#shorter chapter but that's okay

[anomalyaly]

Secrets of the Silent Stars Chapter 34: Ranrok is posted. AO3/Wattpad

[saerins]

⋆୨ chapter five ୧˚ if not for this love of mine

⋆୨ if not for you (masterlist) ⋆୨ previous: chapter four - behind a box of reasons why <> next: chapter six - redefines in every way what love is ୧˚

⋆୨ synopsis ୧˚ neither of you want this. both you and sae reluctantly agree to this marriage, although sae’s dissatisfaction far outweighs your own. with hidden agendas and old flames, will this ever work out between the two of you, or will your forced spark be doomed to fail?

ೀ series: sae x f!reader | wc 5k | ೀ content warnings: fluff/angst, modern au, arranged marriage, rich!sae and rich!reader, jealousy/paranoia, third parties, manipulation, slightly suggestive | notes: since mirin is everyone’s favourite , i decided to give her a little more screen time ^_< hehehe

It’s a pain. It’s torture.

You’re not sure why you’re like this, but you wish you weren’t. If only you weren’t so wishy washy. If only you could confront Sae like a normal person would then maybe this would all be simpler. But sadly, you don’t do normal—you do stupid and you do idiotic because that night, after you’ve just found out that Mirin of all people had been in your house (because you’d recognise that table anywhere), you don’t ask Sae straight up.

Eggshells. You’re walking on eggshells around the topic, trying to get Sae to cough it up himself.

After all, she didn’t just post that one story apparently. She posted a few more after that, conspicuously typing some white hearts over it, or other things like days like this are the best >>> or just like the old days 🤍 which makes you want to punch her through the phone. 

“So, what’d you do today?” You are always genuinely curious about his day, but having a hidden agenda for the question tonight makes you feel a little guilty.

On Sae’s part, he’s generally disinterested in talking about himself, as usual, which is now not quite working in your favour. He shrugs, wiping the countertop since he accidentally spilled some water on it beforehand.

“Nothing much, stayed home, still feel like shit.”

Right, because that morning he’d told you he seemed to have gone down with a cold. To be fair, his nose was running and he had puffy eyes. His nose is still kind of red now but then you wonder if he’d intended to invite Mirin over, then.

“Oh, so… nothing interesting happened?”

Your tone seems a little off, and Sae picks up on it, turning around with his brows furrowed. “Yeah, why do you ask?”

If you were smart, you’d cough it up yourself. But no, you aren’t because you’d been over this—you’re stupid and idiotic and dumb, so dumb. So instead, you force a smile and shake your head.

“Just curious, that’s all,” you brush it off, effectively losing your chance to ask Sae about it anymore (for now).

Nothing really escapes Sae, though, because he knows something is off, but he’s not a mind reader. And maybe it’s because despite getting so much closer recently, neither of you have actually spoken about your actual deep feelings that there’s uncertainty in the air between the two of you.

He takes a seat across from you, dinner already finished, nothing else but the sound of the television playing the news in the background. Sae doesn’t really do anything but look you in the eyes, as though he’s searching for answers to his unspoken question.

“What is it?” You ask, shirking slightly under his innocent stare.

This time, Sae’s the one shaking his head, though he’s still looking into your eyes. “You can tell me anything if you ever need to, okay?”

Sae’s given you permission. He doesn’t know what it is, for sure, but he has. So then you start wondering to yourself: why are you so scared?

“You are so dumb.”

“I know!” You have your head in your hands, groaning as you feel Reo’s deathly judgey stare upon you.

It’s been a week since you found out about Mirin being over at your house, and you still haven’t found the guts to ask Sae about it straight. And thanks to Sumi, you’ll be the first to know if Mirin ever posts about being inside your house again. (So far there’s nothing.)

Reo’s been busy the past week, but now that he’s heard your predicament, he’s cursing himself for not making time. He didn’t think it was this bad. Knowing you, you must’ve been overthinking yourself to sleep, even if Sae is right there beside you.

He sighs, pensive as he watches you spiral. You’re whining incoherently and babbling on about being stupid and hating this Mirin girl. You’re definitely head over heels for Sae by now and there’s a bittersweet feeling building up inside Reo. But he’s nothing if not the best friend ever so he shoves his personal feelings aside.

“But really, if Sae told me that, I’d ‘fess up straight away. I don’t think he’d care if you told him you stalked Mirin’s story,” Reo tells you, hoping it’ll give you the small push you need to just talk to him.

Sighing, you look up at Reo, eyes hidden behind your hair and got you looking straight out of a horror film. Reo would usually tease you for this, but considering your emotions right now, he spares you the agony of having to listen to him poke fun at you.

“I don’t know,” you groan, dragging out the last syllable.

It’s an entire mix of reasons, honestly.

One, you’re too scared to ask him because you’re afraid it’s true. It’s a stupid reason, but you’re beginning to feel like this marriage is hopeful (ironically) and you want this to work so bad that you don’t want anything to ruin this. If you could just make the problem go away silently, wouldn’t it work too? You don’t want to risk having one single argument with Sae that would lead you back to square one.

Two, every instance of communication that you’ve brought up since you were young convinces you otherwise. Nothing you’ve ever raised to your parents has given you the safety that you so sought. All you ever got in return for telling on someone who bullied you or complaining that the tea is too hot and it burns your tongue or confiding in your mum that their business partner seems shady was a tight slap on the cheek or public humiliation. Sae is neither of your parents, but that’s the interesting thing about being raised that way—it’s hard to snap out of it.

There are probably more excuses you can offer, but you’re too tired to think about them. It’s been too many sleepless nights, ending only with you waking up for work like a zombie. Sumi’s been trying her best to keep your energy up, always getting you coffee and perking you up in between tasks but it’s hard to get your mind off it.

Sensing that you’re going off the deep edge, Reo sucks in a deep breath.

“You mentioned that everything was going well with him, right?” Reo asks you, and you nod, albeit like a sad little puppy. “You said that the honeymoon ended in a rocky way, but then in the end, Sae made you feel comfortable, didn’t he? Like you could feel that it could work?”

Those are all things you mentioned to him today during the catch up, yeah.

“What are you getting at, Reo?”

He averts his gaze, hesitant. “Y/N, why’d you ask to meet at my place? Why not our usual hangout?”

You’d planned to keep your lips sealed about that, but looks like it doesn’t escape Reo’s notice. Giving up, you confess.

“Remember the last time we met? Apparently, someone snapped a pic of us in a misleading angle and, well, my parents confronted me about it—I don’t even know how they fucking got it, maybe they have a PI on me or something but urgh,” you say in one breath, sidetracking. “But yeah, anyway, Sae didn’t see the picture and I guess… I just wanted to avoid any misunderstandings.”

Reo listens to you, a full face of seriousness, before leaning back against his chair, facepalming himself. “Oh god the two of you are just two idiots.”

Straightening up, you look at your best friend, wide-eyed. “Okay you need to tell me what’s going on.”

“Okay look, I don’t know what’s going on with this Mirin chick, okay? But what I do know is…” Reo trails off, knowing that he’s absolutely pushing you to Sae, losing his own chance forever. But then again, he’s already lost. “Sae really cares about you.”

You stay silent, wondering what on earth led Reo to that conclusion when he barely knows your husband.

“Remember that night you called when you were in Korea?” Reo asks, and you recall that he was too busy to pick up. Not entirely out of pocket. You nod. “Actually… I was talking to Sae.”

“Huh?”

That was not the information you’d expected, so you can only stare at Reo dumbly, waiting for him to elaborate.

“That night, he called me, saying that you had been acting weird and he thinks you’re upset and especially that night in particular.” You’re not sure why hearing that sounds surreal to you. “He was asking me how best to comfort you.”

There’s a lot of things you want Reo to elaborate on, but all you can keep thinking of is the fact that Sae made that much effort to try and console you, even when he didn’t know what was going on. It’s a far cry from the guy who initially told you you essentially meant nothing to him.

You didn’t even notice it, but Reo’s already shifted himself, sitting beside you, his hands on your shoulders. 

“Listen, I don’t know if he’s over his ex or not, I really don’t,” Reo tells you honestly, but his grip is firm on you, “but I really don’t think his feelings for you are fake.”

It sounds funny hearing this from Reo, somehow.

“I just think… maybe you should try to talk to him?” Reo suggests, although you knew that. He only serves to further convince you. “Otherwise, are you sure you want to send this marriage to its end like this?”

Reo’s words sit with you the whole ride home.

The worst part is he’s right. If you don’t talk to Sae, then you’ll just end up gradually drifting apart from him. Then where would the marriage go? You doubt Sae would’ve ever thought that you saw Mirin’s story and started acting cold because of it.

Besides, if you’re letting yourself be hopeful, maybe Sae didn’t tell you about it because it was insignificant. (You know it’s a stupid excuse especially when your husband invited his ex over to the house but you’re trying to hold on to hope.)

Relenting to fate, you text Reo.

you’re right, i’ll try talking to him…

You immediately get a text back.

you can do it! lmk if you need anything ok? 

You just give his message a thumbs up because you’re too nervous to form any more sentences. At the very least, there’s comfort in knowing that your best friend will always be here for you.

Judging by the time, half past eight at night, you’re sure Sae’s already home, probably flipping through the channels because there never seems to be anything that he wants to watch. It’s just the way he is; you like the intimacy of knowing that. That means you need to figure out what to say before you even get there. Preparation is key—because you don’t want to space out when it’s time to talk to him.

So that’s exactly what you do.

By the time you reach your front door, you’ve rehearsed your opening line a hundred times, and your heart’s pounding out of your chest. 

But of course, none of that means anything when you open the door and still space out because now, guess what’s the only thing you can think about?

Why the fuck did you open the door to see Mirin at your bedroom entrance?

There it is—the blank. It’s creating a gaping hole in your head. Because not only is Mirin here in the flesh, dressed head to toe in designer labels and looking like a model out of a magazine, she’s noticed you too now, and she’s looking at you without an ounce of guilt. All she’s doing right now is staring back at you, her listless face forming into a smile.

That’s not the worst thing, though. You notice her lips: smudged mauve lipstick in the corners, looking heavily like she just made out with someone.

“Oh hi! You must be Y/N, right?” She greets, holding out her hand that you really just want to slap away but you don’t—best not to fuck with the iceberg, or tip the boat or whatever that phrase is because you can’t think properly at all right now. “I’m Seto Mirin,” she introduces as you shake her hand.

You can’t even say hi before you hear the familiar click open of your bathroom doors, inside the master bedroom where Mirin has just been waiting outside of.

Out comes Sae, as though he’d been rushing, his collar a mess and his hair slightly wet. Has he been washing his face? When he comes face to face with you, you nearly scoff because he’s missed a spot: on his neck. Because he’s slightly taller than her. It checks out.

His usual nonchalance is replaced with perplexity, like he’s unsure what to say to you. It’s fine though, because you’re not sure if you can take what he wants to tell you.

“Should we go, babe?” Mirin asks Sae, and all you see is red. Sae turns to her to speak but she cuts him off, turning her attention to you. “It’s nice meeting you!” Her fingers wrap around Sae’s wrist, pulling him with her to the door before either of you know it.

You’re stuck staring into your bedroom at nothing, too stunned to even speak. Is this really happening right now? Just when you resolve to speak to Sae about it, the problem shows up right underneath your nose. It sucks even more that just looking at her face makes you think back to all those photos he kept of the two of them, kept safe wherever it is now because evidently, he’s moved it away from its original hiding place since he asked you to sleep in the same room with him.

A hand on the back of your neck brings you back to the present, and you realise that he’s here, looking at you apologetically that you’re halfway expecting him to say sorry and that he’s leaving you.

He doesn’t.

What he does do is look you in the eyes, and you’re not even sure you recognise those teal hues of his anymore. Maybe you don’t want to.

“Hey it’s nothing okay, this is nothing, so wait for me to come back?” Sae is genuinely asking because for the first time since you met him, you can feel the worry and tension in his voice. As if he sort of expects you to already think of running.

When you don’t say anything, Sae’s grip on you loosens, and he asks, softly, like a whisper, “do you trust me?”

Part of you would like to scream at him, to ask him how dare he ask you that when all of this is happening right now. When he’s never once given you any sort of warning about Mirin? When, if you’d never happened to see that little black box in the first place that you’d be caught completely off guard right now?

“I don’t know, Sae. Can I?”

Sae swallows the lump in his throat. For once, you’re the one who sounds cold. But he supposes that he deserves that. “Look, I’ll explain everything when I get back later okay? Please, just- I know I haven’t earned it after today, but just trust me, okay?”

You don’t offer any assurance or answers. You don’t move at all. Not until Sae hesitantly leaves, the ding of the elevator all you hear until it closes, and their pair of footsteps disappear and that’s when you get to the closet, grab a bag full of essentials and don your leather coat, turn off your phone and then leave.

This is all way too much for one day.

You should really count your blessings that you have money handy. The amount in your joint account is untouched, because you don’t want Sae figuring out where you are. At least you have your own credit card.

What you need now is time. Some time to yourself to figure all of this out; what exactly is left for you here, whether you can circumnavigate out of the sticky situation with your parents if you do end up calling this off.

As you toss your bag onto the bed, you look out at the expensive view below you. It’s not so beautiful when you’re in a bad mood.

There’s a knock on your door, and you find a dark-haired man dressed in a tailor-made suit at your door.

“Is there anything I can offer you, ma’am? Perhaps a glass of wine or anything from our restaurant?”

He looks familiar but you see a lot of faces everyday so you don’t even bother. You shake your head. “No that’s fine, I’d just like to be left alone tonight, so.”

Seemingly understanding, he nods curtly. “Very well, have a good night, Mrs Itoshi.”

Mrs Itoshi. You’re not even sure why it’s become a habit to sign off as Mrs Itoshi. Considering the projectile at which your marriage is at danger of crumbling down from, you really need to kick the habit.

Sighing, you plop yourself down on the bed, looking around at the suite you booked for yourself. It’s petty of you, you know that, to book yourself the most expensive suite available at the last minute, at one of the most expensive hotels in all of Japan. But you’re heartbroken, so you give yourself a pass.

At the very least, you’d thought that being alone tonight would give you some peace of mind, but all it does is make your head swim with thoughts about what Sae and Mirin must be up to. Are they kissing each other right now? Because that must’ve been interrupted earlier when you waltzed back into your own home right? Or maybe they’re just like you, in an expensive suite somewhere else, getting ready to do—

You shake your head, irritated at yourself and your inability to stop thinking about Sae. Fuck, maybe a walk around the park downstairs would take your mind off it. You’ve always liked nice sceneries, especially up close—maybe that’ll work.

And it does, to a certain extent.

With the chilly air blowing in your face, the cold of the night somehow so much more inviting than the warmth of the empty hotel room. All you could think about in there was the fact that the last time you’d been to a hotel was during your little honeymoon trip.

It’s a nice park right outside the hotel, one of the most touristy areas in the city, where couples like to take pictures together against the backdrop of the giant heart in the middle of the vicinity, or where schoolgirls like to frequent after school armed with their cup noodles and their girlfriends.

An hour later, maybe two, you find yourself sitting on one of the benches facing the river, enjoying your time thinking about nothing at all. It’s the most peaceful your mind’s been in a while. In a long time, actually. Maybe comparable to before the news of having to get married was ever broken to you.

You miss it, somehow. The absence of problems. Especially ones that relate to a third party. Sure, you had your parents to deal with, but you always had that problem. Come to think of it, you don’t think you’ve ever had anyone stand up to them for you like Sae did. Not even Reo, only because he thought it would just make matters worse if he did. Still, Sae’s exceeded your expectations many times.

It all seems like such a waste now.

You stare at your lifeless phone. You can’t even switch it on even if you wanted to because it’s properly dead. Not that it’s any use anyway. You don’t want to speak to anyone. Not even Reo. But you wonder if Sae even bothers enough to check in with you while he’s out doing god knows what with you know who.

There is something you feel like you urgently need to do, though.

So you borrow a phone from a nice stranger, seems like a couple who’s on vacation from Hokkaido. You dial the number you’d been trained since a kid to remember.

“Mr Ishiro? This is Y/N.”

Mr Ishiro, your ever trusty family lawyer who would be able to get you out of any sticky situation you ever needed. God knows what went through your parents’ minds when they asked you to memorise his number. Did they think you would somehow do some illegal shit in the future that needed some bailing out of?

“I know this isn’t typically what you do, but um, I need help with some divorce papers and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell my parents yet—”

“Do you mean your parents—”

“Haven’t approved of it? No, of course not,” you cut him off, just wanting his agreement to it more than anything. Everything else can be discussed once he has it drafted.

“Y/N, I don’t know—”

“Please, I just need those divorce papers drafted—”

But the phone is swiftly taken from you, and you’re about to apologise for taking too long, except you realise the one who took it from you isn’t even the owner but your husband.

Your husband. Itoshi Sae. Right in front of you, face red and panting as though he’s been running in the cold.

He hands the phone back to the kind strangers, thanking them and waiting for them to go before he turns back to you, his face utterly devoid of emotions. You’re not sure why he’s here, and you’re not sure why it seems like he’s been running all the way over here to find you.

“Divorce?” He asks, and there’s a smidget of incredulity in his tone.

It doesn’t make you back down. 

“You don’t have to explain anything. I’ll get my lawyer to draft out the papers and—”

“He’s not going to draft out anything,” Sae interjects, keeping his voice down. At this time of night, there are still lots of people around, and you guess he wants to spare both of you the humiliation of being caught in a public argument.

You have to avoid looking him in the eyes; if you catch even a sliver of concern in them then you might waver and that’s the opposite of your desired effect.

“Look, I’m sorry but you’re going to have to work it out with your parents or something because I’m not cut out for this, okay?”

Sae doesn’t move, and he doesn’t speak too soon. He lets your words sink in before asking, “not cut out for what, exactly?”

You think it’s cruel how he wants to make you spell it out. 

This time, you look him in the eyes. He’s inching closer to you, and his cold facade is breaking. He still looks very much like the person you fell in love with.

“I just think that…” God, it hurts to say it out. “I get that neither of us wanted this. That we both had no other options. But… I can’t just go about everyday pretending I’m fine if my on-paper husband is out everyday dating his ex that he can’t get over.”

Sae’s brows furrow for a second before he heaves a deep sigh, moving towards you, one of his hands extending to the top of your head, gently placing it there before he pulls you in for a hug.

“I’m sorry,” he says, softly, relief easing his shoulders when you don’t pull away in retaliation.

While there’s no more anger left in you, something that’s much too easily seeped away with his mere hug, what’s left is confusion. Confusion, because you’re not sure what he’s apologising for.

“I’m sorry but you’re stuck with me.”

Still. Only. Confusion.

Is this Sae’s way of refusing you? Is this his way of being a tyrant?

You pull yourself away, pushing him back in the process.

“So what? You wanna continue this charade? Fool our parents and have me cover for you while you keep a mistress on the down-low?” Sae’s mouth opens but you don’t give him the time of day to speak. “Look, I get I’ll never be her but that’s too much, Sae. It’s too much to ask of me.”

There are no words to describe how you feel; it’s everything all at once. Disappointment, confusion, surprise, and worst of all is that there’s still that little speck of optimism inside you that wants to wish for the best. But you know best that all that is is an excuse for disappointment to work its way back around again.

That’s why you don’t even let him finish calling out your name before you run back towards the hotel, where you came from. Yeah, that should be a good plan—just run back, get to your suite and lock the doors. Maybe on a little television to drown out your thoughts.

Behind you, you hear the sound of boots clacking against the cobblestone path, and you know that it’s Sae because… you just know. You’d know him by any sound and any scent—you’ve fallen hopelessly for Sae and you were an idiot to think that he could’ve possibly felt it too because this is the real world, the world outside your head, and in this world, Itoshi Sae is in love with someone else who’s infinitely prettier, probably smarter too, and who’s had so much history with him that you can never even dream of replacing.

A thousand more winters with Sae would probably never replace his youth with her.

And just when you think your night can’t get any worse, you’re barely back at the hotel entrance when you spot the familiar wavy hair, the familiar pair of eyes that haunt you whenever you remember their pictures together.

But there’s something that renders you speechless, a sight you never expected to see—there are tears in her eyes.

Mirin is in front of you, just a few steps away, puffy red eyes and contorted facial expression, yoghourt in hand, half open and nothing makes sense to you right now, because the next thing you know, she’s flung the pack of half-eaten yoghurt at you, the whites staining your coat.

“You… you bitch!”

It reflects so much of what you’re thinking that you nearly thought you were the one saying it. But it’s Mirin. And she’s angry and upset and crying and you’re utterly, completely confused.

“Wait, what are—”

The next thing you know, Mirin is storming towards you, her hands grabbing your coat collar, yanking at it while she’s hurling profanities at you.

“It’s all your fucking fault, I wish you’d just disappear already!” Mirin’s crying and sobbing between her words and usually you’d feel bad for someone who’s in this state but you’re not. Not when she’s painting you a bitch, a whore, a slut and whatever else she’s calling you.

Sae stands in front of you when he gets there, and you recall him telling you about how he got hurt and there’s a little bit of guilt there. He pushes Mirin away from you, his first course of action being to assess whether you’re hurt.

“Hey, are you okay?”

This all hurts, though not in the way that he’s looking at.

You just nod. Your head’s in a mess, you don’t really know what else to do.

As everyone around you stares at the scene, the hotel manager from earlier strolls out, hands in his pockets, an unbothered aura surrounding him. He merely bows and apologises to everyone, urging them to move on and that this is just a small disturbance, nothing worth their time.

Before you can even thank him, he gives Sae a look that seemingly says yikes before turning to Mirin, opening his mouth before realising that she’s still glaring at you, and then deciding to avert his initial plan to speak to her. This time, he chooses to look at you next. The calmer of the two.

“Hey Mrs Itoshi, you alright?”

“She’s fine, Karasu,” Sae answers for you, holding you close, even if some of the yoghurt is getting on his coat.

Karasu shoots you a grin—this must be why Sae’s here. He must’ve tipped him off. And now you finally remember where you’ve seen him, among Oliver’s instagram pictures as the nameless friend you’d yet to meet.

Sae only needs to nod at him for him to understand what he needs to do, namely, be a distraction for Mirin or to take her away—either way, it’s to leave the two of you alone with each other.

Once Karasu forcefully drags Mirin away, Sae fully turns to you, putting his own coat around your own.

“It’s fine, the hotel’s right there so I can—”

“Don’t leave,” Sae blurts out, and you don’t think you’ve ever heard him be so gentle, so genuine. You think he probably means not to leave him, but you don’t want to get ahead of yourself.

“Sae, what’s going on?” You ask, sighing, your head pounding after an inconceivable few hours.

He hesitates for a while before ultimately proposing a compromise. “If I tell you everything you want to know, could you reconsider the whole divorce thing?”

It’s not that hard for you to agree to this time, because there’s so much more that you want answers to than you initially thought, and besides—Sae said to reconsider, not that you still couldn't flat out do it anyway. It’s a win-win, at least for you.

But just when you think you have your emotions under control, all it takes is a simple kiss on your temple and the words that Sae whispers in your ear to catch you off guard.

“Good, because I’m in love with my wife, and I don’t want her to leave me.”

taglist: @kimvmarvel @mxplesyrvp @yuzurins @futuristicxie @kiopanxp @k0z3me @y-sabell-a @sae1toshilover @xoxojisu @karmatiz @sagejin @minnieminnie00-got7 @hearts4heidi @shiinobu-x @n1uh @prepchuu @leeyzhuo @shidouryusm @tsukishiro-yue2402 @kaiserkisser @pookiebearcave @dcvilxswish @saeskiss @whtflrr @arminseas @raphsimp @saharei @danibxe @lectris00 @comet-kun @ishitam67 @gskill @sweet2wthsblog @astruoise @scaraslover @beaniedoodz @bersuadikotatua @idk-bro-gay @etoiile @sanzu-sanzu-sanzu @yourstrulyharu @noimnotttt @tinyfurytaco @bxddiebloss @biaonww **bolded: means i can’t tag you guys because of your settings >_<

[larissa-the-scribe]

New conspiracy theory about 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea: Jules Verne was paid per scientific term he used.

[midnightwind]

Clipped Wings

Clipped Wings is a slow burn Rookanis fic (our main man and his +1 will be appearing in later chapters) taking place right before the events of the game up until the final scene fates willing.

Summary: Every hero has to start somewhere. For Mirenna de Riva that somewhere is in an alley she wasn't supposed to be in, fighting Antaam she wasn't supposed to be dealing with.

Word Count: 6076

Read on AO3 | Next

Chapter One: The Botched Job

The air was acrid, the smoke from the many Antaam bonfires stinging her nose as she clung to the trellis. It was doing a damn fine job drowning out the usual smell of the canals, smothering the food stalls still fighting for coin in the markets. Even the cafes struggled to combat the smoke at times. Treviso had turned into a smoldering mess, all fire and gunpowder. The Antaam checkpoints choked the once beautiful maze of alleys and canal paths, ugly slabs of wood casting a harsh reminder of the occupation on the streets. There were attempts to reclaim them, of course, the splashes of purple and black art serving as the calling cards of the Crows. A few might have even been painted by her hand, but they did little to inspire faith. Things looked bad.

The Crows had begun gathering in the Cantori Diamond to make plans, a strange cooperation to be seen from an order that would kill a House for sneezing wrong. It wasn’t quite war, but the occupation was an affront to their honor. Treviso, all of Antiva, was theirs. So how did an order of assassins deal with it? Apparently by spending days upon weeks discussing where to hit the Antaam, sending out small teams that seemed to more annoy the invaders than actually uproot them, and so much yelling. It was why she was out in the city instead of back at the nest. No open contracts in her name meant she had a little free time and getting away from the Talons arguing over what was the more worthy target was a blessing. As if Viago and Teia in the same room wasn’t exhausting enough, having the First Talon looming in each meeting was terrifying. Just thinking of the woman sent a shiver down her spine.

Shaking herself slightly, she turned away from the grim image of Antiva and pulled herself swiftly to the rooftop. She liked being on the up high, above everything and feeling the wind wrap around herself. Through the haze of smoke she could still see the stars shining down, the moons bright and full. A fine night for a run. If Viago wanted to drag her into another pointless meeting that ended with her giving an Antaam patrol a run for their money, well, tough shit. One of the fledglings would have to catch her first. Or better yet, they could do the job.

There was a daunting gap between buildings caused by the canal that she wanted to finally vault. It gave her a goal that at least felt attainable in the now. Better than lurking in the casino rafters waiting for Viago to send her away when she got too annoying. There was a joke to be made about putting a crow in a cage that caused a wry smile to brush her lips. If she could combine it with a pun she could torture Teia with it at least. But she had a date with the yawning abyss to keep.

A moment of quick stretches and deep breathing had her whirling thoughts finally settle. A stillness came over her before she bolted into motion. The roof flew past in a blur, her feet barely touching the ground as she vaulted balconies and ran along felled beams. She loved the feeling of her stomach dropping when she jumped over the streets and canals, a wild euphoria in the action. Her magic hummed in her veins, quick bursts pushing her a little higher into the air, giving her a bit longer in the jump. A proper burning in her lungs was building as she reached her goal, a sudden darkness of empty air looming ahead. Her destination had a decent balcony one storey down and she had been landing there on each attempt. She was always just short of the roof proper. Usually she would stop before the jump, double check she had a clear landing, then give herself the length of the roof as windup. 

Tonight she wasn't stopping. Letting the momentum of the night’s run carry her, she sailed into the waiting darkness. There was a long moment where it felt she simply hung in the air, no tether or fear of falling. As if she truly were a crow flying in the sky. Then gravity latched onto her. She was going to miss again. Frustration had her teeth grinding, but she wasn't one to give up. Magic pooled in her hands as she thrust them down, a bright light and resounding pop following the push of energy. It threw her back up into the air, the lip of the roof finally appearing under her, but now she was wholly unprepared to land.

With her hands stuck near her knees, she had to twist midair to avoid landing on them. Instead she landed on her side, her shoulder and hip taking the brunt of the impact as she rolled to a stop. Flopping to her back she pulled in gasping breaths, a wide smile on her lips. She raised her hands into the air in victory, wincing as her bruised shoulder protested. She'd probably regret it in the morning, but the exhilaration was worth it.

Her blood ran cold in the next second as the sounds of clinking chains and Antaam grunts echoed up from the street below. She flipped to her stomach, inching to the rooftop's edge to peer down. There was a patrol of the horned bastards leading a dejected train of people in chains. Slaves. They were making slaves of her people. It was only a handful of them, but she felt rage beginning to eat away at her thoughts. Six Antaam guards, half leading and half following. Two artillerists, three axe wielders, and a shield guard. The gunners pulled up the rear and the shield guard seemed to be leading.

Before she could fully process her actions, she was pulling out throwing daggers coated in poison. It was a paralyzing agent, a bit slow to take action but debilitating. Three found their mark as she pushed off the roof, a fourth going wide. Viago would be furious at that if he had been watching. Mageknife in hand, she fell on the farthest gunman. She buried the blade in the soft meat between the head and shoulder, angling it into the jugular. He swung back wildly and she let the movement throw her as the Antaam crashed to his knees, clutching at the gushing wound. As her feet hit the ground, magic pooled in her heels and launched her forward at the next target. That one was gifted a dragging slice from kidney to chest as she spun around him before burying it to the hilt in his heart.

That spent the last of the surprise, the third warrior swinging his axe at her head. She left the mageknife stuck in her last victim, falling to the ground to sweep at the man's legs. It felt like trying to kick a wall, pain lancing up her own leg. The soft meat behind his knee buckled slightly as the swing carried him in a half circle and she scrambled to unsheathe a mundane blade. Her head tilted slightly as a loop of chain suddenly appeared around the Antaam's throat, pulling back heavily. As he scrambled to tear it away, to slip his fingers under the links and pull in a breath, she buried a dagger in his heart and a second in his belly for good measure. She was wrenching her mageknife free before the body hit the ground. The helpful prisoner was grasping at the daggers left in the other corpse, giving her a quick lopsided smile. He was an older dwarf, dressed in expensive looking traveling clothes that had seen better days.

“Lovely evening, isn't it?” He smiled, finally freeing a blade to clutch in his shackled hands.

Whatever response she had wanted to give was lost as a shield bashed her bodily into the wall. She bounced painfully off the building, her bruised hip and shoulder screaming. Her ribs were also protesting from the impact, a few at least cracked if not broken. It made her head swim and she staggered back to her feet with swaying motions as the shield guard's spear lashed out. It cut a burning tear along her cheek from mouth to ear. Warm blood rushed out to meet the cool night air and she absently thanked the Maker he had cut below her eyes. Her dazed eyes watched the remaining two warriors squeeze past him to start swinging at her, one grabbing the length of chain between the dwarf's hands and tossing him like a toy back into the other slaves.

She had managed to hit the axe wielders with her throwing daggers earlier, but she saw the third one stuck uselessly in the shield guard's armor. That made things harder. Tiring out the warriors until the poison took effect was one thing, doing that while also avoiding the charging shield and biting spear was a whole other issue. A trembling smile stretched across her lips. She always had to make her jobs so complicated.

Dancing back, she ducked under the weapon’s swing. The side streets of Treviso weren't made to accommodate the Qunari let alone their massive weapons. That meant they couldn't reach the usual devastating speed. One upside to living in a city that used canals more than roads. It also made it harder for the two warriors to stand side by side to hunt her down. Not that they didn't try, the blades biting at her leathers as she backpedaled faster and faster. She couldn't keep that up, partly because she was getting tired and partly because she was running out of side street. The main thoroughfare would be a death sentence. Thankfully, the stupid bastards had erected their ugly barricades with chunky beams. The wood stuck out with tantalizing footholds and she used them to scramble her way up to the connecting beams of the buildings, bright bursts of energy propelling her above their swings. She peppered the warriors with her orb, the magic sparking along their flesh. They were slowing down, steadily, but she still needed a little more time. Dancing above their heads was definitely an improvement.

An agonizing blast to her shoulder spun her bodily, landing heavily on the beams and scrambling to hold on to avoid falling. The spear had been thrown beautifully, she had to admit. And then a hand was wrapped around her dangling ankle and she was ripped from her perch and slammed into the cobbled street. Her breath left her in a strangled gasp, the world spotting black as her head cracked against stone. She could barely see the Antaam axe being leveled to swing cruelly down on her, but she grasped the warrior’s leg weakly. Her magic ripped through her mercilessly, an agonized scream slipping free. The electricity caused the Qunari to shudder and jerk, staggering back a step as she kept pouring it into him. His friend was struggling to raise his own weapon, the poison finally kicking in. Better late than gore on the sidewalk.

A crossbow bolt smashed into the frozen Antaam, followed by several more at a blinding speed. That seemed like a miracle, but she wasn't going to question it. Her mark finally crashed backwards as a smoking ruin and she sluggishly crawled to her feet. Just one more big bastard and then she could close her eyes like her body was screaming at her to do. She spat out blood, the metallic tang centering her. The shield guard had scooped up an ax, the weapon pointed at her, but the shield was turned away, facing back at the slaves. The dwarf from earlier had one shackle dangling and the strangest contraption she had ever seen in his hands. That explained the bolts, sort of. Now the Antaam was nervous. Nerves made people sloppy. Her orb flickered and jumped in her hand before settling into the form of a dagger. She held both up in front of her defensively, watching the man’s eyes dart side to side. Her shoulder was white hot pain, but she pushed it down and advanced slowly. 

For his part, the guard wasted no time swinging at her. It earned him punching bolts from the dwarf, but it forced her on the back foot. Her blades bounced off his shield with grating strikes, the magic sparking and dancing along the metal. If she could get one proper hit with her mageknife, she could detonate the fizzing energy. He let out a grunt, his knee buckling as a heavy bolt punched into it. She hooked her crackling knife on the shield and tore it to the side, punching the mageknife into his chest. The magic sucked at the lightning sparking along his body before it exploded out of the blade. It threw her back and she landed heavily on the street. The heavy thud of the Qunari collapsing followed shortly after. With a giddy laugh of disbelief, she fell back to the street, blades clanging to the ground and smoking from the magic. And then a shadow fell over her and she almost screamed, about to let loose enough curses to kill a sister. Viago’s furious face loomed over her, a sharp knife in his hand.

“Mirenna de Riva, what have you done?” He hissed, voice laced with a cold rage.

She smudged a hand across her cheek, wincing as she carelessly touched the ugly cut. “Saved some civilians.”

His grip on her good arm was a sharp agony as he pulled her roughly to her feet. She leaned heavily on the wall the second he let go, head lolling to the brickwork. That definitely felt like a concussion. He was jabbing the knife towards her in the next instant and she watched it blandly. If he was going to kill her, that brief contact would have already sealed the deal. The knife felt almost comical and a weak laugh shook her shoulders. She winced at that, too.

“You idiot.” He was always good at making his voice sound like a whip. Usually felt like one, too. “You have no idea what you just stepped into.”

“An Antaam patrol? Vi, I think I can identify Qunari still.” Was she slurring her words? Probably fine.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, looking up to the sky as if to ask the Maker why? “No, you reckless, idiot child. You just ruined weeks of planning.”

Oh. Missing those meetings he told her to show up for had probably been a bad idea. She glanced at the huddling group of civilians still laden with chains. The dwarf was using her dagger from earlier to pry at the locks, but it was slow going. The people were scared, but they also looked at her with deep gratitude. That caused a warm flame to flicker to life in her chest.

“Shit plan that sacrifices our people like that.”

The slap he whipped across her cheek cracked loudly in the night air. It caused her to stagger, knees buckling before she slid to the ground. Maker above, it left her ears ringing. She prodded the reddening flesh, more checking to make sure the skin hadn't broken under a hidden needle or some such. It would be like him to poison her for that offense, but no. He had simply hit her. He was feeling generous. Or maybe it was concern that was making him soft. A grin stumbled across her lips and she clawed at the wall, trying to stand. Her body had other plans, pulling her further to the ground. Oh, he'd hate that. He had slapped her unconscious.  

She came to a few moments later, her world bobbing. Someone was carrying her. No, wait, someone had slung her on their back and was giving her a piggyback ride. Leather with sharp herby undertones tickled her nose. They smelled like home. She almost let out a slicing laugh of disbelief straight into Viago’s ear. Instead it was just a full body shaking wheeze. She felt his jaw twitch in displeasure.

“If you can laugh, you can walk.” He snapped.

“Poor excuse for a laugh in my opinion, sir.”

Who the fuck was that? She cast bleary eyes at the small form walking at Viago's side. It was that same dwarf who had helped her in the fight. His bizarre weapon was wrapped up in a blanket and hanging on his back. A shame, really, she wanted a good look at a crossbow with that kind of firepower. It'd be nice to have against the Antaam. He caught her eyes, giving a knowing smile.

“You liked Bianca’s work, huh?” He gestured back at the weapon. “One of a kind, sadly.”

She let out a little hum, her head lolling slightly. “Does that make me your Bianca right now, Vi?”

He dropped her suddenly, letting her crash to the street like a sack of potatoes. It set her body on fire and she gasped despite herself. He brushed his hands off on his leathers like he had been touching something filthy. She just lay there, letting the agony slowly ebb through her.

“I'd have to approve of your work, I think.” He offered dryly, looming over her again. “And I very much do not.”

He had such a knack for making his words hurt more than any knife. The sheer disappointment in his voice caused a gnawing pit to open in her stomach and she grimaced. Anyone else would be impressed a lone Crow had taken down a patrol and lived. Why couldn't he be like them? A heavy sigh escaped her as she struggled to sit up. Wouldn't be Viago if he gave her any kind of affection. Talons had to be hardasses and he had gotten a head start on that.

“I'm not going to apologize for saving people from slavery. Our people.” She huffed, standing shakily.

“Would you like to explain your reasoning to the other Talons? I'm sure they'd agree that saving a handful of strays justifies losing the intel of where and how the Antaam are shipping in their weapons and gaatlok. Of letting countless other citizens be taken and sold off because we don't know where they're being held. Of how we won't be able to strike at them like we planned because they will be waiting for it now.” His tone was pure ice.

She should have backed down at that, bowed out to his reasoning. Too bad logic had never been a close friend of hers. “I'm a stray, chalk it up to that.”

His hand twitched like he wanted to hit her again. Instead, he jabbed a finger at her face. “No, you are a Crow of House de Riva. Your every action is a reflection of your House. You have not only ruined weeks of planning between the Talons, but you may have jeopardized our standing among them.”

“Ohh,” her voice dripped with bitterness, “I'm sorry, I made you look bad. That is the greatest tragedy, you're right.”

That was a mistake, she could see it in the hard glint in his eyes. “I can't keep covering for you like this, Renn. The other Houses will want blood. How many blades must I deflect for your stupidity? How much more infighting must the Crows survive for your stubbornness? You claim it's for Antiva, but if that was true you'd keep your head down, report when told, and follow orders. You just want to play hero like a child while everyone else pays for it.”

Indignation flushed her cheeks. “Are you scolding me?”

“You act like a toddler who needs it.” He replied coolly.

“You want to act like my da so bad, go wander into the forest and get gutted like him.” She snarled, pushing past him to stalk towards the Diamond.

She had made it three steps before the regret set in, the thought of Viago dead sinking claws into her heart and leaving bloody gashes. She hated that she cared, hated how she started to turn around to try and take the words back. When her leg buckled, causing her to stagger instead, she wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse. Viago caught her arm before she could fall, forcibly keeping her standing. His face had the usual impassable scowl, the corner of his mouth twitching down as she hung there for a long moment. The words were stuck in her throat. So instead she yanked herself free, stumbling through the next few steps.

It was a long walk home, the air simmering between them. The queer dwarf followed along silently, though his brows were gently knit with concern as he glanced between the two of them periodically. Part of her wanted to ask why he, specifically, was trailing along and why it seemed like Viago was leading him straight to the Crow’s gathering place, but that would mean talking to Vi. She didn’t think she wanted to do that for the next week. When they reached the first trellis that started the road home, she hesitated.

“You gonna be able to climb that, kid?” The dwarf asked softly.

A cold calm shivered over her. “I’m a Crow.” She stated bluntly. “This is just another Tuesday.”

Without waiting for further comment, she started the agonizing climb. The man sucked air through his teeth. “Hell of a Tuesday…”

The climb was pretty bad, her gently stabbed shoulder screeching at each handhold. The ziplines weren’t much better, but she could at least loop her cape around the bar in an attempt to spread her weight better. She landed with staggering steps on the Diamond’s rooftop balcony, barely resisting the need to collapse in a heap. Viago landed silently and stalked past her without a glance.

“Find Teia.” Was all he offered her. “Mr. Tethras, follow me. We’ll discuss your business inside.”

The dwarf did look her way, offering a weak smile. “Sorry, kid.”

And then he too was gone, disappearing into the golden light that spilled from the stairs. She leaned against the wall, letting the cool stone press into her cheek. Tonight wasn’t supposed to be like this. She just wanted to go for a run, to have a few hours to herself. Vi was right, she was an idiot. She left a smear of blood behind on the wall as she pushed herself into motion, staggering past the other Crows gathered outside. A few cast curious glances at her state, but no one even twitched a finger to help her. That wasn’t unusual, but it did make her a bit more bitter.

When she did finally stumble inside the Diamond, Teia was waiting for her. The Crow ducked under her good arm, wrapping her own around the mage’s waist and supporting her further in. Renn melted into the touch, an ugly sob trapped in her throat. She had almost died, run herself ragged to save a bunch of people she didn’t even know, and that one stupid act of selflessness might’ve doomed Viago. She owed him better than that.

The Seventh Talon pulled her off to a side room where medical supplies were laid out next to a water basin; the makeshift infirmary of the Diamond. She collapsed in the chair, huffing for a moment in a vain attempt to school herself back into order. It partially worked. As Teia soaked a towel in the basin, she began shucking off her leathers. They stuck agonizingly to her shoulder, forcing her to slowly peel the ruined material away. She’d need stitches, probably for the aching cut on her cheek, too. Teia crouched in front of her, starting the arduous process of cleaning the wound. She at least had a soft touch.

“I fucked up, T.” She wobbled out, resting her face in her free hand.

“I know, little wren.” The Talon’s voice was soft, but there was a note of disapproval hidden in it.

It made her throat squeeze shut, strangling her words. “How do I fix it?”

“Vi will handle it.”

“He shouldn’t have to.” Her voice was a hoarse whisper.

The pressure on her shoulder tightened, but she leaned into that touch, too. She had earned that pain. It disappeared almost instantly as Teia returned to her ministrations.

“I think it’s a bit late for that sentiment, Renn.”

Her next breath was shaking, barely disguising how close she was to crying. “If he presents me to the Talons for punishment-”

“You know he never would.” Teia cut in sharply.

“He should. It was my fuck up.”

“And his responsibility to keep you updated and under control. It looks bad if he takes the blame, it looks bad if he throws you to the Crows. He has survived worse than a shameful underling and he'll survive this too.” Teia pressed her shoulder back against the chair, holding up a hooked needle. “You are far from the worst thing to happen to House de Riva.”

With trembling fingers, she tried to conjure a small flame. The magic sputtered and fizzled. The Talon pressed her lips into a thin line, leaning over to use a candle instead.

“You used too much magic.” It wasn’t a question.

A wobbling laugh slipped free. “Yeah, used a bunch to make a stupid jump then had to fight six Antaam. Fingers feel all numb and tingly still.”

“He warned you not to do that.” She pressed, needle biting into the young Crow’s flesh.

Renn flinched slightly, watching the process numbly. “It’s not that much nerve damage and I won’t feel it for a few more years. The work now is more important.”

“I wish you hadn’t picked up his stubborn workaholic streak.” The Talon sighed.

Her mouth quirked with a weak smile. They sat in silence as the wound was dealt with, Teia’s stitching even and clean. The mage pulled in a steadying breath before turning her sliced cheek to face the woman. She hated face injuries. They hurt the most. She tried to disconnect herself from the moment, focusing on better things. The warm sweet rolls from the market, strong coffee before a stake out, that euphoric moment of hanging in the air mid jump. It barely dulled the pain, but it let her sit still for the process. When she was finished, Teia took her hands in her own and gently massaged her fingers. It was a vain attempt to coax feeling back into them.

“Thanks, T.” She offered up softly.

“I’d like to stop stitching you back together, little wren.” Her mouth slanted unhappily with worry.

“I think you’d need to clip my wings for that.”

“Don’t give Vi any ideas.” She shook her head, hair bouncing with the motion. “You can go see if he’s done with his meeting. I have letters to start.”

Guilt gnawed at her as the Seventh Talon slipped away. She’d made a proper mess this time. Instead of looking for trouble, she stood on wobbly legs and walked to the water basin. She spent long minutes washing the blood from her leathers, squeezing them dry and patting them down with a towel before wrapping herself back up. She couldn’t do much to hide the stitches on her cheek, but she could cover every other injury up. She almost laughed at the notion. It was another quirk she’d inherited from Viago, the need to hide behind thick leathers and cloth as if they’d dull any blade diving for their backs. It did make her feel a little better though.

With her feet only dragging a little, she shuffled her way back out into the Diamond proper. She could see Viago and the dwarf still talking at the long table stashed in a large alcove. The smaller man was more animated, hands gesturing up and down as he talked. Viago was still as always, only his face changing with small twitches and scowls as the discussion continued. Interrupting that was maybe the worst idea she could have. So instead, she pulled herself up into the rafters of the casino with a grunt, her shoulder protesting again. She liked it up there, the golden light lost to the gloom in the dome at night. Voices bounced in curious octaves, murmurs crawling along and whispers tickling your ears. It felt like a place of secrets. With quiet steps, she crept along the rafters until she was over the table, laying down flat on her stomach so she could hear better.

“... this mage is a problem, sir. If you have any Crow to spare, someone who can help find and deal with him, maybe the-”

“My House is the wrong one to come to for this.” Viago interrupted sharply.

“I tried to find the famed Mage Killer, but I got turned away at every door.”

That caused the Fifth Talon’s eyes to tighten, his jaw twitching. There was more to that, Renn noted. Viago knew something. She leaned a little closer, hoping to catch a snippet of a whisper maybe, something that would reveal just what he knew about the First Talon’s best assassin.

“House Dellamorte is expensive, even by your standards. Your mark seems nebulous at best, as well. Claiming an Elven god disguised as a Dalish mage is trying to plunge the world into chaos by tearing open the Fade sounds ludicrous.” Viago’s tone was dismissive. He wanted this conversation over with forever ago and his patience was slipping.

“I know how it sounds, I’ve been spouting it for months now while trying to find him. But no one wants the world filled with demons and wild magic, trust me.” The dwarf sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’ll be in town for a week or so. If you can think of anyone who can help, a Crow you wouldn’t mind letting loose for a bit, I’ll pay good coin. I’m good for it, my title backs it up. I’ll stop by again before I leave the city, if that’s all right.”

Viago gave a minute shrug. “A wild goose chase is expensive, Mr. Tethras.”

“Good thing I’m not hunting a goose.” He sighed, offering the Talon a wave as he turned to leave.

Viago watched him go silently before his eyes turned to the papers on the table. Probably details about the potential contract. She was too far to read those, especially as he picked them up to shuffle through them. After a long moment, he crooked a finger up towards the rafters, beckoning. She swallowed thickly. Her usual smooth movement to dismount the beam to the floor below almost dropped her unceremoniously on her face as her shoulder refused to hold her weight. She barely caught herself on the edge of the table with her good arm, leaning on it in a poor attempt to cover the fall casually.

“You,” he started bluntly, pointing at her, “are to return to the apartments and stay there until I say otherwise.”

She spluttered at that, wanting to argue. She was one of the best earners for the House. She did terribly with idle time. Locking her up in her room was akin to torture. She didn’t voice a single one of those thoughts, mutely nodding. Disobeying his orders was what had caused this whole nightmarish evening. She was still furious at the plan, still wanted to scream at him over how cruel it all was. But they were both stubborn, so she stayed silent. It caused him to raise an eyebrow at her.

“Not even a single note of protest?”

She shrugged, wincing at the gesture. “I got banged up. I can mope in my room for a few days about it.”

His eyes fell back to the contract in his hand. “Off with you then.”

She didn’t need another warning, disappearing in the next breath. She was exhausted and crawling into a proper bed sounded heavenly. It would be easier to sneak a peek at that contract when he wasn’t studying it like his latest potentially poisoned meal. Besides, he couldn’t keep her in the apartments forever. She was a pain in the ass, but she was an effective pain in the ass. No one could keep up with him like she could.

Limping along, she stuck to the busier streets instead of the rooftops, dawn starting to color the sky. The apartments Viago had paid for were only a few blocks away from the Diamond, a collection of rooms for the handful of de Riva Crows that followed him from Salle to Treviso. Plenty of the fledglings stayed at the Diamond, but the proper assassins preferred their own home base. Especially assassins who belonged to a House like de Riva. Poison maniacs, the lot of them, without an ounce of trust in their veins. She gave a brief greeting to the kitchen staff, accepting a warm sweetroll from one of the chefs. Fifty-fifty on it being laced with something, but turning them down was a harder fight.

The door to her room opened on silent hinges, but she stepped over a poorly hidden tripwire waiting for her. They had to at least make it look like they tried to kill each other or they weren’t real Crows or something. The poisoned darts were a nice present from whoever had left her the surprise. A simple once over of her bed revealed a strange dusting on the pillow that she shook loose out the window. At least they had kept it simple. She collapsed in the soft embrace of her bed, the exhaustion claiming her almost instantly.

She spent the next few days in a slight daze of recovery. Simple exercises to keep her ruined shoulder from getting stiff, lighter magic usage to avoid letting her system get too used to the lack of it, and she even went back to distilling fresh poisons when the boredom set in properly. At the start of week two with no word, she took to feeding Viago’s snakes for the house staff just to have something to do outside her room. When that got old, she took to trimming and harvesting her little garden of poisonous plants strewn around the windows. Week three she felt like she might die from the lack of things to do. She was hanging halfway off her bed, head dangerously close to the floor when the air in the room shifted.

“Please tell me you have a job for me, Vi.” She whined, flailing a hand into the air.

“In a sense.” His voice came from the other side of the bed, not a single noise to his steps as he entered the room.

“Oh, that’s ominous.” She pulled herself upright back into the pillows. Part of her still simmered when she looked at him, another part screaming at her to apologize for what she had said that night. She was obstinate to both feelings. “What’s my doghouse assignment? Please tell me it’s not canal work again.”

“You’re going to leave Treviso for a while.” He started carefully.

“You can’t.” She shot back instantly, disbelief sharp. “We’re being occupied! I’m needed here-”

“You are needed where I say you are.” He snapped. “You angered a lot of people. It’s better if you aren’t lingering here to tempt any blades.”

“You’re sweeping me under the rug.” She couldn’t keep the betrayal from her voice, before a heart wrenching thought occurred to her. “When can I come back?” Can I come back?

“It’s a contract. Finish it and you can come home.” 

“What…” she faltered for a moment, “what’s the mark?”

“An elven god.” He offered blandly, passing her the official write up. It was signed in a sweeping hand. Varric Tethras. “Be ready to go within the hour.”

And then he was gone, leaving her with a contract that seemed impossible to finish. Elven gods weren’t real. He was kicking her out of her only home. It would have hurt less if he had simply buried a knife in her heart and moved on. Better to die a Crow than be cast aside. Was this supposed to be a mercy? A cruel, numbing draught to forget her with? She crumpled the pages to her chest, furious and despairing. Varric Tethras was going to regret making this contract.

[get-caitjinxed]

oh? a new chapter of like an animal?

[its-jaytothemee]

Until I Met You - Chapter 38

Chapter 38: Balance

Pairings: Halsin x Tav

Word count: 5,173

Rating: Currently M, will be Explicit in later chapters.

Chapter 1

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Summary: The tadfools learn about the purpose of Astarion's scars. Arabella comes to terms with her parents' deaths. Part 37 of the slow burn fic. Tav, Astarion, and Halsin POVs.

Tags: Slow burn, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff, eventual love confessions, eventual smut, angst, implied past rape/non-con and abuse, graphic description of injuries, brief suicidal thoughts.

A/N: Chapters 37 AND 38 are being posted today!! Have a couple of fun camp chapters before we go back to the Gauntlet :)

Astarion kept his eyes fixed on Tav as she turned away.

My name is Ria…

He recalled a story, one that graced a handful of editions in the Baldur’s Mouth Gazette and other lesser tabloids in the city. A silver-haired beauty, fleeing from a lavish engagement party, shooting many attendees and even family members in the process. Hers was a name he remembered well; a name that had given him hope. A name that had allowed him to live vicariously through her daring escape.

Tav’ahria Mendelre.

He had only met Lady Mendelre once and “met” was perhaps a strong word for the encounter.

It was a particularly terrible evening with Cazador. Not that there were any good evenings with him, but this one stuck out among many of the events where he was dragged along as his personal escort.

There was an event at Wyrm’s Rock, some celebration of sorts that he couldn’t be bothered to remember the details of. He remembered a young elf, no older than forty, dancing and laughing with another young man. Her long, white hair twirled to the same rhythm as her dress. The red and orange fabric looked like flames swirling out around her ankles each time she was spun under the man’s arms.

Cazador’s eyes had been drawn to her immediately. Astarion had recognized that predatory stare that haunted most of his dreams. His nightmares.

Now, his master wasn’t so stupid as to make her a target. There was a reason he sent his spawn to the grimy, desolate flophouses and taverns of Baldur’s Gate. Few would miss a lonely beggar or drunkard, even if they did, they didn’t have the power to do anything about it once they were gone.

But if someone like Tav’ahria Mendelre went missing? Well, that would cause quite a stir, wouldn’t it? So that night, Cazador was likely just trying to lay on the charm, to find yet another person to help cover his tracks and line his pockets.

He had glided up to her with such confidence, the same way he approached any of his spawn or servants. But when he took her hand and gave her a low bow, she simply looked down her nose at him. A spurious smile twisted her lips as she indulged him for a moment – a picture of noble civility.

Astarion watched from a distance as Lord Mendelre came to his daughter’s side, not even bothering with a polite look as he sneered back at Cazador.

For the first time since he had been turned, he had the pleasure of watching someone have power and influence over his cruel master. And it was delightful. Everyone in the city knew hers was not a family you crossed. Not unless you wanted to have an unfortunate "accident" conveniently cleaned up by the City Watch the next day.

As he was lost in the sensation of seeing Cazador’s embarrassment, he had let a small laugh slip out at the sight. He paid dearly for that little lapse in judgement.

Cazador had pulled him close, keeping a bruising grip on his arm for the rest of the night, the harsh movement but a drop in the sea of pain that would follow. But what Astarion really remembered was how Lady Mendelre had smiled at him. The first in decades to look at him like a person instead of an object. The smile she aimed at him wasn’t the fake, polite smile she had flashed at Cazador, but one that was bright and warm.

A smile not unlike the one he had just seen from Tav.

Honestly, Tav. If you truly wanted to hide your identity you shouldn’t have just shortened your name again. You could have at least dyed your hair, you idiot.

He fought an eye roll at the thought. Though he supposed there were few people left who would have known about that night, especially among their group of adventurers. Of course, all of this could be just another bizarre coincidence, but he felt that they were running short on those.

Astarion bit back the quips and teases he felt on the tip of his tongue. Every part of him itched to poke and prod her, try to get her to admit something, anything. He still felt that instinct tugging at his mind to find any information that he could hold and use against her. After all, ties to the Mendelre family were not the most innocent of connections to have.

But those thoughts melted away when she turned back around and smiled at him.

Yes. Yes, I remember that smile now.

Strangely enough, he believed Tav when she said he owed her nothing. But he would do this favor for her regardless.

Your secret is safe with me, my friend.

***

The first thing Halsin saw when he arrived back at camp was Tav sitting with Astarion by the fire. She looked much better than when he left her there this morning. Karlach and Shadowheart were close behind him. Each of them had one of Gale’s arms slung around their necks helping him walk back to camp.

Both Astarion and Tav shot concerned looks their way as their companion was practically dragged between the two women over to the fire.

“I must say, you are looking rather healthy compared to when I saw you last, Tav.” Gale’s words were slurred as he tried to point a finger at her. Shadowheart let his arm drop as they approached.

“Good gods, Gale.” Tav held her arm up over her nose as his breath puffed out in a stiff, alcoholic cloud. “Are you…are you drunk?”

“Ah, yes. ‘Twas a creature in the old distillery, redolent of a liquor stronger than I could imagine,” he said with great effort. “He asked for stories in exchange for drink, and I was most inclined to acquiesce his requests. Even before I met you lot, I had plenty a tale to titillate the bystanders among even the most minacious of Waterdeep taverns. I have been known in my time to deescalate brawls in such establishments, talking its participants down with no scarcity of aplomb.”

“You sure they didn’t just get bored by your yapping and leave?” Karlach still had one arm around his waist to steady him.

“Gosh,” Gale threw his hand over his chest, offended, “I know my ears must be deceiving me. Surely you wouldn’t question those abilities after you bore witness to my talents in such circumstances?”

“Where do you store all these fancy words when you’ve been drinking, wizard?” she cackled as she helped him to a seat by the fire.

“Well, let me ponder that rumination for a moment, my friend.” Gale held a finger to his lips, lost in fake thought. “After careful deliberation I do believe that I have arrived at the supposition that I store them up your ass.”

Another bout of roaring laughter rang from Karlach. “Fuck me, that was some strong stuff he was serving you.”

“Yes, well, needless to say I shall be sticking to my carefully curated selection of fine wines from here on out.”

“Care to translate that for us?” Tav turned to smile at Halsin.

“We met two more cursed beings in town. One in the distillery and one in the old tollhouse.” Tav scooted closer to Astarion on the log they were sharing so Halsin could sit next to her. “They were much like you described the doctor from the House of Healing.”

“How so?” She rested a hand on his back, rubbing slow, small circles between his shoulders.

A welcome relief after their exhausting day. Halsin still hadn’t quite adjusted to the adventuring life, especially now that he was spending each day in battles and fighting through any other perils they found in between. It had been some time since he had gone in and out of his wild shape so many times in a day, not to mention the enervation of his constant spellcasting – whether it be for healing or used against their foes.

“These beings still maintained more of their sentience. Both of them spoke to us, talking about guarding the Thorm family’s secrets.” Halsin recalled their fights with both large monstrosities with Tav and Astarion. One filled to burst with a strange brew, the other coated head to toe in gold and demanding more.

“WHAT DO YOU BRING?!” Karlach shouted in a mocking voice, startling a yelp out of them. She and Wyll just laughed. Halsin felt Tav’s hand drop from his back, and he hoped the disappointment wasn’t too plain on his face.

“Well,” Tav responded once she caught her breath again, “I’m glad to see you all made it back safely at least. Did you–”

She stopped mid-sentence and sat up a little straighter.

“Please tell me my head injury isn’t fully healed and that’s why I smell sulfur,” Tav groaned.

“Do you know what happens when a devil is struck down on this charming plane of existence?”

The sound of Raphael’s voice caused everyone to throw their heads back in exasperation.

“It returns to the hells – to the very point where it last stood before venturing to whichever devilforsaken plane it died on. In the case of our mutual friend Yurgir, he manifested in my House of Hope.” Raphael held his hands out to inspect his nails, projecting nonchalance.

“A deal’s a deal, devil,” Astarion snapped, standing up to glare at him. “We killed your orthon, now tell me what you know about these scars.”

“Tut, tut,” Raphael’s smooth, crooning voice made Halsin’s skin crawl. “I find that the foreplay is almost better than the deed itself. The anticipation, the buildup, the–”

“We’ve had more than enough buildup, Raphael,” Tav interrupted. “You’ve kept him waiting long enough. Why didn’t you come yesterday once you knew the orthon was dead?”

“Oh, little flower, I heard you had gotten hurt. Surely you do not think I would let you miss something as delicious as this.” Raphael winked at her before turning his attention back to Astarion.

Little flower.

Once again, Halsin saw Tav flinch away from his words. The first time he saw the devil in Last Light, he thought he had imagined it.

“Brace yourself vampling and listen close as I reveal your destiny.”

***

Tav watched Astarion pace in front of them once Raphael had left. He was muttering to himself and making erratic hand gestures.

The Rite of Profane Ascension.

Raphael’s reveal of his scars’ purpose left Tav with her skin feeling prickly and gross. He said Cazador would have to sacrifice a “number” of souls…but how many?

“Astarion?” Tav called out gently.

He whipped around to face her, a manic look in his eyes.

“Talk to us. What are you thinking?” She kept her voice soft.

“I…I don’t know,” he stammered. “If what Raphael said was true, I would have expected Cazador to send more lackeys to hunt me down. So far, all we’ve seen is one Gur.”

“Well, we are in the midst of the shadow curse,” Halsin offered. “As you’ve seen, it is a difficult land to traverse. The Underdark is not much safer, either. Perhaps they were felled before they could make it to you.”

“Or perhaps the tadpole is preventing Cazador from being able to locate you?” Wyll chimed in next.

“Perhaps…” Astarion started pacing again.

“I don’t know that I would put so much stock in luck, my friends.” Gale’s words were still a bit slurred. “At least if our previous experiences are anything to go on.”

Small nods and grumbles of agreement sounded among them.

“Regardless, I knew he wouldn’t leave me alone even when I was just another one of his wretched toys. Now…” Astarion let out a frustrated grunt. “If I’m the key to this power he craves, he’ll hunt me to the ends of Faerûn and beyond.”

Tav nodded slowly, realizing before he even said his next words what he was going to ask.

“If I won’t be free while he’s alive, I suppose I’ll just have to kill the bastard.” He turned to face Tav again. “And I’m going to need some help.”

She froze, the panic likely obvious on her face. The fact of the matter was that Cazador Szarr lived in Baldur’s Gate. A city to which she had never planned on returning.

“Don’t worry Fangs,” Karlach came up and put a hand on his shoulder, “we’re not going to let Cazador touch you again. Right, sis?”

Tav remained still, thinking through her options as everyone looked at her expectantly. The guilt she felt gnawing at her for her hesitation was immediately doubled by the look of disappointment on Astarion’s face.

“Of course we aren’t, Astarion.”

He relaxed a little, but still looked skeptical.

“I’m sorry, this is just a lot to take in, is all.” Tav joined Karlach at his side. “You know I won’t let him hurt you again if I can help it.”

“You hesitated.” Astarion stared her down.

“I…I haven’t been back to Baldur’s Gate in a very long time. Honestly, I had never planned on returning.” Tav took a deep breath. “But I would go back to help you, love.”

Another flash of distant recognition crossed his features, less fleeting this time as he studied her face.

“I appreciate that, Tav.” He relaxed after a moment. “We need to find out about the ritual. If we can get to the city, perhaps we can learn more. And who knows…”

Astarion’s expression darkened, a look that sent a chill down her spine.

“Perhaps there could be an opportunity for me to take his place.”

Tav had no idea what his ritual would cost, she still didn’t quite understand its full purpose. But she had a feeling that letting Astarion complete it would be unwise.

“One thing at a time, love.” It was the only thing she could think to say.

“You’re right, of course. I’m getting ahead of myself.” Astarion waved a hand in the air. “Still…the thought of being able to walk in the sun again…without a mind flayer parasite…”

He stared off into the distance, wearing a soft smile. The look on his face was so hopeful…

Tav hated thinking that she might have to squash that hope.

Astarion started to walk toward his tent, still looking pensive. When he was about halfway there, he turned back around.

“Thank you, again.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t have any of this information without you. Without any of you.”

She smiled in response, feeling a small wave of relief hearing such sincerity from him. Seeming a bit embarrassed, he disappeared into his tent.

“Are you okay?” Halsin nudged her arm.

“Of course,” Tav sighed. “Just…just a little worried about him.”

He nodded, staring after Astarion alongside her.

“It’s just…no matter the outcome, completing such an intricate, ancient ritual given by a devil seems risky to say the least. And not just a devil, Mephistopheles himself.”

“I’m inclined to agree.”

Tav’s heart rate quickened, and her eyes welled up.

“And what if we find the Absolute here at Moonrise? What if we find a way to be rid of these tadpoles?”

Halsin arched an eyebrow at her.

“How will he be able to face Cazador without the tadpole? I’m worried that he’ll just be compelled back into slavery.” Tav choked back tears at the thought. She felt Halsin tug her close to his side.

“One problem at a time, my friend.” He let out a deep breath after speaking.

If only our ever-growing list of problems would follow that advice.

***

An air of trepidation hung over the camp after their most recent encounter with Raphael. The reveal of the purpose of Astarion’s scars had left them all feeling a touch more dejected than earlier in the day.

The shout Halsin heard across camp did nothing to help that mood.

Arabella was speaking to Withers; the conversation had turned rather heated.

He jogged behind Tav over to the pair. The young tiefling’s face was twisted with anger and grief.

“They’re dead…”

“Listen,” Withers spoke in his hushed, unhurried tone. “Thou must find the balance within.”

“No…I can’t…”

Halsin and Tav had reached her side. She reached out for Arabella as she sobbed.

“No!” Arabella screamed again as a wave of energy slammed into them, sending Tav stumbling backward.

“Listen! Dost thou not hear it?” Withers called out to her. “Where creation meets ruin, where morning meets midnight – the root of all being.”

Arabella continued to take heaving breaths. Halsin could just make out her hands trembling.

“Balance.” Withers had softened his tone once more.

“Balance,” Arabella sighed, tears still streaking her face.

Halsin could feel the raw, untamed power radiating from her. Her magic as wild as the source from which it came, and heavy with the grief she felt at her loss.

“The girl must learn to control her arcane abilities – but she shan’t remain here to do so.” Withers turned to address Tav.

“Excuse me?” Tav whipped around to glare at him. Halsin hung his head, already knowing what he was going to say.

“Arabella’s power is unbalanced, she holds abilities beyond reckoning. Her power was born of the decaying forest, and the seedling that bore it.”

Despite his best efforts, it seemed Arabella’s magic had indeed been touched by the Shadow Weave. As hard as it was to admit, it was a distant hope that he could have prevented it. Growing one’s powers in a cursed place such as this was bound to have lasting effects.

“Once thou dost leave these accursed lands, Arabella will depart from thee.”

The young tiefling ran over to Tav, wrapping her arms around one of her legs. Her soft sobs were muffled by her pants, her tail curling loosely around Tav’s ankle.

“I’m not sending her out alone.” Tav held her glare as Arabella continued to cling to her.

“THOU MUST!” Withers shouted back, startling both her and Halsin.

“Bone Man, you’re making me leave?” Arabella sniffled back at him.

“Thou hast nothing to fear, girl. The Weave knows thy purpose and shall provide. It will guide thee, if thou dost listen.” Withers had returned to his normal soft cadence of speaking. He held his hand out for a moment and closed his eyes.

Halsin felt Arabella’s anguish, once heavy and unyielding, start to float away. A light came down to cover the dark power within and cloak her in its warmth.

Tentatively, she let go of Tav before looking around in wonder.

“Is that my future?” she asked softly. “Is that why they died?”

“It is,” Withers replied with a nod of his head.

“It’s wonderful…” Arabella looked all around her, watching the pieces of her future invisible to the rest of them.

The warmth he felt began to fade as she absorbed the feeling into her own power.

Then, he heard a familiar giggle.

Thaniel and Oliver popped out of the nearby trees to stand beside Arabella.

“Don’t be scared, little tiefling,” Thaniel laughed.

“Yeah, you’ll be back here soon, and we can play again! We’ve seen it!” Oliver said with a smile.

“Remember,” Thaniel reached out to take one of her hands, “if you open your heart, nature will listen. Let the light guide your way.”

“The shadow will always be there,” Oliver warned, “but you can wield the light to keep it away.”

Halsin watched in awe, realizing Arabella’s new purpose had taken on a deeper meaning than he had originally thought. A piece of the shadows would live on in her forever, securing them away from the world. Should she learn how to control it, how to find balance with the light within her, she could prevent them from ever returning.

It would seem that the Oak Father had chosen an anchor of sorts. A heavy burden, but one he had no doubt Arabella would be well suited for.

“Arabella…” Tav knelt to her level.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you so much.” Arabella turned with a smile on her tear-stained face.

“Don’t apologize, love.” Tav held her arms open, and Arbella threw herself into them. “I’m sorry you won’t be able to stay with us.”

“That’s okay,” she sniffled into her shoulder. “As long as there are people like you around, maybe everything will be alright.”

Once she let go of Tav, she came over to Halsin.

“Thanks for trying to teach me. I guess I have to do some more learning before we can practice together again.”

“I look forward to it, little one.” He held out a hand to her, but she wrapped her arms around his waist instead.

Halsin heard the small sniffles from Tav as Arabella let go of him.

“And thank you, Bone Man. For being…nice.”

Withers gave her a small nod of his head. Tav pointedly avoided his gaze as she followed Arabella across camp.

Halsin knew that Tav would have trouble accepting Arabella’s new path. It was difficult enough for him and he had a more fundamental understanding of why she would have to walk it alone.

“You’ve helped her a great deal,” he said to Withers after Arabella had walked away.

“Where matters of balance are concerned, thou shall find me.” He spoke in his typical quiet, deliberate tone.

“Were my instincts correct? Is she to serve Silvanus? Preventing the shadows from returning by concealing them within her own power?” Halsin asked, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice.

Withers’ lips twitched into what he could only assume was a smirk.

“The girl shall be a light in darkness, and the weight to tip scales back to their proper balance. So I have spoken, so it shall be.”

A cryptic answer from our resident riddle master. What else did you expect?

Halsin took the finality in his tone to mean they were done speaking, so he made his way back to his tent so he could at last change out of his armor. His arms continued to ache from the previous day and his eyes already stung with the need for rest, but he still felt jittery.

Rather than turning in early, he grabbed his whittling tools and a chunk of wood he had been chipping away at. He went back to the center of camp to work by the light of the fire. The others were still milling around, chatting about the day.

Tav and Karlach stood with Arabella, Karlach sharing Tav’s sour expression as she likely filled her in on Withers’ orders. He watched as Tav pulled a small neckalce from her bag and held it out to Arabella. She took the trinket in her hands before staring back up at Tav, tears shining in her eyes once more. She threw her arms around her waist and held the locket up to her chest. Tav walked around to help secure it around her neck so she could run off to play.

Despite it all though, Arabella looked happy. Like she had already embraced her new purpose. Among the worry and sorrow he felt at the thought of her leaving, Halsin still had hope. He hoped that she would find the balance within. That she would find the peace she needed from her grief and hardship.

It wasn’t long before Thaniel and Oliver came to join her again, speaking soft enough that he couldn’t make out their words.

Arabella was giggling at something Thaniel said to her. A nostalgic ache seized his chest watching them play. Part of him wished she could remain here, learning from him and Oliver, but it would be some time before this land healed. Too long for her to remain here and risk warping her power further.

The sound of someone clearing their throat pulled his attention away.

“I wondered if I might hear your opinions on our little friend’s abilities.” Halsin looked up to see Gale standing in front of him. He seemed to have sobered up a bit. Shadowheart must have finally taken pity on him.

“I’m still not quite sure what to make of them, if I can be honest,” he sighed. “To have been blessed from the idol, she indeed would have needed to win Silvanus’s favor. But the way Withers spoke…”

He shook his head, still trying to make sense of Arabella’s place in all of this.

“He speaks as though she is an anchor of sorts. But those are typically chosen by Mystra, not the other gods. I do not know how or why the Oak Father would attempt to make her one in his stead.”

“Mystra will not take kindly to another god attempting to anchor the Weave.” Gale took a seat next to him on the ground.

“I don’t know that he is attempting to anchor the Weave itself within her. This curse was a horrible blight on this land, Gale. Locking Thaniel away for a century, shrouding what was once a sanctuary in darkness.” Halsin took a deep, steadying breath, not wanting to let his anger get the best of him. “It was a slight against Silvanus himself and something tells me he simply wants to prevent it from happening again. Even if it means causing Mystra some grief.”

“Bah,” Gale waved his hand dismissively. “Honestly, Mystra needs to get her magical knickers in a twist every now and then. It doesn’t take much, I’m afraid. I think she needs to be reminded from time to time that her followers aren’t the only ones who rely on the Weave.”

Halsin could hear his tone souring with every word. “Regardless, I am sure there was some level of negotiating that had to happen between them to make this a reality.”

“I hope for her sake that’s true.” Gale’s voice had quieted. “Mortals who have their souls fought over by the gods do not tend to be long for this world.”

Halsin spared another glance at Arabella, still playing with Oliver, Thaniel, and now their animal companions across camp. He hoped that she could at least enjoy the time she had left in her childhood before the crushing weight of responsibility fell on her shoulders.

“Perhaps Mystra favored this outcome as well. After all, she has no love of the Shadow Weave, or Shar, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Oh, you are very correct, my friend,” Gale chuckled. “She does not approve of wizards pulling from the Shadow Weave. After all, Shar did at one point seek to replace the Weave with her own distorted version of it. Even I must exercise caution in my spellcasting while we remain in these cursed lands, lest I draw from the wrong side.”

“Then I suppose that would be our best hope for our young friend.”

Gale contemplated his next words carefully.

“If that is the case, I would not be surprised to find her receiving an unexpected visit from Elminster.”

“Is that so?” Halsin set aside the chunk of wood he had been whittling. He had finally gotten the curve of it just right, but his hands were starting to cramp.

“Oh yes,” he smiled, but it was a sad and pensive look, “I was a year younger than her when he first came to me. I had just conjured a fireball of sorts, destroying a rose bush. I hid behind my mother’s skirts, sure I was to be taken away for my crime. Elminster simply smiled and assured me they would grow back.”

“I do not know much of Elminster aside from the legends told of him.” Halsin took a shaky breath. “Will he help her? Will he look after her?”

Gale considered the question for a moment. “He will help and guide her to the best of his abilities. Despite my own…shortcomings, Elminster was a good friend and an even better teacher. The rest will be up to her.”

“Then we shall have to trust in our gods’ judgement, and hope she is up to the task.”

“Something that’s easier said than done for me of late.” Gale’s eyes had grown distant as he stared into the flames.

Halsin reached up to rest a hand on his shoulder.

“Well, thank you for indulging me, Halsin,” Gale slapped his knees as he stood up. “I suppose we’ll just have to admire her efforts from afar for now.”

“Anytime, my friend.”

Gale’s company was quickly replaced by Tav and Karlach’s.

“Whatcha makin’ bear man?” Karlach had plopped on one side of him with Tav on the other.

He glanced at the tools and piece of wood sitting at his feet and fought the urge to glance at Tav.

“I’m not quite sure yet,” he lied. “Often times I don’t know what a piece will turn into until its well underway.”

“Oooh, mysterious,” Karlach cooed at him. He hoped his face didn’t look as warm as it felt.

“Are the two of you alright? I saw you speaking with Arabella.”

“I’m better,” Tav sighed. “I…I understand if she has to go. It doesn’t mean I’m happy about it.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna miss that little hellion.” Karlach was watching the children play.

“What was that necklace you gave her?” He turned to ask Tav.

Her eyes welled as she watched the game of chase continue before them.

“It was her mother’s. Komira gave it to me as a gift after convincing Kagha to let her go. I…I couldn’t bring myself to sell it. Something about it felt very sentimental.”

Thaniel said something indecipherable to Arabella as he pointed at the locket. He made some hand gestures that almost looked like he was casting a spell. She mimicked the movements and suddenly a few bright orbs of light burst into existence around them.

All three children shrieked with delight as they chased the lights around the camp. Scratch barked at each orb and tried to pounce at them, the light dissipating under his paws. Halsin’s chest tightened as he took one of Tav’s hands.

“Well, how wonderful it is that you were able to give Arabella something to remember her by.” He smiled watching them all play together, the lights shining around them not the only thing brightening their little camp. “And not to mention provide an endless source of entertainment it would seem.”

“That’s a good point, Hal!” Karlach stood up to chase after them as well, causing more excited screams from the kids.

“Hal?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.

“She’s trying out new nicknames for everyone,” Tav snickered.

While they enjoyed the heartwarming scene of Thaniel, Oliver, and Arabella swarming a prone Karlach, Shadowheart came over to stand in front of them, her hands crossed in front of her, thumbs nervously warring with each other.

“Okay, I’ve made my decision.” She took a deep breath.

They waited patiently for her to continue. Tav looked at Halsin, confused. He hadn’t gotten a chance to brief her on their conversations from the day. “I’m ready for the trials. Tomorrow, we’ll return to the Gauntlet.”

[oldfashionedmorphine]

hi, it’s me again, here with another small preview of my upcoming byler big bang fic:

on the same frequency

-.-. .... .- .--. - . .-. / -....

December 28, 1985

“So what about Plan B?” Lucas asks, first to break the stretch of silence after they finish eating. “Obviously I don’t wanna resort to it anymore than you guys do, but Plan A feels pretty solid now…” then he looks directly at Mike, “and you did say you wanted to be one hundred percent prepared for it just in case.”

All it took was the mere mention of Plan B for Mike to start fidgeting. “Yeah, I know what I said,” he grumbles, getting up off the floor.

“So then how’re we gonna set the trap? Like how do we get him to take the bait?”

“I don’t know.” And at this point, Mike was pacing.

Lucas and Dustin glance at each other, shrugging. It didn’t seem like either of them had any new suggestions to offer, or maybe they were waiting for Mike to throw out the first suggestion. Except Mike just kept pacing back and forth saying nothing, which was making Will even more nervous than he already was.

December 29, 1985

“Shit—sorry,” Mike whispers into his ear as he loosens his arms around him and leans away a bit, but doesn’t fully let go. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he says. And then they rest their foreheads against each other, making Will’s heart race.

“It just seemed so real and I—”

“Mike!” Dustin yells from above, causing Mike to flinch and take a step back from him. “Your mom’s making chocolate chip pancakes! Get up here!”

“We’ll be right there!” Mike shouts back.

It was impossible not to feel a little disappointed when Mike flinched away from him again. But he swallows it down, forcing a smile instead and says, “Pancakes sound good.”

🎶 a song from chapter six 🎶

rating: mature

tags: alternate universe, not canon compliant, major character death, grief/mourning, ptsd, blood and injury, supernatural elements, time shenanigans, butterfly effect, thriller, angst with a happy ending

release date: 11/26/2023

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[noxemma]

Chapter 7 for my Hot Summer Art challenge fic

Well, summer may be over, but my Hot Summer Art fic is not 😂

Dean, Cas, Sam, and Eileen finally get to enjoy a day at the beach and an evening on the boardwalk (lots of fluff and even a dash of smut thrown in)

Tags, Rating, Word Count, AO3 link, etc. at the bottom

Beside Your Side

Fic Summary: Dean convinces Sam to look into a potential case where people are going missing from a New Jersey beach town. Of course, they have to bring Cas and Eileen along, just in case it's not a monster. Dean is excited to get the case over quickly and enjoy a well-earned vacation with the people he loves the most. Nothing ever seems to go the way Dean plans it though, and this case is no exception.

Chapter 7: Picturesque (in Every Language)

Dean

Dean wakes first this time. Happiness bubbles up inside his chest making him feel like he’s floating at the memory of kissing Cas, of Cas kissing him back. The bubbles turn into molten lava when he remembers the noises Cas made while Dean sucked his cock. His own dick gives an interested twitch at the memory.

Down boy, if Sam’s not back by now he will be any second. It’d be just my luck for him to come barging in at the worst time, Dean cringes at the thought of his brother walking in on him having sex, much less sex with Cas.

His body gives an involuntary shudder, and Cas pulls him closer in his sleep, banishing all thoughts of his brother and drawing his attention back to the angel beside him.

His eyes roam Cas’ face and body, relishing the fact that he no longer has to sneak peeks or rush to avert his eyes so he doesn’t get caught.

“Cas. Baby. Darling. Honey. Sweetheart. My angel.”

Each pet name is whispered against Cas’ warm skin, sealed in with a kiss. Just because he can, just because he’s allowed to now.

Cas stirs and Dean meets his blinking eyes.

“’morning, Sunshine.” He smiles up at the sleepy angel and places another kiss on his skin for the new pet name.

“Good morning, Dean,” Cas rumbles softly, looking happy and content as he smiles down at Dean.

Dean can’t take the sheer volume of joy flooding his veins. It feels like he’s going to vibrate out of his skin or explode in a shimmer of glitter. So, before he dies of happiness in some disgustingly saccharine display, he makes a joke.

“It certainly was,” he teases, waggling his brows and licking his lips while glancing down at Cas’ woefully covered groin.

“Dean,” Cas chides and rolls his eyes.

Dean chuckles and pulls Cas into a tighter embrace which the angel reciprocates with enthusiasm. Cas’ hand goes back into Dean’s hair as if he can’t help himself. Dean sighs happily and they stay like that for a few minutes, simply enjoying each other’s embrace in the light and silence of the morning.

They might have ended staying in bed for the rest of the trip if Dean hadn’t had his ear glued to Cas’ skin and heard his stomach growl pathetically.

“We should get breakfast.”

“Hmmm,” Cas responds but Dean knows he isn’t really listening, his eyes hazy and crinkled.

“Which means we have to get out of bed,” Dean expounds, prodding Cas lightly in the side.

“Do we have to.” It’s almost a whine and Dean is about to mention his grumbling stomach when his own decides to join in, rumbling loudly in the quiet room. Cas gives a defeated sigh. “Fine.”

“I’ll make it worth your while,” Dean promises, thinking of the spread he wants to make Cas, but his thoughts turn dirty when Cas levels him with a heated gaze.

“I’m sure you will,” the angel whispers, low and suggestive, before he releases Dean and slides off the bed.

Who knew Cas would be such a tease, Dean thinks, squirming a little, his cock half hard just from those four words.

Despite having suggested it, he doesn’t leave the bed just yet, taking a few extra minutes to enjoy the way Cas’ back muscles ripple as he stretches. Cas pulls out another set of his new clothes before bending to pick up the pile of dirty clothes that was forgotten by the door.

“You start on breakfast while I shower and get a load of laundry running?” Cas asks as he arches a brow at Dean’s lack of movement.

It’s so normal, so delightfully domestic to be delegating chores, that Dean thinks he might just die from heart failure with the way his chest is tightening with overwhelming bliss.

“Y-yeah. Sounds good. You okay with eggs?”

“Sounds perfect,” Cas beams, taking Dean’s ability to breathe with him.

He finally manages to roll himself out of bed when he hears the shower turn on. He quickly discards his t-shirt and jizz crusted boxers, only just realizing how uncomfortable they are now that Cas isn’t distracting every neural pathway.

Standing naked in the room, he briefly fantasizes about joining Cas in the shower before shaking his head and pulling out clothes.

If I go in now, we really never will leave, and I want to get to the beach today.

He pads into the kitchen, humming AC/DC as he pulls butter, eggs, bread, and bacon from the fridge. Dean tries to focus on making the food, but he can’t help intrusive visions of a future he never thought he’d get to have.

Christmas as a huge family with Sam, Eileen, Jody, Donna, Alex, Faith, Claire, Kaia, Jack, Garth, and everyone else they love plays like a movie in his head as he pulls out slices of bread and looks for a juice cup. He pictures them watching movies, arguing about whose turn it is to clean or cook or do laundry as he uses the cup to cut out a circle of bread from each slice. He sets up two skillets, one for the bread and eggs and the other for the bacon.

He’s cracking eggs into the missing center of the bread and waiting for them to fry when he starts thinking of slow dancing late at night, of soft kisses once they realize they don’t have to rush, of learning each other’s bodies as well as their own. Of making love slowly with no worries of anyone walking in on them. For some reason Dean gets suck on Cas’ eyes glowing again and he curses a little that he was too caught up in finally being allowed to touch Cas and make him writhe and moan, that he didn’t focus on his eyes when he came.

I’ll have to pay more attention next time. The words ping-pong around his heart and his head like a promise and nothing has ever sounded so good to him as those two words: next time. And if I forget next time, there’ll be the time after that. Next time for the rest of our lives.

Dean finally blinks out of his daydreams at those words, shaking himself and flipping the bread and bacon before they both burn.

“The rest of our lives? Son of a bitch. I suck the man’s dick one time and I’m already thinking about marrying him. I’m so fucked,” he tells himself, but he can feel the goofy grin on his face as the brief flashes of suits and rings and carrying over thresholds that flash through his mind.

“Hmmm. That looks good. What is it?” Cas whispers into his ear as he slides up behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist and pressing his face and wet hair into Dean’s back.

“Oh! Hey there. It’s uh, it’s Egg-in-a-Nest. Used to make it for Sammy when plain old eggs and toast got boring.”

“Hmm.” Cas hums, continuing to press himself as close to Dean as he can.

Has he always been so touchy feely? Dean ponders a moment, remembering every time Cas grabbed his shoulder, stood too close, touched him to heal him, every time he leaned into Dean’s hugs, every stare that held for a little too long. He wants to bang his head when he realizes that the answer is yes, and Dean is just a blind idiot.

“Alright, these are almost done. You wanna get us some coffee and do you want to eat inside or on the porch?” Dean asks, instantly regretting it when Cas lets go of him to collect mugs.

“Porch, I think. It looks like it's going to be nice and sunny today.”

They take their breakfast to the front porch. Dean bypasses the wicker chairs and sits straight on the top step, tilting his face up and enjoying the sun.

“You were right, it’s going to be a perfect beach day,” he says, exchanging the second plate he has for one of the mugs Cas holds as he sits down next to Dean.

“This is delicious, Dean!” Cas exclaims, with a moan that sends a shiver up Dean’s spine and has him flashing back to the morning blowjob. “Cas! If you keep making sounds like that we’re going to have to eat inside otherwise someone’ll get the wrong idea and call the cops on us,” Dean admonishes, only half serious.

“Worth it,” Cas quips back, tearing off a side of the toasted bread to dip into the runny yolk center. He shoves it into his mouth before licking the bit of egg that’s dripped onto his fingers and moaning again, albeit at a slightly lower volume.

“Shit, it’s just eggs and bread, Cas. If that excites you this much, you’re gonna explode when I get to do a proper barbecue.”

“I look forward to the challenge,” Cas smiles mischievously at him before using his last bite of bread to mop us as much yolk as he can and popping it into his mouth.

Once Dean finishes his food they head back inside to clean up. Cas takes over cleaning the dishes and Dean checks on the laundry, switching it to the dryer before going and stripping the sheets off the bed and throwing them, along with his dirty pajamas, into the washer. He comes back to the kitchen then to help dry any dishes that can’t go into the dishwasher. It all feels so perfect that for a second Dean has a moment of panic.

This is way too easy. When has any relationship, hell, anything ever been this simple for me?

“Dean? Are you alright?”

“Uh, I don’t know,” Dean says, surprising himself with his own honesty.

“It’s alright. I understand if you’re … having regrets about this morning or-”

“What! No, Cas. I don’t regret this morning. Fuck, the only thing I regret is not doing that sooner. It’s just that, this, us, it’s too … easy?”

Cas laughs, loudly and deeply, leaving Dean standing in complete confusion.

“Dean,” Cas finally manages to spit out, wiping tears from his eyes, “We have known each other for years. We’ve lost each other many times over; I’ve mourned you more times than I thought possible. We’ve fought and argued and come back to being friends after being separated by Earth, Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory. And all of that, all those long years, finally brought us together as … more than friends. I wouldn’t call that easy. We have worked hard for the relationship we have.”

“I guess you’re right. I didn’t really think about it like that.” Dean rubs the back of his neck, talked out of his anxiety for the moment, but now stuck on a new issue that Cas has inadvertently brought up. “Um, so, like you said we’re not really friends anymore. I mean not just friends, so, uh, does that make us-? Would you like to be-”

“We’re back!” Sam shouts as he and Eileen burst through the front door.

Dean groans, just barely restraining himself from banging his head against the wall. He glares at his brother as he walks into the kitchen, trying to determine if he just has the worst timing in the world or if his constant interruptions are less accidental than they seem.

“You’d help me hide his body, right?”  He stage whispers to Cas, ignoring his brother entirely.

“I would if it were anyone else, but I’m too afraid of how Eileen might retaliate,” Cas replies back not even bothering to pretend to whisper.

Like what you read? You can find the whole fic here on AO3

Rating: Explicit

Chapters: 7/? (hopefully 9)

Chapter Word Count: ~12,000 (I know I'm "dingo ate my baby" crazy for that chapter length)

Tags: Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Case Fic, Established Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Beach Case, Cannon when convenient, Mutual Pining, Idiots in Love, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con (Dean and background characters), Non-Consensual Touching (Not between Dean and Cas), Hurt/Comfort, I promise it's not as dark as it sounds, Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, clueless Sam Winchester, Chick-Flick Moments, Cannon typical misunderstandings, Angst?, One day I'll learn how to tag, WIP, JackieDeeArt's Hot Summer Art 2024 (Supernatural), Hot Summer Art, Greek Mythology if you Squint, No Beta, Everyone is bad with words, Except Eileen who is the only emotionally stable person for miles, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Angel Grace Dysfunction, Poor Coping Mechanisms, There was only one bed. blow jobs, masturbation, angel grace kink?

[everyneji]

[onetimetwotimesthreetimess]

LRHWY II’s chapters would be short, she said. They would be glimpses into the next ten years of Malec’s life she said

Also, the chapter

[angy-grrr]

Bnha discussion of volume 42

So apparently next volume would be, if the leaks are correct about the number of pages, 123 pages. 123. The shortest volume in BNHA was the 7th, with 169 pages + extra CD drama + booklet.

The math:

Vol. 42 = chapters 423-430.

Number of pages: 15+15+15+15+15+15+17+16= 123

The rest of the volumes go usually around 190-200, with some going down to 180 and others going up to 220; because Horikoshi, his team and SJ (I think, I might be wrong about who exactly was involved in the decision) agreed on doing around 15 pages per chapter to ensure they will be able to finish them in time, but that doesnt mean the volumes were shorter -the last ones in fact are 200 pages long. So this is a huge jump, especially considering this is the last volume.

I wonder what exactly will be added in order to make up for this, I dont think another extra CD will be enough. I wish they gave them more time to do the chapters, it would avoid so much trouble for everyone involved -Horikoshi himself, editors, voice actors in case they decide to do another drama...

[resident-rats]

Hoping to post chapter two of my fic at the start of next week?? Currently I’m like half way through writing chapter three

[youngyoo-apologist]

New chapter is up!!

[tracle0]

Boy nearly drowns,t hen gets possessed again

[idklackingimaginationapologies2]

i love you I love you I love writers that do short paragraphs in fanfic (I have eye problems and my eyes skip around so reading big paragraphs can be painful) and writers who do short chapters in books (I have no sense of time and it's nice to regularly have a built in break point, and it gives me a shot of dopamine to finish a chapter so I can trick myself into reading more) (reading is my favourite thing to do probably but my brain hates it for some reason so I have to trick it into doing it.....even though I really love doing it???)

[runawaymun]

beneath a boundless sky chapter is like 500 words out from being done <3