#warlock had questions about the people that raised him so he hunted them down

[uselessmoth]

Good Omens S2 Spoilers!!!!

Warlock: Okay, all we need to do is recreate their dates that they had when they were still together and shazam, they're in love again

Muriel: But they weren't actually toge-

Warlock: Shush, I saw it in a Lidsney Lohan film, it's going to work. Right Bently, I'm leaving it up to you to get Nanny to where we need, Muriel is going to get Broth- Aziraphale from Heaven. Me and Adam will set up a date they've had before

Adam: This is going to be so easy

Across the road

Nina: Should we stop this?

Maggie: No, I want to see if it works

[avocado-writing]

notes: i did this instead of anything in my inbox. sorry but it overtook me and became much longer than I thought. also I wrote raphael as the little sub he is teehee.

relationships: raphael x reader; enver gortash & reader (platonic, parent & child); eventual enver gortash x tav

words: 4k

rating: E

summary: a warlock of Raphael's, you visit the House of Hope one day and find a child. he cannot remain there.

Your life, really, is fine. Maybe a bit empty. But fine.

You’ve had Raphael as your Warlock patron for a while now. It’s fine too, he’s fine, there are definitely worse devils to be indebted to - the fact he’s attractive isn’t so bad either. You started fucking a few years ago and he’s basically wrapped around your little finger at this point. He’s still annoying as all hells but he bottoms well enough and the two of you enjoy being on each other’s good side, so it works out. Mostly what he has you do is track down and kill people who’ve pissed him off - and a lot of people have pissed him off, he’s very piss off-able to be fair, so there’s always plenty of jobs and you come to the House of Hope often, in between the mercenary work you do to survive.

This time you just finished hunting down someone who tried to weasel out of their contract. Raphael had you bring him the man’s head as proof of your work, and then you made him give you head after. Par for the course nowadays.

You peel yourself out of Raphael’s embrace as he bathes in the afterglow of getting spoiled in bed by you. You throw on your pants, and go to grab a bite to eat. Your patron always has a feast ready. It’s something to keep his servants distracted with, the constant cooking and replacing of dishes, and it’s nice to never be hungry when you’re here. You saunter into the banquet room and go to pick up a fistful of grapes…

… pausing when you see something utterly fucking shocking.

A little boy. Making himself as small as possible, dark messy hair and darker sunken eyes, all curled up by the fire. He looks at you with terror and you yelp in surprise, grabbing a spare tablecloth to quickly cover yourself with.

“What the fuck?!” you manage, looking around for answers to the unasked question. Nobody is here to give you any. Fucking lost souls, never here when you need them. You turn back to the boy who looks utterly terrified. “Are you meant to be here?”

He visibly swallows, nervous, and nods. Okay, right, great. Kid in the middle of hell. Of course. You're about to find Raphael and give him a grilling, when you hear a little stomach rumble.

You freeze, raise an eyebrow. Almost impossibly he shrinks further into himself.

“Have you eaten, kiddo?”

He shakes his head, unable to meet your eyes. Oh, well, that won’t do.

You grab a plate and begin to load it up with food for him. He looks hopeful though he tries not to show it too much, as if you’ll punish him for the very idea of it. Gods it must have been torture for the child, sitting in front of a banquet with no invitation to gorge. 

When the plate is so full that it threatens to spill over, you squat down and put it in front of him. The boy stares at it for a long moment before looking up at you.

“Go on. Dig in.”

It’s all the permission he needs. He tears into the food you’ve presented as if he’s never eaten before. As if it is ambrosia. You watch him wolf down chicken thighs so fast that he threatens to choke on them, and you feel your heart ache at the wretched sight.

“This really isn’t a place for kids. What’s your name, lad?” you ask, absent-mindedly swiping some greasy hair out of his eyes. You wonder when was the last time he washed, poor kid. He flinches at your touch a little but doesn’t stop eating, somewhat aware you’re probably the first person he’s met here who doesn’t mean him harm. 

“Enver,” he says through mouthfuls of bread. You tell him your name in return, though you aren’t sure if he really listens.

“I didn’t say he could eat.”

Raphael’s voice cuts through the moment, severe, and the boy freezes mid-bite. Terror floods him. He begins to visibly shake.

Oh, no. No. You won’t be having that.

You speak aloud, voice firm.

“Well, I said he could. Ignore him, kiddo.” 

You stand and put yourself between your patron and the child. This little boy has no idea who you are, but he can sense that you have some sort of power over the demon who’s walked into the room. Timidly he continues his meal. When you’re satisfied you turn to your devil, thunderous.

“Raphael? A word.”

Your tone leaves no wiggle room. He harrumphs and follows you far out of the boy’s earshot, where you unleash your fury. 

“Why is there a fucking child here, Raphael?!” He rolls his eyes.

“Oh, his parents sold him to me. Well, to one of my other warlocks, actually, so through the upline he’s mine.”

He speaks as if reading from the paper, not discussing a child’s life. Your blood boils. You want to slap him, but he’d just enjoy it.

“This is no place for… well, fucking anyone, let alone a literal kid. What were you thinking?!”

He shrugs. For a devil meant to be full of cunning, Raphael rarely actually thinks through his short-term impulses into long-term plans. 

“Torture him, I suppose.”

“Don’t you fucking think about it,” you say, hand instinctively summoning your blade. Raphael narrows his eyes. 

“Be careful when you reach for your sword, warlock, lest you forget the person who gifted it to you.”

Fuck. Shit. What an arseache. Okay, you can’t go about this by violence, he’s right. You need to be cunning. You let yourself soften and approach him, laying your hands on his chest. He raises an eyebrow but allows you to caress him. 

“Raphael, come on. You really want a child hanging around here? He’s going to ruin all our fun. I was going to have you on the banquet table later. You don’t want me to ride you while feeding you slices of apple? You enjoyed it last time…”

Your devil huffs but softens under your touch. Gods he really is easy to manipulate when you know which buttons to press. 

“You’re really up in arms about him, aren’t you? Look, they gave him away for a reason. He’s not some sweet innocent. He’s a little bastard, as far as I’ve been told.”

“Please don’t do anything too harsh to him? For me? For your favourite warlock?” you ask, pouting, sliding down Raphael’s body to your knees, ready to nuzzle into his cock in exchange for his agreement. 

He sags, weak for you. Got him.

“Ugh. Fine, you win, kitten. Spoilsport,” he mutters, and you slip him out of his underwear.

The next time you see Enver, it’s been a couple of weeks. You’ve just finished up a hunt and are reporting in - but he’s the first thing you check on. You find him sweeping one of the hallways, eyeing a wailing lost soul warily. 

“Hey, kiddo. How are you doing?”

He jumps a little, however he looks genuinely pleased to see you. Not enough for him to smile but at least some of the tension leaves him. 

“I’m alright,” he says quietly. He still looks sort of greasy. You’ll have to tell Raphael to let him bathe. 

“The boss been treating you okay?”

Enver nods. 

“Doesn’t really talk to me. Just tells me to do chores.”

Well that’s better than torture, you think. You reach into your pocket, root around for a bit, and hand something to him. His eyes go wide and then narrow in suspicion, and you have to reassure him that it’s not some sort of trick.

“Do you know what that is?”

“A sending stone,” he says, confidently, weighing the blue rock in his hand. You grin.

“Look at you! Clever kid. Yeah, that’s exactly what it is. So I take it you know how they work?”

“Each holder can send a message of twenty-five words a day, and the other can reply with twenty-five. Total of fifty each.”

“Precisely! I’m giving this to you for if there’s an emergency, okay? If you’re in trouble, I want you to give me a message and I’ll get here as quickly as I can.”

He eyes the stone. It’s as if he can’t quite bring himself to believe that someone genuinely cares about his wellbeing.

“Why?” he asks, after a while. 

“Because you shouldn’t be down here, and Raphael can be an arsehole. But don’t worry, I can sort him out,” you say with a grin, and for the first time, Enver chuckles. You hear the sound of Raphael calling your name from down the corridor and you roll your eyes.

“Speak of the devil. Take care, Enver, alright? And remember, let me know if there’s a problem.”

He nods, tucking the stone into his pocket before you head off to tie your patron up.

You don’t hear from Enver for a week or so, but one day, when you’re on the road, you get a message coming through.

“Hello. It’s Enver. Are you having a good day?”

You look confused and reply, “Yeah, kiddo, I’m fine. Is there something the matter? Nobody’s hurting you, are they?”

Then, because it is the nature of the stone, you add: “If they are then you just say, I’ll come and set them straight.”

There’s a beat. You can imagine Enver considering his response.

“I’m fine. I just wanted to say hello.”

That’s as much communication as the day will allow but it hits you hard. Oh. He’s lonely.

And from that day on, you have a sort of penpal.

Enver messages you everyday without fail, always excited to see how you’ve been doing. He has very little to report, which you’re thankful for, because you live in fear that he will need to use the stone for its intended purpose. Occasionally he lets you know that Raphael has said something cruel or Haarlep is teasing him, and then it’s just a matter of heading to the hells and setting them straight. Haarlep is like a cat, difficult to make to do anything, but to be honest he’s your friend and will usually acquiesce after some teasing. Raphael is always a bit more difficult to persuade. He still sees the boy as his property, his thing to treat as he’d like, so you have to pull out all of your best tricks in order to convince him.

You always end up coming out on top, though. Funny that.

Your visits to the House of Hope get more regular. Enver greets you with smiles and then with laughs and then with hugs, and you find you’re growing fond of the kid. Every now and then you see a bit of the little bastard Raphael warned you of - you’ll catch him tormenting one of the damned souls down here, or attempting to trap and harass some sort of insect who accidentally crawled through one of the portals. But a soft but firm hand to turn him in the right direction is enough. He’s a boy with a bright future… if he’s nurtured.

And this place has no time for that.

You make the pitch to Raphael one night at the end of a long weekend in hell. You’ve been doing everything he’s asked of you, indulging his every whim, being ever so sweet and obedient for your master - and fucking him within an inch of his life. You relax in his bed, cuddled up to his chest, walking your fingers along the expanse of his pectorals.

“Raphael…” you say, dreamily, and he hums.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re about to push your luck?” he chuckles. You rearrange yourself to look up at him, eyes wide and wanting.

“Me? Push my luck? Never…” you run your tongue over his nipple and he groans.

“Spit it out then, kitten.”

“It’s the boy, Raphael. Can I have him? Please?”

He huffs.

“Why?”

“Why not? What does he do around here apart from take up space and eat your food? Surely you don’t really want him hanging around, do you? I’d like to be able to ride you and scream your name without the fear we’ll be overheard.”

Raphael considers this for a long time, and for a moment, you think he won’t take the bait.

“You’ll extend your pact with me. I want your soul. Forever,” he decides. 

Ah. That’s quite the price. You consider it for a moment.

“...You never get to interfere with Enver’s life again,” you reply, because this is how you deal with devils. Your bargain to gain their respect. He laughs.

“Fine. The boy is off the hook.”

“Done. And I get to take him out of here and do what I want with him, no questions asked. He’s free. And I’ll do that thing you like, right now.”

His eyes sparkle.

“Deal.”

The next morning, body aching, you read through your new contract. You make some amendments in blood but sign it. The rest of your existence signed over to this damned devil. Raphael kisses you on the lips, long and languid - and when you walk out of the House of Hope it’s with Enver’s hand in yours.

“Where are we going?” he asks, quietly. He’s scared. You squeeze his fingers in reassurance.

“Well, I’m on the road a lot. We’ll be travelling. Is that okay with you, kiddo?”

He nods, excited, and you can’t help but notice how much he’s grown since you first met. He’s more than a head taller - gods, how long has he been down here? It’s not worth thinking about. He’s still pretty skinny, but you’ll fix that. Now you’re in charge of feeding him, you'll make sure he gets a good meal every night. Make sure he walks with his back straight and chin up.

Make sure he never has to feel small again.

It isn’t a perfect life, but it’s a damn sight better than what he had to put up with in the Hells. He smiles now, every day. Isn’t scared of people. Slowly grows confidence in himself because he knows that you’re in his corner, come hell or high water (literally). One day you see him drawing in a little notebook you got him, some sort of diagram far more complicated than you can understand - he explains the intricacies of the machine, so you get him some spare parts to start tinkering with. Gods the kid is a natural. So intelligent. Far smarter than you, and you’re worried you’re letting him down because you can’t keep up - but every time he shows you a new invention he seems so pleased when you compliment him.

“Look at you, kiddo! You’re amazing! I bet there’s nothing that you can’t do.”

And he looks like for the first time in his life that he believes what you’re saying.

Life isn’t easy, but it is worth living. You’re on the road more often than not. You don’t have a home to call your own, but you make sure your mercenary work is well-paid enough that you can put the two of you up in inns overnight, keep you both fed and entertained. Enver seems happy and that’s what matters.

You go back to the House of Hope as little as you can, now, reporting in when you do a job and fucking Raphael into submission. He asks you about the boy every once in a while and you palm him off with a laugh, acting as if you barely care about Enver rather than the truth: you’ve been actively putting money away towards a fund for his future.

You come back from one of your meetings late one night. You’re exhausted from what your patron has put you through and are looking forward to sleep. The portal opens into the inn you’ve booked for the night. You expect Enver to be dead to the world, but instead he’s wide awake, sitting cross-legged on his bed.

“Hey, kiddo, what are you doing up so late? Is everything okay?” you ask, surprised. Enver fidgets with his fingers.

“Does Raphael hurt you?” he blurts out. You’re shocked.

“What?”

“Do you want to be in a contract with him? Because if you don’t, I promise I’ll find a way to free you, like you freed me! I’ll get strong, really strong, and I’ll kill him for you.” His hands are balled into fists, jaw gritted. His eyes are dark in a way that’s troubling and he drops his gaze to his lap.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Where’s all this coming from? Kiddo, nothing is wrong. Everything between me and Raphael is fine. I’m not unhappy or being forced into anything, I promise. What’s the matter, Enver, eh?”

When he looks up at you, there are tears pooling. He launches himself into your arms, holding you so tightly it’s as if you’re his anchor to this plane.

“I don’t want anyone to hurt you. I love you…” and then there it is. He calls you ‘mum’, or ‘dad’, or some other word that settles what you already knew: he’s come to think of you as his parent now. He freezes when he hears himself say it and you think back to when he was that scared little boy, longing for a bit of food by the fireplace.

You hold him back.

“I love you too, son,” you tell him, and the two of you stay like that for a long while.

He asks if his last name can become yours. You introduce him as your child. You are a family. 

You’re right. He’s far smarter than you are, and you can’t keep up with him. It becomes more and more obvious as he gets older. He goes from brilliant teenager to incredible young man, and you’re glad that you have the funds to be able to send him to a good college and nurture his spark. You’re aware that you’re beginning to slow down a bit now. Your joints aren’t quite what they used to be, and though Raphael still covets you, he’s not oblivious to the fact that you’re getting on. His contracts for you become less vigorous. He likes to have you in his bed more than on the field. You don’t mind it, being pampered by your patron. It isn’t a bad life.

Enver doesn’t need to become Gortash. And what use has Bane for this man, this good man, this man who has made something of himself despite all of the odds stacked against him? None whatsoever. He never becomes the chosen of Tyranny. He is safe from the person he might have been.

The day he graduates at the top of his class is the proudest day of your life. You clap and cheer for him until you are hoarse, and he pretends to be embarrassed as you give him a big hug and a kiss on the cheek in front of all of his friends, every inch the glowing parent.

He becomes chancellor because of his own merits, not due to any underhanded trickery. He is a master when it comes to machines. He never invents the Steel Watch because he does not have the warped mind to create them. Instead he focuses on technology to help the city of Baldur’s Gate: cleaning machines, security automatons, things which help with the admin of running to place so those in government can focus on supporting Baldurites. 

He buys you a house in the upper city. You settle down there as you grow older, make friends, get plenty of visits from your son. Everyone knows how loved you are. He eventually hires a young woman named Karlach as a bodyguard who you grow fond of: she makes up in brawn what he lacks, and she always puts a smile on your face when you have the two of them around for tea.

The Absolute comes. Raphael is poking around because of course he is. He’s got some new toys by now but you’re still one of his old favourites, and a couple of his most loved tricks with your tongue mostly keep him out of the way. Plus he promised not to interfere in Enver’s life, and he’s bound by that, the tricky bastard.

Some other person is Bane’s chosen, but it is not your Enver. Instead he fights for the side of good against the Dead Three and the mindflayer invasion, an ally to this Tav, the hero of Baldur’s Gate. Through their trials the two of them end up falling in love and it’s all you could ever want for your son. When the city fights against the Elder Brain you pick up your pact weapon for the last time despite his pleas not to: you’re a Warlock, damn it, and you’re going to defend your home until your last breath.

You don’t die, which is a nice bonus.

Enver and Tav help rebuild the city once the invasion has been stopped. Not too long in the future you have grandchildren, and they are the light of your life, always silly and giggling and joyous to hear the remarkable stories from your mercenary years.

You help out where you can but your age is weighing on you. One day, you take a tumble, and suddenly you’re bedbound; Enver and your family are visiting you every day as you get weaker, and you know that your final days can’t be far off.

He sits at your bedside, your hand clamped in his. Ah, a workman’s hand. The hand of a man who is constantly inventing and working and making himself useful. The hand of a good and decent man.

“The little ones go back to school tomorrow,” he says, fondly, “Tav is relieved. They’ve been rushed off their feet during the holidays– so many years since that Absolute business, yet the legislation is still going. They need a break, really.”

“It’s exhausting being a parent, isn’t it?” you ask with a grin, before being interrupted by a rattling cough which you can’t seem to shake. Enver lifts a glass of water to your lips and you drink, thankful. “Eurgh. Sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologise for. I’ll call the doctor again in the morning, see if she can get you any more of that tincture. Or maybe Halsin might have some ideas…”

“Oh, Enver, don’t go through all that fuss for me. Just sit here with me, kiddo.”

When you call him that, he knows he has no choice. You are still his parent, after all. He shifts to make himself more comfortable in his bedside chair, never letting go of your hand.

“I want you to know,” you say, voice soft, “everything has been worth it, Enver. My whole life was made better because you were my son. You’re the thing that I’m most proud of.”

His eyes go wide and glass over with tears, jaw grits.

“I… don’t say things like that, please,” he says, because he’s scared of what will come after.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay, kiddo. I’m right here.”

He rests his head on the side of the bed, and you can see his shoulder heave as he cries. You bury your hand in his hair, smiling when it’s still a little greasy, and then you close your eyes.

When you open them again you’re in the House of Hope.

Your body feels lighter than it has in decades. You look down to see the wrinkles and liver spots in your hands are gone. You’re wearing what can generously be called an outfit, though it’s more straps of leather criss-crossed over your body.

“Well, did you have fun? Was your deal worth it in the end?” Raphael asks. He’s leaning against the doorframe, swirling wine around in a glass in his hand, another held out to you. You take it and frown.

“Were you… were you just standing here, waiting for me to bloody die?” you ask. He harrumphs.

“You didn’t answer my question, kitten.”

You take the wine, quaff it, then pull him into a kiss. He moans into your mouth in surprise and rapture.

“Yes,” you answer, honestly, because it was worth it. You’d never have made a different choice, “now, are we going to bed, or are you just going to stand here being smug for the rest of eternity?”

Raphael grins and pulls you to the bedroom.

taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13 @trappedinlimbo15 @infinitely-kate @dhampling @wereallbrokenangels @tilldeathdonugget

[rahadaddy]

Session 35

Spoilers Ahead!

Our last two sessions have been wild. The party learned that Rictavio’s tiger had escaped. Izek Strazni, as captain of the guard, was ordering Vallakians to go inside, but he asked the warlock if she could help to heal Gunter Arasek, who he claimed had been mauled in the tiger’s escape. Theo agreed readily and followed Izek to Vallakovich manor while the rest of the party went in search of the tiger. They found (and healed) a nearly-dead Karl Wachter, who was responsible for the tiger’s escape. They left him to lick his wounds and Alistor, Tam, and the Kolyanaviches delved into the woods, where they ran into Ez and an old man they did not recognize, arguing about the tiger. The man was Dr. Rudolph van Richten, vampire hunter. Ez told the party (who she knows is traveling with Doru) that the tiger is trained to hunt vampires. Alistor and the Kolyanaviches slipped off in one direction. Tam made a false trail and persuaded Van Richten and Ez to follow it. (DM Note: Van Richten wasn’t fooled and was fairly sure, based on his understanding of the area, that they would loop around to be able to corner the vampire in question). Meanwhile, in town, Theo quickly learned that Mr. Arasek was not there, not injured, and that Izek would not let her go. He knocked her out and she awoke in his room, surrounded by dolls that looked like her, her “sisters” (other creations of the Abbot’s), and Ireena, and wearing a wedding dress. She sent her familiar (a homebrew creature called a “cherub” that is a celestial warlock response to the imp) to get Victor to help. However, Benny, the familiar, only has limited telepathy, so Victor didn’t have a better plan besides firebolting the door. 

He forgot that Theo is terrified of fire. This initiated combat and Victor and Theo took down Izek below half health. He realized he was losing and that the woman he loves did not reciprocate. In a moment of conscience, he delivered one of the most amazing final lines I’ve ever delivered, “There are no heroes in this room. Not even you, Theodora. But I want you to know that I never raised a hand to you in this fight.” And, hopes utterly destroyed, skin necrotic and burning with holy fire, he lit himself on regular fire as Victor and Theo fled. They managed to put out the fire, but not save Izek. It’s tragic because Theo and Izek really were friends. His obsession ruined it. Theo and Victor agreed they would tell people Izek died trying to save them from the fire and they went to find the rest of the party.

Alistor and the Kolyanaviches discovered the cabin in the woods, where the tiger had Doru cornered and planned an ambush on it. Alistor also had to explain tigers (and saber toothed tigers) to his bewildered boyfriend and Ireena. I don’t think Ismark was prepared for the tiger to be THAT BIG, but he and Alistor started to attack it and very nearly killed it. 

Meanwhile Tam, Ez, and Van Richten ran into some local farmers (people Tam knows in passing) leading a child in a muzzle and chains into the woods with intent to bury her neck deep and abandon her for having turned into a “vampire”. Tam corrected some of the farmers’ misconceptions while Van Richten inspected the girl. If she was a vampire, he would kill her, and if she wasn’t… 

She was a dhampir. Tam, the girl’s father, Van Richten, and Ez deliberated on what to do about this, whether she’d be better off mercy killed (Van Richten), taken to Father Lucian (Tam), or taken to Immol. As they talked, Theo and Victor crashed through the underbrush to find them and Tam persuaded the father to take his child to Immol. The group pressed on and Van Richten accidentally outed himself as Rictavio. Theo, who was already having a horrible day, had her celebrity crush dashed on the rocks as they approached the cabin and joined the fight. Victor used hypnotic pattern to hold Doru, Alistor, Ireena, and the tiger still. Ez and Tam moved the tiger, Durga, so she could be healed by Van Richten and taken away from the fight. Theo rushed to help Doru, but when he unfroze, he was gripped by bloodlust (emphasis on lust) and tried to rush the injured Alistor to feed. Theo pinned him to the wall and he started to flirt with her (his beloved fiancee) with no restraints before sinking his fangs into her throat and drinking. Van Richten Zone of Truth’d the party to find out why they were siding with the vampire. As he did that, however, the party all started asking Theo questions about why she was wearing a wedding dress, what do you mean there was a fire, etc. Theo struggled. A lot. 

Van Richten tried to leave without Ez (yet again) and she stopped him. The party began to interrogate him. Who is he? Is he really Van Richten or Rictavio? And what does he plan to do next, anyways?

“I,” Van Richten said with a grin, “am going to kill Strahd von Zarovich.”

End session. 

I am so pumped!! It was so chaotic and fun!! I have a lot of feelings about these characters - all the PCs and NPCs - and I want to see good things happen for them and for our story. It’ll probably be 2-3 weeks until we can play again, so I hope we can keep the momentum going!

[thesean]

@freshsteel​ said: Please write your essay on Osiris I Will read it and that is a threat

@stormlord67​ said: I wish to hear about the Osiris brainrots and info.

@salt216000​​ said: Tell us your thoughts about Osiris I dare you

Did you ever hear the tragedy of Osiris, Warden of the Infinite Forest? I thought not. It’s not a story the Vanguard would tell you...

alright alright alright

i have A LOT of thoughts about osiris so buckle up, i’m gonna be going over A LOT starting at the beginning to the end of his exile (also i won’t be talking much about immolant because it makes me too sad when i’m already sad about him for other reasons)

I want to talk about this phrase I often use in regards to Osiris first. “Exile as a state of mind.”

EXILE AS A STATE OF MIND.

So like. The thing about Osiris is that time moves faster in the Infinite forest than it does outside of it. And from what I've been able to gather In Real Time he's only been exiled for about 40 at the least, 200 at most, whereas for him it's been hundreds, if not thousands, of years. All that time he's been exiled, all that time he's come to accept that fact, that there is no last city to fall back on whenever he needs to. That there was no one to rely on, not truly. That he had to fight this war against the Vex alone. That it was Him and Only Him.

So it becomes a state of mind.

Worse yet, it's a title, one that he still uses despite no longer being exiled. (Read in One Exile to Another, and a few of the Hunt Armor loretabs.) so there's a disconnect between him and the people he loves because he is still exiled in his mind, he does not have anyone to rely on other than himself. Exile, not as a state of being, but a state of mind, because he can no longer think how it will be otherwise.

Exile, as a state of mind, because if he accepts that he is no longer exiled, then what? Who will he be? He won’t be a Commander, he won’t be the Hero of Six Fronts, he won’t be any of that, he’ll be stuck as Osiris.

And Osiris is a terribly lonely man.

Let’s also consider what Osiris’s exile was like in the first place. How it really took place, not through the skewed lens of The Fall of Osiris comic or through the biased perspective of Osiris’s journals.

Consensus Meeting 2891.98

NM: "I note for the record that we are without a Warlock Vanguard or a Vanguard Commander." Andal Brask: "Two birds, one man." Zavala: "Ikora Rey is interim Warlock Vanguard for this meeting." Speaker: "Which brings us to our first order of business. Ikora Rey, the Consensus formally requests you assume the responsibilities of Warlock Vanguard." Ikora Rey: "Considering I've been performing those responsibilities for a while now, I accept." FWC: "Why did you cover for him for so long?" IR: "Someone had to do it." S: "Ahem. Now that we have Consensus, I may inform you I have decided to banish former Warlock Vanguard Osiris from the Last City." [murmurs] S: "Are there any objections?" DO: "None here. Maybe he'll find a better planet for us." [pause] S: "Very well. Next: I name Titan Vanguard Zavala as the new Vanguard Commander. Congratulations." (Curse of Foresight)

It was so casual and no one stood up for him. It was a unanimous decision. It’s no wonder Osiris has so much trouble reaching out for help. Last time he did he was exiled, last time he did everyone he cared about turned their backs on him, Saint wasn’t exempt from this. He must have felt some sense of betrayal from this. And it stuck with him.

GOD IN THE MACHINE.

This one’s a much more subtle thing and based upon observations but I do want to talk about how terrifyingly close Osiris was to, essentially, godhood.

There was a quote in Destiny 1 at some point when you’re hunting down Oryx, I can’t seem to find the exact quote on Ishtar, but it was something along the lines of “In order to be a god you must have eyes everywhere.”

Osiris has a lot of eye imagery.

Another way Osiris was close to godhood is that he had the ability to make echoes. There’s only one other character in Destiny who was able to do that. You guessed it: Oryx (albeit he used Darkness instead of Light to do it but the sentiment remains.)

Additionally, let’s not forget that Destiny tends to play on character’s names whenever their names come from something of power. Toland commented upon Eris’s name being a name of chaos reflecting that she’s named after the Chthonic Goddess, Eris. And Osiris being named Osiris, an Egyptian God of death, well... Need I say more?

Osiris can manipulate the Light in ways we didn’t even know was possible, from using multiple Light elements at once to creating Reflections and Echoes, to creating a ward of Light in a way we haven’t seen Warlocks do. Not only that but Osiris had an entire planet under his control, a Vex machine that no one person should be able to control and he had it at the tips of his fingers.

He was scary close to godhood. And I don’t think he realizes it.

FAITH.

Another aspect of Osiris I’d like to touch upon is his relationship with faith.

Osiris has a very distinctly different view of these things in Destiny, and it’s something that’s now painted as a good thing. It’s good to question why you fight, good to question why you exist. Osiris questions everything and while there’s a few jabs made at him about it (mostly they come from how he was viewed before Curse of Osiris) it ultimately doesn’t state that Osiris’s questions are bad. In fact I’d go so far as to say they were vindicating.

BUT. This raises my thoughts on his faith, on how it’s served him. We know that Saint-14 has a lot of faith, both in people and in the Traveler, and it’s interesting to me to see the dichotomy of that vs. Osiris’s views.

There was an idle line he had in Season of Dawn, in where he said "I thought you had broken the Red Legion... I see faith has failed me yet again..."

What has faith gotten him? Abandonment. Exile. Losing Saint.

They have a silent god hanging above them in the city, and what has it done for them? The Traveler was not at Six Fronts, the Traveler was not at Twilight Gap, the Traveler did not stop the Vex, and the Traveler certainly didn't save Saint. Rotted faith, eroded to bitterness.

The light is a weapon because if it weren't then would it not act? Would it not save humanity? Why wouldn't it save him? Why would he suffer so much?

So he is mad at god.

The best quote I remember about his Relationship with the Traveler is him saying that the Traveler's death was a gift in that there are now Guardians, but also they only have the problems they have now is because the Traveler came there, bringing its enemies to their shores.

He questions the Light because while it’s their greatest weapon, it is also the source of humanity's grief

The Traveler holds their chains. (Freedom is a chain, choice is a prison.)

“I have questioned the Light before, and I continue to question it today. But skepticism is not the same as disavowal. The Light is one of our greatest resources.” — Transmission from Osiris

[theaviskullguy]

since yall need to see it

i have a coroika fantasy/dnd au (it has some dnd elements but its not directly a dnd au) so have this

Goggles: Chaotic neutral human rouge

Noble background

thief

he a stealy boi

but he’s got a heart of gold

back when he was a noble he saw that there was a lot of people that needed help that his family didn’t even think about helping

so goggles took to stealing from his family and other’s riches and giving them to the poor.

As a result he was disowned and cast out from his family and earned the name “Blue Bandit” due to his thieving habits and his blue hair

Rider: Neutral good human barbarian

Soldier background

Basically Rider was born into a magic-using family but was known as the family disappointment by his parents and extended family since he had none of his own (his siblings were chill about it)

So he thought that he could make them proud by joining the military and becoming a hero of his village

And he did but his parent’s still hated him simply because he had no magic

So, Rider left his village to find something else to do

Army: True Neutral half-elf warlock

Noble background

Patron: Actually one I came up with named Phyria. She’s a fiend patron but she give extra fire spells

anyways, Army comes from a line of kings, each worshipping Phyria, known as the Blaze Kings.

Army’s father was the first to act as a Tyrant. He wanted to rule the world and groomed Army to do the same.

Basically, Army was manipulated to believe that he was the only one who was “pure”. Everyone else were filthy wrongdoers.

When Army’s dad died, it wasn’t made public, and Army ruled as The Blaze King with people still believing his father was the ruler

He got news of a rebellion (basically the gang having decided to go and stop him) and decided to go down and masquerade as...well, himself kind of.

As he traveled with them he began to question all he was taught to believe. 

So basically the gang lead him through an unintentional redemption arc.

Aloha: Chaotic good human bard

Entertainer background

of course aloha’s a bard

anyways, his parents died when he was 5 and he was taken in by his uncle, who ran a tavern.

As he grew up he learned how to make food, serve drinks, and became pretty well-liked in the town

But what Aloha really liked was the traveling bards that came and went at the tavern. He’d learn their songs by ear and sing along.

It came to the point where he was gifted a lute by one of them and his uncle sent him off to learn how to be a proper bard

And when Aloha came back ten years later his town had been burned down. Literally no one was left, and everything was just in ashes

Other than this one knife that had the tavern’s symbol on it.

So, Aloha took it with him in his travels.

He still has it and he still uses the lute given to him by the bard so long ago.

Mask: Chaotic neutral undead drow necromancer

hermit background

“Dude you made him an accidental lich” -My DM friend when I was explaining my idea to them

Basically Mask always had a close connection to the dead

He’d be mourning people he didn’t even know, he would talk to seemingly the void whenever at a grave, and he was always pretty close to death himself, being a pretty sickly person

So when he became an adult he hid himself in a cave, practicing his craft of necromancy

He brought back a sick cat he named Ash who decided to follow him around

Anyways as for the undead part

One day Mask got a nasty infection and he went to the market to get a cure

and he was scammed, getting a nasty poison instead

so Mask drank it and died, but somehow he came back as an undead himself

he decided “fuck it” and went off adventuring along with Ash

Skull: Lawful good Drow-Wood elf ranger

Urchin background

So basically Skull was born to two moms; a drow huntress and a wood elf archer.

He tends to look more like a drow though

anyways, he learned how to fight, hunt, gather, and shoot a bow and arrow thanks to his moms

he was also raised in a really pretty forest

his parents do be living the cottagecore dream...

anyways one day skull came back home after hunting (he had caught a raven all by himself and wanted to show his moms) when he found-suprise suprise-that his house had burnt down

his moms were alright and sent him to live in the city with his grandparents, while they go on a mission to find out who did this

problem is his grandparents hadn’t seen him before and don’t really like drow

so they kicked him-a 12 year old in elf years btw-on the streets

he taught himself to survive in the city-he didn’t know the way back to the forest-and after a few years of begging on the streets, and occasionally stealing, he finally had enough for a bow, quiver, and arrows. And he knew he could sustain himself by hunting for his own food and selling what he didn’t need

so he did just that

he commissioned a bow, arrows, and quiver and in the process met aviators- a wood elf who really loved crafting of any kind-who took on the job and made him a beautiful bow

as thanks, even though he payed, skull always made sure to give avi and his family extra food he collects.

and as time went on he and avi fell in love because aviskull supremacy

But later avi was relocated to a different city, so Skull and him made a promise to get married when they next saw each other

since then, skull joined the gang, took down a tyrant, and is now just searching for avi along the gang’s adventures

Prince: Lawful good High elf cleric

Acolyte background

basically-this is also emp’s backstory too-prince, emp, and prince’s twin regent are royals of a magic-based kingdom

but you see regent didn’t really like non magics, and thought they should be slaves under his rule

Prince and Emperor didn’t like that, so Emperor challenged Regent to a duel

you see, in the case of multiple heirs to the throne, the strongest one would ascend to become the ruler.

it would be prince, seeing as in addition to being a healer, his patron had given him a spellbook, filled with plenty of dark and powerful spells

but clerics and priests are forbidden to take on positions of political power.

so regent and emperor fought in battle and regent won, becoming king and his first act was exiling prince and emperor on the spot, not even letting them take the things in their rooms.

regent thought that, since prince had left his spellbook in his room, that he could now have access to the power his twin had, but prince was clever

when he had received the book, he placed a curse on it so only he may use it without repercussions. Anyone who even so much touched it would get a nasty curse only Prince or his patron can lift

 anyways so now regent’s paranoid that prince would somehow return, take the spellbook, and kill regent

also prince has a familiar with him; his kitten, kia.

Emperor: Lawful neutral High Elf Sorceror

Noble background

basically same backstory as prince tbh not much to say

Gloves: Chaotic Good halfling Druid

Outlander background

Basically, in the village they lived in, pink eyes are considered bad luck. so when gloves opened their eyes to show pink, their parents left them to die in the woods

jokes on them

Gloves was found and literally raised by wolves until they were 10 in halfling years

Then they got found by two human hunters and was taken in

Gloves just. ran away from them. They hated being constrained and punished for even mentioning that they missed the pack

They never found the pack again, but after years in the woods, they learned how to transform into a wolf themselves.

Nothing too big after that, just the bab joins the group and now the gang has a wolf enby!!!

And i dont have anything for Vintage...suggestions are welcome!!!!

[antisocial-af]

Stalwart Verdure Chapter 1: The Invitation

WIP

Rating: E

Graphic Depictions of Violence

NSFW, Violence, Minors put in Violent Situations, Mentions of War, Character Death (Not Malec or Lightwood Siblings), Betrayal, Seelie AU, Slow Burn, Angst with Happy Ending, Canon used loosely, Tags are important please read them.

Summary:

Time Skip Warning! Ten Years have passed since their Queen's forced ascension and now a letter threatens to unravel the new peace found in the Seelie Realm.

(Text on Image: ‘The Shadow World Council requests the honor of your presence for the third Alliance Gathering in order to strive toward capturing Exiled War Criminal Valentine Morgenstern.')

Image Credits: The handwriting is not my own but I have consent from the owner to use it for this graphic. The background is obtained from Canva. Both were merged together through Photoshop by me.

Click Here to Read on Ao3

Story:

The Seelie Court emptied as knights and nobles left the Queen and her High Knight for their midday meal. A noble hurried away quickly; tasked with retrieving the youngest of their heirs, Max, from his training session. Just like his older brother, Max, only at the age of 11, had started surpassing his age’s milestones,  tutors having to be replaced as the young Seelie prince seemed to devour knowledge like no other.

“I was told our Alessa sent us another message,” Isabelle stated more than asked as she addressed Alec. She knew that her brother would’ve read through the letter first. As the High Knight of the Seelie Realm, her brother took his role seriously. Even if Alessa partly belonged to the Seelie Realm, she was raised willingly by Nephilims, and  Seelies would always be wary of that aspect.

“It is more nonsense,” Alec dismissively confirmed, “nothing that our Kingdom needs to involve itself in.”

Alec was well aware of his sister’s fascination with the other realms and had foolishly hoped that the monitored contact with a half Seelie would sate her curiosity.

“According to who?” Isabelle questioned. She knew her brother’s motives and while Izzy respected them, she was growing tired of being sealed away. “Rumors are that she is asking for an alliance.”

“The Seelie Realm has no need for allies,” Alec firmly stated, turning back to his post at the edge of the Queen’s throne, “we shouldn’t involve ourselves with their ventures.”

“So will we just stay sealed for another decade?” Isabelle pushed forward with her interrogation. “A decade has come and passed. Our Realm is thriving.”

“If we open the portals again then we threaten that growth,” the Seelie Knight bit back. “You want me to tell you it is okay to open the Realm while the mundane plane is obviously in turmoil? Do you wish them to come knocking at our doorstep again?”

“Let them,” Isabelle challenged with a glint in her eyes. “I could use another blade to match the first.”

“Our people are still healing from the last attack,” Alec continued as he held his hand out to help Izzy step off the throne. He watched as it lightly trembled with each step his sister took away from it; a side effect of the early ascension.

In the past, when they had first tried to lead the newly ascended Queen away from the throne, it had started to wilt immediately. This had caused panic in the remaining nobles and the only surviving healer had immediately been rushed to the child Queen. They had found nothing amiss other than exhaustion. It wasn’t till they had tried to walk away from the Royal Court that the vines tightly gripped Alec, who was carrying Isabelle. They dragged Alec back to the throne and placed him with Isabelle upon it.

For the next months, every attempt to remove Isabelle from the throne was met with violence. It wasn’t till the vines finished wrapping around the base of the throne that  the Seelie Realm finally allowed Isabelle off the throne within limits. Isabelle in simple words informed them that the Realm would never allow her far from the throne, since it  had been corrupted when they forced the ascension, and because of that, it needed the Seelie Queen to always remain close.  

“Our people don’t want to be caged,” Isabelle corrected, waving her hand to dismiss the nobles’ chairs. They sank back into the court, and in their place, rose three chairs and a small table. “Seelies aren’t meant to be still. We have access to other dimensions for a reason. A Seelie is only stationary when welcoming death, you know this.”

“That’s a dumb saying,” Max’s voice broke through the Court, “what if you are being tracked by something that goes off of sound? Then our option is to remain still.”

“It is just a saying Max,” Isabelle sighed, “don’t you want to go outside the Realm, Max? See what’s out there?”

Max looked at Isabelle and then at his brother. He had watched his older siblings have this battle multiple times over the years. He rolled his eyes and took his seat at the table, his attention captivated by the vines bringing them food.

“Does it matter?” Max huffed. “I’ll be lucky if Alec lets me out before my first century, even if the gates are opened.”

“We could hear them out without opening the gates,” Isabelle offered as she took her seat at the head of the table, “we could send a knight, and hear what their Shadow Council has to say.”

“Why?” Alec questioned joining his siblings at the table, “it won’t matter what they have to say. The Seelie Realm isn’t looking for allies.”

“The enemy of my enemy is a friend of mine, brother,” Isabelle stated. “The little council they are going to have has information about Valentine, and they could lead us to him.”

“So for revenge?” Alec pushed with an eye roll. The knight looked away when he caught sight of Isabelle’s crown. It always served as a vivid reminder of his failures on that night. “You want to hunt Valentine down?”

“I do,” Isabelle stated.

“Whispers say that he has taken some of the mortal instruments from the Shadowhunters,” Max added, grabbing some fruit, “he could build up an army.”

“Whispers from where?” Alec questioned as he turned his gaze onto Max.

“People talk and the wind carries them,” Max shrugged, avoiding Alec’s stare. He may not be good at omitting things like his older brother, but he learned a few other tricks. “Either way, Izzy’s right.”

“The Realm experienced the greatest loss last time Valentine had any sort of following,” Isabelle reminded, “we don’t want to take that chance again, Alec. I don’t want allies either, especially an alliance with Warlocks and Shadowhunters, but I will take that over a Valentine Army.”

Alec shifted his gaze and straightened up as he faced his Queen rather than his sister now. “Is that an order?”

“The Seelie Realm wishes you to go in order to collect information and ensure the execution of Valentine,” Isabelle confirmed and replied to her brother’s challenge.

“We won’t open the gates,” Alec conceded, watching his sister’s agitation at his perceived denial, “I will go alone to the first meeting in order to evaluate if they are even competent. Other Downworlders can be unreliable, so who knows if they’re even being productive with their gatherings.”

Isabelle relaxed and smiled at him.

“Wouldn’t it be dangerous for you to go alone?” Max questioned, biting his lip as he placed his food down, suddenly losing his appetite. “You could be overpowered by numbers easily.”

“I will take two other knights with me but not you,  Max,” Alec stated, ruffling his brother's hair. “One of us has to be here to keep Izzy in line. She might take advantage that I am gone to redo the knight uniforms.”

“But her design doesn’t allow for hidden daggers!!!” Max cried out right away. The young Seelie prince blushed at his outburst but kept smiling. He often slipped into the role of Seelie prince so deeply, that it took one of his siblings to draw out their eleven-year-old brother.

“Exactly, so watch her,” Alec smiled and sighed, as he looked at Isabelle’s pleased expression.

[nerdpiggy]

Tell us about your ocs!! I'm genuinely curios bc of the tags

[ID: Meme of Hatsune Miku smiling. Top text reads "Thanks for sending me a message". Bottom text reads "You're very cute and I will be replying to you".]

Robin "Robbie" Fuller: The character i play in a DND campaign.

they/them pronouns. they're nonbinary and asexual and don't care to label their romantic attraction.

They're 22 years old and 5'9" (175cm)

Their birthday is November 12th. they're a scorpio

They started off as a Mundane MOTW character and they're now a level 7 warlock in DND. They're a human

They live in a small coastal town in massachusetts called Holyoak and they go to the local college to learn culinary. They live in a single dorm and they have a cute widdle black cat named Chickadee

One day (for various reasons) their life was flip-turned upside down with discovering the existence of monsters, portals, different dimensions, and rifts in spacetime

One of the reasons for them discovering all of this was them meeting a man named Thomas who's a human from a different dimension called the Palisades. He's a well-known Judge over there. (Thomas is @bevtastic 's character)

Robbie gets an offer to join the Interdimensional Defence Agency (IDA), says fuck it and accepts, and Robbie and Thomas stay friends by virtue of their similar jobs.

Robbie is tasked to go to a different dimension (A half-medieval half-wild west desert town called Argyle) to stop a threat that was growing there. Threat turned out to be a massive mind-controlling dragon who wanted revenge for the rest of her dragon species that were killed off by medieval "heroes". Robbie was not cut out for this as their first job. They (with help) subdue the dragon eventually but not before she burned down multiple towns including Argyle to a crisp. Robbie feels very bad about this.

Robbie, Thomas, and the rest of the party receive a mysterious letter leading them to an old abandoned mansion in Holyoak and get roped into a rescue mission to save Thomas's old friend Percy who has apparently been bodysnatched by a bad guy and trapped somewhere for what felt like thousands of years. This is the arc where we switched from Monster of the Week to DND, and Robbie gets connected to a nature deity Adelaide through a purple necklace. They also get a familiar, who is an owl with pitch-black feathers and glowing yellow pupilless eyes that Robbie named Mr. Muffins.

Robbie and Thomas become very good friends :)

Thomas dies.

Robbie goes to the Palisades to find out what happened to him. Turns out he wanted to reveal the secret of interdimensional travel to the public and work to make it open, free, and safe. The people in charge did not allow him to do this by legal means so he aimed to do it illegally, which was when he was murdered by a group of bandits.

On top of that, one of the main reasons why he wanted to reveal the different dimensions is because there is a HUGE interdimensional threat coming our way, and we need to act on it if we want to live.

Percy finds Robbie and asks them to help with this threat, who apparently is a singular person named Siris that has been locked in a prison for thousands of years and somehow got out. Robbie doesn't have much of a choice and accepts.

In the Palisades, there are monsters called Behemoths. they emerge from people who get bitten by a behemoth or who touch the black tar-like substance that runs like rivers in certain areas of the Palisades. During a battle, Robbie gets bitten by a Behemoth, and now they're a candidate for Behemism (aka turning into big giant monster syndrome).

Because Robbie has Behemism and Siris is part of the reason for Behemism existing, they're mind roommates now. Robbie and Siris do not get along very well.

There's more to Robbie but this is their main backstory!!!

[ID: a drawing of Robbie holding a chrysanthemum. They have short pink curly hair, and they're wearing a yellow floral button-up and a purple necklace. They have bandages on their freckled face and they're looking down at the chrysanthemum with a neutral expression.]

Emile Azarel: A character i play in a different campaign that does MOTW.

He/him pronouns, he's trans, demisexual, and demiromantic.

He's 19 and he's 5'3

He doesn't know his actual birthday but the day he celebrates is January 23rd

His MOTW class is The Expert. He's a fire genasi

He was born in central Russia but he doesn't know his parents well because when he was ~8 months old there was a big monster attack that unfortunately killed his parents. A monster hunter named Avery Azarel found Emile, took him in and raised him.

Emile learned to hunt monsters with Avery and the two traveled around together as monster hunters.

Eventually Emile wished to have a solid place to live rather than constantly traveling, because he wanted friends. He found a town in the pacific northwest called Salmon Peak that had everything he wanted: Russian culture, a fairly small easy-to-get-around layout, and some very weird mysteries going on. (Just because Emile wanted to settle didnt mean he wanted to stop monster hunting!)

He moved to Salmon Peak and has met a bunch of new friends! He's also learning more and more about the town, which is turning out to be somehow even weirder than he expected.

Emile is a very sweet, polite boy, but considering the fact that he's only ever been around one person mainly for his entire life, he has a bit of a ways to go when it comes to interacting with people. The monster hunting life means that when there's a monster, you kill it and that usually solves all your problems. Emile has transferred this logic to people as well (if they're a monster, kill em!) and he's learning through friend influence that maybe human lives are a bit more sacred than that.

His favorite color is blue because he loves the sky!

A lot of people underestimate his skills because he's little and looks very young, but he is a very good monster hunter. Because of Avery (the best monster hunter in the biz), his last name has a bit of a reputation.

Emile is blind, autistic, and has vitiligo!

I have much more planned for Emile but I can't say it here because it is MAJOR spoilers!

[ID: a drawing of Emile walking forward. He is wearing a blue shirt with stars on it, blue jeans, a fluffy white jacket, a belt with a star on it, star earrings, a moon necklace, and black shoes. His blue hair is swaying behind him and he's holding a white cane with a red tip. He's smiling slightly.]

Avery Azarel: Emile's parent! I've not played them as a character yet but I've made a character sheet for them.

they/them pronouns. They're agender, aromantic, and pansexual

their age is (???) and their height is 5'7

they have a birthday but nobody knows when it is

Their MOTW class is The Chosen. they appear human

They're widely considered the best monster hunter in the biz. Their name is well-known and they're requested for help all around the world

Because of this, they're constantly traveling and having a house would not make sense. They just pack their things, stay at motels/hotels/etc., camp in the woods and move around to wherever people need them.

Since they've been pretty much everywhere, they always seem to know at least one person from each town. They never seem to get too close to anyone, though

They are fluent in many different languages!

In the past they were paired up with another monster hunter and they made a great duo. That was a couple decades ago; they go solo now.

Years ago, an unexpected and incredibly destructive monster rampaged a small town in Central Russia. Avery came as fast as they could (they were nearby in the area) but they still couldn't finish off the beast before it tore the whole town to shreds. Dozens of homes were crushed, but surprisingly most people survived, with the exception of a couple of people who died under the rubble. Avery felt awful (this was their biggest failure in a while), and as they were searching through the rubble for any more casualties they found little baby Emile, miraculously unscathed. They took him in and raised him from then on.

Nobody, not even Emile, knows very many details about Avery's childhood, their family, their age, or really any information about them. (Emile has been trying to figure out Avery's birthday for AGES so they can celebrate, but Avery has refused to budge)

Their main weapon is 2 pairs of bolas! those are those chains with 2 balls on either end, usually made to be thrown at people's legs to restrain and trip them. they use the bolas both as restraining tools and as their main weapon, because i think weapons where you spin them really fast in front of you are cool

There's a scar over their left eye; whenever someone asks how they got it they always spin a different elaborate tale of an epic monster battle. Nobody knows which (if any) is the true story

there is a WHOLE LOT that I am leaving out if you couldn't tell. There's a huge chunk of their past that I'm leaving out because it's all a big bundle of spoilers. Someday I will be able to elaborate more on Avery!

[ID: a picrew made by djarn of Avery. They're smiling, their head is tilted slightly, and there's a scar over their left eye. Their hair is tied half-up half-down. They're wearing a black shirt with "òwó" on it and a blue jacket with an aromantic flag pin and a pansexual flag pin. the background is an agender flag.]

These are my main OC's! I have more (Orion, Nottwyrm, "Noodlearms", etc.) but these 3 are the main ones that I post about. :3 thank u for asking!!!

If you have any questions about any of my characters I always welcome asks!!! 💖

[ratisnotcrying]

one day

Summary: Of course Merlin knew this day would come. As convincing as he was as the bumbling fool of a man servant, he was actually quite intelligent. So he knew that, one day, Arthur would find out that he had magic. But he didn’t prepare for it, he didn’t prepare because he still clung to the blind hope that maybe, just maybe, Arthur wouldn’t find out.

Or: I'm a sucker for Arthur-finds-out-fics and happy endings, so here we are.

Pairing: Merlin/Arthur

Warnings: none!!

Word count: 2.3K

A/N: this is crossposted on AO3 under the same title 

~~~

Of course Merlin knew this day would come. As convincing as he was as the bumbling fool of a man servant, he was actually quite intelligent. So he knew that, one day, Arthur would find out that he had magic. But he didn’t prepare for it, he didn’t prepare because he still clung to the blind hope that maybe, just maybe, Arthur wouldn’t find out.

“I have to leave.” There was no room in Merlin’s voice for argument, but Gwaine was a stubborn bastard.

“Merlin, stop being such an idiot and listen to me,” Gwaine snapped, sitting on the bag Merlin was trying to pack, “Arthur will not have you executed - how could you think he would, after all this time, after everything you’ve been through together, why would he kill you? He loves you Merlin - you know this!”

“He doesn’t, not anymore, not after today. And as for why he would kill me, I don’t know, maybe the fact that I'm a warlock would incite him to personally hoist me onto a pyre and burn me himself!?” He cried hysterically before shoving Gwaine onto the floor so he could continue to pack.

“Fuck me, Merlin, you are aware we’re talking about Arthur, not his father? Actually, better question, have you had your memory wiped? Have you forgotten about the time he helped the druid boy escape? Have you forgotten about the multiple occasions he has disobeyed a direct order and risked his life for you, Merlin? Have you forgotten, or did I hallucinate you telling me all of this? He would not hurt you.” Gwaine stood again, grabbing Merlin by the shoulders and slamming him into his cupboard. He was angry with Merlin for thinking Arthur would do anything to hurt him, but he was even angrier with Arthur for allowing Merlin's imagination to run as wild as it was.

“You’re right, all of that is true - but you’re missing out the parts where he always, always ends up hating magic again. He hates magic, and he hates sorcerers, and he sat by whilst his father killed them, whilst his father killed innocent people! And now he is going to watch me burn, too!”

Gwaine took a step back. He had never seen Merlin like this. He had seen him stressed and tired and angry, but never had he seen Merlin so… hysterical, so completely full of fear. Merlin was shaking so hard that when he tried to tangle his fingers in his hair, he actually missed the first few times, his usually pale skin was blotchy and red, tear tracks highlighting the desperation that simmered beneath his skin. Merlin’s bedroom door creaked open and Lancelot slipped inside, closely followed by Gwen.

Lancelot took in the sight before him, the half packed bag on the bed and the broken, unrecognisable Merlin beside him.

“You’re leaving, then?” He said, arms crossed.

“Yes, he is, bloody fool. I’ve told him that he won’t be executed.” Gwaine said, rolling his eyes as Merlin went back to his bag.

“Merlin, how can we make you see? Arthur will not kill you. His love for you is stronger than his father’s beliefs about magic.” Gwen’s voice was panicked.

“No!” He shouted, taking a deep, calming breath when Gwen flinched, rubbed his hand over the small cut on his neck, and continued, “You were not there. You didn’t see how he reacted.”

~~~

It was supposed to be a simple hunting trip - perhaps thinking it was going to be a simple hunting trip was too much temptation for the universe, who just had to balls it all up. It had only been the two of them, just Arthur and Merlin, alone in the forest for a few days - it was meant to be relaxing, a moment of peace away from the hustle and bustle of the castle, and it had been.

Until today.

As Merlin and Arthur were packing up to return to Camelot, they heard the sound of twigs snapping, the official soundtrack for trouble. At first it seemed to be three, maybe four men sneaking up from the north - which they could handle, but, over the sound of Arthur’s sword being drawn, they could hear five, six, seven more. They were surrounded.

As the bandits moved closer, weapons raised and lips curling into a sneer, Merlin realised that this would likely be it. He would be the first to admit that Arthur was skilled, but even he was going to struggle. Merlin had to do something, otherwise they were both going to die here.

He flinched when they shouted, rushing forwards, and for a moment he wondered if Arthur would have laughed at him. Arthur managed to kill two of the bandits almost immediately, twisting from one the other in a move that would definitely have thrown Merlin's back out, before he was overpowered. A third had Merlin pinned to a tree. The remaining few were advancing on Arthur and-

This is it, he thought.

He raised his hand, took a breath and closed his eyes.

He had never realised how far his voice carried, how the foreign words rolled so naturally off his tongue, how, when spoken aloud for everyone to hear, they seemed to sound that little bit more magical. He never noticed until now, when the bandits had fallen to the leafy floor, dead, before Merlin had even finished the spell. Arthur stood before him, his sword hanging limply from his hand as he watched Merlin’s eyes fade from fiery gold.

“Arthur…” He began, but he didn’t know what to say. The look of betrayal on his face caused any coherent thought to die in his throat.

“You have magic?” Arthur breathed, shrugging helplessly. All Merlin could do was nod and watch as betrayal morphed into confusion, and then pure, unadulterated rage. Arthur lunged forwards, sword now held tightly in a white-knuckle grip, and, with his free hand, he slammed Merlin back into the tree, the sharp blade pressed painfully to his throat.

“Arthur. Please.” He blinked, eyes wide with shock. He had hoped Arthur would surprise him, spare him - but apparently he would have no such luck. He couldn’t very well lie his way out of it now - not that he would want to.

Arthur pressed the blade more firmly against his throat and Merlin tried desperately not to wince. He failed.

“Don’t be so pathetic. How could you betray me like this - after everything I’ve done for you?!” Arthur shouted, so close to his face he could feel spit land on his cheek.

“I’m sorry, my lord - I was going to tell you, I swear, I was just waiting for the right time. I wanted to sit down and talk to you about it, I was-”

“Enough!'' Arthur roared, taking a few steps back. Merlin immediately fell silent and averted his eyes. He used his sword to point to Merlin's horse. “You will leave. Immediately. When I return I do not wish to see you.”

Merlin may have fallen to his knees, had it not been for the tree behind him.

“Arthur, please, can we talk about this?” His voice cracked at the end, a few tears falling when he realised that Arthur wouldn’t even look at him. Merlin nodded and tried to blink away the tears before squaring his shoulders, mounting his horse and riding away.

~~~

The sound of Arthur’s door slamming open echoed through the whole castle, only no one heard because Morgana shouted louder.

“Arthur Pendragon what on earth is wrong with you?”

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose so hard it’s a wonder it didn’t bruise.

“Please, Morgana, feel free to come in, make yourself at home.”

Morgana ignored him, choosing instead to stand toe-to-toe with him, staring him down with a look that would have made a weaker man cry.

“Explain to me why my Gwen has just visited me, in tears, I might add, because Merlin is leaving? How could you let this happen?”

“How could I do this? You have got to be joking. He has lied to me - he has lied to me every single day since we met, and you do not think I have a right to be angry?”

Morgana jabbed him in the chest. “Don’t you dare put words in my mouth. Of course you have the right to be angry, but you should not have left him in fear for his life - it’s heartless!”

“I have given him so much, Morgana, I have risked everything for him time and time again, and all along he has been lying to me. How do I know who he truly is? Magic is evil, Morgana, and those who use it are dangerous, and he has worked his way into my life, into my he-”

“Really?” She said, looking as though she had been slapped in the face. “Magic is evil? You do know it’s me that you’re speaking to, don’t you? The same, scared child who confided in you about bad dreams that seemed to predict the future, all those years ago? The same girl who you swore you would protect if Uther ever found out about my gift. If you put him to death, if you make him leave, it will be over my dead body.”

Arthur had the decency to look ashamed, finally averting his gaze, but he still didn’t look convinced. Morgana took a small step forward, her finger still pressed hard into his chest.

“If you kill Merlin, you will be killing the only person who has ever helped me.” She hissed. Arthur looked up in surprise.

“What do you mean he helped you?”

“The day he arrived in Camelot, he knew I had magic - I’m not sure how - but he committed himself to helping me learn, to helping me control my gift and to use it for good. He is a good man - you know he is a good man, he is your good man and he thinks that you are going to execute him.”

~~~

The other knights had joined Gwaine, Lancelot and Gwen in Merlin’s chambers and for a moment, all Merlin could think was how tiny his bed was, what with six fully grown adults squashed onto it. They had all tried, to varying degrees of failure, to convince Merlin that yes, he should stay and no, Arthur would not kill him.

Leon sighed. “Merlin, we have all known about your magic for some time now - you truly were obvious about it - but you must know that we would never let any harm come to you. If you believe nothing else we’ve said, you must believe that.”

“I do believe you. You are loyal friends, but your loyalty to the King, to Camelot, must come first. I must leave, I must leave so that you do not have to choose a side.” Gwaine clenched his fists and made to move, no doubt to try and shout some sense into Merlin, but Percival held him firmly around the waist.

Gwen rose and stood before him, her hand gripping his forearm, “Merlin, we may not agree with your decision, but we will support you.”

Merlin opened his mouth to thank her, but he was interrupted by Gaius’ door slamming open. Everyone jumped up - everyone except Gwaine, who fell off of Percival’s lap - and stood in front of Merlin, who was trembling again. Only a second later did Merlin’s door crash open, revealing a rather distressed Arthur.

Gwaine got up, planting himself firmly at the front of the group.

“He’s leaving. Let him do so in peace.” Gwaine looked as though he was physically restraining himself from killing Arthur with his bare hands.

“He’s not going anywhere. Not until I’m finished with him.” Arthur said calmly.

“No. I will not let you harm him.” Gwaine swung at Arthur, who ducked and pushed him into Lancelot, who hauled him back.

Merlin was still shaking, but there was a look in his eyes, not quite acceptance - perhaps he was just resigned.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, whatever the King has decided, he will have decided for the good of Camelot. I trust him to do what’s right.”

Arthur tried not to be offended by the skeptical looks he received, he really did, but he couldn’t help forcing the door closed on everyone the moment they left. Merlin kept his gaze fixed on the floor.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He was surprised to find that his voice carried no bitterness, in fact there was an uncharacteristic tenderness lacing his words, and this, he thought, could be what caused Merlin to look at him, to really look at him and see that he wasn’t angry.

“I’m sorry, si- Arthur. I wish I had told you sooner, but you must understand why I didn’t - the danger it would have put me in.”

Arthur stepped forward cautiously and when Merlin made no move to distance himself, arthur placed his hand on merlin’s shoulder, just where it met his neck, and brushed his thumb gently over the thin cut there.

“You are an idiot, Merlin.” Arthur sighed, “ I do understand why you hid it - but you must know that I would never have killed you. Despite what my actions may sometimes suggest, things have changed since my father was king.”

“I know. Of course I know that; it’s down to me having made you less of a royal prat.” Merlin said with a cheeky grin, glad of the normality.

“I’m serious, Merlin. I would never hurt you, no matter what you did or said.” Merlin nodded, leaning into the hand that was still on his neck.

“Good.” Arthur moved his hands to Merlin's hips, pulling him in protectively. “Now how about we get rid of my knights, who are no doubt still at the door, and then you can tell me about all the times I missed your magic.” Merlin simply wrapped his arms around Arthur's neck.

“Come to think of it, a lot of falling branches seem to make sense now.”

[bread-elf]

Where is Jiroki now?

The wind bellowed across the snowy landscape and spurred it along the decaying corpses, frozen by now as remains of Scourge and Cultists lay in heaps. But new cultists always reappeared, and the dead always rise again with having no King to yield control. Leadership of the world gathered in Icecrown often, some having gone beyond the hole in the sky to places no mortals are meant to walk, on the hunt after the Banshee. Rumors often spread of strange lands in the beyond, how there is so much more than any thought possible, but Jiroki always had the personality of a skeptic. But such thoughts steered clear from her mind as she lined her sights, releasing her docked arrow and watching as it penetrates the skull of a ghoul. Quick as can be she pulled out the next one as more came at her, but she had nothing to fear as a large green figure rushed ahead of her. A large staff in hand, bearing a mask fitting for any well practiced Witch Doctor, the troll pummeled a wave of the oncoming corpses with a single blow. They fell in a heap, but more still were on route, and the ones before the Revantusk troll were beginning to piece themselves together again.

Coming from his left an Orc huntress joins him, dual wielding double bladed axes dripping with ichor, wearing her own skull mask more fearsome than the undead she faced, she aids her comrade in the slaughter of the Scourge, giving off an eerie shrill of a laugh every now and then. Jiroki had never dealt with those of the Laughing Skull clan before, but she grew appreciative that she wasn’t the one facing those blades right now. ���Where the hell are they?!” Jiroki sneers out loud to herself as she glances around the blurry snowscape. She had sent some of her mercenaries to infiltrate a burrow where members of the Cult of the Damned lurked, and she started to think she should have gone with them with much time started to tick by. But as if on cue she not only hears but feels a distortment in reality near her, turning in alarm, and out pops a Ren’dorei male she had sent with the others. “Ow, my hip!” Ianasrial, also known as Ian, had bleeding gashes along his torso and arms, but favored his hip as he held a hand on it and nearly buckled at the knees, but he remains standing as he uses his free arm to give a mock salute towards his Shield Mother while nearly doubled over. “We got it, boss! The others are routing back!” “It’s about time.” Jiroki looks back towards the Scourge. Now she was starting to see that they were becoming less organized, not stitching together fast enough as they became feral in their ways. Still very much a big problem, but they can be culled and pushed back now. The Laughing Skull Orc had managed to push herself through the Scourge and descend further, getting too far away for Jiroki’s comfort, and the troll was starting to back track. “Rii’mah be havin’ a spree, I’ll fish for her latah.” Zim’bowa the Witch Doctor speaks, his voice piercing through the wind. “We should meet wit’ de others.” “Yea some of them are battered. But hey, it’s getting easier facing the Scourge each time!” Ian cracks a joke, but earns a glare from Jiroki. “Don’t joke about things like that.” “This is, what, third, fourth time I’m facing the Scourge now? I think I get a fucking pass for making jokes.” Jiroki could hear the lace of void amplifying in Ian’s voice; despite her prude nature, she didn’t need to question Ian’s distaste for the Scourge in the slightest. Without anyone even realizing it Rii’mah had made her return, blood and gore splattered all over her. The stench of death clung to the Orc, making Jiroki’s nose wrinkle, but she didn’t dare show distaste for it around the crazed one. Her head tilted side to side, cracking each way as she let out a breath of satisfaction, blood lust sated for the time being. “Let’s rendezvous with the others and head back, we still have a lot of work to do.” Jiroki is the first to turn and head back to one of the Argent outposts she and her Greyshields were assisting with, and the others followed. ~~~~~~~~ Jiroki carefully cleaned her armor and weapons inside her tent, mindful of the stain of the Scourge and not wanting to accidentally inflict their foul magic on herself. With her stood Drax’ara, doing the same with his own daggers, having gone with the other team that infiltrated and sought the Cultists. They shared the silence, just grateful for one another’s presence in these times. “How are the kids?” Drake ends up asking, the male Kaldorei sitting in a chair as he cleans his weapons, setting the cleaned ones down on a table beside him. “They’re fine, they’re with my sister in Shattrath. Did you want to see them soon?” Jiroki had chosen to stay standing in front of the table, her bow already cleaned but now addressing individual arrows she had retrieved, needing all that can be spared. “Yea, I do. When we have a bit more hands out here though, I don’t want to jeopardize anything.” Setting down his final dagger he stretched his legs forward, wiping his hands down on a cloth and then stretching his arms above his head. “I’m still waiting to hear back from my brothers.” “Hm.” Jiroki tried to keep her focus on her weapons, but her mind raced with current events, and she tried to remind herself to breathe. “Aztook should be back soon, he left to get something from the Black Temple. Once he’s back, you should go see them, before anything else happens.” As if yet again on cue there’s movement from the entrance of her tent. Jiroki half expected to be Aztook her mate in question, but coincidentally enough it was another Demon Hunter. Her half brother, Alldreas, pulled aside the tent flap to peer his sightless gaze in. “Jiroki, we need to talk.” Alldreas had always been prone to pestering Jiroki for fun when they initially first met and even when she had learned they were partially blood related, but that started happening less since Teldrassil burned. So now when he insisted they speak, she knew it was for something. As she turned and left her things there Drake remained in his seat, reaching over to claim one of her arrows to clean for her, and she stepped out into the chill. “What is it?” Jiroki peers up at the taller elf. “Your former enemy Zest and I have encountered some ‘unique’ individuals that you should meet.” Alldreas wore a blindfold that covered his eye, but the blazing fire of fel could be seen through them. “But they’re over in Stormwind, so you need to make haste.” “What? Why should I meet them?” Though Zest now partnered with the Greyshields, he was renown for siding with a Warlock during the Legion invasion who tried to eliminate all the Greyshields, now only running with them out of fear and so that Jiroki could keep an eye on them. “Why are you with Zest anyway? You know not to trust anything he says.” “I don’t trust him, but I implore you to go see these people, for I have seen them myself. They speak of the Shadowlands, and are looking to meet adventurers such as our ilk. This may be a way for us to get more involved and help.” There’s a flare in the fire in his eyes, as if expressing his inner emotions. “Wait, the Shadowlands? But…” Alldreas danced around the subject instead of describing these individuals bluntly. Jiroki grinds her teeth, but she lets out a sigh. “Fine, I needed to head to Stormwind soon anyway, I’ll see them while I’m there. But you’re coming with me.” ~~~~~~~~ Once in Stormwind Alldreas right away led his half-sister to where they had to go, walking to the more deserted and shady parts of Stormwind. Jiroki already started to get uneasy with where they were going, but she trusted Alldreas enough that he would not lead or astray. Or would in the least be the first to catch wind of trouble and alert her. Down an alley they walked until Alldreas stopped dead in his tracks, Jiroki nearly bumping into him as a result. She looks around, seeing no one and nothing out of the ordinary in sight, and she stands beside him to take a look at his face. All he did was just stare ahead. “What is it?” Jiroki asked, a brow raised high. “Is your demon struggling again?” “No, she is cooperating.” Alldreas speaks in return, still staring ahead. “They see us. They will make themselves known when ready.” The hairs on the back of Jiroki’s neck start to stand at that, glancing around now. They were both being watched, assumingly by these people Alldreas wanted her to meet, yet she still had no idea who or what they are. But that doesn’t take long to answer as a figure starts to come from the shadows. “Ah, it is you again.” A rich, exotic, otherworldly, and deep voice speaks towards the demon hunter. “I am impressed you found us so easily; perhaps we need a new approach to this city. Is this the one you had spoken of?” At first Jiroki thought she was looking at an Ethereal, but this was no ordinary one if that. A humanoid figure of clothing and armor with a blue flame flickering behind a floating face guard, taller and much more regal attire compared to the Ethereals that wore mostly wrappings to display their forms. But something stirred in the pit of her stomach, something that told her this thing wasn’t meant to be here, and it caused goosebumps to rise on her skin. “This is my half-sister, and the leader of the mercenaries I run with. She would be the one to speak with about the work you have.” Alldreas redirected the conversation to Jiroki, and the being gave a bow from the waist. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ma’dam. I am called Te’ani; I had heard some wondrous praise of your group of adventurers from your fascinating brother here. I am very much interested in procuring some items from your realm, and he reassured me that you and I could form a business relationship with one another.” Jiroki shot a quick glare towards Alldreas, the two already have spoken more with one another than she had been told, and she looks back to the strange being. “What is it that you have offer in payment? We’re very busy as is.” Her words didn’t seem to face Te’ani, though she couldn’t tell much from him anyway. “My partner and I are still learning the ways of your world’s currency and market value, but we have an assortment of items from where we’re from that should interest you. That, and we have means to guide you to even different realms where you can assist the heroes of your realm.” “What do you mean?” “I come from the Shadowlands. There is much, much, much, to do over there, many souls to be rescued, many planes of existence suffering from the drought that need aid. I know well enough that there is a notorious figure your world wants dead treading the Maw, and they have the upper hand as the Maw’s forces grow stronger. With the terms I discussed with your brother; if you help me procure items from this realm, I can assist with having a stable way for you and yours to go too and fro in the Shadowlands. But I am more than happy to discuss further details with you, since it seems he did not share anything with you.” Jiroki could almost hear the sass coming from the being if that was what it was, and Jiroki looked up to Alldreas once again to see the twitch of a smirk forming at his lips. She nearly growled, but kept herself quiet as she couldn’t deny the curiosity growing inside of her. “I think I’d like to discuss this more with you as well.” Jiroki tried to ease herself into this conversation with this strange being from the land of the dead, but her head already spun with ideas and possibilities, already deep down knowing she had made a decision for herself anyhow. This is a business opportunity she will not refuse.

[illumynare]

Destiny Fic: though lovers be lost (love is not)

Summary: In another world, Shun Li did not survive the Transmission Crisis.

Pairings: Ikora Rey/Shun Li.

Notes: Also available on AO3.

“Hawthorne,” Ikora says to the woman circling her and the other Vanguards. “It’s one thing for us to put our lives on the line, but this doesn’t have to be your fight. You’re not . . .”

As we once were, she thinks, staring at this woman who has saved so many people the Vanguard could not, yet is only fragile flesh and bone. Only ever mortal, never offered the chance of a second life.

She thinks, We were made to protect you.

“A Guardian?” Hawthorne demands, her head held high and proud without doubt, sniper rifle slung over her shoulder as confidently as any Guardian’s weapon. “You think you’ve cornered the market on sacrifice? You forget that we’ve had to survive without the Light all our lives.”

Ikora meets her gaze and the challenge therein.

“No,” says she says. “I don’t.”

#

The first time that Ikora Rey met Shun Li, she wondered if she might have to kill him.

She didn’t know him, then. She was undercover in the Last City on behalf of Osiris—or rather, the orders that Osiris surely would have given, if he were not too consumed by his theories of the Vex—tracking down a black market where certain unscrupulous Guardians sold forbidden artifacts.

Shun was also undercover, hunting the same criminals on behalf of Owl Sector. But Ikora didn’t know that when they arrived at the same door. She only knew that he was using almost identical forged credentials. For a few seconds, she wondered what kind of criminal he was, and if she would have to dispose of him.

Then Shun—who knew her, despite her disguise, from watching a thousand Crucible matches—smiled at the doorkeeper and lied, saying that the confusion in the paperwork was simply due to them being newly married.

In time, Ikora would come to know many of Shun’s faults, but she would always have to give him this: he never hesitated.

#

Io is silent.

The whole solar system is silent to Ikora now. As Warlock Vanguard, Ikora was constantly aware of the thoughts of other Warlocks, the flow of Light between all Guardians. She felt, endlessly, the song of the Traveler and the whispers of the Void.

Ghaul ended that.

Crippled, broken, diminished—her Ghost unable to do more than whisper—Ikora fled to Io, hoping for . . . wisdom, perhaps. Answers.

Hope.

What she finds is dark skies and silence, the absence of the Light. What she finds is guilt.

Because, stripped of the Traveler’s power, with only one life left to lose . . . Ikora is afraid. She is terribly, terribly afraid of dying her final death.

She wonders if she always has been.

#

It took only a few muttered words for Shun and Ikora to realize they were on the same mission. But completing that mission took much longer.

One night turned into a week, and one week turned into three. They successfully bought eight fragments of Ahamkara bones, but it was always through a dealer. The Guardian (or Guardians) who supplied them did not appear.

In the meantime, Ikora and Shun—in their false identities—became familiar to the black market. They noticed people trying to follow them after they left, to see where they lived.

The logical answer was to make the deception complete. Shun rented the apartment; Ikora could not spend all her time there, given her duties as a Warlock, but she was present as often as she could be. Her cover demanded it. Shun cooked for her, and played an arcophone in the evenings.

It was . . . not unpleasant. Ikora had never had any patience for the civilians who groveled at her feet, but Shun was refreshingly free of such reverence. He was no part, either, of the increasingly fractured Tower: the suspicions about Osiris, the whispers against the Speaker, the worship of both. Sometimes he could be infuriatingly glib, but he had a glittering, eager curiosity almost worthy of a Warlock.

Ikora began to look forward to the time she spent with him, haggling in the black market, betting in illegal games, working out their next move in the investigation. The pressure of his hand clasped about hers ceased to be troublesome and became a comfort.

Then came the fragrant, candle-lit midsummer night when they finally were finally allowed to enter the secret courtyard. When they saw a Guardian—his Ghost bobbing dumbly, hopelessly by his shoulder—hold up Ahamkara bones and offer them to the highest bidder.

Ikora drew a gentle breath and reached inside her coat to cock Invective.

Shun cocked his head, grinned, and grasped his knives.

They both fought in the melee that followed. Shun would have expected no less of Ikora, and she would have demanded no less of him. In the end, the rogue Guardian’s brains were splattered against the wall, his Ghost was in Ikora’s palm, and all the details of what transpired where in Shun Li’s report.

They did not return home at once afterwards—not to the Tower, or Owl Sector, or even their false home. Instead they wandered the City, punch-drunk with adrenaline and success and glory. At two in the morning, they were giggling over ramen together; she called him simply “Shun,” and he called her “Korrie.”

Very, very late that night—or absurdly early that morning—they stumbled into their rented apartment together. They grasped, briefly, at each other’s elbows. Lips found lips, and for one moment as they kissed, the only Light that mattered was what crackled between their bodies.

Then they fell into bed and slept curled around each other, as innocent as kittens.

When they woke, they both remembered their duties, and they didn’t speak of what had passed in the night. At least, not exactly. But after they had both made their reports to the Vanguard and been commended, after they were standing together in the Tower courtyard and were the closest thing to a simple Shun and Ikora that could be imagined in daylight—

Then, beneath the shade of a potted tree, Shun turned to Ikora.

“You know,” he said, “there’s an old City law. If two people call themselves married for at least a month, it’s legal.”

The look he slanted at her was bold and hesitant at once. And Ikora, for one moment, imagined responding in kind.

But she was the Traveler’s chosen, destined to live forever, or else to die in horrifying agony when the Darkness overcame her. Shun was simply, helplessly mortal, no matter how much he had aided and comforted her these past few weeks.

Ikora told him as much. And in the end, he accepted her decree.

#

“It’s time I rejoined my fireteam,” says Ikora to the Guardian, gazing up at the dark-and-glowing skies of Io as she readies herself to die.

She has died a hundred deaths at least, maybe more. All those lives, spent so easily—and for what? For her to cower in the shadows, now that she has only one life remaining to lose?

No. Ikora will fight Ghaul, and she will likely die, but as she stares past Io’s horizon, she knows: she will not be defeated again.

(Not like when she was defeated by the Transmission Crisis, not like she was defeated when—)

#

The last time that Ikora saw Shun, he was wrapped inside the clumsy, padded bulk of an isolation rig as he brought her records containing the dark side of Clovis Bray. The rig was nothing like the simple helmet and gloves that Guardians wore even in hard vacuum. Ikora could see only his eyes through the face-plate, and they were . . . tired.

The last time she heard him was through the comms, as he spoke to her from the hospital.

“Restricted leave?” she asked numbly. “What did you do?”

He sighed. “Forgot to put on part of the isolation rig. Too tired. I can't remember yesterday at all. Ramos will take over the duties of Liaison to the Vanguard. You treat her nice, okay? She's nervous.”

Ikora remembered his hand on her shoulder. His mouth against hers. The thousand words that had never seemed quite right to say.

“You,” she said, “rest well.”

She could almost see the smile in his voice as he said, “I will.”

#

“There will be no coming back,” says Ikora to her fireteam, to all her doubts and fears.

“It’s worth it,” says Cayde-6, fearless as ever.

C’mon, Korrie, Shun whispers in her memories, and in her heart, Ikora agrees.

#

The people of the City spoke as if death were only sleeping; they said that their dead “rested in peace.” But Ikora knew it was not so. She had died, and found only dark loneliness. She had lived, and found the ones she cared for gone.

She remembered, over and over, her fatal conversation with Acting Liaison Ramos:

The Hidden, the Witches, and our research corps may have had a breakthrough, using the information that Berriole has unearthed. We think we can neutralize this mite. The only problem is, we might kill Shun in the process.

Are you waiting for permission?

It seemed respectful to ask.

Do it, and the Traveler's Light shine on you.

But the Traveler’s Light, perhaps, was only for Guardians. The experimental treatment cobbled together so quickly and desperately . . . did not work for anyone still human. The Guardians infected with the Mite were set free. But Shun, cold in his coffin, paid the price.

Ikora, standing in a Tower that now felt strangely empty, tithed on that price over and over.

#

Ghaul has been dead for months, the Traveller and the Guardians restored for that much time as well. Ikora has found a courage that she didn’t fully own before, and it straightens her spine as she stands at her place in the Tower.

Sometimes she remembers Shun Li. Sometimes she mourns him, and wishes he could have been more to her. But Ikora is a Warlock, both the question and the answer. Whatever remains unfinished in her, she will find a way to complete.

At last there comes a day—the air is sweet and lazy with summer—when Ikora stands in the Tower, hands clasped behind her back, and almost does not mourn. Almost, she is at peace.

Five new Guardians have already been raised since Ghaul’s defeat, so Ikora no longer fears that the power of the Traveler is somehow spent. When she hears that a newly-raised Warlock has come to the Tower, she nods and says calmly, “Show him in.”

She will help this new Warlock. It’s her duty and her joy, for which she once abandoned Shun, and she still hasn’t lost that prize.

But when Ikora turns to him, her breath stops in her throat. Because the ragged cloak of a newly-raised Warlock is familiar, and so is the plain shell of the Ghost at his side, but the Guardian himself—

It’s Shun.

Ikora has never believed that the Light and the Traveler have any kindly purpose in whom they raise as Guardians, but maybe now she does.

Maybe it’s time for her to stop being surprised by what mere mortals can do.

“So I hear I’m a . . . ‘Guardian’?” he says, and there’s so much missing from his curious gaze that doesn’t recognize her, but there’s so much she loves and knows still there. “Don’t remember my name, though.”

“I do,” says Ikora, and crosses the little courtyard to him, takes his hands. “Your name is Shun.”

[bytheangell]

Form a Connection

(Read on AO3) Square Filled: Omegaverse for @shadowhunterbingo Pairing: Raphael/Jace/Simon  Rating: Teen – Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Tags: alpha/beta/omega dynamics, mentions of fertility issues but it isn’t the focus, true mates, happy ending Summary:   Jace, after years of taking suppressants to be able to patrol and hunt with the Alphas and Betas, finds his world turned on its head when a chance encounter with his True Mates brings everything about himself he's ever fought against rising to the surface. -------------

It’s a big mission. Most of Jace’s missions are routine missions, despite his best efforts to match up with the Alphas and Betas normally sent out on them. He knows that Alec is trying, that the orders don’t come from him, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less when the best assignments are given to everyone but him, even if being the only Omega on constant active duty is a huge deal in and of itself.

Once and a while, though, Alec manages to get him on something properly exciting - and the raid on the Hotel Dumort is nothing if not exciting, just not for the reasons Jace expects.

A fledgling is causing trouble in the city, wanted for a few mundane murders, and they’re going in to extract her for questioning. No lethal force if at all necessary, which means some pretty good fights are bound to break out from anyone trying to interfere - like the vampires currently trying to block his path.

That’s when Jace smells them, and in that moment he feels his entire world stop, just for a second.

It’s the longest, most life-altering second of his entire life; because Jace isn’t being drawn to another Shadowhunter, which is expected, or even a mundane, which would be frowned upon but ultimately tolerated. No, Jace just rounded a corner to bring his seraph blade up to the throat of a vampire, with another vampire immediately lunging to pull him off. The first one, who looks rightfully terrified, smells sweet, almost like the vanilla hazelnut coffee Jace is so fond of from the place near the Institute. The angry one, done up in a suit that looks like it’s worth more than Jace has spent on every piece of clothing he’s ever worn in his entire life, smells of leather and patchouli.

They’re the most wonderful scents that Jace has ever smelled and it’s so overwhelming that he loses focus and closes his eyes, just for a moment. At first, all of his instincts seem to kick into overdrive at once: he wants more, he needs more, leaning towards the scents. Then he remembers where he is - he remembers who he is and what they are - and his eyes snap back open as he takes two fumbling steps back.

They make no move to attack Jace now that he dropped his blade, however, and seem to be staring back at him with the same surprised (and possibly a little bit horrified) look of realization as they take him in in turn.

“Raphael…?” The one Jace attacked starts, his words slow and hesitant.

“Carajo,” the vampire in the suit, Raphael, curses in a low tone.

“I-” Jace starts, still processing, before turning abruptly and leaving without another word. The other vampire must make a move to follow him because a forceful “Simon, let him go” is the last thing Jace hears behind him before he’s out of earshot, walking straight out of the Dumort and back to the Institute.

---

Jace barely sleeps that night. Alec is concerned after he vanished without checking in but Jace insists he’s fine and eventually Alec stops asking, at least for now. Not that it matters, because not talking about it doesn’t keep it from his mind.

He wants nothing more than to go back to the Dumort and feel the comfort of Raphael’s scent again. They’re meant to be mates, he knows it, and he thinks the vampire does, too. Of all the Alphas in the world… and he has a Beta already, too. Raphael’s scent was all over Simon, there’s no doubt about it.

Fuck.

He can’t do it. He’s ostracized by the Downworlders enough for who his family is… Valentine raised him, after all, and even if he isn’t around any longer his legacy sure as hell is. And even if Jace did accept this attraction there’s no way any Downwolder would be with him. Not even…

Jace doesn’t want to admit that the pull he felt was more than the average desire. He always thought all that talk of true mates was romantic nonsense but here he is practically drowning in the memory of it. Maybe Raphael didn’t notice - Jace has taken suppressants since before he was even old enough to present as an Omega and with any luck it was enough for Raphael to forget about him.

Any hopes of that being true are dashed the next day when Jace, in the Ops Center with Alec to go over some plans for the week’s missions and patrols, looks up to see Raphael being escorted inside by the two Shadowhunters on guard duty.

Jace’s anxiety spikes and Alec senses it immediately, turning to face Raphael while moving defensively in front of Jace.

“What are you doing here?” Alec snaps.

“I wanted to return this,” Raphael says, stopping where he is a few feet away from them to hold up a dagger. It’s Jace’s dagger, the one he dropped last night before he fled. Raphael looks beyond Alec to Jace who promptly averts his gaze to the papers in front of him. “And I wanted to speak to him.”

“He’s right here,” Alec says, not moving. Jace is grateful because he can smell Raphael from here and it only confirms his suspicions from the night before. He’s never had this sort of physical reaction before… he wants to hate it but he doesn’t. It feels right. What he does hate is how right it feels.

“Alright,” Raphael says, turning his gaze from Alec back to Jace. “Is that what you want? For me to discuss this here, in the middle of a room full of your colleagues?”

Jace swallows thickly. No. He hasn’t even told Alec… he can’t have the entire Institute knowing, he just can’t.

“No,” Jace says quickly. “I’ll speak to him. It’s alright, Alec.” He knows there’s no way Alec believes that, not with the spike in panic tainting everything around him, souring the air.

Alec looks at him in concern. “Jace, what is it?” Alec asks him quietly. “If this vampire’s threatening you-”

“It isn’t that,” Jace promises. “It’s-” Jace starts, but stops again, shaking his head. “I’ll tell you later. I swear it. But I need to talk to Raphael alone first. It’s okay. Really, it is.”

“I promise not to touch a hair on his perfectly styled head,” Raphael swears.

Jace is already walking off towards a side hallway, motioning for Raphael to follow him to an empty room before shutting the door behind them and placing both locking and silencing runes on the door.

Inside, the scent of Raphael is overwhelming, even more so than the night before when he rushed toward Jace to throw him off Simon. Raphael can sense Jace’s hesitation and keeps his distance.

“Thank you for speaking with me,” Raphael starts. “Jace, was it?”

Jace nods. “And you’re Raphael.”

It isn’t a question but the vampire nods in response just the same.

“Now that the pleasantries are out of the way-”

“Don’t,” Jace cuts him off. “I can’t- we can’t- this can’t happen. I’m sorry.”

Whatever Raphael is expecting, it isn’t that. “Sorry?”

“I can’t be with a Downworlder. You’d never be accepted here, and my father-” Jace shakes his head. “My father’s Valentine. He raised me. I can’t exist in your world.”

“So you think you can make decisions for me? You don’t even know me,” Raphael says, tone strained as he tries to control his frustration. The air in the room seems to sour at once and Jace feels nauseous. He needs to get out.

“I don’t,” Jace admits. “And I never will.”

With that he walks out of the door, telling the two guards lingering nearby to escort Raphael back outside now.

---

Alec finds Jace in the training room shortly after.

“Talk,” Alec demands, not even waiting for the punching bag Jace is hitting to swing to a stop in front of him.

“I think Raphael’s my true mate,” Jace says, not bothering to stall. He promised Alec he’d explain so there’s no point in trying to avoid it now.  “Maybe Simon, too? Can you have more than one? I dunno, I didn’t stay long enough to sort it out.” 

“That’s why you left the raid,” Alec realizes, finally able to put the pieces together.

“Yeah,” Jace admits. “I was hoping I could just ignore it. I’ve been on the suppressants for so long I figured it might block it from him, but it didn’t. He came here to talk about it.”

“And?” Alec asks, his tone gentle and patient. He knows how difficult this is for Jace.

“And I told him it isn’t going to happen,” Jace says flatly. “Can you imagine? I’ve heard what the other Shadowhunters say about the vampires, I’ve seen how they treat them and the warlocks for being unnatural. I can’t bring them into that.”

Vampires and warlocks are sterile, even the Alphas, something the Nephilim frequently look down on them for even more than the other Downworlders. For a Nephilim to tie themselves to one of them for life is no light matter.

“And with my father…” Jace frowns. “His people would hate him for even considering bringing me into their lives. They’d never trust him again. I can’t do that to him, either.”

“Jace…” Alec starts slowly, sensing Jace’s frustration and pain at what he’s denying himself. “Wouldn’t this be good for you? With your suppressants...”

Everyone knows that there’s a serious risk of infertility issues with suppressants. His father knew when he started giving them to him, and Jace was old enough to understand the risk when he decided to keep taking them. He’d do anything to keep going on missions with Alec and Isabelle, anything to not be further ostracised from the Alphas and Betas the way he saw other Omegas his age were. He’s never allowed himself to get attached enough to anyone else long enough for them to even consider him as a mate, figuring the longer he stayed detached the longer it wouldn’t be an issue for someone other than himself.

Being with a vampire would make it a non-issue. It’d make that aspect of Jace’s life easier, but for Raphael and Simon being mated to him would only bring them trouble; they had nothing to gain and everything to lose, and he’ll be damned if that drive to nurture and protect isn’t overriding everything more than usual just then, even his own well-being.

“No,” Jace repeats firmly. “I can’t do it, Alec. It’s for the best. He has Simon, he’ll be fine.”

“I’m not worried about him, Jace. I’m worried about you.” Alec pushes.

“I’ll be fine,” Jace says, knowing the words are a lie. It’s a lie he’s said so many times that he almost believes it himself now. Maybe if he says it often enough, it’ll come true. “I’m always fine.”

---

The intense heat Jace goes into that night is unexpected. His suppressants usually stop them entirely and the few he has experienced were mild. This one comes on suddenly and even now, just at the start, it’s stronger than any he’s experienced in the past… maybe stronger than all of them combined. He tells Izzy to take him off any assignments for the foreseeable future and locks himself inside his room, refusing to speak to or see anyone.

Jace takes every blanket and pillow in his possession and makes a nest in the back corner of his closet. It’s cramped and small and dark, with no scent other than his own and the slightest hint of Alec and Isabelle that always lingers around him, the only other people who occasionally spend time with him in his room. It isn’t enough to bring him comfort. He knows what will since he can’t help the instinctive desire for Raphael and Simon’s scents intruding into his thoughts no matter how desperately he pushes the urge back down, but he refuses to ask for it.

Instead, he gives a loud whine as he buries himself as deep into the corner as he can, which isn’t that much further than he already is. The stone wall around him provides little relief against the spike in his temperature leaving him overheated and uncomfortable no matter how he positions himself. He can’t focus, can’t think for more than a few seconds before the seesaw of lightheadedness and nausea flare up again.

Even Alec’s voice from the other side of his bedroom door barely reaches him, but he does catch some of it despite his best efforts to ignore him.

“Jace, please let me in. At least let me bring you something to eat, or drink.”

“It’s been hours, just let us know you’re alright.”

“Don’t make me break this door down, Jace.”

It’s an empty threat, Jace thinks. He has no idea how many hours, possibly even days, have passed, the blur of his fever haze distorting any sense of time. But even Alec wouldn’t barge in on him like this, no matter how worried he is; he wouldn’t contaminate Jace’s nest during his heat like that, not if Jace wants him out.

“Just leave me alone!” Jace shouts at some point, hoping it’s enough. He shouldn’t turn Alec away - he’s hungry and dehydrated and isn’t sure if the brief moments of respite he gets are sleep or passing out - but he struggles to power through on his own, the way he always has before… not that this is like anything he’s experienced before.

The next time he hears Alec’s voice it’s softer than before. “I know you don’t want me to come in,” Alec starts. “And please don’t be mad at me but… I brought someone else in to help. Please let them.”

And then a voice that sounds like music to his ears in his current state.

“Jace? It’s Raphael. I’m here with Simon. I’d like to come in, if you’d allow me to.”

Jace wants nothing more. It’s all he’s wanted from the start, especially considering it was likely Raphael’s scent that broke through his suppressants and brought all of this on in the first place. Just hearing Raphael’s voice eases something inside of him, and he can only imagine filling the room with his scent.

“You shouldn’t… be here…” Jace manages, but his voice is weak and he hates how fragile it sounds in his own ears. He isn’t sure they can even hear him on the other side of the door.

“Yes, I should. I think you know that as well as I do,” Raphael insists. “May I come inside?”

It’s the fact that Raphael asks again, rather than asserting authority and insisting, that finally breaks Jace.

“Yes,” he chokes out, curling around himself as a wave of lightheadedness passes over him again. “Please.”

Jace hears the door open and close again. “It’s just me,” Raphael says. “But if you want anyone else just tell me and I’ll get them. I brought water and some protein bars that Alec says you like. I can toss them into the closet for you?”

“Yes,” Jace says again, too disoriented to focus on more than that at the moment. Raphael’s small movements are enough to push his scent further into the room, into Jace’s small, safe space, and it’s so much of the comfort he’s craved since this started.

Jace manages to drink some of the water and eat one of the bars.

“I hope it’s alright that I came,” Raphael says, speaking in a soothing, comforting tone. “Alec called me. He said that he’s never seen you get this bad.”

“Did he say… why?” Jace asks, silently cursing Alec for telling Raphael anything, even if it was for his own good.

“No,” Raphael admits, and Jace relaxes with the knowledge that Alec kept his privacy. “And you don’t have to tell me. You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to. I know you don’t want me here-”

“I do,” Jace cuts in.

“Oh?” Raphael sounds surprised.

His head is swimming. He’s exhausted and for the first time since this began he thinks he might actually be able to fall asleep.

“I’ll tell you, just… later?” Jace knows he sounds desperate but it isn’t a conversation he wants to have here, not like this.

Raphael, thankfully, understands. “Do you want me to leave you alone again?”

Jace considers this. So far he hasn’t even seen the vampire - Raphael stayed outside of the closet, in Jace’s room. He doesn’t know him well enough to want him any closer just now, instincts or not. They’re strangers, and Jace knows he walked away from his chance to talk before, knows he has no right to ask him to stay now, but he does it anyway.

“No. Could you stay a bit? Simon can come in, too. And use the bed, or the chairs, if you want.” Jace can hear from where Raphael’s voice is coming from that he’s sitting on the floor.

There are some noises that seem lightyears away and then Simon is there, his sent mixing with Raphael’s in that perfect fusion Jace remembers from the raid. They stay there with him, sometimes talking to him, sometimes talking to each other, other times in total silence, for the next two days, leaving only to bring him food and water.

Yet Jace can’t help the nagging fear in the back of his head of what the others must think, of what they’ll be saying… the rumors and judgments…

He’s equal parts relieved and terrified when he feels well enough to come out and face them, but he can’t stay hidden away forever.

“How are you feeling?” Raphael asks him almost immediately, worry etched into his expression behind pinched brows and a slight frown.

“Better, thanks to you two.”

“Well, it seems only fair since I have a suspicion this has something to do with our encounter,” Raphael says. True mates have been known to cut through the effects of suppressants, glamours, and other spells, something Raphael must have already put together.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Jace says, defaulting to sarcasm and deflecting, even though it’s true.

Simon laughs as Raphael rolls his eyes.

“The others, while you’ve been here, have they been- did they treat you alright?” Jace almost doesn’t want to ask, but he has to know. He knows Alec would, he’s the one who brought them here, but some of the others barely manage to treat Jace decently half the time, and that’s with Alec’s constant protection and threats hanging over their heads.

“Some have,” Raphael admits honestly. “Others not so much. It’s what I expected being in the heart of the Nephilim Institute.”

“You should’ve left,” Jace sighs. “I never should’ve asked you to stay.”

“Are you kidding?” Simon says. “All Raphael did after you left was talk about you and-”

“That’s enough of that,” Raphael cuts him off, but it’s too late. Jace perks up significantly at that knowledge.

“Oh yeah?” Jace manages a slight smirk.

“It wasn’t all I did,” Raphael glares at Simon. “But I was hoping we’d have another chance to at least talk. I wasn’t quite picturing this, of course.”

“Neither was I,” Jace agreed. “But I meant what I said before. It’s not worth the trouble.”

“You mean ‘you’re’ not worth the trouble?” Simon huffs. “Why don’t you let us decide that.”

Jace looks from Simon to Raphael with uncertainty. Why? Why would they want to deal with the harassment and the judgment, just for him? They don’t even know him.

Then again, he doesn’t even know them, and he was already willing to let himself suffer to do what he thought was best for them over his own needs. Is it really so impossible for him to imagine they feel the same?

“My father-”

“Is Valentine,” Raphael fills in, sounding unphased and almost bored. “And you are not your father.”

There’s another long silence.

“We’re not the only ones with something to lose, Omega.” The use of Jace’s status rather than his name is all the insinuation he needs to know what Simon is referring to.

“That isn’t a problem,” Jace says quietly. “I’ve been on suppressants since I was a kid… it was the only way I was allowed to train and go on missions with the others, and, well, even if I was with another Nephilim I don’t think children are in my future.”

Jace doesn’t even realize as he said the words how personal of an admission it is, almost forgetting he’d kept it a secret from everyone other than Alec after the doctors more or less confirmed it to be the case. Normally he’d change the subject, but Raphael and Simon? Jace wanted to tell them. He wanted to let them in, to try at least, even if it turned them away to learn the lengths he’d gone to deny who and what he is as much as possible.

Jace went so far out of his way to avoid this very scenario - one where he’s out of commission for days on end, at the whims of hormones out of his control - one where he appears as weak as everyone expects him to be. This isn’t the strong, furious Shadowhunter who attacked Simon at the Dumort, all power, skill, and control, and that comparison is made even worse by the fact that his suppressants left him unused to heats this intense. He must seem like a total disaster.

Jace wouldn’t blame them for taking one look at him and deciding he isn’t worth the hassle…. except they aren’t going anywhere.

“I’m sorry, Jace,” Simon says. Jace is surprised to see genuine sorrow on both of their faces.

“I appreciate you trusting us with that,” Raphael adds.

“You really think we can make this work?” Jace asks. He’s clearly not good at this part of things - it’s going to be difficult to get used to and he’s going to need a lot of help, they have to realize that. And still...

“I think we owe it to ourselves to try,” Raphael says, and Simon nods emphatically beside him.

“There’s plenty you don’t know about us, too. You may decide we’re not worth it in the end.”

Jace snorts. “Yeah, right,” he says, realizing just how invested he really is after the short period of time he’s known them. It should terrify him, but it doesn’t. He wants to make this work, and for the first time Jace allows himself to imagine he might have something serious in his future.

“Alright,” Jace agrees at last. “But first I need to shower for about half a day. Maybe… maybe we can get a drink tomorrow night, and talk some more?”

“Yes! I knew you’d come around. And I know the perfect place-” Simon exclaims, starting to ramble before catching himself and snapping his mouth shut, looking over to Raphael. “I mean, uh, what do you think?”

Raphael, who does his best to look exasperated before his expression softens, finally smiles.

“I think we know the perfect place.”

Jace doesn’t bother to ask where - he’s already pretty certain that the perfect place is wherever the three of them can be together, which is just fine by him.

[tailah-haderson-gilbert]

Day 19/31 of writing everyday

Hey all! It’s 562 words today, but it was a struggle because I'm exhausted. went swimming with my nephews and it tired me out.  It’s part of the sit down universe!! I love these characters. If you wanna read the previous parts check out the hashtag #sit down universe

Disclaimer: light swearing, homophobia, mentions of cells and being taken in, and it’s in a court room.

P.S. I do not edit these.

He couldn’t believe how this past week had gone, From cuddling with his boyfriend to being hunted by the royal guards then thrown into a cell to now standing in front of all royal adjacent people in the Queen’s court room. How had his life taken this drastic turn, then again it started when his parents died.

Isaac was in the audience waiting his turn to speak, he couldn’t convince him to leave, and he hated himself for it. They were both going to die now because they will be thought of as warlocks. Adien hated this world they lived in, how can loving someone make you magical? That doesn’t make any sense.

But he sat, as they read the ‘evidence’ aloud. He didn’t cower, slough or even breath the wrong way. He didn’t want to give them the opportunity to think Isaac wrong, not when he was willing to out himself.

“Isaac Knight, please step forward” the judge spoke, voice addressing the whole room as if to say ‘don’t pull anything there is an audience’. But Isaac is good, he couldn’t do anything bad if there was a gun pointed at his head, and that’s why he’s here. He couldn’t let him die without trying to help.

“Now, you were with the accused 8 nights ago?” Isaac clears his throat to respond, taking a breath to calm himself falling into a recount of that night.

Adien hated this, of feeling like a teenager sneaking into his boyfriend's house. But they had to, the world hated that there were people like them, that they could do magic because of it. So here he was, standing outside Isaac’s window waiting for the man to come out (no pun intended, literally, because they would die). They snuck away like this for a few hours, so be able to be their real selves and not have to worry about others ears.

So away they stalked into the night, to their stop under the trees at the beginning of the forest. Their safe space, Until voices were heard. So Adien sent Isaac home only to be attacked and pinned to the ground and taken back to the palace.

The murmurs from the crowd grew forcing the judge to raise his voice to silence them. How could this even work, surly Syeda knew what she was doing when she brought Isaac here?

Now for the questions

“You were with each other the whole night?” well until i was dragged away by the royal guard, yeah.

“How do we know for sure?” if you look on Isaac’s right upper thigh near his groin, there is an abundance of hickies that I put there earlier in the night and that should be almost faded,

“How do we know you both aren’t in kahoots?” you don’t, but I don’t kill people

“But this means they’re *whispers* warlocks?” no you asshat, we’re just in love.

“What happens if he is innocent?” I live my life?

None of our answers mattered, they had already made up their minds before we had even walked into the room. But the thing that surprised the whale room was when the Queen decided to speak for the first time.

“They’ll stay at the palace, working for me. There will be people anywhere and if there is any magic use, well we will end up back here”

So? how’s it turning out? I really like this and my new world!

Day 18 - Day 20

[faejilly]

ashes of roses 1/3

a direct sequel to yesterdays’ ashes of angels, because I needed some consequences and recovery. (And some h/c, let’s be honest here, I always want some comfort in my fic.)

My @shadowhunterbingo Square: Magic (Because I made up a bunch of lore in the background while writing the prequel, and I needed to do something with it!)

It hit Alec a few days later.

He had work to do first, before he could let it. He talked to Consul Jia Penhallow, situated the prisoners, arranged for extra guards, adjusted the patrol schedules, collated and forwarded all the evidence they'd gathered to Acting-Inquisitor Patrick Penhallow and the City of Bones. He informed the LA Institute of all the addresses Freeman and her people had admitted to using so they could do a sweep for any additional evidence. Consul Penhallow assured him they were going through all known Freeman properties in Idris, as well, and he made himself believe her.

There wasn't anything he could do about it if she wasn't.

After all that, he was done, and he went home.

He went to Magnus, and he hadn't meant to interrupt his work, he hadn't, but he saw him and he couldn't... he couldn't do it anymore.

He didn't even remember walking through the apothecary, but finally he was there where he needed to be. Magnus turned to greet him, and that was more than Alec could take.

Magnus made a soft grunt of surprise as Alec made impact, literally flinging himself into Magnus and wrapping his arms around him.

"Alexander," his voice was soft, and the touch of his fingers was too light, as if his hands were hovering, uncertain when Alec desperately needed him to be sure.

Alec whined, and tucked his face into Magnus' neck, and clung tighter.

"Oh." Magnus' arms finally settled, finally embraced him back, and Alec let go, felt himself shaking, his eyes dry and his lungs burning.

"Oh, darling," Magnus' voice was lower this time, and his arms tightened.

Alec had no idea how long he stood like that, falling apart in the one place he knew it was safe to do so.

Eventually he stopped shaking, and he could breathe again.

But he didn't want to let go.

Magnus didn't make him, just adjusted them enough that they were side-by-side instead of tangled together, enough that he could walk Alec to the couch and pull them both down onto it.

Alec knew he needed to say something, needed to let some of this out, but he didn't have any words, nothing beyond a wordless howl in the back of his head, some desperate, terrified sense of what could have happened.

"Do you know why they call it pixie dust?" Magnus asked, his fingers stroking through Alec's hair, his voice low and soothing.

Alec almost sobbed in relief, that somehow Magnus knew, knew he couldn't talk yet, knew that more information always helped. He cleared his throat. He could say this, he thought. This was just data. "It's because it's not poisonous to the fae, right?"

"Mm-hmm." Magnus nodded, still gentle and slow. "For them it's just an aphrodisiac. Increased physical sensitivity, a warm flush of attraction, that sort of thing."

Alec shuddered. He supposed that he'd felt warm, but that certainly wasn't where it stopped.

"Do you know how they make it?"

Alec shook his head.

"It's not made of pixies or something terrible like that, you know."

Alec rolled his eyes and managed to scoff.

Magnus huffed out a soft breath. "I'm not sure if that meant I'm stating the obvious or not, but I'm going to keep going. Good?"

Alec tilted his head in half a nod, and let his weight settle a little more against Magnus' body.

"It's made of ground up siren's scales, burned rose petals, and passionflower pollen, though the flowers have to have been grown by a warlock or a fae, or in a magical realm." Magnus' voice settled into an almost sing-song rhythm, like he was lecturing a class, and Alec felt the first faint stirrings of a smile. "Most people use honey to bind the ingredients together, and there are various arguments about which sort of honey works best, but I've never seen any convincing evidence that that matters. You cannot use maple syrup though." Magnus shuddered, as if horrified that someone had even tried.

Alec wondered why someone had, because clearly there was a story behind that, but he supposed he could ask about that some other day.

"The part that makes it strong enough to work so effectively on the fae, however, is the Eidolon pheromones infused into the ingredients while they're dried into a powder."

Oh.

That. That did explain a lot.

"Eidolon pheromones are part of what make them so successful at seducing their victims of course; the body is comfortable with them even when the mind might notice that something's wrong with their impersonation of a loved one." Magnus' voice had less of a lilt now, his pronunciation very controlled and precise.

That was why Alec would have reacted to anyone he touched, why he wouldn't have had any choice...

He felt the tremble starting in his hands again, and pushed them hard against the couch arm behind Magnus to hold them still.

Magnus leaned back to help pin them, and squeezed his arms around Alec's shoulders. "It is the part that also makes it dangerous to everyone else, to various degrees."

Alec grunted at that, a lift to his voice trying to ask his question for him.

"What does it do to other people?" Magnus asked.

Alec nodded.

"Well, for werewolves it reacts to their shapeshifting; it forces a change. Werewolf hunters use it when hunting so the body will be in werewolf form when it dies."

So they could harvest the skin and teeth, Alec knew. He gagged a little at the thought.

"Yes, exactly," Magnus agreed, fingers squeezing once more around Alec's shoulder before giving a very soft tug to the end of Alec's hair. "For vampires it has no aphrodisiac properties at all, it just makes them viciously ill for two days, and there's absolutely nothing anyone can do to mitigate the symptoms."

He seemed too still, and Alec gathered there was something he wasn't saying. He managed to lift his head, to look at Magnus directly, to raise one hand and offer a touch to Magnus' cheek.

Magnus smiled at him, and his eyes were sad. "If they're not restrained, they frequently try and kill themselves somewhere around the 36 hour mark."

Alec lowered himself back down to wrap his arms around Magnus, squeezing as tightly as he could. He wasn't sure if someone Magnus had known had succeeded, or if he'd had to watch them try, had to watch them in that sort of pain without being able to do anything about it. He nuzzled his nose against Magnus' collarbone, trying to offer comfort for something he could barely imagine.

Magnus hugged him back, and kissed the top of his head. "Thank you, darling."

Alec hummed.

"Warlocks react similarly to the fae if they're dosed directly. A mostly harmless aphrodisiac, though it is very like being drunk, a little mentally compromised." Magnus paused, and Alec had a feeling he wouldn't like the next thing he said. "However, they're susceptible to secondary transmission in exactly the same way Nephilim are."

Alec gagged again, and curled in to protect the sudden sharp ache in his gut.

"Shhh," Magnus sat up to curl over him, breath warm against the back of Alec's neck. "It's fine, we're both fine."

"I can't, stop thinking, I can't," Alec was shaking again, and this time he was crying, tears too hot and burning as they dripped down his cheeks. "What if I hadn't recognized it?"

"I know." Magnus swallowed so hard that Alec could hear it, could feel it as an echo of his own bone deep horror. He felt the drop of water on the back of his neck, Magnus' tears spilling over too. "I know."

Alec's fingers dug into Magnus' arm, and he knew he was gripping too tight, knew it had to hurt, but he couldn't, he couldn't, he practically clawed his way into Magnus' lap, pushing his head into Magnus' shoulder. "I would have hurt you."

"It wouldn't have been you," Magnus clung back, and it was only the sharp points of his fingernails digging into Alec's shoulders that seemed to be keeping him in one piece. "It would never be you."

"It would have felt like me," Alec whispered, and Magnus reached up to cradle his face between his palms, to draw him up until Magnus could kiss him, the taste of salt scalding between their lips.

"It would never," Magnus repeated, and kissed him again. "Never."

Alec shuddered, and cried, and tried to believe him.

He didn't manage it, but by the time he'd cried himself out he felt a little better, a little lighter.

It hadn't happened. He held on to that. It had to be enough.

Magnus kissed the top of his head, and shifted his shoulders, and Alec sighed. They ought to move to bed, but he was too tired. He closed his eyes, and felt Magnus tug the blanket off the back of the couch so it would fall on top of them.

They'd get up later.

For now they'd rest, just like this.

Together.

[alexanderlightweight]

worth the risk

ao3 link

Alec generally wasn’t taken unawares, however he also didn’t normally go walking the streets of New York unglamoured.  Apparently, this was a night for surprises.

Alec stared at the four mundanes advancing on him and mentally groaned.  He could, technically, take them all out quickly and efficiently.  However he was tired, already irked at Izzy and Jace having taken off to go party and pissed at the idea of being left to handle their reports.  

The thought of a mundane altercation was not something he wanted to deal with.  

It would honestly, almost just be easier to let them mug him.  Any injuries he sustained would be quickly healed by an iratze, he could defend himself just enough to ensure no true damage was made and then he wouldn’t have to deal with the potential headache of accidentally breaking a mundane.  Normally he trusted his self-control but at the moment, shattering several of the bones of idiot mundanes was very appealing.  

Almost too appealing and he frowned, trying to remember if he’d activated his calm anger rune or not before the hunt.  

There was a loud bang and Alec caught the scent of magic, ozone and some strange earthiness that lingered as a man stepped out from a dark doorway and into the alley.  Alec wasn’t sure who was more surprised, the mundanes, Alec or the man but before anyone could do much, the newcomer stepped between them, catching the first clumsily thrown fist with a tut before twisting the mundane back around and shoving the offender away.  

“This is not the place for back alley brawls,” he told them sternly, voice menacing as he stood tall and Alec watched as his coat flared out.  Filigrees of gold and red caught the lamplight and when one of the mundanes tried again, this time he gave no mercy. Alec was tempted to step in but from the way the man moved, he didn’t need to.  A booted heel came down on the tender crown of a foot, elbow up and catching on a face with a sickening thud. There was a sharp cry and then the mundanes were fleeing.  

“You alright there, pretty boy?”  

“I’m fine.”  Alec said and licked his lips as the man stepped towards him, “do you always lurk about dark alleys rescuing people?”  Alec asked, his mouth dry as he appreciated the man in front of him. He’d never been rescued before and strangely enough, it was something of a thrilling experience.  

“Not at all.  Though I might have to change that if it leads me to meeting someone like you.”  

“Well we’ve met now, so I don’t think you have to continue putting yourself at risk.”  Alec said and he stumbled a little but was mostly proud of himself for managing to make words.  

“No risk."  His rescuer assured, “and quite well worth it.  Does my aid earn me a name?”  

“Alec, I’m Alec.”  

“Magnus.  You know, being ambushed is quite an adrenaline boost, can I buy you a drink or something to eat?  Soothe your senses with something calming?”

“I’m not-“ Alec paused, wanting to say yes and wondering what was stopping him.  At the very least, Magnus had just saved him from an evening of paperwork.

Apparently though, Magnus misunderstood because the man stepped back, “Apologies.  You’ve had a harrowing night, I’d understand if going out with a stranger would be awkward.”  

“We’re not strangers.  I mean, you told me your name.”  Alec said, conveniently ignoring the fact that he normally demanded a background check before spending any amount of time with just anyone, “and you saved me.”  

If Jace had been there, his brother would have laughed at him but Alec found that he really didn’t mind not being the protector and maybe just once, he didn’t mind the thought of breaking some rules either. 

“I did, though you certainly look like you could have saved yourself.”  Magnus winked as he spoke, giving Alec a deliberate once over and Alec hoped the alley was dark enough to hide his blush.

“Maybe,” Alec hedged and he looked the man over.  There was no obvious mark about him, but Alec knew to trust his senses and he also knew better to check now rather than have it blow up on him later, “but doing that would have been such a mundane hassle.”  

Magnus blinked, immediately catching onto his wordplay and his eyes narrowed, flaring in a way that could be blamed on the flickering lights of New York before his gaze settled on Alec’s deflect rune.  

For a moment, Alec wondered if things would change, if the offer for comfort and company would be rescinded -after all it would be a completely reasonable though disappointing outcome.  Instead Magnus stepped forward, the click of his boots unnecessarily loud in the silence and Alec wondered if he was using magic to amplify the noise.  

“In other words, you didn’t need the rescue.”  

“Oh no, I definitely needed the rescue.”  Alec said without thinking, “they wouldn’t have done much damage but it would have been a hassle either way.”  He scrunched his nose up at the thought and when he looked at Magnus, the warlock was staring at him with an expression that Alec couldn’t read.

“Well then, no reason to change our plans.  Right this way,” Magnus said and offered his arm.  Alec blinked at it, wondering what he was supposed to do with it. The arm lowered and Magnus just smiled, something softer than before, “I know of a fantastic little shop.  They’re open at the oddest of hours during October so they won’t mind if we stop in, especially as tonight is Samhain.” 

Alec smiled and fell into step with Magnus, something settling into place as their shoulders nearly brushed and he couldn’t stop the shiver of his spine or the wistful twitch of his fingers.  He curled his hands into fists and let his nails bite deep into his palms, a distraction from how beautiful and intoxicating Magnus was.

-

Magnus knew he’d picked correctly with his choice when Alec’s face lit up, something gentled about his eyes and he nodded, falling in line with Magnus. 

“That sounds nice.”

“Oh it’s beyond nice.  This particular shop’s pastries are utter bliss, Alexander.”  He waited for a moment but Alec didn’t react poorly to the use of what was likely to be his full name.  “And you don’t mind that your rescuer is a warlock?” Magnus asked the looming question as he blew out a little gust of air, just to watch as Alec swallowed hard.

“If you don’t mind that you rescued a shadowhunter,” Alec said huskily. 

Magnus smirked to himself, reaching up to touch his ear cuff, “if anything, I rather enjoyed it.”  

Alec grinned, ducking his head a little and Magnus would have been content to let their walk settle into companionable silence until they reached their destination, when he realized something.

“Why did you need rescuing?”

“I didn’t have my glamour on.”  

“Yes, but you are a shadowhunter.”  Magnus raised a brow, he knew very well what shadowhunters were capable of and the idea that a single nephilim would be incapable of defending himself from four, mediocre mundanes was laughable.

Alec ducked his head and Magnus caught the curl of pink up his neck and cheekbones as he muttered something.

“What?”  Magnus asked, swaying closed and feeling something in his chest unravel as they brushed arms and Alec leaned closer to him rather than further away.

“I said,” and here Alec groaned almost with embarrassment, “I didn’t want to deal with the paperwork.  Damaging mundanes is a big deal, it honestly would have been less exhausting to just heal myself from whatever happened.  Besides, it’s not like I carry around a mundane wallet that I could have given them.”

“Unbelievable.”  Magnus muttered and shook his head, “you were going to let yourself be injured to avoid paperwork?”  

Alec glowered at him mulishly and Magnus tutted, reaching out and pausing to make sure Alec had time to move away, before tucking Alec’s arm into his own.  He tugged the shadowhunter along a little faster, shaking his head in disgust.  

“You are in dire need of some pampering."  He told Alec and was delighted when the shadowhunter just lengthened his stride, keeping up with Magnus easily.  “And a date is just the way to start."

“A date?”

“If you don’t mind.”  Magnus said, knowing that it was rather bold of him but with how shadowhunter culture was, sometimes it was better to push a little and hope for the best.  From Alec’s soft smile and the way he shifted but didn’t pull away, he’d guessed right.

“No, I don't mind at all.”  

[a-vintage-snake]

Once I Called You Brother

Pairing(s): None in this chapter

Warnings: Abusive parenting, both emotionally and physically, Remus typical stuff  Characters: Roman Sanders, Remus Sanders

Summary: When Remus disappears, Roman tries to reflect on their shared past.

Read on AO3

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People who were asked to be tagged: @avocados26, @fandoms-will-collide @nottoonormalme Author’s Note: *claps hands* SO. My Dukeceit one-shot gave me so many plot ideas that I wanted to continue it. And I intended the next installment to be a one chapter thing from Roman's point of view, before returning to Deceit and Remus. HOWEVER, after writing 10.000 fricking words for this chapter and not even REMOTELY close to being done, I thought that would be a bit too cray-cray and decided to split it up in not just two, but MULTIPLE separate parts. I write out of order (meaning I write the scene I'm feeling the most that day) so while most of the next three chapters is written, they're not done just yet. Hopefully the next chapter will be out sooner than this one though. Don't worry, we will return to slimy boi and trash rat eventually. Just have some Roman angst while you wait. Word Count: 6790 “Don’t wait up for me!” Remus yelled. “BYYYYEE!!” “REMUS!! Remus, wait!” Roman ran after his brother, but the minute Remus spurred the mare into a gallop there was no chance he could catch up. Baffled he halted and watched as his brother disappeared out of the castle’s gate.

Quickly Roman turned to the stable boy who had brought out Remus’ horse.

“You! Prepare a horse! I need to go after-”

“Your Highness!”

Roman whipped around to see his fencing teacher approaching him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” The man huffed. “You haven’t finished your lesson yet!”

“So sorry, mister Moore, but I have to cut this lesson short. My brother, he just-!”

“Absolutely out of the question!” Mister Moore waved away the horse the stable boy brought over. “I allowed you a break, but you have to continue practicing stat if you ever hope to improve your footwork!”

“But sir, my brother! He’s planning to go to the Desolate Mountains!”

“I don’t care if his Grace is planning to go to the underworld itself, you will not skip this lesson!”

“Are you kidding me??” Roman yelled. “I am not going to be stopped by you, you absolute-!” “What is going on here?”

Roman’s back immediately straightened and he shut his mouth, as his father made his way over to the stables. King Augusto was dressed in his hunting attire and was in the process of pulling his gloves on.

“Your Majesty,” Mister Moore bowed when Roman’s father reached them. “So sorry for the disturbance, but prince Roman is trying to get out of his lesson.”

“Out of the question.” King Augusto said as he turned towards his son. “Roman, how many times must I tell you? As the future king, you have responsibilities.”

“But father, it’s Remus!” Roman said.

“Oh heaven above help us…” His father sighed dejectedly. “What has Remus done this time?”

“He just left, yelling that he was going to kill the warlock in the mountains!” Roman gestured to the castle’s gate. “If we hurry, we can catch up to him-!”

“You are not your brother’s babysitter, Roman. Lord knows he scared all those off…” King Augusto muttered as he turned away. “Return to your lesson.”

“But father!” Roman followed after the man as the king ordered the stable boys around. “Didn’t you hear what I said? He wants to go to the Desolate Mountains! We have to go after him!”

His father stopped in his tracks, and Roman froze when he realized what just left his mouth. The king slowly turned to face him, and Roman’s heart started beating painfully fast when his father walked up to him until they were mere centimetres apart.

“I don’t have to do anything,” The king spoke in a soft, dangerous voice. “And you would do well to remember that, son.”

Roman clenched his fists to hide that his hands were shaking.

Show no weakness; show no flaws.

“Yes father…” Roman said, quietly.

A few seconds passed, where the king inspected his eldest son with a cold glare and Roman desperately tried to not break eye contact. But then the king’s gaze eased slightly and he sighed.

“My hunting party will go in the general direction of the mountains,” King Augusto said. “I’ll keep my eye out for him.”

Roman’s eyes widened in surprise, before his face split into a big grin.

“Thank you father!” He beamed.

“Yes, yes,” His father waved him away. “Now get back to your lesson; I expect improvement by the end of the week.”

“Of course!” Roman wanted to give a playful salute, but thought better of it. “I won’t let you down!” “You better not.” The king hauled himself up to his awaiting horse, and rode up to the castle’s gate where his hunting party was waiting for him. Without another glance to his son king Augusto spurred his horse on and rode out of the gate, the king’s men behind him. Roman watched them go, and hoped his father would catch up to Remus soon.

A cough behind him pulled Roman from his thoughts.

“Your Highness,” mister Moore said. “Let’s continue your lesson.”

--

After fencing Roman had etiquette class. When those were done, he was expected at the study hall, where one of his tutors taught him the history of his country, the monarchs that had come before him, the alliances between their country and its neighbouring kingdoms. The many names, dates and places eventually blurred all together, and Roman was relieved when evening came and the lesson finally ended. He wanted absolutely nothing more than retreat to his rooms, collapse on his bed and sleep until sunrise.

He knew he couldn’t. Of course he knew. But the idea was nice.

After a quick change of clothes Roman made his way to the dining room. Mentally he reviewed his lessons of the day, just in case his mother would interrogate him about what he learned.

The dining room was a lovely space, with warm wooden walls, a large fireplace that was currently unlit and tall windows that overlooked the gardens and the landscape beyond it. A long table that could easily fit 30 people stood proudly in the middle. When his parents entertained guests, the dining room was a cheerful place, filled with laughter and jokes, and Roman would love every minute he spent there.

When it was just the family however, the dining room was a somber place. No amount of warm candlelight could quite chase away the solemnness that oozed from the muted suppertime, and the silence made Roman acutely aware of every scrutinizing frown that his parents sent his way.

When Roman entered the dining room, his mother and father were already seated. As the lackey announced his presence, Roman gave a short bow to his parents. But his eyes immediately zoned in on the empty chair that sat across from his, and it’s usual occupant nowhere in sight.

“Good evening Roman,” His mother greeted him. “Have a seat. I trust your day has been well?” “Splendid mother,” Roman answered dutifully, just like every evening. He sat down at his usual spot next to his mother. “And how has your day been?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary, aside from a mild headache.” Queen Nadia smiled thinly.

“So sorry to hear that. I hope you feel well soon.” His daily talk with his mother done, Roman turned to his father who sat at the head of the table. “And how was the hunt, father?”

“Excellent!” His father looked quite pleased. “We caught two boar and a doe. Not bad, don’t you think?” This answered exactly none of the burning questions Roman had, but just when he opened his mouth to ask what about Remus the lackeys served up the dinner. Roman bit his tongue and swallowed his questions for now. His parents insisted total silence during actual suppertime.

Knifes scraped over plates, sometimes someone would cough, and the soft sound of chewing were the only things that filled the stillness of the room. Roman tried to focus on the creamy flavour of the quite excellent dish of chicken with mushrooms and potatoes, but no matter what he did his eyes were pulled to the other side of the table. His brother’s empty spot seemed to taunt him.

Silence wrapped around Roman’s throat like a noose. My goodness, dinnertime was always a miserable time, Roman knew that, but today the atmosphere pushed down on him like a crushing weight and Roman wanted nothing more than to break the tension. What was different?

Walking up to the dining room, Remus came from an opposing hallway and joined him. Roman threw a quick glance at his brother, intending to give a casual greeting, but what came out was-

“What the hell is that on your upper lip??”

Remus raised his eyebrows in surprise, but grinned. The soft mush of barely there moustache hair that a 14 year old could grow moved along with it.

“Jealous, bro-bro?” Remus stroked the hairs proudly.

“Pfff, hardly!” Roman laughed. “You look ridiculous!”

“You’re just mad because you can’t grow any facial hair yet! Baby face!” Remus stuck out his tongue.

“Rather a baby face than a dead animal on my upper lip! What did you, torture some poor hamster?”

“Oh, you want to know my secret?” Remus leaned in, a wild grin on his face. “It’s totally actually just glued on pubic hair!” He said in a loud stage whisper. Roman let out a shriek of laughter.

“Holy shit that’s disgusting!” Roman wheezed. Remus cackled along with him, and spread his arms in a proud stance.

“All hail the pubic ‘stache!” He hollered, and Roman had to stop walking and lean his hands on his thighs to laugh.

“You’re so weird!” Roman managed to say through peals of laughter. Remus grinned widely.

“Only the best kind!”

The brothers were still laughing among themselves when they reached the dining room. Their parents gave them disapproving glares, but Roman and Remus couldn’t stop grinning when they sat down. Throughout the quiet dinner the brothers both had to suppress their giggles and smiles whenever they made eye contact across the table.

Roman tried to focus on the dish he was eating. He brought his fork up to take a bite, but paused when he looked at the cooked spinach on his plate. A grin spread on his face when an idea came to him.

When Remus looked up at his brother, Roman was sporting a very dapper looking spinach moustache.

Remus, who had just taken a large swig of water to wash his last bite down, snorted loudly and spit out his water in a large spray across the table. Their mother and father let out double screams of surprise while Remus howled with laughter.

“REMUS!” His father rose from his chair. “You blithering idiot, look what you have done!”

A loud smack echoed across the room as king Augusto backhanded Remus so hard he fell off his chair on the ground. Roman’s light mood disappeared as he shrunk back into his chair; his hand quickly came up to wipe away the spinach from his lip.

“Can’t we have one dinner without you making a fool of yourself?!” His father roared at his son on the floor.

“No- Wait, father, I wasn’t-” Remus stammered. “It was Roman, he-”

“Of course, blame your brother.” His mother cut him off, coldly. “As if Roman would ever be as disruptive as you.”

“Learn to take responsibility for your actions, you moron.” His father said as he sat down again.

Remus shakily got up on his feet, holding his stinging cheek.

“Roman, tell them! Please…” Remus pleaded.

All eyes turned on him, and Roman froze under his parents expecting stare. Oh god, he would be a disappointment if he told the truth. He had been disruptive and childish, all the things his parents taught him not to be. They would be angry with him, furious maybe! He wasn’t supposed to make mistakes like this.

Avoiding his brother’s eyes, Roman merely shook his head.

“There, you see,” His mother looked back at Remus. “Now what do you have to say for yourself, little liar?”

Remus kept staring at his sibling, his mouth opening and closing in quiet disbelief. Then he turned away and ran out of the room.

“Honestly, that boy…” His father shook his head, not bothering to call his second son back. “Where did we go wrong?”

“It’s not our fault, dear,” His mother said. “Some people are just born a little… freaky, that’s all.”

His mother turned to Roman, and he stiffened as she gently caressed his cheek.

“Don’t worry, we’re not talking about you.” She said, her voice sweet. “You are such a good son, Roman.”

She pressed a soft kiss to his temple, before turning back to her dinner. Roman tried the same, but noticed he had lost his appetite.

The next evening when he ran into Remus on his way to the dining room, his brother refused to make eye contact and didn’t speak a word.

Roman’s heart gave a twinge at the sudden memory. He couldn’t take it anymore. He slammed his cutlery down with a bang and stood up. His parents jerked up.

“Roman?” His mother asked. “What do you think you’re-”

“Where’s Remus, father?” Roman asked before the courage left him. His father looked disdainfully at him.

“Sit down Roman. We have rules at dinnertime, you know that.”

“Where. Is. Remus?” Roman repeated. “You said that you would look for him!”

“And I did! Are you suggesting I wouldn’t look for my own son?”

“No, of course not! But then…” Roman looked at his brother’s empty seat. “Then where is he?”

King Augusto let out a sigh.

“I couldn’t find him. He was probably already too far ahead of us.”

Roman’s stomach dropped. His gaze flicked outside towards the mountains in the distance, looming in the fading light.

“We have to go look for him,” Roman said, as he scrambled away from the table. “Roman, get back here!” His parents rose from their chairs as well.

“He’s in danger!” He already had his hand on the doorknob when hands seized his shoulder and hand.

“Roman, sweetie,” Queen Nadia’s voice said in his ear. “Come sit and calm down before you do anything rash.”

“But mother he-!”

“Roman.” His mother’s tone took a warning edge. Roman swallowed, reluctantly released the doorknob and allowed his mother to gently guide him back into his chair. She sat down next to him and faced him, a soft smile on her face.

“Now,” She started. “Tell me exactly what your brother said.”

“I told you! He left yelling that he was going to kill the warlock in the mountains!” He rose once more. “If we hurry, we might be able to stop him!” His mother grabbed his hand before he could run again.

“So he never said specifically that he was going to the Desolate Mountains?” She asked.

“Well he…” Roman shut his mouth, thinking. Wait, had he…? Feverishly he replayed his brother’s exit from this morning in his head. Had he mentioned the Desolate Mountains at all?

“No…” Roman said hesitantly. “No, I don’t think so…”

“Well there you go,” His mother smiled kindly. “No need to worry, sweetie.”

“But then… where would he have gone?” Roman asked.

“Son, do you really think we only have one warlock in this whole country?” His father shook his head with a laugh. “I’m sure there’s plenty of them living in mountainous areas!”

“But how do we know for certain?” Roman’s eyes once again went to the window, to the threatening peaks in the distance.

“I don’t think even Remus would be stupid enough to actually go there.” King Augusto said. “Didn’t we make you both promise to never enter the mountains?”

I’m pretty sure you only made me promise, Roman wanted to say but he didn’t. After all how could he know for certain that they hadn’t made Remus promise as well? “And besides,” His mother added. “Remus is always yelling nonsense! Do you remember, a few years back, when he ran away to the sea to ‘fight the Kraken’, in his own words? He came back two weeks later with five sacks of dead fish and a live squid in a tank!”

Oh yeah, that had been an odd day… Remus had loved that tiny squid though; doting on it like it was a cute kitten or a puppy. He had been devastated when he found the squid dead in his tank a month later.

“Someone murdered him!” “Or he just couldn’t survive in a tank, no matter if it’s a salt water tank.” “No! I took good care of him, and Sir Squiddles was just fine this morning!” “Seriously? You named that thing ‘Sir Squiddles’?” “HE WAS NOT A THING! He was my friend!”

At the time, Roman had laughed at Remus calling a squid his friend and got kicked out of his brother’s room for it. Now thinking back on it, Roman cringed at his own insensitivity.

“But…” Roman tried one last time. “What if he did go…? Shouldn’t we look for him just to be sure?”

“Sweetie, don’t be daft,” Queen Nadia’s voice turned impatient. “You want to risk your own life because you jumped to a conclusion? Or the lives of our knights? What if we sent troops, and Remus turns up tomorrow unharmed? Do you want the blood of those men and women on your hands?”

“…No. No I don’t.” Roman finally sat back down. His parents gave him content smiles.

“I’m sure Remus is fine. He’s just off on another attention seeking ‘quest’, and he’ll be back before you know it.” His mother reassured him. Roman nodded.

“You’re right… You’re both right. Thank you.” He said.

“Very well.” His father sat back in his chair. “Now that’s settled, lets get back to this excellent meal before it gets cold.” Roman nodded and picked up his knife and fork again. Of course Remus would come back just fine! Like his father said, not even Remus would be so reckless to go to the Desolate Mountains!

…Right?

“Oh, and Roman?”

Roman looked up at his father. “Yes?” He asked.

“Don’t ever interrupt dinner time again.” King Augusto said coldly.

“…Yes father.”

--

“Hey! Planet earth to Roman!”

Fingers snapped near his ear. Roman startled, quickly turning his gaze away from the window and back to the other people in the room.

“So sorry, zoned out there for a second.” Roman smiled. “What were we talking about?”

“This is the fourth time you’ve zoned out and missed the punch-line to my story! What is up with you today?” Tristan huffed. “You’ve been more quiet than Farah! You’re not turning boring on us like her, are you?”

The others laughed, apart from Farah in the far corner. She buried her face further into the book she held open on her lap. Even from the windowsill Roman had seated himself he saw her cheeks turn a bright red. He gave a soft wince in sympathy.

“That’s not exactly gentlemanly of you to say of our fair Farah, Tristan!” Roman said.

“Oh, it’s all in good fun!” Tristan fell back on one of the soft sofas in the salon, lounging on it widespread with a lazy grin. “She really ought to grow thicker skin if she isn’t used to it by now!”

Roman wanted to snap at him that Farah didn’t seem to find it fun, but his father’s voice immediately echoed through his head.

“You need to maintain a network of friends, Roman,” King Augusto had said when Roman once asked why he needed to spent time with someone as insufferable as viscount Tristan. “Build yourself a reputation, learn to know your future allies. After all, what is the one thing we always tell you?”

“A royal’s reputation is the most important thing he has.” Roman had answered, the words falling from his lips automatically after years of it being drilled into him. So Roman only smiled thinly at the viscount before turning his head to look out of the window again.

The murmurs of the conversation started up again, and Roman listened without registering any of the words. After two more times of him missing some hilarious joke, the others seemed to grow tired of his inattentiveness.

“Tristan is right! You are boring today Roman!” Tristan’s best friend Brett complained. Roman shrugged.

“I guess today is an off day.” He said without looking towards the other man. He didn’t need to see to know that Brett was trying his best to pose to impressively show off his muscles for his crush Madison.

“It’s not just today,” Madison pouted, gracefully ignoring Brett in favour of braiding Emma’s hair. “You’ve been quiet every time we hung out in the past weeks.”

“Yeah!” Emma whined. “You’ve been so mopey and dull, Roman! What gives?”

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Roman instead smiled and brightly said, “Maybe I’ve been brainstorming for new adventures!”

“I sure hope so.” Madison finished the braid. “This mood you’ve been in just isn’t any fun!”

“Are…” Farah spoke up hesitantly. “Are you okay Roman…?”

Roman’s smile faltered slightly. Was he okay…? Why was she even asking? Of course he was okay! He just… Hadn’t been too keen on hanging out with his friends today, that’s all.

It wasn’t that he completely disliked the others company. Okay, Tristan was an asshole, and Brett couldn’t hold up an intelligent conversation even if he tried, but Farah was nice! If a bit quiet. And Emma and Madison could have been good company if they stopped gossiping for a few minutes. He had just hoped he could have had this day to himself. Roman’s schedule was busier than ever! The past weeks were filled with so many lessons of various kinds that at the end of the day he could barely keep his eyes open. After shoving food in his mouth, Roman would collapse on his bed and sleep like the dead. And on the rare few days he didn’t have lessons, his parents made sure he spent time with his friends, the children of the court’s nobility. Two months had passed in a haze.

And there was still no sign of Remus.

His stomach clenched as his thoughts went to his brother. Alright, if he would be completely honest with himself, Remus was partially at fault for his somber state of mind. He knew his parents told him not to worry, but as the days turned into weeks, and weeks had turned into two months… Roman couldn’t help himself. He was distracted at his lessons, grim during meetings and unusually quiet. His parents had asked him repeatedly if he was getting sick the last couple of dinners.

Worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, he considered telling the others. He knew he wasn’t meant to be gloomy, but they were his friends! Surely they would understand?

“I suppose…” Roman started, swivelling his head to look at the others. “I have been a bit worried lately…”

“Worried?” Emma asked. “How so?” “Well… It’s Remus. He’s been gone for weeks now-”

“Oh, so that’s the reason it’s been so peaceful around here?” Tristan laughed. “I already wondered why it smelled nicer around the castle lately!”

“Hey!” Roman said.

“What?” Tristan spread his hands in a ‘what gives’ gesture. “It’s true! How many times have we seen Remus covered in weird dirt and dragging heavens knows what around?”

“Too many times...” Brett said, shaking his head.

“Didn’t he once put a rotting decapitated pigs head in your bed, Tristan?” Emma shuddered.

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” Tristan made a grossed out face. “It took weeks before the smell got out. And I’m still not sure how he even got in!”

“He did that because you pranked him, right?” Madison asked.

“Yes! Seriously, your brother just can not take a joke!” Tristan said to Roman, who grimaced. Roman remembered that particular “prank” all right…

“Wanna hear something crazy?”

Roman looked up from his book, expecting his brother to grin at him with that “I just brought a live opossum into the parlour and I have called him Jeremy” grin, but instead his brother looked… Strangely nervous. Huh. That was very unlike him.

“Yes…?” He said, curious enough to ignore the warning bells.

“I think…” Remus said slowly.

“You? Thinking? Don’t hurt yourself, brother!” Roman laughed. Remus didn’t laugh, and made a short stuttering movement that to Roman seemed like a wince. Frowning, Roman wanted to backtrack but before he could say anything Remus continued talking.

“IthinkIhaveacrushonTristan!” Remus rushed out. Roman’s mouth fell open.

“You WHAT??” He yelled, abandoning his book in favour of jumping from his chair and joining his brother on the couch. “You have a crush on Tristan??”

“Yell a little louder, I don’t think the people in the dungeons quite heard it!” Remus hissed out while punching his brother’s arm.

“Sorry, sorry, just excited!” Roman squealed. “Oh gosh, are you going to tell him? When will you tell him? And how? Flowers are a classic, obviously, but if you want to be more original you could always slay a grand monster to prove your love-!”

“I wrote a poem.” Remus mumbled. Roman let out a gasp.

“Oh that is PERFECT! And such an unorthodox of a display for you brother! You must truly have it bad for our fair Tristan!”

“Oh, shut up!” Remus punched his arm again, but he was smiling. Roman couldn’t stop grinning as well. How long was it ago that they had this kind of brotherly banter? It felt like years! If Roman were to guess, the last time they truly spent time together like siblings was when they had been kids. And now their 18thbirthday was only a month away!  

Why did they ever stop hanging out…?

“Send him that poem! I’m sure he’ll love it!”

“You think so…?”

“I know so!” Roman gushed. “Tristan is super nice, he’ll be over the moon by it!”

“Wow, it’s almost as if writing a poem for your crush, only for said crush to not only read out said poem out loud and make fun of it in front of basically the whole court,” Roman bit out through a forced smile. “But also ridicule you for having a crush is not even remotely funny, Tristan!”

“It was a little funny!” Brett said.

“Yeah! Didn’t you see Remus’ face?” Tristan snorted. “Come now Roman, it was a harmless prank!”

“A harmless prank that caused my own brother to refuse to talk to me for nearly a year!” Roman very nearly shouted. He had sworn up and down to Remus he hadn’t known Tristan would do something so cruel, but he had the suspicion Remus never truly believed him. Especially since his parents didn’t allow him to cut off all contact with the viscount.

“You will not lose one of your most important future allies because Remus is too immature to handle a joke, Roman!” His mother had bristled. “And that’s final!”

Secretly Roman thought the pig’s head had been well deserved.

“Hey now, calm down.” Tristan held up his hand in a placating gesture, and Roman wanted nothing more than to challenge the insolent cur to a duel right then and there. “I meant nothing by it. Honestly Roman, what’s the matter with you today? You make fun of Remus all the time!”

Instantly the anger inside him deflated.

“Yeah, well-! I…” Roman stuttered out. He couldn’t exactly deny it. “Maybe-! Maybe… Maybe that was wrong of me!” He ignored the sceptical stares. “And besides, Remus has never been gone this long, and I don’t… I don’t… I’m worried, alright??” “I don’t think you need to,” Emma said. “Remus is like a weed; you can’t really kill him!”

“Exactly,” Madison finished the intricate braid in Emma’s hair. “Before you know it, he’ll ride through the castle’s gate and he’ll be back doing… Whatever the hell it is he does.”

“Seriously, what does he even do all day?” Brett snickered.

“He often goes to the library.” A quiet voice said. Immediately all eyes turned to Farah, who seemed to instantly regret saying anything.

“The library? Really?” Roman asked quizzically.

“Remus in a library?” Madison scoffed. “Don’t you think that’s stretching the truth a bit too far, Farah?”

“Does he even know how to read?” Emma simpered.

“It’s true!” Farah said. “I regularly see him when I go to the library!”

Roman swung his legs off the windowsill and sat to give Farah his full attention. “What does he do there?” He asked curiously. While he hated to agree with the others, they were right; He couldn’t exactly picture his chaotic brother to particularly enjoy the library.

“I don’t know…” Farah muttered. “We don’t really talk.” “Wow, what a shocking revelation!” Tristan snorted. “Farah doesn’t talk! Next you’ll tell me that water is wet!”

Another wave of laughter echoed through the room, and Farah looked like she wanted to disappear into her green coloured hijab. Roman glared at Tristan, the irritation rising up to new levels. He was about to snap at the viscount when the doors of the salon opened.

“Your Highness,” The lackey entering said while he made a bow. “Pardon the intrusion, but your parents request your presence in the throne room.”

Roman barely held back a sigh in pure relief, and practically ran out of the room without saying goodbye to the others. He did feel a pang of guilt for leaving Farah alone with those heathens, but he shook it off and made his way to the throne room.

Upon entering he saw his parents, looking regal and untouchable on their thrones, the picture perfect concerned monarchs. Before the throne knelt an older man, his clothes torn and tattered. Most likely he was a peasant from a nearby town. His parents smiled at him when they saw him.

“Ah, Roman! Just the hero we wished to see.” His father beckoned him closer. “Come here.” “Would you repeat your request for our son?” His mother smiled sweetly at the kneeling man.

“A-Ah! Yes, yes of course, your Majesties!” The man shuffled on his knees, so he faced Roman who had walked up to his side.

“Please good sir!” Roman gently grabbed the man by his elbows and helped him stand. “No need to kneel for me! That cold floor can hardly be good for your knees!”

The old man looked surprised, but smiled either way. Roman smiled back, choosing to ignore the disapproving peers he knew his parents were giving him.

“Your Highness,” The man started. “I come to you in dire need. My village is under raid by a manticore-chimera! The monster has killed several of our villagers, destroyed a good portion of our crops and damaged our homes! We’re not sure how long we can keep the demon at bay! But the whole kingdom has heard of your bravery fighting such horrors, and we beg for your help!”

The more he listened, the more Roman felt his heart clench. That fiend was harming his future subjects! His people! Outrage and determination swelled up in his chest.

“Do not worry, my good man!” Roman bellowed. “I shall come with you and vanquish the mighty beast!”

--

He vanquished the mighty beast.

A day’s journey away from the castle had taken Roman, and the knights that accompanied him on every quest, to the village the monster terrorized… The small town sat right by the edge of the Desolate Mountains.

Ignoring the cruel irony, Roman had focused on slaying the manticore-chimera. It had taken all his willpower and several close calls, but he did it. He was victorious, and the monster would do no more harm.

And in the end, every fight Roman suffered through would always be worth it. It was worth it to return to the village after the battle and see the relieved, happy faces of the townspeople. To see their tears of relief, hear their joyous laughter and know that those who had been grieving would get a little respite now that their loved ones were avenged.

It was worth it knowing his people were safe.

And if the people celebrated, and Roman and his entourage were pulled along with it, well who was he to deny an adoring audience?

That’s how Roman found himself surrounded by all the town’s children, who were breathlessly listening to Roman regaling how he had taken down the manticore-chimera. His knights mingled with the adults of the village, who smiled both fondly and wondrously at their prince entertaining their kids.

“And so, while my brave knights distracted the monster, I snuck up to it from behind, narrowly avoiding its scorpion tale!” Roman mimicked drawing a sword. “I waited with bated breath until I saw an opening… And then… POW!!” The children all startled, many of them gasping. “I pierced my sword right through his heart! And the manticore-chimera… Was no more.”

The children ooohed and aaahed when Roman struck a heroic pose, the gold details of his most princely outfit sparkling in the sunlight and his red cape fluttering in the slight breeze.

“When I am older, I wanna be a knight too!” One of the children gaped.

“Oh, and what a fearsome warrior you shall be!” Roman scooped the girl in question up and settled her upon his shoulders. “Known far and wide! Every monster shall quack in their boots upon hearing your name!” The child shrieked with laughter as Roman took off in a gentle sprint, the other kids nearly tripping over their own feet to follow him.

“You are much nicer than the other prince!” The girl giggled above him. Roman laughed, a little confused.

“Other prince? What other prince?” He asked.

“The weird one with the funny moustache!”

He froze. Skidding to a halt Roman was distantly aware that the kids surrounded him once more, pulling at his cape and sash and begging for a turn.

It couldn’t… There was no way!

The girl wiggled on his shoulders. “Keep running, keep running!” She yelled. Roman shook himself from his frozen stupor.

“Ah, I’m afraid this mighty steed has done enough running for today!” The children all chorused their disappointment, and the girl pouted as he lifted her off his shoulders back onto the ground. “How about you play with the knights instead? They have saved your home just as much as I have!”

“But we wanna play with you!” A boy whined. All the other kids nodded in agreement.

“Ah, but maybe, if you ask nicely… My knights can show you how to hold a sword like a true warrior!”

That seemed to instantly cheer the children up. Roman watched with a smile as the group ran off towards the knights. Dread pooled in his stomach however when he thought about what the girl had said.

B-But there probably had been a mistake! There were loads of people with moustaches, and perhaps it had just been a rich merchant travelling his way around the mountains, the only safe (albeit long) path to the kingdom on the other side. Any child would see a fancy gentleman and think him a prince! Roman huffed a laugh, and pretended not to notice how strangled the sound was. That was a totally reasonable explanation! No need to panic over nothing! He would even ask to be sure, so he could laugh at his own foolish behaviour!

He looked around for the village head, a lovely older woman who had introduced herself as Alina before he went to kill the manticore-chimera. He spotted her chatting animatedly with her wife on the edge of the town square. Quickly he approached her.

“Pardon me, my lady?”

“Prince Roman!” Alina grinned at him brightly. “We are forever in your debt for slaying the beast. We simply cannot thank you enough!”

“It was the mere duty of a prince and future king, ma’am!” Roman said. “But I need to ask you something.”

“Anything, your Highness.”

“About two months ago, did a traveller pass through your town? My age, with a moustache, most likely wearing green?”

“Oh, did prince Remus ever return home safely?”

Roman felt like he had been punched in the stomach.

“You… You have seen my brother?” He asked weakly.

“It was a little hard to miss him!” Alina’s wife Nesta said. “He rode in one late afternoon, and stopped only to allow his horse to drink something and to buy some more supplies in our tavern. He yelled that he would kill-” The woman paused when she saw Roman’s face drain of all colour. “Your Highness?”

“What did he yell?” Roman’s voice sounded numb. “Please, what did he say?”

“He yelled that he would kill the warlock in the Desolate Mountains for us, your Highness.” Nesta continued solemnly, all mirth from just mere moments ago gone. “We tried to stop him. We warned him of the danger, but he didn’t listen. He… He rode away before we could talk sense into him. But… Surely your Highness knew this? Our king and queen would not send their son on a mission like that without a plan!”

Silence stretched out for a few seconds as the women smiled hopefully at Roman. Their smiles died away at Roman’s ashen expression.

“You didn’t know…” Alina gasped. “Please, you have to believe us, if we had known prince Remus was there without your parents blessing, we would have sent word to the castle immediately! We wouldn’t have- Prince Roman?”

Roman couldn’t breathe. The sound of the village head and her wife asking him worriedly if he was feeling unwell reached him muffled and faraway, like his ears were stuffed with wax. A coldness like ice spread from his core to his limbs, making his skin tingle. He had the idea that his legs would give out on him any second. The shadows of the Desolate Mountains loomed over him, cold and menacing.

He had actually… Remus truly was that reckless… He had really gone to…

Oh god his brother had gone to the Desolate Mountains!

“Haha! !It seems like we overstayed our welcome long enough!!” Roman yelled so suddenly the women jumped back in shock. He felt himself slip back into his princely demeanour without truly trying. “Thank you for your hospitality, you are such wondrously kind people!!”

“Prince Roman, maybe you should sit down first?”

“Sit down?? Of course not, I feel fit as a fiddle!!” Roman chuckled, edging on hysterics. “Yes, we should definitely be going now!! I should inform the general!! A grand day to you, ladies!!” With that, Roman stormed away, ignoring the protests of Alina and Nesta. He had to find the general, he had to round up the knights, and they had to go look for his brother!

“GENERAL ISOLDA!!” He called out over the town square. The woman in question looked up, a bit shocked to see her prince in such a frenzied state. The knights that were talking to her stood to attention as well.

“Your Highness?” She asked when Roman reached her. “What is the matter?” “Gather all the knights! We’re going!” Roman commanded.

“Already?” The general frowned in confusion. “But we have barely rested for the journey home!” “We’re not going to the castle! We’re going to the Desolate Mountains!”

“What- Are you mad?” The general gaped at him, thinking he must be joking. Roman however could not be more determined.

“My brother is there, general! He has been there for the past two months, and we must find him immediately! We can buy supplies here in the town, and-”

“No.”

Roman stopped dead in his tracks.

“No? What do you mean, no?”

“It means that I am not sending my knights on a suicide mission, my prince!” The general seethed. Roman stared at her, before nodding.

“You’re right… That would be unfair to ask of them. I shall go alone then! Inform my parents of my absence!” Roman turned around to search for his horse, but was stopped in his path by one of his knights. Without Roman realizing more knights had joined the little group, and they formed a circle around him. Trapping him.

“I will do no such thing,” General Isolda said behind him. “Because you will be returning with us.”

“Let me go at once!” Roman turned to glare at the general, who merely looked unimpressed.

“You will return to the castle with us, prince Roman,” She said. “And that is an order.”

“You can not order me!” Roman fumed. “I outrank you!”

“And your parents outrank you, your Highness. I- All of us- Have strict orders to always bring you back home. No detours, no crazy quests. And we will follow those orders no matter what.” Roman bristled, ready to shout and yell. He looked around at knights circling him, closing his escape path off. Many of them had their swords partially drawn, their faces resolute.

“Please prince Roman,” The general said patiently. “Do not force me to tie you to your horse.”

He could not fight them all off, Roman knew that. And the whole journey home they would watch him like a hawk. Admitting defeat, Roman’s shoulders sacked.

“Fine,” He bit out. “But we’ll be leaving immediately. If we hurry we can make it back by evening.” He had to let his parents know as soon as possible, so he could go looking.

As Roman and his entourage left the town, it felt as if the mountains mockingly waved him goodbye.

[outlaw-unicorn]

The dragon!Arthur AU you didn’t know you needed

(and maybe didn’t want either but @eaglepatronus and I had too much fun with this :D)

here be dragons (and charthur)

AcademySenseiIruka

Now I can't stop thinking about a dragon Arthur AU where Charles is the knight sent to slay the dragon. As he searches for the mighty beast, Charles meets and falls in love with a cowboy (Arthur) who it turns out, is the dragon he's hunting. XD

Charles: Is that a tail? Arthur: No. Charles: Sure looks like one. Arthur: No, It's a trick of the light. Charles: ... Arthur: (knocks over a table with his wagging tail) :)

[...]

AcademySenseiIruka 

Ohhhhhh, hers my version.

Arthur's mom was a dragon who tried to live life as a normal human. See, all the dragons in Brittian were hunted to near extinction and she fled to America in search of safety. Eventually she had Arthur, and when Arthur was young an irate drunk tried to kill him and, sensing her child was in danger, she took her true form to defend him. Later, when she was human again, she tried to explain things to her husband. To tell him she really loved him but he wouldn't have it. He shot and killed her.

Arthur then spent years chained to a wall in a deep cellar. That is until two outlaws, Hosea and Dutch found him. They raised him as their own but Arthur was always careful to keep his mothers secret. But one day, when the law was coming down on them, Arthur had no choice but to turn into a dragon and escape. When he landed, Arthur expected to be yelled at. To be disowned or attacked... and though Hosea was frightened, Dutch was excited. He praised Arthur for his abilities and began coming up with ways to use Arthur to rob banks. Eventually the Van Der Linde gang became known for picking up monsters as John Marston, a young Werewolf joined them as well as others cursed with magic.

After years of traveling and robbing banks, Arthur had amassed quite a bounty. And though no one outside the gang knew Arthur's true identity, Dutch had begun to treat Arthur more and more like an animal. Eventually new members of the gang were allowed to use Arthur the same way Dutch had. One day Micah ordered Arthur to attack Strawberry and in the attack Arthur felt something break inside him. He really was a monster. Some bloodthirsty beast that deserved to be hunted and killed. Arthur despised everything about himself... But Charles, a new member of the gang was a psychic. He could hear Arthur's fears and hate and self-loathing. Charles could feel Arthur's heart breaking, his grief for a life of peace he had never known.

Charles then sets out to prove Arthur is wrong about himself. To teach the dragon just how precious and kind he really is. Charles brings to Arthur's attention every good thought he thinks, every kind act he performs. But also he swiftly warns him away of the untrue dark self-deprecating thoughts.

In the process of saving Arthur from himself, Charles begins to fall head over heels for him. It doesn't take long for Charles to discover a steady growing feeling of love, growing in Arthur, is directed towards him.

But as the two fall more and more in love, Dutch and Micah have set their sights on attacking a heavily guarded bank. If they pull it off, they could be set for life, but if they fail, Arthur would be captured... Now it's up to Charles to convince Arthur he is worth more than what Dutch has convinced him he is. That he isn't some monster to be summoned and used, that he is precious and worthy of being protected.

rivendellelve 

Really loving Psychic Charles ♥ :D does that mean, in that universe Trelawny is an actual magician? :D

AcademySenseiIruka 

Gosh, didn't think of that but yes. lol

And Micah is probably able to manipulate thoughts... So in the end, it's down to a battle between Charles and Micah. Micah trying to controle thoughts and Charles being able to break others free because he can feel the true thoughts of a person.

rivendellelve 

Dang, now I'm imagining the big showdown between Charles and Micah.

Maybe Micah has taken over Arthur's mind bc he wants to use him for his plans (and swooping in an a dragon definitely fits his ego) and Charles has to rescue Arthur and then he and Micah are fighting for control :D that would be epic :D

AcademySenseiIruka 

YEAH!!! Charles hasn't noticed Micah even has that abuilitiy untill he tried to sway Arthur into doing the plan by making him bloodthirsty. Arthur can't tell what are his thoughts and what are Micah's but Charles can and tries to stop Micah. During the mental battle, Micah tells Arthur he has taken over Dutch. It enrages Arthur (just as Micah wanted) enough to transform. With Arthur angry, Micah is able to take control but Charles is able to get through to Arthur by reminding him he is kind. that he isn't a monster and that he is loved. Eventually, it breaks Arthur from Micah's intrusive thoughts and Charles is able to protect him.

Together they Kill Micah and when he dies, Dutch is able to break free of Micah's hold as well. Apparently, Dutch been trapped in his own head but still aware of what's going on. Just not able to stop Micah. He apologizes to Arthur for how he has treated him and Arthur forgives him, knowing it wasn't really Dutch all along. The camp goes back to the way it was and they all live happily ever after. It ends with Arthur and Charles cuddling together, both blissfully content... And Arthur realizes he is finally at peace.

(hope it's not too heavy-handed but I think it's a satisfying conclusion)

rivendellelve 

This is the best thing ever! !! Like, I can totally see Micah taunting Arthur and Arthur falling for it even though he knows better and oh the drama Charles desperately trying to get through to Arthur while he's huge (and incredibly dangerous ) dragon ❤❤❤

And the idea that Dutch is conscious but unable to break free! ! (Have been playing around with a demonic possession story in my head for a bit that was kinda like that bit your Micah-version is way better ) Probably really gets him thinking about how he acted before that people didn't notice he was being controlled He probably changes for better after that

Now I imagine the gang actually settling down somewhere peaceful Like everyone gets on Arthurs back and they fly somewhere far away from Pinkertons in the dead of night Maybe they start a farm. Mangoes may or may not be involved 😁

AcademySenseiIruka

GASP... MICAH IS A DEMON!!! It would explain is mind manipulation and also give him other abilities, so no one would suspect him with controlling people. Maybe Micah is pretending to be a warlock or something? Like he can make things explode. But he hides his mind manipulation abilities because the more unaware you are the more effective it is.

Also, Flying off on "taxi" Arthur is the new best ending. They fly off to Tahiti and that's is where Arthur and Charles cuddle etc. If you want to write this it's all yours. I would love to see this as a full story but can't... plus you are the better writer. But no pressure. It's just fun to brainstorm.

rivendellelve

Oh boy, I would love to write it (even more so I really want to read it) but there is no way I have the time and energy for such a long story 😅 But sharing ideas is so much fun

Speaking of not-so-Warlock Micah, I'm thinking one of the other gangmembers is an actual warlock (maybe one of the girls) and they're something's off about Micah but mindcontrolled Dutch is like noooo, the poor man has just been through a lot

Also I remember reading something about a dragon whose treasure are his friends instead of gold and I can't stop thinking bout how the gang means everything to Arthur So when people go on a trip he's always lowkey clingy Like you'll be back soon, right? And lots of stay safe's

When Dutch and Hosea found out he was a dragon they got him some gold and were very confused when he more or less ignored it

Hosea got a bit teary eyed once he realized what was going on

AcademySenseiIruka

Awwww, I love that! Arthur is so precious as a person hoarder! And he probably doesn't even realize it and Hosea never brings it up to him cause he doesn't want Arthur to be embarrassed. (cause at this point its instinct and he can't really stop it)

Gasp, it would also explain why Arthur is sooooo angry with John when he leaves! It's not just that john left the gang it's that one of his treasures left. lol

Hosea would have the ability to see the future but because of Micah, his visions have been confusing lately. He keeps seeing Micah as a murderous dragon but Hosea says nothing cause he doesn't want Arthur to think he thinks Arthur is a monster. (also in the game Hosea says a lot of prophetic stuff, so it would fit)

Grimshaw would straight up be a witch. lol

(also, cause I didn't mention it before, Micah controls Arthur during the Strawberry attack. Arthur just doesn't figure it out until the battle with Micah at the end. Its why he got all bloodthirsty and why he enjoyed killing. Micah's influence taking over is why he felt broken.)

rivendellelve

yes to all of this!! i love Hosea being clairvoyant1! It fits sooooo well with canon. and just imagine - Dutch usually would accept Hosea's advice without question but suddenly Hosea's abilities don't work properly anymore and he can't fulfil his role as an adisor the same way as before. So Hosea thinks that's why Dutch isn't listening to him anymore

and he has no idea Micah is responsible for both.

and of course Micah controlled Arthur during the attack. Micah probably figured a high-stress situation such as this would be a perfect opportunity to test how far he could push Arthur with the level of control he already had over him

Grimshaw being a witch is awesome :D I'm pretty sure whenever someone was getting sick, she'd send Arthur to gather some herbs that she sneakily added to Pearson's stew. and what would've been a fulllblown pneumonia just ended up being a minor cold :)

also, can Uncle be a a satyr / pan? that way he could claim lumbago and goatlegs as reasons why he can't work :D

AcademySenseiIruka

Yes to everything! OMG, It's amazing how well this AU is fitting the canon. lol

I think Marry should be half muse. But she doesn't want to be someone's inspiration, she wants to be an author.

Molly should be some high elf princess runaway. Cuse it fits her personality.

Going back to what you said about one of the girls being a warlock... well I read a story a long time ago about this warlock who's magic was stronger the drunker he got. So Karen? Like usually she's just a normal human but when she gets drunk things start to levitate.

I keep wondering what Dutch would be. He needs to be something impressive because his overconfidence would be why he never suspected Micah when he should have. But nothing is really coming to mind.

Can Duffy be a Centar? lol

Maybe Sean would be a tall leprechaun? or is that too much? lol Nymph maybe?

rivendellelve

:D :D :D drunk Karen OMG I can totally imagine her being completely hammered and the most random things start happening. (and actually she's even more powerful sober but trauma and lack of confidence has her convinced she needs to be drunk to be able to use her powers)

and I love Mary-Beth deciding to be her own muse and not somebody elses :D

I think Sean tells everyone he's a leprechaun bc that's what people assume and what random a-holes on the street yell after him. but actually he's a Selkie :D

and Kieran is definitely a centaur. that's why he's so good with horses :D

Maybe Abigail is a Medium? and can talk to spirits? she's been making a living like that but bc there are so many fakes she has to resort to cheap tricks like levitating candles to make people believe her. (she tried a show with Karen once and it worked like a charm. Until drunk Karen started to sing ring dang doo :D)

but Dutch is difficult indeed. I am almost tempted to give him either no abilities - fitting the theme of him raging against society even though being born upperclass / upper middleclass. only this time he's like society'll never accept us "monsters" even though he's the only one that isn't

or make him a vampire. bc his ego would definitely fit - vampires being quite canny in the art of mindmanipulation themselves. He'd be so sure no one could ever control him that he only realizes once it's too late. he probably has Pearson or maybe Strauss make him some special ointment so he can stay out in the sun

AcademySenseiIruka 

I love both your ideas for Dutch for different reasons. Love him being a normal human (or norm) I don't know why. I think it's cause it somehow fits his personality to be some average person but how he carries himself is what gives him power and authority. It also makes him being in charge more of an illusion. That said, I also love the Vampire idea. Perhaps one that feeds on animals, not people? I just think high honor Dutch wouldn't feed like that. But once Micah gets involved maybe he would. That could be one of the warning signs for Arthur and Hosea.

I think Lenny should be an apprentice of some kind. Cause he's young he doesn't know quite what he want's to be yet so he's kinda a jack of all trades.

Speaking of Jack, with his dad being a werewolf and mom being a medium, would Jack be both or would he have the abuility to talk with animals? Like comunicate with animal spirits etc?

rivendellelve

OOOOh Micah is the one who starts convincing Dutch to feed on O'Driscolls and Skinners and Lemoyne raiders bc they're "basically doing the world a favor" and it goes downhill from there

maybe Lenny was training to become a magician when his dad was killed and he never completed his training but Trelawney decides to teach him a thing or two

and Jack can definitely talk to animals :D it might not be clear enough for real sentences but he gets pretty good impressions and can like, ask a bunny for the nearest clover field and he'll know the direction and have a pretty good idea of how far away it'll be :D

AcademySenseiIruka

XD Yes, Jack would be their best scout. lol Also, Dutch would just have him talk to bunnies and deer to find the safest places to camp.

So this got out of hand :D but it was too much fun not to share. Maybe definitely we’re hoping someone goes and writes dragon!Arthur fic :D

(and if you do it would be awesome if you dropped the AO3 link or tagged us)

link to complete thread https://archiveofourown.org/comments/277788937