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fandomlife-giver · 4 years

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Bedewed Maid - 1

Summary: My young master’s soul emites a heady aroma. A scent that intoxicated demons, drives them mad, impels them to battle. Music shall play, captivating all...And secrets shall be revealed.

Next time, “Bedewed Maid”

Surely I can resolve a prickly situation without Sebastian in 5 minutes, master. Otherwise, what kind of maid would I be?

Pairings: Sebastian X Demon!Reader X Claude

@wintersdoll @naniky @danabuggxd @redryderdesigns @inumorph

Word Count: 2572

Warnings: Mild language, Implications of sexual themes

“An archangel…”

Your words breathed out in disbelief. Although still in your attack position, you were caught off guard at what you had heard.

Your eyes narrowed at his carefree smile. “Why are you here? You have no reason to be mingling with demonkind.”

He sheepishly shrugged. “Well, actually, I originally came here many centuries ago to rid of the rogue angel, as I was ordered to. But then...something came up.”

He locked eyes with you. “A certain half-breed of a demon was spotted by the angel I was hunting. And at that point, my mission was changed.”

He didn’t notice when you gulped at the memory.

“See, Abigail, as cliché as this sounds, I was assigned to be a watcher over you, you know?”

When he took a step closer, you raised your hand, your pointer finger signaling him to stop at his own risk.

You licked your lips as you straightened up and lowered your hands. “Let me get this straight...you’re saying that you are supposed to be my ‘guardian angel’?”

A grin broke out on his face as he suppressed a laugh. “Oh, no. Nothing like that.” He crossed his arms behind his back. “Just a watcher. I was only allowed to ensure you stayed out of trouble and where you belonged.”

The laugh you let out made him pucker his lips. You side-eyed him and the smile you momentarily had dropped.

“You’re my warden.”

He tilted his head back and forth and raised his eyebrows, confirming what you knew. “I guess you could say that.”

You sighed and outstretched your arms in a questioning manner. “If that’s true then why were you working with my king? Why did you come to me on the boat? Why should I even believe you?”

He rolled his eyes, growing annoyed with your many questions. “Look, I’m sure you want to know a lot of things. But for now, I think we have bigger problems to deal with. Trancy.”

You jerked your head back and scoffed. “We? Did you really expect to earn my trust just by telling me the truth? What we are up against is purely an enemy of my master, no one else.”

He loudly groaned and walked up to you. “Okay, you know what? You are way too suspicious for your own good. We need to hurry up and I told you the truth because I need your help!”

As he brushed by you, you suddenly grabbed his arm. He looked back at you and his eyebrows drew together.

Your eyes suddenly felt heavy, your skin feeling as if it was on fire. You began to gag as the familiar sensation of your blood boiling came over you.

“Abigail?”

When you glanced down at where you felt it originating, you spotted a small arrow in your shin. Hurriedly, you reached down and pulled it out. When you sniffed the end, your heart dropped.

“Dead man’s blood…”

His eyes widened when you collapsed, but he still managed to catch you.

“Abigail? Abigail!”

Your vision grew blurry as you managed to make out a person behind him. Within a few seconds, he was kicked to the ground and you thought you saw a woman standing over him, placing what looked like handcuffs on him.

And then the ringing in your ears drowned out everything else, and your eyelids slowly closed to blackness.

●●●

“Abigail! Wake up!”

The moment the sound of his whispered voice hit your ears, your eyes snapped open. He sat beside you, chains around his ankles as a pair of cuffs were around his wrists. They had strange markings on them, in a language you had never seen before.

Your face was cold to the touch due to it being against a steel metal beam connecting the roof and the floor. Your entire body was still on fire but you could tell the blood wasn’t gonna keep you weakened for much longer.

He sighed when he saw your eyes met his. “Well, glad you could join us finally. Did you have a nice nap?”

You narrowed your eyes, choosing to ignore his sarcasm. “Us?”

An amused smile spread on his face as he nodded his head in your direction, his eyes landing on something behind you.

You twisted your neck to look and when you saw the image of the prisoner you had identified not too long ago, still wearing the bag over her head, you seethed through your teeth.

“Oh, how perfect. She’s here.”

But after a few seconds of looking at her, a thought crossed your mind. “Hold on, they said they were taking her to the room the device was in. If she’s here, then where is it?”

He puckered his lips and glanced around. As he did, you focused your attention on the very heavy chains keeping you in place.

You were bound differently from them, for you had a leg chain so long that it was wound all around your body, and two rings on your neck, one attached to the chain, the other to what you believe they call a "keep-friend" or "friend's foot," from which hung two irons reaching to your waist with two manacles fixed to them in which your hands were secured by a big padlock so that you could neither raise your hands to your mouth nor lower your head to your hands.

“This seems a bit excessive…”

You eyed his own restraints and scoffed. “You can’t seriously tell me those handcuffs are keeping you in place?”

He exhaled through his nose and looked back at you. “Not only do they hold me here, but they drain my super impressive archangel powers as well.”

Your nose scrunched up. “How troublesome. What is that written on them? I’m not familiar with it.”

He forced a smile as he raised his hands. “Enochian. They’re specifically designed to keep archangel’s locked tight. I had heard Trancy got a hold of them somehow and that is the only reason I’m even here. Our deal was he’d give them to me so I could add it to my collection if I handed over my instrument.”

You have a short chuckle. “Well, I guess this means your deal is off then?”

He dropped his hands as he clenched his jaw. “I guess so…”

“You’re very chatty, aren’t you?”

The two of you immediately moved your attention to the woman that had entered, wearing a revealing black gown. You tilted your head in confusion. She looked extremely familiar, but you couldn’t put your finger on it.

“My master ordered me to subdue the two of you. He wasn’t very pleased with you talking to our enemy, I’m afraid.”

Uriel rolled his eyes at her. But the more she talked, it finally clicked who she was. The maid. “That’s strange...I thought I saw you bump into me earlier...your outfit is hardly appropriate for your position.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You are certainly one to talk.”

You glanced down, remembering you were still in Lau’s ridiculous monstrosity of an outfit. “Oh. Right.”

Your head shot up at her when she turned towards the back of the room. “Hold on, you’re the only maid in this estate. If that wasn’t you earlier than who…”

Slowly, your eyes enlarged. “Oh no...Ciel!”

●●●

”Good show, you’re all exceptionally skilled.”

Sebastian mockingly smiled down at the three identical servants that had attempted to decapitate him just moments ago. They stared up at him, jaws dropped when he jumped down from the tree he had been in, and ran passed them.

Ciel, who was in Sebastian’s arms, was holding on for dear life as Sebastian charged full speed ahead toward where Claude and Alois stood not too far away. One of the servants swung a blade at his head, which he easily avoided.

As he continued to run, he stared down at Ciel. He muttered to himself as he thought back to a few weeks before when you and he escaped the Trancy manor with Ciel’s body in a briefcase.

“It was like carrying a doll...running virtually unburdened.”

Ciel’s head moved up at Sebastian, as he caught what he had said. “Did you say something?”

Sebastian only smiled and looked away from him as he ran, a hint of laughter coming through his words. “Only that it would be far, far easier to carry you if you were in some sort of container, like a trunk, I’d say.”

Ciel’s eyebrows furrowed. “Is this any time to be joking?”

His laughter ceased instantly. “My apologies, master.”

His eyes locked onto Alois and Claude, who stood with his arm out in front of his master, protecting him. Alois watched in absolute joy as Sebastian spun around in front of them, his foot kicking the bangs in front of Claude’s face before he did a backflip over them, landing on the other side and continuing to run.

Ciel noticed the smirk of triumph on Sebastian’s face as he ran. “Sebastian, we need to get the guests out of there. What Trancy said has me worried. We must hurry and get to them.”

Sebastian only chuckled at him. “I wouldn’t worry much, sir. The servants are capable enough to handle whatever is thrown at them.”

He didn’t really believe that, though. He was truly only thinking about you as he said it.

Ciel only glanced down as his grip on Sebastian’s coat tightened.

“It’s not those three that I’m worried about...we need to get both Elizabeth and Isabella out of there, they aren’t skilled enough to handle this. Their safety is the top priority.”

Sebastian glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “Isabella? She’s only a servant, master. I’m not sure that she’s worth your worry.”

Ciel nearly slapped him with his glare. “You may not understand it, but she is important. A human to you, but family to me.”

Sebastian began to slow down, his eyes narrowing at Ciel.

“If you say so, master.”

●●●

Uriel sighed as he watched you attempt to stand up, only resulting in you falling on your side for the 50th time.

“Honestly Abigail, this is getting old. You aren’t going anywhere whether you like it or not.”

You growled at him as you managed to sit up. “Well, it would be nice if you’d help out a bit. And stop calling me that damn name!”

Your sight landing on the maid as she walked over to the nun with the bag over her head. She smirked at you before removing the bag.

The moment the girl’s eyes adjusted to the poorly lit room, her eyes landed on you. She froze in an instant, her eyes growing bigger. And not even a few seconds later, she let out a blood-curdling scream and scooted her feet to back away from your direction. Only, it was muffled by the rag in her mouth.

Your eyes never left her figure, only making her more afraid as tears pricked her eyes. The maid reached over and removed the gag from her mouth, but not before giving her a slap across the face, silently warning her to not make another sound.

Her lips quivered as she never let you leave her sight. “You...you’re the monster that tried to kill me!”

Your lips pursed together, making a duck face. “Actually, I’m a demon. Kind of. I don’t even know anymore to be honest. But you don’t gotta be so loud about it.”

She pointed a finger at you, her face in pure shock. “You are...a d...demon? They exist?”

You waved your bound hand back and forth. “Unfortunately, yeah.”

Her eyes moved on Uriel, who had been intently watching your back and forth. “Then are you one as well?!”

He raised his cuffed hands, shrugging. “Angel, actually. Or archangel to be exact.”

Her eyes widened in admiration. “An archangel? Oh my...it is an honor to grace your presence, soldier of the Lord.”

He made a face of exasperation. “Yes, yes. You’re welcome. I know, I’m amazing.”

He yelped when you kicked him with your feet before shooting you a glare. You focused back on the girl.

“Oh, and I hate to break it to you, but the man that, uh, massaged you, he’s a demon too. And my mate. So keep that in mind if you ever think about him again. Cause It’ll probably be the last thing you ever think. Cause then I’ll kill you. Just warning you now.”

She loudly gasped and sat up on her knees. “He is?! So you’re saying I...I laid with a demon?!”

You rested your forehead against the metal beam again. “Well, technically, I guess. If that’s what you call massaging you, then yeah.”

She cocked her head, a deep blush coming on her cheeks. “Massage? That wasn’t like any massage I’d ever had then…”

Your eyes slowly moved to her, your head coming off the beam as you leaned in her direction. “Watch what you say. You’re lucky you got even as much as a massage before I killed you.”

She gulped, holding her hands up in defense. “I didn’t mean any ill intent, your demon-ness. It’s just that he didn’t ‘just’ massage me…”

Your back straightened up as your words spat with venom. “What are you on about, slut? Spit it out, I know you wanna say something.”

She looked at you in fear as well as curiosity. “I don’t know why you’re so into it, but…”

“He didn’t just massage me. We fornicated. He penetrated me.”

Uriel’s eyebrows shot up, a grimace coming onto his face. “Oh boy. This isn’t gonna go well.”

Her heart began to beat faster as she caught your stare. Your eyes had completely darkened over, all light draining from them.

You felt your body begin to shake uncontrollably with anger, tears pricking your eyes at what you had just heard.

Uriel looked at you, growing fearful of what you might do. “Abigail?”

Your jaw tightened as tears finally spilled over, falling down your cheek.

“He...cheated on me?”

Your nostrils flared as your eyes changed color to their terrifying blackish-blue.

“And he lied to me about it?”

Uriel sighed at the frightened face of the nun and scooted closer to you. “Hey. You need to get a hold of yourself. We have more important things to worry about.”

“Are you all done with your melodramatic moment?”

Your inhuman eyes snapped to the maid, who was still in the room, watching all of you. You immediately sat up once you noticed another person beside her, his body encased in a black bag.

Uriel noticed it as well. “Oh, great. Another hostage? Aren’t you getting a little overboard with it?”

She only smiled at him as she tossed the bag on the ground in front of you. It let out a whimper as it hit the ground.

Its head moved around a bit until a small hole broke out through the material. It thrashed around until it completely turned around and you saw a head poke out. It was a man.

The man completely ripped the bag apart and his full body emerged from it. And it made the nun’s face heat up. Because the man was naked.

At this point, your tears had dried up and your eyes returned to normal. Your eyebrows drew together in confusion.

“Pluto?”

#black butler #kuroshitsuji #demon!reader #sebastian michaelis #sebastian michaelis x reader

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serararku · 3 years

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Ensemble: The Midnight Gift

The apartment was heavy with the aroma of dinner. K’thalen had slaved away in the kitchen since the minute he returned home, flaying and carving the beast himself, as well as gathering the right vegetables in the markets down the street. Truly a daunting task, but not one without reward; he fully intended on getting a little more than a full stomach tonight.

“Let’s go over it again.” S’era called out from the couch beside the crackling fireplace. She clutched the crude map of Castrum Aeternium he had drawn from memory in her hands, and the sparkling light in her eyes put a warm smile on his face. K’thalen poured their helpings into two wooden bowls, tossed the ladle back into the pot, and made his way across the room to sit beside her. The excitement in her every move was contagious, but he couldn’t let his feelings get the better of him; after all, the last thing he wanted to do was charge to his death.

“So the plan is for your halflin’ friend to lure a herd of goobbues toward the southern gate.” K’thalen spoke, handing S’era her bowl before pointing his finger at the map in her grasp. “Piss them off right proper, aye? With luck they’ll smash the gate to pieces and force the Castrum to send out reinforcements to deal with them.”

“And while Coboharo distracts them with the rampaging beasts,” S’era calmly yet firmly corrected him. “You, R’zevi, and Pherond slip in from the southeast under the commotion, bee-line it straight to the prisoners, free them, then get the hells out as quickly and as quietly as you can. With your knowledge on the inner workings of the castrum, it should be a piece of cake.”

K’thalen snorted. “Such things rarely are, lass. What will you be doin’ again? Aside from worryin’ about your beloved boy-toy.”

“Lord Isenhart and I will be on standby.” S’era decided to ignore that last part. She began stirring her food around with her spoon, but she didn’t touch it yet- not while she was talking. “If anything should go awry, you give us the signal, and Coboharo detonates the explosives we feed the goobbues while we charge in for the attack. If you don’t know, Lord Isenhart has a bit of a history with the Garleans. With him slaughtering soldiers, they’ll surely rush in to kill him.” She paused to eye K’thalen up and down before adding, “I’m counting on you to bring S’tage back safe and sound. Once you’re out of the castrum, Coboharo should be waiting with the getaway carriage. Get S’tage aboard, then climb this cliff here and provide me with supporting fire.”

K’thalen didn’t like this plan, but he saw no other way to improve it. “Aye… just remember, lass; nothin’ ever goes accordin’ to plan. Somethin’ will go wrong- and we’ll have to be ready to adapt.” He paused to stare down at her, his smirk vanishing. “Are you ready for this, Era? People will die. There’s a good chance one of us won’t be comin’ back. Hells, there’s a good chance none of us will. Is this boy really that important to you?”

“You don’t have to help me.” She simply retorted, faster than K’thalen was prepared for. “Well… you do, but the rest of them don’t. I’m not dragging them off to their graves- and I didn’t ask any of them to help either. They all offered, knowing the risk. But if you would rather stay here with your tail between your legs, cowering under your blankets, that’s fine by me too.” S’era shrugged at him before continuing. “You said the Garleans are meeting their commanding officer on Thursday, which means nearly half of the castrum will be emptied out. We’re rushing forward with this, true, but we may not have a better chance. It has to be this Thursday.”

K’thalen’s ears flattened against his head. “Aye… it has to be this Thursday.” He repeated in defeat. There was no way he could convince her otherwise; she was as stubborn as a wild chocobo. “You’re a real pain in my ass. I don’t think I tell you that enough.”

“Am I?” S’era met his gaze with a familiar hunger in her half-open stare and devious smirk. “Stop trying to make me second-guess myself, and I’ll let you be a pain in mine.” She didn’t wait for his less-than-witty retort, instead choosing to break her lustful look away from his reddening face to taste her dinner. The instant the creamy broth touched her tongue, she felt like she died and went to bathe in the eternal sunlight of the Warden. “Gods, this is good… what’s in this?!”

“Salted boar, potatoes, onions, and peppers.” Focusing on food was the best chance he had to keep his mind off sex. “It’s a Hipparion Tribe delicacy. I can teach you how to make it one day if you like.”

S’era took another spoonful while a low purring rolled from the back of her throat. She melted in her seat, leaning to cuddle against his arm. “Thalen… thank you so much. For everything…”

“Ah, it’s nothin’, lass. It’s a pretty easy dish to make-”

“I’m serious.” S’era rolled her eyes before nudging him. “You kept a roof over my head, kept me fed, kept me clothed. Mostly.” Another playful wink in his direction. “And now you’re willing to risk your life to help me. If we make it back… when we make it back… I’ll be sure to give you a proper reward; one last dance before I return to my tribe~”

K’thalen shifted uncomfortably on the couch once he noticed she was pressing her body against him. “Gods, you’re randy tonight… if you want some action, just say so lass. All this flirtin’ is time wasted.”

“First we eat dinner.” S’era sneered. “Then we eat each other.” The orange haze from the fireplace and the satisfying warmth from her meal was putting her in the mood, that much was obvious; with victory close enough to taste, and her long exhausting journey almost at its end, she could never be happier. Too impatient to wait for him to finish his own meal, S’era began to run her hands up his thigh on her way to unbuttoning his pants. Excitement tingled between her squirming legs when he slowly set his bowl down to give her his undivided attention, and she fully intended to make good on her promise.

Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock!

“Who could that be at this hour?!” K’thalen scowled, slipping his greedy hands away from S’era’s blouse as he rose to his feet. He hobbled toward the door while partially hunched over, adjusting himself to avoid startling whoever interrupted their dinner party with his manly girth. S’era could barely hear the small conversation he was having with the stranger at the door, not that she minded; she became distracted by eyeballing a particularly large chunk of boar in K’thalen’s bowl. It was too tempting to resist and she saw no reason not to take it.

“So who was it?” She asked, right before merrily chomping down on the mouthwatering morsel. She looked over the back of the couch to see him standing over a long narrow box, holding a sealed letter. “Was it your supplier? The lalafell with the broken nose?”

“Noluno? Nah, I doubt it. I didn’t request another batch of his potions…” K’thalen scratched the back of his head before he began breaking the seal on the letter.

S’era draped her arms over the couch as she studied him curiously. “Maybe it’s a gift? For your patronage?”

“You ever met a lalafellin merchant who gave his wares for free?” He sighed, clearly puzzled. “Besides… it’s for you, apparently.”

S’era perked up at the notion of free gifts. “Oh?! Is it from Pherond? Zevi maybe?! Or… a secret admirer?” K’thalen aptly decided to ignore her giddy questions entirely. The wax seal crumbled against his thumb and he flicked his wrist to whip the letter straight. “Well?! Come on, don’t keep me waiting Thal! What is it? What is it?”

He didn’t answer. Instead he dropped to a knee and pried open a corner of the box, then froze like a statue. His tail began to swipe back and forth while his ears flattened against his head again, and before long he slowly rose back to his full height.

“K’thalen? Are you going to say something or what?!” A soft couch, a warm dinner, and now expensive gifts? She was beginning to grow hot all over. “I’m dying for your touch over here~”

“Stop.” His response was uncharacteristically curt. She couldn’t tell if he was suddenly annoyed by her voice, or if he was playing another one of his pranks. Quickly she jumped to her feet, almost skipping across the apartment to peek at the package for herself.

“What is it…?” She softly asked, startling K’thalen.

Then she smelled it under the sweet scent of cooked meat and onions. A stench so strong she almost gagged. The playful glint in her eyes and the lustful smirk on her lips had both vanished like dust in a tempest. When K’thalen turned to meet her curious gaze, her heart skipped a beat; she had never seen him so pale before.

“You…” His words snagged in his throat, his piercing yellow gaze darting back and forth between her eyes. “... you don’t want to see this, S’era.”

Her eyes grew wide as her mind raced. “Give me the letter…” She nervously whispered, holding her hand out. He was reluctant to hand it over, but he did it anyway. The letters were difficult for her to read, but some of the words she recognized from all the lessons she’s had. “He… he-ere… is… here is…”

“Here is your hero.” K’thalen weakly recited it, catching her attention again. “A ray of sunlight to warm your coldest nightmare.” He reached out to touch her shoulder, but S’era pulled away in a stumble.

“Open the box.” She commanded, letting the letter slip from her fingers.

K’thalen didn’t bat an eye. “I won’t.”

Anger flared in her eyes. When she took a step closer, he stepped between her and the package, which only made her angrier. “Get. Out. Of. My. Way.”

“You already know what’s in there…” He weakly spoke between trembling breaths. “S’era, please… don’t make this harder on yourself.” She stepped forward with a furious surge of strength and pushed him away all the same. K’thalen didn’t have enough time to regain his footing and stop her from ripping the top off the box.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

The ringing in her head deafened her from K’thalen’s worried shouting. The room spun and twisted. Her knees grew weak. The air rushed out from her lungs… and her heart dropped to the floor. “No…!” Was all she could squeeze from her breath. She stumbled a few steps before her legs faltered, and she collapsed beside the stinking box.

He was shorter than she remembered, no taller than most men. His dazzling silver hair was muddied by his own blood. His once beautiful skin had paled more than moonlight. Although his deep orange eyes were closed, she knew the life and vigor had both long disappeared. His body was frail from a year of malnourishment, almost frail like an old man’s frame from his skin stretched taut over bones. His hands were calloused and bruised from countless hours of hard manual labor in the brutal cells of the Garleans, and along his throat was a gash straight to the spine, yet the blood had long dried.

“No…” Her body went numb the longer she stared at S’tage’s corpse, but she couldn’t look away. “No…!” All that effort. All that pain. All that suffering. All for nothing. “NOOOOO!”

---

Mentions: @hadriel-ffxiv @rzevi-tia-ffxiv @conobharo-cobharo-xiv

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ramsayboltonsmuse · 4 years

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Imagine Ramsay Bolton and The Joker (Heath Ledger) fighting over you....Part 1

Summary: I’m bringing Ledger!Joker to Westeros! My two favorite villains in a smutty little two part imagine that ends in them fighting over The Reader.

You are Cersei Lannister’s oldest daughter and have been betrothed to Ramsay Bolton, a match devised by your grandfather Tywin Lannister to secure the alliance between The Boltons (who are now The Wardens of the North) and the Capital.

What happens when you throw in a chance encounter with J in the woods? Lots of violence, angst, fluff and smut that’s what!

Links to other parts: Part 2, Part 3

Ao3 link

“Kneel.” Ramsay’s voice sliced through the still air.

The Dreadfort’s great hall was empty except for you and him, the handmaiden who had been ordered to fetch you having intelligently bolted out of the room the second she deposited you.

Ramsay was seated behind the great table, shirtless, his toned and muscled build glinting in the moonlight spilling in from the large windows. You could see some blood spatter speckling across his chest. It wasn’t his blood.

As much as you truly hated Ramsay for all the vile things you’d watched him do, you couldn’t deny the fact that some part of you found him downright handsome.

He was nonchalantly turning one of his many knives over and over in his hand. He shot a glance at you and stood up when you didn’t move right away. You flinched as his chair made a scraping noise against the floor as he pushed it away.

Ramsay strode up to you so that you were only inches apart. “[Y/N], I told you to kneel. Now, get on your knees.” His eyes were a dangerous ice blue, daring you to disobey.

You squared your shoulders defiantly. “You sent a handmaid to drag me out of bed after midnight and now you’re ordering me to kneel for some offense I don’t even know I’ve committed. I’m the King’s sister, Twin Lannister’s granddaughter, not to mention your betrothed. You can’t treat me like one of your whores.”

The slap across your face shocked you, but you had no time to recover as his hand shot out to grip your neck, squeezing.

“You’re really beginning to test my patience.” Ramsay growled. “I don’t care who you used to belong to, princess. You’re mine now.” His stare bore into you. “And after the wedding, you can be sure I’ll mark you so you don’t forget.” The corners of his mouth turned up into a slight smile at that last remark.

You knew he was right. It didn’t matter who you were, not here, not in The North. Your infamous father, Robert Baratheon, was dead, and everyone with any sense knew that Tywin Lannister was running the kingdom while your fool of an older brother Joffrey was playing at being King.

But Tywin was no fool. He likely knew what Ramsay Bolton was, but he arranged this dreadful marriage anyway, his only concern formally solidifying the bond between the capital and The North, the largest kingdom. With Roose Bolton named Warden of the North, and Ramsay his successor, it was the strategic choice.

Your mother had nearly killed your grandfather when she heard of his plans to marry her oldest daughter off to The Boltons. But alas, Tywin was the real source of power, and none of them had any choice.

Ramsay squeezed your neck tighter and you began gasping for air, your hands reaching up to wrap around his forearm, trying to pull him off of you.

“You think you’re a golden haired darling little thing don’t you.” Ramsay snickered. “Let me tell you a secret sweetling.” You began clawing at his arm, desperate for air. “Once we’re married, I won’t have to worry about keeping you untarnished for the wedding.”

You started to turn pale, the color draining out of your face. “So when you misbehave, I won’t think twice. I’ll drag you into the dungeons and fasten your wrists and ankles to the cross. I’ll strip you naked and cut and flay you any way I like. I’ll fuck you until you bleed and keep you chained up for days without food or water if I want to because you’ll be my property. So you had better adjust your attitude.”

Ramsay released your neck only to grab your chin hard enough to leave a bruise, jerking your face up to his while your starved lungs desperately refilled themselves with air.

“Now kneel. I hate asking a second time.” Ramsay’s voice was laden with venom and your eyes grew wide, unable to move from the shock of what just happened.

Ramsay had certainly toyed with you in the last month since you arrived at The Dreadfort, and you had seen his handiwork on the many flayed bodies decorating the outer walls, but he had not touched you until now. Your own naivete had led you to believe he would keep his sadistic predilections to pretty young whores and unfortunate serving girls. Evidently, you were wrong.

Ramsay sighed, clearly annoyed at your inability to immediately comply with his demand. You started to panic as he walked around behind you only to roughly push you to your knees, your bare legs underneath your barely-opaque white nightgown hitting the floor hard.

“That’s better.” Ramsay circled back around to your front and crouched down in front of you. He reached out to almost tenderly caress your cheek, causing you to flinch and him to smile at your reaction. “Do you know why you’re being punished little rabbit?” You shook your head, your big green eyes staring up fearfully at him.

“No? Well.” He drew his hand away from you, a malicious smirk spreading slowly across his face. You knew if he was excited about something, it couldn’t possibly spell anything good for you.“You haven’t been the most doting bride to be darling, now have you.”

His face twisted into a mock frown. “You haven’t once come to see me in my bedchambers. It’s made me concerned for the future of our marriage.” His eyes were laughing at you, enjoying this little game of torment, knowing full well you weren’t supposed to have any intimate relations with him until after the wedding.

Your words came out in a quick rush, desperate to explain yourself lest he decide to hurt you. “I’m supposed to stay a virgin until the bedding ceremony!” Your voice came out sounding so much smaller than before. Ramsay heard it too, and smiled.

“There there [Y/N].” He mused, giving your head a pat and causing you to flinch at his touch. “It’s not your fault that the ladies of King’s Landing didn’t properly train you on your responsibilities.”

He grabbed your chin roughly, running his thumb over your bottom lip before popping it into your mouth. He tasted like the forest and something, almost metallic. “There are many things that good girls should do before the bedding ceremony. You don’t need to worry though. I’ll teach you.”

Ramsay stood up then, your gaze following him upward to where he towered above you, a sizable bulge noticeable through his pants. He began unfastening his belt and loosening his pants to reveal, well, you had never seen one before, but you could only imagine it was…

“Never seen one before sweetling? That’s rather adorable, even for you.” Ramsay grabbed one of your delicate hands and moved it toward his cock. You knew you had nothing to compare this to, but you had to admit that it looked giant. You had no idea how that was expected to fit inside you. You trembled at the thought.

Ramsay guided your hand to start stroking up and down his length. He watched your wide eyed expression greedily as you began to get the rhythm. Ramsay released your hand only to grab a bundle of your hair and pull it harshly, forcing you to look up at him.

“You can do better than that pet. Open up.” Intuitively, you knew what was expected of you, Ramsay’s stare telling you everything you needed to know. You parted your lips and began tenderly licking the tip of his cock, then flattening your tongue and drawing it from tip to base. You heard Ramsay’s breathing hitch and looked up at him, towering above you like a dark god.

“Like that Ramsay?” You asked almost shyly, blushing.

Ramsay responded by pulling your hair again, eliciting a small yelp from you.

“‘Like that Sir’. Mind your manners pet. And you’ll have to try a lot harder than that to impress me.” With that, Ramsay grabbed the back of your head and shoved it down the entirety of his length, causing you to gag and lose your breath completely. Your hands grabbed onto his legs to steady yourself as he held you in place, his cock hitting the back of your throat.

He released your head and pulled out, only to slam back into you again, tears starting to prick in the corners of your eyes. All this time and you hadn’t once thought about the chance that someone might walk in on this scene in the middle of the great hall. Then again, it was the middle of the night and you had a suspicion that Ramsay wouldn’t care if someone did. The low growl of his voice took you out of your thoughts.

“Good girl.” He praised you, and you felt an unexpected little ball of warmth inside you, causing you to shift slightly on your knees. You started bobbing your head and stroking his length in time, eager for more praise.

Ramsay didn’t let you keep control though. He thrust his hips forward, pushing himself down your throat with a tight grip on your head, securely keeping you in place. You heard his breathing hitch again as his fingers dug into your skull, your own breath taken away by the sheer size of him. With a final push, he let out a low growl and came down your throat, holding you in place until the last of the come had drained out of him. You could feel it dripping down the back of your throat as he pulled out of your mouth.

“Very good girl.” Your doe eyes smiled up at him. You couldn’t understand why, but the feeling of him violating you in this way was so arousing. Perhaps all your embroidery and dancing lessons hadn’t been enough for you in the Capital. Perhaps you had grown bored over the years, but ignored it. This though, Ramsay and his complete control over you, was new. And you wanted more of it.

Ramsay pulled you up to your feet roughly. “You look quite pretty with my cock in your mouth pet.” A small smile spread across your features. You really were a beauty, and Ramsay knew it.

He would never say it to you, but he never imagined he would marry such highborn royalty, not to mention one of the most beautiful royals in Westeros. Many lords had been vying for you, but The Boltons had ensured they won the bid. There were so many things he was going to do to you.

“I expect to see you in my chambers tomorrow evening darling. Don’t disappoint me.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Ramsay’s cock twitched at that, your voice intoxicating to him. He grabbed a bundle of your hair and pulled you into him, his lips inches from yours.

“That’s my good little girl. You’re mine now [Y/N]. Only mine.”

****

You had decided to go for a ride. It was an absolutely beautiful Summer day, and a particularly warm one, especially for The North. You felt no need to bring a guard with you as every person in this part of the country knew who you were and knew who you were betrothed to. No one would dare so much as look at you for fear of what Ramsay Bolton would do.

You were riding through the familiar forests surrounding The Dreadfort, smiling at the sounds of the birds in the trees and the shady brooks babbling away. It was hard to remember that Ramsay used these same woods to hunt women.

You had ridden for maybe an hour when you decided it would be a good time to stop and eat the small lunch you had brought with you. You dismounted Blanche, a stunningly beautiful white mare that Ramsay had given you as an engagement gift, and tied her up. You patted her neck and she whinnied sweetly at you, making you smile. It really was a lovely --

A strange noise drew your attention to a grove of trees not far off. Grabbing your knife, another, less public, gift from Ramsay, you silently approached the clearing.

It sounded like someone was dragging something heavy. As you got closer, you found a large enough tree to conceal you and peaked out from behind it to get a look at where the noise was coming from.

A tall man, very muscular with tanned skin was dragging what looked like several dead bodies into a large pile in the clearing. You took a gamble, and darted from your tree to one even closer to see better.

They were definitely dead bodies, all men, and all with various torturous wounds ranging from mutilations to stabbings to what looked like skin peeled off with a potato peeler. You had seen plenty of flayed humans thanks to Ramsay, but this wasn’t his handiwork, this was a different signature.

As the man deposited the last body on the pile, he ran his hand through his hair and turned to rummage through his things, producing a flask and taking large swigs of water. He then poured some straight over his hair and shook his head vigorously, the water droplets flying everywhere and his voice letting out an almost maniac scream that made you jump.

He was quite handsome. You watched as he pulled his light leather armor off to reveal his shirtless chest. His clothes were finely made, but in the most bizarre purple and green colors. You had never seen anyone dressed like that before.

And he had beautiful tousled blonde hair, a rarity in The North, and a tall powerful build, his clearly defined muscles visibly bulging as he ran his hand through his hair again. But what was interesting, what you couldn’t stop staring at, were the scars on his face.

You’d seen many scars since you’d come to The Dreadfort, but you had never seen any like this. The strange scars ran like an upturned smile from both corners of his mouth to his structured cheekbones. You wondered what could have done something like that.

You froze as his voice, a somehow simultaneously frightening and soothing sound, rang out.

“Say, uh, sweetheart. Why don’t you come out into the light.” Swallowing hard as adrenaline shot through you, you stepped from behind the tree and into the grove.

The man leaned back against a tree, taking in the sight of you with his dark eyes. You were wearing a simple light blue dress with a questionably low neckline, revealing your pretty young body delightfully. Your long golden hair was cascading in curls down your back and your green eyes were shyly darting away from his stare.

“Mmm. Lovely.” The man hummed, looking at you. “And why is it that such a, uh, innocent young thing is out all alone in the woods?”

You looked at the ground as you answered, not sure why he was making you so nervous. Maybe it was from fear that Ramsay would punish you later for speaking to another man, maybe for fear of the man himself. You weren’t sure.

“It’s just a nice day, I thought I’d go riding. Anyway, I’m not innocent, and it’s perfectly safe for me to go out alone. I’m Robert Baratheon’s daughter, and promised to Ramsay Bolton. No one would dare touch me. Who are you?”

The man laughed then, an almost maniac laugh as he stood, and sauntered over to you. “You’re a, uh, p-r-in-c-ess then? Is that right sweetheart?” He closed in, circling around you. For some reason you found yourself frozen in place.

Suddenly he was behind you, placing his large hands over your exposed collar bone and drumming his fingers against you. He leaned into your ear, his lips nearly brushing your exposed neck.

“My name is The Joker, but you can call me J sweetheart.” He licked his lips. “And why is a princess afraid of someone like me, hmm?” He stepped back and walked around to face you again, his forehead wrinkling in a feigned pout.

You straightened up. “I’m not afraid of you.” You hoped your voice was coming out more sure than you felt. “Anyway I don’t even know who you are. I don’t think you’re from here, and I wouldn’t have any problem demanding someone from the Bolton guard take your head.” You stood taller, feeling the confidence build. “In fact, I’d take your head myself.”

J chuckled and his eyes gleamed. “You have a little fight in you, I like that.” He leaned into you. “I’m not sure if all the, uh, princesses in Westeros are as dumb as you bunny, but having a famous name is exactly the reason NOT to go out riding alone in the big bad woods.” He drawled out the last three words in a much deeper voice, sending shivers down your spine.

“What did these men do?” You tried desperately to get control back of this conversation, but something about his way of speaking made logical thoughts difficult.

J’s eyes widened. “Do? Do?!” He laughed suddenly loudly and maniacally, his black eyes filling with some combination of mirth and insanity. “Oh bunny, they didn’t do anything. I, uh,” J leaned closer to you, as if telling you a secret. “I killed them for f-u-n- ah.”

“You’re just like Ramsay.” You blurt out.

“Ramsay?” J stepped back, turning on his heel and walking away from you over to the pile of bodies. He threw up his hands and shouted. “Ramsay, Ramsay, Ramsay, Ramsay, Ramsay-ah. You can’t walk one mile, one fucking mile in this place without hearing that name.” You watched as he lit the bodies on fire, your breath speeding up a little.

He turned back to you, closing the distance in large strides.

“I’ve been thinking, with all this talk about Ramsay Bolton, that I oughta meet the guy. See if he lives up to his, uh, reputation. Whatdya say sweetheart? Wanna be my bate? Good.” He said without skipping a beat. “I thought you might.”

“He’s going to kill you. He’ll flay you living if you even lay a hand --” J cut you off by roughly grabbing your arms and backing you into the tree behind you.

“Bunny, bunny, bunny. You really wanna play those games?” He grabbed your wrists with one hand, twisting them painfully and raising them above your head. “Look at you.” He growled. “You’re even lying to yourself. You’re not even trying to fight me.”

Shocked at this self discovery, you noted that he was right. You hadn’t even struggled against him.

“I don’t think your Lord Flay knows what he has. And if he does, he’s not using ittt. I knew from the second I saw you sweetheart that you’re an agent of chaos too. Like me.” J ever so gently nipped your ear. “You’re just, how should I put this, untapped. I can always tell the squealers from the killers, and you doll, you have a little darkness in you. Don’t let it, uh, go to waste.”

You didn’t know what to say, staring open-mouthed at this strange man who somehow had read you completely in the span of one conversation, better than you read yourself. Subconsciously, you had a feeling that Ramsay knew this about you too. But why he had let it sit dormant instead of bringing you into his dark world, you didn’t know.

“Speechless? I’m flattered.” J spun you around and yanked your arms behind your back, securely fastening them with a tight rope.

He spun you back to face him and flashed a smile at you. It was a different kind of smile than Ramsay’s, but laden with just as much danger. “It’s for show doll, don’t get too, uh, worked up.” His eyes flicked from your eyes to your body and he licked his lips, running a hand through his blonde lochs again before grabbing your waist and throwing you over his shoulder.

As he carried you into the woods, his voice came out menacingly dark.

“Time for The Joker and Ramsay Bolton to play.”

NEXT PART: Part 2

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multiverseforger · 3 years

Text

Melissa Gold was a troubled runaway from an alcoholic father and incarcerated mother. In order to survive on the streets, Melissa developed a hard edge to her personality, referring to herself as "Mimi".[3] She was eventually imprisoned, where she met Poundcakes, a female wrestler who invited her to join the Grapplers under the name Screaming Mimi, alongside Titania and Letha.[citation needed] The Grapplers became renowned for their colorful personalities and ringside antics, but the wrestling federation denied them the opportunity to make the amount of money their male counterparts made. Instead, the group agreed to earn supplementary income by performing a covert operation for the Roxxon Oil Company. Roxxon gave the Grapplers special paraphernalia to assist them in their mission; Mimi received an apparatus that converted her voice to high-frequency sonics for various effects. The Grapplers tested these powers by fighting Thundra in a wrestling ring.[4] On their mission, Thundra led them into Project Pegasus to smuggle in the Nth Projector for Roxxon. The mission failed when they were defeated by the heroes Quasar and Giant-Man.[5] The Grapplers were tried and jailed for their misdeeds. Alongside the Grapplers, she victimized Dazzler while she was in Ryker's Island prison with them.[6] When the Grapplers were finally paroled, they discovered that the women's wrestling movement had lost its momentum without them, so they continued to perform crimes to support themselves and working as professional criminals. Alongside the Grapplers, Mimi attempted to attack the Thing while he was in the hospital, and battled Captain America.[7] Later, the Grapplers set their sights on a women's division of the superpowered Unlimited Class Wrestling Federation. Their manager, Auntie Freeze, arranged for the women to augment their natural abilities with artificial powers created by the agency Power Broker, Inc. While the other Grapplers received superhuman strength, Mimi instead had her vocal enhancements internalized as a throat implant.[volume & issue needed] (It was believed that Mimi had also gained superhuman strength, however by her own account to Mach-1 it was only the other Grapplers that were augmented.[8]) The all-new Grapplers made a legitimate professional comeback that proved short-lived. When Titania was murdered by the vigilante Scourge, Mimi was among the female wrestlers of the Unlimited Class Wrestling Federation who participated in a mass attack upon the Thing, blaming him for Titania's death.[9] After Letha was later also killed by Scourge,[10] the Grapplers broke up.[volume & issue needed]

Mimi was later contacted by the criminal Baron Helmut Zemo to join his version of the Masters of Evil. Her first assignment was to help bust the female Yellowjacket out of prison, but Mimi was captured in the subsequent battle with the Wasp, Black Knight, and Paladin. She was bound and gagged and arrested.[11] Later, she formed a romantic and criminal partnership with the similarly-empowered Angar the Screamer, at one point battling the Avengers Hawkeye and Mockingbird. The pair impersonated Hawkeye and Mockingbird, but battled them and were defeated.[12] Mimi was also seen among the various female superhumans aboard Superia's cruiseship, where she battled Captain America and Paladin.[13] Angar was eventually mortally wounded by a gunshot during a robbery attempt that went sour, and died in Mimi's arms after they escaped. Mad with grief, Mimi screamed, burning out her power. Immediately afterward, she was contacted by Baron Zemo once more, and she accepted his offer to join a formative Masters of Evil. Zemo allowed Mimi to be nursed back to health, and his accomplice, the Fixer, gave her new powers via a voice-augmenting harness and high-tech implants in her neck based on technology from the villain Klaw. With her newly transformed powers, she resumed the use of her given name Melissa, and adopted the identity of Songbird as a member of the Thunderbolts, a new Masters of Evil group posing as superheroes to win the world's trust while secretly plotting world conquest under Zemo's direction.[14] However, Melissa and most of the other Thunderbolts grew to like their heroic roles. In particular, Melissa began to truly grow into her own and even began a romance with her teammate Abner Jenkins, alias MACH-1, formerly the Beetle. Ultimately, the Thunderbolts turned against Zemo, foiling his attempt at world domination and rescuing the Avengers in the process. Melissa continued to serve with the team, who operated as a team of outlaw superheroes.[volume & issue needed]

Melissa stayed with the Thunderbolts through different incarnations after this, and rose to second-in-command under Hawkeye and eventually ran the team herself. Her sonic equipment was replaced several times, both by criminal organizations and by S.H.I.E.L.D.

During the superhero "Civil War" event the Thunderbolts, including Melissa, were approached by the government to catch supervillains and rehabilitate them.[volume & issue needed]

Having turned up alive after his apparent death, Lemuel Dorcas developed an obsession for Songbird where he kidnapped her and repaired her vocal cords as he intends to make Songbird his slave. However, Songbird was able to escape from Doctor Dorcas's clutches, as with the surgery restoring her persuasive powers as well, she turned Doctor Dorcas's henchmen against him.[15]

During the "Secret Invasion" event, Songbird was attacked by a Skrull who not only had her powers, but also had the powers of Atlas and the rest of the original Thunderbolts.[16] The Thunderbolts save her by causing this Skrull to merge into a nearby building, killing him.[17]

During the "Dark Reign" event, Norman Osborn orders Melissa killed by other members of the Thunderbolts team, forcing her to go into hiding for a time.[18] She gathers allies to resist Osborn.[19]

After the "Siege" event and Osborn's subsequent downfall, Songbird has taken a position at "the Raft", as the prison's female warden. Songbird has joined the new Thunderbolts team, led by Luke Cage in large part to keep a close eye over Moonstone (whom Cage has offered a chance for freedom in exchange for her serving on the team). When Songbird objects to Moonstone's inclusion on the team due to her history of manipulation and deceit, Cage counters that Songbird herself used to be regarded the same way and that she should give Moonstone the same chances she was given by others

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orsino-the-enchanter · 4 years

Text

Dungeons and dungeons

Few things frightened Jowan more than being returned to the Circle Tower, but Amell, despite his best efforts, could not spare him the Guerrin family’s sentencing. But...Amell did what he thought was the only thing that MIGHT save Jowan’s life, despite the fact that if Jowan had to spend even one more day in the Circle Tower he would set the place ablaze.

He never even got a chance to cast a spell after he awoke from the Fade though. His life was spared on the condition that he would be returned to the chantry’s custody upon the Warden’s return to the castle. True to their word, the Templars did not run a sword through the apostate’s chest on sight, but that /did/ beg the question-just what should they do with him??

The answer was unclear even to Irving. Making him Tranquil was the most...obvious choice. But Jowan had defeated a demon in the Fade in single combat-which technically matched the accomplishment of a Harrowed Mage. That would make the Rite of Tranquility an unjust and illegal move. And Irving knew Amell well enough that if he found out his former friend was branded, Jowan would die anyway. A mercy killing by Amell’s hand was still a promise broken.

So while the good folk of the Chantry bitched and bickered over what to do with Jowan he awaited sentencing in the dungeon at Kinloch Hold, no one visited him save for the Templars who so graciously offered him stale bread. Not eating was better than giving Templars the impression he was vulnerable. Maybe Jowan would even be stubborn enough to die. Amell has claimed to care for him but at the end of the day, the man had betrayed him to the First Enchanter and THEN attempted to get him a stay of execution?

Ohhh what a cruel game the system played with weak mages. It was the only reason Jowan was locked up, probably forever. He was believed to be weak. A weak mage wouldn’t save a child’s life, now would he? He was only a smidgen bitter. At least no one was beating or torturing him like Isolde had. He’d expected more cruelty in that regard.

But what he hadn’t been expecting was his sentence to be a transfer. To Kirkwall’s Circle. The gallows. Ultimately it was his choice. The gallows or tranquility. (He guesses a Harrowed mage could be made tranquil as long as it was “voluntary.”This was such a no brainer, as soon as he was given the chance to speak Jowan had already made his choice.

“I choose the Gallows.” He said, in a voice he almost didn’t recognize as his own. There was determination in his tone. A sense of stubbornness too. He refused to let anyone know how terrifying this turn of events was for him. At least he’d never hear from Amell again, though, right?

“You are braver than you look my boy. Very well. The Templars shall arrange transport -but I must warn you, and offer you one last chance to change your mind...you will be sent to the Gallows upon the condition that you will remain in their dungeon for six months. More if they deem it necessary.”

Jowan gulped at Irving’s words. But he stood fast, forgetting the ever present Templars who held his arms despite the fact that his hands were bound in heavy chains.

“Pass me from your dungeon to theirs then. Fine. I wanted to prove to you and yours that I’m not weak or evil-I’m well on my way to doing that. Send me to the City of Chains. At least tell Amell to never contact me or visit me.”

One of the Templars sighed loudly and Greagoir nodded to his escorts.

“You will need to learn to curb your tongue there, Jowan.” Irving pinched the bridge of his nose and turned away.

“Goodbye to you too, Irving. You know, I regret a lot, but I will never feel bad telling you that you bow to the Chantry’s every whim.” With that Jowan was led away, and he didn’t struggle.

The journey through the Blighted land was long and slightly terrifying for Jowan but the Templars did a good job keeping their group safe from darkspawn at least. The wagon was harsh in its movement and the cage in the bed of the wagon held Jowan for most of the journey, but he spoke to none of the escorts. It didn’t matter, they wouldn’t listen to him and he imagined if he talked too much, even just to himself, they’d gag him. So he didn’t bother. It was several days before they reached the sea. He enjoyed breathing in a few desperate breaths of fresh sea air before they cut him, poured magebane in the wound and threw him, hands still chained tightly, into the brig.

The ship was creamy and Jowan was at least allowed better food on this journey. But he usually threw most of it up if the sea was unsettled. Once in a while, before the cut on his arm healed he would be re-doses with magebane. That stuff put a huge damper on the former apprentice’s spirits and it made him ill most of the time. By the end of the journey he was so happy to be off that ship he could sing. But the Templars would likely gag him and/or beat him for that. Spoilsports. His journey ended when the gates of the Gallows closed ominously behind him and the small army of Templars they’d sent with him dissipated into just four or five. Two Gallows Templars met them at the doors to the inner quarters.

“Do the knight commander and First Enchanter wish an audience with this new mage before he is taken to the dungeons?”Jowan’s head escort asked.

“That will not be nesessary Ser Knight. We will take him from you. This is the Ferelden apostate we were expecting, with a history of dabbling in blood magic?”

“The Redcliffe one, yes. He’s been real quiet on the trip here. Might be a good idea to keep him isolated from the other mages until you know he isn’t planning anything.” His escort replied nonchalantly.

“Quiet, eh? We can change that. Knight commander has ordered a flogging for him on arrival, regardless. We agree that a problem mage must be made an example of? Don’t we?”

He felt all eyes turn to him. He was terrified and now the Templars could probably see it in his eyes. His face went very pale.

His escort nudged him roughly. “I agree with that, but I believe that question was directed at you, lad. Answer when spoken to.”

“Sorry. Irving told me to curb my tongue.” Jowan replied with a solid frown about his normally gentle features.

The Templars laughed and then one of them kicked the back of his calves, putting him on his knees.

“You insolent little bastard. You will learn to respect those above you. Now I think that flogging is long overdue?” The Templar in charge of the Kirkwall group asked.

“Want someone to gag him, Ser Karras?” Another Kirkwall Templar asked.

“No, let the boy scream.”

Jowan was struggling against the men holding his arms now. Not begging or pleading, just scared and stubborn. He was dragged to a metal stake cemented into the ground. His hand bindings were fastened into place hmwith it and then someone unsheathed a knife.

Jowan’s heart was racing.

He didn’t handle pain well even when he’d used blood magic. His shirt was cut off and then he heard who ever held the whip give it a test crack.

Then he was blindfolded. Jowan panicked. No one knew how afraid of the dark he was except Amell ... he pulled at his restraints uselessly.

“All right. Let’s get this done.” Someone said.

“Yeah Karras, stop making it into a show. Bad enough you gotta punish the kid.” A younger female voice retorted.

“Silence. Anyone who objects to this maleficar’s treatment gets the same as him. Including you, Recruit Shannon.”

He heard a sigh after that and he reminded himself to pray recruit Shannon never became like Ser Karras. One less horrible inhumane templar in this terrible place. Why hadn’t he chosen Tranquility again? Oh yes. Not giving Templars and first enchanters what they wanted. Speaking of which-

-CRACCCK-

Jowan didn’t make a sound.

-CRACK-

He was screaming by the fourteenth lash and when it was over, or he at least thought it was over, cold water was poured on his head to revive him so Ser Karras could continue to beat him.

He made it to...twenty nine? Before he passed out again. By fourty it was over,truly this time. Then he was dragged down to the Gallows’ dungeon. He was unconcsious but fully aware that his mana was sucked away the moment he entered the hall. He whimpered in Recruit Shannon’s arms as she carried his dead weight through the hall and his mana supply weakened down to nothing.

He let out a loud cry as she placed him down on his side on the lone cot in his cell. No blanket or pillow. Just a cot. Jowan was still seeing stars under the blindfold they hadn’t bothered to take off, but he swore he heard her say “Sorry you ended up here, lad. Good luck.”

Then he was alone. He drifted in and out of consciousness for a long time before the door opened again. Maybe it had been hours. Or days. He couldn’t tell. He was feverish for sure. His wounds weren’t healing and he couldn’t tend them himself even if he was able to cast spells -he was too weak. And afraid. And his hands were still bound anyway.

_________________________________________

Way above the Gallows’ courtyard where a metal stake was casting its ominous shadow waiting for its victim to arrive, another battle was being fought.

"I have questions, Orsino.” Meredith’s expression was more grim than the sight of the stake down below and her careful choice of words did nothing to conceal her irritation; however the determined stare from across her desk would not waver. “That maleficar who is responsible for almost killing Arl Eamon is being transfered here... and noone thought to inform me of this travesty?”

The First Enchanter kept his expression neutral as he replied, "I assume you mean apprentice Jowan." Meredith nodded impatiently, gesturing for him to continue. “If noone had informed you, Knight Commander, we wouldn’t be having this discussion right now. You did receive a letter concerning today’s transfer, did you not? It is on your desk this very moment.” The envelope with Knight Commander Gregoir’s signature was indeed laying on the desk half open like a smile that seemed to mock them both.

The Knight-Commander's eyebrows drew down, a sure sign she was displeased with the answer she received. “You do not need to state the obvious. This letter, Orsino, arrived only this morning. The maleficar is supposed to arrive in any minute, and I knew nothing of this.”

“Too bad. Gregoir should have sent a raven, then.” Orsino casually replied, with a shrug that irritated Meredith even further. “Apparently he does not share your overzealotry and thought there was no hurry in informing you. I still do not see how-”

“ORSINO!” The yell that cut the elven mage’s sentence was loud enough for the templars outside the office to hear. “It was not your decision to make!”

“It was not yours either. First Enchanter Irving and Knight Commander Gregoir had their hands tied when it came to the fate of the particular mage, until Senior Enchanter Uldred made the suggestion that he should be transfered here because the Templars are more vigilant in case he dabbles in blood magic again. I just happened to send a very persuasive letter in favor of Uldred’s suggestion, nothing more. The final decision belonged to the Ferelden Circle of Magi and the Arl Eamon, the injured parties of the mage’s endeavors and they were both in agreement to send him here instead of killing him. Jowan made his choice too.”

“And how did you know of this and I did not, until an hour ago?”

“I have no obligation to disclose the nature of my informants. As for you, you never asked so I never told you.” he replied smoothly. Meredith just huffed. This was proving to be a lost case, as it seemed there was nothing she could do to prevent the arrival of this maleficar. This accursed elf’s ability of fade-walking could be his informant for all she knew, but even if her suspicions were right, there was no way to push the First Enchanter into a confession, unless torture was involved. A Maker-destined pleasure for another time. The last thing I want is to make a martyr out of him.

“I just want to know how you persuaded Gregoir to agree to this.” she eventually said without bothering to conceal her murderous intent. “It must have been via blood magic.”

“Blood magic through a letter? Your underestimation of my diplomacy skills wounds me.” Orsino faigned a shocked and hurt expression.

“My fist will wound you more if you keep this up.” Meredith warned.

“He’s going to remain in the dungeons for six months, Meredith. Six months. It will take him at least one more month before he’s able to cast again, even if your templars -he uttered the word as if it were a curse- treatment of him is amiable. Speaking of which...” The moss green eyes darkened. “What are you going to do to him?”

“Seeing that I cannot kill him or send him back? I will make him regret he was even born.”

“I expected no less from you.” Orsino commented dryly. “I was hoping for a little more specific answer, though.”

“Why, you dislike the taste of your own medicine? I’m not-” Meredith scoffed.

“You are.” Orsino cut her off solemnly. “Bringing him here was out of your hands and you have every right to resent me for it. But when it comes to punishing my people, Chantry law gives me the right to ask and you the duty to answer.”

It took Meredith a while to reply, but when she did, her eyes were cold as steel.

“I will make sure he never thinks of doing blood magic again. They gave me six months with him in the dungeons. I will make the most out of it. Fourty lashes for starters. Then we’ll see.”

____________________________________________

~CRACK~

Orsino gritted his teeth and resisted the urge to turn away from his office window at the sound of the first whiplash coming from the courtyard below. Instead he steeled himself and gripped on the thick bars of his windows with white-knuckled resolve. It was one of them they were torturing; one of the very people he advocated for. It was his duty to watch and feel his pain as if it were his own.

He hadn’t lied to the Knight Commander, but in true Orsino fashion, he didn’t reveal the whole truth either. Neither he or Meredith had much say on the matter, and yes, this wasn’t the first mage that had been transfered to the Gallows due to bad conduct, but it was not the same. Meredith knew that; that was why she was furious. Being able to save a criminal like Jowan from death sentence was in itself something of a miracle, and even Orsino didn’t expect he’d be able to make it. It seemed Meredith had indeed underestimated his prowess in diplomacy; although having friends in high places and excellent knowledge of the Chantry Law didn’t hurt either.

Uldred, Jowan’s mentor in magic, was to be praised for this victory as much as he were. There was no doubt in Orsino’s mind that everything Jowan knew on blood magic had come from him; he had taught him many things on the matter as well; albeit years ago. The older man seemed to have a soft spot for the young apprentice, and was concerned about his safety even long before things went downhill. Orsino had promised him that if anything were to happen he’d look after the boy for him by taking him to the Gallows. Sure, he were the youngest first enchanter in the history of Thedas and the third elf to reach that position, but he already knew never to give his word lightly and always to keep it. If he wasn’t like that perhaps he’d be living a much easier life as a mage. Now, however, that Jowan’s pained cries reached the First Enchanter’s window, he was starting to doubt whether bringing him here was the best option.

I’ll make him regret even being born, that was what Meredith said. In that respect they were quite similar, for the Knight Commander was as good as her word too. With thirty years of Gallows experience under his belt, Orsino had no doubt that there was no shortage of Templars who would be more than glad to follow her orders on the matter... fenedhis; as if there weren’t enough incidents of abuse even without official authorization; some of which not even he was excempt. The templars were too afraid of him not to remind him constantly. Good. That meant he still had some power over them. It was now his job to prevent them from proving Meredith’s statement true. Jowan being whipped with nothing he could do about it was admittedly not the best start, but still, better whipped than dead, he forced himself to remember. We should take our small victories no matter where he find them.

Eventually it was over. The Templars untied the half dead by now mage and carried him to the dungeons. Orsino’s first instinct was to immediately follow, but he restrained himself. He needn’t see Jowan’s injuries to know how bad they were, and the mage would probably be half starved too. The elf first went to the kitchens and instructed the tranquil in charge to prepare a basket of food suitable for an ill mage, then to his chambers for a healer's kit and blankets. The basket of food was ready when he came back down, and so laden, he gave the tranquil the request to inform the spirit healer to meet him at the dungeons and headed into the dim lit stairway that led deep into the Gallows’ guts.

It was an intimidating walk, each archway guarded by seasoned templars, faceless in their helmets, glaring at him through the eye slits. At one point Orsino was forced to stand and wait while one of the guards went through his supplies and searched him. It was humiliating; the templar was rougher than he needed to be and seemed to enjoy the power he had over the First Enchanter. The worst part was, this was nothing unusual. He went through it every time one of his mages was shut away down here. "He's clean," the templar finally said, sounding almost disappointed. The elf was allowed to continue past. It was freezing cold in the dungeon, and the cells down here drained mana constantly, so casting was nearly impossible. Orsino wasn't sure if the Tevinters built it this way, or if it was something the Chantry added later. Either way, there was very little documentation. He supposed the Tevinter magisters must have built it though. If the Chantry had found a way to drain mana, every Circle would be built with nothing but.

Finally he was there, The templar accompanying him unlocked the cell and he pushed the iron door open, cringing at the creak the old hinges made. Jowan was huddled on the floor, torn robes pulled tight around her for warmth. His hands were still tied up as the First Enchanter noted, but the blindfold...? He cursed internally. That was utterly uncalled for. One more exhibition at the extra length some templars would go to cause more suffering to his people. This must have been Ser Karras’ handiwork... or perhaps Ser Alrik’s? At this point he was just glad he had Ser Thrask, Samson and Recruit Shannon on his side. At the sound of the door opening, the young mage crawled back, terrified. "Peace child. I've come to check on you," Orsino said softly, placing down the basket of food and medical supplies he was carrying and removing the offending blindfold from Jowan’s eyes. He nodded to the templar and he retreated, leaving them alone in the dungeon’s semi-darkness.

#orsino speaks #dungeons and dungeons #jowan #rp #submission

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dmsr-art · 7 months

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I love your art like yes it’s pretty and it’s horny but also it bypasses my rational gaze and beams directly to my id. My hindbrain is sitting up and panting. Palamedes and Magnus? Augustine and Alfred? Augustine with his fingers in God’s mouth??? THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SHARING.

Do you ever think, in some modern AU where Augustine is still untimely robbed of his little brother who was a better person than him, he imprints a bit on Pal? Not in a wholesome way. In a reluctant, fighting this feeling every step of the way, resenting Pal and maybe taking that resentment out on him (in bed) but also unable to just stop being super possessive of Pal and condescending to him and babying him obnoxiously (still in bed). Palamedes isn’t a child and should not be going back for seconds of whatever mixed signals Augustine’s serving up, he’s not his brother, or his kid, or his kid brother and he shouldn’t want anything to do with this. Augustine needs grief counselling and therapy, Palamedes needs to stop pretending that crawling into his lap and sucking on his fingers is helping either of them. Maybe it’s also super unclear if Augustine and Alfred were like this, or both wanted it but never caved to it, or Augustine wanted it but ruthlessly suppressed it, and now has found a surrogate “baby brother” who comes without the taboo? Anyway, just a desperately messed up horny thought I’m sending your way.

anon thank u so much for this ask i was thinking about it a lot and it inspired this drawing, i hope u enjoy :3 (and yes I agree with everything u said, so true augustine taking quite a liking to pal for dead brother reasons 😳 i also like to imagine a scenario where pal ascends to lyctorhood and also takes over alfred's role as the town bicycle on the mithraeum)

(cropped for tumblr, full is here)

#augustine/pal #gagging for it warden? truly #augustine quinque #palamedes sextus #trans pal #tlt rare pairs #the locked tomb #fingers in mouths #vee asks #my art

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pardonmymannerssir · 5 years

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Prompt: Non rebellion A.U.- Daenerys wants out of her betrothal to her nephew Jon so she plays match maker and steps him up with Sansa Stark.

*Spongebob narrator voice* Two years later…

(Think I’m going to make this a little Tumblr series; consider this part one)

The day Sansa Stark arrives at court to serve as her lady’s maid is the day Daenerys Targaryen recognizes the true face of her salvation.

The Stark girl is escorted by one of the younger Stark sons, both having been sent to court under the pretense of strengthening ties between the North and South, but in truth, they are little more than prisoners. Collateral. A means by which her father hopes to collar Eddard Stark, the infamous Warden in the North who is rumored to be gathering support if not to despot her father, then at the very least to claim the North as an independent kingdom. Dany thinks it is a pointless effort; the longer her father remains alive, the more likely all out rebellion becomes, and long past are the days in which her family might have used dragons to force men to bend the knee.

But that is not what Daenerys is thinking of as the pretty Stark girl nervously approaches the throne. No, she is watching her nephew’s star-struck face and seeing, for the first time, a clear path to freedom. Her freedom.

She almost forgets her father’s presence entirely until he begins to cackle, the sound rasping and broken, echoing through the otherwise silent the hall. Dany flinches from the sound and her eldest brother grimaces; Viserys is near on drunk and is hardly paying any attention at all. Much of the court had gathered to see the Northern captives, but most of them hid carefully in the shadows, hoping to stay out of view and thus beyond notice. Jon is still staring as if he’s seen the sun for the first time, and hardly seems to notice anything or anyone else exists. Dany prays his reaction is not merely because he’s never met another member of his mother’s family -since the near rebellion seventeen years ago the Northern lords had given the Red Keep a wide berth, including his Uncle, Eddard Stark.

The two Stark children kneel, heads bowed, and Lady Sansa’s hair gleams like fire in the bare sunlight that filters through the dusty windows behind the throne. Her gown is simple but well made and clearly expensive, though it is in the fashion of the previous season -one could not expect the Northernmost Houses to keep up with frivolous court fashions, Dany supposes- but it is a pretty blue that compliments her skin and large eyes.

“A beautiful Northern flower, who no doubt smells of fish,” her father hisses, rising unsteadily to his feet. A cut appears on his forearm, overlapping the other scars and scabs on his frail, papery flesh from decades of similar injuries inflicted by his own throne. The dark, thick blood trickles down his arm, but he does not appear to notice. He passes near Dany and she nearly gags at the smell of him. Even after all these years, she has not grown used to his scent or perpetual nastiness. She prays the Stark girl is strong enough to bear what is to come, not only for her own sake but for the sake of the plan forming rapidly in Daenerys’s mind.

“Still,” the king says, his long, matted beard and hair sweeping across the stones. “You are a lovely thing, aren’t you?” He lifts the Lady Sansa’s chin, made all the more awkward by his long, yellow nails and trembling hands.

Dany holds her breath, leaning around her father’s bent profile, and is filled with relief when Sansa Stark smiles prettily and flushes, ducking her head like a virginal maid. Either she is a fool, Dany thinks, or she is an excellent actress; she prays fervently that it is the latter.

“I-it is an honor to be at Court, Your Grace,” Lady Sansa says, her voice sweet and clear.

The king hums genially and strokes the girl’s face with one gnarled knuckle, only barely managing not to smudge her face with blood. Dany does not think she imagines the flash of disgust in the girl’s pretty blue eyes before she closes them, remaining motionless on her knees. Her brother tenses beside her, but keeps his head dutifully bowed.

Rhaegar comes to the girl’s rescue, stepping forward and clearing his throat. Dany tenses; her brother risks much. “Your Grace, surely Lady Sansa and Lord Brandon are weary from their travels and would appreciate a chance to rest.”

The king’s hand falls away and his head snaps back toward his eldest son and heir, eyes flashing with madness and ire. The entire court seems to be holding its breath. But Aerys is not the king he once was, and while he is certainly mad and dangerous, he is not without some sense; should he truly lash out at Rhaegar, he would quickly no longer have even the illusion of a throne.

“Of course,” he croons at the Stark girl, his mood as mutable as ever. “We will have plenty of time to enjoy our new guests.”

“Perhaps Jon might escort them, they are, after all, his family,” Rhaegar presses.

Dany closes her eyes, silently cursing him. He should not press; they live on the edge of a knife.

Aerys tenses, his foul gaze turning toward Jon, who has, thankfully returned to his senses and is no longer looking at the Stark girl as though she’d hung the moon and stars. He appears bored and disinterested, glancing up from his boots as though only just realizing he’s the topic of conversation.

The king’s eyes narrow dangerously. “Very well,” he says at last. “Settle in our guests but do not bother them with your dull presence overly long, bastard.” Jon is legitimate, of course -Rhaegar had married Lyanna Stark, no matter what Robert Baratheon had once claimed- but her father had never acknowledged him as such.

Jon bows dutifully and descends the few steps to greet his cousins with the barest hint of a smile and a proffered arm. Dany does not think she imagines the color high in his cheeks as Sansa Stark gracefully places her arm atop his.

As the three of them pace down the silent hall, Dany glances toward her eldest brother -Viserys apparently completely entranced by his wine glass- who meets her eye. Between them, a plan begins to form, and Dany cannot quite keep the smile from curling around her lips.

Soon, she thinks, eyes tracking the brilliant fire of Sansa Stark’s hair, my father will be dead and I will be free.

#jonsa #jon snow #jon x sansa #jon/sansa #jonsafic #game of thrones #game of thrones fic #jonsa fic #jonsansafic #jonsa fanfiction #got #Sansa Stark #I'd tag other characters but I'm gonna avoid that shipping bs #non rebellion au #rhaegar x lyanna #Rhaegar lives AU

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littlegalerion · 4 years

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A little Character background on Trechire, because I realize it’s probably confusing how I have an OC the daughter of an NPC who directly is against daedric worship, vampires, and lycans.

Trechire was born on the main Isle Summerset, but Vanus and Caafire decided they didn’t want to raise their daughter close to all the prejudice (Caafire suffered from a great deal of scrutiny from the masses on Summerset, to the point she was actually shunned by a one city entirely. I don’t think I need to explain Vanus’ status.) However, they wanted their daughter to at least know Summerset growing up. Say what you want about the altmer, but the islands are beautiful and magic feels as if it’s woven into the spring breeze. So they opted to raise her on Auridon. This went smoothly for a while, as the Mage’s Guild had a nice set up in Firsthold, and Vanus had begun to gain popularity after the more crippling and tense birth of the guild. Even Caafire was better received, though this was mainly due to the Fighter’s Guild taking an interest in her enchanted craftsmanship. Trechire stuck close to her parents until the age of eleven, which was when Vanus took the reins and brought her with him to the other young guilds. Caafire would sometimes bring her along to the Fighter’s Guild, but that obviously held more dangers for a young child than the Mage’s Guild. Not that Caafire was absent in her daughter’s life- the family always found time together, even if it was only once a week, in the more busy seasons.

But something else popped up when Trechire turned eleven- an anxiety disorder. Mental health is not entirely well received in Tamriel, as I’m sure most players have gleaned over the years. You’re either sane, quirky, or clearly possessed by Sheogorath. When Trechire began to experience panic attacks, to the point of freezing completely, trembling, and being unable to register anything but her fear, it didn’t go unnoticed among common society, no matter where they were. The nicer members of the Mage’s Guild tried to stop the rumors from spreading, but to no luck. As the attacks grew more common, Vanus turned towards trusted healers to try and cure his daughter.

An important thing to know about mental health- you can not cure it. You can only treat it, and learn to cope with it. It does not need to rule your life, but it is a part of you, and you must accept that and not try to keep “fixing” yourself.

Therapy wasn’t exactly a real thing yet, at least not to a professional degree. So the healers treated Trechire’s condition as something they needed to cure, which led to a lot of frustrating months of trial and error spells and potions. Then, for a while, Trechire’s attacks seemed to calm down. It was during this time that Aithilo Raamando, a very popular dunmeri wizard, suggested to Vanus and Caafire to enroll Trechire with the Wardens. He argued her temperament was perfect for the class, and that nature- animals, plant life, the stories woven into it- do a wonder for the nerves. They agreed, and at age thirteen, Trechire began to learn from the Wardens of Valenwood. Just to clarify, Vanus didn’t teach Trechire himself, and never planned to, because he didn’t want a teacher-student relationship to poison a father-daughter relationship. The Mage’s Guild was slowly filled with wonderful mentors, from which Trechire could have taken her pick and Vanus would have been just as proud.

At the age of twenty one, the Wardens released Trechire on “field practice”, and she returned to the Mage’s Guild ranks to explore and research with other students. But that didn’t last long.

Her panic attacks returned, and this time in a more intense fashion. Suddenly she had trouble eating, gagging at any of the food offered to her, which immediately would induce an attack. In our words, she would be called “emetophobic”. The attacks would last anywhere from thirty minutes to an hour, during which she wouldn’t want to be touched, save for someone holding her hand. She’d remain sitting, frozen and trembling, unable to hold a conversation but having to wait out the panic. In the more severe cases, she’d begin crying and repeating phrases like “I don’t want to get sick”. Of course healers were turned to once more, and a new fresh round of spells and potions were tested on her.

None worked, nor did any of the teachings of the Wardens soothe her. Trechire was slowly cautioned by her parents to cease any attempts at field work, at least until she had a better grip on herself. So Trechire was often stuck within guildhalls, healers coming to check in on her and run her through some tests, then measuring out some potions for her while she tried to study. Even that was becoming difficult, as her mind couldn’t settle long enough for a peaceful reading. She’d dropped significant weight in a matter of months, having hardly eaten day by day, mostly living on crackers or small slices of bread with cheese. It was all she could get down without freaking out entirely. It got to the point she felt as though she couldn’t function well enough to do anything, despite grabbing for anything that could distract her.

Vanus and Caafire grew more and more worried, understandably, and continued to seek help for her. Eventually, all they could do was comfort her and ask that she be patient, that they’d find someone or something that could heal her. But this carried on for a year, and Trechire just couldn’t take it any longer. People were starting to talk, starting to watch her like some sort of sad experiment. A few jokes got passed around- which Vanus and Caafire tried to kill but unsuccessfully- that Sheogorath would be coming for her, sooner or later. In her panicked and malnourished state, Trechire actually believed that.

She couldn’t take the threat of ending up the Mad God’s puppet, she couldn’t take the defeated and scared faces of her parents, she couldn’t take the memories of having been freely exploring Tamriel as a promising student- she wouldn’t live like this. She was left with two options: one which I will not write here, as she herself doesn’t like remembering she even considered it, and then the other which was to try to seek safety under another daedric prince. If a prince already claimed her soul, Sheogorath couldn’t have her. Maybe the prince could even find a use for her. At that point in her life, she just wanted to be something more than an un-contributing object in a room. Trechire began to secretly raid the guildhalls for texts on the daedra, and narrowed down which princes she thought she’d survive. One in particular caught her attention: Hircine.

As a Warden, she was drawn to his natural order of hunter and prey. The concept of becoming a hunter, of overcoming obstacles that keep you from your goals, of being in control of the animalistic nature bestowed on you- it hooked her right in. Lycans did suffer from thoughts clouded with blood lust and the hunt, but she’d heard stories of some that had learned to control it. What if the same practice could be put to use with her own disorder? It was a long shot, and maybe even in the end she’d be bitterly killed in the process, but it’s the only decision that, at the time, made sense to her withering mind. So she timidly asked if she could go to the guildhall in Reaper’s March, and waited until all was routine, then snuck out one night to find Hircine’s shrine.

Of course Trechire was blessed with a bite, after groveling at the shrine and begging for it. She was welcomed into the Hunting Grounds, and quickly forced to prove her worth among her pack-mates. At first, her condition fought against lycanthropy. Her head spun, clouded by panic and blood lust. But just as she had hoped, among the senior members of the packs, there were alphas whom had learned to cope. Once Trechire sought them out directly, they were happy to teach her- so few lycans ever bother, wanting the raw experience of a savage hunting hound. Every other night, Trechire would sneak out, and join her pack-mates in various locations around Reaper’s March. This continued for the next few years, which yes, was highly stressful. Vanus and Caafire are not easily fooled.

But they are easily distracted, and seeing their daughter suddenly come back to life was a fantastic distraction. The alphas’ teachings worked. Trechire’s attacks didn’t cease completely, but lessened to maybe ten minutes minimum, twenty or thirty max, in the worst cases. She learned how to fight against it, or talk herself through it, just as her teachers had with their blood lust. It was not an easy process, but unlike anything she’d tried before, this was actually coming up with lasting results. Trechire explained this away with one of the numerous potions that had been presented to her by other healers, lying that it was in fact her savior. She popped the potion on a daily basis to ease her parents. Eventually she was allowed her independence once more, and so her nightly outings were easier to manage. She became more involved with the packs, a sense of purpose coursing through her she hadn’t felt in all her life. Trechire began to enforce a strict honor system among her pack-mates, craving truly noble hunts, as well as proper care of their lycan conditions. Traditions like capturing the local wanderer, or tearing after children who played outside villages- what were they? Dogs? No, Trechire was a hunting hound, and as such refused to give chase to anything but REAL prey. Many pack-mates came to agree with her, and they formed their own group under Hircine which stalked the lands, hunting great bandit chiefs, dangerous in hiding criminals, and eventually corrupt politicians.

Trechire, at the age one hundred and twenty, was given the moon-washed white fur of alpha, and full command of packs across the Summerset Isles. At this time, she finally bid her parents farewell, assuring them she was beyond stable, and took up a position in the Lillandril guildhall. During the day, she saw to the matters of the guild, but at night, she ran the packs with both pride and purpose.

That is the complete explanation as to why a Galerion child just happens to be a lycan. The events of ESO for her didn’t happen until she was around two hundred and fifty, by which a lot of other interesting secrets had crept into Trechire’s closet that her parents never knew about. I might write about them later, but they fall under Raveoov’s background as well.

#trechire #eso #vanus galerion #elder scrolls fanfiction

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snarkybluechristian · 4 years

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Hazbin Hotel: Yandere Alastor x Vaggie Chapter 20

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Later, back at the mansion, Vaggie was laying still mummified in ribbons on her bed while Alastor and Rosie had a talk about her behavior.

Vaggie’s mind was in a state of panic. There was no way she could help Angel right now. There was nothing she could do. She couldn’t even warn him.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Vaggie turned her head over to hear knocking on the other side of her bathroom wall followed by “Vaggie, Vaggie, are you there?! What’s going on?!”

“Mmmmmmmph!” Vaggie yelled from behind her gag.

“Oh, I know that noise,” Angel replied sadly. “You’ve been gagged again, huh? Well, it sounds like you’re in trouble from what I’ve heard our wardens say outside. How ever they punish you, don’t let them see you cry, babe. Stay strong until it’s over and I’ll be right here to comfort you when they’re done.”

“Mmmmmmmpppppppphhhhhhhhh!” Vaggie cried helplessly from behind her gag.

There was nothing she could do but pray.

Suddenly, Vaggie and Angel heard the locks to Angel’s room being opened.

Angel looked up in surprise and then anger as they opened the door to the bathroom to find him with crutches leaning against the bathroom wall.

“You bastards are sick. You know that?” Angel snarled.

“What ever do you mean, my dear Angel?” Rosie asked with thinly-concealed malice as Alastor gestured for him to return to his bed.

“Vaggie says something you don’t like and you punish her by hurting me,” Angel replied reluctantly using his crutches to hobble his way back to the bed. “That’s sick and not in a good way.”

As soon as Angel made his way to the bed, Alastor tossed aside Angel’s crutches and said, “Oh, Angel, you’re quite rude considering I’ve made you a guest in my home. I do believe some manners need to be taught to you as well.”

Angel scoffed and said seductively, “Oh, daddy! Are you going to punish me again?”

Alastor chuckled and said, “Not exactly. I can’t exactly damage my main auction prize. Can I?”

“Oh, if I may make a suggestion, how about injecting his bloodstream with a non-fatal poison of my own invention?” Rosie suggested merrily. “It’ll make him feel as though he’s on fire!”

“My dear Rosie, under any other circumstances, I would say yes, but this time, I must decline,” Alastor replied placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You see, as fun as that sounds, dear, that type of thing could significantly delay his healing process. Poison like that might damage his nerves too badly. Don’t you have anything that could make his healing process more painful? Perhaps a serum that heals its patients in an unusual way?”

“I have just the thing!” Rosie said cheerfully. “It’s a potion that heals bones in the most agonizing way imaginable.”

“Oh, Rosie, dear, that sounds just perfect!” Alastor replied jovially. “Which bone should we heal?”

“How about his ribs?”

“I healed those already.”

“Oh, that’s right…Oh, I know! How about his pelvis? You injured that as well when you were playing with him. Didn’t you?”

“That’s right! But don’t give me all the credit, dear. You did a number on it when you played with him, too. We both damaged it.”

“Alrighty, then. The pelvis, it is. What do you think, Angel?”

Alastor and Rosie turned to Angel waiting for his response, but Angel only scoffed and said, “Whatever…”

“Mmmmmmmmpppppppphhhhhhh!” Vaggie screamed struggling desperately to escape from her ribbons.

Her struggling managed to get her to fall off the bed onto the ground.

Vaggie sighed about ready to give in to her helpless situation until she saw her open bathroom on the other side of the room and came up with another plan.

She wriggled her cocooned body inch by inch into the bathroom until she reached the wall separating her bathroom from Angel’s and kicked the door with all her might.

“Alastor, did you hear something?” Rosie asked as she finished sending her text message to her penguin familiar.

“Oh, that’s just Vaggie trying to stop us,” Alastor replied nonchalantly.

“What should we do about it?” Rosie asked with a wicked smirk on her face.

“Why, let her hear the punishment, of course,” Alastor said merrily.

“All tied up on the floor like that?” Rosie asked raising an eyebrow. “Oh, Alastor, you really are too cruel.”

“Jesus Christ, you two are annoying,” Angel finally said in annoyance. “You talk a big talk while doin’ absolutely nothin’. If you’re gonna do something, why don’t you do it already? I’m so fuckin’ bored. I could use the action. Hey, Vaggie! You don’t have to worry about me. You know I love pain.”

Vaggie, however, continued thrashing around on the floor breaking free from the ribbons. She didn’t care that Angel claimed to enjoy pain. Vaggie knew that Alastor and Rosie’s “treatment” would go beyond whatever threshold of pain Angel could manage.

“Is the serum here yet?” Alastor asked.

“Just a moment,” Rosie said turning away and walking out of the room.

Once Rosie left the room, Angel sat himself upon the bed off the wall with the support of his one good arm and said, “Hey, Alastor. Can I ask you something?”

Alastor chuckled out loud and replied, “And what shall you humor me with this time, Angel?”

Vaggie stopped struggling and listened in.

“It’s about Vaggie,” Angel said. “You need to lay off her.”

“Hmm?” Alastor asked raising an eyebrow.

“You and I both know Vaggie’s a tough cookie, but she’s been alive longer than she’s been dead,” Angel began. “She ain’t used to the kind of abuse we are. At least, not yet. You can’t keep being this cruel to her if you want her to love you back. She’ll snap. You need to let her go…”

“I know what you’re doing,” Alastor interrupted. “And it’s not going to work.”

“What are you saying, handsome?” Angel asked with a flirtatious smile.

“I am trying to tame the shrew out of Vaggie, not coddle it,” Alastor replied.

Angel scoffed and said, “I know. We’ve been reading your book. Vaggie’s not Kate, and you’re no Petruchio.”

Alastor chuckled out loud and said, “So, you say…”

“Oh, Alastor!” Rosie called out merrily as she re-entered the room with a syringe in her hand. “I’ve got the serum!”

“Oh, goodie,” Alastor said in an upbeat tone that was just as merry. “Let’s get this treatment going.”

Angel’s eyes narrowed in a determined glare as Rosie uncovered the syringe and he continued his defiant tirade, “You need to read the book again because you seem to have missed the most important point. Kate never changes. She only learns how to act, but I doubt you’ll ever reach that point with Vaggie. You see, Kate was a spoiled brat. Vaggie’s an El Salvadoran woman who learned to fight her way through life’s…”

Just then, Rosie injected the serum into Angel’s pelvis. The pain was almost instantaneous.

Angel didn’t show the pain he was in at first. He only started moaning in pleasure. Then, all of a sudden, the broken bits of his pelvis started moving, yanking and stretching his muscles.

Angel immediately grabbed his pillow and held it over his face so he could bite into the fluff and hide his tears.

Unfortunately, Rosie snatched the pillow out of Angel’s hand as Alastor snapped his fingers causing shackles to hold Angel’s arms above his head so that Vaggie could hear Angel’s screams of agony.

Vaggie squirmed around and moaned in a panic.

After a few moments of screaming and groaning at having his broken arms chained to the wall, Angel heard Vaggie’s muffled screams as she struggled on the other side of the bathroom wall.

That made Angel all the more determined. He shut his mouth and refused to keep screaming. When Angel couldn’t hold it in, he lowered his head down and bit down on his fluff much to the chagrin of his captors.

On the other side of the bathroom wall, Vaggie was feeling distraught.

Alastor sighed in disappointment and said, “Oh, why isn’t Angel screaming?”

“He’s stopping himself from screaming,” Rosie replied. “And we both know the reason why.”

“Well, obviously,” Alastor said nonchalantly noticing the blood trickling from Angel’s chest. “Angel’s doing it for Vaggie.”

“Oh, how sweet,” Rosie said with a mockingly sweet tone in her voice. “Angel must truly care about her.”

“Indeed,” Alastor said clenching his teeth in frustration.

“It’s so charming how strong he is trying to be,” Rosie noted. “I think I might be in love…”

“Go fuck yourselves!” Angel suddenly cried out before going back to gnawing on his chest fur.

“Well, that was not very nice, love,” Rosie said with a bemused chuckle.

“Angel, you are not cooperating,” Alastor said with a judgmental head shake. “That is not good.”

Angel ignored the comment and only bit down harder before Rosie chimed in with, “Oh, Alastor, dear. If I may make a suggestion, why don’t you go into the other room and comfort your bride-to -be? I’ll make Angel cooperate.”

“How ever will you do that?” Alastor asked.

“Oh, I’ll tell you after the fact,” Rosie said leering at Angel. “I want it to be a surprise.”

“In that case, Rosie, my dear, have at him,” Alastor said as he turned away and walked to the door. “I shall go see my darling bride.”

Vaggie panicked and began thrashing around more wildly in a desperate attempt to free herself. Unfortunately, the ribbons wrapped around her didn’t budge or move.

Vaggie sat there in dread as she heard Alastor enter her room and open the door to her bathroom.

“Oh, my darling wife! What are you doing rolling around on the floor like that?” Alastor exclaimed scooping up Vaggie in his arms and sitting himself at her spot on the floor against the wall. “I may have your room cleaned daily, but still…This is no place for any wife of mine.”

Vaggie struggled fiercely to escape Alastor’s hold only for him to hold her snuggly and whisper, “Calm down, dearest. I’m here now.”

Vaggie only scowled at Alastor and continued to struggle harder.

Alastor wrapped his arms more tightly around Vaggie and said, “Lie still, my love, and listen to the show.”

All of a sudden, Angel let out a blood-curdling scream from the other side of the wall.

Vaggie was paralyzed with fear, but Alastor sighed in contentment and said, “There, we go.”

Vaggie’s shock wore off and she continued struggling against her restraints and her fiancé’s hold as Angel continued screaming in agony.

“Are you going to behave for Rosie now, beloved Kate?” Alastor abruptly asked ignoring Vaggie’s struggles.

Vaggie quit struggling for a moment and laid there against Alastor’s torso submitting to his hold as she felt the tears roll from her eyes.

Alastor wiped them away, stroked the top of Vaggie’s head, and said, “That’s a good girl…”

“NO! YOU AIN’T HIS FUCKING KATE, VAGGIE! DON’T GIVE HIM WHAT HE WANTS…AHHHHHHH!” Angel suddenly cried out before the crack of a whip interrupted his outburst.

“Shut up!” Rosie yelled from the other side of the wall.

Angel continued screaming for another moment before everything went silent and the only noise that could be heard was Angel plopping back onto his bed free from his restraints.

Alastor, stood up, picked up Vaggie and said, “Now, Kate, I am a husband for your turn, For, by this light, whereby I see thy beauty- Thy beauty that doth make me like thee well - Thou must be married to no man but me...”

Vaggie’s frightened eyes settled into an angry glare as Alastor carried her out of the bathroom and continued his Shakespeare recital, “For I am he born to tame you, Kate, and bring you from a wild Kate to a Kate Conformable as other household Kate’s.”

“Mmmmmmmppphhhhh!” Vaggie cried out furiously behind her gag as she struggled more tremendously than ever to escape Alastor’s hold and her ribbons.

Without another word, Alastor laid Vaggie back on her bed and left the room.

Vaggie continued her struggle to break free until she heard Alastor talking to Rosie in the hallway.

“The serum worked, Alastor,” Rosie said shutting and locking the door to Angel’s room. “Angel’s pelvis is all healed.”

“Good work, Rosie, my dear,” Alastor said cheerfully. “You may release Vaggie now.”

Rosie snapped her fingers causing the grey ribbons mummifying Vaggie’s body to unravel. In an instant, the ribbons had released Vaggie from their hold, slithered down the bed and across the floor, and went under the door to return to the master who summoned them.

“Enjoy the rest of your evening, Vaggie,” Alastor called out from the hallway. “Dinner will be sent to your room shortly. Rosie and I will be dining downstairs.”

“Do be sure to rest, dear,” Rosie added in a merry tone. “We’ll be continuing your etiquette classes tomorrow.”

“Goodnight!” Alastor called out as he and Rosie finally walked away.

#hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbinhotelvaggie #hazbinhotel angeldust

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cutieink · 5 years

Text

Get Along for Her Sake

A Fenhawke Fan Fic by CutieInk

Lots of angst, sass and fluff <3

Read here on AO3

Maxine Hawke was a patient person on most occasions. She might as well been bred to be due to her upbringing. A farm girl apostate with two younger siblings to help take care of was no fleeting task growing up and often she’d shake with anxiety, biting the soft flesh of her cheeks as she held back the need to break her façade of well behaved eldest daughter of the Hawke-Amell line.

But when it became too much, she allowed herself to run from it all into the woods near her families cottage and sit while silently weeping. She’d listening to the utter silence of her surroundings and reveled in it. No orders, no bickering, no judgment, no fear, just the calming sounds of birds singing, the rustle of leaves as critters went about their simple lives and the occasional downpour of rain pattering on the forests canopy that she so loved.

As her surroundings calmed her she’d fantasize of a selfish life just made for her. Something romantic like the novels her mother had given her; Of a knight in shining armor whisking her away or maybe even her being the one doing the whisking of some fair Serrah. She’d hum a tune softly as she engulfed herself in a world of her very own; she found enough peace in these moments alone to keep moving forward. To keep being that perfect girl everyone expected of her.

These moments usually ended with her gaining her composure once more and making her way back home but if she dallied long enough her siblings would find her and inform that she need to come home immediately, or worse even her mother yelling for her but she needed this time to herself, even more so after her father passed. By then she was an adult and held more responsibilities then ever even with her fully grown siblings to aid her. It became harder and harder to find any time for herself and it would only get worse when the Blight approached Lothering…

Kirkwall, mid 3:32 Dragon

Maxine strikes down the last blood mage with a skin charring burst of magic and with that they fall to the ground finally dead. Maxine breathlessly pierces her staff into the ground with her last bit of strength and drops to the ground, crossing her legs together as she tries to regain a healthy heart beat.

“You good Hawke?” Varric asks his friend while patting her back lightly not to rouse her too much. She waves her hand behind her trying to pat him back but fails too and drops her hand in defeat.

“Yeah…yeah I’m fine just…need a moment. Sorry guys.” She feels another presence kneel next to her. Looking up she sees a vile of lyrium being dangled in front of her face.

“I think you’ll need this.” Anders said with a chuckle. Weakly she takes it and gulps it down fast, so not to gag on the thick glowing substance. Almost as quickly she feels relieved and breathes a long exhale of relief and looks up at the runaway warden and gives an appreciative nod in thanks.

“You know you wouldn’t be so broken down after battle if you actually let us do some of the work there Hawke.” Varric chuckled.

“I second that, you weren’t even letting me heal, you know that thing that’s my job when I’m around?” Anders says pointing at himself while quirking his eyebrows at her. Looking at Varric he then points to her. “She kept beating me to the punch.”

“Oh I’m sorry if you boys are too slow to do it yourself.” She scoffs with a gentle grin across her face which fades as a shadow looms over her and Anders. They slowly look up to see Fenris with his hands firmly on his hips as he glares down at Maxine before letting out a long sigh and reaching out his gauntlets awaiting her to take his offer of help up from the blood coated ground. Her face turns crimson making Anders eyes roll as she takes the offer almost timidly.

“I cannot believe I’m saying this Hawke but…”He pauses as he pulls her up with haste causing her to be deathly close to his strikingly stoic face. “Listen to the mage and the dwarf for once.” He finishes and turns on his heel to go grab his sword, leaving her flushed with embarrassment as Varric laughs at Anders almost dumbfounded face.

“Ha! Maker, Hawke you made them agree on something…and me! I believe I’ve just witnessed a miracle!”

“Yes well I’m sure you just jinxed it.” She quietly affirms to the hairy dwarf as she bites her lip in anxious anticipation. Anders rises from his squatting position, not even hearing his friends banter and turns his full attention to the broody elf that was in the middle of pulling his great sword off of the ground.

“Funny how even as you agree with me for the first time since we’ve known each other for, what a year and a half now? You still insist on calling me Mage. Which mind you I’m not even the only mage in your company at the present moment.” Anders says with an annoyed chuckle gesturing towards Maxine, leading her gaze back to Varric. “You could at least try to be a little creative.”

“Aw, shit.” Sighs Varric as he looks down in shame as Maxine hits his shoulder with the palm of her hand.

“See? You did this. You ruined the moment.”

“What can I say? I’m better at writing good moments than making them.” Varric shrugs with an apologetic grin to the women who only stood about 6 inches taller than he. Their attention is pulled away from each other as they hear an annoyed growl leave Fenris’s lips.

Fenris is now glaring back at Anders, leaving his sword to fall onto the sun bleached dirt once again. “Well you insist on proclaiming your title as a Mage so often I don’t see why it’s a problem. Besides I’ve called you far worse.” So tempted to tell him exactly what he wishes to call him. Abomination.

“Oh! So I should be grateful then! Well then yes thank you all mighty Elven Warrior for not referring to me as Abomination no longer! Truly, I am so honored.” Anders dramatically exclaims as he bows to Fenris.

Here we go. Maxine thought as her heart begins to beat faster as if she had been drained of her lyrium once again. It was a mistake to bring them both, you idiot why did you bring them both! She scolds herself as she watches her friends spit words laced with poison like vipers.

“Do not test my patience, leave this be Mage and we can move on. I’m sure we all have better things to do.” Fenris grits his teeth as he gets in Anders face attempting to intimidate him but the human stands his ground.

“Yes let’s move on Anders. Please…” Maxine begs as she digs her long nails into her arms, just wanting this to be over. It was bad enough she was forced to slaughter her own kind today, them being blood mages did not change that fact for her. Now she is forced to see her friends who loathed each other argue was just sending her into panic mode. Something she’d had been trying so hard to keep away from her friends.

Anders darts his dagger like glare to her making her breath hitch. His auburn eyes statically turn blue with mana as he loses himself to Justice. “You take this elf’s side over your own kind you wench?!” Justice blurts out before losing control to Anders. Before he can react, Fenris pins him to ground in a blink of an eye, his markings vivid with the glow of lyrium illuminating under his skin.

“Fenris! Stop, get off of him!” Maxine yells in shock while Varric holds her back not wanting her to get into the scuffle he assumes will end soon.

“T-That wasn’t me. I’m sorry Haw-Ugh, Makers balls get off of me you beast! I’m in control now!” Anders says as he tries and fails to twist his wrists out of the elfs skin piercing grasp.

“Yes, for now! But what of next time, hmm? When will it get through your thick skull that you are in way over your head!? That you are no better than the mages we killed today!” A jolt of electricity runs through Fenris, burning his brandings from the inside. He cries out in pain as Anders gets the upper hand and practically throws Fenris off of him and holds him down by his spiky feathered shoulders. Maxine watches in wide eyed horror almost losing her footing as Varric lets go of her seeing that this has crossed a line.

Anders viciously shouts down at Fenris. “I am nothing like them! I help people; I’m trying to make this Blighted world a better fucking place for my people, for everyone! And what have you done with your freedom?! Sulk in your Masters disheveled Mansion and gawk over our Mage leader like she’s some forbidden fruit for you to devour you fucking pervert!”

“FUCK YOU!” Fenris screams his lungs out in Anders face as a tear threatens to descend his duct from the pain of his markings and the mages harsh words.

“NO! FUCK YO-Whoa!” Anders is cut off as he feels himself being swept off of Fenris easily with an invisible force. As both Anders and Fenris gain their composure they look up at the culprit looming over them.

“Holy shit Hawke.” Varric shuttered a few feet away from her, intimidated just by her stance and not even the terrifying view that the arrogant men lying on the floor had the displeasure of seeing. Her honey colored eyes flooded with a flaming rage begging to be let loose.

“Is it truly too much to ask for you both to get the fuck along!?” Maxine screeches as she eyes them both in earnest. Their stunned silence as they look at each other and then quickly back to her only seems to make her fall farther from her sanity. Unbelievable bastards she thinks before chuckling. “I mean Isabela and Aveline might get into it now and then but I know they care for one another even if they’d never bloody admit it. Maker’s sake even Carver was never this bad with me and…and…”

The thought of her sisters sweet angelic face, bloodied and bruised as her mother cries over her broken body and her blight illed brother being carried off to the wardens interrupts her train of thought. Tears threaten to blur her vision as she pressed her pale chapped lips together to prevent them from seeing her lips trembling in grief.

I failed to keep my brother and sister safe, and now I can’t even protect my friends from each other.

“You know what forget it…nothing I’ll say will change either of you stubborn pricks. Sod it I’m sure you’re both mad at me now right? Let me guess, because I threw you off a man who was just trying to protect us because you can’t control your own blighting body?!” Hawke gestures to Anders. “Well I’m sure if you were in his position you have done the same for us so don’t you dare blame him for that! And for that matter, don’t you EVER use magic on him or any of our friends like that again or I swear I will make you regret the day you left the Wardens! Is that understood?!”

“Y-yes, Hawke.” He holds his scraped up hand while averting his gaze from her in apologetic defeat. Of course she felt lousy for pushing him and with magic no less, but seeing him cause Fenris pain was too much to bear. But her anger over the whole situation made her refuse to apologize to anyone.

With that she turned her attention to Fenris who scowled at her. She was unsure if it was from the pain or he was truly annoyed with her as well, but her anger was getting the better of her. “Oh and I’m certain you’ve found some reason to blame me for all this. For making you come along even when you always insist on coming along! Or better yet, I bet you think this is some kind of sign I’m losing control of my magic, yes? That any second I’ll prove you right that even a mage like me will succumb to possession?”

She exclaims as she conjures fire in her shaky hands, displaying it before extinguishing it just as fast with a snap of her wrists, causing his eyes to widen in response before regaining his stoic composure. “Well sorry to disappoint but I will spend the rest of my sorrowful life proving to people like you that I don’t need to be leashed like a fucking Mabari! That I use my magic for no personal gain but to help the people I care for, even if they hate me for what I am!” Her voice embarrassingly breaks as she yells down at Fenris as she felt tears burning her eyes.

Fenris’s harsh gaze begins to soften as he reads between the lines of her vicious words. Hate she said. Does she truly think I hate her because she’s a mage? He could not really blame her for believing that of him. For the past year and a half he had been avid about ranting his feelings on mages. How magic is a power that taints everything it possesses.

Yet he was no fool…well not always. He knew magic could be of use. Maker he’d probably be dead by now if it wasn’t for Hawke and even Anders and Merrill’s aid during some of their bloodiest of battles. Although he had avoided admitting this, he even had begun to see that maybe some were worthy of such bewitchment. Hawke’s prowess and virtue was endearing enough to begrudgingly make him think such nonsense. Without realizing it, he had put her on a pedestal above all others. Mage or not.

The only other person who had not figured this out was Maxine herself, proving quite obvious as she looked in anguish down at him. Before he could reply, she breaks their eye contact and begins to storm off.

“Hawke, wait! Where are you going?” Varric questions as he tries to catch up with her. Not stopping for even a second, she yells back at him.

“I’m leaving before I say something I’ll truly regret later! Just…go home and if you don’t mind make sure Tweedle Dick and Tweedle Dumbass don’t kill each other while you’re heading back to town! I’m…taking a walk before I go back.”

“Uh, y-yeah you got it! Just don’t stay out too late! Rather not have your darling mother scold us for losing track of ya!” Varric yells back, watching her leave his sights before letting out a long sigh. He turns back to the men seeing Anders is healing his hand while Fenris seems lost in thought.“Soo…If I were you two I’d kiss and make up before seeing our fearless leader again. I oddly think that was her holding back on you both.” He says with a chuckle while rubbing the back of his neck.

“You may be right about that… Maker, I’ve never seen her that upset before.” Anders sadly replies as he stands up, rubbing his bruised side. He looks down hesitantly at Fenris who is still looking in the direction that Maxine stormed off too. And I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you so lost for words. He thinks as he ponders his next move.

Fenris’s gaze is blurred by a glass bottle filled with a red liquid, being dangled in front of him. He tips his head up to see the mage looking back with his brow furrowed.

“I doubt you’d let me heal you after…well, you know.”

“You’d be correct with your assumption.” Fenris replies coldly, biting his tongue trying not to say anything that might renew their altercation. Yet he smoothly pushes away the peace offering and starts to rise from the ground. “But I do not require your pity. And let us not pretend we are sorry for what we said or did shall we?” He said dusting off tights and begins to walk away when he’s stopped by Anders hand on his shoulder, making him groan in pain. His markings still dull with more discomfort than usual.

“You’re right, I’m not sorry for what I said because it was true and I know you’re no delicate flower who can’t handle a little bloody prick of magic…but I am sorry about what we did to Hawke and I know you are too. So I’m willing to forget today and try a little harder to keep the peace with you but only if you are as well.” Anders states as he glares down at Fenris who did the same.

Fenris slowly looks down with a sighs and slight nod in agreement. “Very well…but do not expect me to not protect our comrades from your demon in the future.”

“Spirit!”

“Whatever you wish to call it does not change a thing! I will not hesitate to take you down like I did today! Just consider yourself lucky I will not rip your heart out unless it is necessary.” Fenris retorts, yanking Anders grip off of him. Their eyes burn into each other’s till they feel themselves being pushed away firmly making them grunt in unison.

“Alright, enough with the pissing contest already! Ya want me tattle to Hawke that you whiny sods kept fighting after she left?” Varric warns as he points his gloved finger and raises his eyebrows at the elf and human. Anders and Fenris look back at each other squinting one last time in disgust at one another and then take a respectful step away from one another. “That’s what I thought. Now, shake on it.”

Anders rolls his eyes while Fenris groans at the dwarf’s request but they comply. This was for Hawke’s sake and nothing more to them. Anders raises his hand casually awaiting Fenris’s reluctant hand. As they shake on it, they give a tight squeeze as they glare intently at each other before yanking their grips away quickly.

“Good boys.” Varric says patting them like misbehaved pups to which Fenris whacks his hand away while Anders glares down at his short friend. Varric only laughs in response and starts to make his way down the mountain. “Now come on you two I promised Hawke to escort you back to your respective lairs.”

“Yeah, yeah I’m coming you hairy bastard.” Anders mumbles as he makes his way to Varric’s side.

Varric looks back to see that Fenris is staring off into the direction Hawke went. “Hey Broody! You coming or what?” The elf snaps his attention to Varric but then looks down in thought as he bites his lip.

“I…think I’ll wait up for Hawke. I wish to see she gets home safe.” Fenris says as his attention goes back to the other path leading to Maxine. Anders tries to say something but Varric tugs his sleeve and gives him a look that tells him not to say anything stupid which leaves Anders mumbling a “fine” and keeps walking.

“Sounds good to me, just try not to sour her mood more than the two of you already have eh? Rather not have to plan your funeral because you can’t hold your tongue, if you don’t mind.” Varric requests of his broody friend.

He can’t help but let out a chuckle at Varric’s way of showing concern for his and Hawke’s well being in his own humorous way. “I’ll manage just fine, Dwarf.” With that Fenris picks up his sword, puts it on his back and begins to make his way towards Hawke’s direction.

“Alright, alright, see you tomorrow if you aren’t dead Broody!” Varric replies with a smirk and finally he turns to descend the hill once more while Anders sternly looking back at Fenris before slowly making his way down as well.

“Are you sure we should trust him with checking on Hawke.”

“Blondie I didn’t see you offering.”

“Well…neither did you.” Anders looked away flustered while crossing his arms as they continue walking.

“Hey I’m an innocent bystander in this mess if you didn’t notice. Besides, this works out well. We live in Lowtown, them in Hightown. Meaning I don’t have to walk a few extra miles today.”

“So sure you don’t need that extra exercise.” Anders says with a sly grin as he begins to calm down.

“Ha-ha very funny. Just for that I ain’t buying drinks at the Hanged man tonight. You’re gonna pay in some way for the crap you pulled today.”

“So I’m paying for your drinks? I hate to say it but wouldn’t it make more sense to do something for the two of them?”

“Eh consider it practice. You can pretend I’m the elf so we can see if you can go without saying something stupid when talking to him from now on.”

“You expect him to do the same for me?” Anders scoffs.

“Maybe not. But you said it yourself. You both need to try harder to get along. At the very least for Hawke. If that means only one of you being the bigger man, then so be it.” Varric said as he rested his hands on the back of his head, lightly playing with the back of his ponytail.

Anders really couldn’t argue with that. He knew he went too far today. They all did in their own ways. Well, accept Varric but he was always the one who tried to appease everyone around him, Hawke being a close second. He admired that but it wasn’t second nature for him like it was for them. They didn’t go through the torment he went through. He had no patients any more to bite his tongue through his oppression… If only he realized Fenris felt similarly.

Fenris easily began to track the small foot prints Hawke had left behind. He sees they become less indented in the dirt the farther he walks, showing less animosity in her stride. Although glad to see the difference in her step, he worries he’ll lose her track at this rate with how the wind seems to be picking up as the sun has begun to lower.

As he rounds another corner he sees a small figure sitting on an old log covered with moss with their head hung low and their arms wrapped around themselves protectively. Hawke he almost says allowed but holds his tongue and only watches her for a few moments, assessing her state before making his move. She is shaking as she slowly rocks back and forth on the log.

He cannot see her face as her dark chocolate hair obscures it, but the sound of her weeping paints a picture that wounds him. It’s not that he had never seen her cry before, but when she did she was silent and would only shed a few tears before gaining her composure back with time and was back to her diplomatic yet bold self. This…was different. He had never heard her sound so somber before. Not even when she came home after what transpired in the Deep Roads with her brother.

It hurt to see her in such a state but also was rather uncomfortable for him. He was not knowledgeable in the matters of comforting someone; let alone someone who he caused pain too. Maybe this was a mistake. He thinks. This is my doing. What could I possibly-

“F-Fenris?”

His thoughts are interrupted by Hawke’s hoarse voice making him blush in embarrassment. He looks up reluctantly to see her quickly rubbing her face and nose, trying to look a bit less pathetic. Her eyes and lips are puffy and red as she looks over her shoulder at him. He can’t hide how his face contorts in surprise and woe at her appearance, making her avert his gaze as her face becomes even rosier.

“Is…is it just you?”

“Yes…”

“Oh…are they mad? “

He gives her a puzzled look while stepping closer. “At you? No. Frightened maybe but I’m sure after a few ales they’ll be over it.”

Still wiping her face with her sleeve she lets out a weak chuckle. “I did go overboard on all of you didn’t I?”

“Perhaps. But I’m one to talk hmm?” he says while lightly kicking a small rock closer to her. It rolls near her and she stops it with her scuffed black boot.

“…What are you doing here Fenris?”

“I-I wanted to see you home safe…besides I’ve grown accustom to walking home with you.” He says quietly as he slowly walks closer to her.

She snickers while shaking her head still not looking at him, still trying to gain her composure. “What need me to hold your hand through Hightown? You’re a big boy you can handle yourself just fine without me.”

“If anyone needs hand holding right now it’d be you, Hawke.” He scoffs at her and taking his sword, piecing it in the ground before taking a seat next to her, not bothering to ask permission.

“Pfft, right like you’d actually-“she lets out a small gasp as she feels cold metal claws wrap gently around her shaky hand. Doe eyed she finally looks at him. His eyebrows furrowed and eyes hooded but intense as always. An intensity others would be fearful of but not her, not ever. “Well…that’s a first. Is this you trying to be the sincere one for once?”

“I could stop if you’re just going to point it out.”

“No, no this is good! It’s…just a rarity with you.” She didn’t mean to sound so matter-of-fact about his lack of affection. She understood his nature due to his grim past, even if she didn’t know the extent of the torment he went through.

“…I know.” He bluntly says while looking away seemingly ashamed of himself. Showing affection was not something he was at all use too and compared to Hawke he was as empathetic as a starved Dragon.

Everyone in their group of misfits had their own way of showing affection towards each other. Whether that was a pat on the back, a tight embrace, a punch on the arm, or even a kiss on the cheek. But they all knew to be cautious with Fenris, even Hawke showed restraint with her physical affection with him comparative to her other friends. He should have been relieved by that and yet he seemed as of lately to desire to be closer to her, to share the same affection she would give to her friends or perhaps more than that.

He feels like pulling away but feels her grip tighten before he can act on his impulse to flee. “I appreciate when you do though.” She said softly, gripping his hand and putting it on her thigh with a weak smile that eases Fenris’s nerves.

“Are you alright?” he asks knowing she isn’t.

“Been better…you?”

“Don’t worry about me.” He bluntly answers.

They sit there in utter silence for a few seconds, neither sure of how to go about discussing any of what transpired that day without causing some form of disagreement. They may have been good at fighting, but that didn’t mean they enjoyed it.

“So…did you only come here to see me home safe?” she asks nervously while grazing her thumb on Fenris’s gauntlet. He sighs deeply while rubbing the back of his neck.

“I-I wanted to apologize for causing you… unneeded stress for you with the mages and I’s quarrel.”

Hawke raises her eyebrow and glares at him while releasing her grip on his hand to fold her arms. It confuses him at first but then easily realizes his error. His hand feels oddly bare without her touch which befuddles him. He almost finds himself reaching out for her but instead digs his claws into his palm and settles his hand to his side with a sigh.

“…Anders and I’s quarrel. There, satisfied?”

“Is that so hard for you to do? Because if you remember something as simple as that, today wouldn’t have happened the way it did.” Hawke scoffs.

“Are you truly blaming me right now for this?” his voice now slightly raised showing his growing annoyance.

“I blame both of you actually. You two act like jealous mabari around each other. It’s cute till one starts maiming the other.”

“I was trying to-” he pauses and pinches the bridged of his nose, trying not to raise his voice any higher. “…I was only trying to keep you and Varric safe. Maker knows what that demon would have done if I didn’t.” Truth be told he wasn’t even thinking about Varric when he pinned Anders to the ground. All he heard was Anders distorted voice calling her a wench, making his blood boil and suddenly he was on top of him.

“Yes and I do appreciate the sentiment but I think we were just fine. You may be our main warrior of our group since I lost Carver to the Wardens and Aveline is too busy these days being Guard Captain to help out but that doesn’t mean I need you to fight all my battles.”

“Look who’s talking!” Fenris finally breaks while quickly standing up to glare down at the small mage.

“And what is that suppose to mean?” she scoffs in question.

“You were a reckless fool today! You drained your mana because you wouldn’t allow Annndersss” he draws out the other mages name to keep to her wishes but in the most annoying way possible, making Hawke’s eyes roll in response. “To heal us in battle and you wouldn’t even let the rest of us take most of the abominations down ourselves! I may be ignorant to exactly how your magic works but I know for a fact you could have easily harmed yourself with how careless you were!”

“Well maybe I wanted things done quickly, ok! Yes they needed to be put down because they were a threat but if it had to be anyone it would be me who takes them down! Not by a man who couldn’t care less about their plight or a mage who sees all blood mages as monsters when many could argue that is exactly what he is even if I don’t believe he is despite his hypocrisy! …I know at least that is how I’d want it to be if I was one of them-”

“No! You are nothing like them!” He grasps her shoulder before he is pushed off almost immediately.

“But I am a Mage! Something you like to forget it seems! Anders may have been cruel with his words but it is true you don’t treat me like other mages. Why? What’s the point?! And don’t say I should be grateful because it is no compliment to be an exception from what you despise! Either you hate me for what I am or you don’t! I am so sick of one minute we are having nothing but fun with each other and the next you are tearing my people down and expecting me to not take it personally! So pick how you feel already!” She yells back now standing as tall as she can as she scowls craning her neck up to meet his gaze.

Her eyes are red with tears and he can’t bear to look at her straight. He looks away and crosses him arms gently together, not sure how to word why he treated her so differently than others. How could he when he wasn’t truly sure himself?

“It’s not that simple. You…you are just different. I’ve never met any mage like you…or anyone who is like you for that matter.”

“I’m not that different from anyone el-”

“You are, Maxine.” Fenris butts in making Hawke look up in surprise at hearing him say her given name.

“…Alright then, how am I different?”

“When we first met, I wanted to hate you. Yes you are what I fear in this world but…since day one you’ve been nothing but kind to me, even when I never deserved it. Not even at my worst have you been spiteful.”

“Not counting today I imagine.” She let out a weak scoff while nervously running her hand through her matted hair.

“It was…justified. You’ve obviously been holding your tongue for a long time. Maybe even more so than Anders and I have towards each other.”

“You may be right about that…you were saying?”

He nods in thought before speaking once more. “It… confused me, even angered me at times how you treated me. But with time I saw you were just that way with everyone. You were treating me as an equal. Something I’ve never been before.” He cautiously takes her small hand in his. “It has been a long time since I’ve ever met anyone as gracious as you, mage or not. So I assume my reasoning is you deserve to be treated with the same respect you give me, if not more.”

“Well…that’s all fine and good but whether you like it or not I’m still a mage and I will always believe that most mages want to help others if they only had the chance too. I’d like to think my family was living proof of that. My father and sister would have never hurt you or anyone unless they saw them as a threat to who they cared for…just as I do.” She sighs and lightly scrapes her fingernails across his gauntlet.

“If they were anything like you I’m sure you’re right.” His words shock her, making her meet his gaze in question.

“…And if more mages were like me?”

“Then I’d have little to fear.” He says, looking at her with such sincerity.

Damn him. She thinks as her eyes begin to water in delight at his words.

“You make it hard to stay mad at you.” She breathily says with a smile, trying to hold back her tears.

“Good to know.” His smirk leaves Hawke rolling her eyes but with a scoff.

“Hey, don’t push your luck. I won’t allow you to get away with everything you know?” She says lightly slapping his shoulder which makes him let out a grunt in discomfort. Hawke’s eyes widen and she lets out a gasp. “Oh! I’m so sorry are you still in pain?”

“I’m fine. Just still aches a bit.”

“Why didn’t Anders heal you after-“

“I declined his offer.” He answers before she can finish. She gives a look that says she shouldn’t have been surprised by that and then she lets out a long sigh while rubbing her temples.

“Sit down.” Hawke orders quietly while pointing to the log.

“Hawke really I’m fi-“

“I said, sit.” She repeats with her hands now on her hips and an eyebrow raised. He glares in opposition at her for a moment before finally giving in with a sigh and plopping himself down on the old log. Hawke’s face relaxes and with that she kneels down and sits in front of him and begins to rummage through her pouch. “And you wonder why I didn’t allow Anders to do his job today. You won’t even take his help when he offers it.”

Fenris looks in surprise at her confession. “You were-“

“Yes I was keeping you healed so he didn’t have to do it. I know how uncomfortable you are with magic and you seem to only tolerate mine if need be.”

“Hawke I do not need to be coddled. I may not like having to be helped by him if possible but I’m no fool. It’s his duty to keep us alive when he is with us, not you.”

“I know that. But I knew the minute we ran into those blood mages things would turn sour.” She pauses and swears under her breath as her hands still in the bag. “I…I knew one of you would start something after we finished them off and I just…I didn’t want to hear any of it but I knew it was inevitable. So I tried to soften the blow I guess. Just thought if I killed most of them and quickly as well as keep you two from interacting as much as possible, maybe you guys wouldn’t be at each other’s throats.”

“Our bickering upsets you that much?” A remnant of remorse laced in his voice.

“I can deal with bickering Fenris, I had two younger siblings who were as different as the sun and moon. You two don’t bicker.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“I can tolerate a lot but I have my limits like anyone else, Fenris. When I saw you on top of him…and then he hurt you I-I couldn’t take it anymore.” She whimpers out before clearing her throat, making Fenris tense up. He hates hearing her voice crack in anguish.

“I see...” he quietly says not sure if he should try to comfort her again like he did when he held her hand. He was only sure he wished to feel her warm touch again and to see her smile again. This desire was cut short as he heard Hawke’s hands rustling through her back stop with annoyed sigh leaving her lips.

“Dammit…I’m out of potions I must have used them all.” She looks up to see him cocking an eyebrow at her. “Don’t even think about saying what I think you’re going to say, I already know I pushed myself today.”

“I said nothing.” He says defensively yet with a hint of playfulness, showing he meant not to start anything.

“Yes but you had that smug look on your face.” She circles her finger in the air in front of his face. “I’m not tolerating anyone’s sass today if you haven’t noticed.” She finished, leaving him with an ever pompous grin.

“Very well.”

“Good. Now we can do one of two things; either we get back to my place and I give you some potions there or I heal you the old fashion way.” She says while wiggling her fingers in front of her. “You’re choice.”

He can’t help but smile warmly at that. My choice he thinks. There was no way she could grasp just how much it means to him that even when she’s at her limits with him she always gives him a choice. He could not remember a time before meeting her that he was given choices. A choice to reject, a choice to walk away and yet, he desires to show her the faith he has put in her to not harm him.

“Max…” Taking her wrists, he hesitantly places her hands on his aching shoulders. “I trust you.”

She can’t help but stare wide eyed into his mossy green eyes as her cheek become flushed. Her hands, shaky but firm on his arms as she takes in his words of encouragement. I trust you. She had feared she would never gain that from him. She could not hold back a joyful grin. “Well I’m glad… and I trust you too.”

“I-I’m glad as well.” He blushes in return. They stare at each other for a moment till the mood became unbearably awkward.

“I will need my wrists back though if I want to do this properly. Not that I mind you holding me close.” She says with a bewitching smirk spread across her face.

Realizing he was still holding onto her wrists, his face reddens even more and quickly lets go while averting his gaze. “M-my apologies…go ahead.”

She giggles and nods in response before letting go of him so she can hover her fingers, now illuminated in a bluish light, around his arms and shoulders. His body tenses at the first hint of mana, furrowing his brow in the process. She almost stops when she notices his discomfort but he tries gives her a reassuring smile.

“I’m fine Hawke, just get it done quickly. Please.”

“Right, I’m sorry. Try to take some deep breathes, ok?” He nods and breathes in and out at a slow and steady pace. With every breath the pain becomes less and less. He swears it almost begins to feel…calming. Magic has been nothing but pain to him, or at the least a hard pill to swallow but her touch, physical or magical is always so gentle and so thoughtful.

Her hands move smoothly past his shoulders and ghost over his collarbone, making his breath hitch as her fingertips accidentally graze the side of his neck. She pulls back immediately and ends the spell. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-“

“No, no you’re fine! Y-you startled me is all.” Startling…yet not unpleasant. He realizes in thought.

“Oh, good…how’s the pain?” she asked relieved.

Fenris rolls his shoulders and his neck, testing his pain level. Although the pain of the scuffle has now dissipated thanks to Hawke, he feels a dull ache in his markings returning slowly, but this was sadly his reality. Maybe this can never be helped. He thought as he let out a low grumble. “Back to my usual self it seems. Thank you, Hawke.”

“Just doing my job.” She says with a bashful smile which slowly fades. “And…I’m sorry for yelling at you today.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me Hawke. It’s not like I’ve never lost my temper.” He says surprised at her sudden guilt.

“Even so, I could have reacted better. I’ve just been under a lot of stress lately and I haven’t had time to just deal with it you know? And I know I need to make peace that you two just will never be friends. It’s wrong for me to try to change either of you.” She says while wistfully bowing her head and rubs the side of her arm as she still sits in front of him.

“You’re right, we’ll probably always loath each other…but we did come to an agreement that we need to try harder to put our differences aside…for you at least.” Fenris admits sheepishly, making Hawke look up in surprise.

“You did?”

“Yes and I should mention it was his idea. Don’t want him blathering about how he got no credit over this.” He sees her squint at him in annoyance at that. “…that being said I agreed with him because if we had too on one thing, it’d be not wishing to hurt you Hawke.” Fenris says with a sigh, making Hawke begin to grin. It was nice to hear that they were at least willing to try to be better comrades. This could be a good sign.

But if she had learned anything from her family who all had differing views, was that peace only lasted as long as both parties learned to respect each other’s opinions and/or kept their mouths shut over touchy subjects.

Although these principles seemed reasonable for a family that loved each other, it sadly seemed impossible for two men who cared not for each other and believed so strongly the other is an idiot and that their plight was far worse than the others. She wanted to believe their promise was true, she truly did. But they were only words spoken in a moment of guilt.

“I do appreciate that Fenris. Really I do, but I believe in action not words. So forgive me if I hold my breath.” She softly states as she stands.

“You say you trust me yet you doubt my honor to a promise?” He asks earnestly looking up at her.

“It’s not that I don’t believe your word or Anders for that matter. I just don’t wish to get my hopes up. I fear when I do it usually backfires and then I get upset and I don’t wish to have another moment of weakness like I did today just because I got too comfortable with the idea that things will be better if I just hoped. I’m sure you can understand that yes? Not wanting to be disappointed.”

Of course he could. He could never hope for more than he already had, which was very little to begin with. He lived in his old masters abandoned mansion, alone and with very little possessions and even fewer people he could trust in this blighted city. Yet it was more than he ever had. Maybe that is why he stayed, because he truly couldn’t see himself leaving and finding anything better.

He may have not been happy precisely, but he at times felt at home. When he sparred with Aveline in the barracks, had meals with Hawke and at times with her mother and her mabari, when he humored Isabela’s flirting and silly games like guessing what undergarments he was wearing, playing Wicked Grace with everyone, listening to Hawke’s stories of her family, teasing Varric of his harry chest while Varric made fun of his “broodiness”, walking home from a long day with Hawke …Maker, she always seemed to come to mind when recalling why he never desired to leave.

He had to admit, he would miss much of her; her strange persistence to make him feel wanted, how passionately protective she was of her friends, family and even complete strangers. They never would have met if it wasn’t for that.

He’d even miss how her lovely face seemed to light up when he’d enter the room, and of course her rowdy laugh that left a whole room silent in confusion because what in the name of Andraste could be so funny?

He couldn’t help but try to get her to laugh like that and feel an odd sense of pride when he could. Even stupidly feel jealous when someone else got it out of her before he could. In turn she’d try to get him to laugh just as loud. He never did, but it was hard for anyone to top her infectious laugh, yet that never stopped her from trying to get a good giggle fit out of him that made him as red as a rose.

He’d miss how he felt around her…he even dared to think she felt the same near him. But like her, he feared disappointment.

“Yes…I do.” He weakly says as he stands and looks down at her. “and I won’t lie and say my feelings on mages will change and that Anders and I we’ll never argue again if we can help it…but I will promise that I will try to think of your feelings before I speak and I will not harm Anders unless utterly necessary.”

“Define utterly necessary.” She says with arms now crossed.

“He’s physically harming you…or anyone of importance obviously.” He corrects himself last minute, which leaves her smirking at him.

“…Alright, fair enough. I doubt it will ever come to that though.”

“Whatever you say.” He mumbles, rolling his eyes teasingly.

“Fenris.”

“Just my opinion. It’s not like I wish to be right all the time.” he shrugs smugly.

“Ughhh, Maker you’re impossible sometimes.” Hawke says as she leans her head back with a chuckled groan. Fenris smirks down at her. “At least tell me Merrill is one of the people of importance.”

“Hmmm…” he hums in thought as he scratches his chin, but stopping with a devilish grin as he sees Hawke’s growingly miffed face. “Eh, I suppose.” He shrugs.

“…Lean down for me.”

“Excuse me?”

“Lean. Down.” She repeats as she glares at him. Although he glares back in suspicion he stupidly does as he’s told. Once he’s at her eye level she smirks and quickly ruffles his hair, messing it up as well as she can get it before he quickly jerks his head back. “That’s for Merrill!”

“Kaffas woman it was only a jest!” he swears which makes Hawke let out that rowdy laugh that he so enjoys. He can’t help but look at her and begin to grin. “Hmph, satisfied with your dirty work?” he asks as he points at his disheveled snowy white hair.

She looks up as she begins to calm down and then scoffs with a bashful grin. “Hardly! You still look bloody majestic! It’s quite unfair, if my hair gets messed with or is even a little oily it looks dreadful!”

His ears twitch and turn crimson at her compliment. It was never a foreign thing for her to flirt and tell him how attractive she believed him to be, but it always made him flustered. He didn’t believe it himself, but he could not lie, he always enjoyed her flattery.

He shakes off his twitch and carefully strokes his bangs back into place. “Yes well, I don’t think your hair looks dreadful…at least on most occasions.” He swiftly grabs her wrist as her hand darted up trying to mess with his hair once more in retribution for that backhanded compliment. “Truly though…your hair is rather pleasing to the eye.”

She stops playfully struggling from his grip to meet his soft gaze. “Oh? I always found it rather a boring color. It’s not as lovely as yours.” She mumbles as she twists a bit of her locks around her fingers. “Would have at least liked it to have become black like my father’s…”

Fenris hooks the lock of hair between his gauntlet claws, taking the strands from her and feels it slowly run across his scarred fingertips, sending a chill down Hawke’s back at his boldness. “I think it’s a rather lovely shade of brunette.”

“Thank you…it does match your armor.” She nervously grins and she lightly prods at his leather tunic making him gulp in response.

“Uh, yes it appears so...”

It’s painfully quiet as they timidly gawk at one another. Hawke’s hand rests just above Fenris’s armored chest. She can feel how fast his heart races under her touch but before she can ask if he’s alright, Fenris’s gaze quickly shifts towards the sun that has almost fully set now. It’s disappointing when he looks away but she looks in his direction and sees just how late it has become. They could now hear the crickets beginning to chirp and cool breeze swirled their way, huddling Fenris closer to Hawke for warmth, much to her delight. He still wasn’t fully use to the cold of the Free Marches which makes her wonder if he’d even last a day in Fereldon.

“W-we should hurry back to High Town. It’s scarcely considered safe here during the day, it can only get worse with night fall.”

“True enough…you also seem cold.” She teasingly smirks up at him. He realizes just how close he is too her, as his chest grazing hers and his hand now resting on her shoulder.

He takes his hand away and takes a step back, rubbing his palms across his arms for warmth. “It’s not my fault I wasn’t born with ice in veins like you.”

“Is that a quip on me being a mage or Fereldon born?”

“Hmm, I suppose both works in this case.” He responds, leaving her rolling her eyes but biting her lip to hid her smile.

“I suppose so. Alright lets head out…Maker mother must be furious.” Hawke whines like a pup as she picks up her pouch and staff.

“If it helps I can accompany you and explain why you were out so late.” He offers as he also gets his weapon and puts it in its sheath.

“Oh so you can tell my mother I had a mental break down in front of everyone? Yeah, no thank you. Besides I don’t want her upset with you. She likes you and I doubt you wish to break my poor mother’s heart now do you?” she asks, batting her eyes up at him. Lady Leandra could be a bit much at times but he did enjoy being on her good side, even if meant putting up with how she’d pinch his cheeks on occasion, her cooking and kind words were worth it.

“Fair point, still if I can help in any way I’d be happy to for you Hawke. It’s the least I can do to make up for today.”

“You sure you’re not just checking to see if there are any sweets waiting at home for me that you can steal?” Hawke smirks up at him.

“Can both be my intent?” Fenris asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Pfft, sure why not.” She snorts. “Come on sass master, hopefully my mother will go easy on us and I can treat you to whatever in the kitchen and maybe a glass of wine.” She says as she tugs at the top of his breastplate, steering him towards the trail back to Kirkwall.

He bashfully smiles as he stumbles for a second before finding his footing again and stands close to Hawke’s side as they begin to take their long stroll back to the Amell Mansion. “I’ll try not to overstay my welcome.”

Don’t think that’s possible. She thought with a warm smile. “Please I’m sure mother will beg you to take the guest room for the night for your safety.”

“She does know I’ve lived in Hightown longer than even you, right?” he asks in an amused tone.

“And that you can tear a person’s heart out, yet she still insists on coddling you worse than I do.” Hawke says with a shrug.

“Ah, so that’s where you get it from.” He wickedly says knowing this will irk her.

“Oh how dare you.” She gasps, making him giggle at her wide eye and mouth expression.

“Nothing wrong with that, Leandra is a fine woman.”

“I know but I am trying to be my own person you know.” She huffs.

“You are…and I rather enjoy the person I’ve had the pleasure of knowing.” He says as he looks straight forward, not daring to look down at her.

“…You mean that?” peering up at him coyly. It’s too dark to see but he is blushing as he feels her eyes on him.

“Well, you do annoy me the least out of our comrades.” He jests, trying to lighten the heaviness of what he just admitted.

“Oh you know how to make a girl feel special Fenris.” She says sarcastically but does let out a chuckle to show she doesn’t mind him changing the mood back to humorous.

“So I’ve been told.” He shrugs with a smirk that melts quickly. “…but in all seriousness, yes Hawke. I mean it.”

“Ah, good. I uh, have more than enjoyed your companionship…even when you can be a jerk.” She says bumping into him lightly with her elbow.

“I should take offense to that last bit.”

“I could have said far worse.” She states with a wink.

“Lucky me then.” He grins down at her and she smiles brightly back before looking forward. As she looks on he can’t help but glance at her now and then to see if she’s still well. Every time he did, she seemed fine but he wonders if her expression is just a mask to hide her true expression. “Max?”

“Y-yes Fenris?” she looks up with flushed cheeks as she hears her name leave his lips.

“I… am sorry for upsetting you.” He says gloomily.

“I know Fenris…and I’m sorry too.”

“You-“

“I won’t accept yours if you don’t accept mine.” She interrupts as she stops in front of him and holds her index finger up to his face. Fenris may have been stubborn, but Hawke could be as well.

“…As you wish. You are forgiven.” He sighs while rolling his eyes.

“As are you.” She says while booping his nose, making his ears flatten and face scrunch in both annoyance and amusement. He squints his eyes down at her, making her laugh again before she turns away and begins walking again. She does not catch the smile that grows on his face while he rubs the spot on his nose she had touched when she turns.

By the time they got back to the Amell Mansion, the moon had been illuminating the raven colored sky for quite some time now. As they entered the estate, Hawke’s Mabari, Axel, barked up a storm at their return alerting Lady Leandra her eldest had finally made her way home. She scolded her child while hugging her tightly as Axel bounced around the three of them, begging for his own attention which Fenris heavily sighed and patted the big oaf on the head while he waited for Leandra to be done talking. Once she made her point, she turned happily to Fenris and thanked him for keeping her darling daughter safe, as he always did.

Like Hawke said she would, she insisted Fenris stay, get cleaned up, eat and spend the night if he wanted. He declined staying for too long but could not say no to the chilled apple pie that awaited Hawke’s arrival. Leandra’s only rule was they take the wet washcloths she had ready for them and clean up before they tracked any blood into the rest of the manor.

After they hastily wiped themselves down, Leandra settled them in the kitchen with a big serving of pie, which they thanked her for and with that she kissed her daughter on the head and pinched Fenris's cheek before leaving them be so she could finally get some sleep, no longer having to worry if her last surviving daughter was safe. She was grateful for the friends Maxine had made in Kirkwall, mostly Fenris who her daughter talked about the most.

When Leandra left, Fenris and Hawke sat in the kitchen, eating the cold but delicious pie with a bottle of wine Hawke snuck out of the cellar and enjoyed each other’s company till Hawke’s eyelids began to grow heavy. Seeing that as his cue to leave, he thanked her for hospitality and said he’d make up for the now empty bottle of wine which she graciously declines with a yawn. They say goodnight at the door of the Estate, and Hawke watches him leave till he’s out of sight. When he looks back she gives him a coy wave that he returns with a awkward smile and can’t help but blush when he turns away.

When Hawke awoke the next morning, she came downstairs to her mother saying Fenris came by and dropped off a bottle of Aggregio Pavali.

“Such a sweet lad isn’t he?” he mother said happily as she handed the bottle to her.

“Yeah…” more like stubborn lad…but he is sweet all the same. “He is.” She finishes as she looks at the bottle and smiles.

#fenhawke #fenris #maxine hawke #fenris x maxine hawke #fenris/f!hawke #cutieink #dragon age #dragon age 2 #dragon age fanfiction #anders #varric tethras #leandra hawke #angst and fluff #sass #pinning #pre relationship

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