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crowkingwrites · 5 years

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Battle of the Bands (Ch.20)

Pairing: Robb Stark x Reader, Jon Snow x Reader, Viserys Targaryen x Reader, Ramsay Bolton X Reader

Summary: You just moved into the city for the first tie all by yourself. After you get your dream summer job working for a small magazine, you find yourself in the middle of the city’s rock festival: Battle of the Bands. Local rock bands throughout the city compete to win a record deal that could change their lives. Your job? Get close to them and write about them online.A single girl in the city surrounded by rocker boys during the summertime. What could possibly go wrong?

Words: 1107 // AO3 Link

Chapter One // Chapter Two // Chapter Three // Chapter Four // Chapter Five // Chapter Six // Chapter Seven // Chapter Eight // Chapter Nine // Chapter Ten // Chapter Eleven // Chapter Twelve // Chapter Thirteen // Chapter Fourteen // Chapter Fifteen

Ramsay’s Ending (Chapter 16) Viserys’ Ending (Chapter 17) Jon’s Ending (Chapter Eighteen) Robb’s Ending (Chapter 19)

Your Ending - The Middle

“What?” Viserys reacted. “You’re not with Ramsay? But he said—

“You’re suing the whole magazine and this was all my fault. I—

“Did Robb Stark fire you?”

“No, well—

“Why are you here?” Viserys asked. His voice was different this time. It held no anger or rage, but confusion. “Did you come for me?”

“I…I came for me,” you gave Viserys your biggest shit smile. “I didn’t come here for you.” You watched Viserys’ face turn into something sour. He huffed and shifted his stance. He opened his mouth.

“You know—

“Know what? Were you going to say something sexy and clever? Don’t worry, I’ll assume it was something to do with how slutty I am, right?” You started to walk away from the rockstar until you had something else on your mind. You stopped and turned to see Viserys still standing there, almost dumbfounded.

“Hey Viz!” you called out to him. Viserys looked back to you, meeting your eyes. “Being a slut isn’t a bad thing. Maybe you should try it sometime after all, you’re desperate for someone to fuck you, right?”

You heard him say a comment back, but it was too late. You felt the sun shine down on you like the gods themselves were proud of your embracing your active sexuality. You made your way out of the festival and back to your apartment.

A day later, you found yourself in your car with mostly everything inside. You followed your dad’s van on the highway back to your parent’s house. Your best friend was on speaker phone with you.

“I fucking forgot your hometown is literally the cutest town in the world,” Margaery said. “Are you going to work at your dad’s bookstore?”

“Yeah,” you chuckled and glanced behind you. Margaery’s truck kept most of furniture in place, but seeing Margaery behind the wheel of a vehicle twenty times her size was too funny to ignore. “He introduced me to books. He knows I love books as much as he does.”

“But would you want to stay there?”

“I don’t know,” you smiled to yourself. “I guess we’ll find out once time passes. Maybe I’ll move back into King’s City, maybe I won’t.”

“You’re not gonna quit writing are you? I really liked your articles. You’re really funny to read,” Margaery said.

“No,” you sighed. “But, there’s no newspapers hiring in my town. There’s nothing out there.”

“So make something.”

Margaery’s words stuck with you when you unpacked everything in your old room. Margaery stood with you for a week to see your hometown. You walked along the river and took a day trip to the local boardwalk where your dad’s bookshop was. Margaery particularly loved the princess-themed tea room she visited.

You both shared a sad goodbye. She went back to King’s City and you were back home. Summer turned into Fall and then December slowly crept up to you.

Working at your dad’s bookshop was a nice change. No boys were down your throat or up your ass. You found a new peace as you’re your fingers would touch the spines of the fictional characters that gave you comfort and love over all these years. You returned to your desk where the register was.

“What’s wrong kiddo?” you father asked.

“Am I making a mom face?”

“Yeah, you’re making a mom face. What’s wrong?”

You let out a loud sigh and looked out the window. “I miss writing. I guess. I don’t know. Maybe I’ll write fanfiction or something.” You chuckled to yourself. You would never write fanfiction. Fanfic writers were a special breed of sleepless, late-night suffering, burrito blanket wearing people. You admired them for everything they did, but you wanted something more.

“Do what Margie told you.”

“Make something? What? Do I write a book?”

“No, start a magazine,” your dad smiled. “You worked at one.”

“Yeah, I worked at a small magazine for a couple of months. I don’t think I’m qualified to start one.” You started shaking your head.

“Well, why not?”

“It’s-I’m just—

“I quit being a lawyer to run this shop. I love books. That was my experience. I never once worked at a bookshop before. I just loved books.” Your dad had a point. “You worked for a magazine. West Rivers doesn’t have a trendy magazine, but we could.”

An idea came to mind. It burned and it filled your stomach with joy. You grabbed your laptop and opened it. You hadn’t spoken with the Stark family in months, but, if anything, you knew deep down they were good people. You started an email telling your story and asking for advice on how to start a magazine or just how to start something.

You bit your lip down hard. Maybe they wouldn’t respond. Maybe you left everyone angry and pissed off. Why would they help you? You got the magazine sued. They probably hate you.

You took a deep breath. No, you wouldn’t let your anxiety get the best of you again. The email was sent. The worst thing they could do was never respond.

For the next two days, you decorated your home for the holidays with your mom. Lights and candles were everywhere. You switched on your mom’s Hallmark channel and stepped into the kitchen to make hot chocolate. Your phone buzzed.

Y/N,

I am soooooo happy you reached out to me! Once I heard you left, I was so sad. I really wanted to meet you. [Plus, is it weird that bran told me you were gonna reach out to me?] I’m so so so sorry for how things turned out for you. Jon and Robb can be…true Stark men sometimes. Ugh.

Jon’s in the music studio! He’s working on his first album. Robb and I still have the magazine. We didn’t get sued after all. Viserys didn’t have enough evidence to take us to court. He’s just the whiniest baby. [Sister’s pretty cool though, not gonna lie] And I spoke with Ramsay yesterday and we talked about you. He still thinks of you time to time. And he’s also going to be my personal lawyer to take my brand to the next level.

ANYWAYSSS, I would be so happy to help you start your brand! Robb told me about the cute river town you live in. I’d like to visit so we can talk face to face! Maybe sometime next year? How does that sound?

Love, Sansa Stark

You smiled and started your reply.

“Sansa, I think this is a start of a beautiful friendship. Let’s meet up next month.”

Note to Self: You can be badass all by yourself.

In this order:

Chapter 16 - Ramsay’s Ending Chapter 17 - Viserys’ Ending Chapter 18 - Jon’s Ending Chapter 19 - Robb’s Ending Chapter 20 - Your Ending

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#battle of the bands #batb #ramsay bolton #robb stark #jon snow #viserys targaryen #multiple ending fic #fanfic #got #got fanfic

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weneedtherooks · 6 years

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Friedrich, Aimless.

Hi look I did a thing

July 16, 1914

The bedside clock read 4:30am. 18 year old Friedrich Rosenthal’s nose scrunched up as he squinted at the clock; an absurd hour, but nevertheless, he quietly rolled out of the bed, careful not to wake last night’s “partner”. Shivering at the early morning chill, he started searching for his clothes. This had become something of a habit. The exploration of his sexuality had been quite a trip already, but this was getting ridiculous. He looked at the still sleeping man in bed; a recruitment scout who’d gotten curious enough to approach Friedrich about spending the night. Lucky for him, Friedrich was on good terms with the hotel staff here. Hopefully he still would be with the good captain after this. I can at least leave him some money to get breakfast or something… He found a scrap of paper and a pen, scribbling out a small thank you and apology. Between nurses in training, curious soldiers, and the men and women who just wanted a piece of him...he still felt strangely hollow. Friedrich ran his hand through his hair, quieting his thoughts. I don’t have time for this. And where the hell did my pants…? He found the damned things slung across a nearby chair (and didn’t want to know how they managed to get there). Friedrich sighed, tossing his shirt on over his head. He carefully opened the door and slipped into the narrow hallway. The trip down the stairs was uneventful, thank god. Given the early hour, only a handful of people were up and about, and their scrupulous staring was easy to ignore. Not like they haven’t been giving you those judging stares since you were 16, anyway. The woman sitting at the front desk gave him an unreadable look, but it was without judgement. He told her that the room was paid for today as well, and that his company was free to leave whenever. With a nod, she went back to whatever magazine she’d been reading. The walk home seemed a bit cold, for June anyway. Or maybe it’s just because he felt a chilling dread creep up the back of his neck. After all, he could only imagine the shit he’d hear once he got home. He sent up a quick prayer that Derrick would still be asleep. “I probably should have a smoke,” he muttered, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket, along with his matchbox. Lighting the cigarette, he inhaled deeply, pulling his shirt collar open and blowing the smoke down inside. “Hopefully that’ll cover the smell,” he grumbled, annoyed at himself for not washing up at the hotel. He always loved the early mornings here. The sun had risen not too long ago, the street lights still lit in some areas. The elderly woman who owned the bakery waved him down, handing him a small bag of rolls. “Danke schön,” he whispered, giving the woman a warm smile. “Child, you never eat before you leave that place. Someone has to make sure you do before you get home,” she whispered back, patting his cheek lovingly. “I do try not to be so obvious about it…” “Perhaps you should pick a different route home, than.” Friedrich chuckled. “But I wouldn’t pass by your lovely home.” “Yes, I would miss spoiling you in these early hours.” Friedrich tried paying her again, but as always, she shoved him off with a wave goodbye. As he began to make his way down the street towards his house, Friedrich briefly got lost in his thoughts. What exactly am I looking for in all this? I mean, it isn’t like I’ll miraculously find anything special with the people I’m fucking, so why do I keep doing it? Because you’re no good at anything else. That’s not true. Yes it is. You have no purpose. Why else would you bother? It’s not like any of those people are going to come back for you. All they’ve wanted is a good lay, and you know it. Face it, Fritz. You’ve got nothing. He shook his head, smacking his cheek lightly. He didn’t need to walk through the front door red eyed from crying. Taking one last puff, he dropped the cigarette butt on the ground and snubbing it out with his heel. He pushed open the front door, trying not to make a sound. “In before 8? I’m shocked, Fritz.” Friedrich groaned. At least it’s Melanie. It could have been Derrick. “Aren't we just thrilled with my arrival?” he asked, stepping into the kitchen. His sister-in-law peeked over her shoulder at him. “It could have been your brother instead of me. At least you get breakfast before I lecture you.” His lip twitched. “I think I’ll stick with the look of concerned disappointment from my mother,” he mumbled, setting the rolls down on the counter next to her. Melanie turned and pinned him with a hard glare. For a woman who barely reached his collarbone, she had quite the nasty glare. “Perhaps if you listened for once, the looks and lectures would stop,” she countered, her voice low. She jerked her chin in the direction of the stairs. “You can have breakfast after you’ve cleaned up.” He rolled his eyes, huffing loudly as he tried to snuff out the guilt he felt flaring in his gut as he headed up the stairs. It’s not that he hadn't listened to them about his more recent escapades. He had a decent job doing dock work, he’d read pretty much every book they had in the house, even tended to Derrick’s little garden after he left. He’d tried anything and everything, and all he had for his efforts in that was a clean bill of health. A miracle of God, according to Doctor Armin, not that his brother and his alcohol habit were in any position to judge. Hell, even his younger brother, Erich, had his life together better than him. Thinking about his brother, he peeked into their bedroom, noticing Erich was out cold. He must have the day off, too. Lucky kid. He sighed as he stepped into the washroom, closing the door behind him. He was tempted to pass out on the floor and sleep right there, but if he skipped breakfast...he may as well dig his own grave. Leaning against the sink, he stared wearily at his reflection. Wasn't eighteen supposed to be the age for humor and hijinks or some shit? Something about becoming a man? As good as he was at hijinks, and as much of a “man” as people claimed he was...there was no humor in his life. He was beginning to wish he’s just end up dead in a ditch...at least he wouldn’t be such a hassle that way. He ran a hand across his jaw; he hadn’t bothered shaving in a while. He probably resembled a homeless beggar: rough beard, shaggy hair, bags under his eyes. Lifting the edge of his shirt to his nose, he winced. Dammit, I still smell like sex. No wonder Mel was pissed off. He gently touched the black eye he’d had. Damn thing was finally starting to fade. Stupid bar fight, and over Grete even. She’d still ended up in his bed rather than the other guy’s. Not that it accomplished much, she turned out to be a lousy lay. In the end, the biggest prize he’d won that night was the black eye. Tilting his head, he decided his hair could use a trim; Friedrich had let the unruly waves grow a tad too long...but any shorter and his hair would simply curl...especially when it got wet. Dumb Curls it is, than. He found a happy medium a few moments later; not unfashionable, but also not Dumb Curls. Deciding on a quick bath, he strolled into his room, quelching a groan as his brother looked up at him. “Oh, you’re back,” Erich yawned. “Oh please, not you too.” “Jesus, sorry,” Erich grumbled, rubbing an eye as he gave his older brother an annoyed look. “Language, Erich.” “Speak for yourself, dummkopf. You aren’t much older than me, and I know you’ve said worse.” He’s got me there. “Doesn’t mean you need to follow suit. I cause Mama enough stress as is.” “You bet you do.” Erich watched as Friedrich dug around for some clean clothes. “Hey, before you take a bath, mind if I piss first?” Friedrich rolled his eyes. “So much class, little brother,” he muttered. “Hurry up, ja?” “You got it.” “By the way...do you know if Derrick is home?” “Why does it matter?” “Erich. Answer.” Erich shook his head, walking past his older brother. “It’s not like you’ll get out of getting scolded…” No, but now I know what to expect of the Royal Asshole. By the time Friedrich made it downstairs, his oldest brother had returned. He clearly hadn’t slept again, and his hands and trousers were covered in dirt. Did I just miss him when I got home? Shit. “I’m sure you’ve already heard this-” “Yes, Derrick, I’m home earlier than usual. I need to learn some form of self respect, and I’m making everyone very concerned for my well-being. I’m planning on going to the recruitment office later today, so hopefully that appeases you.” “You could at least tell me who she was,” he answered, ignoring Friedrich’s sarcasm, “and didn’t you say you were going yesterday?” Friedrich pulled out a chair at the table, keeping his mouth shut. “I did.” “Did what? And you missed the part about who you fucked over.” “Derrick,” Melanie chided quietly. A pointless effort, as her husband ignored her. “Went to recruitment. There was a change in plans. And there wasn’t a girl.” Derrick’s lips formed a hard line. “Don’t you dare tell me it was the officer.” When he answered by shoving a wad of ham in his mouth, Derrick sighed irritably. “Really? Now is when you decided to start sleeping with men more often? It’s dangerous enough as is if anyone caught you, Friedrich, but the recruitment officer? And right in the middle of all this shit? We’re looking at war, little brother. Now’s not the-” Friedrich slammed his hands on the table. “I wasn’t the one who suggested it! He put out the offer, I accepted!” “And did it possibly occur to you that he simply wanted to out you?” “Seriously? You think I’m that stupid?” “Is there any chance we could, you know, just eat breakfast and not argue?” Erich asked meekly, raising a hand. “We’re all going to sign up for the military, so maybe…” Melanie nodded. “Yes, let’s do that. Derrick, he understands your concerns, he always has.” “Really? He could have fooled me.” Oh, fuck this. Friedrich shoved away from the table. “Okay, Derrick, you know what? I’m done. I’m done with constantly being told what an awful person I’m being! I’m sorry that I don’t have my life all together like you do! I’m sorry that I’m not YOU! But I’ve had it with your overbearing bullshit!” he shouted, practically throwing his chair into the table. Melanie stood up, trying to catch up with Friedrich as he stomped towards the front door. Derrick followed only as far as the end of the hall. “Friedrich, where are you going?” Melanie asked, a mixture of frustration and concern on her face. “Recruitment. Maybe I’ll find some God-given purpose in this war,” he muttered angrily, snatching a jacket off the coat hanger. He hoped for a moment it was Derricks. “And who knows,” he leaned around his sister to yell at his eldest sibling, “maybe I’ll just get shot and you won’t have to deal with me anymore!” “Friedrich Wilhelm, that’s enough!” He scoffed, ignoring Derrick’s shouting and Melanie’s hurt gasp. Thankfully, he couldn’t see Erich’s expression. Even better, his mother wasn’t around to see this. As he stormed down the front sidewalk, he heard someone following close behind him. He didn’t bother to turn around; it sounded like Mel anyway, and he didn’t want to face her right now. He managed to halfway to the recruitment office when he finally broke down. Tucking himself into a nearby alley, he wrapped an arm around himself, sobbing hard into his free hand. I know my life is a mess! Do they really think I’m so blind?! They just don’t get it. I’m not someone people rely on, I’m someone people use. And who in their right mind WOULD rely on me? I’m useless. He tried to calm himself down, taking in a few deep, ragged breaths. Leaning against the brick wall, he wiped the tears away from his eyes. Staring at the clouds above him, he began to wonder...what, exactly, was his purpose?

God, please let me find my purpose in this upcoming war. Because if I can’t find it there…where else will I find it?

#shitty dialogue #friedrich rosenthal #my ocs #thanks for being patient with me!#derrick rosenthal #melanie rosenthal #erich rosenthal

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brialavellan · 6 years

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Summary: It has been 20 years since Inquisitor ‘Manehn Lavellan defeated Corypheus, and 18 years since the Exalted Council. Solas is furthering his plans and so far, all efforts to stop him seem to be in vain….until the Well of Sorrows begins to speak to ‘Manehn once more. Led by ancient magics and beset by enemies from Ferelden and Orlais to Antiva and Tevinter, 'Manehn must gather allies old and new in a race against time to defeat Solas - at any cost.

(NOW ON AO3)

Note: Elain Lavellan (who will have a more prominent role) belongs to @teknon. Please check out her amazing fic - Exalted

CH 2: LEAD THEM OR FALL

Briala had not visited the Grand Cathedral in many years. Not by choice and never for Faith. The gold, grim statues of Andraste and the glittering stained glass windows sent shivers up her back as she passed by them.

Two Chantry mothers were standing nearby, giggling and pointing as she approached, bandying the word “knife ear” back and forth with enough vigor and volume for everyone to hear. Especially Briala. They were obviously young and naïve, likely lesser siblings of lesser houses, and Briala could tell they would not have lasted a day in Court.

They were tactless and tasteless, this petty display all purely designed to humiliate her.

She should have kept walking.

Instead, Briala stopped for a second to address them, “Good evening, sisters,” she said curtly, with just enough annoyance in her voice to simultaneously scandalize and shame them.

They glanced at her in shock, then skittered off, whispering hurried blessings to the Marquise as a blush began to freckle both of their faces.

Briala beamed. She did not always stoop to such petty displays of power, but time and her title had made her bolder, to the discomfort of many.

Well, almost everyone.

Briala kept walking, eventually reached a small two story building in the far right corner of the grounds, housing for the Hands that served the Divine. This was where ‘Manehn and her daughter, Mirwen, had taken residence since the Inquisition had been disbanded.

She had barely rapped on the door when ‘Manehn ushered her inside.

“I saw you talking to those Chantry sisters,” ‘Manehn said with a smirk as she entered the apartment, “they looked like they were going to leap right out of their robes.”

“Elves with titles still shock.” Briala replied with a small shrug as they ascended the stairs towards ‘Manehn’s private study, “and some have to be reminded that our titles aren’t meaningless.”

“And someone just likes to see Chantry mothers squirm just a little bit,” ‘Manehn said with a coy smile, “but it’s hard not to be flustered by a woman with such poise and grace.”

Briala smiled back but said nothing as they approached the study.

The Divine’s Apartments were a thing of beauty, opulent to the point of ostentatious. Every room nearly glittered from crystal chandeliers, polished marble, Serault stained glass, and gilded gold trim on every piece of furniture and along every surface. In extreme contrast, ‘Manehn’s study was sparsely decorated, containing only large mahogany bookshelves stuffed to the brim with books and loose parers, and a single, spartan wooden desk. Her dagger and prosthetic laid on top of the desk, along with a whetstone and a bloody cloth, which had been used to scrape away the bits of dried blood from the day before.

A small bed sat in the corner, well used from the many times ‘Manehn’s work had kept her sequestered in her study for days at a time.

“18 years,” ‘Manehn said as she sat at her desk, “and he waited this long to make a move in Orlais?”

“Maybe he’s waiting for all of us to die of old age,” Briala said wryly, as she sat across from her, “it would certainly help his plans if you were out of the way.”

“Well, he’s immortal, he has all the time in the world,“ ‘Manehn said, brushing her hair back, exposing the small slivers of gray sparsely sprinkled through her short black hair. “Me, not so much.”

“But are his followers willing to wait?” Briala asked. “Some may tire of waiting so long for the future he promises. I don’t need intel to know that there are fractures we could exploit.”

“Well, whatever future they think they’re getting, they’ll be a teeny bit disappointed.” ‘Manehn said, leaning back in her chair. “But all that’s irrelevant when I have no reliable leads, and no credible reports on his activities, machinations, or even his whereabouts….”

She plucked a piece of parchment from a drawer on her desk and handed it to Briala.

“Was this the evidence you found about elves working with Fen’harel?”

“No idea,” ‘Manehn said with a sly grin, “but it shut the Grand Cleric up.”

“Clever,” Briala said with a small smile, plucking a bloodstained parchment from her small satchel and placing it on the desk. “From the agent who betrayed me yesterday.”

“Does it have any useful information?”

“I have no idea. It’s in a cipher. Probably the same cipher as the one on the note you found.”

“Can you break the cipher?”

“Maybe. In a few weeks,” Briala said with a slight shrug of her shoulders. “Besides, the cipher has very likely been changed, based on how the paper is relatively aged.”

“So, we have nothing but a useless piece of paper and a bunch of dead elves,” ‘Manehn said, with obvious annoyance.

“So pessimistic,” Briala teased, “Don’t you want a lead on past activities? This is the closest thing to a history on his movements or objectives that we would have.” She took the paper and showed it to ‘Manehn. “For example, we know his agents are foolish enough to not burn their correspondence.”

“And depending on the disorganized mess that was the previous assassination attempt,” Briala continued, “this might be a disaffected group, gone rogue. Maybe they aren’t his at all.”

‘Manehn leaned back in her seat, contemplating Briala’s words. “Could they be ours? As in ‘recruit them’?”

“I doubt it. They are likely very angry with him, feel he’s lied and betrayed them -”

“Oh yeah? His allies feel betrayed and like he’s lied to them? How shocking,” ‘Manehn said, her voice steeped in bitterness.

Briala shook her head. “You need to stop carrying this burden.”

“I would, if others would let me.”

“Vivienne doesn’t care, or the Divine. In fact, do any of your friends care?” Briala reached across the desk with an outstretched hand, “I don’t care. I want you to put this away. Anger only carries you for so long.”

“Unless you have nothing left to replace it with,” ‘Manehn said before rising to her seat and walking towards the door.

“Do we have any other business?”

Briala shook her head.

“Feel free to stay as long as you like, of course,” ‘Manehn said, “or you can come to the meeting later. Your choice.”

“’Manehn, I -” Briala tried to call after her, but she was already gone. She placed her head in her hands and let out a long exasperated sigh.

I do understand. More than you know.

‘Manehn left her apartments and walked towards the Grand Cathedral. Every step felt like quicksand. Her head throbbed with a dull pain, her eyes still slightly burned from the toxic cloud cast last night, and the stump of her left arm was tender and swollen. She had never felt so aged, so powerless in so many years. The dull pain mixed with self doubt, swirling around and haranguing her. She quickened her pace, a futile attempt to escape from the sickening swelling in her chest, until she heard a voice call from the nearby garden.

“’Manehn!”

She turned and saw Vivienne, now dressed in red and white, her braids pinned into a large bun that rested comfortably on top of her head, gently waving her over as a small sister with cream-colored blonde hair and a progressively whitening face squirmed in place, like a mouse in a sickly, sticky trap.

‘Manehn promptly changed course and greeted Vivienne with a small bow, eyes glancing at the scared sister standing next to her.

“Good to see you again in much more pleasant settings,” she turned towards the Chantry sister, now shaking in place, “and hello to you as well, sister.”

The scared sister gave a panicked yelp, returning her greeting with a flurry of frightened apologies.

“You may go now, my dear,” Vivienne said, with the slightest snarl and a matching smile. “Give my regards to Carolina.”

‘Manehn could barely stifle her laughter as they walked to a secluded spot, a stone bench beneath blossoming cherry trees where both spent many days over many years, before both had gray hairs and wrinkles at their eyes.

“Might I ask exactly what heinous crime that sister committed?” ‘Manehn asked, with no small amount of delight, “She has so little color left in her, I almost believed for a second that you literally murdered her.”

“As opposed to metaphorically, I assume?” Vivienne said.

“Your tongue turned against an enemy was always more terrifying than your magic.”

Vivienne laughed, bringing her hand delicately to her face to hide her smile. “Don’t trouble yourself. She was just a fool with little sense, and even less dignity.”

“Should I?,” ‘Manehn said, with some incredulity. “She obviously caused me great offense.”

“And the offense she cause me was greater,” Vivienne said. “She tried to play to play the Game against a person who is defenseless, who never leaves these grounds unless I am with her, and who is, again, wearing shades and patterns almost thee years out of style because she is not allowed to keep up.”

“You’re talking about my daughter.”

“Who you also have yet to bring to court in any capacity of importance,” Vivienne added. “She is eighteen now, is she not? You cannot protect her from the Game, my dear. She is playing whether she is here or not. The sister wished to play. I cannot be her intermediary. I cannot play for her.”

“She’s still too young,” ‘Manehn said, an immediate and swift protest to the notion. “They’ll tear her apart.”

“Then you must teach her how to defend herself,” Vivienne said, with greater sternness. “Do you honestly believe they don’t whisper the same slurs that they do here? She is an intelligent, insightful and measured young woman with plenty of wit and a quiet, unassuming charm that would put many nobles dangerously at ease. She would do far better than you think. Now let us leave before Cassandra’s impatience overwhelms her.”

There was nothing but contemplative silence between them both at they made their way in the Cathedral, to Divine Victoria’s study.

“I have two things to say,” ‘Manehn said and she pushed open the solid oak doors with her shoulder, “I’m sorry I left you alone and I’m quite impressed.”

“I know to use a blade!” Cassandra said in protest.

“No, I mean, with the ceremony,” ‘Manehn said with a small laugh. “I know it’s something you hate, and I know Vivienne had to convince you….actually…” ‘Manehn turned back to Vivienne, “how did you convince her?”

“Because she knows it is what must be done, whether she likes it or not,” Vivienne said with a smile and a soft glance, “one of your many positive attributes as Divine.”

“And you have been a more-than-sufficient advisor to me - I mean, to the Chantry on the Circle and magic,” Cassandra said with a small blush rising to her cheeks as she stumbled on her words.

“If we could,” ‘Manehn said, “we have to go over a few things. We should probably, for example, talk about the assassination attempt that just happened.”

“And Grand Cleric Natalie’s attempt to deflect attention from herself,” Vivienne added. “The guilty dog barks the loudest. She should be carefully watched.”

“I know she has always spoken very poorly of you, ‘Manehn,” Cassandra began, “but she has been one of the Chantry’s strongest supporters. Would she really gain so much?”

“If she can blame your death on her, certainly. We can’t mistake an alliance for an ally.” Vivienne turned by towards ‘Manehn with a strong reprimanding tone. “And I know you’re still used to doing things your way. I understand. But, in all respects, we serve the Divine first. We cannot afford a wasted opportunity or a careless mistake because you feel yourself a martyr for a cause we all have a stake in.”

“Vivienne, I -”

“Ran off and left Cassandra vulnerable when I was already scouting for signs of malcontents,” Vivienne said, “trust us to do our jobs and you should do yours.”

“Of course,” ‘Manehn said with a slight glare.

“Speaking of malcontents, I assume you’ve found something in that note?”

“No idea,” ‘Manehn said, “it could be a recipe for Orlesian lamb for all I know. We’ll decrypt it. Not in enough time to gain actionable intelligence of course.” Vivienne and Cassandra shook their heads, “and that’s if it’s not an attempt to redirect our attentions to the wrong - AAAAHHH!!!!”

‘Manehn fell to the floor, a loud ringing and a pulsing pain filling her skull, screaming NO at a furious pace. Vivienne and Cassandra rushed to her side, but the spell had already passed.

Unwilling to frighten them further about magics they were already uncomfortable with, ‘Manehn merely stood up and waved them off, “Sorry, probably too little water,” she said. Cassandra and Vivienne looked at her with suspicious glances but said nothing.

“Our agents would be able to confirm so, correct.”

“Briala’s and Charter’s, yes,” ‘Manehn said. “I’m certainly no spymaster. However, Davhalla has been kind enough to give me an update on events from the last Arlathvhan.”

“And?” Cassandra said expectantly, ”surely they wouldn’t care about allies if this is their evil God from their legends.”

“A lot of them still hate me, a lot of them don’t want to help the Chantry under any circumstance, and I don’t think we could raise any sort of sizable army or even an alliance with the Dalish.” ‘Manehn said, shrugging her shoulders, “Not unless the Scion of Andruil gives her blessing. If she demanded it, they would rise. ”

“And the Blades of Andruil you mentioned before?”

“Will always help against a great cause. But they aren’t an army. And I’ve probably alienated the Scions just by calling for their assistance.”

“I’ve never seen a more fickle people in my life,” Canssadra muttered.

“And it required treaties and arm twisting to raise enough humans for a Blight, did it not?” ‘Manehn retorted, “it seems Davhalla and her supporters will have to do some arm-twisting as well. Keeper Lanaya, Hawen, Solan - mainly Southern clans, they’d be more willing. The Scions, especially Elain, could coax the rest of them to battle...”

“Just use what you can,” Vivienne said “I have my connections in the Court, we’ll have more resources yet.”

“And the Chantry has the Templars as well as the Mages,” Cassandra added. “I want to make sure we use them wisely.”

It was afternoon when ‘Manehn finally dared to attempt to speak with her daughter. She was not particularly thrilled by the idea, not because of lack of love, but because Mirwen would be angry with her. As usual.

She rapped on the door, once, twice, a third time before Mirwen answered.

“Come in,” she called out.

‘Manehn cracked the door open and was greeted by a surly face and an icy glare.

Mirwen was a muted version of her mother in all respects. Her skin was a lighter tan with a sprinkle of freckles across her nose and cheeks. Her eyes were smaller and a light indigo with faint yellow flecks like gold-leaf and her hair was a mousy brown shaped into a mop of barely contained curls - a sharp contrast to her mother’s striking black hair, bright eyes, and beautiful dark copper hue. Few features gave away even the slightest hint of an identity of the father except her mannerisms. ‘Manehn took no credit for her daughter’s soft spoken, intelligent and thoughtful demeanor that rarely gave way to impulse and anger.

She was easy to hide under her mother’s shadow.

And both of them had preferred it this way. Mirwen had wanted to stay as far away from attention as possible, as much as ‘Manehn was unwilling to let attention be drawn to her.

But that long protective shadow had begun to creep and constrain Mirwen, and comfort had been replaced by restlessness as she grew from childhood to almost-adulthood. What was once refuge and sanctuary had become a gilded cage. And the harder Mirwen fought to break free, the tighter ‘Manehn’s grip would become.

Therefore, her response, and her first words to her mother in days, were no surprise.

“It might have helped you to have another mage there in attendance, like myself, instead of leaving the Divine.”

“She’s well protected, da’len. I am trained. I’m not useless in a fight anymore.”

“I have been trained all my life in all magics short of blood magic and I am just to sit here all my days unless Vivienne convinces you to let me outside for once?”

‘Manehn clenched her teeth, “You are -”

“Am I your daughter or your lapdog, Mother?”

“Too young.” ‘Manehn snapped. “Far too young and inexperienced in the Game or battle to treat it with the seriousness it deserves.”

“ I will not learn if you do not involve me. I only wish to -”

“And you’re definitely too young to get involved in war!” ‘Manehn promptly cut her off. “Just because many children do go to war doesn’t mean they should. I’m not sending you on the battlefield”

“You cannot shield me forever. Not if Solas wins.”

‘Manehn let out a long sigh. She was right, of course. They were right. She looked at Mirwen with sad, weary eyes. This was not what she had planned for her - a future of conflict. “This is not a fight for children, and not a fight you should even be involved in.”

“No, it is not, but I don’t want to wait to die, Mamae,” Mirwen said, her tone soft and comforting. She knew her mother’s reluctance was out of love, at least. Even if she hated it. Even if she wished nothing more than to rid the world of this existential threat.

‘Manehn finally relented.

“If there is an opportunity to use your talents or train you in the Game,” she said, “I will involve you. I don’t want you near a battlefield, but you’re smart enough that I see no reason that you can’t help with research. If you want.”

Mirwen rushed towards her mother and wrapped her in a warm embrace, incredibly uncharacteristic, but ‘Manehn returned it gladly.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

A small shudder crawled up ‘Manehn’s back as Mirwen gleefully raced past her and towards the vestibule. She had known enough regret and pain. She did not wish Mirwen to know even a fraction of what she could.

For her sake.

#briala x lavellan #brialavellan #briala #oc lavellan #dragon age fic #da fic #dragon age inquisition #fic by brialavellan

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celticheartedfangirl · 7 years

Text

Exes and Uh-Ohs -- Rumbelle Fic -- Part 18 of my “Gone to the Dogs” series . . .

Basic Summary of this verse: A modern Rumbelle AU wherein Belle has a Great Dane/Bernese Mountain Dog mix named Sophie and Gold has a Wheaten Scottish Terrier named Stewart. The dogs fall for one another at the dog park, and nudge their owners to follow suit. Hijinks ensue. Also contains a teenage Bae and Emma as secondary characters.

This verse was the winner of the 2016 TEA for “Best Side Pairing – Stewart and Sophie.”

New to the Gone to the Dogs verse? You can catch up on all 17 previous parts on AO3 – in chronological order:

Part One: Gone to the Dogs; Part Two: Matchmakers; Part Three: Marking Territory; Part Four: Dog Sitting; Part Five: Just a Fantasy; Part Six: Dinner Date; Part Seven: Sit and Stay; Part Eight: Kyla; Part Nine: Kiss Me; Part Ten: Girlfriend and Boyfriend; Part Eleven: Coffee; Part Twelve: Library Books and Wishing Wells; Part Thirteen: Dream a Little Dream of Me; Part Fourteen: Video Games; Part Fifteen: Headache; Part Sixteen: Stormy Night; Part Seventeen: Runaway

Part Eighteen: Exes and Uh-Ohs (AO3 link if you prefer or simply read it right here in this post)

Summary: Gold and Belle spend a romantic weekend at a cabin, that is disrupted by an unexpected guest and a romantic surprise for Belle ends up becoming a bit of a problematic situation for Gold.

This entry takes place about SIX WEEKS after the events of the past entry, "Runaway." Only TWO MORE entries to this verse, then it's DONE. Anything you'd like to see happen - please let me know in the replies and I will do my best! Enjoy!

Exes and Uh-Ohs

Belle and Gold sighed serenely as they cuddled in bed, glancing at one another through sleepy eyes in the glow of the sunlight peeking through the window. Bae was on his annual camping trip with the Nolans, and Belle and Gold decided to take the weekend for themselves to enjoy. Gold found a quiet, rustic cabin in Vermont, and spent the weekend tucked away together.

"Good morning," Gold whispered as he pulled her naked body closer to his. "Sleep well?"

"Very much. I love it here. Can we come back again?"

"I would love that," Gold replied, and they shared several light kisses on the lips.

"I take it I didn't kick you last night then?"

"You're definitely becoming a more settled sleeper."

"You still snore a bit though," Belle teased. "It's okay though – it's kind of relaxing. So – what's the plan for today?"

"Wouldn't mind doing this all day – unfortunately we have to be out of here by three, so – I was just planning on cooking you a nice, romantic lunch."

"That sounds lovely." Belle climbed on top of him and kissed him. "I hope Bae is having fun this weekend."

"He better not be having this kind of fun," Gold commented.

"I think that the Nolans are being a bit more proactive about that sort of thing now. So – you up for some morning fun?"

"I think you know the answer to that," Gold replied, and Belle smirked as she felt him rock hard up against her body.

"It is kind of obvious, I suppose." Belle and Gold melted into a deep kiss, that was interrupted by a loud, booming bark, followed by the sensation of a small presence on the bed, then a small, demanding yip. Belle sighed and buried her face in Gold's chest. "Why did we bring them?"

"Because you thought it would it would 'fun for them to tag along' on our trip," Gold reminded her. "I'd have been perfectly content with paying someone to look after them this weekend, you're the one who insisted otherwise."

"Next time I have an idea, please stop me."

"Sweetheart, if I were capable of doing that, we wouldn't be here, and our conversation would have ended after our first meeting."

"Well – from here on out then," Belle said, and she sat up. "I guess they need to go outside and eat."

"So much for this then, I guess."

"I can come back when they're fed."

"Ah, forget it – the mood is already gone." Gold gently pushed Belle off to the side and sat up.

"Let's get some coffee in you and then maybe we can at least enjoy a shower later, Mr. Grumpy. I'm going to make you a morning person yet."

"If you find a way to do that, I'll buy you whatever you want." Belle just shook her head at him, swiftly threw on a pair of pants and a shirt, and led the dogs out of the room. She took them outside for a quick morning walk, and when she came back in with them, Gold was in the kitchen wearing his bathrobe and making breakfast, a pot of coffee already brewing for them.

"You could have stayed in bed, I'd have gotten this," Belle told him as she readied the dogs' food.

"I'm already up – might as well make myself useful," Gold told her. Belle hugged him from behind after she had set down the dogs' bowls.

"You need a new robe – this brown does nothing for you. I still like the pink better."

"If you buy me a pink bathrobe the only thing I will use it for is kindling or rags." Belle just laughed at him. She helped him finish preparing breakfast and they sat down to eat. The dogs dutifully parked themselves under the table, hoping to pick up any available scraps. "So what DO you want?" Gold asked.

"For what?" Belle asked in return.

"Anything. What can I get you that – that you'd like?"

"I don't really need anything else. I have you, and Bae, and the dogs, and job that I enjoy – I'm not really sure what else would be necessary."

"Doesn't have to be necessary, just – I want you to be happy."

"I'm very happy, Ronan. Aren't you?"

"Ecstatic," he replied, barely an expression on his face.

"See, that's one of the things that makes me crazy. It's difficult to tell if you're being sincere or sarcastic."

"I told you some time ago I was a difficult man to love," Gold reminded her. "But I am being quite sincere. I guess I'm just used to being with a woman who wants something from me."

"Well, that's sad. Ronan, the only thing I want from you is you. I'm in love with YOU, not your bank account."

"I know," Gold responded. Belle reached her hand across the table and touched his hand.

"What do YOU want?" she asked.

"What?" Gold replied, stunned at the question.

"What do YOU want, Ronan? I mean – I know you have a lot of things, but – what do you WANT?"

"No one has ever asked me that before," he admitted.

"Well, I'm asking right now."

"I suppose – same as you. Always wanted a real family. This is the first time I feel like I really have one."

"You're really not that difficult to love, Ronan. You just think you are." Belle looked up and could see tears forming in Gold's eyes. She stood up, moved to Gold's side and sat down on his lap. Belle ran her fingers through his hair, then gave him several soft kisses as she brushed the tears from his cheeks. Gold rested his head on her shoulder as she massaged his hair once again. "If you ever cut your hair I'm going to be quite cross with you." Gold lifted his head up and smiled at her.

"What if it falls out?" he asked.

"Then we'll buy some of that hair restoring stuff."

"Alright," Gold said, laughing a bit, and he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. "God, I love you."

"How about we have that shower then?"

"That sounds wonderful," Gold agreed, and he noticed Sophie peeking her head over the table. "Don't even -" he reprimanded the dog. "This is why I didn't want them at the table when we're eating."

"Oh, so they're a little spoiled, so what? All dogs beg, it's what they do."

"Stewart never did until he met your bad influence there."

"Well – it looks like Sophie and I introduced the Gold men to all kinds of naughty behavior," Belle teased. "Now let's get you out of that hideous bathrobe and into me." Belle hopped out of his lap, picked up his cane, and handed it to him. Gold stood up and followed her, smiling the entire time.

"You sure you don't want to go with me?" Belle asked as she sat on the edge of the bed and tied her shoes.

"Sweetheart, I can't keep up with you on a walk, we found that out yesterday," Gold replied, lounging on the bed, completely naked.

"Well, I'm planning to stay on the paved path this time. Come on – it's nice out, it'll be fun."

"You just go and have a nice walk – I told you, I want to prepare a nice, romantic lunch for us before we leave today and I can do that while you're out."

"You're very sweet," Belle said, and she stood up, then knelt on the bed and kissed him on the lips. They lingered in their kiss for a moment.

"You'd better go before you start something that we'll have to finish. Why don't you take Stewart, he could use a good walk." Stewart, who had been sitting in the corner of the room with Sophie, perked up when he heard his name.

"Oh, I hate leaving Sophie – I wish she was more of a hiker."

"Sophie will be fine – it'll give us some bonding time," Gold suggested.

"Oh, alright. Stewart – you want to go with me?" Belle asked, and the little dog let out a loud bark. Sophie barked as well. "No, Sophie, you'll stay with Ronan, you'll have fun. I'll see you in a bit – come on Stewart!" Belle skipped out of the room, and both dogs followed behind. As soon as the door closed, Gold heard Sophie start to bark and howl.

"Sophie! Come here, girl!" Gold called out, and Sophie ran into the bedroom. Gold stood up and put on a pair of jeans, then a shirt, which he buttoned as he sat down on the edge of the bed. "Hey – I've got a surprise for your mum. I was going to give it to her last night, but – I got a little nervous. What do you think? She'll say yes, won't she?" Sophie laid her head on Gold's lap, and he began to pet her. "Come on – let's go get things ready. You'll be my helper, right?" Sophie let out a loud, booming bark of approval and followed Gold as he stood up and made his way out of the bedroom.

"Alright Stewart, I think we've gone far enough, you want to turn back?" Belle asked, and the little dog let out a small bark. "You know, I think when we get back home we'll start doing this more often, wish I'd have thought of it sooner in the summer. Sophie's not much of a walker and neither is your papa. But we have fun together, right?" Stewart let out another bark. "Okay – let's get going, I'm sure Ronan has lunch all ready for us." Belle began to trot down the path quietly, holding onto Stewart's leash with a firm grip, when suddenly something flew in front of her and Belle let out a scream. Stewart started barking furiously as Belle looked to her side, still shaking. There was an arrow embedded in a tree right in front of her. Had she stepped out a few more inches – it would have been in her.

"Hey, I'm sorry, I though you were – Belle?" the tall, dark-haired man began as he ran out from the other side of the path, a bow and arrow quiver flung over his back.

"Gaston?" Belle replied, stunned, as she looked him up and down. Stewart continued to bark at him.

"Belle? What are you doing out here?"

"I'm on a weekend away, what are YOU doing? And it's not even hunting season!" Belle shouted at him.

"Eh, nobody pays attention to that," Gaston replied as he yanked the arrow out of the tree.

"Um – you almost hit me with that thing."

"Yeah – sorry about that. Thought you were a deer. So did you get a new dog?" Gaston looked down at Stewart, who had stopped barking and just sat on the ground, glaring at the tall man.

"No – I still have Sophie, she's at the cabin we're renting. This is Stewart."

"Hey Stewart – you friendly?" Gaston asked, and he reached down to pet the little dog. Stewart let out a soft but firm growl.

"He um – he's a bit skittish, likes to get to know people first. So are you living here now?"

"Nah – just out here hunting for the weekend."

"Again – not hunting season. I could report you, you know."

"Aw come on, you wouldn't do that to me, would you Belle? Can't believe I ran into you like this. So you – you out here with somebody then?"

"I'm here with my boyfriend," Belle replied.

"Where's he at?" Gaston asked.

"He's back at our cabin, getting lunch ready. I should probably get back there."

"So you've got a boyfriend then?"

"Yes – I do. We're living together, actually."

"So were we."

"You moved into my house because your roommate kicked you out for not paying rent. Which you never paid to ME half the time, either."

"Hey – I paid you in other ways, remember?" Gaston flashed her a big grin.

"Not really, no. Come on, Stewart. Let's go." Belle looked down at the little dog, who had lifted his leg and was peeing on Gaston's boot. "Stewart!" Belle shouted at him.

"Hey! Cut that out!" Gaston shouted once he noticed what was happening. "These are brand new boots! You gonna pay for these!" Belle sighed, frustrated.

"I probably have something that'll clean them off at the cabin, why don't you come with me?"

"Yeah, that'd be okay I guess. I should probably check out this boyfriend of yours, anyway. Make sure he's good enough for you."

"Oh, trust me – there's nobody better," Belle said, rolling her eyes at him as she led Stewart back onto the walking path.

"Okay, everything looks good, right? Now – for this," Gold said, and he pulled a small box out of his pocket and opened it. Inside of it was a ring – a medium-sized sapphire surrounded by several small diamonds on a white gold band. "Bae helped me pick it out – you think she'll like it?" Sophie let out a bark. "Now just – how to do it? I thought maybe I could put it on top of the cake? Or how about I pre-cut a slice for her, and that's what I'll give her? That's not – too ridiculous, is it? What am I doing, I'm asking a dog for advice on how to propose marriage." Gold sighed and set the box down on the counter. "Okay – maybe it's silly but I just want to do something different." Gold cut a slice of cake, then carefully set it on a small plate. He moved the slice to the center of the table, which he had already set for dining, then took out the ring and embedded it into the frosting. "Ah, she'll see it as soon as she walks in – let me get something to cover it." Gold stepped away from the table to grab a napkin. He had barely turned around for a second, and when he turned back, Sophie's head was on the table, and the slice of cake was gone – as was the ring. "Sophie! What have you done!" Gold shouted in a panic. He moved everything around on the table, but the ring was nowhere to be found. Gold dropped to the floor, searching under the table and near the table for the ring – it was nowhere. Sophie moved next to him and gave him a kiss on the cheek, then licked some leftover frosting off of her nose. Gold looked up at the dog. "Do you realize what you've done?"

"Ronan! We're back!" Belle called out as she opened the door. Stewart came charging into the cabin as Gold reached for the top of the table and pulled himself off the floor, and did his best to pull himself together. Sophie let out a loud bark when Gaston entered the cabin after Belle.

"Hey – nice place. Bet this cost a pretty penny to rent," Gaston commented.

"Who the hell are you?" Gold asked. Sophie stayed next to Gold, alternating between barking and whining. Stewart parked himself underneath Sophie and did the same.

"Alright, both of you, stop. Ronan – this is – Gaston. Stewart and I ran into him on our walk. Quite the coincidence, isn't it?" Belle looked at Gold and rolled her eyes.

"Gaston? You mean the idiot Neanderthal you used to date?" Gold asked.

"Neanderthal? Listen mister, I don't know what she told you, but my family is from France," Gaston commented, in a very serious tone. Belle just smirked at Gold but didn't say a word in reply.

"Oh dear lord," Gold mumbled, his eyes widening, not knowing what to say in response.

"Stewart, um - peed on his shoe."

"Well – good for Stewart," Gold said under his breath.

"I thought you said you were here with your boyfriend," Gaston commented.

"That would be ME," Gold said, gritting his teeth. Gaston eyed him up and down.

"I'll – be right back, I'll get that stain remover," Belle said, and she popped out of the room.

"You're dating Belle?" Gaston asked as he moved closer to Gold. The dogs started to growl again.

"We're doing quite a bit more than dating, dearie," Gold replied. The dogs began to growl even louder.

"Can you tell those two mutts to stop?" Gaston asked.

"Well first of all, Stewart is not a mutt, he's a purebred. And second – why on earth would I do that? You're not afraid of a couple of harmless animals, are you?" Gaston eyed Sophie up and down.

"She's never liked me," he said.

"Well – I've found Sophie to be a quite intelligent animal at times."

"She's the reason Belle and I broke up, you know. If it hadn't been for Belle bringing that thing home, we'd still be together."

"Well then – one more reason for me to think very highly of her." Gaston sneered at the dogs, both of whom stopped barking but maintained a low, rumbling growl, and he began to look around.

"So uh – how much did it cost to rent this place?"

"More than you could afford, dearie."

"So that's what got her? You're loaded, aren't you? Belle never struck me as the type that was into money but – I guess people change."

"Because she couldn't possibly want to be with me because she likes me, is that right?"

"Well – come on. Why would a girl like Belle go from me to YOU?"

"Alright – this should take care of your boots. Ronan and I have to be packing up and leaving in a bit, so – probably best for you to be on your way. It was – interesting running into you, Gaston." Belle handed him a small spray bottle.

"Yeah – you too. So I'll – see you around then?" Gaston asked.

"Hopefully not," Belle replied as she pushed him toward the door, then shoved him out, closing the door without so much as a goodbye. Once Gaston was gone, Belle practically darted to the kitchen area, and she opened one of the cupboards. "Oh good, you haven't packed it yet," Belle said as she pulled out a bottle of scotch. She then opened another cupboard, took out a small glass, and poured herself a drink.

"You don't drink scotch, love," Gold commented.

"I do now," Belle replied, and she downed the drink, making a face as she swallowed. "I can't believe I was ever stupid enough to waste one moment of my time with that boorish, brainless – you know he almost shot me?"

"He what?!" Gold shouted.

"With his bloody bow and arrow – thought I was a deer, if I'd have moved one step more he'd be mounting me on his damned wall!"

"Sweetheart – are you alright?" Gold asked, moving to her side. He put his arm around her as she finished her drink.

"Yeah, I'm fine, just – what on earth are the odds of running into him here?"

"With us? Pretty damned good," Gold responded. Belle glanced on the counter and saw the cake, with a missing piece.

"Oh, you made cherry cake, thank you so much! And I see you couldn't wait, had to sneak yourself a piece, didn't you?"

"Belle – about the cake -"

"I'm sure whatever lunch you made is delicious but I really need to indulge in something I don't need at the moment so – you don't mind, do you?" Belle began to cut herself a piece of cake.

"Belle – I already cut a piece for you, I had put it on the table and – it's gone."

"Mmmm – this is good!" Belle mumbled as she took a bite of the cake, a piece of it in her mouth. "I don't see anything on the table."

"Yes, I just said it's gone – I turned my back for a moment and – Sophie -"

"Oh god, Ronan, you can't leave food around without keeping an eye on Sophie, she can reach anything and she thinks anything she can reach when no one is looking is automatically hers!"

"Yes – I found that out. Belle – the cake wasn't just – a piece of cake. There was something else on it."

"Something else, like what?" Belle asked. She set down her fork, then noticed the small jewelry box on the counter. Her eyes widening, Belle reached for the box and opened it, only to find it empty.

"Ronan – you – was this -"

"I wanted it to be a surprise. I figured the last thing you'd suspect it would be during a casual lunch on a weekend trip. I put the ring on top of the cake. I turned to get a napkin to cover it and when I turned back, the cake – and the ring – were gone." Belle darted out of the room without saying a word, and came back in several minutes, talking on her phone.

"Okay, so – you're sure about this? Alright – thank you," Belle said into the phone, and then she ended the call. "That was David's vet assistant – she said that a dog Sophie's size – it shouldn't hurt her, and there shouldn't be any problems with the ring passing through and – we should probably find it in about thirty-six to forty-eight hours."

"Find it?"

"You know – in her -" Gold let out a disgusted sigh as he made a face. "She said there probably isn't going to be much damage to it, if any, Sophie most likely swallowed it whole without even realizing. We can have it cleaned and then -"

"You are NOT wearing that ring after it's been – THERE," Gold insisted.

"Why not? No one will know."

"I'll know. I'll get another one made."

"Made?"

"You didn't think I'd buy you an engagement ring out of a discount catalog, did you? This was custom made – Bae helped me design it."

"Bae knew?"

"Of course he knew – wouldn't have asked you if he wasn't fine with it."

"Ronan – I don't want you spending thousands of dollars on a second ring, we'll have that one cleaned and it'll be fine, and also, technically you haven't asked yet," Belle reminded him.

"No I haven't. I have to drive back today so no scotch for me, but I think I'll join you in having some of that cake. Not really in the mood for a real meal at this point." Gold picked up a knife and began to cut himself a slice of cake. "Between this and your moronic ex showing up, this day is pretty well shot."

"Oh I wouldn't say that. I um – I heard what you were saying to Gaston while I was in the other room. I'm sorry about all of that."

"It's no matter – he's an idiot. What did you ever see in him?"

"I'm really not sure – bored, I guess? Anyhow – I was going to give him some of the cleaning stuff I have for my shoes, but – well, between him almost shooting me, then prattling on about himself the whole way here, and then – his other comments – I decided to go a different route."

"What was in that spray bottle you gave him then?"

"Bleach," Belle replied, grinning a bit. "Found it under the bathroom counter. So his hunting boots will be clean but – a bit lighter in shade." Gold couldn't help but laugh.

"You are a very, very bad girl," he said.

"I can be," Belle agreed.

"Come over here," Gold growled, and Belle moved to his side. Gold put his arm around her and kissed her. "I do love you."

"Ask me," Belle said as she looked up at him.

"Ask you what?"

"What you were going to ask me."

"With what? Your ring is passing its way through your dog's intestines."

"Well – improvise." Belle picked up the knife that they had both used to cut the cake and handed it to him. "How about this?"

"You want me to propose to you with a knife that doesn't even belong to us?"

"Well – I'm sure they won't miss it, they have plenty of others. You going to ask or do you want me to?"

"This isn't the way I wanted this to go, Belle."

"Nothing ever is with us, though. Why start now?" Belle laughed a bit at her comment.

"I suppose you're right," Gold agreed, and he picked up the knife and held it out to Belle as if presenting it to her as a gift. "Belle French – will you marry me?"

"Yes," Belle replied, her smile turning to one of joy, tears welling up in her eyes as Gold handed her the knife.

"You gonna wear that around your neck until you get the ring back?" Gold asked, and Belle laughed.

"I'll keep it in my purse," Belle replied. She set the knife down, wrapped her arms around him, and kissed him. They kissed for several moments, and stopped when Stewart let out a small bark as he sat down at the feet. Sophie sat down next to him.

"Next time they stay home," Gold stated adamantly. Both dogs looked up at them and barked, and Belle and Gold couldn't help but laugh.

Gold and Belle arrived home close to eleven that evening. When they opened the door, they noticed that the television was on in the living room, and Bae was curled up on the sofa under a blanket. The dogs charged into the house, and Bae awakened and sat up a bit, startled.

"Papa? What time is it?" Bae mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

"Almost eleven. What time did you get home?" Gold asked.

"I'll take care of the dogs. Hi, Bae," Belle said as she passed through the living room to let the dogs outside.

"We got home around eight. We had a nice trip. Mr. Nolan isn't as mad at me anymore. He even let me help with the cooking."

"Well, that's good. You didn't have to try and wait up for us, though," Gold said as he sat down next to his son.

"I wanted to. Did she say yes?" Bae asked.

"Yeah – she said yes."

"Does she like the ring?"

"I don't know; she hasn't seen it yet."

"What do you mean she hasn't see it yet? How could she not see it yet if she said yes?"

"Because Sophie ate it," Belle said as she entered the room with the dogs. "It's a long story, we'll tell you about it tomorrow. Just for the next couple of days, whoever lets Sophie out is going to have to be monitoring her, um – output." Bae made a face.

"Gross," Bae said.

"Indeed," Gold agreed.

"So, you um – you're alright with me marrying your father then?" Belle asked as she sat down on the other side of Bae.

"I want papa to be happy; you make him happy," Bae told her, then he turned to Gold. "Momma is going to be back from her trip tomorrow – that's when she'll get the papers from your attorney, won't she?"

"Yes – they'll be waiting for her," Gold said. "I don't expect her to be very pleased."

"I want you to be my mom, Belle. I wish you were my mom." Bae leaned into Belle and hugged her.

"Oh, you don't mean that – you have a mum, and maybe she's a bit difficult, but I'm sure she loves you in her own way. I will, however – be your step-mum. And your friend. I will always be here for you, Bae, as will your father. Now – it's late, and your father and I are very tired and I'm sure you are as well. Go on off to bed – we'll see you in the morning."

"Goodnight, son," Gold said, and he gave Bae a hug.

"Goodnight, papa. Goodnight Belle. Come on Stewart and Sophie, let's go to bed!" Bae darted up the stairs and the dogs happily followed. Gold leaned back on the sofa and closed his eyes as Belle snuggled up on top of his chest.

"We should probably go up to bed before we fall asleep out here," Belle said as Gold rubbed his hand up and down her back.

"This week is going to be hell, you do know that, right?" Gold asked.

"We'll get through it."

"You don't think we're rushing things with this engagement, do you?"

"Maybe – but I don't see any point in waiting. I know what I want. And you finally do – figure I'd better get it on paper and bound by law before I scare you off again."

"You never scared me. I scared myself." Belle lifted her chin and reached out to touch his face, and Gold opened his eyes.

"We'll have a good life, Ronan. Do you believe that?"

"I do," Gold replied, nodding his head.

"Good. Practice saying that," Belle teased. "I want you to get it right when you say it at our wedding."

"Our wedding – on top of everything else, we have a wedding to plan. Do you think anyone will come?"

"I don't care. As long as you and Bae and Stewart and Sophie are there, that's all that matters."

"Stewart and Sophie? Are you serious?"

"Well – of course, they'll be the ring bearers."

"I am not letting that mongrel of yours anywhere near rings ever again." Belle just laughed.

"Come on – let's go to bed." Belle stood up and handed him his cane. He stood up, put his left arm around her waist and they made their way upstairs together.

#rumbelle fic #rumbelle #rumbelle au #gone to the dogs

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