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kiwikipedia · 1 year

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Threads of Daydreams

The Old Man of the Mountain thinks about many things. There is no name that he will put to this relationship, but he knows that it is good. The warmth and companionship of another is not a sin, after all.

First Hassan x Li Shuwen, 4K words, oneshot

AO3

The Li Shuwen here is the same person all the way through, just going through a class change after the lostbelts. He's currently an assassin, but before then and for most of the time that Hassan and Li knew one another he was a Lancer.

I bounce back and forth between calling Li just “Li” and his full name of “Li Shuwen” because I like how it rolls off the tongue. Did you guys know that “Shuwen” is technically his given name? Li is the family name. In retrospect, that makes sense, but I just can't call him “Shuwen” alone. I just can’t do it !! It feels weird lol

Anyways, I think that both Li and Hassan need more attention. I might write more for them later.

God. there are so many notes at the end feel free to ignore them though

There was a certain beauty to Chaldea and the opportunities that it had brought.

Servants and entities from across myth, history, and legend all had been brought to one location. Idolized heroes were met, successors, predecessors, and those not yet realized conversed between rivals, enemies, and allies. While rare, families met again, and past and future selves clashed in a battle of ideals.

Servants ate, laughed, and talked together, heroes from the west raised glasses with those from the east, and those from hard-written historical fact walked with legends from mythological wonder. Even beings that walked that fine line between truth and fiction existed, walking in a world beyond the pages of novels and stories.

No matter the person, no matter the past, they existed together bound and loyal to one Master. Over time, they lived and laughed, and left their past behind them while they moved forwards with their own legends engraved into their hearts.

So it was only natural, in such a situation, that some Servants, and even staff, fell into relationships. Be it by way of romantic, platonic, or familial love.

When it came down to romantic love, there were many ways that Servants showed their affection.

Some were public and open about their relationship with the rest of Chaldea— the goddess Quetzalcoatl, for example, certainly showered the Gorgon with affection. And no matter how much the Avenger seemed to hate it, only a blind and deaf fool wouldn’t know that she wasn’t similarly in love with the other goddess. And Gilgamesh and Enkidu fell into such a state the same way that water flowed along its natural path, with Gilgamesh always more than willing to shower his so-called most precious person with riches and adoration.

There were others, of course, the Caster Irisviel and the Assassin Emiya had created a whole mishmash of a family together with Illyasviel von Einzbern, and—although they had skirted around the edges for a bit— Saito Hajime and Hijikata Toshizou could be seen touching one another more often than not— the Berserker wrapping an arm around the Saber’s shoulders, or Saito linking their pinkies together as they talked to different people… if Hijikata wasn’t outright grabbing the Saber by the jaw and smashing their lips together in a full public display.

And of course, Medb was in a whole other category of public display of affection.

Some were more closed off than others, preferring their relationship be less prominent, and more between each other than public.

James Moriarty was a very… loud and open individual when he wasn’t scheming, though Charles Babbage was not loud and did not scheme— they were a strange balance for sure— and what went on between Geronimo and Robin Hood was no one’s business but their own. Both of the Princes of Walachia were more reserved people by nature, though Romulus and Vlad were a bit more public than Dracul and Georgios were— by way of a certain Roman Emperor and Dragon-like countess showering their relatives in affection and declaring their spats as sisterly banter.

And he, himself, preferred to keep his affairs private.

As the heavy footfalls of The “Old Man of The Mountain” echoed in the halls of the Wandering Sea, he counted himself lucky enough that the one he chose to spend his time with was more than understanding.

Granted, it wasn’t as if the Assassin under the name of Li Shuwen was an overly affectionate person in the public eye— not like many of the younger Servants tended to be with their romance and adoration. And the nature of their relationship was a bit more ambiguous than others.

But it was still the other Assassin who the “Old Man” found himself seeking out and returning to after missions.

The familiar scent of incense cut through the metallic tang of blood as the “Old Man” entered Li Shuwen’s room. It washed over him like the tide, floral and calming, the tension that he didn’t even realize he was still holding onto melting away.

The “Old Man” kept his presence concealment up for a moment longer, eyes drifting over the space that the other Servant called home.

While it wasn’t as barren as the room that had been given to him, Li Shuwen’s quarters were much less decorated than others. Nonetheless, there was still that comfortable and feeling of “home” without being too overindulgent.

A few knickknacks and novelties that had been picked up somewhere, a painting from one of the many artists— the Foreigner Katsushika Hokusai, possibly— on one wall with another hanging scroll likely plucked from a singularity on another.

A closet and dresser combination that held a few changes of clothes sat against the far wall (though it wasn’t as if they were much different than any of the attire the man wore into battle) and of course, there was the bed and night side table that every room had— but one of the most prominent fixtures of the room was the low table that had been added in.

Li sat there, turning through the pages of a book and tea on the table. Content. Calm. As if the image before him had been ripped from one of those little storybooks full of pictures that the children insisted on reading to him.

But the flip of a page was enough to pull him from such thoughts.

The “Old Man” allowed his presence concealment to fall as the door closed behind him.

Li Shuwen did not look up at him immediately, taking the time to set down his cup before he did.

“Ah, welcome back, Hassan.”

And like the tide going out, the “Old Man” felt the weariness that ate at his bones melt away, the titles, the ranks, the preconceived notions among others— all of it faded.

Gone was the “Old Man of the Mountain”, gone was the status as the “Grand Assassin” and the Founder of the Hashashin. Instead, Hassan-i-Sabbah stood.

He remained silent for a moment longer, before he took a step forwards.

“Yes. I have returned,” he murmured and like a melody, Li Shuwen laughed. It was a soft noise, more like a chuckle, but a warmth of familiarity welled up in Hassan’s chest nonetheless.

“All is well, I presume?” the other asked, propping his chin up on his palm. Hassan nodded before Li pointed towards the adjoining bathroom. “Wash up before you join me, hm?”

Hassan only gave another short nod in response. Quick and to the point as always, though he understood why.

For as much as the two of them would bathe in blood on the battlefield, he understood that Li Shuwen was not the type of man who preferred that the acrid stench of blood did not last long.

He was grateful, though.

Not every room in the new “Chaldea” within Atlas’ Wandering Sea had an attached bathroom. Some sets of rooms had a shared one between them, and others simply used the bigger common ones if they had neither a shared common one nor a private one connected.

Hassan was a private being, however. And while not out of malice, some Servants were… a tad too curious for his tastes.

It made sense, he was no fool. The shroud of mystery would always lure one in.

And he and Hassan of the Cursed Arm’s decisions to never show their faces had more than one child Servant to try and get a look—and several of those who were much too old to be acting in such a manner.

He was grateful that Li Shuwen allowed him the privacy of the adjacent bathroom to cleanse his body of the blood and gore that had seeped through his armor and robes.

The clothing he donned could be cleaned with a simple dematerialization, and in that same way, so could the body...

And yet there were habits that he could not shake from ages past. And the smell would linger in his mind.

The details could be debated another time, as the First of the Hashashin’s armor melted away and bare feet touched the tile floors.

It wasn’t long before he returned to the bedroom, steam lazily curling and drifting from the bathroom as he left the door open.

Gone was the heavy armor, the layers of metal and cloth that kept him and his form hidden away. Gone was the skull mask of the Hashashin. In their place were linens and woven fabrics, carefully chosen and crafted by the other Hassan as a gift.

Despite the time it had taken for him to wash away the stench of blood and battle, it appeared that Li Shuwen had not moved from his spot.

The scent of a new tea brewing said otherwise.

( Such a marvel modern devices were. A portable stove made it so that neither of them would be forced to leave the room. )

Still, Hassan stayed where he was for a moment longer, simply watching the much smaller Servant as he read.

Hassan-i-Sabbah was old, that was something that was an indisputable fact. He had seen many people, and just as many faces in his time. While he cared not for such trivial things such as physical beauty and appearance, he was well aware of what the modern beauty standard would be— had humanity not been incarcerated twice.

He knew that neither of them in this room would be considered at that standard, and yet…

“Come sit,” Li’s voice cutting through his musings made him tilt his head slightly. The tone was even, holding neither a demand nor an order— leaving as much room as wanted for Hassan’s own choice. Across, beside, or not at all.

If he wanted to, Hassan knew he could ignore the other Assassin entirely and retire to the bed early. But he neither wished nor wanted to at the moment.

Instead, he moved silently to Li, settling behind him.

The other just hummed at that, allowing Hassan one of his few indulgences he had granted himself as he pulled the smaller man into his lap. The familiar weight upon doing so made a soft sigh escape him, veil barely fluttering as he did.

Li chuckled nonetheless, settling down as he nursed his cup of tea. A second cup was set down to the side, empty, but Hassan’s if he so desired.

Eventually, perhaps. But not now.

Instead, he allowed himself respite and rest, lowering his head to rest against the other Assassin’s own.

Li let Hassan do as he pleased, Hassan shifting and wrapping his arms around him. Though the veil, he rested his cheek against his head, letting out another sigh.

‘Snuggling’ the other Assassin, perhaps, would be the most adequate term of phrase. If one could call it that, with Hassan all but enveloping Li against his own body.

It had taken them both less time and longer than expected to reach this point in their relationship. What their relationship was, however, Hassan did not put a name to it. Nor did Li Shuwen.

But the man never minded, in fact, he encouraged him in branching out in indulgences.

It had bothered Hassan, at the start— when he had first met the man when he donned the skin and class of his younger, Lancer self.

Li Shuwen’s heretical nature had been a divide between them, as had it been a dividing factor between Hassan and most other Servants— aside from, again, rank, status, and appearance driving those weak of heart off.

But Li Shuwen was nothing but relentless in his pursuits, whether it be for his own satisfaction of satiating the hunger for a fight or a simple conversation.

Hassan-i-Sabbah was a reverent man. It was his faith that guided him through his life, and his faith that tethered him to the world itself. He would uphold his promises to be both the first and the last of his legacy.

Li Shuwen was not a man of faith, nor a man of any religion. Both before the events of the Lostbelts when he was swift to resort to violence as a way to settle things, and after, when he had crossed fists with his own self and gained that form in the aftermath.

He was not a man of faith, yet he had never trampled on another’s. Instead, Li Shuwen asked questions and read to find out more information. He always did his best to understand, if only to make sure that a fight was in good form and didn’t violate any such religious rules.

The man was nothing if not consistent in both forms be it the one he took now, or the redheaded lancer who was always spoiling for a fight.

In the conversations before, there had been questions of faith, and prodding towards actions that he normally would have never taken…

But then again, that was the beauty of Chaldea. A place of opportunity— and reckless Servants who don’t take stop or no for an answer when fired up.

With another huff, Hassan buried his face in Li Shwuen’s hair. Shorter strands poked through the fabric of his veil, and a soft hum accompanied by the turning of a page left the other as he did.

In Li’s own words, it was hard to think that the revered and feared Old Man of the Mountain was this clingy. The first time he had said that, so early into their odd relationship, Hassan had avoided him for a long while.

Clingy? It was an odd notion for sure. He was not a man of worldly things, and at his position… Skinship was little more than a passing thought.

And yet…

He had returned to Li Shuwen who had apologized and asked if he had overstepped— with blood on his teeth, spear splinted, and shirt torn to shreds, with nothing but sincerity in his words.

Hassan had decided then that he had not— because how long had it been since he had last allowed someone to touch him, since he had last touched someone without the barriers of armors and linens wrapping around his skin? Granted, the word 'clingy' was a bit off-putting. But Hassan let it be.

But to bask in the warmth of another— it eased his soul and warmed his being much more than the scorching sun of the desert ever could.

Hassan let out a soft hum, leaning into the hand that had reached up and under the veil to touch his cheek— a hand-worn and aged with time, with muscle and strength to crush a skull, yet gentle and soft.

Li Shuwen did not press his boundaries, he did not lift the veil and gaze up at him, did not badger to see his face, despite their relationship. Not in that same way Moriarty badgered Charles Babbage to step from his mechanical shell. Instead, Li allowed for Hassan to show what he wished, when he wished.

Another soft exhale left Hassan, and he allowed his eyes to flutter closed as he pressed further into the touch against his cheek.

Soft. Warm.

How long had it been? How long would it remain like this? How long would be after Chaldea finished its duty and the Servants returned to the Throne that he could be like this?

Would he wonder between life and death once again? Or would his oblivion finally come?

He didn’t know, and i t was out of his hands.

“If you are wary, you should rest,” came the murmured words from the man in his lap, thumb brushing against his skin.

Hassan let out a soft snort at that, turning his head to press a kiss to the palm.

“Am I not resting now?” he inquired and once more, Li laughed.

He was a man who laughed when amused and who wore his expressions plainly for those to see.

When Hassan first encountered Li Shuwen in the sands of Camelot, he had been that way. He had been like a blade with his words and expression, teeth bared and rough nature bare and open to see.

A man who laughed often in the face of adversary, without care as his flesh was cut into by the whistling strikes of Failnaught. He had triumphed then, before the Hassan had taken the fight into their own hands.

And when he had seen the man again in Babylonia, as he watched and observed Chaldea’s Master, he had been the same. When he and Chaldea fought Tiamat and her spawn, he had been the same. And when remains of Goetia sprang up, he was the same.

And after the Lostbelts, when he agreed to lay down his spear for the time being, changing from Lancer to Assassin— Li Shuwen remained a man who openly expressed his thoughts and allowed his emotions to be seen.

Perhaps that was what had curbed Hassan’s initial annoyance. Li Shuwen was not hiding his intent when he approached for a fight. There was no hesitance, no fear.

 Certainly, there were others in Chaldea with similar temperaments, but Li Shuwen was different. A curious puzzle.

Hassan would not lie in stating the man’s persistence in the past— and even now as a man who was supposedly more mellowed than his previous self— had steadily won him out.

If it was a fight wanted, it would be a fight he was given.

A spear would not match his sword, but still, that did not deter Li Shuwen. Most always the fights ended in Hassan’s victory, but the few draws and standstills had been hard won.

Very few could claim to break the armor he donned, let alone with their bare hands.

Sometimes, Li Shuwen could walk away on his own two feet, battered and bruised and bleeding, but calling out that he’d manage next time. He would yell down the hall that he would win with such a light in his eyes that it made Hassan wonder if the man’s own strength was his ‘faith’ to an extent. Other times, bones had been shattered, skull caved in, and the man had more blood outside his body than in. Sometimes unconscious, sometimes not. Always, Hassan was careful when aiding and moving him.

(Sometimes to the Medical wing, other times they both knew that Nightingale and the others would have them skinned for not pulling their punches. Grand Servant or not, Hassan knew not to press his own luck with a medical professional.)

And in these fights, Hassan learned more about the man who was “his” now. And in Li’s own way, that was how he learned about him.

Because when it came down to it, fighting was how the man connected with others. He read the way people moved, the intent behind the strikes, what made others tick when his words reached them — would they become more reckless or keep their cool when taunts were thrown?

That was Li Shuwen.

And that had been how he had somehow crashed his way into Hassan’s life.

A curious man who was so different from others.

A man who was selfish without it being a sin and so genuine and open about it— it was baffling. Without hesitation, he would state that his sole goal was to test himself and fight stronger opponents, even in the form of an Assassin he was like this, though tempered and restrained. Certainly, h e fought alongside and with Chaldea, but he had told Hassan himself while cleaning his wounds after a particularly nasty battle in Salem that, should the time come when he was to grow bored, he would leave.

He was a self-serving man, and yet...

Hassan slouched lower, dropping his head to the crook of Li’s neck and inhaling slowly. The smell of incense and earth clung to him, subtle and mellow.

“Dost thou wish to lay with me?” he murmured against his skin, relishing in the warmth of the other— and despite the ages of restraint and tempered flame, Hassan found that craved it more and more. Something that, perhaps, stemmed from when Li Shuwen had been a Lancer. He had been a very touchy and physical person in that form, easily one to drape across Hassan's back to read over his shoulder or lean against him without a care.

It had created a gnawing need that Hassan hadn't known he had.

(Was this what it meant to be touch-starved? How long had it been, truly?)

 Li’s hand had slipped up from his cheek to his head, fingers threading through Hassan’s hair hidden under the hood of his shroud. Li Shuwen is not a tender man, he never had been, but his movements were meaningful and gentle nonetheless— a touch reserved for those he favored.

“Depends on what you’re asking.”

There was a slight teasing lilt to the other Assassin’s words. Light, with a second meaning laced between them— if Hassan so wished for it. Always an open option, but never pressing. Not when it came to matters of faith.

And for that, Hassan briefly wondered if it would be worth it.

But it was hard to put a name to their relationship. Romance was such a flowery term, and the nature of Servants was oh-so difficult to place. If Oblivion did not claim his body, Hassan would continue on long after Li Shuwen returned to nothing but a name among the Throne.

Marriage was not on the table. Or not a conventional one, the time of a Servant was as fleeting as frost in the morning rays. And it had been eons since such matters had ever entered his mind— ah, his wife and daughters, how long had it been had since they had returned to the earth?

But truly, he valued Li Shuwen and the relationship they had now. Was it love? Perhaps.

Lips brushing against the veil, against his cheek, pulled him from the thoughts he had since lost himself in.

“I jest,” Li hums against his skin, book closed and tea abandoned. His free hand had found one of Hassan’s own, prying it from his waist and squeezing it. “I would not refuse to lay with you.”

No more words needed to be said— moving the other and himself is as easy as swinging his blade. Li Shuwen was small, tiny, in comparison to Hassan’s own hulking size.

With a soft huff of air, they settled again, the smaller Assassin nestled against him, tucked under his chin and against his chest.

It was warm, and it felt like the weight of responsibility had lifted from his weary bones.

Servants had no need to sleep, nor drink, but for Hassan… it was respite, it was habit, it was natural. And he would not be a liar to say that he was tired. He was the Grand Assassin, yes, but he was also a man, no matter how altered he had become.

He shifted as the other moved to get comfortable before reaching for the bedside table to click off the light.

It wasn’t as if Li had not seen his face before, wasn’t as if he did not know his face, his scars, the way that his eyes had sunk into his skull with age and time. Li Shuwen knew his face, but it was Hassan’s choice to remain hidden.

Li had respected that.

And in the cover of darkness, his hands reached up to the veil, slow and steady. Hassan could stop him, if he wished to. But he didn’t, allowing for the cloth to be removed and set aside in the darkness of the room.

The veil was set to the side, and fingers mapped his face.

“Ah, there you are,” Li mused, leaning up and a light kiss was pressed against his chin as Hassan leaned down, “You have been hidden so long, I had forgotten.”

A lie, one they both knew well as thumbs brushed the corners of Hassan’s lips.

“Are you tired?” the younger of the two asked, and Hassan only grunted, pulling him closer and burying his face against his neck.

He always was.

Always would be, until the bitter yet welcome end.

Hands moved up, slipping under the hood of his shroud, fingers brushing and tangling in his hair. Slowly, slowly…

“Thou knows the answer already,” he breathed finally, and Li chuckled again, tilting his head and pressing a soft kiss to his temple.

“Then sleep, O Grand Assassin,” he said, and again, that teasing lilt was back, but there was nothing but warmth in his words. “Sleep and I will remain here when you wake.”

And Hassan knew he would be. Selfish yet kind and always keeping his promises, that was the kind of person Li Shuwen was.

He was grateful for it, he found, to be understood in such a way.

Li Shuwen was not a genius, the man would freely admit that himself if asked, and his understanding of people was much different than others— and yet he knew and understood Hassan.

It was good. This strange life and relation of his— it was good. That was what their relationship was.

He did not put a name to what it was, but it was good.

That was what was important.

So Hassan let out a breath and curled around the other more, allowing himself to drift into the oblivion of sleep.

That little bit about Li not breaking promises is a nudge towards the Koha Ace manga where he just straight up resists a command spell from Caren. Li Shuwen what the fuck is that self-control.

Anyways. It was probably during Shinjuku that Li and Hassan started talking, and then sometime during Agatha or Shimousa to get friendly. Or rather, Li kept asking for a fight because you can’t tell me that this man saw Hassan throw down with the Lahmu in Babylonia and wasn’t instantly interested. I’d assume most Servants were idle during the EOR since it was a weird situation so Li and Hassan had a bit to talk and become whatever this fucking thing is lol.

Overall I’d say that Hassan has a preference for Elder Li's temperament but doesn’t mind the Lancer when he isn’t causing trouble. Lancer is more touchy and self-confident, whereas Assassin is reserved and calm (ish). Neither are like crazy affectionate in public, but Lancer Li is more the type to lean and drape across Hassan when bored or pull on his arm to get his attention and Assassin Li is like. Holding hands under the table and sitting next to/standing closer to Hassan. Hassan doesn't like major PDA beyond this, but otherwise, it's fine behind closed doors as long as it's not sexual.

I think writing Hassan with the aspect of his faith in mind is a bit difficult. His character is very unique and even though fate doesn’t really touch on it much he’s a man of Faith, and I want to make sure that I write and represent someone that correctly. I did research about the Islamic faith beforehand but I’m not quite sure in certain cases still.

Like sex outside of marriage is forbidden in Islam, it is a bit difficult to really work with the idea of Hassan being a sexual being. But on the other hand, Servants are also an entirely different playing field— since the Grand Order and Chaldea will not always exist, I suspect that it would be hard to really be married.

I guess that’s where most of that hesitance to name their relationship comes from. I don't know about dating, but from what I know in the Islamic tradition, Muslim men are not to marry non-muslim women, and vice versa, with men allowed leeway with women of the book (Jews, Christians, and Serbians mostly) but again— no idea where this would fall for same-sex relationships or even in terms of Servanthood.

Even if I figured that out, though, Hassan probably has a very low libido. Li Shuwen gets off on getting the shit beat out of him so it's fine /j

Also. Don’t worry about the Vlads being separate characters when Li and Li aren’t. The Vlads are two very different beings in my mind whereas Li and Li are the same man in different time periods. Vlad is the Berserker, and Dracul is Extra Vlad.

#Penguin Writes: Fate #i do not like tumblr formatting but i dont like how the links look either actually so #King Hassan #Penguinkiwi writes #Li Shuwen #Hassan-I-Sabbah #HassaLi #FGO Li shuwen #FGO Hassan #Fate #Fate Go #Fate Grand Order #Fgo #fate/grand order #fate fanfic #i will suffer and die lol #i need to change my tag names i no longer wish to be called penguin actually lol

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