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aria-ashryver · 5 months

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I Cannot Bear To Hold You With These Unworthy Hands

Book: Blades of Light and Shadow

Pairing: Aerin x m!human!MC (Dorian Silvertongue)

Words: 2.4K

Summary: After the night they spent together, Aerin weighs his troubled thoughts, trying to muster the strength to leave the bed, leave the tent, leave Dorian behind.

(or; Aerin writes his stupid little letter)

Ratings/Warnings: Teen - brief allusions to the fact that Aerin and MC have just slept together; brief mention that Baldur was abusive; brief mention of self-inflicted injury

A/N: A little ✨Aerin angst✨, as a treat! I haven't written for him (or Blades) before, so I'd love to know what folks think of the style and characterisation! Also, if you enjoy atmosphere (and being in pain), this piece was written to Adam Skorupa and Krzysztof Wierzynkiewicz's A Nearly Peaceful Place

@choicesficwriterscreations

Aerin was a smart man. He knew that. Prided himself on it, in fact. He’d always been quick-witted, clever, his rigorous education obvious to anyone he spoke to. There wasn’t a puzzle he’d ever come up against that he couldn’t unravel with ease.

Until Dorian.

The celebrations in Riverbend had continued well into the night; beyond the confines their tent, Aerin could still hear the light refrain of a flute, the slow, poignant swell of a fiddle, as a pair of minstrels played their longing to skies littered with stars. It wasn’t so loud that he couldn’t sleep through it; beside him, curved protectively around him, Dorian’s breath had evened out into the slow rhythm of true sleep.

Aerin felt him sigh against his skin. His body was warm with rest and the lingering heat of their lovemaking. Not for the first time, Aerin marvelled at how utterly, hopelessly stuck he was.

Not in the least because, even asleep as he was, Dorian didn’t seem as though he would deign to let him go any time soon. The man had a build borne of long years of physical labour and swordsmanship; those iron-banded arms hugged Aerin firmly against his chest, one arm looping around his waist, the other curving around his shoulders. He held him so sweetly, so securely, that it seemed that Aerin’s half-baked escape plan would fall apart at the first hurdle — namely, ever getting out of this blasted bed.

An alarmingly vocal part of him hoped that that would be the end of it.

Because that was the other thing that gave him pause. Try as he might, Aerin simply couldn’t make up his mind.

He should go.

Right?

Right. He should go.

Leaving the party, leaving Dorian —a gasp hooked in Aerin’s lungs— it was the right thing to do.

A breeze shook the walls of the tent, the burnt gold silks cracking and shuddering in the wind. How much nicer it would be, to just stay in the bed.

It was warm, inside. Next to Dorian. Everything was soft linen sheets and warm wood, the tent’s furnishings humble and plain, but comfortable. The candles burned low at the small table where they’d sat together and shared a cup of wine earlier that evening.

They’d talked for an hour or two after slipping away from Riverbend’s quaint little festival —Dorian had laughed at his own jokes, as he was wont to do, and he’d grinned at Aerin’s acerbic wit in a way that had his stomach tripping over itself— and then Dorian had kissed him like there was nothing and no one else in the world at all.

Like the answer to every question he’d ever had was as simple as that.

How easy it would be to pretend. To stay here, his head nestled on his lover’s chest, listening to the slow rise and fall of his breathing. How easy, to forget the outside world existed.

Aerin’s mouth twisted in a bitter smile. It was exactly the sort of irony he ought to have expected, he thought. All his life, he’d been trapped. Trapped by Baldur’s abuses; trapped by the minutiae of courtly decorum; trapped in a role wherein no one would ever see him as a person, merely an idea, a ghost of a farce of a mockery of what they all thought a “Prince” ought to be.

Then, when the abuses had worn him down to nothing, and he’d thought to seize some measure of independence for himself… It had been mistake after catastrophe after vainglorious disaster that had won him nothing but regret and a year-long stay in a cold cell.

Now that he finally, finally had the freedom to make decisions for himself, now that he had a chance to atone and do some good with his wretched excuse for a life, well.

How ironic that that very freedom was little but another cage.

Self-loathing was a demon that pressed him bodily into the sheets, turned the warmth around him hotter by degrees until it was suffocating.

Doing right by Dorian meant being worthy of him. And being worthy of him meant he’d have to shatter the nascent trust growing between them. He’d have to betray Dorian, again, after all the kindness he’d shown him.

They had been three days out from Riverbend when the party had set camp one night, and a whip-thin fox had darted across the edge of the clearing. It was clearly wild, its hackles raised in gnawing hunger and fear, but Dorian had simply grinned and hunkered down with a strip of dried meat in his hand.

It had taken him most of the evening, but eventually Aerin had returned from gathering kindling with Mal to find the creature eating the meat right out of his outstretched fingers. Another half-hour of gentle coaxing and it had chirruped and curled up right in Dorian’s lap.

Mal had rolled his eyes, shaking his head as if he found the whole thing laughable. Expected, even. As though he knew how little chance anything —anyone— had of resisting Dorian’s charm.

As Aerin had stroked disbelieving fingers through the creature’s flame-red pelt, he’d finally understood that the gut-deep pull he’d been feeling since their first kiss by the lake was some combination of a deep, pervasive sadness… and a potent yearning.

An unabating ache.

Teeth, and claws, and snarling wildness; none of it seemed to bother Dorian. A deep-rooted instinct to lash out in self-defence, stemming from a life of fear and pain, it was simply no match for his easy smiles and slow coaxing. Once Dorian Silvertongue set his sights on something —on someone— they were all but his. Aerin yearned for Dorian to tame him, as patiently and painlessly as he had the fox.

When they’d packed up camp the following morning, the fox was gone, but the feeling lingered.

And when they’d happened upon a particularly tricky patch of forest trail not long after they’d left the clearing, Aerin hadn’t been able to resist taking Dorian’s outstretched hand.

For a fleeting moment, Aerin let himself imagine he could stay.

That the pair of them weren’t tangled up in a mess of his own making; that the hand Dorian had held so gently wasn’t covered in blood he couldn’t wash clean.

That maybe they’d lace their fingers through one another’s to stroll along the piers of Port Parnassus, taking in the markets and the brisk night air. That they could be just a pair of travellers, unremarkable, unburdened save for the kiss of salt upon their skin as ocean mist sprayed up from the docks.

Laughter on their lips as an unexpected swell left them drenched.

Perhaps he’d get the chance to get back at Dorian for those godsawful sausages he’d had them all eat at the festival tonight — they could taste the fare from various street vendors, feed each other unfamiliar fruits and spiced wine of dubious vintage.

…He’d buy Dorian a handcrafted ring to replace the one he still wore on a chain around his neck. One that wasn’t a mark of Whitetower, of the Valleros family, but just him.

Just Aerin.

An honest gift from one beating heart to another, both of whom had known far too much pain and burden. A mark of a new beginning.

Dorian’s skin was hot beneath Aerin’s cheek; stifling a gasp, Aerin pulled back, blotting away the few errant tears that had begun to pool on his chest.

He stared long and hard at Dorian’s sleeping face. The way his hair fell in his eyes. The bruised shadows beneath them. The rasp of stubble at Dorian’s jaw that even now he could feel burning against the delicate skin of his thighs, his neck.

Dorian’s shifted slightly in his sleep, his fingers spasming on Aerin’s skin, clutching at him in a way that had a flurry of butterflies alighting in his stomach.

Frozen, Aerin caught his lip between his teeth, scared to move.

Hoping Dorian wouldn’t wake.

Praying he would.

It would be selfish of him to stay, he should go. He was a smart man; he knew he should do what needed to be done. It was the right thing to do.

Never mind that even thinking of walking away from the one good thing he’d ever had in his accursed life felt akin to shoving a knife into his own chest.

He’d done that, once.

The Nerada stone hadn’t wanted to budge, the rituals he’d undertaken to free himself of Shadow corruption were long, and laboured, and exhaustingly brutal, but he’d taken that pain as penance.

Somehow, it hurt less than the thought of Dorian waking to find that Aerin had betrayed him yet again.

Sand hurtled through the hourglass as Aerin let his looming choices fall by the wayside.

He knew he was running out of time.

But right now, all he wanted to do was memorise exactly how it felt to be held.

It was with a slow reluctance that Aerin drew his unworthy hands away from the only person he’d ever loved. Easing out of Dorian’s grasp, he slipped from the bed. Located his smallclothes in the jumbled pile of leather and linens and weaponry on the floor. Pulled those on. His trousers and boots, those too.

The heat of Dorian’s skin still warmed his palms; an echo that he knew would fade all too soon. He tugged his tunic on over his head, hopeful the clinking music of buckles and straps might rouse him from his slumber, dreading whatever excuse he’d make if it did.

Aerin knew Dorian hadn’t been sleeping well since his escape from the Ash Empire. Most nights he’d wake with a scream catching in his throat, a skittering panic in his eyes that Aerin knew well himself. More cruel then, that the fates would have him sleeping so peacefully tonight, the marks Aerin had left on his throat a brand, a traitor’s kiss, a ghost edge of a knife wound.

Aerin finished dressing.

Dorian slept.

He crossed to the nightstand, poured himself a glass of water from the decanter. Tried to swallow past the tightness in his throat.

Still, Dorian slept.

Would he think of him, Aerin wondered? Would Dorian ache for him the next time he bedded down alone?

…would he even be alone?

Aerin clamped his jaw shut against a swell of sudden nausea. He knew Dorian was open with his affections, and he’d thought he didn’t begrudge him that —what he shared with Mal was strictly physical, at least on Dorian’s part, though his blossoming relationship with Nia hadn’t survived their confrontation with the Dreadlord— but for a moment, bitter, ugly jealousy made him feel ill.

Would this second betrayal be enough to carve Aerin’s name out of his heart for good? Push him back into Nia’s arms?

Aerin swallowed.

Perhaps it was better that Dorian hate him. He didn’t deserve his kindness, much less his love. Not after everything he’d done.

Dorian was a blazing comet streaking through the night sky; Aerin the empty void he lit with his passing. He didn’t regret the night they’d shared together; far from it, he couldn’t remember ever being happier. Just this once, Aerin had longed to blaze up alongside him, lost in his fire, in his light.

Just this once, he’d wanted to cling to him as he burned.

It had been better than anything he’d ever dreamed.

Aerin set the glass down, his hands shaking around the decanter as he poured himself a second glass of water.

Of course he had to leave. How could he kid himself that he could have a place amongst the great heroes of Morella? Him — a hero? Who was he trying to fool?

Jaw clenching, Aerin took a seat at the table, drawing some papers and ink from his satchel. He laid them out with slow precision, hating himself, hating the world, hating everything he had to do.

Behind him, Dorian gasped in his sleep; it was an agonised shock of sound that cut Aerin to the quick. He leapt to his feet, crossing the tent to perch on the bedside as Dorian jolted himself awake.

‘P-please!’ Dorian gasped. ‘Don’t. Don’t!’

‘It’s alright,’ Aerin said.

One of Aerin’s hands came up to cradle Dorian’s face; the other rubbed soothing circles against his chest. Dorian’s hand flew up to clutch at his wrist.

‘Aerin?’

‘I’m here, it’s okay,’ Aerin murmured. His heart clenched painfully as Dorian’s sleep-addled gaze locked onto his and immediately grew less panicked. ‘You’re safe, Dorian. I’m right beside you.’

Almost before he’d finished speaking, Dorian’s eyes drifted closed — but not before he’d slid his hand higher to lace their fingers together where Aerin’s hand still cradled his face.

It was almost too much.

It would be so easy to sink back into that bed, sink back into a sense of belonging he didn’t deserve.

Aerin sucked a strained breath against the tightness in his lungs, gently extricating himself from Dorian’s grasp. He didn’t know if it was some ill-begotten vestige of Shadow, lingering in his chest even now, or if breathing was simply beyond him where Dorian was concerned.

Every time they met each other’s eyes, the air in Aerin’s lungs turned to pitch.

Perhaps… he could stay? Dorian’s love would alight him, and the pitch in his lungs would blaze and burn, every breath between their kisses turned golden and glowing with light and fire.

Perhaps he should leave.

Let it cool and harden. Let his lungs solidify. Let him never draw a joyous breath again.

He should leave.

He sat at the table, his pen poised above the crisp parchment. He stayed frozen in place for so long the ink dripped from the nib, pooling into a dense, black blot on the page. It soaked into the paper, the sight eerily reminiscent of tendrils of shadow bleeding into smooth, pale skin.

Aerin choked down the tears, the bile threatening to rise, and scribbled down the only useless words he could muster.

Dear Dorian,

I apologize for leaving so abruptly, especially without saying goodbye...

...what a Gods-forsaken joke.

Drying his eyes, Aerin stole one last look, not knowing if he would ever see Dorian again. He wanted to kiss him goodbye. Wanted it so desperately it burned. He wanted Dorian’s eyes to flutter open at the first touch of his lips; for his hand to snap out one more time to clutch at Aerin’s own; for him to whisper please.

Please, Aerin. Don’t go. Stay with me.

Dropping the folded parchment on the table, his fingers trembling, Aerin turned to leave, knowing he was a jester, he was a fool, he was the realm’s most miserable joke.

#blades of light and shadow #bolas 2 #aerin valleros #aerin x mc #choices fanfic #playchoices fanfic #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #cfwc lgbtqia+#🏳‍🌈🏳‍🌈🏳‍🌈

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baldwinboy5ive · 5 months

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I was going to post these screenshots and say "haha AU where the Blades gang, including Aerin, does the Morellan equivalent of the Hot Ones challenge"

but then... I wrote... a whole... stupid fic. I absolutely promise you that it is so, so stupid. Please don't read it without having acknowledged that.

Name on the Wall

Pairing: Aerin Valleros/F!MC, Blades of Light and Shadow Other characters: Tyril Starfury, Nia Ellarious, Mal Volari, Imtura Tal Kaelen, Kade of Riverbend Rating: ...T...? BOLAS says "godsdamn" is a swear haha. Word count: 3441 Summary: See above. It's total fluff. It's "HEY let's give Aerin and MC a happy ending! A VERY happy ending!"

I am tagging @lovehugsandcandy @lilyoffandoms @malthemagnifisent because they requested (or demanded haha) a tag, and @oh-so-youre-a-nerd because you said you wanted even CRUMBS of Aerin haha

Raine had once said to Cherta that her friends were her found family, and Cherta had told her that she needed to work on growing the “found” part. Well, it was finally happening. Raine couldn’t help smiling as she approached Riverbend, ready to begin a days-long celebration of her engagement to Aerin Valleros, former disgraced prince of Morella, now pardoned citizen and hero of the realm for his part in defeating the threats to their kingdom.

Tyril was first to arrive and meet Raine and Aerin, and greeted the former with a fierce embrace, and the latter with a curt nod. Kade was next to appear, and they waited for Mal and Nia’s arrival with Threep and Loola. They all planned to meet in the town square with Imtura, and drop the nespers off with an old neighbor of Raine and Kade’s, where they were to be given plenty of food and attention until tomorrow, when everyone would be in attendance of an engagement party.

Upon its arrival at the town square, Threep and Loola immediately burst forth from a carriage, fluttered their wings, and flew up to Aerin, nuzzling his face and purring.

“The entire way over here! ‘Snacks! Snacks! Snacks!’ They wouldn’t even stop when I threatened to turn the whole carriage around and go back to Whitetower!” Mal yelled, throwing his hands up in exasperation as he hopped down from the carriage.

“Because they knew you were bluffing,” said Nia, stepping out of the carriage behind him.

Tyril, ignoring their banter, looked at the affectionate display by the nespers, and then wordlessly turned towards Raine, expectantly raising a hand and waiting for an explanation.

“Oh, yeah. You know they always used to hiss at him. Especially Loola. You know. Not so happy about being locked up and all that, especially while Aerin was walking around in those dungeons. Well, she finally got to him the last time we were in Whitetower, that time you went to go see your family back home in Undermount. She clawed his face up pretty bad,” said Raine with the tiniest of smiles.

“Ever since then, Aerin’s been bribing them with treats,” finished Mal with a loud snicker. “He basically would buy out my buddy over at the pier and dump a whole bag of fish on them, and now look at those spoiled things.”

“You can still see it!” Aerin said, pointing to some faint scars on his cheek, while obligingly throwing some fish out of his pockets to the nespers.

“Yeah, he could finally pretend he was big enough to cut himself shaving!” said Mal with an obnoxiously loud laugh.

Aerin rolled his eyes. “And I have two nespers here who’d do anything I say for a few more of these anchovies, including making you look like you’d cut yourself shaving.”

“Sorry, Mal,” said Threep, who at least had the decency to look abashed. “An anchovy’s an anchovy. You understand. It’s nothing personal.”

“Hush, Threep. Mal, you know he wouldn’t, really,” said Loola.

“Wait a minute…” began Kade as realization dawned on him. “I was locked up, too. Hold on. You mean I could’ve been getting free stuff from Aerin this whole time?!”

Before anyone could answer, Imtura came striding up towards the group.

“Landrat! Princeling!” Imtura said, clapping both of them on the shoulders with a hand each. “Time to get our hot sauce on!”

“Huh?” said Aerin. “I thought all the party stuff was tomorrow.”

“It is,” replied Raine with a mischievous grin. “Today we’re doing the Saucy Folks Challenge.”

“Yes!” Nia said giddily. “I’m scared! And also excited! But mostly scared!”

Tyril nodded emphatically. “To be honest, I feel quite the same way,” he said.

“What’s… going on?” said Aerin dubiously.

“The Saucy Folks Challenge,” Raine repeated. “Ten hot sauces in order of increasingly intense spiciness. The challenge dictates that each participant eats fried pargallus wings tossed in the hot sauces, in order, while answering deep, burning - pun intended - personal questions. You can drop out anytime you like, but if you make it to Number Ten, you get your name on the wall of honor, and a bunch of free food. It’s… mostly a bunch of fried stuff.”

“And bragging rights, don’t forget the bragging rights,” added Mal.

Aerin groaned. “You mean you four knew?”

“Well, uh, yes,” Nia stammered. “She and Kade said it was a tradition. I couldn’t see the harm in it.”

Aerin turned to Raine, and asked, “Then why didn’t you just tell me that’s why we were coming here early?!”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Imtura said with a booming laugh. “You know godsdamn well you would’ve said no. That girl isn’t stupid.”

With a rueful smile, Aerin said, “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“You don’t; I think I’ll bow out, though,” Kade said.

Mal chuckled. “I’ve been eating spicy food my whole life - I thought I had a leg up on all you guys, but I didn’t think you were going to quit before we even got started!”

“Yeah…” Kade said absently, looking off into the distance at some of the stores in the town square.

Raine shook her head. “You’re wrong, Mal. Kade’s already beaten the challenge. You can see for yourself. His name’s on the wall… at the tavern.”

“Ohhh. The tavern. That’s where this challenge is hosted,” Aerin said, as understanding came over him. He and Raine had talked extensively about their families - including the sheer amount of trouble Kade was always getting himself into when he and Raine were growing up in Riverbend. “You just don’t want to face that barkeep again.”

The group - minus Kade - laughed.

“Come on, just come with us,” Imtura insisted, slinging an arm around Kade’s shoulders.

“Besides, Raine’s here, and she’ll never let him kill you,” Aerin pointed out.

“That’s true,” agreed Tyril.

---

A collective cheer came from the crowd gathered in the tavern as the group stepped inside.

“The heroes of the realm!” several people shouted. Tankards of ale were raised, and the heroes were clapped on their backs and shoulders as they made their way to the bar counter.

“Raine! Back home already? To what do we owe the pleasure?” asked the barkeep.

“That,” answered Raine, pointing to the wall behind the bar. There was a painting of a pargallus, a small domesticated bird found widely throughout Morella, raised for its feathers, eggs, and meat. It was dramatically engulfed in flames, and its eyes were crossed out with black X marks. This was the logo of the infamous Saucy Folks Challenge, so named for the Saucy Sausage that originated from Riverbend, along with the other nine hot sauces that made up the challenge.

“See? Right there,” said Kade proudly, pointing to the long list of names under the cartoon pargallus.

“All right, I concede,” said Mal, raising an eyebrow.

“Hah! The Saucy Folks Challenge! Wonderful! Any special occasion, or just because?” asked the barkeep, who was already beginning to gather some trays and baskets.

Raine glanced over at Aerin, who flushed a crimson so deep he almost resembled the burning pargallus, and she showed the barkeep the royal ring she wore on her hand. “He gave this to me when we first met. A lot’s happened since then. But now it’s official: we just got engaged.”

There were several surprised gasps from the tavern patrons, and then a second round of celebratory cheers made its way throughout the establishment.

“Well, then, I offer my congratulations!” said the barkeep. “Our little Raine, all grown up, about to get married! To a prince, no less!”

“Well, that part is currently up in the air,” corrected Aerin.

Mal smirked. “I think the term they used was ‘On Probation,’ or, alternatively, ‘We’re Watching You, Young Man.’ They may be on a three-strikes system. Or something.”

“In any case, back in the king’s good graces,” continued the barkeep, his voice becoming stern.

“Ehhh…” said Raine, teetering her palm back and forth in the air.

The barkeep’s expression turned deadly serious. “What I’m getting at is, surely this family is now prospering. I mean it, Kade. It was cute at first, but this has gone on long enough. You think it’s easy making a living here? I don’t care that you’re a hero of the realm, Kade, you’re our hometown boy first, and I expect our folk to take care of each other here in Riverbend - and that means paying your tab in full!”

Kade sat on his barstool taking this in quietly, all while a big smile spread across his face until he was positively chortling with joy.

“What’s so funny?!” demanded the barkeep.

Kade, still with the giant grin on his face, swiveled around on his stool to face his future brother-in-law.

There was an awkward pause. For a moment, no one spoke. Then Aerin relented, groaned, and said, “Fine.”

“Hooray!” exclaimed Kade, putting both hands in the air and spinning on his barstool.

“Wait, really? I’m finally getting paid?” said the barkeep with no small amount of astonishment.

“Hand over the tab,” said Aerin with a sigh. He accepted a thick stack of paper from the barkeep, and his eyes grew wider and wider as he scanned over it. “What the three hells, Kade?”

“Thanks, Aerin! I can tell we’re going to be great as brothers-in-law!” Kade said with a laugh.

“Yep.”

---

“Here it is!” Raine said brightly, approaching the table around which her friends were gathered with an enormous tray filled with fried pargallus wings, each basket of wings being labeled with a number.

“The local butcher’s family has been making these hot sauces for generations. People around here say that they just keep getting hotter and hotter every year. They partner with the tavern to host the challenge, since… well, people want a lot of ale while doing it,” Raine said with a laugh.

“All right,” she continued excitedly. “You ready? It starts with our hometown favorite, Saucy Sausage, and it only gets hotter.”

“It starts with Saucy Sausage?!” said Nia with great trepidation.

“I warned you,” replied Raine with a grin.

“So, Kade? You in or not?” Mal said, nudging Kade in the ribs.

“I was going to say I have nothing to prove - I’ve already got my name on the wall. But you know what? What the hell, my only sister’s getting married! I’m in!”

The table cheered.

“A lot of people do it for weddings, but it’s not a wedding-specific tradition,” Kade clarified as he sat down. “It’s just a thing people do in Riverbend. No special occasion needed, really. People make any old excuse to get together with friends and do the challenge.”

“Then I suppose, as we are here, celebrating an occasion, with friends, it appears we are all set to go,” concluded Tyril.

As everyone began to grab a basket for themselves and get seated, Aerin hesitated.

“Come on, you can sit next to me,” said Raine warmly.

Aerin, however, stayed where he was, and fixed his eyes on Tyril. “Did you mean that?”

“What?”

“Well…” Aerin began hesitantly. “That we’re friends?”

“Yes,” said Tyril flatly. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because… you don’t really treat me all that differently than when you all were threatening to kill me every two seconds?”

Mal, Imtura, and Nia all exchanged amused looks with one another. Then Imtura gestured towards Tyril and said, “You think he doesn’t like you? I think you offended him, Aerin.”

“Yeah, he looks confused and offended,” added Mal.

“Yeah, tell him, landrat,” Imtura goaded Raine.

Aerin felt that Tyril appeared exactly as he always did.

“Um… no he doesn’t,” Aerin said, to which everyone else but Tyril laughed.

“You keep hanging with us, princeling, and you’ll start to see it,” Mal said good-naturedly.

“Yes, that’s just how his face is, Aerin,” Nia explained patiently.

“Not you, too,” Tyril grumbled at her.

“It’s just… well, I just assumed you still hated me,” said Aerin.

“Then why would I be here right now?” Tyril asked.

“To support Raine, of course.”

“If we still hated you, we would have simply thrown a private bachelorette party for her without you.”

“Ooh, we could still do that, too, though,” said Imtura. She and Nia exchanged a look, ensuring that this was definitely happening.

“Then… you’re here for the free ale?” Aerin said helplessly.

“Former Prince Aerin,” Tyril said icily, “I assure you that if I should ever attempt to make nice with Raine’s acquaintances, even if I did not like them, it would not be for the paltry reward of free ale and a basket of assorted fritters.”

“You also get your name on the wall,” Mal interjected.

“And hey, those fritters are good!” Raine insisted.

Tyril turned away to look out of the tavern window in order to hide the mixture of amusement and annoyance on his face. When he turned back around, he was perfectly composed.

“You are, as they say, stuck with us,” insisted Tyril.

“Huh. So we’re friends,” said Aerin, a teasing grin finally appearing on his face.

Tyril Starfury let out a breath and, in his heart, cursed Raine of Riverbend for letting things come to this point. That boy really was annoying.

“The things I do for my friends,” he muttered aloud.

“So?! We starting, or what?” said Imtura.

“Yes, we’re starting!” Raine said decisively. “All right, everyone ready with Sauce One? All you have to do is finish those wings to move onto Sauce Two. Oh, and think up some really good questions, everyone!”

“Wait, hold on, landrat,” cut in Imtura. “You never told us how we win.”

“Yes, we did,” said Kade. “You get through all ten sauces in order, you answer all the questions that are asked of you, and then you win.”

Imtura’s face was a mixture of astonishment and dismay. “No, I mean, then who wins?”

Kade and Raine both looked a little confused. “Everyone who gets to Sauce Ten?” Raine said.

“Then how do you…?” Imtura trailed off.

“You beat the challenge by getting all the way to the end, that’s it,” said Kaid simply.

“So you’re saying there’s a chance that all of us could win, and no one single person is the champion?!” Imtura demanded.

Raine snorted. “I’m not so sure that all of us will win.”

Then it was Mal’s turn to scoff. “I’m the one who introduced you to Purple Parnassians, kit.”

“Mal, those things are probably a one on the scale, maybe a two.”

“Hah!” barked Mal, though Raine didn’t miss the look of apprehension that crossed his face.

Imtura narrowed her eyes at Mal. “Ooh, I’m beating you, at least.”

Aerin, who was familiar with Purple Parnassians back in Whitetower, looked even more nervous than he was before. “So I really have to do this?” he said.

“Oh, just you wait, you who mocked Saucy Sausage,” replied Raine. She then turned towards Tyril, and added, “And so did you, if I remember correctly.”

And so the challenge began.

“Oh, gods,” cried Tyril. “This is horrible.” He shot his arm out towards Imtura. “Ale. Ale.”

“Help!” wailed Mal. He cast a stricken glance over to Nia, who herself was in excruciating pain from Sauce Five, and was not capable of thinking straight. Nia grabbed a pitcher of water and threw it upon herself and Mal, leaving the two of them sputtering.

WIth tears in his eyes, Tyril straightened his shoulders and summoned up what was left of his dignity. “This isn’t working,” he declared. “Hand over the milk.”

“With the ale?!” gasped Imtura, who was fanning herself with her napkin in between gulps of her own ale.

“Not together!” growled Tyril with aggravation.

“This burns more than the Nerada Stone,” sobbed Aerin.

“I’m in too much pain right now to decide if that’s too soon or not, Aerin,” said Mal.

“Wait,” Tyril suddenly said, who was in slightly better shape for having had some milk. “I just remembered we were supposed to be asking questions.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Mal. “Okay, I’ll go first. So, comparing this to the Nerada Stone: too soon?”

“No, it was funny,” answered Tyril with grave sincerity, readying himself for another pargallus wing.

“Agree,” said Kade.

“You don’t even know funny!” shot Mal. “And this proves it!”

“Just eat your wings!” Tyril roared back, more tears welling up in his eyes.

Nia was panting hard, and dabbed at her eyes with a napkin. “Imtura, did you ever feel that you lash out at people sometimes because your mother wasn’t generous enough with her affection?”

“Whoa!” Imtura sputtered, spitting out some of her ale and coughing, in equal measures from shock and from the heat of Sauce Five.

“Priestess isn’t holding back!” Mal exclaimed.

“Well?” Tyril prodded.

“Yes! Happy?!” Imtura growled, tearing viciously into a pargallus wing.

“All right, Mal, you’re up,” said Raine. “Deepest darkest secret you’ve never told anyone else ever.”

Mal managed to bark out a weak laugh amidst his panting and gasping. “Why do I get that one?!”

“Everybody can answer that one, too,” said Raine diplomatically.

“Um… don’t have any,” said Mal.

“Boooo!” shouted the rest of the table.

“Fine! I had a crush on Raine when I first met her!”

“EVEN MORE BOOOOOO!” yelled Imtura. “We all knew that!”

“Yeah,” said Nia, sniffling through her tears. “Raine said, deepest darkest secret no one knows!”

“Very funny,” Mal said, himself sniffling through tears as well.

“Kit this, kit that,” Tyril mocked savagely. “It could not have been more painfully obvious.”

Mal turned towards Tyril with venom in his eyes. “Oh? And you?” he said accusingly.

Tyril then had a coughing fit from his efforts to make it through Sauce Seven. When he recovered, he said, “Everyone liked Raine. That is no real secret.”

“Is no one going to ask Tyril about the existential crisis he had when we went to Zaradun?” challenged Mal.

“Just eat your wings!!!” shouted Tyril with more emotion than he’d shown all day.

“Ice, elf boy, please,” huffed Mal, pushing a glass of water towards Tyril.

Tyril obliged, using his magic to drop some ice cubes into Mal’s water. “Only because you said ‘please,’” he said grimly.

Ignoring this, Nia asked, “Raine, did you ever have romantic feelings for anyone else in your adventuring party?”

Raine, who was soldiering through Sauce Nine, but visibly struggling, eventually gained enough composure to answer. “Maybe. I might have. If Aerin hadn’t come along when he did.”

“Who?”

“Yes, who?!”

“Tell us!”

“Oh, I don’t know! You guys know I flirted with everyone back then!”

“Who could forget the bug monster…” Mal said darkly, as he wiped his brow and downed some more ale.

“Done!” Raine suddenly shouted, throwing a bone down into the basket in front of her, and raising her tankard of ale. “Sauce Ten!”

The tavern patrons all cheered and whooped, and thumped the tables. “Raine! Raine!” some chanted.

“All right, I am not getting left behind,” said Imtura with renewed determination. She clenched her jaw, and then tore through Sauces Eight and Nine. The others followed suit, amidst sobs and yells, and dramatic gulps of their ale. Sauce Ten was now in everyone’s sights.

“We’re gonna add a whole bunch more names to that wall tonight!” shouted Kade. “I get a special mark for doing it twice!”

“Keep fighting!” growled Nia.

“We can do this!” added Imtura.

“Put mine up there!” screamed Mal, his face bright red and shiny with perspiration and tears. “Done!”

“Done!”

“DONE!”

“Sauce Ten, done!”

Raine turned towards her fiance, and gave him a triumphant smile before leaning in and kissing him.

“Feels like fire,” he said with a big grin. Raine couldn’t tell if his face was red from the kiss, or - well, frankly, it was probably mostly from the challenge.

Aerin looked around at the people surrounding him - sweating, coughing, wiping away tears, gulping down milk and ale - and even through the sheer pain he was feeling in his whole face from going through this ordeal, he realized he didn’t want to be anywhere else, doing anything else, with any other folks.

His family wasn’t the one into which he was born. His family was the one that took him in, forgave him for the things that he’d done, and relentlessly teased him every chance they got.

He gritted his teeth with determination. They were his new family. Therefore, his name godsdamned well better be joining theirs up on that wall.

“Done! SAUCE TEN!” he shouted, and it brought the house down.

The tavern erupted with a deafening cheer.

There was no better way for Raine and Aerin to start their celebrations and new life together.

#aerin valleros #aerin x mc #blades of light and shadow #my fic

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mvjerbs · 9 months

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@goldenheart-supremacy, I read the fic and now my brain is slowly being consumed by the Aerin x Todd ship. Feeling torn because my desperate mind wants to ship todd with someone and it ended up being Diego (idk I just think their dynamic would be hilarious and great).

ANYWAYS here's a small fan art of Aerin Shieldstone!

I learned too late that he actually has a pony tail sooo whoopsies.

Also small bonus:

Connor Silverlock may have done an uh oh.

#nimona 2023 #Aerin Shieldstone #Connor Silverlock #ocs #READ THE FIC ITS SILLY #connor silverlock is only mentioned here

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outofangband · 6 months

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(Just some more free form Maedhros post Angband thoughts as I work on revising my more detailed trauma posts! As always more can be found in the post Angband tag

Note: I now have a specific tag for the status and conditions of former prisoners in Beleriand in addition to my post Angband tag. It’s “but ever the Noldor feared”. There’s obviously overlap between this and my post Angband tags because the ways trauma manifests and how it’s understood or misunderstood contributes to the dynamics but I wanted to have a specific tag for it!

Semi related post

Written in part for @nelyoslegalteam for always being so kind about my Maedhros content

but the shadow of his pain was on his heart

This is one of the only lines we receive with regards to Maedhros’s ordeal in Angband. Despite how brief it is I find it so poignant and evocative.

Beleriand lies in the shadow of Angband and that shadow lives in the hearts of those who know intimately that place of horror

A shadow darkens, it envelops, it obscures, and it does everything. Maedhros’s pain, the fear and grief and anger and shame that now live within him, can at times seem to eclipse all that he does and is.

Maedhros’s memories are glass and he cannot hold them without bringing blood, sharp and fragile as though contained something that would shatter around his thoughts and feelings when they came close to the surface. Often pieces would dig in so one word spoken, one finger upon his neck, one whiff of the suffocating smell of blood and heat and iron would embed itself in him until he wanted nothing more than oblivion. The throne room floor, the chains around his limbs and his neck. The voice of the Moringotto.

It could take him as suddenly as the sun obscured, the weight of his body as the ghost of his chains choked him.

And to others. The shadow of his pain is in his heart and upon his bearing; even years after there is pain in his steps on certain days, if you know how to see it.

(just a side note: the description of Tulkas's feelings seeing Melkor in Morgoth's Ring, how it "clouded his mirth" is genuinely such a good description of trauma even if it was intended that way)

The scrutiny that former thralls are subjected to becomes another shadow over him, one that he is perpetually aware of. Even when he has done nothing to cause any to doubt his loyalty, even when he pushes himself to the brink of collapse to fight and plan against the enemy, there are those who will never trust one who has returned from the pits of hell, who hold that he still lives against him or believe he simply wears the face of one of the Eldar

And for all that he is still fundamentally Maedhros, there are those who will see only the ways he has changed from the memories or stories of him that came before

The ways that one survives in Angband do not fade once one is no longer physically confined there. Angband seeks to strip away everything that one is and the fight to reclaim it is vicious, agonizing, and unsightly. The shame that weighs upon survivors is melded with the mistrust and hostility with which they are viewed with by others.

Survivors are known to steal (because nothing can be theirs and they do not trust that they will be given anything without a terrible price), to lie (because they have been forced to choke down the truth when it might lead to further pain, and so much leads to pain), they are known to attack even their own kin (because they are so very afraid).

Maedhros is not like this. He does not lie (not that might be detected) or steal and if he does not any longer attack others out of the fear they might not see

And his status, both before and after his imprisonment absolutely ease this particular burden. He might be among kinslaying nobles but they are nobles nonetheless and the mistrust and even hostility that is felt towards him, specifically regarding his captivity, is certainly mitigated by this. But it still reaches him.

His kinship to others who have been in the Hells of iron is a precarious thing. He can use it to his advantage at times and it can be used against him.

And as another shadow, post Angband there is always the ever present fear of imprisonment again. It ranges from a creeping dread to a visceral, desperate panic that can override all strategy and reason. Especially after some years of recovering and of recovering himself, there is the profound resolve that he cannot return to what he was there and that any violence or death, including and at times perhaps especially his own, is preferable to imprisonment and powerlessness to the extent that he suffered in Angband.

He will not go back to that again even if it means becoming unrecognizable in new ways.

#the silmarillion #maedhros #musing and meta #post Angband #in the Iron hell #yes I used the phrase sharp and fragile on that one Aerin fic but the context is different #so leave me alone #but ever the Noldor feared

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lilyoffandoms · 3 months

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Share your Top 10 Favorite Fanworks You've Created for international fanwork day choices version hosted by @choicesfandomappreciation. I’m gonna cheat because I never was one for following to the letter hehe (as of today and in no particular order):

Top 10 Fics:

Twelfth Day of Christmas - Blades

Origami - Blades

The Greatest Gift (and Sic Semper Tyrannis), ACOR

Traditions (and Traditions II), Blades

One Bed, Blades

WtD Drabble

CoP Drabble

CoP Noir

Time & Again, Blades

And one that I’m not willing to admit to writing haha, Blades

Top 10 Arts:

Aerin x MC

Sebastyan Thorne Case File

Lilah Rose

Gabriel Rose

Kit x Jules

Daenarya x Maiele

Troy x Eva

Trystan x Gabriel

Dorian x Aerin

Mal x Daenarya

#for someone that didn’t romance aerin and didn’t get the hype in book two i sure do enjoy drawing his stupid face lol #also the fics were hard to come up with ten i actually liked #ChoicesFanworksDay

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choicesficwriterscreations · 5 months

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Blades F/AotW - Nov 12-28, 2023

✒️= Fanfic | 📱= Text Fics/Edits | 🎨= Fanart Ⓜ️ = Mature Content 18+ | 🔥 = Explicit/NSFW 18+ 🏳️‍🌈 = LGBTQIA

Aerin Valleros

Aerin Valleros x F!Human!MC 🎨 by @artbyalz

Aerin Valleros x M!Elf!MC ✒️Ⓜ️🏳️‍🌈 by @malthemagnifisent

Aerin Valleros x M!Elf!MC Fanfic ✒️🏳️‍🌈 by @malthemagnifisent

Aerin Valleros x F!Human!MC🎨 by @erixafleur

Bound ✒️Ⓜ️🔥| Aerin Valleros x F!MC - @lovehugsandcandy

Raine's Vision 🎨🏳️‍🌈| Aerin Valleros - @oh-so-youre-a-nerd

Tyril Starfury x F!Human!MC🎨by @artbyalz

Tyril Starfury, Aerin Valleos x F!MC 🎨 by @baldwinboy5ive

Blades MC

Blades F!Orc!MC 🎨 by @myautumnrose

Blades M!Elf!MC 🎨🏳️‍🌈by @unluckyamulet

Mal Volari

Mal Volari 🎨 by @bayleedraws-sometimesx

Nia Ellarious

Nia Ellarious Fanart 🎨 by @oh-so-youre-a-nerd

Tyril Starfury

An Even Sweeter Treat 🎨| Tyril Starfury x Human!MC by @megas-choices

Binding Light ✒️| Tyril Starfury - @aallotarenunelma

Tyril Starfury x F!Human!MC🎨by @artbyalz

Tyril Starfury, Aerin Valleos x F!MC 🎨 by @baldwinboy5ive

Worthy It ✒️| Tyril Starfury x F!human!MC - @agattthaa

Open Heart F/AotW ListCFWC Main F/AotW List

#blades of light and shadow #choices fanfic #choices fanart #aerin valleros #mal volari #nia ellarious #tyril starfury #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #cfwc art of the week #playchoices #choices stories you play

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gwaedhannen · 5 months

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Ten first lines

Did I get tagged? No. Do I care? No. Also not gonna tag anyone because pretty much every author I follow has already posted at least one set of these.

Most of these are from WIPs, since I only have four published works so far (two of which are just one part of future larger works).

Kill the flame

Once per year, on the night of a holiday only she still celebrates, Galadriel lights fourteen candles.

The Myth Hanging Heavy Over You

"Do you remember...?"

Shall we look at the moon, my little loon?

Hitheth brings her own wedding dress from the closet, buried deep beneath two decades of Aerin’s outworn clothes, too precious to be repurposed when thread was plentiful.

Excerpts from Sorrow Beyond Words: Collected Testimony of the War of Wrath, 3rd Edition, ed. Elrond Peredhel. Kortirion Public Library, copy received SA 2449

“The worst thing I saw during the War?

Unwritten

Dior Eluchil, son of a Fairy Tale, arrives in the Halls of Mandos and simply walks out through the ceiling.

May you rise to find the sun

Celebrían's first steps into the foam of Tol Eressëa are halting and unsteady, for she still cannot bear to be touched.

Lament for Sirion

It was seven in the morning on a perfectly sunny day in paradise when Elwing opened the front door of her tower and found a nightmare kneeling in the sand.

Rest in my arms, sleep in my bed

Elves are so weird about their hair, Pippin had decided in Rivendell.

My adaneth girlfriend could beat up your adaneth girlfriend

The solitary spirit once known as Ambaráto Aikanáro Arafinwion Eärwenion was sulking.

A Million Dead and I?

High King Arafinwë of the Noldor returned in triumph to Valinor, with his enemy humbled and cast into nonexistence, with scattered handfuls of the haggard and homeless elves of Beleriand-that-was looking for new homes in the West, with none of the family he thought to save.

#silmarillion #the silmarillion #lotr #tolkien #silm fic #ask game #galadriel #elrond peredhel #elros tar minyatur #aerin #dior #celebrian #elwing #pippin #aegnor #finarfin #stormwritten

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a-cloud-for-dreams · 4 months

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Unreleased & Incomplete #1: Novel Night

There was a knock on the door, ceasing all movement. A moment of silence fell between the two. Salem sucked in a quick breath while Mal simply smirked underneath her.

"Did you want to rendezvous with another lover, kit?" A few strands of Salem's hair slid off her bare shoulders, brushing over her face. She blushed, tinting her cheeks pink. That was all he needed to know.

"Hush! Keep your voice down," she gently slapped Mal's shoulder. He rolled his eyes. The stranger on the other side knocked again, more hesitant this time.

"Salem, are you asleep?"

Aerin.

Mal raised an eyebrow after hearing the prince's voice. She sighed, leaning downward. "I, well...I didn't think he'd actually come here!"

"Did anyone ever teach you that lying is a bad habit?" Mal teased, gripping her waist more tightly.

She scoffs. "Says you!" Salem hesitates for a moment before jumping off the bed and redressing. She threw Mal's clothes at him, who was already settling into her bed under the comforters.

"Already? But we were having so much fun!"

"Who said this would be the end?" she wraps both arms around his neck and whispers in his ear. "It won't be for too long." Mal tilted his head and smiled softly before settling back in. Salem fixed her hair before carefully opening the door to a flustered Aerin.

"Sorry for keeping you waiting," she said apologetically, closing the door behind her. "I didn't think you'd actually come."

A few black curls swept over his face. "Don't worry, I almost didn't."

She chuckled. "Did you want to show me something?" He looked away for a moment, fiddling with one of the rings on his finger.

"You haven't seen the library, have you?"

~~~

The two snuck to the other side of the castle. Aerin's warm hand gently held hers as he led the way. He glanced around the corridors occasionally to ensure they wouldn't get caught. They stopped in front of two double doors. Aerin pulled out a key and explained:

"They lock the doors to protect the books. One of the halls has a secret passageway to the royal archives and the relic room."

"If they're such secretive rooms, should you really be telling someone like me all your secrets?" Salem teased. He smiled, trying to ignore the feeling flushed under her intense gaze.

"Don't worry Salem, I trust that you won't divulge this secret."

She raised her hand to salute. "Ay, my good sir."

He opened the doors and led her inside to the grand room. The rows of bookshelves felt like they stretched out for miles. The shelves stacked up so tall they leveled with the candle-lit chandeliers that must have been hundreds of years old. The floor glowed under the light, contrasted by the harsh shadows under the marble staircases decorating the wooden shelves.

Salem stepped closer to the center of the room and gasped softly. She tucked a strand of her hair behind an ear, practically twirling around in her spot. Her thoughts failed to express themselves coherently.

"It's...beautiful." Kade would have loved it here.

"Yes, I think so too," he said, looking directly at her. His heart skipped a beat, and he stepped closer to face her. Salem smiled and took off towards the alchemy section. He went to follow her, getting lost in thought.

Maybe the Dreadlord was wrong. Maybe he wasn't the unlovable pitiful prince he thought he was. Aerin stopped next to the shelf she was focused on. Her fingers lingered on the spine of every book, her gaze inquisitive. He tilted his head, simply wanting to be in her presence.

Maybe, just maybe, he could be someone. The man he always wanted to be.

Tagging: @malthemagnifisent solely because I think you mentioned at one point you were interested in my other Aerin fics(?) This isn't a full fic or anything but I thought it still counts lol

#i haven't checked the poll yet but i have a feeling it's between the Haelyn fic and the Aerin fic so here's one of my Aerin x MC drafts!#this is crazy since this is from a year ago 😭 i barely remember writing it. if it seems disoriented it's cuz it was written out of order #playchoices #aerlem 🌑#aerin valleros #salem nightingale oc #aerin x mc #blades of light and shadow #mal volari #mal volari x mc #voltingale 🏹#choices fic writers creations

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baldwinboy5ive · 5 months

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wrote a very very stupid Aerin x MC fic, and then I wrote another one, and then I went like this, and here it is. These fics have nothing to do with each other and aren't connected.

The Right Path

Pairing: Aerin Valleros/F!MC, Blades of Light and Shadow Rating: T Word count: 1637 Summary: Aerin and Raine just having some thoughts about how Aerin's awful life got them to where they are now. Or something.

I am tagging @lovehugsandcandy @lilyoffandoms @malthemagnifisent because they requested (or demanded haha) a tag, and @oh-so-youre-a-nerd because you said you wanted even CRUMBS of Aerin haha

“Raine?!”

It was an utterly foolish thing for him to call out: she wasn’t here. He had left her behind.

But it didn’t really matter what one calls out in the middle of the woods in pitch black darkness, all alone, just so long as something is said to startle away whatever creatures of the forest were out there, shifting and rustling in the bushes, ready to attack.

Aerin slowly let the tension drain from his body, and as the seconds ticked by, it became apparent that whatever was lurking in these woods had likely run off.

He slumped down, and sank to his knees, down there on the forest floor, and told himself for the hundredth time that he was making the right choice.

He had to be - because the alternative was letting her down. And it was the thought of her that kept him going. Raine was what got him standing, moving, and pushing through.

He hadn’t stopped thinking of it, their one night together. How much she meant to him. How she made him feel like he meant so much to her. How they’d finally come together that night in his tent at the festival, the way she looked at him as she moved underneath him, with their fingers intertwining and mingling, different but same, like the letters of their own two names.

Even now, he couldn’t believe that she had wanted it to happen. That she seemed to look at him without seeing the misery, the corruption, the weakness he’d shown in succumbing to the Dreadlord. It was like he was someone brand new when he was with her.

Because before her, there had been a rottenness inside of him that he wasn’t sure had ever died.

It reminded him of the time he had wandered through the forest by the castle when he was a younger boy, trying to gather the herbs he’d read about in the library. He was intrigued by healing herbs - not that he truly needed any in the palace, in which so many medicines were available, but he wanted to prove to himself that he could identify them, and put to practical use the knowledge he’d gained from his books. Not long after gathering several bunches of herbs, his foot had fallen straight through an old, decaying log. It broke apart to reveal a mass of grubs inside, all squirming to get away from the open air, writhing like mad to crawl back into the rottenness and decay of the log and ground underneath, writhing as though in pain, to escape and hide away from the goodness and light of the world.

That was who he had been before her.

---

His words echoed in Raine’s head as she lay in her tent. She could hear the soft sounds of her fellow travelers sleeping in their tents all around her, and knew she should be resting for tomorrow’s journey, but her aching heart kept her awake.

She remembered it so clearly: the moment everything changed, and Aerin revealed himself a traitor and a liar - sweet, pitiable Aerin, who she’d spent so many quiet moments daydreaming about as she and her friends hiked and trekked to Undermount, and navigated the city and its intense political theatrics. Quiet moments of solitude she’d steal for herself to wonder if she would ever see him again, if their mission would allow them the time to seek him out when they traveled to Whitetower for the final Onyx Shard.

And see him she did. She saw a bitter, vengeful man, who said of the way he had spread the Dreadlord’s corruption throughout the realm, “Guilty as charged. Easy enough to justify it as accompanying my brother on his stupid trips. A mayor here, a scholar there… Why, in just a few years, I’ve recruited dozens!”

That was what he had been doing when she met him.

If not for Aerin falling to the Dreadlord’s temptations, would Raine never have met him? Would they never have crossed paths, that morning in the Deadwood?

Perhaps the Dreadlord would have slithered into the mind of some other pitiful, lost soul. Someone she never would have fallen for.

If Aerin had never suffered the life that he did, maybe he never would have had any reason to pledge himself to the Dreadlord. He was royalty, after all. He lived a life of comfort and riches, and never worried whether his next meal would be coming or not.

But none of that mattered when Aerin hated the life he had in the palace at Whitetower. He should have been happy there. He should have been treated like the royalty that he was. He was supposed to have been enjoying all of the comforts of palace life, doted on and adored by others, cared for, and beloved.

He had never enjoyed the kind of life that was envied by those who grew up like Raine, or her fellow adventurer Mal, or any number of the others who lived in the slums of Whitetower.

It was a life that he was denied. A life he should have had, and would have had, if not for the brother that made Aerin’s life a living hell. Through a lifetime of bullying, abuse, and belittling, Baldur effectively drove Aerin to a place of isolation, and stole from him a chance at happiness.

Maybe if things had been different, if Aerin’s neglectful father had been better, or if Baldur had been somehow forced to fix his heart, or if there’d never even been a Baldur at all, then Aerin could have had that beautiful and happy life.

And then he never would have left his idyllic royal life, and never would have met Raine.

Would she be brave enough to give him that if she could?

And even if she were, would she be selfless enough to give him that life that was stolen from him?

Raine thought of her adoptive father, the old farmer who raised her and Kade. She loved him. But there were times - those quiet, alone times - where she’d cry to herself because the reason she had him in her life at all was because so much had been taken away.

Her parents. Her brother’s freedom, stolen for so long. Her own life - an entire year’s worth in the Light Realm - taken by the Ash Empire.

Would she really give up Aerin, too?

That ache in her heart grew stronger.

Raine shook her head to clear her mind, and sat up. It was a silly thing to ponder, anyway. There was no point in asking these questions. Mastery over time itself was not something about which any of the magic users around her had ever spoken. But how implausible was it, really? There were so many people who thought they had all the answers, so many who thought they understood magic, when in fact they were looking at only a piece of the whole puzzle. There was so much she and others still didn’t know.

She thought about the way that Nia so often spoke of how calming it could be to work with her Light magic. Maybe Raine needed a little of that right now.

Raine conjured an Orb of Light, and, for the first time since discovering her magical abilities, felt something unusual bubble up inside of her alongside the Light. It wanted to join the Orb of Light. She couldn’t explain it, but she could feel it. Something in her wanted to be with that Light. She could feel the power of it.

So, she let it out. There was no doubt that what she was now releasing from her hands was Shadow - and as soon as it joined her Orb of Light, the two balls of magic disappeared from sight, but their feeling remained. A strange warmth overcame Raine’s body, and she suddenly felt just a little bit more at ease.

It didn’t, however, lessen the pain of how much she missed him.

The invisible magic she’d just created made her wonder just what else she could be capable of. She knew then that she could never let go of him. Maybe it was selfish. But everything Aerin had ever endured was what led him to her. She couldn’t lose that, and she would do everything she could to have him back in her life.

——

Aerin kept going for as long as he could until exhaustion overtook him. He finally slowed down, and put up his makeshift tent so he could rest for awhile, before continuing pushing on. He could not change what he’d done in the past. All he could do was whatever was now in his power to make it up to Raine.

He was so full of regret for how he’d hurt her.

So full of regret.

So many mistakes.

But were they truly the wrong choices?

How could they be, if that path he’d chosen back when he was miserable and broken was the one that had led him to Raine?

Didn't that make it the right path?

Knowing what he knew now, of the depth of how he felt for her, and how she felt for him, would he have chosen differently?

Wouldn’t he do it all over again the same way, even if it were just for that one night together, that one shared night on the outskirts of Riverbend? He would, wouldn’t he?

Even if it all meant that their world was at the brink of destruction, caught in the crossfire of whatever grudge or quarrel the Old Gods had with the Ash Empire?

Did that make him weak?

As he began to drift off to sleep inside his tent, he admitted to himself that he didn’t know.

…But then again, with the fate of the world at stake, and no true guarantee he’d ever see her again… wasn’t Aerin better off not knowing?

#aerin valleros #aerin x mc #blades of light and shadow #my fic #and holy shit yes I did steal a line from Mr. Miyagi hahahaha

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saibug1022 · 4 months

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WIP Whatever-Today-Is

I got tagged by @aces-and-angels to share some WIPs, so I'm gonna show off some some Blades ones, an Elementalists one, and a few It Lives ones I never finished and I'm very excited. I'm gonna tag @oh-so-youre-a-nerd because I know full well you have more wips

Blades

First up, a little Tyril Hurt/Comfort, set during Ch 8 and during that time when we were all headcanoning the experimentation and torture Valax did:

“I’m sorry,” Asterin mumbled.

“No, I am,” Tyril protested immediately. He offered his hand and visibly relaxed when Asterin immediately took it. "I didn't mean to scare you. That's the last thing I ever want."

“I know,” Asterin said. “Trust me, I know. It’s okay.”

“Stop saying it’s okay,” Tyril replied. He clutched Asterin’s hand in both of his. “Me scaring you like that is abhorrent. But I am worried about you. That’s an Amulet of Rotem isn’t it? It’s an illusion charm. I know things have changed but we’ve never hidden things from each other. I shudder to think you feel the need to hide things from me and lie to me now.”

"...you're right," Asterin confessed. He kept his voice hushed. He wasn't sure why. Maybe he thought if he could barely make out his own words they wouldn't be real. "It's an illusion charm. I got it from Nia, but she doesn't know what it's for. It makes me look how I did before Valax."

"Do you look different now?" Tyril asked, matching Asterin's tone. Asterin nodded. "How?"

Asterin tried to answer but the words were so quiet not even their shared elven senses could pick it up. He wasn't even convinced he said anything at all. How could he say something out loud? How could he think about it long enough to give voice to his pain? Tears pricked the corners of his eyes as his frustration grew until finally he squeezed his eyes shut and took the amulet off.

There was no flash of light like he was used to with magic but he surmised from Tyril's sharp intake of breath that everything was now on display. He didn’t even need to look. He’d spent enough time staring at the scars in horror before making the request of Nia upon finding her again.

The most subtle were the pinpricks dotted all over his wrists and neck. They could almost be mistaken for freckles. Sometimes he could even pretend that’s all they were. But those were the simple ones. Also scarring his wrists were jagged cuts, lined up one after the other, and on his palms as well. With the charm off Tyril would also be able to see the way his hands shook now, a tremor he still couldn’t explain nor remedy. He assumed it had to do with the damage to his hands and wrists. A harsh claw mark was emblazoned across his face, a hair’s breadth away from his eye.

But worst of all were the last two. On his chest were three precise lines, two that started near his soldiers and went inwards until they met and went straight down in a “Y” shape. And on his back were the burns. At least, he thought they were burns. He had no way of knowing for sure.

Next we've got one that has the working title of Aerin Retrieval, which I think says everything on its own

“Aerin.”

Aerin nearly jumped out of his skin. He turned around quickly, both because of the sudden voice and the person it belonged to. Sure enough a familiar elf was leaning against a nearby tree. Aerin had always thought the phrase ‘glaring daggers’ was ridiculous but it fit the expression he was receiving now.

“Tyril,” Aerin said slowly. “You found me.”

“It wasn’t difficult,” Tyril scoffed. “For a spy you are dreadful at covering your tracks.”

“I wasn’t a spy,” Aerin muttered petulantly.

“What would you call your betrayals then?”

“Why are you here Tyril?” Aerin sighed. “Drag me back to my cell? Kill me?”

“Oh I’m going to do much worse than that,” Tyril said.

He slowly advanced toward Aerin and despite everything Aerin had faced he still backed away from the elf. But Tyril had the longer stride so before Aerin could get far enough Tyril was right in front of him. He reached forward and Aerin tensed up.

“OW!”

Tyril completely ignored his complaint and continued dragging Aerin back the way Tyril had come. By. His. Ear. Aerin was forced to just stumble along after him.

-.-.-.-.-

“Where did you go?” Asterin wondered.

“I found this,” Tyril explained, and dragged a struggling form out of the shadows by their hood.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Mal chuckled.

“Aerin?” Asterin said as he got to his feet. Aerin didn’t meet Asterin’s eye, instead focusing very intently on brushing himself off. “Aerin!”

Aerin finally sighed and looked up. “Hello Asterin.”

“So it is you,” Asterin replied.

“Yes it is,” Aerin mumbled. “I’m sorry?”

Asterin didn’t say a thing. Instead he walked right up to Aerin and punched him in the face hard enough to send the prince sprawling into the dirt.

“Asterin!” Nia scolded.

“Don’t stop him, this is great,” Imtura laughed.

“I deserved that,” Aerin admitted.

“You deserve SO much worse,” Asterin growled.

Elementalists

This is a scene from my own personal lore, where Apollo (going by Eli at this point) finds out his foster parents erased his memories. It'll eventually be Griffin x MC but I didn't get far enough XD

“We’re so sorry this is how you found out…”

Eli could barely breathe. Tears burned his eyes as the words written on that letter played on repeat in his mind, completely drowning out Professor Athantis’ lecture.

Everything Atlas said was true. Eli had managed to swallow down the idea that he had a secret twin brother and his parents weren’t his real parents. He’d gotten past that. But that wasn’t all they lied about. They’d erased his memories. He didn’t get sent away until he was six. They erased six years of memories of his real parents and his twin. They let Eli go through his life lost and aimless, knowing those memories about his twin and magic would fill that missing piece. He was walking around with a void in his chest his parents own parents caused. No. Not his parents. His foster parents. Eli wasn’t even his name.

“Mr. Pierce!”

Eli looked up and saw the entire class and Professor Athantis looking right at him with varying degrees of concern, confusion, and irritation.

“You’re blinding the class,” Professor Athantis explained, their tone urgent but gentle. Eli blinked and glanced to the sconces along the wall lit with magical light and realized yes, the small orbs were much larger and brighter than normal. Eli cursed and took a deep breath, forcing the lights to dim back to their normal levels.

“Sorry, mx,” Eli muttered.

“Are you okay?” Shreya asked him. “I’ve been trying to talk to you for half the class.”

Eli opened his mouth to tell her but then paused when he realized he couldn’t. He couldn’t tell her what was going on without mentioning Atlas. Not only was this eating him up inside but he couldn’t even tell anyone about it! Atlas didn’t even know how to deal with his own emotions, much less Eli’s. Professor Swan would panic and defend his foster parents. And no one else could know about Atlas or his parents.

“I’m fine,” Eli ended up saying.

It Lives Anthology

A cute little idea I had of the Eclipse giving Shadow!Val some level of coherency and form again :)

“What do you want?” Lucas asked sharply, not bothering with any sort of pleasantries. “Why are you the one calling me instead of Connor or Ava?”

“Because it isn’t about the monsters and shit,” Noah answered. “It’s about Val.”

Lucas stood up so fast his chair fell backwards, causing his poor roommate, James, to startle. Lucas didn’t pay them any mind though, hurrying out of his dorm and the building as fast as he could, pausing behind the building where he wouldn’t be overheard. Noah would occasionally send him pictures or little messages from Val when Val asked him too but that was all. If Noah was calling him about Val then something happened, something bad. Lucas’s veins felt like they were filled with ice.

“What happened?” Lucas demanded. There were so many things it could be, spinning through his mind. Val disappeared, somehow he got hurt, he forgot them, or worst of all he’d somehow gotten corrupted and turned from their sweet little playful ghost into a monster like Redfield or Jane.

“Relax dude, it’s nothing bad,” Noah replied.

“Forgive me if I don’t believe you,” Lucas snapped.

“Okay I deserve that,” Noah muttered and Lucas resisted the urge to verbalize his agreement. “I called instead of texting because I figured you’d want to see this and you only have tonight.”

“What is it?”

“You know how tonight’s that lunar eclipse?” Noah asked.

“Yes, it’s the only total lunar eclipse over Westchester in a hundred years,” Lucas replied. “I don’t think you’re calling about astronomy.”

“No, I’m calling because of what it means for the Power,” Noah confirmed. “Or magic. Or theyre the same thing, I don’t fucking know. Point is, Ava called and said the lunar eclipse is a time of clarity for spirits, when their humanity and shit becomes stronger. She called to tell Karter because of the shit going on with his sister and she said it only applied to human spirits so we didn’t think it applied to Val but…”

“He’s coherent?” Lucas’s eyes widened.

“As coherent as he can be,” Noah answered. “He’s still a little jumbled but he’s talking in full sentences and…and he’s singing again.”

This is a hypothetical scenario I came up with during ILW's release where the only way to close the breach would be for all people with Power in them to be gone too, meaning all three It Lives MCs

It was supposed to be over.

Matthias was defeated, Adrian and Marianthe were dead. The witches were free. The blood moon ritual was stopped and the horrors were cured. The Power was purified. It was all over. It was supposed to be over. They were supposed to get to go home, to live. Yet Castor found themself staring at the spirit of Loha, her words taking up all their thoughts.

“No,” Val shook his head, his voice shaking but Cas couldn’t tell if it was rage or fear. “No, no, I’m not-, no. You’re lying or you’re wrong.”

“I’m afraid not,” Loha seemed to have a bit of sympathy in her face as she looked at Val. “The breach has to be closed or this will happen again. There will be nothing and no one to stop it, not even a purifying anchor.”

“This is sick,” Leon snarled. Him and Val were the only ones in the cave with Cas, the only two that could make it far enough in. “You, you did this to me! I didn’t get a fucking choice! It’s your fault I have to do this!”

“I can’t,” Val’s hands fisted in his hair. “I can’t do this, not again, no.”

“It is what needs to happen,” Loha replied to Leon, ignoring Val but Castor came to his side and wrapped an arm around him. He didn’t even seem to notice. “The three of you are different from everyone else. Everyone has a connection to the Power, though some connections are stronger which is what gives them their powers. But you, each of you have a piece of the Power within you. As long as it’s there the Power can never truly be sealed away.”

“NO!” Val looked up, his face twisted with rage and he took a step forward that shook the entire cave. His voice wasn’t quite his, it echoed before it even reached the cave walls. Behind it was a chorus of whispers that made Castor shiver. “I’m not doing this again! I sacrificed myself once and I don’t regret but I am NOT letting it happen again and I am not letting Leon and Castor die!”

Last one, the start of Abel proposing to Castor <3

Castor was always colorful. Everything about them was so vibrant and so full of life. Being around them made the world seem brighter, from the green of life to the blue of the sky. It was in their smile and their laugh and of course in their eyes. It was absolutely beautiful, how they made the world so much more wonderful for everyone around them. For most it was their presence and their kindness and humor, but for Abel it was their love.

And among all those colors, the most Castor of them all was gold. The cyan of the Power was there, of course, in their powers and their eyes and Abel wouldn’t trade that for the world. But their soul was gold. It was bold like jewelry, it sparkled in their eyes, it glowed in their smile. It was warm like the sunlight lighting their face, turning their skin a warm brown.

Right now their eyes were closed and for once their muscles were relaxed. They breathed evenly as the golden light from the sunrise shone on their face and Abel knew if their eyes opened they’d reflect that light like stars. But he was content to watch them sleep, happy to see the softer side of his bright lover. For it was in these moments that somehow Abel loved them even more, because while Castor lit up the world of everyone else this was something only Abel got to see. The part of them that was soft and vulnerable was for him and him alone.

Castor trusted him and loved him, they took care of him and let him take care of them. It was the kind of thing he’d always wanted with someone and Castor not only made his dreams come true but surpassed them. It was why Abel wanted to spend the rest of his life with them. He always knew he wanted to but in these soft, small moments was when he felt it the strongest.

Castor let out a small yawn and shifted, causing a twist of hair to fall in front of their face. Abel carefully reached out to tuck it behind their hair and Castor leaned into his hand without even waking up. Abel knew he must look ridiculous smiling as big as he was but he didn’t care. Castor made a small hum and their eyes blinked open, brown and cyan finding him and causing a smile of their own to appear on Castor’s face.

“Hi,” They said, their voice barely above a whisper.

“Hi,” Abel replied, his voice just as quiet. “Did you sleep well?”

“Well with such a handsome man in my bed how can I not?” Castor leaned up and pressed a small kiss to Abel’s lips. It was barely a peck but it still warmed Abel from the inside out. This was what he wanted. Mornings like this where it was like the world faded away and that light of Castor’s was all his. Mornings and nights were there was no Power, no monsters, no ghosts, no classes or jobs, just Castor and Abel getting to be Castor and Abel. No more, no less.

“Can I ask you something?” Abel found himself asking. For a moment he panicked. He knew where his train of thought was going and he had an entire plan in place. But as Castor’s curious eyes met his, he thought damn the plan. He reached up and trailed his fingers along Castor’s cheek. Castor opened their mouth and Abel rolled his eyes fondly. “And do not say ‘you just did’.”

“Well, way to take all the fun out of it,” Cas pouted. “Fine, go ahead. What do you want to ask?”

Abel just smiled and rolled out of the bed leaving Castor laying there very very very confused.

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