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scurvgirl · 4 years

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More Tonlen x Oisin :)

Oisin, Einin, and Ardal belong to @lillotte17

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Every fifty years, the best bakers of Elvhenan come together to create the Great Bake. It’s a festival that’s meant to showcase the different baking styles and abilities of the different bakers in the empire. It’s a unifying festival, and each gathering takes place in a different territory’s capital, rotating from Mythal, to Elgar’nan, to now Dirthamen, Andruil, Sylaise, Ghilan’nain, June, and now Mana’din.

Ileth has been a baker for quite some time, but this is only his second Great Bake. It’s a privilege to be invited to partake in the festival, and in truth, he considers himself a smaller baker. He tends to shy from catering to the more opulent occasions and particularly anything involving one of the leaders. He’s been introduced to the lady Sylaise on more than one occasion, mostly as a child, and he feels he would be best to not disgrace her presence as an adult. His mismatched eyes, perpetually frizzed hair, and general untidiness is unfashionable and off-putting. Being a baker has suited him so much more than being the music hall manager in the Pleasure District.

To be invited to the Great Bake is to be recognized for his art, and baking is an art. There is a specific sort of finesse and knowledge involved, and gives him the ability to create something that can be enjoyed without him having to be seen. His form is softer, and his clothes are more common. He’s cut his hair to a more manageable length, and he hardly ever bothers with painting his face anymore.

Ileth enjoys his work, and he enjoys being recognized for it beyond his looks or his parentage. To be invited to the Great Bake is a high honor, and this time, it’s in Daran.

He’s positively ecstatic to be going to Daran. Firstly, he’s never been to Daran and he does enjoy going to a new place. Secondly, he gets to see his baby brother who isn’t much of a baby anymore, but still. It’s been such a long while since he’s seen Tonlen. They’ve written like good brothers and he is aware of some of the goings on in his life, but Ileth hasn’t seen him and he misses him.

Upon entry to Daran, he quickly guides his cart to the inn designated for bakers of his station and leaves his apprentice to the task of getting the cart properly set with the rooms. He has a brother to go see.

It’s getting to be late in the afternoon, but the streets are still filled with bustling people. Ileth can’t help but be amazed at the diversity of the people - in terms of looks and dress. His lady Sylaise appreciates an uniformity to aesthetics, and firmly believes that her citizens should carry out said aesthetic. There are certainly positions under her where one can avoid having to conform to the extremes of the seasonable aesthetics, such as Ileth’s own baking position, but there is still an expectation of a certain level of stylishness. Daran’s people are diverse, and there are those who are on-trend, the vast majority of people appear to be wearing whatever they please. The colors don’t seem to be as rigidly regulated either. It’s...quite amazing really.

Ileth meanders through Daran’s streets, enjoying the scenery for some time before coming across what could only be Tonlen’s shop. Elegant Steps - Custom Couture Footwear is painted across an awning in flowing gold script against a deep blue background. Sandals and open-toed heels dominate the window displays, though there is a pair of extravagant pearlescent boots that scream “Tonlen made me!”

Ileth opens the door, a small bell announcing his arrival to the store.

“Welcome to Elegant Steps - Custom Couture Footwear by Tonlen, most recently of Arlathan! How can we serve you?” A cheerful assistant chirps from behind the desk.

Ileth gives her a big smile, “My name is Ileth, and I’m actually looking for Tonlen himself. He’s my little brother, is he in?”

“Oh! I’ll go see, he’s probably in the workshop working on a commission.” The assistant ducks into the back, leaving Ileth to peruse the store. It’s a lovely shop, full of Tonlen’s creativity and love for finery. He even notices some lower priced, but still quality, footwraps. Ileth touches one of the wraps, feels the warmth of a sturdy enchantment. He always had a knack for enchantment, like Papae. His thoroughness and reliability earned him trust and respect in Arlathan, and truthfully, Ileth had expected him to remain in Arlathan, under Sylaise’s purview. His trade to Mana’din, and subsequent transfer to Daran, came quite as the surprise.

The back door opens and out steps Tonlen, dressed more plainly than usual. He likely meant to spend the entire day in his workshop then.

“Ileth! It’s so good to see you!” Tonlen exclaims, a bright smile lighting up his features. Ileth’s eyes widen at the change, but welcome change it is! Ileth moves forward and pulls his brother into a tight hug.

“TonTon! My baby brother, I am so happy to see you too!”

Tonlen pulls back, a frown now pulling at his features, “You know I loathe that name.”

“But it’s adorable!”

“I’m over three hundred years old, Ileth.”

“Still my baby brother. Now! Show me everything you’re working on, I haven’t seen your work in some time.”

“Oh I’m sure you have, you just didn’t know it because you were too busy staring into every customer’s eyes and not at their feet.”

“You wound me, brother!”

“Hardly.” They continue to banter as Tonlen guides him through the shop and even takes Ileth back to the workshop to show him the set of shoes he’s working on for the Daran Dance Company.

“I’m enchanting the taps to make different musical notes when struck properly. It’s quite complex, but good work. The whole set should be finished in two months, in time for the winter recital for when one of Mana’din’s attendants will be married.”

“Tonlen, that’s amazing! What a commission.”

Tonlen beams and puffs his chest out a bit, “It is! My current ambition is to be designing shoes for Mana’din’s attendants or advisors in two years time.”

“Only two years, goodness. You are ambitious, Tonlen, be careful not to fly too close to the sun.”

Tonlen chuckles, “No need to worry, Ileth. Mana’din’s courts are nothing like Sylaise’s. I do not fear the attention of the court for my work in the slightest, in fact, I welcome it. I’ve already commissioned for the Spymaster and their family.”

Ileth laughs, “You waste no time at all! I wish you well in your endeavors. Have you taken an apprentice? I know you were thinking of it in Arlathan.”

Tonlen nods, “Yes, in the next year. I need to take one if I am going to really accelerate this progress. I’ve a request for one, we’ll see when it turns up. I know I was brought on because there was actually a shortage of cobblers in Daran, so I am unsure how quickly this will actually happen.” Which means in the meantime, Tonlen is overly ambitious and overworked. Still, he seems remarkably happy, happier even than when he was in Arlathan.

“Come, I’ll change and then we can go out for dinner. My friend Dignity is a chef at a nearby restaurant, you’ll like it.”

Ileth agrees and waits while Tonlen and his assistant, Elsalin, close up the shop for the day. Afterwards, he follows Tonlen back to his apartment and he eagerly snoops around while Tonlen changes into something a bit more appropriate for going out. To his credit, he goes as quickly as he can. Still, Tonlen is fussy about his appearance, always wanting to be as perfect and posh as possible. No matter, Ileth takes the opportunity to inspect the apartment.

It’s a small place, smaller even than the apartment he had in Arlathan. Ileth frowns at that, a smaller apartment in a less renowned city - this was a downgrade for Tonlen, clearly. No wonder he is so ambitious to climb as highly as possible. Ileth wonders if he is able to wear some of the higher ordered colors and clothes he had enjoyed in Arlathan. Mana’din isn’t nearly as strict as Sylaise in these matters, but there is still a hierarchy to observe. And yet, despite this fact, Tonlen seems so happy.

Ileth walks the small apartment, enjoying all the little touches Tonlen’s added to indicate it’s his home. Like most apartments, it’s essentially one large rectangle that is then subdivided into spaces for different things. The bedroom and water closet are at the front of the apartment, close to the entrance, providing a hallway that opens up to an open area with a living space to the right and a dining space to the left. Along the side of the apartment is a balcony, running from the bedroom to the living space, letting in the beautiful afternoon light.

The only semblance of disorder is a desk that is shoved into the far right hand corner of the living area. The desk is piled with papers, a waste basket positioned next to the desk is filled with even more crinkled papers. A stack of books sits on top of the desk, inkwells and quills wait to be used - some of which are dried up and have yet to be thrown away. Upon further inspection, Ileth can see this is where Tonlen does the majority of his brainstorming for new designs. The papers are all notes and sketches, and they’re organized in a strange, but meticulous way.

There is one paper, however, that has no sketch, and the script in the center of the page is too fine and purposeful to be a scribbled note. Curious, Ileth leans forward to read it -

Each morning, I wake from dreams

Of you.

I dress myself in clothes

I hope you find fine.

I break my fast wishing to share it

With you.

I open my door and wish every time

I see you.

Each piece of leather,

Each strip of cloth

I touch I wish were

Your hands,

Your hair,

Your lips.

Never far from my mind,

Always in my heart.

Darlings never wish to part,

But I never feel far from you

When all that I do and all that I see

Wish

And feel

Is you.

I wish to believe my poetry has improved to better impress upon my utmost adoration. Alas, the words I find are never quite sufficient. I am a physical man, my darling, words have never been my forte.

With all my heart and more,

Tonlen

Ileth raises a brow and tries not to snort at the poem. It is certainly...clear, if not overwrought and sappy. His brother - a sap! Clearly whoever he is courting -

Oh, he’s courting! The shock hits Ileth with wondrous joy. It’s been so long since Tonlen has courted someone! Or has been courted! There had been offers in the years after Lithadra, but Tonlen had spurned them all, choosing instead to focus on his craft and self (at least that’s what he told Ileth). But he clearly has not spurned whoever this letter is intended for.

Ileth wonders who it might be. It seems so improbable that his brother would find an unfashionable Daran native to be attractive, but stranger things have happened. Perhaps an unfashionable person is exactly the person Tonlen needs - it would certainly be different from that prancing Lithadra and his absurd excess and overly honeyed words. Ileth should be kinder, Tonlen loved Lithadra very much, but if he’s honest...he was never fond of the fellow. Hindsight is perfect and all that but it’s true! Lithadra was (or is, Ileth supposes since the man is still up and about, prancing and dancing and banging anything that moves) Arlathan to the core - beautiful and lovely, all the while terrible and deeply heartbreaking.

When Tonlen and Lithadra finally severed themselves, Tonlen had been so hurt. He was a shell of himself for so long. Ileth understands that, being alone after being decidedly not alone is difficult. Ileth has longed for many people, many many people, though his actual courtships are few and far between. He is an odd sort, prone to fits of insomnia, melancholy, and anxiety. Frankly, he’s gotten good at being alone, but Tonlen had companionship for years and then it unraveled like a favorite knit sweater, pulled apart by forces it could no longer resist.

This letter, as terrible it might, gives Ileth hope that Tonlen is finally moving on, finally letting himself be happy.

“Alright, I’m ready. I have an extra robe if you would like to change into something...not as travel worn.” Tonlen says, looking pointedly at Ileth’s tan robe. He rolls his eyes.

“I look fine, let’s go.”

“I’ll never understand why you will settle for looking fine, when extraordinary is always an option.” Ileth rolls his eyes. His brother, ever so dramatic. Arlathan fit him, but Ileth would dare say being the fanciest fish in the pond fits him much better.

They set off into town, filling the space between them with talk about their respective businesses, what they’ve been reading - Tonlen telling of his fondness of mysteries, while Ileth waxes on his latest romance serial. He doesn’t press Tonlen about his paramour, Tonlen will tell him when he’s ready.

The restaurant Tonlen takes them to is a smaller place, but darling and cozy. They’re taken to a seat quickly and handed a single page of a menu. There are five main dishes to choose from, plus three different appetizers, and then a modest drink selection. They place their orders, Ileth selecting a summer roast with a selection of vegetables. Tonlen opts for a potato based dish that sounds quite specific to the region. Ileth indulges in ordering a nicer stout beer, dark and robust that has Tonlen wrinkling his nose.

“I don’t know how you stand to drink that.”

“Ah yes, you and your wines.”

“Now cider, as well, the apple orchards produce quite a nice brew.” He takes a sip of his summer wine and Ileth laughs.

“Daran has changed you, brother, but I like it. You seem happier.”

Tonlen’s face relaxes into a smile, as if he’s been doing it more these days, the new lines of Mana’din complimenting his expression. “I am. As odd as it is, I am happier.” He seems about to expand upon that thought when his eyes glance up and a light fills them.

“Tonlen?” Asks a voice positioned behind Ileth. He turns in his chair to see a tall person, cornsilk blonde hair braided into loops at the back of his head, blue eyes bright, surrounded by a sea of freckles - and he is smiling at Tonlen.

“Oisin!” Tonlen replies, standing at once and moving to greet this Oisin. Ileth watches, leaning into the shadows perhaps a bit much to conceal the difference in his eyes as much as possible.

Oisin’s eyes flick to Ileth for a moment, then his focus is on Tonlen, all smiles and excitement.

“I did not know you were in the city!”

“Einin and I were doing a bit of shopping, she complained that every time I run off to the city, it’s to see you.”

“I do not complain,” at her words, Ileth takes notice of the much shorter redheaded woman standing beside Oisin. Her hair is elegantly plaited, her dress cut to flatter a figure with more curves, but Oisin’s robe is decidedly more of a dress than even a robe.

“I do not mean to monopolize him,” Tonlen chuckles.

“Oh please, monopolize me,” Oisin flirts and Tonlen gets a wicked smile on his face. Ileth arches a brow, is this the focus of Tonlen’s affections? He’s a beautiful sort, definitely the kind of person Ileth could see Tonlen appreciating aesthetically.

Tonlen glances at Ileth then gestures, “You’re welcome to dine with us. This is my elder brother, Ileth. He is a baker in the greenlands of Samihlan for the Lady Sylaise. Ileth, this is Oisin and Einin. Oisin is apprenticed to a painter in Daran and Einin is apprenticed to a merchant.”

“Your brother!” Oisin exclaims, relief evident in his voice.

Ileth laughs, “I know, there is hardly any resemblance save for the nose. It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” He puts on his most charming smile. Oisin returns the smile while Einin looks on, curious.

“Yes, it’s so nice to finally meet you! Tonlen says the best things about your bread and pastries. Are you in town for the Great Bake?” Oisin asks as Tonlen sets about working with the host to set up another table pressed up against theirs to accommodate their guests.

“Yes, I am. You’re all welcome to visit me in my tent if you wish to partake in some of my wilder creations I will be making for the festival.” The Great Bake isn’t exactly a competition, but more of a showcase, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a competitive spirit between the bakers. Whoever’s stand is the most appreciated by the attendees, the more prestigious the stand - and honestly the higher the likelihood that the baker will be invited for the next Great Bake.

“Thank you, we’ll bring our brother, Ardal, as well,” Einin says, picking up her menu.

“All are welcome! Especially friends of Tonlen’s.” He takes a sip of his beer, but when he looks up, Oisin’s face is troubled. He glances to Einin to see a very pleasant expression that could only be concealing rage - he’s from Arlathan, he knows.

Tonlen looks pale and his focus is on Oisin.

“Oisin, I -

“Does he not know about me?” Oisin asks quietly. Oh, oh dear.

Before Tonlen can respond, Ileth does, “Tonlen is a secretive person, he likes to keep his matters to himself.”

But rather than diffusing the situation, Oisin simply looks more upset, “You wanted to keep me a secret?” Tonlen grimaces at Oisin’s soft, devastating question.

“No, darling, that...that is not what I meant to do.”

“Oisin is wonderful, and does not deserve to be a secret,” Einin says, her presence suddenly much larger than her actual form, her voice brooking no quarter. Ileth glances between them and feels his stomach drop.

“No of course not, I…”

“It’s because of the shifting, isn’t it? You said it wasn’t an issue but your brother doesn’t even know who I am.” They were all now talking faster than Ileth could interject, clearly referencing things he had no idea about.

“It isn’t an issue! Your shifting is beautiful, a beautiful part of you. That isn’t -

“Then what is it? What about me is so horrible that you can’t even talk about me to your family?”

“Oisin, we’re leaving.”

“No! I want him to...to tell me himself.” Tears start to leak out of Oisin’s eyes and Ileth feels very much like he should not be at this table.

“Nothing! I adore all of you.”

“Answer him, now,” Einin growls.

There is a pregnant pause, Tonlen looking pained. His eyes fall on Ileth, and Ileth suddenly knows why - and Tonlen can’t even say it, still.

“Tonlen’s previous relationship was quite public and it ended...not well. It hurt Tonlen a great deal. If I were to hazard a guess, he wanted to keep things less public for fear of what happened previously. I misspoke - Tonlen is not secretive, but private.” Ileth keeps his voice low and measured, using a method he used to use in Arlathan when he was having to explain an unfortunate situation to a higher up manager.

Tonlen stares at the table, his emotions pulled close in to himself, shielding himself. Oisin’s focus was entirely on Tonlen.

“I don’t want to be kept secret,” Oisin says and Tonlen nods.

“You don’t deserve to be,” Tonlen replies, unable to hide the sadness in his voice.

Oisin takes a deep breath, “I can’t be a secret.” I can’t be with someone who will keep me a secret. The meaning was clear as day.

Before Tonlen can reply, Oisin and Einin stand.

“It was nice meeting you, Ileth. Good luck with the baking,” Oisin mumbles, manners unforgotten. Ileth returns the sentiment, watching them leave in shock. He turns his attention back to Tonlen, his brother holding his face in his hands.

“Ton?” He murmurs.

“Not..let’s just eat.”

The dinner is short, quiet, and awkward. Ileth and Tonlen are less than a century apart, and Ileth didn’t leave Arlathan until Tonlen was well into his teens. Even then, Ileth was around at every free day he had, and their parents took holiday in Samihlan whenever possible. Ileth made it a point to write to Tonlen at least every two weeks to establish a good correspondence between the two of them. This awkwardness is unlike them, even when they’ve fallen into silences, it’s been companionable. Now there is a secret out and no one wants to approach the subject.

The walk back to Tonlen’s apartment is just as quiet, and by the time Tonlen’s door closes, Ileth is fed up with it.

“Was I right that you didn’t tell me, or our parents, about Oisin because of Lithadra?”

Tonlen turns from Ileth, “Yes. No...yes, but that isn’t just it. Part of it is Oisin. His gender is fluid and that is just a part of who he is, I know you and our parents are fine with that, but I didn’t want to invite any...prying into him.”

“That’s a bullshit reason.”

“Also, he is just over a century - Ileth, he is so young. This is his first courtship and I didn’t want to put any undue expectations on him. I wanted him to lead this, give him a romance he can control and...dammit, what did I do?” Tonlen collapses onto a chair, head buried in his hands.

Ileth quirks an eyebrow at his little brother, shocked, “You know what I hear a lot of? Fear. What are you afraid of, Ton?”

Tonlen shakes his head as if refusing to answer. Ileth crosses his arms and stares. Finally, Tonlen gives in.

“He’s so good, and he’s learning, and is so different from Lithadra. All wonderful things, and I wonder...with my baggage and my needs, am I enough? I wasn’t enough for Lithadra, how could I be enough for Oisin? If I introduce him to you, to Mamae and Papae, as the object of my affections - then that is undeniable. And when it comes to an end because I’m not enough, then it’s Lithadra all over again.”

Oh his poor brother. Ileth pulls a chair over to Tonlen, and takes his brother’s hands in his.

“Listen to me, Ton. Oisin is not Lithadra, therefore, it cannot be Lithadra again. Has Oisin said he wants multiple partners?” Tonlen shakes his head no and makes a move to protest, but Ileth continues, “Then you cannot know. You are scaring yourself with things that may not even be real. You know what can solve this? Talking to Oisin, asking him what he wants and going from there. And if he doesn’t think you’re enough, that’s his loss. You deserve someone who loves you as you are, who never questions if you are enough - because you are.” Do you ever get over your ex, Ileth wonders. Or does their influence continue throughout your life like some cloud that is forever tied to you? Looking at Tonlen’s worn face that had been so skillfully painted, now smudged at the edges by Tonlen’s hands, Ileth doubted if true distance was possible.

“Take the day off tomorrow and come with me to the Great Bake,” Ileth offers but Tonlen shakes his head.

“My next rest day is in three days, though. I’ll join you then.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

Ileth leaves shortly after that. Tonlen wants to be left to his thoughts and the days of traveling have worn on Ileth. He returns to his inn and heads to bed.

The next few days are a flurry of activity of getting everything ready for the Great Bake. He has cookies, breads, cakes, and more to bake. His apprentice, Pahlera, is kept busy with the smaller baked items such as the cookies, muffins, and cupcakes, while Tonlen focuses on the show-stoppers.

Three days later, the Great Bake is in full swing. Tonlen arrives at Ileth’s stall fairly early, pilfering a croissant for his breakfast. The festival doesn’t warrant shutting the city down like many other festivals, but many are given half-days during the festival to come and enjoy.

Ileth is busy with one of the grander cakes when Tonlen rushes into the back of the tent where Ileth is.

“I just saw Oisin and his family,” he says quickly.

“Well, go to him! Apologize!” Ileth admonishes but Tonlen just stands there, looking exceptionally freaked out.

“His family -

“I’ll be right back.” Ileth is out of the tent in no-time, quickly spotting Oisin and his - no, their - family. Ileth makes a beeline for them, minding the crowds. He’s covered in flour and chocolate, among other stains, but he doesn’t care. He can’t help but feel partly responsible for how this all happened. He should have brought up the letter before dinner - then he would have known about Oisin and none of this would have happened.

“Oisin!” He calls, not caring much for decorum. Oisin goes turns, and so do several other people. Ileth’s eyes widen, and he understands Tonlen’s fear much more clearly now. Oisin’s family is not large, no, that is an understatement. Oisin’s family is gigantic. Two other towering blondes, two shorter blondes, Einin, and another dark-haired person all turn around at Ileth’s call.

Well, he’s in it now. Shoving his fear to the side, Ileth strides forward.

“Oisin, who is this?” One of the towering blondes, the woman, asks - sharp green eyes taking him in with clear distaste at his disheveled form. An Arlathan type, outside of Arlathan - lovely.

“My name is Ileth - Oisin, please listen. My brother isn’t perfect, but no one is. He made a mistake, but it wasn’t out of mistreatment of you but out of fear. The past isn’t so easily overcome, and no, I did not come here out of his wishes. In fact, I think he’d rather me stay out of - but too bad, I’m a nosy older brother, and before that dinner, I knew he was happier than he’d been in decades.”

“He needs his brother to speak for him?” The blonde continues, sneering, “The coward can’t even speak to you himself -

“Please do not call my brother a coward. His previous relationship was difficult in ways I am not at liberty to say -

Everyone starts speaking at once, everyone except for Oisin who looks quite confused and sad. As their family got louder, debating on what should be done, the smaller they seem. Ileth tries to interject, hating how their family discussed Tonlen, but they were all too well versed on the rhythm of their debates that Ileth can’t get a word in edgewise.

He’s about to leave them all to it when Tonlen appears beside him, amazingly out of notice of the arguing family. He reaches a hand out to Oisin.

“May I speak to you? In private?” Tonlen says, so softly that Ileth wonders if Oisin heard him. But their eyes are only for him.

Oisin’s face is clear with conflict. But they take his hand, and Tonlen quickly maneuvers them through the crowd and into Ileth’s tent.

Pahlera is minding the front, distributing the pastries. She eyes Tonlen and he can only imagine how she views this entire situation. Truly he can’t understand much of it either. He’s made a mess of things. He’s hurt Oisin, the one thing he has never wanted, never set to do, and here he is, draggin Oisin into the back of a tent to apologize for hurting them.

“Enough,” Oisin murmurs, pulling from Tonlen’s grasp. Their voice isn’t particularly strong, but the sheer act of pulling from him...it hurts.

“I’m a private person as my brother said, but that doesn’t excuse not telling the world about us. My heart is fullest when with you and I wish to continue to court you because...because you are you and I don’t want to hide you or us and I am rambling. Oisin, I want you to meet my brother more formally. I want you to meet my parents, and my Arlathan friends who cannot leave the city to come see me. You are not a secret - the secret is that I am afraid and now that isn’t a secret.” He is rambling and is so afraid, but he cannot lose Oisin to this stupidity of his.

So close to love he might as well be in it. The words dangle on his tongue, to be left unsaid until he knows he is enough.

“Do you truly feel this way or are you saying this because...because you want to bed me?”

It’s like a slap to the face. Tears spring to his eyes, “I suppose I deserve that, but Oisin I would never...of all my sins, I have never lied to you. My feelings for you are true.”

They purse their lips, “Vir said that one last night, she’s really mad.”

“I figured.”

Oisin steps forward and takes Tonlen’s hands, “My heart hurts. I know I am not fashionable like the lovers you have had in Arlathan, but I don’t want to be a secret.”

“Damned be the lovers I’ve had in Arlathan, for all their fashion they were not...they did not bring me as much joy and happiness as you have. Oh, darling Oisin, please forgive me, I cannot bear you to be mad at me.” He doesn’t care he is begging, doesn’t care that he is barely restraining himself now.

Before Oisin can respond, Tonlen is speaking again, “Come with me to Arlathan. I have a trip planned in six weeks to see my parents and to pay a visit to some of the fashion houses to stay current with my craft. Come with me, let me show you where I’m from, and let me show you off to my friends because darling you are worth showing off. I want you to meet my parents, who will adore you because you make me happy. What do you say?”

Their eyes widen and an incredulous smile overtakes their face, tears once more springing to them. “Yes! Tonlen, yes!”

They come together in a deep kiss, no emotional barriers between them because they don’t need them. Tonlen kisses them and lets them feel all the emotions he cannot yet say.

#tonlen #oisin #tonlen x oisin #ileth #clusterfuck au #einin #fic #my writing

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lillotte17 · 6 years

Text

Oisin and Tonlen first smooches!! <3 tagging @scurvgirl and @feynites for OC borrowing. :)

Oisin wakes up well before dawn, both to ensure that she has enough time to make all the necessary preparations for the day, in an effort to get the bath all to herself, for once. Not that she dislikes bathing with her siblings, but there is almost always a squabble over what temperature it should be set to and what scent to use in the water, whether they should pick bubbles or bath oils; that sort of thing. It is the sort of family bickering in which Oisin inevitably finds herself almost immediately overrun, while the more boisterous members of her family dig their heels in and refuse to surrender any ground. Normally, she does not mind, but today is special.

She is going to see Tonlen today, and she wants everything to be perfect.

They have been courting for almost a year and a half now, and Oisin finds Tonlen just as charming and handsome as she did the first day he spoke to her in his shop. They do not get to see each other half as often as she would like, and someone from her family is almost always hovering in close proximity when they do, but they have at least managed to keep up a healthy correspondence. Which has mercifully remained private from her parents’ prying eyes.

At least…she hopes it has. Oisin feels like she would die of mortification if anyone in her family had ever read some of the warmer sentiments that have passed between herself and her paramour.

Unfortunately, sentiments are nearly all that has been passed between them thus far. In the form of courtship gifts, lingering touches, and a heated glance now and then. All of those things are lovely, of course, and Oisin is by no means complaining about any of the attention that Tonlen has lavished her with thus far. As far as a first courtship goes, it has been absolutely perfect -despite the constant hovering of her parents.

She just…really wants Tonlen to kiss her.

Oisin understands that between her inexperience with romance and the concerns of her family, Tonlen is being cautious. Taking things slowly and taking more traditional routes than most couples do nowadays. She does not mind it, for the most part, but she does think that after a year, it is probably alright to be kissing each other.

Assuming that Tonlen wants to kiss her.

She is fairly certain that he does, though. He has said as much in words and flashes of heat in the emotions around him when they are together. And there had been a few moments here and there where she had been sure it was going to happen, and then one of her family members had interrupted. Oisin just needs to make sure that she is irresistible today. And that they actually get to be alone.

One feat is much more easily managed than the other.

Oisin perfumes the bath with an orchid soap, a cool fresh scent -also one of Tonlen's favorite flowers- and lets it soak into her skin. Luxuriating in the warm water and trying to locate a bit of calm to carry with her for the day. She washes her hair with expensive conditioner that Papae bought her in Arlathan and brushes it until it shines like a wave of spun gold. It takes her over an hour to get through the whole routine; creamy lotions, delicate paints for her nails, and a gentle exfoliant for her face to brighten her complexion. It will not hide her freckles, but Tonlen has never mentioned anything about finding them objectionable, so they are probably fine.

The next step is clothing. Tonlen is a very meticulous dresser, having lived so long among the flashy city-types in Arlathan, and requiring a knowledge of fashion trends to ply his trade. Oisin usually relies on her sisters for advice on how to dress. She finds too many things beautiful to keep track of what has fallen out of favor with the trend-setters. They are going to be out in the woods today, though, so she also needs something practical. Stylish and practical do not often go hand in hand.

It had taken a good deal of sweet talking, along with some forward charm from Mealla, and some subtle bargaining from Einin -which she still denies doing- but Oisin has managed to procure two harts for the day. At a reasonable price, no less. Most of the animals in Bel'thyl are used for farm work, there is no sense or need to keep animals for recreational purposes. Even the elves that hunt in the village usually do so on foot or in animal form. These harts belong to the town magistrate, and are usually only called to work when some rare visiting dignitary needs to be shown around without having to fret about stepping in ox dung.

Going for a ride had been Oisin's idea, as it is one of the few physical activities she excels at. It would have been much more romantic to ride a pair of halla, of course, but Tonlen does not have clearance to learn about Mana'Din's Hidden Estate, and it would attract far too much attention to bring any of Mamae's herd to Daran or Bel'thyl. Neither of them are the proper rank to ride halla yet, and Mana'Din only officially has one of them. A magnanimous gift from the Lady Ghilan'nain. Someday Oisin hopes she can take Tonlen to meet the rest of them, though. They are a marvel to behold, and Oisin always feels calm around them. More certain of themselves. She would like to share that with someone she loves. It would be so lovely to lie in the grass together, watching the halla graze and telling him all the stories about them and the Dalish elves from other worlds that Aili and Lavellan had told them when she was little.

But today she must content herself with a pair of harts and a long ride out into the woods.

She chooses a bright peachy pink as the color of the day. Her riding coat is a more feminine cut than some of her other clothing, accentuating the narrowness of her shoulders and her slim waist. It is a soft suede, patterned with a small floral print, and it seamlessly flows into a creamy knee-length skirt with just enough of a slit up one side to give a tantalizing glimpse of her legs as she walks and can easily be moved out of the way while she rides. At the last minute, she decides that a pair of leggings are in order, to reduce the risk of chafing her thighs against the saddle, and to appease her Papae if he should happen to catch sight of her before she manages to escape for the day.

Oisin twirls once in front of her mirror, pleased with the effect of all the swishing fabric. It is early spring, and she looks a little like a blossom that escaped its bough. Her boots are a little plain, and she can only manage to get her hair into a simple braid on her own, but she thinks her appearance is pleasing enough. Definitely kissable.

Hopefully.

It is still a few hours before Tonlen is supposed to meet her, but Oisin thinks it might be better to leave now. Before any nosy siblings and fretting parents are up and about. Nenae is still in Daran on business, and Nanae asked Mamae to stay in their room last night, which usually means a slow morning for both of them the next day. And Papae sleeps like a rock. So, with any small amount of luck, she will be able to slip out the door without bothering anyone. And perhaps, just once, she can be truly alone with the man who is courting her.

Such hopes are dashed when she nearly runs headlong into Einin on her way to the front entrance.

"You're up early," she notes casually, raising a brow and scrutinizing her with sharp silvery eyes, "Going somewhere fun?"

"It's my rest day," Oisin mumbles, glancing away. She can never manage to conceal anything, especially not from Einin, who seems to have been born with some innate secret-detecting abilities. "I thought it would be pleasant to go for a morning ride."

"By yourself?" she wonders, her mouth twitching up into the beginnings of a smile. It is clear that she has already surmised the truth. Oisin winces.

"Please don't tell," she implores, "It will only be for a few hours. And just once…just this once, I want to be alone with him. Please?"

"I understand," Einin assures her, "but our parents will be in hysterics if you just vanish without saying anything."

"I told Mamae that I was going to go riding on my day off," she tells her, "I just…did not say when or with whom. You can tell them that I will be in the woods east of the town if they need to come find me for something important. I just do not…wish to speak of love with Papae or Nanae looming over our shoulders."

Einin snorts.

"I will tell them, but they will not like it," she says. She looks them over for a moment. Contemplative. "Is that how you are going to wear your hair?"

"It was the best I could manage on my own," Oisin admits with an air of chagrin.

Her sister takes her hand, pulling her back towards her own bed chambers.

"We can do better than that."

It takes the better part of an hour, but by the time they are through, Oisin's hair has a dozen smaller braids in it, all twisted and plaited back from her face in an intricate net-like pattern and woven into a single long rope that falls to her waist. Dozens of little jeweled hair pins have been tucked into it, all of them crafted to look like tiny wildflowers. Pansies made of garnet and sapphires. Amethyst violets. Opal daisies. And delicate sprigs of baby's breath made from pearls and slender twists of silver wiring.

Oisin must admit that the effect is lovely, and they say as much while Einin digs around in a box near her vanity.

"My supervisors think much the same," Einin hums, finally unearthing a pair of little golden studs shaped like roses and passing them to her sibling, "They are certain that these will be all the rage this spring, so long as they can convince the right high-ranking elf to wear them, and so they have asked me to use my connections in my large and fairly prominent family to stir up some interest. Try not to lose any of them, though. I think they still want Papae to pay for them if he ends up liking them."

"These aren't yours?" Oisin baulks.

"I have them on loan," Einin confirms, patting her shoulder, "And you have them on loan from me."

"Thank you," Oisin says quietly, not quite able to keep the sniffle out of her voice, "They are so beautiful. I'm sure they are well beyond my personal credit limit, otherwise I would offer to buy a few of them myself. I'm certain that Tonlen would enjoy getting one or two as a courtship gift. He always finds me such beautiful things, and most of my gifts for him have been handmade by me."

She sighs deeply.

"Unfortunately, I do not think you were the clientele my supervisors were hoping for," Einin tells her gently, moving back over to the box the flowers came in a digging around a bit before pulling out a small bundle of pink tissue paper, "Papae and Nenae get seen by all sorts of important people every day. People who want to emulate their taste and style. No one else in our family wields that kind of influence. Yet."

She holds the bundle out for them to take.

"This might help, though, if you are set on offering your cobbler a gift today."

Oisin blinks at her in surprise before taking the mysterious item from her hands and carefully unwrapping it. Inside are three ornamental hair combs, each decorated with different varieties of spring flowers. White lilies set against silver, pink roses on bronze, and blue irises on gold.

Oisin gasps in delight.

"They are so lovely!" she exclaims, "Are you sure I can afford one of them?"

"Normally, the answer would probably be 'no'," Einin smirks, "but these are from last year, and my supervisors agreed that I could keep one of them as a reward for convincing Papae to wear the other ones."

"Oh, but then this is yours!" Oisin exclaims, "I couldn’t possibly take a prize you earned for yourself! And what if you can't get Papae to wear these little ones?"

"Let me worry about Papae," Einin waves her off, "And I have plenty of other ornaments for my hair. One less is not going to ruin any of my ensembles."

"You really don't mind giving it to me?" Oisin checks, "Just like that?"

"Well, I would be lying if I said I was not interested in getting some form of compensation for it," Einin hums thoughtfully.

"What can I give you?" Oisin asks doubtfully, "You already said that I probably don't have the credits for it."

"There are plenty of things that are worth intrinsically more than credit," Einin informs them smoothly, "We will work out a satisfactory arrangement later, but for now, I think you had better get going. Mamae and Nanae will likely be up soon."

Oisin smiles at her, nodding once in acceptance before folding the comb with the blue irises into a handkerchief, tucking it into a coat pocket, and heading back towards the front door as quickly and quietly as they can.

They do not reach the eastern edge of the forest as soon as they would like. The stable master had been less than thrilled at Oisin's early arrival, mumbling and grumbling to himself as he went about preparing the two harts for a day's ride. Purposely moving slow. Oisin could not quite muster the nerve to try and hurry him along. After all, there are many people who dislike being awake and active in the morning, and it did not seem like something worth starting a fight over.

The animals both seem calm enough, despite the hour. The larger of the harts is a soft gray-brown with purple markings on its legs and face, while the smaller one is white and cream. Oisin leads them both by their bridals to her intended meeting spot with Tonlen.

It would have been much easier to meet him at the Eluvian in Bel'thyl, but Oisin had been worried about other townsfolk seeing them together and snitching on her to her parents. Not that she is ashamed to be with Tonlen in the least, she just…does not want any interruptions. Today is going to be special, she can just feel it.

The time for their meeting comes and goes, and Oisin begins to feel a prickle of concern. Worried that something might have happened to Tonlen on his way here. Or that he has somehow lost interest in her since their last exchange of letters.

Such doubts are quelled instantly when she spots a figure swathed in pale yellow green hurrying down the path as fast as his legs will carry him without breaking into a run.

"I am so sorry for being late!" Tonlen pants, doubling over for a moment to catch his breath, "I missed the turn at the farm with the yellow shutters you told be about and ended up in the middle of a wheat field."

Oisin giggles and takes a few steps closer to him, happiness shimmering in the air around her. His tunic is a riot of yellow and white flowers blooming across a field of green, like a meadow that she would very much like to lie down in for an afternoon. His hair is braided back from his face, but left loose to tumble down his back in a way that make her want to put her hands in it. And the combination of snug leggings and thigh-high boots is…very pleasant.

Oisin gulps thickly, feeling a faint blush rising in her cheeks. It feels like it would be a bit presumptuous to ask for a kiss right now. But she wants one anyway.

"Um, I thought…I thought since you were the less experienced rider, you should ride Tulip," she tells him softly, handing him the reins for the cream-colored hart, "They are both gentle, but she's a little older, and the stable master said she tends to go at a steadier pace."

Tonlen takes the reins with only a small amount of hesitance, before seeming to find his resolve and giving his mount a friendly pat on her neck.

"How do I… Is there some special trick to getting on?" he wonders.

"You put one foot in the left stirrup, grab hold of the saddle, and pull your leg up over the other side," Oisin says, "I can help, if you like."

"Please," Tonlen replies with a smile.

Oisin ties her hart to a tree for a moment and comes over to give Tonlen a leg up into his saddle. They don't quite make it on the first try, but with a little more strength exerted and a bit of flailing, they get him up into his seat. Tonlen shifts around a bit, trying to find the best way to sit comfortably, the hart moves her feet around in response, which garners a worried glance from her rider, but Oisin just smiles.

"You are doing very well for a beginner," she assures him, gently taking his foot in her hands, "Here, you need to keep your heels down like this. It helps distribute your weight across her back. Grip her sides with your knees or give her a little bit of a kick to go forward, and move the reins in the direction you want her to go. Do not tug on them too much if you can help it, though. She won't like that."

"Confidence is a fine look on you," Tonlen commends warmly, adjusting his posture as directed and smiling down at Oisin. She blushes profusely, moving a hand up to rest lightly on his knee. Wishing their lips were in a much closer range of each other. She does not want to pull him back out of his saddle, though.

"However I look, I am sure it is not half so fine as you," she sighs instead, "It seems as though you must have escaped from a book of fairytales. The charming hero on his noble steed."

Tonlen laughs.

"And does that mean you are my lovely princess?" he wonders smilingly.

"I certainly hope so," Oisin replies, only feeling slightly shy about it, "I would not want to relinquish the title to anyone else."

"There is no one else who is even remotely close to being worthy of it," Tonlen promises.

"Good," Oisin smiles, squeezing his knee a little. A heated moment passes, but they both seem painfully aware of the awkward physical distance between them, and so Oisin merely clears her throat and pats at Tonlen's leg one last time before going to retrieve her hart.

The ride is just as pleasant as anticipated. The air is fresh and sweet. The sunlight sifts through canopies of leaves and flowers to dapple the forest floor, puddling here and there like pools of gold. They keep to the well-worn paths close to the town, moving at a slow steady pace to accommodate Tonlen's inexperience. Side by side so they can still converse easily along the way.

"I can see why you are so fond of riding," Tonlen says as they take a moment to stop and admire a particularly scenic glen that is carpeted with bluebells, "It is very relaxing, and the woods around your hometown are very beautiful."

"It can be exciting, too," Oisin assures him, maneuvering her hart a little closer so that their legs are nearly brushing one another, "When you are feeling a bit more confident, we can try riding at a faster pace. The wind gets in your face and your heart beats quickly and it is just this amazing rush. Like flying without really leaving the ground."

"We do not need to move at a faster pace for my heart to beat quickly," Tonlen replies softly, his tone heavy with intention. Oisin finds herself blushing again, but she holds his gaze.

"Tonlen, I…um," Oisin flounders, losing the nerve to ask for what she wants before the scentence is even half way out of her mouth, "I…have something to give you."

She pulls the folded handkerchief out of her pocket and hands it to him, her fingers lingering on his skin for a few moments than might strictly be necessary.

"I am sorry it is not wrapped better," she apologizes, "I knew I wanted to get you something, but I couldn't find anything I liked until the last minute."

"It's beautiful," Tonlen replies, beaming as he holds the blue iris comb up to admire it in the sunlight, "The color reminds me of your eyes."

Oisin's cheeks darken further.

"I thought it would look particularly nice with your hair color -not that I really think any color would look bad on you, of course," she stumbles, "Um, may I… That is…would you like me to help you put it on?"

"If you like," Tonlen agrees easily, leaning slightly in his saddle and angling his head closer.

Oisin takes the comb back from him and carefully slides it into his hair. He smells faintly sweet, like jasmine and honey, and she finds that is very hard not to bury her fingers in his dark tresses. The air between them warms with affection and desire, and Tonlen turns his face just a little bit closer towards her. The light catches in his eyes and a stray blossom falls from a nearby tree and lands, seemingly unnoticed, on top of his head.

Unthinking, Oisin reaches up to brush it away, bending over slightly so as not to muss Tonlen's hair with the motion. It is a precarious position to sit in, but she finds herself pinioned by his gaze. It feels as the though whole world is holding its breath, waiting for something miraculous.

"There was a flower," Oisin explains in a hoarse whisper, unconsciously leaning closer even as Tonlen does the same.

"Thank you," he murmurs softly, the air around him sizzling with intent as he angles his head up slightly and presses his mouth against Oisin's waiting lips.

The kiss is soft and slow and chaste. And for all that, Oisin can feel the heat of it burn straight through her, from the tips of her ears all the way down to her toes. Her heart hammers in her ears at the rush of it. The sudden joy. It feels as though a million flowers must have burst into bloom all at once.

It does not last very long, however, and when Toneln draws back slightly, he finds that Oisin is crying.

"I am so sorry!" he rushes to apologize, "I knew I should have asked first. I got so caught up in the moment, but I promise I will never do it again without your express permission. We do not have to kiss at all, in fact, if you find it objectionable…"

Oisin shakes her head vigorously.

"It wasn't that," she sniffles, wiping ineffectually at her eyes, "It was just…just so wonderful. It was perfect. I mean, I hoped it would be like that, but…"

"Have you never kissed someone before?" Tonlen wonders, sounding surprised.

"No, I have," Oisin chuckles wetly, "It just never felt like that."

Tonlen reaches over to brush a few stray tears off her cheek with his thumb, expression thoughtful and eyes soft.

"Does that mean it would be alright if I kissed you again?" he asks, his voice low and warm.

"Please," Oisin sighs.

#Oisin x Tonlen #Einin #clusterfuck triplets #Clusterfuck AU #fic #they are so gross and in love #it's so cute #X3 #and...then a VERY ANGRY swan probably divebombed them #but I didn't really want to end it with an argument #let everything be soft and shiny for a minute #poor tonlen #oisin cries at everything #I promise it's not you #well..it's kinda you #but in a good way

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feynites · 6 years

Text

@lillotte17 I DID THE THING! More Clusterfuck babies!

Sometimes, Nightmare’s joints still ache with the phantom pains of having been rent limb from limb.

There is no physical reason for them to. They have not scarred along the seams of their being. There are a few places, internally, where their muscles are more prone to knotting and cramping and over-extending more easily than they do on their counterpart. But the pains that they get sometimes are more like the remnants of memories. Nightmare’s long, bad dream asserting itself into reality, as its nature might encourage.

Bad thoughts can bring it about.

Today’s bad thought had come upon them while they were helping Thenvunin clean up the back garden. Their house has two garden spaces; a small one out front, for entertaining, and a larger one at the back, for Thenvunin’s birds and Aili’s apple tree and other, more private things. Thenvunin had begun to hum, as he often did while he looked after his birds. And Nightmare had thought about the time they had killed him. In another life, and another world. The memory of sinking their flesh past his defences, watching the life leave his eyes, had persisted until they had been forced to excuse themselves.

They had killed him.

Not that Thenvunin, surely. But a Thenvunin. On Andruil’s orders and with their mind already mostly scattered, but it was still their hand which had held the weapon. Their gaze found their counterpart’s as they came back inside, and the other Uthvir lifted up one of the babies – Oisin – and headed out to the garden in their stead.

Even in that life, in the one where they had managed to look after him, Uthvir had brought Thenvunin to grief and harm. And Nightmare had not been able to keep Aili from suffering, either. She had lived, yes, but in many worlds she had not. And she had been alone, and had lost so much, and Nightmare had done nothing.

Will they really be able to protect their children, too?

Is it only foolish to think so?

They retreat to their chambers, and seal the door. It is not good for the little ones to see them when they are like this. They fold themselves into a corner of their room, and darken the lights, and feel all their jagged edges and torn spaces. Even in this, they are a liability. Even now, there are times when their mind becomes disjointed, and they are uncertain of their reality. But at least they can tell when it is happening, now. At least they are coherent enough to anchor themselves, and to not lose all sense of where they are or who they are. The absence of the Veil means that their disorientation is more like drifting. Less like having knives attempt to pry the Fear from their bones.

Their joins hurt. Their shoulders ache. Their back feels raw. But they are still in their own skin, as unpleasant as it might be.

They have not been in their space for long when the door opens. Only one person can open it, but they still withdraw a little more, and zero in on the sense of the wards flickering. The sound of the latch turning.

Aili slips quietly into the room, and Nightmare lets their head tip back against the alcove wall behind them.

Only once she has shut the door behind her again, though.

“Sorry,” they manage. With four babies to look after, vanishing from their responsibilities is a significant inconvenience. Particularly nowadays, with the little ones getting big enough to crawl. And Lavellan is still visiting with Pride, so they are more shorthanded than usual anyway.

“No, don’t be,” Aili nevertheless says. She has a jar of familiar-smelling salve in her hand, and a knowing look in her gaze. This bad habit of theirs is long established by now. “Everything is fine. Mealla set out the play mat, and Einin, Ardal, and Virevas are all happily climbing over one another. Oisin has a little bit of a cough, but he’s fine. Uthvir and Thenvunin are watching him closely.”

Nightmare lets out a breath.

“And now you have come to look after me,” they deduce.

Aili moves into their corner, and settles a hand onto their cheek.

“I like looking after you,” she tells them. Worried, but also comfortable enough. They have danced this dance before. And so she asks them the usual questions.

“You remember where we are?”

Nightmare hums.

“In our new little house, which is not so little, and is in the village of Bel’thyl. Near to Daran,” they confirm. “You are Aili, and I am Uthvir, who is officially going by ‘Uthlin’, and unofficially called ‘Nightmare’.”

She smiles at them.

“Babies’ names?” she asks.

“Mealla, Einin, Ardal, Oisin, Virevas, and sometimes Lavellan,” they answer.

Another nod, and then Aili ventures a hand towards their collar. When they do not object, she settles down onto their lap, and starts undoing the straps for their armour. She knows what hurts them, usually, when they get this way. And today they are not so raw as to turn aside her offered comforts. Instead, they settle their own hands against her lower back, and sigh.

“What happened?” she asks, before pressing a soft kiss to their lips.

They work their touch up underneath her tunic. Seeking the warmth of her skin.

“…I remembered killing Thenvunin,” they admit.

Aili pauses for a moment. Then she closes her eyes, and rests her forehead against their own.

“Ah,” she says.

“Changing worlds does not mean I no longer did it,” they say. But they wish that it did.

“Andruil did it,” Aili tells them. Her voice is assured, not angry; but they can feel her anger, trying not to pass through the bonds between them. She always becomes angry when they mention the things that they did, back Before. Nightmare cannot help but feel it as a displeasure with them, no matter how many times she has assured them otherwise. It is easier to think of what happened as being entirely Andruil’s doing. But they made their own choices as well. They own their nature, the one that preferences their survival above all other things.

It is a vicious and ignoble nature, at times. Cowardly.

“Stop that,” Aili chides them, gently. Their recriminations have become apparent, it seems. She gives them another kiss, and Nightmare relents. There is nothing served by it, in the end. They cannot undo what has been done.

Aili’s fingers deftly pull away their outer layer of armour. She is working the jar of salve open – the warming sort, with eases muscle tension and makes their skin tingle in a way that generally distracts from the aches that no healing spell can truly mend – when they feel one of their emergency wards go off.

They stiffen, and the ceiling turns an alarming shade of orange overhead.

Someone has carried one of the babies past the proximity wards – someone who has no permission to do such a thing.

Aili looks at them, and then they are both scrambling. Not bothering with their discarded armour as they hurry from Nightmare’s room. The first thing they are aware of is the sound of Oisin coughing. The other Uthvir has him, and their own aura is snapping outwards even as they ease a healing spell into his chest with careful precision.

“The garden,” they say. “Someone lit incense near the back wall, and it set him off. I brought him in before the alarm went.”

They are tensed, and Nightmare feels their shared tension as they hurry out with Aili not a step behind them. Their senses expand, sharp and heightened by their terror, but sticking to the basics at first. Garden. Mealla. Einin and Virevas, both of them starting to react to their older sister’s visible upset as she holds them. Thenvunin has taken on his swan form, and is heading over the back wall.

“Where is Ardal?” Aili asks, even as they think it.

Someone has taken him past the perimeter. That must have been what set off the wards. If they climbed over the walls, it would have been conspicuous, but Nightmare and Thenuvnin were cleaning the garden before their lapse had them leaving. They look, and see a collection of branch clippings and plant detritus, piled up for disposal; high enough and near enough to one of the larger trees that someone could have concealed their entry and exit with it. Nightmare’s wings flare out, and they leap over the tree, and focus on the trail of orange footprints that they can now see dispersing from the perimeter wards.

It only takes them a few minutes, in the end, to find the two figures, heading swiftly for a cart near the village wilds. One of them is carrying a basket, large enough to conceal and infant.

Nightmare descends on them.

They knock the unburdened figure flat, and pin him to the ground with a spell that they typically reserve for more recreational pastimes. The woman sees them, and calls up a barrier. Too rigid; Nightmare is about to shatter it when it is broken by another spell. A familiar arc of gold-limned magic that bursts out of Aili’s fingertips, followed by an eruption of roots that break out of the ground at the woman’s feet, and trap her in place.

Nightmare pulls the basket from her. She tries to resist, but her strength is not a match for theirs.

The basket is quiet.

They hurriedly open the top.

Ardal stares up at them. Unperturbed, aura mostly playful. Playing a game, he must think. He smiles and reaches his hands towards them as he sees them, babbling some of his not-quite-words, and throwing in ‘boo’ for good measure.

Nightmare pulls him from the horrid basket, and secures him in their arms instead.

“Boo,” they repeat, gently, as they check him over for signs of damage. His hair is a bit ruffled. But he is unhurt.

Their visceral relief is echoed by Aili, who reaches over with a shaking hand, and then looks at them. She does not need to ask her question for them to know it.

“He is not hurt,” they confirm.

The two kidnappers are still fighting with their restraints. Fear colouring the air – and their fear is beginning to unnerve Ardal. They can taste it, though. The pair have been caught, have been caught stealing a child, endangering a child, and they will be punished for it, and their paltry hopes that being servants of Ghilan’nain will avail them are…

Wait.

Nightmare looks, and narrows their eyes. And sees that yes, indeed, the pair are wearing Ghilan’nain’s vallaslin.

Their own disquiet resurges.

What does Ghilan’nain want with their babies? Has she… does she know? But why take Ardal, in that case? Unless they meant to take Oisin, but could not, because Uthvir had brought him inside. Perhaps his obvious signs of illness unnerved them. Or perhaps Ghilan’nain wishes for any of their babies, perhaps she wishes for all of them, and has failed to convince Mana’Din and so now is sending people to come and steal their children and to try and take them, too, to bring them into laboratories where they can be researched…

Ardal cries, and Nightmare’s distress grows.

Aili closes a hand on their shoulder.

“It’s alright,” she says, though she is looking at the kidnappers. “I know them. They did this for revenge – didn’t you?”

The man does not answer. Though, that could be because he cannot move his face very far from the dirt. His focus seems mostly reserved for his efforts at breathing. But the woman is still technically standing. She glares at Aili, but she is afraid. Very afraid. And tinged with grief, too.

As Thenvunin swoops down, and turns out of his swan form, she sags in defeat.

“Ardal?!” Thenvunin demands, worriedly.

Nightmare hesitates a moment. But then they relinquish their son into his arms. Those are safe arms, too, and Thenvunin is less distressing for Ardal right now, as he radiates more relief than fear.

“He is unhurt,” they repeat again, which makes Thenvunin’s relief even more potent, as he presses kisses to Ardal’s cheeks. Ardal’s crying eases some, and he clutches his papa’s collar, and shoves a thumb up into his mouth. A self-comforting gesture that reminds Nightmare further of his vulnerability, to the point where they are able to contain some of their disquiet.

“Just who-“ Thenvunin begins, covering Ardal’s ears and rounding on the strangers.

“Thenvunin,” Aili interrupts, quietly but firmly. “Please take Ardal back to the house. Uthvir should know that he is alright. Uthlin and I will handle this, and then come back.”

Thenvunin hesitates. Clearly torn between his desire to tear into the kidnappers, and his awareness that Ardal should not witness such things. The latter wins out in short order, and with one last glare, Thenvunin turns and hurries their baby back towards the relative safety of home. Relative, of course, because apparently their security measures were not up to the task.

Nightmare regards the kidnappers. Aili stares down the woman, and with Ardal no longer in range, radiates so much anger that the air wavers like an over-heated stone.

“Why should your family prosper?” the woman finally blurts. Clenching her fists, and letting a rush of her own anger fly forth. “Your kin got my son killed. My Daewyn! Dead before he was barely an adult. Lady Ghilan’nain has turned down all of our petitions for another child ever since then. Because of that fool girl’s actions, my family will never have a child again. While you people keep four of them in some secret house. What justice is that?!”

Nightmare had not known what sort of commentary to expect. But it had not been that.

They hesitate. They do not know what incident this woman is referring to, and they also do not know if it is something they have never been aware of, or have managed to forget. Either option seems possible. They recollect, now, seeing this couple while they were moving the babies to their new home. At the rest stop. They had recognized Aili, after a fashion.

Aili’s ‘kin’ in this world is likely her own alternate self, then.

For a moment, her feelings remind them much of the feeling they themselves had endured that morning. Before the alarm had gone off. Grief and regret, old wounds, long since sealed but so easily re-opened.

And then her anger smothers it all again.

“So you thought you would shove my baby in a basket and steal him?” she snaps. “What happened to Daewyn… happened. It cannot be undone. But you have no right to come to my home, to touch my son, or to terrify my family!”

Her fists clench. For a moment, Nightmare thinks she might lash out. Her knuckles are white and she is angry enough to.

But then she reaches out, and closes her hand around their own instead.

“We will send for the guard,” she decides. “Uthvir can find people.”

Nightmare pauses.

Leaving them alive seems… unwise. They might try again. They are dangerous. But, the consequences of killing them would likely be dire as well.

“You are certain?” they check.

Aili shakes her head, just a little.

“If I see them again, it will be the last time,” she asserts. Loud enough for the pair to hear. And then she redoubles her grip on them, and determinedly leads them back towards the house. To their faulted protections and insufficient safety. To where Uthvir is still holding Oisin, who is breathing properly now, and Mealla is awash with apologies – she only turned her back for a moment, to stop Einin from catching a butterfly – and Thenvunin is still holding Ardal, to such an extent that Virevas is clearly getting jealous.

They speak with Uthvir, first, and Aili explains that the couple were likely acting upon individual impulse. Not any orders from Ghilan’nain. Nightmare is still nervous, because there are so many ways this situation could open the door to further dangers. But they also listen, as Aili recounts a situation from her own long-ago youth. Less long-ago in this world than it had been in their own. Of two children getting into trouble, and only one of them getting back out of it again. Of grief-stricken parents never forgiving her for the loss of their son, and leveraging their influence as merchants against her own kin, until they had lost most of their prospects and hope of rising through the ranks.

It would seem that seeing someone even of relation to this world’s Aili, in possession of not only one child but several, had been more than the couple could handle.

Nightmare does not understand their reaction, even so. The loss of a child is a terrifying prospect. But they know that none could replace any of theirs, either. If something happened… it would not matter how many other children lived in the world. The one who was gone would still be gone.

Their bones ache, still, and they are unsettled and unnerved. Aili reclaims Ardal from Thenvunin, and Uthvir puts Oisin into their arms as they go to handle the kidnappers. Thenvunin finally gives Virevas the attention she is after, and Mealla holds Einin, and all of them settle in for several minutes as they fight to recover from the shock. Nightmare is still without armour, and they are… fraying, more than they have for quite a few years. Oisin looks like a small and vulnerable Glory, and when they glance at Thenvunin, they keep seeing his eyes glassy and his throat bloodied; and Mealla and Aili are upset, and only now beginning to really calm themselves. The babies are, subsequently, all fussing.

It is a stressful morning. Nightmare wishes to retreat, but also does not want to let anyone out of their sight. They have wards and security measures to rethink and redesign, and they feel exhausted; and they know that some of that exhaustion is carrying through their bond with Aili as well. That they are, despite themselves, feeding into one another’s negativity and upset.

And then Ardal makes a great huffing sound, and tilts his head up to where Aili keeps kissing his curls. Reaching chubby hands for her face.

“Ma-ma!” he declares, very clearly, and for the first time.

There is a moment of stunned silence.

Then a flurry of excitement, and the world feels slightly more settled again.

#sharp and shiny ship #triplets au #clusterfuck au #aili x uthvir

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scurvgirl · 6 years

Text

I wrote more!

Oisin, Aili, Mealla, Ardal, and Einin belong to @lillotte17

Thenerassan/Thenvunin, Uthvir, and Uthlin belong to @feynites

“I’m feeling…yellow, like a canary, but soft,” Tonlen says to the seamstress before him. It’s a rush order, which is never fun, but he’s only recently decided to actually attend this celebration – so he needs this in short order.

The seamstress, Allure, nods, sketching quickly, making notes.

“Do you have any other specific ideas?”

“Flowers, I’d like it to incorporate flowers somehow. And I want the slit to be to the top of my hip…or even to my waist, I feel like showing off.”

She blinks, “Which is it – over your hip or to your waist?”

He contemplates it for a moment before sighing, “Over the hip, I shouldn’t scandalize the poor thing.”

She chuckles, returning to her sketch, “Seeking to woo someone?”

“Yes,” Tonlen says, leaning back in the chair. He considers it for a moment before deciding.

“Do you know of an Oisin?” He asks. Allure stops her work and glances up at Tonlen, her face suddenly serious.

“As in, General Thenerassan’s and Spymaster Uthvir’s kid? Plus two other parents that no one really knows much about but rumor has it they’re in very good with Mana’din herself? That Oisin?”

Tonlen blanches. Then swallows. Oh. That is…more than a little intimidating.

“His…his father is Thenerassan but perhaps that’s a common name –

She shakes her head slowly, “You are going to need an exorbitant amount of luck, my friend. And class. And willpower. And a good helping of fear and stubbornness.” Allure smiles though, and Tonlen can see the cogs turning in her head.

“A word of caution, Tonlen,” she says slowly, her expression turning sharp, “Daran is not like Arlathan. We look out for our own.”

Tonlen raises an eyebrow at her, “Is that a threat?”

“It’s a warning, and a slight one considering Oisin’s family. But enough unpleasantness, tell me more about this gown you would like.”

It takes a while for Tonlen to not feel odd or threatened, but the talk of fashion and color helps break him out of it. They settle on an off the shoulder design that will display the currently gold flower tattoos on Tonlen’s shoulder. The sleeves billow out at the bicep and float over a fitted portion of the sleeve around his forearms. There are to be flower appliques along the collar and torso, fading to no appliques by his waist. At his waist there is to be a sash of the same gauzy bright yellow, before the gown gains more fabric in flowing pleats. There is no train, to allow for more dancing, but the slits run up the sides of his legs and up over his hip. He’ll have to wear some modesty stockings, but that’s nothing new to him.

There’s no time to have it enchanted, and the design is remarkably simple due to the restricted time. Still, he’ll make it work. He has some silver and gold twined ear cuffs his father made for his two hundredth birthday that he hasn’t worn in a while. But they’ll work beautifully for this occasion.

The next stop on Tonlen’s list is the hairdresser. There is a product he can smooth into his hair to give it an iridescent sheen. It’s more expensive than he was planning, but now that he knows more about what he’s dealing with by pseudo-initiating a courtship with Oisin…the expense is worth it. How he makes that call after only three encounters, two of which were filled with business, he can’t really say. Papae would say it’s his heart knowing something. Memae would say it’s irrational and it would be wise to turn back now.

Sometimes Tonlen wonders how his parents managed to get together. But then he thinks of other things because ew.

Next he has his appointment with a hand specialist. Working with leather is not kind on the hands and normally he isn’t too bothered by his rougher hands, but right now, he wants to feel pretty and perfect. Which means he needs a full restorative manicure.

He drops his things off, then heads to the manicurist. They take one look at his hands and click their tongue.

“Leather work?”

“Yes, I am apparently the go to person for military boots now,” Tonlen says.

“I’ll fix these right up, don’t you worry. Any scents you prefer?” They ask as they pull out their needed tools.

“Lavender honey, please.” Tried and true and very pleasant. For the next couple of hours, the manicurist works their magic and smooths Tonlen’s hands. They freshen the skin by removing old, which is painful, but they’re quick to reduce the pain and regenerate new skin. Cuticles are pushed and prodded and nails are buffed then painted. They even go up to Tonlen’s elbows and smooth the skin there. It’s equal parts healing and pampering.

Tonlen leaves the manicurist with beautiful hands and arms. He’ll see them again before the celebration, to truly make his hands soft and nice. This visit was the first step and now he feels mostly raw.

When he returns home, he decides to spend the rest of the day reading. He’ll be up to working tomorrow, when his hands are less raw, and he is in a better mindset to actually work.

He tries to read, he does, but his mind keeps wandering to what Allure said. Tonlen hasn’t engaged that much with Daran outside of his work. He goes about his work, shops sometimes but outside of that he hasn’t ventured out, hasn’t made friends. He had friends in Arlathan, he’d take lunch breaks, go eat with them – they’d view art together, he even had a book club.

He hasn’t integrated well in Daran, and maybe that’s part of why he had such a lack of control around Oisin. Maybe it’s why he wants to court Oisin so vehemently. He’s…lonely. It’s a word he never thought he’d use to describe himself, but here he is, lonely in a city with only a dance with a beautiful person to look forward to.

A beautiful person who happens to be the child of a general and the spymaster. Tonlen’s always had good taste.

His head falls back against his chair, and he stares up at his ceiling. Oisin is integrated into this city, into this society. Tonlen is just…what is he? He works for Mana’din but he isn’t really of Daran. People who meet him say he has Arlathan written all over him and yet he’s here. He’s here and he’s lonely and apparently going to court a beautiful person who is the child of two of the most powerful people in Mana’din’s territories.

He wishes for a moment that Samihlan wasn’t so far away, he could travel, see his brother. Ileth is rational and comforting about this stuff. He already knows what it’s like to move to a new city and flounder. Except that on the surface it looks like Tonlen is flourishing. His business is doing well, he is making good money, his reputation is spectacular. A gorgeous, truly breath-taking person is interested in him and for the first time since Lithadra, he wants to be with someone.

Ugh, he sounds so morose. He’s really quite the cheerful person normally. Maybe he shouldn’t pursue Oisin, maybe it’s just to distract from his own lonely existence in this city where he doesn’t feel like he belongs.

No. That’s absurd, he likes Oisin. Oisin is…beautiful and has this smile that makes Tonlen feel like he’s swallowed butterflies. And if he is wrong and they don’t work, then…he doesn’t have to hurt Oisin if that comes true.

Tonlen sets the book down and opens the box with the golden scarf. He imagines Oisin wearing it, loving it, being beautiful in it. He should be proactive. It’s only been a few days since Oisin stopped by, which really isn’t that appropriate amount of time Tonlen had mentioned. But that doesn’t mean he can’t be proactive.

Initial courting gifts should be small offerings. The scarf is a good start, but he wants to explain why he is sending this particular gift. Prose is clunky, so he sets to compose poetry.

I walked the streets of Arlathan,

Lined with gold and umber

And all I could think of

Was you.

I thought of your eyes,

The color pure and bright,

And your hair a finer gold

Than any on this street.

The scarf, gold and flowing

Like your hair but not.

I hope it brightens your day,

Like the thought of your smile

Brightens mine.

He forgot about this part. Initial courtship is so…butterfly inducing. It’s worrying over what the other person is going to think upon receiving it.

He files the poem away with the box. An appropriate amount of time would be after the celebration, all things considered. The idea doesn’t sit well with him, however, since Oisin seemed to enjoy the thought of receiving a gift relatively soon. The celebration is in three weeks. Tonlen can send the package in two weeks, which should give the package time to arrive, and it means that it will be fresh in Oisin’s mind at the celebration.

Over the next two weeks, Tonlen makes strides to not be so isolated. He finds a new book club out of the local library. It’s for mysteries, specifically the fun kind, the ones with spunky protagonists and erstwhile companions. There’s six of them, including Tonlen. One’s a low-level manager, another is a gardener, there’s a healer who specializes in bones and the regeneration of limbs, and one is a cartographer. The healer and the cartographer avoid talking about their work, but the gardener speaks plenty about her work. Tonlen is happy to gush about shoes too, and they all enjoy talking about the books of course.

He thinks by the time he sends the scarf and the poem (he spritzes the paper with the perfume he was wearing the second time Oisin had come by), that he’s made friends with the book club members. The cartographer, Trust (who is looking to change their name), has become particularly close. They like to cook and have shown up at Tonlen’s shop with a fully cooked dish a few times, worried that he’s not eating enough. Composure, the gardener, has invited Tonlen to the public gardens. He feels better, less alone, and he was right. He still wants to pursue Oisin, only now he feels assured that it’s not because he’s alone and grabbing onto the first the person to receive him well. His friends are just that, friends, all beautiful, but he feels no urge to woo them.

He sends the scarf and the poem in a small painted box. On the same day, he has his last fitting for the gown and he brings his recently completed boots. He steps up onto the pedestal for fitting and Allure lets out a low whistle.

“Those boots are amazing. Remind me to commission you,” she says, staring at his beautiful creations. They are high and snug against his thighs, leaving only a tantalizing amount of skin revealed between the high slit of the gown and the top of the boot. He is tall and elegant and striking. The deep purple contrasts beautifully with the yellow of the dress. There are minor fitting issues they resolve, but overall, Tonlen is exceptionally pleased with the effect.

He leaves the store feeling beautiful and excited for the celebration.

Decorations efforts have been under way for most of the month, transforming plain Daran into…less plain. The point of the celebration is the harvest of the apples, which vary between shades of red, pink, and golden yellow. There are ribbons above doors and great swaths of fabric strung over the streets. A metalworking co-op was commissioned to make cage-like decorations for the streetlamps. They resemble vines with little apple blossoms.

Stores all debut with sales and after seeing how widespread that trend is, Tonlen decides to have a sale of his own. For the few days before the great event, business booms. It booms so much that it almost depletes Tonlen of premade stock. He begins offering discounted commissions instead and that goes over very well. Suddenly he has fifteen commissions to do in addition to replenishing his stock. If business keeps up like this, he’ll need to take on an apprentice soon.

The sales keep him busy until the day of the celebration. Then everything is closed for the day as everyone crowds the streets to see the parade. It is a small, quaint procession compared to the absolute spectacles in Arlathan. But there is something nice knowing that the dancers and the ribbon twirlers, the fire eaters, everyone involved in the parade is Mana’din’s. It feels more personal in a way, and Tonlen can appreciate that.

He watches the procession from his apartment, leaning out the window to watch everything. He’s not overly fond of crowds and the parade walks right by his shop, so he has this grand benefit. After the parade, he follows the crowd out to the orchards outside of the city walls. There are booths and a large temporary hall constructed beside the trees. It’s all very fun and beautiful, even in its simplicity. Everything in Arlathan had been over the top and elegant and dangerous. This just feels happy.

The day is full of apple related activities. There is apple bobbing in multiple forms. There is the traditional form of hanging them from trees and people leap up and try to snag the hanging apples with their teeth, and the water version where the apples are in buckets and people must snatch them by essentially dunking their heads into the water.

There are cheers and carefree happiness at it all. It’s quite the treat to see.

“So this is your first harvest celebration,” Allure says. Tonlen turns from his spot by an apple carving station to see his seamstress dressed in a radiant pink two piece. He smiles and when she moves to hug him he allows her and even hugs her back.

“That obvious?”

“Fish out of water tend to flail, but you’re just standing and staring,” she replies, pulling back from him. She gestures to the table, “You’d be good at that, with your skills.”

Tonlen glances at the station and notes how one man maneuvers his knife with such precision, Tonlen is convinced he’s a carver of some sort.

“Perhaps, I’m interested in seeing what the rest of the celebration has to offer.” Allure links her arm with his and gestures outward.

“Allow me to be your guide! Here we have apple carving. You’ve already seen the apple bobbing because you had walk by those fools to get here. The dance platform will be completed in an hour, then a band will strike up. There is the apple cider area, complete with alcoholic and non-alcoholic varieties. There will be drunken singing by there later…” she runs through what seems to be a dozen activities, strolling him by them all (he makes a mental note to avoid the barrel rolling, he can just hear his mother’s voice “You did what?! Young man, that is dangerous! You could have died! Don’t you scare your poor mother like that! Come here and let me hold you for what will feel like hours!”).

Allure explains the significance of the orchards, how they’re planted for peace and everyone loves them so. The orchardists are well regarded in Daran and after eating an apple turnover, Tonlen can appreciate them too. It’s not just a celebration of the apples, but ongoing peace and goodness.

By the time they wander back over to the dancing pavilion, the band is playing, the dance floor is alight, and people are already beginning to sway with the music. His heart flutters in his chest and he hopes he catches sight of Oisin. But catching sight of Oisin may also mean he catches sight of Thenerassan, and he’s not sure how to handle that quite yet. Oisin said that Thenerassan thought Tonlen to be too forward and crass, which is understandable. But should Tonlen apologize for it? Explain that it’s been…over thirty years since he’s been involved in an early courtship, and even longer since he’s been the one to initiate the courtship. Or is that too much information?

It’s both nerve wracking and exciting. He hopes…he hopes he can have a dance with Oisin. Even one would be nice, but he’s unsure if it will be permitted considering….

“You need to stop that, be confident,” Allure reprimands. Tonlen rolls his eyes.

“Because it’s so easy to stop being nervous.”

“It is. You just remind yourself that you’re worth it and you move on to the good stuff.”

Tonlen arches his brow at her and shakes his head, nearly laughing in awe of her, “You really don’t understand this part, do you? Courtship is supposed to be nerve wracking, it’s tentative and new, and beautiful because it’s this new fluttering feeling in your stomach that you want to both stop and to never end because it happens only when you’re with that person.”

Her nose wrinkles, “That sounds horrible. No thank you, I have my list when I need to get my kinks out, that is plenty for me.”

Tonlen means to reply to her but he catches sight of a certain orange colored gown and straw-colored hair. He turns and there Oisin is, tall and radiant – just like at the shop. There is something different, though…the air surrounding…them. Oh. It’s a surprise, but what’s more concerning than that is the veritable horde around them. Tonlen recognizes Thenerassan, but there is also the almost client as well.

“This is where I take my leave, go get’em!” Allure whispers before slipping back into the crowd behind them.

He thinks of what Allure said about reminding himself he’s worth it. Because he is. Wow that is a lot people around Oisin. But before he can worry too much, a group splits off from the crowd, leaving Oisin with just their father and a couple of others.

Tonlen squares his shoulders and wiggles his toes, reminding himself that he looks damn good. He looks tall and beautiful and he is desirable. He smooths his hair back so that it is all tucked, slicked almost, behind his ears, cascading down his back in a shimmering display.

He walks over the dance floor, keeping his posture straight as he makes his way over to Oisin. He stops a fair distance away off from them, though, waiting until they see him. He isn’t staring but turned at an angle that allows him to appreciate the band playing while watching Oisin not so covertly inspect the crowd. Their eyes land on Tonlen and he pauses for a long moment, allowing them time to experience their own butterflies. He likes that thought. He makes them nervous just as they make him.

They look as if they mean to step forward, but something stops them and they turn to look…at Thenerassan. Ah.

Tonlen swallows and gathers himself. Oisin’s father is probably telling them to not approach him, which he can understand. Still, it makes Tonlen hesitate. But, no, Oisin is worth it and Tonlen is definitely worth it. He turns and smiles when he sees Oisin directly. They are spectacular in their burnt orange dress, it has a high collar and long voluminous sleeves but there are shimmering decorative seams that accentuate their chest and waist.

He turns and acts as if he’s just spied Oisin. He catches their eye and he smiles before striding to them.

A blush tints Oisin’s cheeks as Tonlen inclines his head in greeting, “What a treat to see you here, Oisin. You look radiant.”

They swallow, and several figures suddenly crowd around them, but before any of them speak, they manage to reply.

“Thank you, you look beautiful yourself.”

“You are as kind as you are lovely,” he says before turning to Thenerassan who is wearing a very critical look. The air around him is pointedly disapproving and he uses the slight height he still has on Tonlen to loom. Tonlen accepts it and enters a slight bow, with his foot behind him and everything.

“It is a pleasure to see you as well, Lord Thenerassan. I hope my work is suiting you?” He speaks while in his servile stance. Thenerassan is…very much above Tonlen’s station and Oisin’s father, insulting him is a disastrous idea.

“They are as you promised.” Tonlen rises slowly from his bow.

“I am pleased to hear that,” he says.

“So kind of you to ask, but now I must ask you to leave, we were having a family disc –

“Papae,” Oisin says, interrupting their father. Tonlen swallows. If Thenerassan truly wants him to leave…

“I understand, I do not wish to overstay my welcome. I am glad to see the shoes are treating you well.” He makes to back away when a small woman nudges Thenerassan.

“There is no need, we were just finished. It’s nice to meet you, Tonlen, I am Aili, Oisin’s mamae,” she says, smiling politely.

“Oh!” Tonlen says, smiling sweetly at her. What a darling woman, and he can suddenly see some of the family resemblance there, in the way Oisin smiles, it’s just like his mamae’s. “Pleased to meet you! It’s a delight to meet more of Oisin’s family.”

Another small person maneuvers next to Oisin, grinning broadly.

“Well, that’s great because there’s a lot of us,” she says, “I’m Mealla, Oisin’s big sister. And we were all just…going over there, weren’t we, Papae?” She says pointedly. Tonlen could hug her as she herds a still scowling Thenerassan away. Aili smiles and waves as she follows them, leaving Oisin with Tonlen.

“I must be honest, I am a little surprised that just happened,” he says.

“Yes, I…they’re not far, they’re probably listening to everything we’re saying,” they say, but they also take a slight step forward, their blush intensifying.

“I received your gift,” they start.

“Oh, oh good. Did you like it?” He asks softly, suddenly concerned that there is a chance they don’t.

“I loved it!” They say, blessedly interrupting his thoughts, “The scarf is beautiful and the poem was…I read it five times.”

“That warms my heart,” he replies, “does that mean you will permit me to send more gifts?”

Oisin nods readily, “Yes, I would like that very much.”

“Wonderful.” Tonlen extends a hand out to Oisin, smiling sweetly, “Would you care to dance?” Happiness colors the air around Oisin as they take Tonlen’s hand.

“I’d love to,” they say making Tonlen’s heart flutter like it’s preparing to take flight. He doesn’t think he can ever stop smiling as he guides Oisin to the dancefloor.

“I have a confession,” they say softly, still holding Tonlen’s hand. They have lovely hands, soft and larger than Tonlen’s own.

“Oh? Do tell,” Tonlen says, feeling flirty and happy as he leans close to Oisin. He moves to take their other hand for the current dance. They swallow and shake slightly as they raise their hand with his.

“I am not a good dancer.”

Their voice is tinged with embarrassment and nervousness. They look away, blushing fiercely and it just softens Tonlen’s expression.

“I’ll show you. This dance is simple, here.” Tonlen moves to show Oisin the starting position and the band eases into the dance. Oisin quickly follows Tonlen’s instruction and while it takes some finessing at first, Oisin is a quick learner. It’s a repetitive dance with only a few steps, and after the second repetition, Oisin gets the hang of it and moves more confidently along with Tonlen.

“There, you are doing beautifully,” Tonlen compliments. It’s not a dance that involves a lot of contact, but it’s pretty and allows for a lot of face to face time which is not something that other dances allow. He watches Oisin through a step and sighs.

“I want to know you.” It leaves his lips before he can even process it in his brain. And then it’s too late to take it back.

Oisin stutters and blushes and stumbles on a step, “What-what do you want to know? I’m not very interesting.”

“I find that hard to believe. And everything. I am greedy for knowledge, and in return, you can ask me anything as well, I love talking about myself,” he plays and a small laugh escapes Oisin.

“I gathered that!”

“I’m very mysterious, I know.” They turn, moving their hands in a fun move that makes Oisin laugh.

“You are to me,” they say when they come back into the face to face position.

“Then I’ll offer something. I think you can tell a great deal about a person from their family, or lack thereof. My mother is an attendant for Sylaise. I worked for Sylaise before Mana’din, in fact. My father is a jeweler, and my older brother is a baker.” All vey respectable professions. Oisin’s face lights up as Tonlen speaks and nods along.

“I agree, family says a lot, and I have a lot of family.” Their eyes dart away for a second before their expression turns sheepish. The next step has them closer and Tonlen tilts his head to the side.

“That can be good, but I know from my own family that it can be a bit annoying too.”

“Oh you have no idea,” Oisin deadpans. The song ends and Oisin takes Tonlen’s hand, turning him to look at a group of elves who had been near Oisin before.

“There’s Papae and Mamae and Mealla, who’ve you met. But there is also, my Nenae, Uthvir. Einin, my slightly older sister, and Ardal, my slightly older brother. And there is Virevas, my baby sister. Lavellan isn’t here, she’s on assignment, but she’s my eldest sister. And Nanae, Uthlin, is home right now, they’re not a fan of crowds.”

Tonlen blinks.

That.

That is a lot of people.

Six children. Four parents. Ten people. He…can scarcely picture Memae having a third child, let alone…this.

“That is….”

“A lot, I know.” They worry their lip and shrug, “but it’s also nice. I can’t imagine not having my siblings, I feel like it would be so…lonely.”

“It’s more like you have more privacy.”

“What’s that?” They ask and they both laugh. The crowd moves around them, but Tonlen doesn’t feel like moving from their spot yet, the band will play another dance soon anyways, they are simply taking a break.

“You said that…Einin and Ardal are only slightly older than you are?”

They nod, “Yeaah, we’re triplets. Ardal likes to call us former ‘womb-mates.’”

“That’s terrible. The pun, not the – triplets? That is amazing. I am willing to bet you three are the only triplets in all of Mana’din’s territories…even Arlathan!” He can’t get over it. But Oisin nods and looks...not uncomfortable but it is an expression that he recognizes as someone who is tired of talking about something. He probably gets the awe about his triplet status a lot, and it is probably exhausting.

Tonlen takes their hand and squeezes it gently.

“Your family is very interesting, but I would love to hear more about you, specifically.”

They smile and blush a bit, “Alright, but isn’t it your turn?”

“Forgive me, I am simply too eager to know you it seems. Let’s see. When I was little, I wanted to be a warrior. I didn’t fall in love with shoe making until I was older.” The band plays a quick ‘there is another dance coming soon’ noise that draws Oisin’s attention.

“Another dance is starting soon.”

“It is, we could go somewhere else and continue to talk if you would like,” Tonlen offers, careful to not presume that they would –

“Or we could dance some more,” Oisin offers. Tonlen grins and nods.

“I’d like that very much.”

The band cues up the song and Tonlen guides Oisin through the dance. They speak between instruction and laughing at the occasion bump or misstep. Oisin is not a strong dancer, but Tonlen cannot wish for any other partner right now. He finds himself utterly charmed by Oisin’s laugh and careful grip on him as they try to find their footing. They lean into him and follow his flirtations with endearing blushing and averted glances.

It is only when they say they’re an apprentice does Tonlen put it all together. They are young. Much younger than he is, at least. He wonders if he is their first real foray into this courtship world. And if it is…what a pressure. He wants to get this right for them, then. He doesn’t want them to go through anything less than wonderful. Tonlen’s own first courtship was…decent. He had largely been talked down to because he was young, and she was older, so she of course knew better than he did. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t good either. Later attempts at courting had gone much more smoothly because he knew what to not tolerate.

Oisin shouldn’t go through that. They are much too kind and lovely for it.

He learns also that they are a painter and he has an overwhelming desire to see them paint. To see works that they have already painted. He asks what they like to paint, and it ranges from people to flowers to animals. They love animals. They’re all darling to them and they are so excited that it infects Tonlen too. He talks about he’s been thinking about acquiring an animal companion to help combat the loneliness of moving to a new city.

Oisin is thrilled by the idea. Their father keeps birds apparently, and they talk about all the birds they have come to care for, which is all of them. They are adorable as they go on about their little bird friends.

He doesn’t realize the dance is over until Oisin is standing still and hesitantly retracting their hands from his. He doesn’t want to let them go but it is appropriate, so he lets them. But he doesn’t stop smiling and he doesn’t step away from them.

“You are the most delightful person I have met in this city,” he chuckles. He is about to ask them to another dance when a familiar elf appears. Oisin turns and steps away from Tonlen, fully withdrawing.

“Nenae, we were just –

“Dancing, I saw. Are you having a good time?” This is their nenae so this is Uthvir. Uthvir pointedly directs their question to Oisin, who nods and smiles small.

“I was, am! Tonlen is an excellent dancer, he makes me look like I know what I’m doing.” They glance at Tonlen and he smiles, making his posture small and more servile.

“It’s an honor to dance with them,” he says, directly to Uthvir, but he slides his gaze to Oisin at the end. Their freckles become more difficult to see when they blush, the red disguises the little spots of brown over their nose and their cheeks. He can’t figure out which is cuter – the blush or the freckles.

“Your siblings want to go apple bobbing, specifically your brother. They’re forming teams and your sisters are ganging up on him,” Uthvir says. They’re maneuvering Oisin away, most likely to interrogate him themselves.

Oisin looks to Tonlen, mouth moving to say something before sighing, “I had a lovely time, I-I have to go.”

Tonlen smiles and nods, “Go, have fun, back your brother up. I had a wonderful time, as well.” Oisin pauses, then leaves, disappearing off the dance floor, a beautiful flash of orange through the crowd.

Uthvir, however, does not leave.

“You are courting my child,” Uthvir says.

“They are a wonderful person worth courting, I am simply honored that they may return the sentiment,” Tonlen replies. They turn to him and look at him the way his memae would look at his suitors. She’d dig up dirt on them all, see them, truly see them and evaluate them like she could see every fiber of who they are with that gaze. Uthvir has that kind of gaze. But sharper.

“I am not a bad person. I know no one will admit to being bad, but I really am not. I make shoes, I love animals too, I take no pleasure in harming others. I’m a good person. And I like Oisin, a lot, they’re special and I want to make them feel just how special they are.” He can’t believe he just said all that but at the same time he couldn’t not say it. He doesn’t want to stop courting Oisin because of their parents. He doesn’t want there to be this misconception that he is anything other than sincere and good. He will stop if Oisin wants him too but that should be Oisin’s choice or Tonlen’s choice.

Uthvir stands still and continues to level that gaze at him.

“That has yet to be seen. I want to believe you, do not give me reason to not,” is all they say before they turn and leave.

Well. That was ominous and vaguely threatening. But it wasn’t exactly condemnation, either. He watches them go with a lump in his throat. It is probably not a good idea to seek Oisin out again tonight. They had their dances and their talk. Talk that Tonlen did not want to end but there will be other times. There are more gifts to give and poetry to write.

Tonlen smiles and sets out to find Allure. She’ll distract him and keep him from making a fool out of himself for the rest of the night. Hopefully.

#tonlen #oisin #tonlen x oisin #fic #clusterfuck triplets au #lillotte17 #thenvunin #uthvir #allure #tonlen is lonely and is going to get a pupper #sail ship sail!#also i am no poet but i tried lol

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lillotte17 · 6 years

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@feynites said: *sends mental image of babies falling asleep on uthvirs*

It is a warm lazy afternoon, and the triplets and Virevas are all about ten months old. They are all beginning to settle into their new home, and their new life. Although it is not too different from the way they had been living at the Hidden Estate.

Aili returns from a quick trip to the market in town to a relatively quiet house. Uthvir and Mealla have gone to Daran for a few brief meetings about the new security measures around Mana'Din's palace, and discussions on training for some of their newer agents. And Lavellan is visiting with Pride, which she has mixed feelings about. Lavellan was already grown by the time she became a part of her family, but she is still protective of her welfare, and while he is not evil, per se, her chosen paramour is…dangerous. Aili would prefer to keep him well away from all of them, but she can respect the fact that Lavellan is old enough to be making her own decisions about her love life.

It doesn't mean she has to like it, however.

There are sounds of loud delighted squealing and vigorous splashing that leads her to believe that Thenvunin is in the process of attempting to bathe at least two of the children. And by the sounds of the voices she can hear, one of them is likely Ardal, which means he has his work cut out for him. She considers joining him immediately and seeing if he needs an extra pair of hands, but she is still wearing some light armor and a few concealed blades about her person, and she should probably remove them before handling anyone with soft delicate baby skin.

Her bedroom is simple, but airy; done over in cool blues and soft creams and accents in bronze. There are three large sunny windows enchanted to look out over the paddock for the halla back at the Hidden Estate. A large meadow full of wildflowers surrounded by tall trees and distant mountains. All of her furniture is curved and organically shaped, with touches of delicate leaf and floral patterns here and there. Not a harsh color or sharp corner in sight. The entire space seems to radiate an aura of calm.

And when she opens the door to her room on this day, she is met with the sight of Vhenan lounging in something of a small pillow fortress they have built across the expanse of her bed, with a baby tucked securely under each arm. Einin and Oisin, curled against the warm bare skin of their nanae's chest, sleeping soundly. They have their own bedroom, of course, but they tend to only use it for their Deep Sleeps, and the storage of anything that could potentially be hazardous to infants. So, they end up sleeping with her more often than not. Usually with at least one of their children nestled between them, safe and cozy.

She smiles warmly, trailing silent footsteps into the room, and doing her best to remove the outer layers of her gear without making too much noise. She doubts that Uthvir is truly sleeping, though their eyes are closed at the moment. However, the scene is such a lovely one that it seems almost a crime to intrude on it. After all they have been through, the suffering and separation, and being lost to one another in almost every way they could be, to see them here, like this, in their own home, with their own children, is…miraculous. More than she had ever truly let herself hope for.

When she is down to her soft layers, she walks closer to the bed, moving a few pillows over so that she can slide onto the mattress beside them. A serene sort of happiness suffuses the air around her, as she reaches over to brush a few strands of hair back from Uthvir's face. They blink open their eyes to look at her, and she is caught for a moment, as she still is sometimes, by the bright sky blue of their gaze. Still expecting brown, after all these years.

"Have they had their lunch yet?" Aili asks quietly, carefully pulling Einin into her arms as she snuggles in beside them.

"About a half an hour ago," Nightmare confirms, "It seemed to make these two sleepy, but Ardal began throwing his sweet potatoes at one point, and then Virevas followed suit with her mashed peas. So, Thenvunin decided that he should clean them off before trying to put them down for a nap."

"It did sound like there was a lot of ruckus going on in there," Aili hums, "Should I go lend him a hand?"

"They are having fun," they reply, "No one is worried or upset. Although, I suspect Thenvunin is likely fussing about something or another, as that is his usual state of being. Stay here with me. I have two children to wrangle as well, you know."

"Does he really not need the help, or are you just angling for a bit of alone time?" Aili wonders with a faint grin.

"It cannot be both?" Uthvir wonders with the beginnings of a smirk, reaching their free hand over and pulling the tie off the end of her braid. Carefully unravelling it until her hair is tumbling across her shoulders in long golden waves. "Not that we are precisely alone at the moment."

"As close to it as we are likely to be for a long while," Aili replies with a pleased sigh, pressing a light kiss into the dark red curls on her little daughter's head.

Vhenan hums in agreement, seeming content to simply lay there with her and two of their children, slowly running fingers through her hair. She studies their face for a moment, pensive, as she sometimes is when they actually catch a moment to breathe. They have all endured such hardship to reach this place, this peace, and yet she is not entirely certain…

"Are you happy?" Aili asks in a low whisper, "I mean… I can tell that you aren't especially upset by this turn of events, and I know that you love all of our children, but… We never really talked about…any of this. Having children and essentially moving to the country. I always knew I wanted to be with you, marry you if I could, but even though I wanted it, I thought that hoping for children would be too much. So, I never mentioned it."

"I had my suspicions," they admit, shifting close enough to nuzzle their nose into her hair a little, "Your desires have always been a bit…transparent."

Aili makes a face at them.

"It is one of your most endearing qualities, I assure you," Uthvir smirks, "Although, it did cause some me concern here and there over the years. Since there seemed to be such a high chance of discovery. None of it seemed capable of convincing me that you were not worth the risk, however."

She leans in a bit to press a kiss against their lips for that.

"It did sort of end in disaster, or at least…it seemed like it had. For a long time. I'm not certain I would change anything though, given the current outcome," Aili sighs. "And you didn't really answer my question. Did you want this at all? Are you happy?"

"I am always happy to be where you are," they tell her with enough frankness that color rises in her cheeks, "I…never really considered having children, in the time before. I did not think I would be a particularly good parent, given my background. And Andruil's palace would not have been a safe place to raise them, even if she had miraculously granted us permission. Just being with you was almost more than I had dared to dream of. To find a person who would accept me so completely, even with all I might be lacking… I wanted it, but I did not truly think it would happen. And when it did, wishing for anything more almost seemed…selfish. Greedy. As if we might be punished for taking more than our share. ...Perhaps we were."

They close their eyes, and press their nose into the curve of her neck, breathing her in deep.

"When you were gone… When I could no longer feel your heart attached to mine, my only wish was to have you back," they breathe out against her skin, "But when you placed Mealla in my arms that first night… I knew she was ours, confused as I was, and I never wanted to let her go. It is a little overwhelming, at times, to be a parent, but I would not give it up. I would not exchange it for anything else I might gain. And when we learned about the new babies, I was worried for you, but excited to meet them, too. Our children are a small, glorious horde."

"Then…you are happy?" Aili presses, running her free hand down their side to squeeze at their hip at little. Tender and just the tiniest bit possessive.

"Entirely," they hum in reply, shifting their arm a bit when Oisin makes a slight sound of discomfort in his sleep.

"Good,"Aili says with a deep relieved sigh, curling into them further and tangling their legs together just a bit, "I am too."

#Aili lavellan #uthvir #Clusterfuck AU #clusterfuck triplets #fic #the sharp one likes your shine!#poor thenvunin has been abandoned to the Loud Children #bc Aili and her vhenan are having a Moment #oops #>_>#Aili will likely go help eventually #especially if it sounds like Ardal and Vir are being extra wiggly #but he probably likes getting some alone time with them too

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