is deafening. Geralt can hear the blood rushing in his veins. "It is done."

"Geralt," Jaskier whispers as their joined hands fall to rest on Geralt’s thigh. He can't help but follow the movement of those lips with his eyes. "Kiss me, Geralt." And who is he to deny Jaskier anything?

He squeezes their joined hands, free hand rising to cup Jaskier's cheek. The look in Jaskier's eyes, the tenderness, the love, the thinly veiled excitement, twists his chest. How could he have ever feared this man would reject him?

"Geralt," Jaskier says again, and Geralt doesn't make him ask twice. He leans forward and presses their lips together in a tiny, chaste kiss, hardly more than a brushing of lips. It's still electric, especially when Jaskier makes a tiny, wounded noise and presses in closer, nearly in Geralt's lap.

Somewhere behind Jaskier, the priest clears his throat and Jaskier draws away reluctantly.

"You'll make it official in the books?" Jaskier asks without actually moving from where he’s perched on Geralt's knees.

"Of course. Should I send word to your father?"

"No," Jaskier scoffs, "don't bother." Geralt sees the priest nod behind Jaskier's shoulder. "Thank you."

"You are very welcome, son. May Melitele bless your binding. Come, boy." Before Jaskier or Geralt can say more, the man is hurrying away with the temple boy who's eyes are still wide and fixed on Geralt.

"I'd like to see them take you from me now," Jaskier says once the man's footsteps have faded from hearing, "husband." Something in Geralt trembles at the word.

"Husband," he repeats slowly, testing out the word on his tongue and finding it to his liking. Jaskier grins, wide and bright.

"Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?" He leans forward to kiss Geralt again, as if some dam has broken and he can't help himself. "My beautiful husband," Jaskier breathes against Geralt's lips.

When he pulls back, breathing hard, Geralt brings their still bound hands up to his lips to kiss Jaskier's knuckles, tender and reverent.

"How could anyone not look at you and see how sweet you are," Jaskier breathes, pulling his knuckles away from Geralt's mouth to give Geralt's scarred fingers the same treatment. "So beautiful, so full of love, my husband is."

"Jaskier--"

"Shush, I'm basking," he teases, giving another deliberate kiss to the back of his hand.

"I'm not--"

"No," Jaskier corrects immediately, "you just don't see yourself the way I see you. You're beautiful, Geralt and I love you very, very much."

He feels his face heat, ducks his head so his hair falls in the way, hiding his eyes.

"And I'll say it as many times as you need to hear it. I love you and I'm not going anywhere. And--" he continues, slipping the fingers of his free hand under Geralt's chin and tilting his head up until their eyes meet, "--I'm not letting anyone else have you. You're mine, husband dearest."

"Yours," Geralt agrees easily. The mage may or may not be looking for him, but it doesn't matter. Geralt wants nothing to do with him anyway.

"And I'm yours, darling. As long as you want me."

"Mine," Geralt echos, "Always."

And that's enough.

#witcher #witcher fic #geraskier #lizard writes #my baby! she lives!#a love letter both to geralt as a character and frankensteins creature

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