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queen-scribbles · 9 months ago

Note

❛ do you remember when we first met? ❜

Tel and Elara get this one, ft a role reversal Tel is NOT very happy with me about😅 Way down the timeline, at least post-LotS, probably further ---

The dust cleared and the building had collapsed around them.

"Dorne?"

The dust cleared and they were trapped.

"Els?!"

The dust cleared and her chest hurt.

"El-" It devolved into a coughing fit, then muted chatter and the sound of shifting debris.

She opened her mouth to answer, to tell him not to move things, but he came into view before she got any sound out. (Just as well; it would probably have been a hiss of pain rather than words. Her chest hurt.)

Tel was covered in duracrete dust; peppered in his hair, smudged across his face, scuffed into his clothes. Even that wasn't enough to hide how white he went at the sight of her. That didn't bode well.

He swore and came skidding down the debris pile that had been a ridiculously fancy staircase twenty minutes ago, heedless of the detritus snagging and ripping at his clothes as he went. "Els, where's your medkit?"

"R-Right side of my pack. I think 'm laying on i-" She started to shift and the pain spiked and Tel's hand slammed into her shoulder to hold her still and she finally looked down.

A thin, dull length of metal protruded from just above the lower edge of her ribcage. "...Oh," Elara grunted.

"Don't. Move." Tel's hands were shaking as he extricated the medkit without moving her much.

"All those mornings getting... getting up when I was sleeping on top of y-you paid off," Elara teased, trying to get him to smile, it was odd to see him without a smile, she didn't... (Stars, her chest hurt.)

"Oh, yeah, there were so many of those where you didn't get up first," he deadpanned. He smiled, but it was fleeting, forced, and didn't reach his eye. "Els, you're gonna have to talk me through this, I-I don't know what I'm doing..."

She smiled shakily and reached to squeeze his hand in reassurance. "First is to see if the... impaling object goes all... all the way through." His pulse jumped in his throat and she squeezed his hand again. "You'll have to shift me a little, but-"

"Keep it to a minimum." Tel took a deep breath, coughed from the lingering dust. "I do remember that part."

He did very well, only moving her an inch or so to run his hand along her back. (He didn't joke about feeling her up. It must be bad. Or at least look bad. Her chest hurt.) From the fact whatever it was didn't press one edge of the wound, Elara knew the answer before Tel spoke.

"I think I can just feel it pressing from the inside" --he looked perturbed at the thought--"but it's not stickin' through or connected to anything in the back."

She coughed, winced. "If... if there's excessive bleeding, staunch it, but" --he wasn't going to like this part-- "unless there's no rescue coming, it's better to leave the... object on the wound."

(She wasn't thrilled about the prospect, either. Her chest hurt.)

"Els-" Tel's brow furrowed and he was paler than she'd ever seen him, even the times he'd almost died on her--not Belsavis, not Taanab, not Iokath, none of them--as he pressed one of the sterile pads from the medkit around the spike or whatever it was.

"It will minimize blood loss, and you don't know what damage removing it might cause," Elara said gently. She frowned. "Is rescue of some sort en route?"

Tel nodded, swiping a hand across his forehead. It streaked grime and blood and didn't do much good otherwise. "My comms were okay, I got in touch with Jorgan. There were other locations bombed, but this was the main target, so it's higher priority for SAR response."

"Then... it's best to keep the bleeding under... under control and leave removal for a sterile and professional environment." Breathing was an effort; maybe she had a collapsed lung? "However, kolto wouldn't... wouldn't go amiss."

"Oh. Right." Tel guided her hand to hold the compress so he could look for the injector. His hands were shaking.

It was as he dug through her medkit--she would need to reorganize that now, she mused dully--that Elara caught sight of the gash torn through his leather jacket and skin, almost the whole length of his forearm.

"Telcontar-" She started to protest, to grab his arm, but he caught her wrist and gently but firmly moved her hand back where he'd put it.

"We're worrying about you right now," he scolded, even though his arm was covered in blood, tacky with dust from shattered duracrete and plaster and had to hurt. He kissed her forehead, heedless of any grime.

His frustrated growl morphed into a bark of triumph as he finally located the kolto injector, then depressed it against her arm. The sting of the injection was quickly overridden by relief as the healing agent swirled through her.

Elara let out a breath and leaned her head back. "S'nice."

Her chest hurt. Hopefully that would ease now. Breathing was hard.

Tel's comm buzzed and he listened intently before relaying, "SAR says ten minutes for a stable opening to reach us; lucky we're in the consulate lobby or it'd be longer." His fingers traced down her jaw. "Just gotta hold on that long, okay, Els? Then you'll be in much better hands than mine."

Your hands are perfectly fine. I like your hands. "Do m'best..." Her eyes were starting to droop closed, lids too heavy to keep open. No. She forced them open even as she took a labored breath, even as Tel's hand settled over hers on the compress. "You're doing wonderfully, darling. Just... Keep me awake, long as you can," she grit out. "Keep me talking. About anything."

"Okay. Anything..." There was the briefest hesitation, fear writ across his face, then, "Do you remember when we first met?"

Of all the topics, he would pick that. She wanted to laugh, but that would hurt, so she smiled instead. "Dearest, you celebrate... the anniversary alongside our w-wedding and... and family birthdays." She groped for his free hand. "It would be impossible to forget."

"Huh, and here I was hoping you'd remember b'cause I'm irresistibly charming and easy on the eyes and made such a damned good impression as to be unforgettable."

"You certainly are that," Elara said, amusement bleeding into her voice. "And since I married you, I think it's safe to say all the other things are true, too."

Tel slipped his hand in hers. "D'you remember when that anniversary is?"

She had to wrack her brain a moment--clever man, getting her to think--but it did come to her. "Soon, isn't it? Day... after tomorrow?"

"Got it in one." Tel squeezed her hand, checked the compress. "So you better be in better enough shape by then to do somethin' fun."

"No... no promises... You might have to get creative with the something fun." She couldn't feel him squeeze her hand, only see it. That wasn't a good sign. Her chest didn't hurt and she didn't think it was from the kolto kicking in. "T-Tell Kaira and Trace--"

"Elara, no. Don't you dare." His voice was strangled, desperately fierce. "Whatever it is, you tell them yourself, sweetheart."

"I... want to..." I might not get a say. She made herself focus on his face. The freckles, the scars, cybernetics gone dim around his eyepatch, the cut on his cheekbone, red and angry even if it wasn't bleeding. The frantic determination in his eye, pale blue and so easy to read. "...but just in case..."

"Don't jinx it, sweetheart. Just a few more minutes, Els, c'mon, please." Tel's voice broke on the pleading, and he squeezed her hand again.

Elara's last conscious thought was she'd never seem him look helpless before.

---

She didn't wake up dead, so to speak, as she'd half-expected would be the result of an injury like she'd sustained. Rather, she was in a passably comfortable hospital bed--better than the Coruscant medcenter post-Gauntlet, anyway--with a dull ache in her chest and sunlight streaming through the window.

Sunlight. Daytime. The bombing had been early evening, how long...?

Movement drew her attention to the left, to Tel. He was slouched in the chair by her bed, his forearm swathed in medseal and his head lolling to the side as he dozed. He snapped upright, but almost immediately started drifting again.

Between knowing how long he could stay awake without issue and the healthy shading of stubble on his jaw, Elara felt compelled to ask, "How long is it since you slept?"

Her voice was so rough she barely recognized it.

"Four days," Tel mumbled reflexively, before it sank in who had asked and he bolted awake. "Elara-!" When she smiled bashfully, he leaned over to kiss her forehead, her nose, her lips.

Elara hummed, hand curving his jaw as she kissed him back. Her lungs ached, forcing her to pull away earlier than usual(earlier than she wanted). "You're quite a sight to wake up to," she whispered, thumb rubbing against his cheek.

"Hey, that's my line, gorgeous," Tel protested, with no real heat behind it. He kissed her forehead again. "Guess I can let you borrow it, though, seeing as you had a piece of chandelier through your chest."

The attempt at humor didn't completely reach his eye, but if he was cracking even half-hearted jokes, she would take that as a good sign. "Is that what it was?" Elara asked dryly, shifting to a slightly more sitting up position.

"Mm-hm. Cracked a couple ribs, nicked your lung, narrowly missed some other stuff. Nothin' kolto couldn't fix, but..." He took her hand and she squeezed. You scared me.

They lapsed into silence for a moment before she asked. "You said four days?" He nodded and she squeezed his hand again. "Sorry I missed the anniversary, love," she murmured. "Suppose I owe you something fun. Or at least a nice dinner."

Tel chuckled, genuine if rough with exhaustion. "S'okay. I owe you a new medkit, forgot to grab it when they got us out. So we both have somethin' to look forward to." He hesitated. "Els, I don't... You..." He rubbed his jaw, idly scratching at the stubble. "Do I scare you that badly? When..."

One side of her mouth started tipping in a wry smile as she mentally reviewed the times their positions had been reversed and Tel had been stabbed, caught in explosions, mauled by a rancor, electrocuted within an inch of his life... (Among other things.)

"Yes," she said simply, rubbing her thumb over the side of his hand. Hard truths over easy lies, always. "If... if not worse." He wouldn't have asked if he didn't want her to be honest.

He blew out a breath. "Then I'm gonna go ahead and swear to do my best to never do that to you again."

"Tel..." She wouldn't hold him to that, couldn't. She knew knew him too well. Knew his reckless streak, his drive to protect. Even if she appreciated the fact he would try. "Sweet of you. You can start by taking a shower and getting some sleep before you pass out, dearest."

He'd cleaned up, some, and the cut on his cheek was taped with a couple small patches of synthskin, but his face was still grimy around the edges, grey duracrete dust matted into his hair.

Tel smiled sheepishly and ran a hand through the mess of it, leaving sweaty tousled spikes in its wake. "Yeah, I've had a higher priority for a few days."

Elara chuckled. "Which is very sweet, and greatly appreciated. However, now your 'higher priority' would appreciate if you didn't smell," she teased. She crinkled her nose dramatically.

He gave a faux-gasp. "Is this the thanks my heroic sacrifice gets me?"

"I think you mean hygienic sacrifice, darling," she corrected with a giggle. "I'll still be here when you get back, you know."

Tel stood but seemed reluctant to let go of her hand. "Promise?"

"Promise," Elara said, tugging his hand close to kiss the back of it before letting go. "Go get cleaned up. Get some proper sleep. Doctor's orders."

"Yes, dear," Tel chuckled, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. He gave her a surveying look, relief shining clear in his gaze, and headed off down the hall.

Elara watched him go, hoping he'd actually get enough sleep. It did make something warm curl in her chest, though, that after so long together he still cared that much.

"Do you remember when we first met?"

How could I forget, when you're the best thing that ever happened to me?

#angst prompts #queens fic #telcontar airen #elara dorne #telara #otp: 73 minutes #swtor #swtor fic #i think i get a 'you tried' star for this bc the back half makes it more hurt/comfort than angst?#i'm sorry i just have to make things better when i hurt my chlldren or their significant other

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airiat · 6 years ago

Text

can you shut up for five minutes, please?

don’t let the title fool you--nothing but fluff here!

prompt taken from this post and requested by @curiousartemis

dragonborn fjoara ebonhand and her follower teldryn sero spend a night together rife with mutual pining at the retching netch. will admissions finally spill?

[F!LDB / Teldryn Sero]

word count: 1,316

**NOT canon to my fic featuring the same characters**

cw: brief sexual language

It is a leisurely night at The Retching Netch. The first one since I stepped foot on Solsthiem what seems like an era ago. Through all the trials I have endured here on this island, there has scarcely been a moment for me to catch my breath. Yet, something dares to spoil the peace of this moment.

Someone, more aptly.

I wanted nothing more than to rest my weary body and enjoy a tankard of mead, but it seems such relaxation is a luxury I cannot afford tonight. Not with my overexcited companion sitting next to me, words spilling from his mouth faster than the rapids of the White River. If I had known babysitting would have been on tonight’s itinerary, then I would have perhaps reconsidered my decision to make an appearance at the tavern. Even worse still, he is not actually intoxicated--no, my dear friend does not drink--this is just simply how he is.

“Can you shut up for five minutes, please, Teldryn?” I snap finally, slamming my mug onto the table.

“--yeah, we used to throw rocks at cliff racers for sport. Surprised none of us got kill...Did you say something, outlander?” he asks, pausing his relentless speech at last.

“Yes,” I hiss, propping my head up with my hand and closing my eyes. “Please. Stop talking...for just a moment...Gods.”

“Not up for conversation, eh? If you had wanted to get a room instead, all you needed to do was say so,” Teldryn replies. I can hear the edge in his voice. He’d like that, wouldn’t he?

When I had first hired Teldryn to be my protector and guide for the time I was to spend on Solstheim, I couldn’t possibly have accounted for how much more he would actually become to me. He is my closest friend and my truest ally. If I had never met him, I’m sure that I would be the same dewey-eyed, fearful woman I was when I first arrived here. Every moment that I spend with him helps me grow into myself with confidence and ease. I love him with the ferocity of the dragonblood that flows through my veins, with all that I am. My heart sings for him. Yet, for as loudly as I can throw my Voice at my enemies, I cannot possibly make those three simple words pass through my lips.

“Ah, yes. A room. To be rid of you. What a lovely idea,” I say, lifting my head and opening my eyes so that I can pantomime my joy at the prospect.

Teldryn laughs with genuine mirth. “Spare yourself the excitement. I’ll sleep on the floor with my bedroll as I always do. Can’t have an errant assassin slipping in during the dead of night and slaying the Dragonborn, now can we?”

“How lucky I am to have such a thorough bodyguard at my side,” I grumble.

“Oh, I can be much more thorough than this, outlander. Just give me the word,” he says, standing up from the table. Before he leaves, he catches my eye with a suggestive wink.

As I watch Teldryn find the barkeep to buy us a room for the night, I can feel the red flush blooming over my face. In the same way that I obscure my affection for him, I also obscure my desire for him. When I let my eyes linger on him for longer than what is appropriate, my mind goes wild with the thought of his large hands on my skin, his tattooed, muscular arms holding me tight against his body as we make ardent love. Such vulgar things I would let Teldryn do to me. I embarrass myself with my own thoughts, especially when I know that our flirtations are nothing more than a joke to him. What achingly little does he know about the way I feel for him.

He returns to me a few minutes later, key jingling in his raised hand. I gather my belongings and leave the table, following behind him as he leads us to our room. The patronage in the tavern has thinned out since we first arrived here, but I know there are still inquisitive eyes prying into our affairs, what they must think about Teldryn and I sharing the same room. My arrival in Raven Rock, especially because of who I am, has brought excitement into a town where there is little else to busy oneself with. Ordinarily, I would be nonplussed by the attention, enjoy it even, but I fear that it will bring notice to the truth of my love for him.

When we are finally in our room, the door shut behind us, I can allow the burn of everyone’s eyes to cauterize and slough from my skin. Yet, my relief is only temporary as I am soon reminded of who occupies this small, warm, dimly-lit space with me. How he looks at me with restraint pulled taut over the sharp planes of his face. How it seems as if something sits on the tip of his tongue, waiting for the right moment to come tumbling out.

No. Surely not. My mind plays tricks on me.

“Can I help you with your armor?” Teldryn asks after an eternity had begun and ended in the time of our silence.

I nod.

This is our intimacy. Him standing before me and undoing the buckles for my hands that often shake too much for nimbleness, lifting the plates from my battle-worn body, shedding the heavy mail that brings an ache into my bones. I am disarmed when I am with him. He absolves me from my pain and heals me of my wounds. I cannot fathom anyone else seeing me in this fragile state. How could I not love the man who does these things for me so freely, so selflessly?

When Teldryn has finished with my armor, he moves to hang it from the rack in the room then begins the process of removing his own. I use this time to slip out of my underclothes and into my tunic for sleeping. Though I still face away from him out of learned modesty, I know that he would never violate my privacy. As much as this is our intimacy, it is also our long-held routine, a trust born out of many nights spent together similar to this one.

I’m already in bed when he finally unfurls his bedroll on the floor next to me. Once everything is arranged to his liking, he leans over and blows out the lantern sitting atop the table. I hear the sound of fabric rustling as he pulls off his shirt and lays down in the bedroll. My eyes are turned to the ceiling, but I know I would be able to see him by the light that spills underneath the door from outside. I hold myself back from looking at him. If I do, I fear that now might be the moment when my truth decides to betray me. With every shred of willpower I possess, I force my eyes to close and my body to submit to fitful slumber.

As I lie in the fringe between awakenedness and sleep, Teldryn’s low voice rises like a whisper of smoke through the grey space of my nascent dreams.

“Fjoara?” his voice asks, then pauses. “I love you.”

I hear these words but cannot discern if they are real or if they are but fragments of my wishful mind. Sleep comes too soon for me to tell, wrapping its inky tendrils around the stirring of my thoughts. In the morning when we wake up, will we dance careful circles around each other in the same way as every other day before? Or will we know something has changed by the way light bends to illuminate the path forward? Tomorrow, as they say, is today’s dream.

#this is like mildly unedited so go easy #oc: fjoara #my writing #telara #teldryn sero #f!ldb/teldryn sero

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