primasveraas-writing

[primasveraas-writing]

a night full of you

Murtagh has long been a weapon, a killer. With Nasuada, this all falls away.

Word count: 1027

Warnings: sexual content

_____

“I want this,” she reminded him, and who was Murtagh to deny her this or any wish?

Already, they had stripped their outer garments. Murtagh stood in only his breeches; Nasuada in a delicate chamise. His tunic and her dressing gown had been cast to the floor, long forgotten.

She kissed him again and the fire burned hotter inside his belly. Careful hands placed themselves on her hips;  her fingers tangled in his hair. She guided him, stepping back until they reached his bed. Nasuada lay with him, and once they were settled, he began to press kisses along her slender neck. 

But she parted from him a moment later. Looking him in the eye, she pulled the chamise over her head, leaving her body entirely bare before him. She did not drop her gaze, and Murtagh held her sight for a long second before allowing himself to look.

She was beautiful. Delicate, sloping curves of flesh, deep brown skin, angled and perfect; a magnificent sight entrusted to him alone. Still, her chin was raised as she watched him examine her, ever proud and unashamed.

“You are,” he said lowly, “the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

In response, she reached forward and tugged at his breeches. He obeyed, shifting to discard them. Unlike Nasuada, Murtagh found himself unable to face her as boldly as she did him. He was hard, his body flushed with anticipation, and he hardly trusted himself to move or speak again. His eyes were downcast; he couldn’t bear to meet her eyes.

She drew him closer, though, and laid down again. More kisses and exploring touches, skin against skin, lust and need and passion driving each motion. It was overwhelming. It was blissful. It wasn’t enough.

He looked at her, need mounting higher and higher, and she nodded. Murtagh could easily recognize the hunger in her eyes; it burned through his every nerve. Together, they moved, readying themselves.

Then, he trembled, bracing himself above her on his elbows. The space of a few inches was the only barrier between them now. Murtagh sucked in a breath, eyes flickering from a spot on the headboard, then to Nasuada’s eyes and back again.

But Nasuada was wordless as she reached between them, grasping him with a steady hand. The touch was white-hot against his skin, and he suppressed a moan. She guided him to her body and began enveloping him in a velvety heat.

This was better than before, but still not enough. It was a need to continue, to press deeper into her, but Murtagh remembered himself. Slower was better, for her pleasure and comfort alike. He dipped in and out again, shallow, delicate thrusts that went only a fraction of an inch further each time.

Nasuada made an impatient noise. “Please,” she said, trying to pivot her hips against him. Murtagh stilled.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered, and Nasuada answered him with a small smile before kissing him deeply, rolling her hips against his. He sank further into her and his mouth fell open.

“Ah,” he said. “Nasuada.” 

The name was as sacred as a prayer. He touched her again, fingers ghosting over her hips, her breasts. Each motion was painstakingly careful.

Those were words he’d never thought would describe himself- tender, soft, gentle- yet he resolves that was all he’d be with Nasuada. Reverent came to mind. He’d worship her, their bond, their trust, their connection. How many times had they professed their affection and trust to one another? How many times had they shown it? The instances were too many to count, but this shed their last vulnerabilities. This was an ultimate devotion to one another, after all they had endured at their own hands and from crueler outside forces.

They continued until he was fully sheathed inside her. He shook still, overwhelmed by the sensation, by the desire that sang through every part of him.

And then, together, they began to move.

Their bodies came together, flesh rolling against flesh, only sweat between them. It was jarringly different than bodies colliding on the battlefield; yes, it was primal and raw, sweaty, hungry, consuming- but this was not fear or hatred- these movements were all passion and love. 

Hands, which were callused and worn and drenched with blood, rubbed against her tender skin, coarse fingers circling her core, making her gasp with delight. Nerves and shame fell away; Murtagh lost himself in the scent of her, of them, of their pleasure and joining, in repetitive motions and endless kisses; to the feeling of lips on his neck and collarbone, skin against his skin, fingers pressing into his back and tugging on his hair. Nasuada cupped his face, her eyes meeting his. She smiled, a soft gentle thing. Murtagh echoed the expression, kissing the soft skin of her wrist just below her palm.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and turned them so that his back was now pressed against the mattress, sighing as she settled atop him. When he thrust up against her, she bit her lip and tilted her head back. He gripped her thigh, going deeper, and she cried out, again a noise of pure pleasure and joy. A sound, a circumstance, so different from long ago in the Hall of Soothsayer brought forth because of and for him.

His vision blurred, hot tears stinging his eyes. He gasped with the next ministration and the tears spilled over. Nasuada slowed, but Murtagh forced his eyes open, plastering a smile on his face once more. She softened upon meeting his gaze, understanding and compassion flowing between them.

“This is good,” she whispered, leaning down to kiss him. “Murtagh.”

“Thank you,” he managed, and meant it. Thank you for forgiving me. For trusting me. For allowing this connection, this intimacy. 

She shook her head. “I want this. The same way you do.”

And that was all that mattered. When they came apart later, holding each other and shuddering through it, all he could think of was her. Nasuada- he was drowning in her, in all this gentle conjoining, and he could not want for anything else.

#happy holidays yall i am still around and kicking!!! #got sidetracked by a vaguely cursed fandom but uhhhhhh I'm here still #murtagh #murtagh x nasuada #murtagh fanfic #murtagh morzansson #inheritance cycle #inheritance cycle fanfic #murtagh x nasuada fanfic #nasuada #murtagh x nasuada smut

[primasveraas-writing]

HEYO ITS BEEN AWHILE. IM STILL POSTING ON AO3 THO

also i have a stupid bit going on with my rebels sideblog!!! Pls give a follow, you can even unfollow in 11 short days idc

it's been 1987 fucking days since ezra bridger was last seen

#not fic #other sideblog shenanigans

[primasveraas-writing]

Finnpoe Quarantine Series: Day One

Day Two

“Well, that’s that.” Poe mutters, turning off the comm. “Antilles brought a kriffing virus back to base. Thirty people have tested positive already.”

“Thirty?!” Finn’s eyes are wide. “He just got back,” he says, and Poe only shakes his head in response. “What happens now?”

“We’re self-isolating,” Poe answers, sounding bitterly amused. “Everyone is to stay in their quarters until further notice.”

“We’re trapped?” Finn says, and Poe only chuckles, clapping his friend on the shoulder.

“We’ll see. They’re trying to contain this thing but it’ll take time.” Poe sighs, sinking down onto his bed. “It’s just you, me, and BB-8 now, buddy.”

The other man stares at him, taking in the modest size of their shared quarters. It’s not ideal, and certainly not what he had planned for.

Yet, he’s with Poe. 

Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

I’m doing a Quarantine AU to cope and pass the time! I’ll spend about 5 minutes on each drabble, and hopefully write one for each day that I have left in isolation. If you have ideas for what should happen next, send me an ask or swing by anytime to talk!

#remember this? #i really did That huh #rb

[primasveraas-writing]

i love your evandrin/zerxus fic so much. they're one of my favorite ships

ahhh thank you. i'm very much obsessed with them and the goal is to have "only you" finished in the next 3 weeks. the semester is over and i can finally write again! stay tuned!

#thank you for your kind words they really do inspire me to keep going #anon #answered

[primasveraas-writing]

ahhh tysm this is so very sweet ❤️❤️❤️

16, 23, 41!

16. What’s an AU you would love to read (or have read and loved)?

I would love some Middleman AUs. That would, obviously, require other people to have seen The Middleman and think about it as much as me, but as someone who has written (unposted) one TMM AU and conceived of a second... look, more people should watch TMM and delight in its AU possibilities, okay?

23. What’s a trope, AU, or concept you’ve never written, but would like to?

I mean.... the Middleman AU of Fantasy High is what I alluded to in the previous answer (Riz is Wendy, Gorgug is Noser, either Fig or Kristen is Lacey, someone get with me on this...)

41. Link a fic that made you think, “Wow, I want to write like that.”

This Zerxus/Evandrin (EXU Calamity) fic by @primasveraas-writing knocked me out.

ETA: ALSO golden as i open my eyes (bev/erlin) by @grasslandgirl. love that fic.

#rb #not fic

[primasveraas-writing]

"only you" - Zerxus and Evandrin

the protectors of avalir at the beginning of their life together or two men meet and fall in love all in the same instant

WORD COUNT: 8078

XXX

Evandrin looks tired.

It isn’t the first thing Zerxus notices about him- no, that was how striking he is, how beautifully his hair frames his face, the bowed shape of his lips, the sharpness of his cheekbones, the freckles dusting across his cheeks. Zerxus has never seen anyone with elven lineage who has freckles, but Evandrin does, and Zerxus is captivated.

Nydas had dragged him to this ball with promises of meeting the Ring of Gold and other dignitaries, but most importantly, to meet Evandrin. He’d endured months of Laerryn and Nydas’ chatter about the other man, about how pretty he is and how kind and funny and perfect for Zerxus he is. It’s been a set-up since the beginning, and, Zerxus suspects, the entertainment for the night. He spares a glance over his shoulder and sees Laerryn and Patia still watching them from across the gilded room.

They’re making small talk, but Zerxus feels floaty, distant. He’s faintly aware of Nydas watching him, smirking into his glass, but even the smugness of his friend can’t quite dampen Zerxus’ spirit. His heart flutters in his chest, dancing against his ribcage.

Zerxus has been studying Evandrin’s face, and he doesn’t miss the dark circles under his eyes. Evandrin has a prestigious job guarding the city, one that calls for long hours and complete physical and mental dedication. Still, his exhaustion is very pronounced, and a pang of concern sparks through Zerxus- even though they just met, even though he hardly knows Evandrin.

Then Evandrin yawns, and a faint blush creeps on his cheeks when he catches Zerxus watching him.   

“Sorry,” Evandrin says, and stars above, Zerxus is really far gone, and he knows it when the gentle lilt of Evandrin’s voice stirs something deep in Zerxus’ stomach. “I have a newborn. He’s been keeping me up all night.”

Ah. He’s a dad. 

Zerxus can’t help himself: he glances down at Evandrin’s left hand, checking for a ring.

The color on Evandrin’s cheeks deepens, and a slight warmth tinges Zerxus’ face too.

“It’s just me,” Evandrin says, and Zerxus could swear that his voice raises a pitch higher. “I’m a single dad.” He clears his throat a little. “I am single.”

“My god,” Nydas mutters. He takes a long sip of his whiskey and fixes them both with a bemused look. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Despite Evandrin’s flushed cheeks, his eyes sparkle as they watch Nydas disappear into the crowd of partygoers. He raises his glass to his lips- Zerxus thinks he may have already memorized their exact shape- and drinks his champagne before turning back to Zerxus.

“Tell me about your son,” Zerxus says, and Evandrin’s smile lights up his whole face.

Evandrin’s son is just a few months old. His name is Elias and he’s not anywhere close to sleeping through the night. His hair is a softer red than Evandrin’s but their eyes and noses are the exact same.

“He laughs all the time,” Evandrin says, “any excuse to smile.” His eyes crinkle at the thought, before the half-elf sobers. “But whenever I set him down, he cries. You would think the world was ending.”

“I can’t blame him,” Zerxus says, “to have that reaction when you leave.”

Evandrin smiles at that, ear to ear, and all the more beautiful for it. “You flatter me, Zerxus.”

Zerxus grins back at him. “I speak only the truth, Evandrin. You seem like a wonderful father. Elias is lucky to have you.”

“I try,” Evandrin says. Then, after a brief pause: “Are there any children in your life?”

“Cerrit’s daughter,” Zerxus answers. “I’m currently vying for the spot of ‘favorite uncle.’”

“Just vying?”

Zerxus shrugs. “It’s hard to compete with people who can conjure light out of their hands.”

“You rank pretty high in my book.”

They’ve been talking for less than twenty minutes. 

Something red-hot squirms deep in Zerxus’ stomach, and he moves half a step closer to Evandrin. They’re inches apart now, and Zerxus wants to close the rest of the distance between them, to taste the other man’s lips, to-

“Come with me.” Evandrin pulls away, but he grabs Zerxus’ hand.

Zerxus follows. He doesn’t look back, his gaze fixed on Evandrin as he’s led outside, and so he misses the gleeful watch of the Ring of Brass as they depart.

Evandrin takes him up two flights of stairs, leading him by hand the whole time. His hair sways with every step he takes; Zerxus watches it, mesmerized until they arrive at the rooftop garden. Zerxus has never been up here before, but Evandrin seems to know the way well enough.

“Wow,” Zerxus breathes.

The venue is, of course, in one of the fancier neighbors of Avalir, positioned high above the rest of the city, while the terrace itself overlooks the smaller buildings, allowing them to see out to where the edge of the city gives way to darker clouds and the expanse of sky surrounding them. There are a few small benches, but the space is mostly taken up by flowers, tall twisting trees, and blossoms of purple, blue, and red. Gentle violins are just audible too, the sound echoing from three floors below.

“I’ve never actually been up here,” Evandrin says. “Laerryn was giving me directions.” He taps the side of his head; it takes Zerxus a moment to understand that he means telepathically.

Zerxus glances around, then his gaze settles on Evandrin. “It’s stunning,” he says, not looking away.

"Yes.” Evandrin floats to the edge of the roof, leaning against the vine-covered railing. “Avalir is quite beautiful.” He looks back over to Zerxus. “Are you in love yet?”

Zerxus’ mouth goes dry; Evandrin startles at his expression, then laughs softly. “With the city, Zerxus.”

“Oh.” Zerxus is still staring at Evandrin. “Yes, I think I am.”

“Me too,” Evandrin beams at him, then turns to look over the sparkling city. “I had nearly forgotten how much I loved it here.”

“It’s home.”

“Yes. And now it’s my son’s home, too.” 

Zerxus hums, tracing the veins on the vines wrapped around the balcony railing. Evandrin takes a breath, then:

“Where are you from?”

“Caithmoria.”

“But you left.”

“There was no reason to stay. I…” Zerxus shifts, focusing on the edge of the city. “I love what I do, and I do it well. But I had little purpose in that city.”

“So you came to Avalir-“

“-in pursuit of something greater. Yes.”

“I’m not teasing you, Zerxus.” Evandrin steps closer to him, smiling in earnest. “I believe you. I desire similar things. That’s why I returned to Avalir.”

Zerxus sighs, looking back at Evandrin. “This age is on the precipice of incredible things. We have seen that already. I want to be a part of it. This city, its people- are a marvel. There is no place else I would rather be.”

“I think I rather like having you here, too.”

“I will certainly take that into consideration.”

Zerxus is quiet, resting his hands on the balcony. Evandrin notices and brushes his fingers against the back of Zerxus’ hand. Their pinkies interlock before Zerxus’ takes his hand.

“You’re cold,” Zerxus says, and he finally notices the way Evandrin is huddled into himself. “If I had a cloak, I would give it to you.”

“Come closer then, and warm me.”

He laughs, surprised, and Evandrin echoes the sound. His face lights up, and for that brief, wonderful moment, Evandrin doesn’t look tired at all.

But Zerxus obliges, hovering closer to Evandrin. He folds both of Evandrin’s hands into his own, and raises them to his lips, kissing the back of his left hand. Then, he brings Evandrin into his embrace, and they stand like that, closer than Zerxus can bear.

Evandrin looks up at him; the corners of his mouth are turned up and there’s a slight flush to his cheeks and his eyes shine like the stars above.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he says, and Zerxus just nods, dumbstruck. Evandrin moves in closer, pressing their bodies close together, and then cups Zerxus’ cheek. His hands are soft, and so are his lips.

He tastes like sweet wine. Zerxus is so gone.

“I don’t usually…” Evandrin is still so close; Zerxus can feel his hot breath on his skin. Long eyelashes flutter against pale cheeks. “I didn’t expect this, tonight.”

“Me neither,” Zerxus confesses. “I’ve never.” He bites his tongue, then meets Evandrin’s gaze. “I’ve never felt anything like this”

I’m in love with you.

Evandrin hovers close, his lips brushing over Zerxus’.

“You, Zerxus Ilerez, are as wonderful as they say.”

Another kiss, this one deeper. Evandrin sighs against him, then pulls away.

“You exceed all expectations, Evandrin Alterra.” Zerxus reaches up, tucking a strand of red hair behind pointed ears. 

“They’re going to be so smug about this.” A soft chuckle, a sigh.

Zerxus cups Evandrin’s face in his hands, stroking his cheeks with his thumbs. “I can tolerate it. If it’s for you.”

Evandrin smiles at him, his eyes sparkling. “Likewise.”

He leans in and kisses Zerxus again, standing on his toes and leaning against the taller man. Zerxus moves his arms, wrapping them around Evandrin’s body. The scent of flowers is sweet in the air. Tonight, the clouds hang low, about level with Avalir. The stars are clear above them, and Zerxus is wrapped tightly in the embrace of someone he just met.

Someone-

Evandrin leans in and kisses him again, long and sweet. The stars are shining above them, and they hold each other and kiss until the pink of dawn approaches. 

It’s nearly daybreak when Zerxus staggers home, alone, but his lips raw and chest tight with emotion. His weariness is physical, rooted in the heaviness of his eyes and limbs, but his mind is sharp and alert.

He thinks of Evandrin, of the feeling of their lips together. Of their bodies so close, of the sharp angle of his nose, of the softness of his hair.

He thinks of Evandrin. Only of Evandrin. He’s the last thought before Zerxus drifts off to sleep, and the first thing on his mind when he wakes the next day.

“Good morning, Nydas.”

“Zerxus.” Nydas squints at him over his cup of coffee. “You left without saying goodbye.”

Zerxus blushes. “I think I left after you, actually.”

“Oh. See, I thought, unlike Loquacious and Laerryn, you would perhaps find someplace more private to-”

“Nydas.” Then, when his protest gets no response: “It wasn’t like that, I assure you.”

“So you absconded with another man for what? Six hours? And you merely continued to stare into each other’s eyes for the duration of the evening?”

Zerxus stands up a little taller. “Mostly.”

Nydas rolls his eyes and takes a long sip of his coffee.

“So not only are you the only person in the city who is not hungover, you are also smug about it and smitten with a man you’ve just met.”

“I don’t think Evandrin had much to drink last night, either.”

“Know that the two of you are already insufferable.”

“My being insufferable to you is hardly news, Nydas,” Zerxus teases, and reaches for a cup to pour his own coffee.

“I have to admit, you were more taken with each other than anyone expected.”

“I…” Zerxus pauses with his cup halfway to his lips. “I never-“ He swallows. “Nydas, I’d never believed having a connection take hold so quickly.”

Nydas eyes him carefully. “You mean love at first sight.”

Zerxus can feel the heat on his cheeks. “Yes. I do.” He clears his throat after a heavy pause. “I don’t know if I can say that, even- last night was wonderful, but-“

“-you met last night. I see. Well,” Nydas sighs, but the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. “Perhaps don’t tell him that you’re madly in love right away, but-“

“I’m not madly in love, Nydas-“

“-but this would very much seem like something worth pursuing. You’re glowing, my friend, just thinking about it.” Zerxus touches a hand to his warmed cheeks, and Nydas chuckles. “Now, when do you see him next?”

Zerxus raises his eyebrow, but Nydas inclines his head, waiting.

“Tomorrow,” Zerxus concedes, and Nydas laughs again.

“Maybe don’t tell him then, either. Make all your passionate declarations without the mention of love.”

He manages as much. There are evening strolls through gardens and quick lunches between shifts, and brief dalliances on slower days, when they can sneak away to see each other. They talk- about Avalir, about Cathmoria, about their childhoods, their dreams growing up. About Elias. About what they want to achieve within the city and beyond, about magic, about swordwork, about the weather, and everything in between. Sometimes, no words are spoken- because they are otherwise occupied, or because sitting in each other’s presence is simply enough.

Zerxus met Evandrin and knew his heart; there was no other way to fall in love so quickly. It is only a few weeks of these meetings before Zerxus knows Evandrin the rest of the way, to be able to pull a smile from him with only a few words, to sympathize with the latest updates about Elias teething. It is fast, and incredible, and Zerxus is no less in love than the night he first met Evandrin.

Zerxus is suddenly caught between two worlds; a life on Avalir that revolves around his job and the city, and another that centers on Evandrin. As they spend more time together, the barriers between them seem more nebulous: Zerxus finds himself wishing for Evandrin’s opinion on certain cases, wanting to share the events of each day with him. It’s difficult, when they see each other so little, but Zerxus takes every second he can get with the other man.

It’s enough to tide Zerxus over, but he’s still unsatisfied.

But their time together is always brief; both men are busy with their guard duties, and Evandrin cannot spare more time away from Elias than he already takes.

“Zerxus,” he says, and it is during another stolen moment, just the two of them tucked away on a quiet, tree-lined street. “I cannot-“

There’s heartbreak already on his face, and as soon as Zerxus sees it, he feels it too.

“I very much enjoy seeing you like this. I- I look forward to seeing you every time we part, but-“ Evandrin heaves a sigh. “My son comes first. Whatever… relationships I may have, he’s the most important one.”

“Okay.” Zerxus raises an eyebrow. "So you’re a package deal.”

Evandrin stills for a moment, but Zerxus doesn’t miss the blush that slowly creeps across his cheeks. “So…?”

“So I’m all in. With Elias. Or if,” Zerxus swallows hard, “if you just need to focus on him, I understand that too.”

The other man stares at him a moment longer, then presses forward suddenly, kissing Zerxus. The kiss is rough and deep, and the force of their bodies colliding makes Zerxus stumble back.

 “This is fast,” Evandrin gasps when they untangle from each other. “I understand-“

“I-“ I love you. “I want this,” Zerxus insists. “I want-“ he swallows. “-to be with you. And all the things that come with you. Your son is not a deterrent. I want to be with you. I want to be a part of your life.”

“Then I am very lucky indeed.” Evandrin blinks at him, and his voice is suddenly thick. “This is not something I would like to lose.”

“No,” Zerxus says, and steps closer to Evandrin again. He cups the back of Evandrin’s head, pressing their foreheads together. “Nor I.”

This time, Evandrin kisses him long and slow, leaning into him. The rest of the world melts away in that moment- there is only Zerxus and Evandrin, with so little space between them, with Evandrin’s hands on his waist, with his own hands tangled in red hair. Something deep in Zerxus’ chest sings, burns, and he presses closer to Evandrin. When they separate, Evandrin is gasping for air, but smiling widely.

“Come meet my son.”

Evandrin takes him home.

His house is in Cloudstone, not far from Cerrit’s. The structure itself is made of white stone, tall and proud, surrounded by perfectly manicured gardens. Zerxus suspects that Laerryn must’ve had some pull in securing this property; it’s far too nice to be afforded on a guard’s salary, quietly stunning in the way that reflects much of Avalir’s beauty.

The inside tells a different story. Blankets and clothes- infant and adult-sized alike- are strewn over the sitting room, and Zerxus can just see into the kitchen, where dishes are stacked high on the counter. A faint blush appears on Evandrin’s cheeks as he hurriedly tucks away baby toys and clothes, but Zerxus only smiles when they catch each other’s eyes.

Evandrin relaxes slightly. He glances around the foyer, and then footsteps echo from down the hall. An apparently-young elf approaches them, nodding their head at Evandrin.

“Elias isn’t quite asleep yet, Evandrin,” they say, a smile quirking at their lips. “As you well know, he’s far too stubborn to nap on time.”

Evandrin sighs, but there’s no real conviction behind it. “Of course not.” He glances at the two people in front of him. “Sola, this is Zerxus. Zerxus, Sola. They take care of Elias when I cannot be home.”

“Lovely to meet you,” Zerxus says. Sola’s brow furrows, but they respond in kind, and Zerxus wonders if he has a reputation among Evandrin’s friends already.

“I’ll gladly relieve you of my stubborn son,” Evandrin says, and Sola nods. They disappear back down the hall- to gather their things or say goodbye to Elias- and return a moment later.

“Enjoy your afternoon,” they say, and there’s enough mirth in their tone that Zerxus knows Evandrin is being teased about their relationship. Evandrin thanks them graciously, and Zerxus mutters a goodbye.

“Well,” Evandrin says, and although his blush has returned, he says nothing about Sola’s gleeful departure. “Shall I retrieve my insolent child?”

“I don’t want to disturb his naptime,” Zerxus says, but Evandrin only shakes his head.

“He’s hopeless. If Elias is not asleep now, then he will not be in an hour, and the only benefit of that is the increased chance of him sleeping past dawn tomorrow morning. It is better for us to give up hope now, and let you meet him.”

“As you say, then.”

“Make yourself at home,” Evandrin gestures to the sofa, and Zerxus sits while Evandrin retreats to the nursery. When he reappears, Elias is cradled in his arms, wrapped in a green blanket. He’s smaller than Zerxus expected him to be, and when Evandrin sits beside Zerxus, he gets a proper look at his face.

Elias’ features are delicate but clearly defined. From the curve of his nose to the shape of his brow and the exact shade of his irises, he is Evandrin’s son. It could not be more evident, except for the fact that Evandrin is beaming down at him like Elias is the sun itself, and Elias reaches a tiny hand up for his father’s face. There’s a sudden tightness in Zerxus’ chest, one that closes up his throat and steals all speech away from him.

“He’s beautiful, Evandrin,” Zerxus manages. Evandrin nods, gaze flickering from his son to Zerxus.

“Do you want to hold him?” Evandrin asks, and he must know how badly Zerxus wanted this, because the half-elf doesn’t wait for him to answer and dumps Elias into his arms.

Elias is tiny, but he’s heavy and warm against Zerxus’ chest. He’s also wide awake, and peering up at Zerxus with curious eyes that are the precise shade of his father’s.

Carefully and slowly, Zerxus reaches up to trace Elias’ brow. The infant squirms in his arms, but his gaze doesn’t leave Zerxus

“He likes you,” Evandrin says, and his voice sounds oddly thick. Zerxus glances up at him, blinking rapidly.

“Yeah,” he says, past the lump in his throat.

All he knows is that he never wants to let Elias go.

The baby falls asleep in his arms just minutes later. Elias watches Zerxus until his eyelids become heavy, and his blinks long and slow. His breathing evens out gradually, while Zerxus marvels at the joy in his arms, and Evandrin watches them both quietly. It’s several long minutes of silence, Zerxus just staring at Elias, already committing his features to memory, and when he realizes Elias is asleep, his breath hitches.

So this is love. So this is everything Zerxus didn’t even realize he wanted. This tiny weight in his arms, this elation of such an innocent trust- for Elias to fall asleep in his arms.

Zerxus knows- he knows, with every fiber of his being- he loves Elias already. As much as he already loves Evandrin. As brightly as the sun. As deeply as every ocean in Exandria. He knows that he will love Elias for the rest of his life.

“Evandrin,” he says, because even now, he’s afraid to say I love you. Fortunately, Evandrin seems to understand, because he settles closer to Zerxus, wrapping an arm around him and cupping the back of his neck with his other hand, touching their foreheads together.

“I’m in love with him, Nydas.”

“Oh, I know. Most of Avalir does, by now.”

Zerxus groans; Nydas smirks. “Quay tells me that there are rumors abound of prominent guardsmen sneaking around, having not-so-discreet meetups, kissing, giggling, in every one of Avalir’s alleyways. Two attractive, important men, rendezvousing around the city, clearly obsessed with each other- Brother, you and Evandrin are the most interesting thing to happen since the last Replenishment.”

“I never knew I could feel this deeply,” Zerxus confesses. There’s a lump in his throat, again, and his eyes burn. Nydas’ expression softens, and he leans closer to Zerxus, clasping his hand. “I only- I only want to be with them when we’re parted. Evandrin and Elias both.”

Zerxus sighs, his brow pinching together. “It terrifies me, how- how quickly this took hold. I want to be with Evandrin. I want to see Elias grow. And yet I cannot get past-“

“Zerxus,” Nydas interrupts, squeezing his hand. “You have a tender heart. You do not love halfheartedly, my friend. I have long known that when you found love, it would take you completely. But,” he continues when Zerxus slumps over the table, deflated. “I have fewer reservations about this than you. Were your lover someone I knew less, I would be wary. But Laerryn loves him dearly, and nothing in the months I have known him has given me cause to doubt his character. There is a reason you love him already, and that reason is not that you are a fool.”

“It’s maddening,” Zerxus groans into his hands. “How do I tell him-“

“Don’t. Give it time, Brother. Wait until you’re sure this isn’t mere infatuation-“ Zerxus lifts up his head to glare weakly at Nydas. “-and to ensure that he feels the same way.”

“Laerryn,” Evandrin says. “I am in love with him.”

“Oh my gods,” Quay says loudly, rolling his eyes. Laerryn grins widely at Evandrin.

“I told you.”

“Yes, I know,” Evandrin heaves a sigh, and resumes his pacing through Laerryn’s foyer. Loquacious watches him, bemused, while Laerryn laughs.

“I’ve never seen you like this.”

“I-” Evandrin spins on his heel. “Laerryn, he is my every thought and dream. Suddenly, I cannot see a future without him.” He chokes on the words, and the laughter drains from Laerryn’s face. “I have never known love like this before.”

“Oh.” Laerryn goes still, looking at him curiously. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

“Yes. I do. I very much do.”

His friend comes closer; Laerryn reaches up and carefully wipes the tears from his eyes.

“Then I am happy for you, Evandrin. May this love bring you every blessing you deserve.”

---------------

Zerxus meets Elias and the world changes. It shifts off its center, as it did the day Zerxus met Evandrin, and revolves around someone new. There are important things, like Avalir, and Zerxus’ family, and his role within the city. Things he loves, that fulfill him. But Evandrin and Elias- they are his heart. They are flames in his chest, painful and bright, curling against his ribs. The intensity of it hurts; Zerxus can hardly dwell on it, for fear of the feeling consuming him entirely. Suddenly, he lives for Elias’s soft, curious smiles, his bubbling laughter. He exists for Evandrin’s kisses, the feeling of his hands on Zerxus’ chest. All that matters- that truly matters- is the sweet and innocent trust of Elias falling asleep in his arms, the gentle pride of calming him when he cries. And, Evandrin speaking to him about their dreams, about the life they want to build together, about their hopes for Avalir, for their careers, for their friends, and for each other.

A pattern develops: Zerxus is almost never alone. Instead, he is with Evandrin, or Elias and Evandrin both. When Evandrin is on duty, and Zerxus is not, Zerxus volunteers to care for Elias, and so Elias gains a new caregiver. They spend long hours together; Zerxus learns feeding and naptime and diaper schedules. He feeds Elias with careful hands, talks to him, pointing out birds and flowers in the gardens, and sings and rocks him to sleep. That’s how Evandrin finds them most often; Elias blissfully asleep, still clutched in Zerxus’ arms. Zerxus doesn’t want to let him go, he explains. Having Elias in his arms is the best thing in the world.

It’s too much to bear. It is pain in his chest, killing him again and again- it is too much for one man to feel. When Zerxus thinks about it- about his love for Elias, for Evandrin, about their love for him- his heart rises into his throat and he chokes on it. It is brutal. This love unmakes him, reduces him to ash and builds him again. He is nothing without it and everything for it. There is color and sunshine and music in the world because of them, for them. Each drop of joy in the world exists for Elias and Evandrin alone. There could be no purpose for bright and lovely things, other than for the loves of his life to enjoy, for Elias to discover with happy giggles, or to light up Evandrin’s face with delight.

Zerxus has many things he lives for, and two people he exists for.

They show it, rather than say it, dancing delicately around the words for months. It is implicit in every kiss, in each gentle caress of their bodies, each whisper breathed to each other late at night. It’s evident when Evandrin trusts Elias to his care, when Evandrin hands his son to Zerxus, and the boy smiles.

Then, Elias turns six months old, and it is an unassuming day but an important one nonetheless. Zerxus is dancing around the kitchen, Elias on his hip and cuddled against his shoulder. He’s humming something of a lullaby, one he half remembers from his own youth when Evandrin comes home. It’s the break of dawn, delicate pink light just staring to peer in through the windows.

Evandrin has just finished a night shift, and Zerxus had stayed over with Elias, who decided to start the day very, very early.

He takes them in; both his child and partner have bleary eyes. Elias is sucking his thumb and hiding his face from the light. Zerxus’ hair is uncombed and he’s still dressed in his sleepclothes. He’s swaying around the kitchen, humming to fill in the blanks when he forgets the words to whatever song he’s singing. His voice is still gravelly, this early in the morning.

Evandrin stands in the doorway, smiling faintly as he watches. It’s nearly half a minute before Zerxus notices him there, and when he does, there’s a burst of shock across his face that quickly melts away to something much warmer and softer.

“Good morning,” Zerxus says, grinning. Elias stirs in his arms and peers at Evandrin with big, sleepy eyes, but doesn’t otherwise move towards his father.

“Morning,” Evandrin breathes and floats closer to them. Zerxus wraps his free arm around him, and Evandrin presses a kiss to his forehead, then another to Elias’.

“I love you,” he says softly, suddenly, looking directly into the warmth of Zerxus’ eyes.

Zerxus stares at him, delighted, now fully awake.

It’s not like they didn’t know. Both of them. They knew.

It just hadn’t been put into those exact words, yet.

Zerxus leans in and kisses him again. “I love you too,” he says seriously, although he’s beaming brighter than the sun shines.

Evandrin exhales through his nose, his heart pounding. It’s nearly insane, how far gone he is for Zerxus.

Elias squirms and coos, and reaches out to grab Evandrin’s face.

Both men chuckle, but their eyes never leave each other.

It is a leap of faith, to say it. Zerxus confesses that he didn’t believe in love at first sight until he met Evandrin. That the intensity of it all scared him. That he’d never felt so deeply before.

I love you, and I know you love me too, and I will not leave because of it, Evandrin tells him. It is a gentle reminder, in the raw vulnerability of their passion, that they will not willfully hurt each other. That they are there to stay.

And so: I love you, Zerxus breathes against Evandrin’s sweaty skin. I love you, he moans, when their bodies are entangled and all Zerxus can feel is Evandrin’s hands on him. I love you, he whispers, and it is often the last thing he thinks or remembers before falling asleep each night. I love you, he says before kissing Evandrin goodbye whenever they must part.

He thinks it again now, during a sleepy dawn after a long night. They had both worked the evening before, but Elias and adrenaline both kept them awake, so instead of sleeping, they talked for hours, muttering half coherently to one another. Zerxus lies facing Evandrin, their hair spilling across pillows and tangling, their limbs intertwined as well.

“I love you,” Zerxus says. “I love you so very much.”

What Zerxus doesn’t say is that he knows every inch of Evandrin’s skin, that he knows the tanlines on his arms and neck, that he knows the number of freckles on each of Evandrin’s shoulders, that he has a thousand words to describe the exact color of his hair (red, to start, but also: fire in the sunlight, gold when it’s caught in the last light of the day, brown and heavy when it’s wet, thin and fine and delicate threads of silk, soft in Zerxus’ hands-), that there are calluses on both his hands but more on the left, his dominant hand, that his skin is rough sometimes, weathered by the sun and years of swordwork, but other times, his hands are soft and gentle because he’s just put oil on Elias’ sensitive skin. He knows he can feel each of Evandrin’s vertebrae, but only when his back is arched, he knows that Evandrin’s abdomen isn’t sharply defined, but when he puts his hands on his lover’s stomach, he can feel the toned muscle beneath him. He’s lean enough that Zerxus can trace the outline of his pelvis bone with his fingers, small enough that when they hug, Evandrin about disappears into the embrace. He knows the gentle pride and overwhelming joy that lights up Evandrin’s face when he looks at Elias, knows the quiet weariness and frustration in his hunched shoulders after a long day. He knows the proud smiles that are just for Laerryn, and the teasing grins, the amused glances, the wonder in his eyes, the love the love the love that fills his face and puts a spring in his step and makes Evandrin glow like pure starlight.

That glow is just for him. That glow is a testament to their love, their devotion, and the depth of their bond.

For Zerxus, the way Evandrin looks at him is the meaning of the universe. It is a reminder of all the things about love Evandrin has taught him: what it means to love every part of another person, and to love them with every part of yourself.

I know you in my soul. Every piece of you has been written into the very fabric of my being, and I realized this the very first time I saw you. I knew you, all of you, in every conceivable way, from the second you first told me your name. I knew then, as I know now, that our destinies were written as one. There is no part of my story that is without you. Every part of my past led to you, and you are my present, and you are the only future I could ever want or dream of.

“What is it?” Evandrin murmurs, his eyebrows pinched together, and Zerxus’ breath hitches. Evandrin wipes under his eyes, and Zerxus realizes that he’s crying, hot tears on his cheeks.

“I love you,” Zerxus chokes. “I love you so much I can’t stand it.”

Worry flashes to confusion fades to relief and endearment. “I love you too,” Evandrin says, pressing a kiss to Zerxus’ temple. He meets Zerxus’ eyes, and his own are shining. “I know,” he whispers, and when his voice wavers, Zerxus understands they are feeling this love in the same way. “I know it, too.”

When they rise, it is because they are restless and hungry. Elias’ room is finally quiet; they surmise that he’s asleep, for now. Evandrin and Zerxus share fruit and bread for breakfast, then Zerxus kisses Evandrin, and tries to make his goodbyes.

“Stay,” Evandrin says, and grabs Zerxus’ hand.

“I need to go home,” Zerxus protests, and Evandrin shakes his head. “I need to bathe. I need fresh clothes.”

“Get your things and come back here.”

“Change and come back?” Even before Evandrin shakes his head again, Zerxus knows that’s not what he needs.

“Pack up your house and bring everything here. Then, stay.”

“Move in?”

“Come home.” Evandrin juts his chin out stubbornly. “You spend more time here than anywhere else. I love you, Elias loves you-“

Zerxus cuts him off with a kiss. “Yes,” he says. “My love, you do not need to convince me. I am yours. I will stay.”

It is a simple routine of caring for Elias and going to work, and finding moments for themselves somewhere in between. There is balance, a gentle bliss to their domestic life, and it is good.

There are other serious conversations, beyond I love you and move in with me. There are difficult parts in building a life together, but they face them together and that is enough.

Much of it is good, though, like when the three of them are sitting together in the lounge, Elias crawling between their laps. Evandrin reaches out to smooth back Elias’ hair, then glances at Zerxus and grins.

“Darling,” he says slowly. “You know that when Elias talks, he will call me Ada. It’s what I called my own father.”

Zerxus raises an eyebrow, but nods. Evandrin’s father was an elf, and Evandrin has always been Ada, not Dad to Elias.

“I would like for him to call you Dad, Zerxus.”

“Oh,” Zerxus chokes, and Evandrin’s expression softens, . He squeezes Zerxus’ hand.

“Are you sure?” Zerxus manages. “I-“

“You love and care for him as a father does, Zerxus. You have devoted yourself to his care since before you moved into this house. You are very much his father; you are his parent as much I am.”

He nods, closing his eyes. Evandrin squeezes his hand again, and Zerxus clutches back, taking a breath to steady himself.

“I would be honored,” he says, voice trembling. “I- Evandrin,  I don’t know if I’ve ever told you how lucky I am to be a part of his life. That I found you and him both. That we are family chosen and made. That you trust me with your son, to care for him and love him. Truly, it’s an honor, Evandrin.”

The half-elf smiles, sincere, and presses their foreheads together. “Our son, my darling. He and I both are lucky to have you.”

Evandrin wants to be First Knight.

He’d said this the night they met; that this was how he wished to serve Avalir. Those were the principal goals; to raise Elias and to become First Knight. Since meeting Evandrin, Zerxus’ own goals have become similarly aligned, but.

That is another serious conversation they have.

“I want this.” Evandrin’s jaw is firmly set. “I have wanted this since returning to Avalir.”

“Then you will have it.”

“Elias-“

“Will be in my care.” Zerxus grips his partner’s shoulders. “My love, you will be First Knight. If you are gone more because of it-“ Evandrin bows his head, and Zerxus strokes his cheek, lifting his  head up again. “-then we shall miss you dearly and celebrate your successes as they come.” He leans in, kissing Evandrin tenderly. “But do not worry about Elias. You will be First Knight and I will care for him.”

And so Elias grows, and the more Evandrin works, the more Zerxus stays home to care for their son. Zerxus does not sacrifice his own job entirely, so there is a greater need for their nanny, but part of Zerxus’ heart breaks every time his son is left at home without one of his fathers. Evandrin works nearly twice as much as he once did, and Zerxus half as much, and that becomes their way of life.

It is a subtle thing, at first. But change takes hold, and it does not let go easily.

Elias’ cries pierce the night. Zerxus stirs first, but Evandrin wakes and stumbles out of bed before he can get up staggering into the nursery. He listens to Evandrin’s quiet murmurs, mixed in with muffled footsteps on the carpeted floor. The routine is so familiar, Zerxus knows it by sound alone: Elias has been changed and attempted to be fed, and still, he cries.

Sleep does not retake him, not while Evandrin struggles and Elias sobs. He figures- by the count of a jagged lullaby repeated over and over- it has been half an hour since Elias first woke them, and that is when Zerxus rises too, going to his partner and his son. Evandrin looks up at him with tired eyes, wordlessly handing over Elias, who squirms against his chest, burying his face into Zerxus’ tunic. He sobs, a pathetic, heartbroken sound, and Zerxus begins to rock him, rubbing soothing circles into his back.

Zerxus sits in the nursery’s rocking chair, Evandrin standing behind him. Elias begins to settle, his cries gradually quieting. They rock, and just minutes later, Elias is asleep.

“I’m impressed,” Evandrin murmurs, and when Zerxus looks up at him, his brow is pinched together. Then, his expression neutralizes, and he leans down to kiss the top of Zerxus’ head.

“Mm.” Zerxus stands carefully, but Elias isn’t disturbed until Zerxus makes an attempt to set him down. His eyes fly open and he gives a small cry. Zerxus sighs and brings Elias close to him once more.

“He just wants you,” Evandrin muses, then he presses a kiss to Zerxus’ cheek. “Come, then. Bring him to bed with us.”

Zerxus obliges, pulled into their bedroom with one hand and holding Elias with the other.

Elias is nearly a year old, and although Zerxus could have never predicted these circumstances, he finds himself fussing over development milestones. Their baby (his son) is already standing, clutching to their legs or furniture, wavering there as if he’s trying to figure out how to put one foot in front of the other and walk. Cerrit has been teasing them both, that they no longer have a baby, they have a toddler- Maya, who is about two, has been walking and flying already, and Zerxus suspects that it’s mostly a want for commiserating that prompts this teasing.

But Zerxus knows Elias will talk before he walks- Elias babbles incessantly, with clear confidence. He knows exactly what he’s saying, even if Zerxus can’t understand him.

“Dada,” Zerxus will say to him.

“Ada,” Evandrin insists a moment later. “My little love, it is the same sound but in a different order. Ada.”

And Elias will reply with something intelligible, and Zerxus will resolve again to keep talking to Elias until he’s granted a reply.

The three of them are together, on a rare lazy afternoon. Evandrin is making them lunch, Zerxus trying to prevent Elias’ own food from ending up on the floor. When he fails, Zerxus sighs, picking up berries off the floor and moving into the kitchen to dispose of the sullied fruit, but he turns his back, and-

“Dada,” Elias whines, kicking his legs. Zerxus and Evandrin both freeze, and Zerxus turns slowly around.

“Say that again,” he says, breathless. Elias meets his eyes, his face lighting up.

“Dadada,” he says proudly, and then Zerxus is laughing, scooping him out of his high chair.

“Dadada,” Elias continues, tugging at Zerxus’ beard. He hardly cares, because then Evandrin’s arms are around them both.

“My clever boy,” Evandrin coos, kissing Elias’ forehead, then Zerxus’. “You are so smart already.”

Elias stands, clutching the end of the sofa tightly. Zerxus holds out his arms to him, waiting, and then Elias lets go, standing on his own. He takes an uncertain step towards Zerxus, whose breath catches in his throat. Then, another step on wobbly legs, and Zerxus laughs with pure delight, but then Elias loses balance and promptly falls on his rear end. The laugher leaves Zerxus instantly, his face sobering, but then Elias peers up at him, grinning, and bursts into laughter.

Relieved, Zerxus’ smile returns, and he sweeps Elias into his arm, peppering him with kisses all across his face and belly.

“Look at you!” He gushes. “My sweet boy.” Almost instinctively, he looks around the room for Evandrin, then remembers his partner is gone for the day. Instead of sharing his joy with Evandrin, he buries his face in Elias’ downy hair. “Your father will be so proud of you.”

“Dadadada,” Elias insists. “Ada.”

“Yes, my love.” He kisses Elias’ forehead, and the boy squirms in his arms. “You will have to show off your talents when Ada gets home.”

When Evandrin returns, far later than his shift was scheduled to end, both Zerxus and Elias are asleep. He does not get to see a demonstration of Elias’ new skill until the morning comes, and when Zerxus sees the hurt shining in Evandrin’s eyes at what he’d missed, he kisses his love, assuring him that there are many days to come that they may share together, and that instead will be enough.

---------------

One year to the day they met, Evandrin takes Zerxus to the garden where they spent their first evening together. They ascend, hand in hand, to the rooftop overlook, and then, once a peaceful quiet has settled between them, Evandrin kisses Zerxus sweetly before dropping to one knee, producing a ring with a twisting gold band and dark glittering amethysts and sapphires.

“Zerxus,” Evandrin says. “I want to marry you.

“You are the love of my life and the father of my child and the other half of my soul. I knew from the moment I first saw you: our fates are intertwined and I am meant to spend the rest of my life loving you. You, Zerxus Ilerez, my beloved, are the only one who I could ever want-” He chokes then, visibly biting back a sob. “I want you. I need you in my life, every day, so long as I should live. I love you so much. Please-” tears begin to spill over, slipping down Evandrin’s cheeks. “Marry me.”

Zerxus laughs, a sound of pure joy; his legs wobble beneath him, and he too, sinks to his knees, crouching at Evandrin’s level.

“Yes,” he manages. Zerxus is crying too, tears blurring his vision. “Yes, of course.” He leans in to press his forehead against Evandrin’s; his tears drip down onto his love’s face and mingle with the salt already there. “I will marry you,” Zerxus says, and then Evandrin is kissing him desperately, full and hungry, grabbing him by the shirt and tugging their bodies flush. “I’m going to marry you,” Zerxus gasps, between kisses. “I love you so much.”

“We’re getting married,” Zerxus declares, grinning, and Cerrit and Nydas beam at them, instantly offering warm congratulations. Laerryn, however, just looks at Evandrin and smirks, and Patia and Loquatius share a shit-eating grin.

“You don’t have to be so smug about it,” Zerxus complains, his shoulders sagging. Beside him, Evandrin laughs, and it is a sound still as beautiful as the first time Zerxus heard it.

“In our defense,” Quay says, although he’s smiling now, warm and genuine, “we’ve known you two were going to get married since the night you first met.”

Nydas laughs at that, then folds Zerxus into a hug. “It is not a surprise,” he confirms. “Though it is joyous news nonetheless. Congratulations, brother.”

It is the first and last step of a journey together; long have Zerxus and Evandrin dedicated themselves to building a life together. Their son will only ever know Zerxus and Evandrin both as his parents; they have a home and a family together already, and, in many ways, that completes the first part of their lives as partners. Concurrently, their engagement- their looming marriage- is the foundation of all of this- they are each other’s spiritually, mentally, physically- and now contractually. 

“It is the solidification of our lives together, in the eyes of the gods,” Evandrin says, then his lips twitch and he rolls his eyes. “Or in the eyes of Avalir, legally speaking.”

A wedding, rings- these things mean less than waking up beside each other every day, less than raising a child together, less than choosing to spend their time together, less than confessing their hopes and dreams to one another. 

But it is nice to formalize it. And better still, they can celebrate their love for the whole world to see, in a celebration that has Avalir buzzing with excitement.

They wed at the end of summer. It rains all day, then the skies part an hour before the ceremony, and they resume their plans of marrying in an outside courtyard, in Gallamor, near where they first met.

Both men don robes of deep blue and ceremonial armor. Evandrin is already more decorated than Zerxus, but that hardly matters. They had been parted early in the morning, Elias left to Cerrit’s care. When they meet again on the altar, they have eyes only for each other. The crowd- which includes the Ring of Brass, and the Ring of Silver, and many other prestigious figures in Avalir- whispers softly amongst themselves, but Zerxus does not hear. There, in front of him, is the love of his life.

“Welcome, all, to this most joyous union…” Quay begins, focusing on the two men before him, then smiling widely out at the crowd.

Evandrin beams at him; he’s always beautiful, always shining, but Zerxus especially knows it now. He’s resplendent, teeming with joy. Zerxus loves him so much.

But Zerxus thinks on it too long, and his eyes fill with tears; he takes half a step closer to Evandrin, who gives a watery smile and reaches up to hold his face. He presses their foreheads together, and they stand like that while the Quay continues. He speaks of love and commitment and Zerxus half listens, but mostly, he’s focused on Evandrin, who wipes the tears from his cheeks and breathes with him, until:

“Do you, Evandrin Alterra, swear to love, protect, and honor this man, as long as you both shall live?”

Evandrin beams at Zerxus. “I do.”

“And do you, Zerxus Ilerez, swear to love, protect, and honor this man, as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.” His voice cracks.

“I now pronounce you wed. You may kiss.”

They do. Zerxus eagerly closes the gap between them, and Evandrin responds in kind, and that is the beginning, and the end.

#zerxus x evandrin #zerxus ilerez #evandrin alterra #elias alterra #exandria calamity #exandria unlimited #critical role #critical role fanfiction #cr #critrole #exu calamity #exu #critical role fanfic #exandria unllimited calamity #zerxus/evandrin

[primasveraas-writing]

black feathers and cherry blossoms

Keyleth stands under the tree, feeling the last light of a dying day on her face.

A raven caws above her; she lifts her chin to see a large raven soar overhead. The breeze picks up then; black feathers and cherry blossoms sweep by her in the gust of wind.

Keyleth thinks of Nell, suddenly a bereaved mother and a widow all at once. She thinks of Nell and Will, and Orym and his own mother, and her heart aches.

She thinks of Vax’s father, and then of her own. She thinks of Orym’s father and Derrig. The painful feeling in her chest grows.

Another harsh, mournful sound from above. Keyleth remembers I thought we’d have more time and thinks of love cut too short.

-

Across the world, Orym gasps for breath. Everything hurts, and-

It will all be over soon.

And-

He thinks of Derrig. He thinks of his only true father, and his heart aches.

He thinks of Will. He thinks of his love, how he’s failed his husband one more time.

A sword runs him through.

Orym thinks of Dorian, reaching for the stone hidden within his pockets. His fingers touch something smooth and cool, and he thinks of Dorian, and then nothing else.

-

Elsewhere, on a plane unknown to them both, stands a guardian, alone, holding a tangle of golden threads in his hand. They pulse gently, shimmer brightly, and Vax watches them all.

#critical role #critical role spoilers #cr #cr spoilers #orym #dorym #orym of the air ashari #dorym fic #dorian storm #critrole #critical role fanfiction #keyleth #vaxleth #keyleth of the air ashari #vax #vax'ildan

[primasveraas-writing]

Do you have an ao3, or do you just post here?

both! my ao3 is just primasveraas. i cross post just about everything- so my upcoming zerxus/evandrin fic will be on tumblr via this account (and reblogged to @psychicdamaged ) but also posted to ao3

#xreader shit and ships stay on tumblr #my 62k word fic is only on ao3 #live-from-the-bog #answered

[primasveraas-writing]

evandrin is kissing zerxus so tenderly on the mouth

Evandrin looks at him; the corners of his mouth are turned up and there’s a slight flush to his cheeks and his eyes shine like the stars.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he says, and Zerxus just nods, dumbstruck. Evandrin moves in closer, pressing their bodies close together, and then cups Zerxus’ cheek. His hands are soft, and so are his lips.

He tastes like sweet wine. Zerxus is so gone.

#i havent found the 20k word early stage relationshop zerxus x evandrin fic so unfortunately i am now writing it #ty to whoever sent this in #to TWO of my blogs #luckily for them #i would have written this anyways #exu calamity #zerxus ilerez #zerxus x evandrin #critical role #critical role fanfiction #cr calamity #exandria unlimited #exandria calamity #exandria unlimited calamity #evandrin alterra

[primasveraas-writing]

“and the world went away"

The title is from West Side Story. The full song lyric is “I saw you and the world went away.”

I listened to Billie Eilish’s “The End of the World” on repeat while writing this. It fits the theme very well, and I recommend listening while reading.

Exu Calamity spoilers lie ahead! And angst!

WORD COUNT: 1729

XXX

Zerxus is restless.

Sleep is plagued by nightmares, and his waking moments are filled with worry. Anxiety drowns him- he is busy as First Knight of Avalir, but there is still enough time for dread and worry to creep in during whatever quiet moments he stumbles into.

He tries not to think about his nightmares. The Replenishment approaches, and there is much to do. He will see Elias soon.

He tries not to think about his son. There is Avalir, bright, front, and center, and yet-

There is a dark pit in his stomach. There are holes in his heart. Some will never be healed, but his son- he is close, and his forgiveness alone could bring Zerxus back into the light. He could fix it all, if his sweet son had the strength in his own heart.

If Zerxus let him. If Zerxus truly wanted to heal.

And of course, that thought leads to greater fear and anxiety, and the underlying horror of what if he hates me? There are the nightmares, and the call to duty, and the still-throbbing loss of Evandrin, and underneath that, there is a quiet, thready pulse of my son my son my son- I’ll see him soon, and even if he hates me, I’ll see his face again.

He tries to picture his son, older- (You know I won’t look like this when you come home)- but all he sees is the young boy he had left behind. All he sees is Evandrin’s face, his eyes and his hair and his face, and although Zerxus can imagine his son, he cannot see him.  

Quiet of his own making surrounds Zerxus. A part of him, that died years ago, misses late nights and early mornings with a newborn. Misses gentle snores and deep breaths in bed beside him, aches for the nonsensical chatter of a young child. He has not had a home since Evandrin died, and if his heart were whole, he might know the loss of one, noise and laughter and all.

The grief- what he feels and chooses not to feel- threatens to swallow him.

His nightmares get worse.

The Replenishment approaches.

Something is coming.

--

Something does. He hears his husband’s voice, sees his face, and pulls the Lord of Hells into Exandria.

There is chaos, and death is around every corner. The Ring of Brass is scattered and confused, and Zerxus cannot help them. He cannot think, cannot understand the magnitude of what he’s just done. But in all of it, in spite of everything-

Zerxus is foolish. When the world begins to end, he is relieved that his first thought is of his son- a cruel voice whispers that it took the end of the world for Zerxus to think of Elias before Avalir. A good father would always consider their child first.

Zerxus is not sure he’s a good father, but as the fires and screams begin, Zerxus fights his way to his son, before anything else can happen.

He makes his way down, down, down- through fire and smoke and death, to see his son. To warn him. To ensure his safety. To say goodbye.

He won’t recognize you. Not because your grief has shaped you, aged you, but because your soul has been blackened. You have changed, Zerxus Ilerez, and you are no father that Elias would know. 

But nonetheless, his feet hit the ground- real ground, he is back on the earth, far from the clouds, for the first time in seven years-

Eaedalus greets him in the crowd of scrambling people, asks after his brother. He’s alive, Elias is alive-

“See him yourself,” Eaedalus says, and Zerxus finally does.

There is Elias- older and taller, and still so young in the face, but sorrow and wisdom and many more years of life shining in his eyes- and overwhelming love hits Zerxus, as strong as the first time. Love so powerful it chokes Zerxus, brings tears to his eyes, makes him stumble and his heart thud to a stop in his chest. Love like I cannot believe one person can feel this much and I think if I loved you any more it would destroy me.

(I loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you.)

Then he recoils in shock and fear, and Zerxus remembers that he is a monster, that he is covered in blood and gore, and worse still, there are horns sprouting from his head. He is marked by evil-

-and his son, 13, looks at him, and goes: 

“Daddy?”

He is still a boy. Barely a teenager. Far from a man, no longer a child- until Zerxus looks in his eyes, and sees Elias, young and afraid, sees his son at five years old, before his world was shattered with grief and pain.

“Dad?”

“It’s me.” Zerxus is a traitor, a monster, to his city, to his people, to his son. “Just look at my eyes.”

There is no time. His city and the world are dying- Zerxus doesn’t have time to be here; there’s not enough time even for this rushed goodbye.

Elias deserves far more. He has deserved more his whole life.

You cannot choose him now. You are mine. You have dedicated years to this city, to your grief, to your own selfishness. You get minutes with your son. But you are mine for the rest of eternity.

“I have to go.”

Zerxus has only minutes. He got to see Elias’ face one last time.

His son stares at him, and there is fear and sorrow, and little else. He looks confused, and Zerxus doesn’t know what to do, how to comfort him- father and son, strangers-

“This is for you. Everything you’ve ever wanted to know about me and your father, it’s here.”

A book, instead of years of joy and time together, for the boy he loves but doesn’t know, hasn’t known, betrayed, left behind, failed. His husband’s flesh and blood, an echo of the person they both loved, and the only true remnant of the life they had together. 

By dawn, Elias will be alone again, and that life will be truly gone.

“Dad, Dad- wait- I’m sorry! I’m sorry.”

There is so much regret, and it belongs to Zerxus alone. “You have nothing to be sorry about.”

“I do.”

In his hands, Elias holds a spell kite, complete and unsent.

They didn’t get to say hello, and now this is goodbye. Elias couldn’t bear to face his father, the man who abandoned him to grief, and now Zerxus is leaving again.

“I don’t know why I didn’t send it.”

I do. “It’s okay.”

“I don’t know why I didn’t-”

“You don’t need to explain yourself. I know why, and it’s okay. It’s okay.”

I have broken your heart a thousand times, in all the ways that parents do, and in so many more.

I’m going to break your heart again.

Please, please, understand, if only one far-off day.

“Elias, I loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you. Everything I’ve wished for you to know about me, it’s in this book. Take it with you.”

I have kept so many of my thoughts and dreams and wishes for him in this book.

My son, I loved your father so much that when I lost him, I forgot how to live.

I should have lived for you.

You were just a child.

When Zerxus looks at his son now, older and taller, sorrow and wisdom and years of life shining in his eyes, he still sees the boy he knew long ago, when their family was whole and happy, and things were right. That is the boy who begs for his forgiveness, who sees his father and what he has become and loves him.

He can’t breathe. He didn’t think anything could be worse than meeting Elias again. The love he feels, fresh and raw and renewed, was enough to kill him, and now it is mingled with endless grief, and it chokes him.

Elias- thirteen, seven, five- stares at him still.

“You will always be five years old to me, no matter how much you grow.”

My son, my son, my son.

All I will ever know is that I loved you.

“Dad!” 

“I have to go.”

He tears himself away, and he feels his heart break over again the second Elias leaves his sight. Tempus nuzzles him, and then Elias is right behind him, holding the journal and spell kite and feather.

"Dad, tell me that you're going to be all right. Why do you look like this?"

Or: I cannot lose you too. What’s going to happen?

Zerxus cannot tell the truth, and cannot muster the strength to lie to his son, either.

“What you see on the outside doesn't matter, my son. Just remember what's here.” He looks at his son- young and beautiful and so much like his father. “Then you will always see me for who I really am.”

Before I was a monster, I was your father. 

You will always be my son, no matter how far- how changed I am. And that matters

Tempus flutters his wings, and they lurch into the air. Zerxus hears Elias cry out, but he doesn’t look back until he is far above, watching Elias be dragged towards the ships until he disappears beneath clouds and smoke.

Avalir needs him now. If he helps the city, the world- then he gives Elias a better chance, too. 

Avalir needs him now. He has failed his city, but there is an hour left.

There is nothing he can do and so much he can do. Dawn approaches. His son will live to understand, the Ring of Brass will die, and if Zerxus too lives, he will face a far worse ending.

Perhaps. Perhaps that is their fate. Perhaps there is more.

Zerxus turns to the sky and glimpses the last of the stars shining far above. Horns weigh heavy on his head.

The stars are bright before the break of day. He pictures how the next night will look, from the ground of a ruined world instead of high above on shining Avalir. Still, he knows that the night sky, hidden behind smoke and ash, will be the same bright and constant view when he finally sees it again.

#tz rb

[primasveraas-writing]

“and the world went away"

The title is from West Side Story. The full song lyric is “I saw you and the world went away.”

I listened to Billie Eilish’s “The End of the World” on repeat while writing this. It fits the theme very well, and I recommend listening while reading.

Exu Calamity spoilers lie ahead! And angst!

WORD COUNT: 1729

XXX

Zerxus is restless.

Sleep is plagued by nightmares, and his waking moments are filled with worry. Anxiety drowns him- he is busy as First Knight of Avalir, but there is still enough time for dread and worry to creep in during whatever quiet moments he stumbles into.

He tries not to think about his nightmares. The Replenishment approaches, and there is much to do. He will see Elias soon.

He tries not to think about his son. There is Avalir, bright, front, and center, and yet-

There is a dark pit in his stomach. There are holes in his heart. Some will never be healed, but his son- he is close, and his forgiveness alone could bring Zerxus back into the light. He could fix it all, if his sweet son had the strength in his own heart.

If Zerxus let him. If Zerxus truly wanted to heal.

And of course, that thought leads to greater fear and anxiety, and the underlying horror of what if he hates me? There are the nightmares, and the call to duty, and the still-throbbing loss of Evandrin, and underneath that, there is a quiet, thready pulse of my son my son my son- I’ll see him soon, and even if he hates me, I’ll see his face again.

He tries to picture his son, older- (You know I won’t look like this when you come home)- but all he sees is the young boy he had left behind. All he sees is Evandrin’s face, his eyes and his hair and his face, and although Zerxus can imagine his son, he cannot see him.  

Quiet of his own making surrounds Zerxus. A part of him, that died years ago, misses late nights and early mornings with a newborn. Misses gentle snores and deep breaths in bed beside him, aches for the nonsensical chatter of a young child. He has not had a home since Evandrin died, and if his heart were whole, he might know the loss of one, noise and laughter and all.

The grief- what he feels and chooses not to feel- threatens to swallow him.

His nightmares get worse.

The Replenishment approaches.

Something is coming.

--

Something does. He hears his husband’s voice, sees his face, and pulls the Lord of Hells into Exandria.

There is chaos, and death is around every corner. The Ring of Brass is scattered and confused, and Zerxus cannot help them. He cannot think, cannot understand the magnitude of what he’s just done. But in all of it, in spite of everything-

Zerxus is foolish. When the world begins to end, he is relieved that his first thought is of his son- a cruel voice whispers that it took the end of the world for Zerxus to think of Elias before Avalir. A good father would always consider their child first.

Zerxus is not sure he’s a good father, but as the fires and screams begin, Zerxus fights his way to his son, before anything else can happen.

He makes his way down, down, down- through fire and smoke and death, to see his son. To warn him. To ensure his safety. To say goodbye.

He won’t recognize you. Not because your grief has shaped you, aged you, but because your soul has been blackened. You have changed, Zerxus Ilerez, and you are no father that Elias would know. 

But nonetheless, his feet hit the ground- real ground, he is back on the earth, far from the clouds, for the first time in seven years-

Eaedalus greets him in the crowd of scrambling people, asks after his brother. He’s alive, Elias is alive-

“See him yourself,” Eaedalus says, and Zerxus finally does.

There is Elias- older and taller, and still so young in the face, but sorrow and wisdom and many more years of life shining in his eyes- and overwhelming love hits Zerxus, as strong as the first time. Love so powerful it chokes Zerxus, brings tears to his eyes, makes him stumble and his heart thud to a stop in his chest. Love like I cannot believe one person can feel this much and I think if I loved you any more it would destroy me.

(I loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you.)

Then he recoils in shock and fear, and Zerxus remembers that he is a monster, that he is covered in blood and gore, and worse still, there are horns sprouting from his head. He is marked by evil-

-and his son, 13, looks at him, and goes: 

“Daddy?”

He is still a boy. Barely a teenager. Far from a man, no longer a child- until Zerxus looks in his eyes, and sees Elias, young and afraid, sees his son at five years old, before his world was shattered with grief and pain.

“Dad?”

“It’s me.” Zerxus is a traitor, a monster, to his city, to his people, to his son. “Just look at my eyes.”

There is no time. His city and the world are dying- Zerxus doesn’t have time to be here; there’s not enough time even for this rushed goodbye.

Elias deserves far more. He has deserved more his whole life.

You cannot choose him now. You are mine. You have dedicated years to this city, to your grief, to your own selfishness. You get minutes with your son. But you are mine for the rest of eternity.

“I have to go.”

Zerxus has only minutes. He got to see Elias’ face one last time.

His son stares at him, and there is fear and sorrow, and little else. He looks confused, and Zerxus doesn’t know what to do, how to comfort him- father and son, strangers-

“This is for you. Everything you’ve ever wanted to know about me and your father, it’s here.”

A book, instead of years of joy and time together, for the boy he loves but doesn’t know, hasn’t known, betrayed, left behind, failed. His husband’s flesh and blood, an echo of the person they both loved, and the only true remnant of the life they had together. 

By dawn, Elias will be alone again, and that life will be truly gone.

“Dad, Dad- wait- I’m sorry! I’m sorry.”

There is so much regret, and it belongs to Zerxus alone. “You have nothing to be sorry about.”

“I do.”

In his hands, Elias holds a spell kite, complete and unsent.

They didn’t get to say hello, and now this is goodbye. Elias couldn’t bear to face his father, the man who abandoned him to grief, and now Zerxus is leaving again.

“I don’t know why I didn’t send it.”

I do. “It’s okay.”

“I don’t know why I didn’t-”

“You don’t need to explain yourself. I know why, and it’s okay. It’s okay.”

I have broken your heart a thousand times, in all the ways that parents do, and in so many more.

I’m going to break your heart again.

Please, please, understand, if only one far-off day.

“Elias, I loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you. Everything I’ve wished for you to know about me, it’s in this book. Take it with you.”

I have kept so many of my thoughts and dreams and wishes for him in this book.

My son, I loved your father so much that when I lost him, I forgot how to live.

I should have lived for you.

You were just a child.

When Zerxus looks at his son now, older and taller, sorrow and wisdom and years of life shining in his eyes, he still sees the boy he knew long ago, when their family was whole and happy, and things were right. That is the boy who begs for his forgiveness, who sees his father and what he has become and loves him.

He can’t breathe. He didn’t think anything could be worse than meeting Elias again. The love he feels, fresh and raw and renewed, was enough to kill him, and now it is mingled with endless grief, and it chokes him.

Elias- thirteen, seven, five- stares at him still.

“You will always be five years old to me, no matter how much you grow.”

My son, my son, my son.

All I will ever know is that I loved you.

“Dad!” 

“I have to go.”

He tears himself away, and he feels his heart break over again the second Elias leaves his sight. Tempus nuzzles him, and then Elias is right behind him, holding the journal and spell kite and feather.

"Dad, tell me that you're going to be all right. Why do you look like this?"

Or: I cannot lose you too. What’s going to happen?

Zerxus cannot tell the truth, and cannot muster the strength to lie to his son, either.

“What you see on the outside doesn't matter, my son. Just remember what's here.” He looks at his son- young and beautiful and so much like his father. “Then you will always see me for who I really am.”

Before I was a monster, I was your father. 

You will always be my son, no matter how far- how changed I am. And that matters

Tempus flutters his wings, and they lurch into the air. Zerxus hears Elias cry out, but he doesn’t look back until he is far above, watching Elias be dragged towards the ships until he disappears beneath clouds and smoke.

Avalir needs him now. If he helps the city, the world- then he gives Elias a better chance, too. 

Avalir needs him now. He has failed his city, but there is an hour left.

There is nothing he can do and so much he can do. Dawn approaches. His son will live to understand, the Ring of Brass will die, and if Zerxus too lives, he will face a far worse ending.

Perhaps. Perhaps that is their fate. Perhaps there is more.

Zerxus turns to the sky and glimpses the last of the stars shining far above. Horns weigh heavy on his head.

The stars are bright before the break of day. He pictures how the next night will look, from the ground of a ruined world instead of high above on shining Avalir. Still, he knows that the night sky, hidden behind smoke and ash, will be the same bright and constant view when he finally sees it again.

#this fuckin series is so sad just kill me lmafo #exu calamity #exandria unllimited calamity #exandria calamity #exandria unlimited #zerxus ilerez #exu zerxus #zerxus x evandrin #cr zerxus #critical role #critical role fanfiction #critrole #cr #elias #cr elias #elias alterra #exu fanfic #exu evandrin #exu calamity fanfic

[primasveraas-writing]

thanks grammarly

#afhkjdhsakfjhaskfhlkdsahf #it said BITCH WHY #fic stuff #grammarly #angst #fanfic #fanfiction #writing

[primasveraas-writing]

"an echo, my promise"

She will be loved with us.

That is the first promise Bail makes to Padmé after she dies, and his first-ever to Leia.

WORD COUNT: 1189

XXX

Bail doesn’t speak to Padmé before she dies.

Of course, the day she died was also the day the Republic died, so they did hold whispered conversations in the wings of the Senate Building- our worst fears have come to pass, democracy has fallen, what in the stars are we going to do- but few words stick with him. He remembers the fear in Padmé’s eyes as she told him to stay safe, and promised to get back to him soon.

The next time he saw her, she was dying and laboring, and he didn’t speak to her before she died.

And then there are the babies.

They are the only proof of the love that once existed between Anakin Skywalker and Padmé Amidala; they are orphaned before they are a minute old, and Bail cannot save his friend, but.

She will be loved with us.

That is the first promise he makes to Padmé after she dies, and his first-ever to Leia.

---

There are other promises, once Bail and Breha fully accept that they are parents and they begin to figure out their new role. They are Leia’s mother and father now, yes, but they are not the only ones who define her parentage.

There are parts of Leia’s background that Bail prays Leia will never know. How exactly her mother died, for example, or how the memory of her father was destroyed. There is such darkness there, and he fears it.

On most days, Bail can relent Leia’s right to know these things, and that if the Empire is defeated, he will no longer need to protect her from these truths.

On some days, Bail hopes that he never has to break Leia’s heart by telling her.

But there are still silent vows Bail and Breha make to their friend, because Padmé was Leia’s mother too, even if she only laid eyes on her once.

They teach her the history of Naboo and its queens:

She will know your history without knowing that it’s hers, too. She will know you without knowing why.

They raise Leia as a princess, to one day follow in both her mothers’ footsteps:

She will be raised by another queen- a strong, powerful leader. She will be raised in the echoes of your compassion, conviction, and love.

They are her parents. They will love her as Padmé would have. They will love her as parents do.

We will love her when she cries in the middle of the night, although we have barely slept in months. We will love her when she smiles up at us, when we hold her in our arms. We will love her on the days when she is sweet and caring, and we will love her when the anger of her birth father shines through. We have loved her since she first arrived here, and we will love her until death parts us. We will love her even after then.

---

Bail sees so much of Padmé in his daughter- in the way her jaw sets when she’s made her mind, in the way she argues with such stubbornness once she’s made up her mind. He sees Padmé in the warmth of Leia’s brown eyes, in her laugh, in the shape of her face, in her gratefulness as she grows. He sees her in Leia’s passionate speeches, in her empathy and generosity, in her quick wit and deadly humor. There is so much of Bail and Breha there too, but Leia is every bit Padmé’s daughter.

One day she will know you. She will know your family, and she will know where she got all this from.

---

The trouble with raising a princess and a politician’s daughter is that she is angry, stubborn, and dislikes being told no.

In her defense, it is hard to do the latter; Leia is charming and sweet when she wants to be, and when that fails, hardheaded and nearly frightening. She is a force to be reckoned with from the first time Bail hears her cry (she doesn’t cry so much as scream or wail at the top of her lungs- she won’t stand to be unhappy for even a second) and this is a trait that dampens but doesn’t disappear as Leia grows.

When Leia is a young child, she is a menace and sometimes a brat. They love her still, of course, but raising Leia requires patience, and she seems to enjoy challenging them at every turn.

It keeps them on their toes. But it does remind Bail to nurture Leia’s softer side, too.

I will raise Leia into someone you would be proud of.

---

Leia springs onto the galactic stage eagerly, and Bail fears for her safety, because Leia would turn the galaxy upside down if she could, and that is a dangerous goal in the time of the Empire.

First, she wants to work in his Senatorial office. Then, she wants to join the rebel efforts. Then, she wants to run her own Rebellion missions, and have her own command, and do tactical and espionage and rescue operations-

It is so dangerous. Leia refuses to stay away.

I will keep her safe. I will help make the galaxy into a place where she can live freely and thrive.

---

But he cannot protect her from everything, and so Leia’s heart breaks for the first time after a relief mission to a dying world.

There were too many sick and too many dead; Bail should have sent someone else but Leia, naturally, had insisted, so she went and saw unimaginable horrors that she could not stop or lessen.

When she returns to Alderaan, she stands in his office doorway, blinking tears out of her eyes, and Bail rises from his desk, abandoning his work for the day to hold his teenage daughter in his arms, comforting her about the things neither of them can change.

Leia still wants to, though. She still believes she can.

Padmé was naive if only because of her endless belief in the goodness of others. Naive only in the way that she wished changes upon the galaxy that were too far out of reach.

I will protect Leia’s gentle heart, mend it if I have to, and she will continue to carry the empathy that defined your every step.

---

Scarif is razed.

Leia had been sent to rescue the Death Star plans. They don’t know if she succeeded. Nobody on her ship was left alive, Rebellion intelligence suspects.

They don’t know.

Bail is on Alderaan when a new, gigantic moon appears on the horizon.

An evacuation is attempted, but not for the Queen and her consort. There is no time. They will die with their people if that is what it comes to.

(He knows it will).

He is holding Breha in his arms when the sky fills with a searing green light, and the horizon ripples.

When the world around them starts to explode, Bail hears a whisper, a silent reassurance.

The voice is familiar, and it promises:

Leia will be safe.

Hope prevails.

Thank you for loving our daughter as I never could.

#bail organa #leia organa #princess leia #padme #padme amidala #padme naberrie #star wars #star wars fanfiction #sw fanfic #star wars fanfic #sw fic #sw fanfiction #leia organa fanfic #breha organa #bail x breha #padme and leia

[primasveraas-writing]

SWR- "(for now.)"

lowkey inspired by this post by @gizkalord bc it got me on the rebels feels again. hera misses her son (and the love of her life).

WORD COUNT: 829

XXX

The thing about Kanan's death was that it was permanent.

The thing about Ezra's disappearance was that the galaxy was wide and vast and Hera had a war to fight and a baby to care for. That in his last message, Ezra had spoken with finality and an apparent knowledge that he would be gone for a long time. That the purrgil, an animal Hera hardly knew of or understood, had taken her first son into deep space, and that he had not been seen nor heard from in years.

Kanan was gone. That was true and irrevocably permanent.

Ezra was gone. This was true but not permanent.

In the months after the Battle of Lothal, Hera had made lists in her head. Things she couldn’t change and things she could.

Things she couldn’t change:

-Kanan was dead

-Her child would never meet their father

-Her family would forever be missing at least one member

-Her family was splintered, spread out across the galaxy

Then, the things that she could change:

-The Rebellion was struggling against the Empire

-Her child would be raised by a single mother

-Her child would be raised during a galactic war

-Ezra was gone

The second list became itemized. It became her lifeline, a mantra she repeated to herself when the grief or the fear threatened to overwhelm her. She would get through her pregnancy and figure out a way to care for her baby. She would survive the next battle, then the next. The Rebellion would grow. They would win the war. Then, they would find Ezra.

It was difficult to reconcile with the order of things. Gods, she just wanted Ezra back. She wanted Kanan back, too, but he was, impossibly, further away than Ezra. She wanted to spend every second of every day combing every inch of the galaxy for Ezra, but first.

But first, they had a war to fight.

Her boys seemed to realize this before they left her. Kanan and Ezra had accepted their fates calmly- my loss is secondary to the war. Secondary to your survival.

And also:

I love you. I do this for Lothal. I do it for you, and for our family. I am far but not gone. I will see you again one day.

They had left her with so many things unsaid.

One day apparently meant years or decades in the future. Too long for Hera to count the hours or rotations. By the time Jacen was born, she had already lost track of the exact number of days she had been without her partner and son.

It was ridiculously unfair. But Hera had lost her mother to war before she had reached adulthood, so she was used to unfair.

She was used to loss. She knew how to grieve effectively. She didn’t want to- she had waited so long to say I love you to Kanan for that very reason- but that didn’t matter. She had loved him long before she declared it out loud.

Hera understood how to heal from a permanent loss. She knew how to survive with half a heart.

Mourning Ezra was different, because she waited for years for Ezra to suddenly remerge, and he didn’t. Hera missed him and mourned for that loss, but she couldn’t accept that he was truly gone.

Maybe that was a bittersweet blessing, though. She had healed from Kanan’s loss (for the most part) before realizing that Ezra would be gone for a long, long time, and so she had to grieve him too.

That was another battle she had faced: Hera expected to see Ezra everywhere she went. On every backwater world, she searched for his face, had his name on the tip of her tongue, ready to call out for him when he was finally spotted.

That never happened. The war continued, then the war ended.

Sabine came to her when all was said and done, and vowed to find Ezra. It was a calling, she said. Something she knew she had to do- something Ezra had told her to do.

In some ways, Sabine had already flown from the nest- Hera and Kanan had let her go for the sake of Mandalore, and that was a decision that hurt, but that had been accepted. She was their family, but she was an adult. They were proud of her, and she would forge her own path, even if it diverged from theirs.

Hera gave her blessing for Sabine to leave again.

She hugged the young woman- her daughter in all but blood, and told her to bring Ezra home.

There they were: more unspoken words. The ones that had come to her when she accepted the losses of Kanan and Ezra, the ones she used to soothe herself as she watched Sabine depart again.

I love you. I have loved you since the day you entered my life. In order to survive, I must let you go.

(For now.)

#peep the vox machina refernce #hera syndulla #hera syndulla fanfic #ezra bridger #where is ezra #ezra come home #swr #swr fanfic #swr fanfiction #star wars #star wars rebels #sw rebels #rebels #rebels fanfic #sabine wren #ghost crew #sw rebels fanfic #star war fanfic #kanera #kanan x hera #kanan jarrus #star wars rebels fanfic #star wars rebels fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #star wars fic

[primasveraas-writing]

whoops! writing everywhere but on this blog.

a crowded battlefield. force-wielder and mandalorian stand back-to-back, facing off against an impossible number of enemies. the odds are against them- they cannot win alone, and there is nowhere to run.

a third lightsaber hums to life, a faint green emerging from the shadows. everything stills- even their enemies pause to take in this new presence.

there’s a blur of motion, and 4 of the opposing soldiers are cut down in an instant. the mandalorian should flinch away, but she doesn’t. instead, she raises her eyes to see him, tall and proud. older than she ever had pictured him.

“you’re late,” sabine tells ezra, choked, breathless, grinning.

her brother just smiles at her in return, and raises his lightsaber against their foes once more.

#ezra bridger #swr #star wars rebels #sw rebels #star wars #rebels #ahsoka tano #sabine wren #rebels fanfic #swr fanfic

[primasveraas-writing]

ive been writing oc stuff. i have years of that if y’all want more writing. just a little burnt out on x reader fanfic i think

#updates

[primasveraas-writing]

two thousand (and one)

I don't technically go here but I did get brainrot thinking about what it would be like to mourn a child for 5 years and suddenly get them back, so have this. Please excuse any characterization or timeline errors- again, the only DC content I’ve consumed is the Wonder Woman movie and Wayne Family adventures.

Written as a letter from Bruce to Jason, post Under the Red Hood.

WORD COUNT: 575

XXX

The day I buried you, I realized that I lost a part of myself that would never come back. I was still a father- but I kissed the cold flesh of my son’s forehead and put him in the ground. There’s no going back from that. Every steady constant of my life was shadowed by that loss from then on.

My time after losing you was defined by grief but not encompassed by it. There were beautiful light spots: Dick, Alfred- then Tim, Steph, and Cass. Even so, my world was not as bright as it should have been. The sun was always dimmer after I lost you, Jason. Part of my soul died with you.

You’re back. I’ve held you and told you how much I’ve missed you, how sorry I am. You’ve forgiven me, slept under my roof again, and our family is whole.

I wish I was, too. I wish you had come back, and the grief had stopped in its tracks, and that my every bit of sorrow disappeared. You came home- you, the one I mourned for, but you sat down next to my grief instead of taking its place. I woke up one morning, facing a day where I missed you and felt the acute pain of your loss. When the next day came, and you were here, I found that this didn’t change. I couldn’t mourn you for two thousand days and not mourn you on the two thousandth and first. Sorrow became part of me- in the way that I smiled and laughed, in the way that it tinted the world a shade darker. I am still a father who buried their child. I laid flowers on your grave for every birthday and holiday. I shuddered against the world on the anniversaries of your death, and there are still split seconds when I see wildflowers and am struck by their beauty in a way that compels me to put them on your tombstone. I still have the suit I wore to your funeral hiding in the back of my closet.

What part of you do I mourn? The fourteen-year-old boy, who died alone and in pain? That is what I regret most, the agony of your end. I got you back, but I would still change that, even just to hold your hand as you went. Do I miss the scraps of your innocence and youth, before the remnants of these things were taken from you too? Do I mourn the years you never got or the years you spent in pain? I can hear your voice now, deepened and broken, and your laugh, rare as it is. I can hug you and hold you, although you’re almost as tall as me now, and nothing feels the same. Do I miss the boy that I lost, even though I have the person he became?

I don’t know. Your loss undid me at the seams, and I have spent every second of the last five years rebuilding myself or trying not to fall apart. It is no longer so hard to keep it all together, and when I held you again for the first time, sorrow was a concept I could not fathom and the world was as bright as I’d ever seen it. You came back to me, Jason, and there are days where I still feel the stains of bereavement, but God, you are home again.

#ooooh look who posted again #rip #jason todd #bruce wayne #batman #dc universe #dc comics #dcu #red hood #under the red hood #batfam