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castielsangelsx · 4 years

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Lion and the Lamb (Ivar x Reader) Part 5/20

summary: everything seems to be getting better. thats until your clumsiness causes Ivar to be in an angered state, causing you to flee in fear from kattegat straight into the hands of danger. thats until ivar the boneless is at your rescue. the start of something?

warning: violence, language and hints at rape but nothing too serious

UMM TWO UPDATES OF LION AND THE LAMB? WHO IS SHE!!!! ENJOYY, THIS WAS MY FAVE PART TO WRITE, I TOOK LOTS OF INSPO FROM BEAUTY AND THE BEAST BTW!

lion and the lamb masterlist

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I had finished painting the bark for Sigrid’s family, finding her family came from a long line of blacksmiths. The family seemed much nicer to me and I was grateful, especially with the long line of requests I had for painting families in their homes and on their shields.

I was glad I was warming up to the people, I’d hope it would only get better from here.

Spending a day on the artwork, the paint was all over my hands and some of it managed to get all over my dress. I had asked Ama to dress me in a plainer one knowing I would paint a little on it as a result of the work, yet this dress seemed a mess now. Face palming myself for not asking Ama about the blanket, I’ll ask tonight.

With the paints gathered all in my hands I made it back to the main hall, greeted by the smell of food. My stomach grumbled at the sight of some thralls bringing in plates of bread and hot food. Noticing Ivar and Ubbe at the table I sighed, finally dinner would not be eaten alone. Ubbe would surely keep me company.

Noticing their immense concentration on the parchments in front of them I walk up to them. Ivar seems to notice my presense and he looks from Ubbe back to me, “good of you to join us.” His words are laced in a mocking tone. I ignore him and instead I smile at Ubbe who has the biggest smile on his face at my disheveled state.

"How was it?" Ubbe asks, referring to the paints in my hands.

"Great," I sigh. "I've finished one so far, it'll take me two more weeks to get through the rest of the paintings." Ubbe nods in content, Ivar pays no mind and studies the map in front of him. "What is this?" Pointing towards the plan in front of them, directing my question to Ubbe, Ivar seems to interject.

"None of your business, Christian." I turn my head and roll my eyes. I was starting to get used to Ivar's relentless attitude, and I knew he wouldn't do anything, not with Ubbe here, I'd hoped.

"It is her business Ivar, she is your wife and the queen of Kattegat." Ivar pays no mind to Ubbe's statement and shifts his attention back to Ubbe. Ivar's back is turned to me as I sit in front of Ubbe beside Ivar, seated at the end of the table.

They start to converse in a different language, Ivar's attempts to disregard me and stop my questions. Leaning over the table lightly to look over the maps, I notice the considerable resemblance to England, with the canals and small rivers surrounding it. Out of curiosity, I snatch one of the parchments lying on the side.

Ivar's eyes narrow as he watches me study it, it doesn't take him long before he snatches back the map. Before I could even review it adequately enough.

"Hey, I was looking at that." He rolls his eyes and shakes his head before placing it back under the pile of parchment. I huff, annoyed, and look towards Ubbe, who is amused.

"Ubbe, when can I meet your wife?" I ask, happily. Ubbe perks up at the mention of Torvi, and I smile. Ivar sighs beside us at my interruption and clicks his tongue. Ubbe and I pay no mind to him.

"I can send her, she's willing to meet you." Before I could respond, Ivar interrupts.

"Ubbe," Ivar warns. Ubbe shakes his head and smiles my way. "We have come here to discuss our raid not to chitchat with the Christian." He slams his fist to the table lightly, but I shake my head

"I am just making conversation with my brother-in-law, what is so wrong with that?" He ticks his tongue while he shakes his head.

"You are distracting us if I knew you would join us and bother us I would have done this elsewhere." Ubbe watches this unfold, and all I can do is shake my head and furrow my eyebrows.

"I want to help, Ivar. My advice last time helped, didn't it?" Ivar shakes his head but says nothing.

"Her knowledge helped Ivar, let her stay." Ivar's jaw clenches at Ubbe's interjection. I take Ivar's silence as a response and a clear indication that I won. Well, Ubbe won.

They began to converse again, Ubbe looking to me every now and again. The thralls began to put plates and cutlery in front of us to prepare for dinner. I was excited, I was starving.

The paints lay in front of me, not noticing the opened black color I grab at my cup and in the process knock over the paint. I gasp in horror. Shit! Watching as the black paint drips to the maps. It engulfs the ends of the map, cutting off a quarter of the parchment.

Ivar's eyes trail from the paper to me, I gasp, and I gulp harshly. "Ivar, I am so sorry-"

His voice was loud and filled with anger. "You stupid Christian!." He leans closer towards me, the ax clenched in his hand.

"Ivar," Ubbe warns.

"What Ubbe?!" He leans even closer to me, which causes me to bump into the table as I jump up. "You are clumsy and stupid." Ivar turns to face me after looking back towards Ubbe. I am petrified, Ivar's eyes are dark now, laced in pure anger. "I'm going to blood eagle you in the hall and crucify you on that wall, you stupid woman!" He yells I jump at his voice. I do not move, fear to keep me in place.

He grabs at the parchment and watches as the paint drips off onto the stained table. He clenches his jaw and looks up from me in narrowed eyes.

This sets him off as the ax on his belt seems to fly right past my head, and it clatters against the wall, "GET OUT!" He yells, voices dark and angry. I bolt, rushing past Ubbe, who attempts to grab my arm to stop me, but I push past and out the door.

Completely forgetting my items or belongings, I know where I had to go. I had to get out of here, I needed to find a way home.

Ama's hand stops me as she grabs my arm, she had seen the scene unfold. I look to her, "I need to get out of here." Ama lets go of my arm as I rush past her, not even giving her a second look.

Rushing out into the open, people were giving me small looks of confusion. I paid them no mind as I rushed past them, a fistful of my dress in my hand as I ran.

It had taken me a minute before I had exited Kattegat's walls, and now I was off past a field and a few farms to the nearing foliage before me. I would hopefully be able to escape any searchers and maybe even find a place to sleep. I was a mess, I was ridden with anxiety and my rash actions, but fear was there, not for my escape but Ivar's actions. This was the first I'd seen of Ivar's fury. This was what the stories were, the man who was brutal and course. I had seen it, and I knew, marriage or no marriage, I was not going to stay any longer.

I thought back to Ama and even Sigrid, the little girl I had painted for who seemed like a new friend. I was no pagan, I knew they'd be better off without me.

I stop to catch my breath and look back behind me to the endless tree line, I was going to get lost. But I decided I needed to continue instead, quickening my pace to walk faster instead of run. Where was I going? I didn't know. Hopefully, I would end up finding a small village with some people who would help me find shelter and then a boat.

I had been walking for some time now, the sky was darkening, it was a thick grey. It might rain. I needed to find a place to sit under. I walked a few meters ahead before noticing the fire's crackling. I sighed, maybe they could help me. Slowly reaching, I was unsure what to say or even if I should just continue on up ahead.

Reaching a clearing where fire and some mats were places. No was there; however, maybe if I stood there for a bit, someone would return, and I could take warmth for the night.

Noticing some fish to the side and some weapons, my stomach did not grumble from my prior hunger. I had other things to worry about. Hearing the breaking off leaves and twigs, I twist my head to the side, and taking a step back, my back collides with a chest.

Turning sharply, I find a man with a thick blonde beard. His lips fixed to a smirk and eyes glazed—his grabs at my arm tightly.

"Let me go, I just need shelter I mean no harm." He seems to not pay attention to my words and tugs me forward. Away from the fire. "Let me go!" I squeal, tugging, and pulling at the grip on my arm. He was much more reliable in strength than me. Clearly, his height and built had something to do with it.

I was panicking now, I always get myself into trouble. "Please, where are you taking me!" the man ignores me still pulls me away from the clearing from the fire. He was probably taking me back to Ivar; these were his men. Ivar was going to do something much worse, and at that thought, I struggled even more. Using my feet, I kick him in the legs, but he's quick. Moving his legs in time, he grips me harder, and I squeal at the pain.

"Stop! What are you doing!" He whistles out with his spare hand. What was he doing? I thrash around, but he catches my other arm with his spare one. Realizing he was calling for someone else, another man comes through the clearing. This time with wild long ginger hair, but he was much shorter.

They start to converse in another language, and I realize he would not have understood me. So I move and thrash.

"Help! Please, someone!" Anyone, please. He no longer moved me further into the treeline. He stops in place, wasn't he taking me to Ivar? The man shoves me forward, his strength causing me to fall flat on my face. My body aches at the wind escaped my lungs quickly. I groan at the contact, scramble up to crawl away. My dress catching on my knees at the quick movement.

The men laugh at my attempts, yet they seem to not stop me scrambling. Maybe they've given up. Hastily grasping my dress, I crawl, but the copper-haired male comes closer towards me, and using his foot knocks me on my back harshly.

I had never been treated like this before, I was terrified for what they'd do to me. I needed to get out of here, I'm so stupid. Getting up on my forearms to stand the two men near me.

The bigger blonde male sniggered at my fear, scrambling back in hopes of delaying whatever they were going do to me. What had I gotten myself into, tears begin to form, and I know no crying was not going to save me now.

"Please, no," putting my hands up in defense. One of the taller men grabs at my wrist. They speak amongst them in a foreign language that I do not understand. Oh, dear Lord, save me.

One of the burley men grasp at my leg while the other stands over me, I twist and turn. I am a fool, he would shame me and kill me, this is how my life ends. Why did I not stay in Kattegat?

The sound of the men soon mixed with the distinct sound of a horse, a chariot lead by a white stallion darted towards us; the men were shocked in place. As were I. It was Ivar, the men direct their attention to the Viking king shooting towards them.

His chariot was darting closer at high speed, however before I could scramble out the way, Ivar stoops his horse close beside the two men. The stallion neighing in protest to the sudden stop.

Knocking one of the men over in the process, as he swings right beside us, I scramble back further as the men soon let go of me and focus further onto the incoming threat. I was in shock, utterly unsure, with eyes widened at the scene in front of me.

My body was shaking, and all I could do was watch as Ivar knocked the shorter man to the ground, his victory was short-lived as the taller man stabbed Ivar in the thigh. I gasp in horror.

Ivar seemed to drop off the chariot in the process, but this didn't seem to falter him as he raised his ax to the shorter man and used the advantage of the man's position to stab him.

Ivar pounded his weapon repeatedly into the man's chest, resting on my elbows. I watched as Ivar’s yelling matched to the stabbing. Anxiety and pure panic continued to race my heart and cause my body to shake in fear. The other man’s face was horrified at Ivar’s actions, and I watched as he scrambled up out into the forest line.

The blood splayed in the cold air, splashing onto Ivar’s face. The man was dead, that is for sure. Ivar slowed his movements as the adrenaline seemed to cease from his veins.

The fire in his eyes died down, and instantly he dropped his weapon to the side and slumped down in exhaustion. Scrambling onto all fours to push me up, the pain in my arm throbbed, and I hissed. Ivar’s stab wound caused him to groan, but I paid no mind.

I get up and rush towards the white horse, this could be my runaway opportunity. Looking to the surrounding foliage of trees in front of me I prepare to mount it. Preparing to leave, it was my chance to run. Looking back towards Ivar for a moment and noticing his body limp, but his breathing ragged.

I couldn’t leave him here. Ivar almost growls in pain, and his breathing becomes labored as he presses his hand into his leg, with the knife laying to the side. I couldn’t leave him there, could I? He had saved my life.

Rushing over towards him, I assess the damage. Ivar said nothing to me, so I attempt to help him.

“Ivar, hold still, please.” Ivar grunts at the pain, I watch as the blood seeps into the ground. His wound was bloodied, a pitted black stain large on his thigh. Clasping my hand over his leg. Ivar jerks up in protest, but I continue to securely press into the wound. “Ivar, I want to help you.”

"You need to help me," I say, pressing a hand to his shoulder and the other to his leg. His jaw clenched, breathing rushed and labored. "You have to help me, you need to stand," Ivar says nothing, I gulp harshly before helping him push himself to sit up. He groans loudly as I heave him up. The wind begins to quicken, and the cold meets my thinly clothed arms.

"That hurts you, stupid woman." I sit back, shocked at his sneered words.

"I am trying to help you!"

"This would have not happened if you hadn't run away." I huff at his remark and furrow my eyebrows.

"If you hadn't frightened me, I wouldn't have run away." He rolls his eyes even in his state. His insults do not falter me as I grasp his arm to stand. The horse Ivar had come with, tied to the chariot, proved useful. Maybe not for my escape plan but to help him. I decided it'd be best I walk beside the horse. So that's what I did, seating Ivar in the chariot, his protests followed, however.

"I am not useless, I am a man," I shake my head in annoyance. His words were random, but I ignore them, more focused on the injury.

"So, you can walk back to Kattegat?" I remark, hoping Ivar's complaints would end, and he'd let me get us back to Kattegat. He says nothing but clenches his jaw in pain and props himself further into the chariot to sit. Ivar watches me as I disappear onto the white stallion. Rubbing at its side, I sigh, back to Kattegat we go.

---

Making it back to Kattegat was a cold journey, guilt-trip, but after some direction from Ivar, we had made it again. Ivar was relentless in demonstrating he was still the fearless king, but the pain showed, and Ubbe helped me take him to our chambers. Ubbe's eyes wouldn't leave me as I had Ivar's arm wrapped over my shoulder for support. He was shocked, as were I.

"Do not touch me!" He bellowed as I attempted to cut the fabric from his legs to reveal the deep wound underneath. I shake my head and clench my jaw, awaiting for the thralls to come and attend to him.

"Hold still, Ivar," I say calmly as I tug at his clothes again. Ama and a few thralls rush towards me with a steaming bowl of water and some cloth. Ama passes me the fabric, not even attempting to heal the angered king herself, I don't blame her.

I hesitate to take the cloth from her hands. She gives me a look of uncertainty before I dip the fabric into the water. Ivar twists on the bed, pushing away the thralls as they stand beside me in fear. I'm guessing they have never dealt with Ivar, not with his legs. The ones he hides behind a brace and the crutch.

Being so close to Ivar in our shared chambers was odd, and I wasn't sure how to feel, especially as Ubbe urged the thralls out, Ama was pushed out, and I began to feel nervous. I wasn't fully assured of my healing skills, but from my knowledge, I knew I could stop the infection and hopefully ease his pain.

"Ivar, let her tend to your wound." Ivar shook his head with a clenched jaw. It was only us three in the room now, I appreciated Ubbe's attempts it assured me that Ivar might agree to let me help him.

He sneers but nods, jaw clenched harder than before. I don't know if its from the pain or the proximity. I hesitate before looking up towards Ubbe, who nods in my direction. Using the small knife, Ubbe had handed me I cut at the pant leg. A short cut had already been made by the blade, so I used my hands to rip the fabric. Ubbe notices my struggle and takes the knife and cuts a long strip down the pant. Revealing his crippled ones underneath.

Paying no mind to it, I take the dampened cloth and dab it on the wound. Ivar hisses, and I look up with a guilty look on my face. "I am sorry Ivar, this is going to hurt." However, his face wasn't laced with pain as much of his face was almost down. It'd seem he was vulnerable, and I had never seen Ivar like it before.

I did not mind his legs; if anything, they did not change the fact he had saved me and that I was grateful for that.

(gif’s in this section found by @fantasydevil2002)

Ivar looks at me for a moment before his face turns sour, and he pushes my arm away forcibly. Ubbe sighs, “Ivar, do not make me get Hvitserk or the thralls.” Ivar groans and crosses his arms over his clothed chest. He huffs and settles his arms beside him. I turn to Ubbe,

“leave us for a moment, please?” Ubbe’s eyes almost widen at my request, but he also nods slowly, and Ivar also seems shocked. But I pay no attention to Ivar, watching as Ubbe hesitates at the door before leaving.

Turning my attention back to Ivar, I smile softly. “Thank you for saving my life.” Ivar looks at me from the side of his eyes, an almost smile making it to his lips. Hope to fill my heart.

"You're welcome." That's all I got, but it was short and sweet. Voice low and his face laced with uncertainty. Ivar let me tend to his wound, I continued to wipe the blood clean from his leg. I paid no attention to the state of his legs but the injury itself, hoping to ensure he can trust me.

It was a comfortable silence between us, it was a calming silence. Ivar's quietness warmed my heart as he no longer insulted me, but let me touch him. I was praying in my head that this would last just until he would be stitched by the thralls.

"I will grab Ama to help stitch you up." He nods but says nothing. Getting up from my spot beside the bed, I call for Ama. Looking back to Ivar, who dared not look me in the eyes for the rest of the night.

"I am surprised he let you attend to his legs," Ubbe says, making himself comfortable by the crackling fire to the side of the room.

"He is so stubborn," I admit plainly. Ubbe laughs a little at my statement. I sit parallel to him at the end of the bed.

Ivar was being attended by the thralls, taking a bath. I was glad to be alone with Ubbe. His company was always welcoming, and I was now more than excited to meet Torvi, hopefully soon.

"How is your arm?" Ubbe sat opposite me.

I hadn't noticed the throbbing in my own arm until Ama had pointed it out. Making a makeshift bandage around my bicep. I smile small,

"It is alright." he nods at my response, "Ivar is in the most pain, mine is just a bruise" Ubbe laughs.

"Where were you running to?" his question was random and couldn't help but stare at Ubbe for a moment before swallowing thickly.

"I don't know where somewhere far from here." he shakes his head. Guilt wells up in my stomach at Ivar who had been more than bruised from the attack. Remembering the dead man in the forest.

"If I had known he would come after me and injure himself, I would not have run."

"Why did you run away so far?" He asked, sitting back against the chair comfortably.

"I was afraid, I thought running away would be better and I wasn't sure if I was ever going to be happy here, I don't fit in. I miss my family." Ubbe smiles at my words, and my cheeks get warm as my throat thickens.

"Ivar is Ivar, he will get better with time. I know he resents the things he said, he is ill-tempered."

"Ivar? Feel bad?" I say, dumb-founded by Ubbe's claims. He shook his head with a cheeky smile on his face.

"Ivar has a way with words; he says things to hide his true feelings," he says, running two fingers on the end of his hairy chin. "As soon as he scared you out of Kattegat, he ordered and was out of here like thunder. To find you."

I scoff and shake my head, "it's not that he felt bad Ubbe, the woman he has a marital alliance with was running away, which could affect that agreement." Ubbe studies me before shaking his head.

"I don't think so, you two may not be in love, but he knows that he crossed the line. Ivar is always full of surprises. As you saw, he let you tend to him, willingly." I let his words settle in my head. Ivar's act in saving my life was beyond what I expected. Looking to a week ago, when Ivar destroyed my belongings and mocked my religion that he would save my life today was plainly laughable.

Yet, here I stood with a bruised arm and an injured Ivar who had willingly let me tend to his legs. Something seemingly obscure but I knew tomorrow was going to be a new day. Hopefully, Ivar and I can be civil. Well, let's see how long that will last. Maybe more moments like this would be shared from now on.

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#vikings #vikings imagine #viking imagines #vikings ubbe #vikings ivar #vikings x reader imagines #Ivar Bjørnson #ivar lothbrok #ivar imagine #ivar's heathen army #ivar fluff #Ubbe Lothbrok

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

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Survey #297

“crushed, damned, and broken; lost, sick, and left unspoken.”

When was the last time you did clay work/pottery? Not since high school when I made an anatomically correct heart. Do you like art, hate it or just not mind it? I adore it. Is crime a big problem in your area? Oh yes. What's the scariest story/urban legend/creepypasta etc you heard? Maaaan, as a cryptic fanatic, that's hard. Maybe the Rake. What personality trait does nearly everyone in your family seem to have? We're some resilient motherfuckers. What is your favorite soda? Well, it's technically strawberry Sunkist, but I do NOT let myself have it because I will fucking chug it and binge on them if available to me. So, I just consider Mountain Dew Voltage my fave. When you're on the beach, do you throw beached sea creatures back? I've never even seen a beached animal. I would, though. Have you ever thrown food at someone? Yeah, small food fights as a kid or joking with a friend. Have you ever been to a bonfire? Yeah. Do you like orangutans? I love them; such fascinating, enchanting animals that act more human than people half the time. When you see a bug flipped on his back, what do you do? It depends on what it is, but I usually try to help it. Is cereal good? Yeah, I love cereal. Do you like spaghetti? Love it. It was my favorite food as a kid. Is there any kind of weapon in your bedroom? No. Do you like snow globes? I love 'em! Be honest, did Fifty Shades of Grey arouse you in any way? I didn't read it and never will. What does your sibling(s) call you? "Britt" or "(little/big) sister." Do you have any close friends that are the opposite sex that your significant other dislikes? N/A Do you honestly believe everything happens for a reason? Why or why not? Nope, because I want you to explain to me why a child dies of cancer. Why the 11-year-old was raped and forced to bear the child. Why a partner is beaten to death by their s/o, etc. etc. Things just... happen. Do you believe in reincarnation? Why or why not? No, mostly; I DO kinda wonder about it, I just find it unlikely. It would be kinda poetic, though: being given the chance to experience so many unique things. But, I kinda want a conclusion to my mortal life. The Hunger Games or The Maze Runner? I read the first HG and loved it; I started the latter novel while I was in the psych hospital for a while, but I never finished it or got that far in. It did sound pretty good, though. Has anyone you’ve known claimed to be psychic? Well, they believe(d) in tarot readings; does that count? Idk. Did/do you believe them? I wouldn't. Is anything annoying you right now? "Annoyed" is a fucking understatement when it comes to what transpired at the capitol a few days back. Have you ever been ice-skating? No. Does the sound of rain at night help you sleep? It can, depending on how heavy it is. Have you ever seen an albino person, in person? Albino, no, but I knew a guy and his sister in high school who had vitiligo. Have you ever worn a pair of scrubs? Yeah, at the ER and hospital. Have you ever walked into a massive cobweb? I don't believe so. What would you say is your strongest felt emotion right now? Rage. I'm not over "the event." I'm just tired of humanity. Are you talking to anyone at the moment? No. Do you have trust issues? Oh yes. Have you ever found an arrow head? No. Who is with you? My mom's home. What can you not stop thinking about? *points upwards* Then there's Jason because PTSD, that's very normal. Do you forgive easily? I forgive very easily, honestly. In what part of your life so far, have you learned the most about yourself? 2017, when recovery began. I think... or maybe 2018, idk. I've truly come to discover myself quite a lot the past few years. Have you ever been in a fist fight? No. Are your ears pierced? Yeah: my earlobes twice, and then my right tragus has a stud. I want to get my others back... I had to take them all out in the psych hospital, and a lot of my piercings closed up. The only one I don't wanna re-do is my anti-tragus, because mine was *always* inflammed and aggravated. What did you last say out loud? "Okay" to Mom. What are you waiting on? Right now, an opportunity to go to the parlor I'm getting my tat tidied up at to get a price range on it. They just need to be open while we're out of the house. Do you tell people when they get on your nerves? Not really. Are your feelings hurt easily? Yep. What's the most expensive piece of clothing you have? Did you buy it yourself? I dunno... I very rarely get new clothes, nevermind expensive ones. Who is your closest platonic friend of the opposite sex? His nickname is Girt. He's been my best male friend since high school; we even hang out sometimes, but it's been a long while. How do you think your first relationship shaped who you are as a partner now? As a partner, it taught me to not fall head over heels and love more realistically and in a healthy fashion. I don't put my faith solely into them, but myself, too. I also accept "forever" is not always true just because they promise it. Who is your favorite protagonist of the same sex? Oh god, this is hard. I suppose maybe Tyrande Whisperwind from WoW. I love her dedication to her people and that her story has become more interesting in her finally "breaking." I could list so, so many "faves," tbh. Were you popular in high school? What was your reputation like? No; I was just the average teen. Have you always known your sexual orientation or did something happen to make you realize it? Somethings happened. There were a lot of hints building up before I even began to consider the possibility, but a daydream solidified it as fact. What was the hardest part of your last break up? Realizing I still wasn't "ready" or "fit" for a successful relationship. What brought you out of the hardest period in your life? As strange as it sounds, my suicide attempt put it into action. I was obviously hospitalized for a while, and then I was brought into a month-long partial hospitalization program that has a fucking genius psychiatrist, and I also had daily therapy as long as school days during the week. It was the intense help I needed. What's your favorite kind of smiley face? (: Does anybody know your deepest darkest secret? My old therapist and maybe my mom; I can't remember if I told her. Did you ever watch Rugrats? (the babies) I LOVED that show! I even had two of the video games. What about Hey Arnold? Ugh, I hated it, but I think my little sister did, or we just watched it if we couldn't find anything else. Do you like pep rallies? NO. NO. NO. My teachers always understood that they really stoked my anxiety and allowed me to opt out of going. I'd just stay in the classroom and read or something. Have you ever had pneumonia? No. What do you feel about surgeries? Do they worry you? I fear anesthesia awareness, but not to a debilitating degree or anything that makes me panic beforehand or anything like that. Do you play Minecraft? if so, feelings about servers? Never have, and not interested. Do you read creepypastas? Nah. Do you think vlogging in public is scary? It seems awkward as FUCK to me. Even alone. Have you been to an escape room? Was it a success? No. What social class would you say you're in? I think we're actually near the poverty line (or were, idk anymore, Mom slipped it before), so definitely lower. Have you ever recorded a cover of a song? No. How do you feel about guns? They scare me. What's the most traumatizing event that ever happened to you? A very abrupt and poorly-executed breakup while being madly in love to the point of obsession with the person. Are you faint to the sight of blood? No. Do you like spicy food? Yes. Do you have good dreams or nightmares more? Well, considering I was woken up by myself shrieking my lungs out this morning, guess. It seemed for a little bit that my nightmares were chilling out, but I guess not. When was the last time someone insulted you? What was the insult? Does my mother telling me I'm saying too many "f-bombs" count? I dunno otherwise. What’s your second favorite color? Maroon. Do you ever wish you lived in a different country? Hey Canada, mind adopting me? Who’s the last person you “pounded” fists with? Ha, I think my nephew. Have you ever been involved in an affair? No. Wait, maybe? Does the Joel thing count? We never even physically met each other, we were just being idiot kids flirting over text messages. You be the judge, ig. How many times a week do you speak to your boss? I don’t have a job. What do you want for your birthday? Just donate to my tattoo fund lmao. Having to get my laptop fixed fucked up my plans yet again... Have you ever been to a masquerade? No. Is there anybody you think is hot over the age of 40? A handful, yeah. Who in your phone has a heart after their name? Just Sara does. Anything you’re avoiding? Always. After breaking up, what’s the worst? Letting go if you're the one who still has feelings. Does your sibling have a significant other? I don't know if my brother does, or the half-sister I've never met. Another sister is engaged, and two are married. Nicole is single, though. She's smart as hell about who she dates; she's probably pickier than me. Do you use Skype? Just to talk with Sara. Are you a fan of acrylic nails? I wouldn't wear them, but they look fine on some people. Except when they're square shaped. Name one happy song that describes you better than any other. "Get Up" by Mother Mother comes to me first. Name one sad/mellow song that describes you better than any other. Haha I connect with a lot of sad songs and would honestly rather not dig through 'em right now. What is your most used pick up line? None, they're all awful. Do you like the taste of alcohol? Noooooo no no. The only alcoholic drinks I like are very weak and sweet. What kinds of food make you sick? So this probably sounds so stupid, but "fancy" foods, like stuff with a lot of ingredients my body isn't used to, I guess. My stomach is very finicky with foods, so it's easy to make this list.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''creatures x: to the grave'' by motionless in white

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silver-wields-a-pen · 4 years

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It's a new year, so let's start off with an intro post!

⁂ About Me: ⁂

I did one of these before, but it sucked. I don't do the talking about myself thing well. I'm an INTP-T personality type (do people still do these? God, now I feel old), and a pisces (do people care about astro signs? Fuck, I do not do intros well). I don't really do labels (some days I feel more like an it than any other pronoun, and there's so many subsections for sexuality that the only thing I can say with confidence is trying to pick one scares me).

I've had chronic pain and fatigue for about three years, but hey, my doctor said it's just one of those things and to deal with it, so...

I could be a professional copy editor and proofreader, but anxiety, low self-esteem, chronic illness and a bunch of other shit stops me from doing it. I mostly edit for fun (I'm one of those dorks who likes grammar, sorry, not sorry), and I also write a hell of a lot in between not writing at all because the fog descends and I can't find the keyboard.

I'm into Final Fantasy, but I'm not one of those fans that'll tear you to shreds for not liking the same installments I do.

I'm a naff cook, but my baking isn't terrible. There's even a family recipe somewhere on my blog that slaps super hard! Like, if you wanna go death by indulgent chocolate fudge cake then, Hi, I have that!

Stuff you can find on my writeblr: advice posts, anything fantasy, image references, links to other resources, interesting information about fighting or blood loss and weapons. I write mild smut about my favourite ship: Nyima/Tundra, and there's other Illthdar fan fiction, too. There's some clothing references—mostly pretty dresses and waistcoats—and other people's writing—main stuff I reblog is about the upcoming Illthdar series (by @Illthdar), which features an OC I made, and an AU Illthdar steampunk fan fiction called Kerridon, which is by @Guardians-of-las-vyxen. I 100% recommend reading everything you can about both because they're awesomesauce and I can't live without them ^=^

I also reblog some art and art tips, but I'm nothing close to an artist. You can find a few commission info posts, though, and artwork by my fave people, @Raylenequinn among them.

⁂ My Wip for 2020 ⁂

⁂ Brotherhood ⁂

Brotherhood is a romantic action series featuring a cast of diverse characters acting out on a world stage. The Brotherhood itself is a shadowy organisation run by people who are far more dangerous than those who hire them. The premise of the series is redemption through acceptance.

There's eight planned books for the series, beginning with Divinely Volatile.

Set among the backdrop of the 2018 Winter Olympic Games in PyeongChang, South Korea, Divinely Volatile focuses on Brotherhood assassin, Ryang Ji-hoon and former First Lieutenant special forces operative—now personal bodyguard—Fen Yueliang. Having saved several high profile targets, Yueliang now finds herself with a bull's eye on her back. The person sent to deal with her, and send a message to any other overachieving bodyguard, is Ji-hoon. What Ji-hoon doesn't realise is Yueliang is a trickier mark than he ever expected, and whether he succeeds or not, his days in the Brotherhood are numbered.

This is currently sitting at six chapters done in a first draft, and I post at least two extracts per chapter, along with other random factoids. I typically do a weekly progress post, although I took a brief hiatus for Christmas. Any asks I get I'm currently answering for Ji-hoon, Yueliang, Ndiaye (Yueliang's best friend) and Anna (Ndiaye's girlfriend). There's other characters on the profile pages and the Brotherhood has several different profile cards for certain members, which reflect their development within the series. I'm still adding characters as they appear, so it's constantly updating.

Other books in the series: Deadly Lineage, Cold Snap, Scorched Desire, Heavenly Kodachi, Broken Oaths, Smudged Iron and Blood Covenant.

Each book features diverse characters, including POC and LGBTIA+ as well as varied settings from locations around the world.

If this sounds like your cup of tea (did I forget to mention I'm English?) and you'd like to be added to the taglist for updates on my WIP just gimme a nudge and I'll do that, and much thanks for the interest ^=^

So, that's me, that's my WIP and I hope to see you around!

#Writeblr #Writeblr community #Intro post #My wip #Brotherhood #New year post #urban fantasy fiction #New adult fiction #assassin romance #I'm not good at talking about myself #I tried

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angelicspaceprince · 6 years

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Sorrow’s Hold

Author: Anna

Title: Sorrow's Hold

Pairing: Crowley/Reader

Character/s: Crowley, mention of Cas and Jack, the Winchester bros

Warnings/Tags: Post Season 12, Crowley lives because he's my fave, depression, talks of suicide, just general poor mental health, talks of a favourite person (its a BPD thing, but I gather most people have one person they talk about their mental health to?), psychosis/hallucinations, disassociation, mood swings, anger, like some semi-intense descriptive writing, I'd avoid if you are sensitive to that due to mental illness.

Summary: Your depression takes a massive hold over you shortly after Crowley's death and without him to help you with your thoughts, you can slowly feel yourself slipping away.

Tags: saintbartine, oddone92, autoressskr,

Notes: So, had a shit day today and have been listening to 'My Heart is Broken' by Evanescence over and over, so I decided to write a fic based on it. Hope thy all enjoy!

Based off of this song.

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Sorrow's Hold

‘I pull away to face the pain I close my eyes and drift away Over the fear that I will never find A way to heal my soul And I will wander 'til the end of time Torn away from you

My heart is broken Sweet sleep, my dark angel Deliver us from sorrow's hold Or from my hard heart’ – ‘My Heart is Broken’, Evanescence

When Sam and Dean returned with Jack and no Crowley or Cas, you instantly knew something was wrong. Hell, you knew something was wrong the day before but no matter how many times you called the boys, they didn’t pick up. So, when they walked through the door, you were a nervous wreck. It took one look at Dean and Sam to know what had happened.

“What happened?”

Sam looks at Dean, clearly unsure on how to approach the subject. “What happened to my boyfriend and Wicked Wings?” You repeat, words hard and cold as stone, tears already threatening to spill over.

“Y/N….” Sam starts, hesitating and Dean just flat out refusing to talk. “Cas….he was stabbed by Lucifer before we could close the riff. And….the spell we needed required a life. Crowley, he killed himself so it’d work.” You blink as the events that took place the night before the boys went to go save the world – again – started making sense.

Crowley had insisted you stayed behind, not wanting you to be within arm’s reach of Lucifer, knowing he’d kill you in an instant. You tried to protest, you wanted to see this through to the very end and that you could handle yourself, but when he finally told you what had happened during the hell that was the months he was locked away in Hell being humiliated by Lulu himself, you decided to cut him some slack. You weren’t even suspicious when you asked him to promise you he’d return home safely and he responded with a kiss, an inside joke between the two of you about ‘sealing the deal’.

The insistence and his refusal to verbally promise to return, and the fact that he didn’t want sex he just wanted to spend time talking about your life together, stuff you had done and wanted to do, the fact that at one point you swore he was teary-eyed, but that’s not Crowley. He wouldn’t be like that, the last time he cried was when he was on the blood and you had to help him through his withdrawals.

It made sense now.

You hadn’t released that you sat down in shock and that tears were streaming. You were silent, vocal cords frozen in disbelief. “He’ll be back.” You swear, voice wobbling, giving away the fact you knew he was going to stay dead.

Sam’s hand rests on your shoulder, trying to provide you with some level of comfort. “Y/N…I’m sorry, but I don’t think he is.”

Shortly after, you snapped.

You knew it was coming, this time of year you always had a massive depressive spell that you and Crowley could track better than you could track any other part of your body. You had been preparing for it when he died, and usually he’d be there to help. He was your support, the one person you seeked approval from and the one person you seeked help from during the times like this. Eight years of this support and you were unaccustomed to go through this alone, or even setting up and preparing for all of this.

So, with the very few resources you had prepared, you locked yourself in your room and allowed yourself to slip away.

First came the tears. God, you were sure that you would have been able to fill oceans with the amount of tears you cried. You cried and cried, never leaving your bed for anything, dressed in a shirt of Crowley’s, clinging onto his pillow tightly as your tears soaked through the fabric of the black, satiny pillow case, because he refused to have any other colour. Sam and Dean would leave food and water by your door, and on occasion would bring it in when it became apparent you weren’t leaving the room to get it. They tried talking to you about hunts, about memories of Crowley, about how amazingly strong you are getting through this, but you didn’t have the strength to respond. You barely had the strength to cry, but the tears kept on coming.

You did, however, force yourself to drink water, Crowley’s voice ringing in your head to remind you that tears make you dehydrated and that’s not something you need to be.

A week of tears, only drinking water and refusing to get out of bed for anything but to pee. The boys were concerned, and rightfully so. But, they presumed once the tears were over that that’d be the end of it.

Then the zoning out happened

You’d spend hours just staring at the wall, retreating into your mind, uncontrollably. You likened it to sitting in a pool, the words you hear are jarbled but you can acknowledge words were being said. You could see everything, but it was all foggy. Thoughts were slow and hard to grasp. You just….sat there. Unable to move, unable to think, drowning in nothingness.

When Sam first saw you he freaked out. Seconds later, you felt a familiar pressure on your forehead and the feeling of someone you knew – Cas? – rummaging around your mind, hands grasping at your consciousness, trying to drag you out only for you to slip through ghost fingers.

So, they did the next best thing. They sat with you, taking shifts, leaving Netflix on as they researched beside you, helping you through the fatigue that followed you coming out of an attack. At some stage, you came out of it to see a bearded Ketch in your room, bullet wound on his shoulder as he slams a tray of food down by your feet, simply saying that Crowley wouldn’t want you to waste away before disappearing into the night. You don’t know why you like Ketch, but you like him nonetheless. So, you ate a little and drank more water.

That, thankfully, only lasted a few days. But what followed would have freaked you out, if you didn’t currently have the emotional range of a toaster.

It was almost like a ritual. You’d bring out all your weapons and line them up in order of how slowly they’d kill you, nearly going through with it with your gun or tracing lightly the words you wanted to carve onto your legs, leaving light scratches. When Dean walked in with your gun in your mouth, he flipped. You’d never seen him so pissed.

You didn’t even apologise. Just staring at him emptily, not sure why he was freaking out so badly. After all, you weren’t loved, who were you to keep living? Who’d care if you died, if anything, people would rejoice.

Sam quickly removed everything from your room that could be seen as a weapon, leaving you in a more or less empty room. So, you resolved to just laying there. Staring at the ceiling, unable to move.

Now, over a month since Crowley’s death, your brain started something new

You hadn’t been this bad for this long since childhood, for the most part your episodes would last a week, maybe two. So, when the next symptom started up, you were completely unprepared.

Hallucinations.

You were there when Sam was suffering with his visions after Cas tore down the wall in his brain, so you were certain yours would get worse. But, for the most part, it didn’t affect you as bad as Sam’s affected him.

Commanding voices telling you to change your sheets, shower, brush your hair that had been neglected for months – which, thankfully, a local hairdresser was more than happy to do for free when she saw you grabbing top quality conditioner and detangler –, to eat something other than a small apple or a piece of bread, to wash your clothes and put something clean on. The voices were never cruel, they just wanted you to get your life back together.

The only thing they did that caused you to freak out was order you to clear our Crowley’s belongings from your room.

You couldn’t.

It was too soon.

It was the only time you refused to go through with the voices instructions, compromising to instead move his stuff into your closet so it was unseen.

Images of the ghosts of your past would walk right in front of you, you’d swear you saw your deceased boyfriend next to you, but when you turned, you were alone. The sensation of hands rubbing up and down your arms, applying the right pressure to calm you, exactly the same way Crowley would during anxiety attacks would make you think ‘maybe he managed to return in spirit form’. A quick spell assured you that that was not the case.

You couldn’t sleep. Your emotions were slowly returning in full force, making up for lost time. The sensation of complete anger then crippling sadness before heart-attack inducing anxiety leaving you useless in a ball wherever you were standing made it impossible for you to even do anything. You began apologising profusely to Dean and Sam for your actions, and even met Jack. Nice kid.

But any time you saw or remembered anything about your boyfriend, you became catatonic. Just unable to move, paralysed by the tsunami of emotions flowing through you.

So, when you woke up in the middle of the night to see him standing over you, calling your name softly, you were ready to stamp down the sudden oncoming of emotions that hit you like a brick wall.

“Y/N, love. C’mon, wake up for me.” His gravely voice pulling you from your nightmares slowly. “You were having a nightmare, pet, its not real.” You blink before laughing apathetically.

“Figures that this would be the next step.” You say, no emotion in your voice. The vision looks down at you, confused.

“Love?”

“My brain is a prick, you know that? And this is just cruel, giving me a vision of you to torment me? Fucking hell, I’m more messed up than I released.” You turn your body, bringing your blankets closer to you, inhaling his scent through the pillow. Only, it seems to be encompassing the room, coming from everywhere. You roll your eyes. Your brain is thorough too.

A warm hand rests on your shoulder and it takes all your strength to shrug it off, not wanting it to leave. The hand is stubborn and refuses to move. “Y/N, I’m really hear pet.” His voice sounds heartbroken, unsure. Not Crowley. “Love, I came back. I had to follow Lucifer through the rift then make my way here.” You move away, it’s painful to do so but you manage. Standing, you move to the opposite side of the room. The look in Crowley’s eyes of concern and uncertainty was foreign, but undoubtedly there. “Why did you do it?”

He slowly makes his way around the bed. “Do what?”

“Leave me? Especially now, when I was about to crash. Why didn’t you promise me to return?” Your voice wobbles as you fight back more tears. Fuck’s sake, why can’t you control yourself?

He pauses, clearly affected by your growing emotions. “I’m so sorry, love, but I had to. We had to get him away, and I couldn’t- you would have been in danger if you were there.”

“Why didn’t you tell me your plans? That you were going to gank yourself?”

“Would you have honestly let me leave the Bunker knowing that I was going to take my own life?”

“Well, no.” You admit softly and he shrugs.

“There you have it then.” You didn’t release he had moved to in front of you until his feet are touching yours. “Please love, look at me.” You shake your head, eyes squeezed tightly shut. “Why not?”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“It’ll hurt.” You can hear his confusion without him voicing a word. “I can’t look at you and know that you aren’t real.”

“Oh love, I’m very real.” His hand brushes against your shoulder and you yank back, sudden anger taking over your system as you begin to yell.

“Why can’t you leave me alone? I’m tired, Crowley. I’m tired of feeling, of living, of not knowing what’s going on and what’s happening, of having absolutely no fucking control of my body. I don’t want you to be here, to torment me! You left me, Crowley. You didn’t tell me shit and you knew you were going to die. And you don’t enter fuck all without knowing what’s happening. You should have told me.” You sit down on the bed, tears streaming yet again. Surely you had cried enough? Why was your body not tired enough, and how could it still be producing tears? “You should have told me.” You repeat, voice broken.

To his credit, he doesn’t try to leave you, or step back, or even react shocked. He just stands there, waiting for you to finish. “I know, I should have told you. I’m really sorry, but I’m back and in one piece.” You finally look up and stare at him.

“How do I know it’s you? Not a hallucination, not a trick from an angel or a demon.” He looks down before humming.

“Well, have you had any hallucinations recently?” You think over it.

“Only voices. Shadows. Not…not together though.” You admit. “But it could have progressed.” Crowley nods.

“Well, let’s think about this logically. What have the voices said to you?”

“They, they told me to do stuff.”

“Have I done that, pet?”

“No?”

“Then why would they change?” You nod slowly. Your auditory hallucinations had been relatively consistent with their theme, not really changing besides the orders given.

“But then you could be a trick. Asmodeous is apparently good at that sort of thing, or a shapeshifter?” Crowley hums before smiling, a genuine smile that only you ever got to see.

“When we first met, it was before I met the boys. You were working a case about this idiot who sold his soul to me and you managed to get me into a devil’s trap and ward off my hellhounds, and at the same time was working on a case concerning a nest of vampires the town over. All on your own.” You smile at the memory of an insulted and annoyed Crowley glaring at you as you left him alone for a day mid-interrogation to go and deal with the vamps. “I was pissed, but you kept me there for a week. We got flirting, I would come see you to invite you for drinks-’

“Stalked.” You interrupt. “The word you are looking for is stalked.”

“It worked though, didn’t it?” You roll your eyes, letting out a watery laugh. “You agreed to one drink if it meant that I’d, and I quote, “fucked off back to hell and never bothered you again”. One drink slowly turned into this.” You smile softly.

“You’re really back, aren’t you?”

“Yes, love, I am.”

“If you ever do something that fucking stupid again, I’m killing you myself.”

“I know you will, pet.” You launch yourself at him, holding him tightly as you nearly wind him.

“I missed you.” You admit, him returning the sentiment as you snuggled in close. Seconds pass before you finally ask the question you only wanted to ask him that had been burning in your mind for days now. “Am I broken?”

He looks down at you in slight surprise. “What on earth could be broken in you, love?” You shrug.

“My heart, my soul. Me. Just generally broken.” You shrug it off. “It’s stupid.” His hand grasps at your chin and makes you look up at him.

“There is not an inch of you that is broken, you are whole and you are perfect.” He reminds you. “You are human.” That last sentence makes you feel so much better, that small reminder squashing away any feelings of uncertainty that you are, in fact, nothingness. “When was the last time you slept a full night without any disruptions?” You shrug, honestly not being able to remember. “C’mon, go to sleep. We can talk about everything else in the morning.”

He leads you to your bed, moving instantly to wrap his arms around you as he presses against your back, his warmth and familiar scent and pressure as he holds you tight calming you instantly. “I love you.” You whisper quietly.

“Love you too.” Comes the reply with a chaste kiss to your temple.

“If I wake up tomorrow and you’re gone, I’m going to find a way to murder my brain.” You hear him laugh lightly before you start to slip away into the darkness.

“I know you would.”

It took a while, but eventually sorrow’s hold let go and you were on the mend. The boys weren’t impressed with Crowley’s surprise return, but you knew one thing for certain.

Everything was going to be okay.

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shitfics · 7 years

Text

The Smallest of Deeds (5/8)

Jinki’s clan is gone.

Killed by humans, with no trace of a motive, on a night he spent away at Jonghyun’s cabin. To save Jinki from his loneliness – and his desire for revenge – Jonghyun suggests they journey south to find Taemin.

Their search for a place and purpose sends them to an organization known as the Inquisition, and the dangers they face after joining force Jonghyun and Jinki to confront parts of themselves and their relationship that threaten to break them apart.

more action! a new character! taemin finally catching up to what’s been going on between jongyu!

seungwan is wendy from red velvet. i was originally going to go with joy (since she’s my fave), but since her real name is sooyoung, i didn’t want people to mix her up with snsd’s sooyoung.

In a day, their entire way of travel changes. Seeking to take advantage of the fact the Venatori are human, and thus without the elven ability to see in the dark, they rest during the day and continue north at night. The shift leaves Jinki sleepless and irritable, but it’s easier to bear now that their mission has an urgency to it that hadn’t been there before.

The moment the moons are visible and the sun is hidden, Taemin leads them forward. Jinki follows closely, and Jonghyun stumbles along behind them on the mix of rock and sands.

True to Taemin’s prediction, the next camp they find is built against another one of the desert’s rocky cliffs and seated near an ancient Tevinter ruin. Their approach is hidden by a large sand dune, and the moment they hear conversation in Tevene, they stop and lower themselves to the ground to keep from being spotted.

Taemin licks his lips. “Their position puts us at a disadvantage, since they have the cliff at their backs to defend them. How do we want to do this? ”

“Depends on their numbers,” Jinki whispers.

“Do you think you can get those without being seen?”

Jinki nods. “Just give me a minute.”

He pulls off his boots and steps quietly towards the rise of the dune. The back of his neck tingles with the weight of eyes on him, but he knows he couldn’t have been spotted so soon. He looks back, expecting to see Taemin watching him, only to meet Jonghyun’s gaze — his lip is worried between his teeth, and his brow is creased, anxiety plain in the fidget of his hands in his robes.

Though he’s not certain he’s supposed to, Jinki can read what he’s mouthing clearly in the shape of his lips — be careful, please, be careful — and there’s more emotion in it than Jinki’s seen from him in days.

He looks away quickly, but his stomach is still fluttering when he flattens himself against the sand. Willing himself to ignore it, he continues his crawl up the dune until he can peek his head over the top to assess the camp.

A large blazing fire sits at the center. Men clothed entirely in black surround the flames, some in armor, some in robes, and Jinki has to fight the urge to run immediately when he sees one of the mages bouncing a ball of fire absently from hand to hand out of boredom.

He takes a breath and forces himself to count. Three warriors, three mages, and one of them is tucked near the wall with a cage covered in a ragged piece of burlap.

His fear vanishes the moment he catches a glimpse of pointed ears through a hole in the fabric. A cold determination rises in its place, and he narrows his eyes, scouring the camp for signs of weakness and the best point of attack.

He finds it easily.

Near the horses, a warrior holds a wooden cup out under the tap of a barrel of what he can only guess is liquor. His eyelids droop as his cup fills, and he rights himself with a sudden jerk of his spine before stumbling back to a bow and arrow left haphazardly in the sands east of camp.

He hurries back down the dune as fast as he can without making noise.

“Their scout on the east side is drunk and tired. We can likely knock him out without anyone noticing.”

Taemin nods. “Good. How many of them are there, besides him?”

“Only five,” Jinki slips back down the dune quietly. “Two mages with a staff, and two armored men. There might be more in the tents, but likely not many.”

“Sounds like numbers we can work with.” Taemin rubs his chin. “Jonghyun — is there anything you can do to open the cage from here, with magic? The surprise of that might create a good distraction from anything me and Jinki do on the east side, and the numbers would be in our favor then.”

“If I could see the lock, I might be able to melt it, but it’s too dark for me to do it from a distance,” Jonghyun says. “And it’s likely magicked, anyhow.”

“Then we have to clear out the camp first.” Jinki pulls his bow from his shoulder and notches an arrow on the string. “Any ideas for the mages?”

Jonghyun chews on his lip as he thinks. “I can make some kind of illusion, so they’ll think there’s a demon near. The Veil is thin here, so the mages might think something has really crossed from the Fade. And the sight of it might be unexpected enough to catch everyone else off guard.”

“Do that from the west, then, once they realize me and Jinki are coming from the east — that’d probably be the best way to split their attention.” Taemin gives them both tight smiles, then sighs. “Maker, let us get out of this with your blessings.”

Jonghyun glances at Jinki, then nods, and they split up.

Jinki makes a wide circle around the camp with Taemin until they reach the east side and spot the drunken warrior. The man is an easy target. Half his armor is off, likely to escape the heat of his drunken flush, leaving all his vital points vulnerable.

As satisfying as it would be to pierce the Tevinter bastards heart, he knows better than to do that when they need to remain unheard. He gestures for Taemin to wait. The pullback of his bowstring is silent, and when he releases it, only the impact of the arrow piercing through the drunken man’s throat makes a sound.

One mage looks away from his companions to glance over at the fallen man, but he only laughs and shakes his head when he sees the body. Apparently the man had fallen over in his drunkenness enough for his companions to assume that of him.

Jinki waits for his attention to slip back before whispering to Taemin. “Go for anyone sleeping in the tents.”

“Got it.”

He watches as Taemin slips into the first tent, then comes out a minute later with blood-darkened hands. When Taemin sneaks into the next, he keeps an arrow dawn, aware that even the slightest sound of struggle from within the tent might alert the Venatori to their presence.

As if on cue, a hand flies out of the tent opening, clutching at the sand as a strangled cry escapes from within. The canvas of tent erupts into flames, and Taemin stumbles out, hair singed and blood staining the front of his shirt.

“Kaffas!”

Jinki has no time to worry at the source of the blood. Strings of Tevene swears erupt around the camp as the remaining Venatori notice them and leap into action, hands going to their weapons.

Flames bloom from the western part of the camp in the shape of a beast — wolven or something else, he doesn’t know — and the Venatori mages attentions turn to the creature.

In the confusion, Jinki releases his arrow to strike at the nearest mage when he reaches for his staff. He draws another and aims for his next target, one of the warrior’s charging towards him and the now-burning tent.

Unlike the drunken one, this one is still in full armor, and his arrow bounces uselessly off the heavy plate armor covering the man’s chest. He tosses his bow aside and rolls out of the way, coming back up with his daggers drawn.

The Venatori warrior’s longsword passes in front of him in a wild swing, and Jinki realizes when he’s forced to jump back that drawing his daggers had been a mistake — he’d lost the advantage of reach.

He dodges a heavy upward cut, purposefully stepping away in hopes he’ll have a chance to draw his own sword. To free his hand, he throws his smaller dagger forward, regretting it the moment he releases it when the blade only causes a shallow cut to the man’s cheek.

“Fucking rattus,” he snarls, already preparing for his next strike as Jinki tries to pull out his own sword.

Suddenly, Taemin shouts from behind the warrior in Tevene. “You’d know a thing about fucking rats, wouldn’t you?!”

The sound of his own language from an attacker makers the warrior hesitate in his upcoming downstrike, and Jinki takes advantage of the momentary lapse to drive his remaining dagger past his guard into the gap of armor between his arm and chest and twists, making the man howl out in agony and drop his sword.

He pulls his blade out and turns quickly to the west end of camp. One of the mages is already dead, a burnt corpse on the ground, but the other is still standing, circling his hands above his head as he generates a storm of frost.

Jonghyun throws up his hands when the storm suddenly surges towards him. A thin barrier of fire comes up between them that melts the icy daggers before they hit, and Jonghyun collapses to lean on his staff, face pale from the exertion as he conjures a weak shield around himself.

The Venatori mage scoffs at his effort, obviously no longer seeing Jonghyun as a threat, and turns away to head for where his staff is seated on the sand.

Without another thought, Jinki finds himself running to the west side of camp as fast as his legs can carry him. He knows how the battle will play out once the man gets his staff — if Jonghyun can’t hold his own against a Tevinter mage without his staff, it’d be hopeless once he reached it.

Noticing Jinki’s approach, the mage snaps a barrier into place and continues towards his staff. The blue-green glow around his skin should be a signal for Jinki to back off, but he ignores it, remembering what Joonmyeon taught him the single time they’d sparred: though barrier’s deflected blades, they often did little against blunt force

When he reaches the mage, he dodges a startled toss of fire from the man and brings the hilt of his dagger down against his temple. The mage falls to the sand with a pained shout, but before Jinki can strike again, he has his staff back in his hands.

Blood pours from the fresh wound on his head, making his scowl all the more menacing as he raises the weapon to point it at Jinki. An ink-black darkness engulfs the crystal at the crest, congealing into a dark shadow before it flies towards him and shifts into a long tendril that wraps around his legs.

Jinki’s muscles seize the moment it hits. His legs go useless beneath him, and he spends his last second of control to send throw himself towards the mage.

A spark flickers across the Venatori man’s skin as he attempts to surround himself with a barrier, but it does nothing to keep Jinki from barrelling into him with all his weight. They fall to the ground in a heap of limbs, and Jinki doesn’t waste a second to right himself before he stabs wildly at the man’s chest with his dagger.

The first blow bounces uselessly against another barrier, and panic seizes his chest.

The numbness in his legs makes it impossible to stand, and the mage’s hands are hovering out of reach, the left brightening by the second as a fireball grows in his palm. His next blow is imprecise, only a jerk of his hand towards the man’s throat, and each one after it is weaker and weaker as it sinks in that he can’t move away from the growing prickel of magic along his skin.

Just as the fireball threatens to fly from the mage’s hand, his blade breaches the barrier, and he sinks it eagerly into his chest.

“Cursed abomination,” he grits, watching with satisfaction as the mage’s magic vanishes in an instant. He pulls out his dagger and stabs lower, then twists it to pull the blade towards his belly and leans back, gutting the mage open as easily as if he were a deer. The dying mage’s hands scramble desperately between his own stomach and Jinki’s arm as he pleas in weak Tevene for mercy.

Jinki smacks the flailing limbs away and silences the man with his blade through his throat.

He doesn’t want the mage’s dirty palms on him.

After the mage’s last breath, the spell on his limbs fades, and Jinki stands to shake the gore off his dagger. He looks around the camp, expecting to see some semblance of a fight remaining, only to find the camp silent save the soft steps of Taemin walking towards him and Jonghyun finally standing with his staff.

Taemin and Jonghyun exchange some brief words to check on each other, but it all sounds distant under the pound of adrenaline still in Jinki’s veins. “Are there none left?”

“All taken care of,” Taemin says. He sheathes his own small dagger and jerks his chin towards the caged elves against the cliff behind him. “Though I wouldn’t say we’re in the clear. I think we scared the shit out of the slaves. They likely think we’re bandits — might fight us if they think we’re here to take them.”

“Well, let’s fix that.” Jinki steps past them both to approach the cage.

When he yanks off the burlap obscuring most of it from few, the elves inside glare at him, and the few that are older or larger than the rest push the children behind themselves.

Jinki stops, realizing quickly that he’s ill-suited for convincing a group of scared elves that he’s here for them. He must look wild — the struggle with the mage had smeared a streak of blood across his face, and his hands are still covered with drippings from his gut wound. All, in addition to the vallaslin on marking his face, and they’re more likely to see him as a savage than a former Tevinter.

He clears his throat and makes sure to use his most polite Tevene. “We’re sorry if we frightened you with the fighting. We’re here to free you,” he says, gesturing to himself, then to Taemin and Jonghyun. “Manūmittimus.”

Most of the elves blink at him, still skeptical, but a young boy in the front leans forward to stare with wide eyes. “Truly?”

Taemin steps to stand beside him and answers in Tevene. “Yes, we’re here to help. We’re part of the Inquisition.”

Any trust they had earned seems to disappear as disbelief ripples through the cage in a visible wave.

“But the Inquisition was a Chantry organization, isn’t it?” One of the older women asks. “Two of you are elves, and one of you…” he gestures to Jinki’s face. “Well, I don’t know what you people are called, but I know you don’t believe in the Maker.”

“The Inquisition takes who they can, regardless of race. And I’m a devout believer in the Maker myself,” Taemin says, smiling broad. He reaches for the brooch on his cowl with the Inquisition insignia, unfastens it, and sticks it through the bars. “See? I work for them. I’m a map maker and a scout.”

Her eyes narrow. “You seem more likely to be a spy, considering you speak Tevene.”

“He’s not,” Jinki says. “We were both slaves in Tevinter, same as you. I escaped and joined a Dalish clan — then the Inquisition, when I heard they were fighting a Tevinter cult. Nothing from that country could be good.”

“Well, we can agree on that.” The woman huffs, seemingly in amusement. Her dark eyes flash in the light when she finally steps forward. “Sorry for interrogating you — just wanted to know if we were better off running back to the other slavers in the area in case you were going to use us for something worse.”

“I understand.” Jinki nods grimly. He places a hand on the lock, lifting it away from the cage, and squints at it. “Do you know if they have a key somewhere, so we can get you out of here?”

“There’s no key — it’s a magic seal.” She smiled crookedly. “Otherwise I would’ve picked it myself days ago.”

Jinki swears.

“Don’t worry, Jonghyun can likely do it.” Taemin interrupts. He turns, and Jinki follows his movement, realizing with a start that Jonghyun had stayed back several yards from the cage. “You don’t need to hover back there, you know — come give this a try.”

Jonghyun blinks at them until Taemin waves for him to hurry, then limps forward.

Jinki watches him, torn between wanting to help him and wanting to keep his distance.

Jonghyun’s face is pale, likely from the strain of overusing his magic, and his hands shake when he finally pulls them from his robes to place them on the lock. He murmurs something under his breath, bringing his hand to a glow, then jerks his hand back and bites his lip.

“…The spell’s seal is too complicated for me to break properly, but I think I can do it with brute force.” He casts an apologetic look at the elves inside. “You might want to brace yourselves.”

Each of the elves clutches a nearby bar and turns their attention to Jonghyun’s hands.

Sweat collects on Jonghyun’s brow as pure light rises from his hands. His fingers clutch the lock tighter. The cage shakes, sending tufts of sand into the air and forcing Jinki to squint.

Suddenly, the white glow turns a sharp green, and the very air around Jinki seems to crack. The cage tips, throwing the elves inside onto the ground, and falls with a loud crash.

Jonghyun collapses with it, but his voice rings out clear from inside the resulting cloud of sand a moment later.

“Is everyone alright?” He coughs, trying and failing to wave away the dust as he forces himself up. “I’m sorry about that, I didn’t want to—”

Jinki pushes past Jonghyun to check on the elves. Finding the door of the cage, he yanks it open and helps the first woman he sees climb out. The rest follow after her, until only a few children too small to get out on their own but too weak to be lifted by the others that are left inside. Jinki reaches down and pulls them out, keeping the smallest under his arm until he can pass it to the nearest adult.

A dozen pairs of eyes blink owlishly at Jonghyun in the moonlight, a wariness in their gazes that Jinki recognizes instantly. Back in Tevinter, any human among elves would be the person in charge, and a mage doubly so.

The thought makes him scowl. Though Jonghyun shifts under their stares, clearly uncomfortable, they all stiffen with the acceptance of authority when he stands on shaking legs and clears his throat.

“Do any of you all need healing? I don’t have much energy left, but I can try and help if you have severe injuries or illnesses.”

A rumbling muddle of confused Tevene follows his offer. Jonghyun wrings his hands in confusion, and the woman that had questioned Jinki earlier looks at Taemin with a furrowed brow. Sensing the problem, he steps forward to intervene with his trademark disarming grin.

“If you’re not comfortable being healed, don’t worry — he’s just another a member of the Inquisition. You don’t have to listen to him or accept any magic.”

Jonghyun frowns. “Some of them might need healing, though…they look like they’ve been starved for days.”

“They were just about to be used for blood magic,” Jinki snaps, and only Taemin is near enough to hear him hiss his next words. “They’d be better off far away from any mages right now.”

Jonghyun’s lips tighten. From the stubborn crease in his brow, Jinki thinks he’ll dig his heels in and insist on helping — he saw that expression when they last argued — but this time, he only nods and turns to leave Jinki and Taemin alone with the group of elves, who relax the moment he disappears behind one of the tents still standing in the Venatori camp.

Taemin clears his throat to draw their attention back to him. “Well, anyway — I can give you all directions to safety, if you could provide me with some details on what the Venatori have been up to.”

The elves’ testimony proves everything they suspected: the Venatori planned on using the slaves and an ancient Tevinter ruin to take back the western fortress from the Inquisition. The slaves had no commonality other than that they were all cheaply bought in a bulk purchase from the magister running the operation.

They didn’t have the name of the magister — they were all from the bottom rungs of the market, and had none of the intricate knowledge of political dealings those who worked in magister and other noble houses gained — but simply the title is enough to make Jinki’s blood run cold.

He knows, logically, that his former master isn’t of the character to be involved in such a bloody scheme as this one.

But it had been years. And though he’d seem regretful of what he’d done to Taemin, on that last night when Jinki had forced himself back to his rooms to steal the maps they needed, how much could he trust that?

The magister had promised never to do blood magic, before he did what he did to Taemin. Who knows what he’d be like now, especially after they both ran?

He falls silent as he loses himself in his thoughts. In the background, Taemin’s voice is a quiet drone as he teaches the elves how to read the stars to find their way to the nearest Inquisition camp and a few sources of supplies and water.

What would he do, if the magister were to show up here?

Creators, he wanted to kill the man for everything he’d done. But that would mean seeing him — and if his pathetic attempts at hand-to-hand combat had taught him anything, he should know better than to think he could stand up against the bastard behind all his worst memories.

A hand on his arm jars him out of his thoughts, and he jumps.

“…Jinki?” Taemin eyes him with concern. “Did you want to talk with the elves before I send them on their way?”

He tries to swallow, only to realize his mouth is too dry for it to do anything but strain his throat. “I don’t have anything to say, no. But do you think it’s a good idea to send them back on their own?”

Taemin shrugs. “The more distance we put between them and whatever magister is behind this, the better, considering what the Venatori want is bodies — we don’t want them to get recaptured if we’re out numbered when we encounter another group.”

Jinki nods, seeing the logic. “It is best they leave, then.”

He looks over to the group one last time. A dozen tired faces and pairs of hollow eyes stand before him. Even the woman he had spoken to earlier looks lost behind her mask of determination, and his chest pulls with a painful sort of nostalgia. Had he and Taemin looked so confused when they’d freed themselves and escaped Tevinter?

There had been moments of doubt, if their freedom had been worth it — slavery in a noble’s house was certainly easier, compared to the stealing and running they had to do for weeks — but that doubt had disappeared the moment he saw Hyoyeon. A free elf, a Dalish elf, one that had never been touched by slavery or any other terror the shems could inflict on them.

He lifts his chin, then nods, trying to imitate the everything Hyoyeon had been to him that night, and speaks slowly to suppress every trace of Tevinter in his accent. “Dareth shiral.”

One of the children stares at him in wonder, and two of the elves bow their head back. The rest only stare at him for an awkward moment before nodding to Taemin and turning towards the east horizon.

Jinki and Taemin watch them leave, a quiet understanding between them.

Eventually, Taemin nudges him with his elbow. “We should probably clean up so we don’t smell like crazy cultist guts while we sleep, and find Jonghyun.”

Too drained to bother with words, Jinki mumbles in an acknowledgment and drags himself towards the now-empty Venatori camp. He rubs at his face and grimaces, somehow only noticing then that the blood on his face has cracked and dried. The barrel of water remaining in the Venatori camp is enough to wash the blood off of his face and armor.

The familiar worn and dirtied tan of their canvas tent already sticks out amongst the black fabric of the Venatori’s tents. Jonghyun must’ve gotten sick of waiting for them to return and set it up himself.

He opens the tent flap quietly and steps inside. An empty bedroll rests to the left, and Jonghyun is already resting in the other, flat on his back and chest heavy with sleep.

It’s an inviting image, despite the tension between them. A part of him aches to join Jonghyun under the covers — he could use anything warm and familiar now — but he knows he wouldn’t be wanted there.

Jonghyun had made that much clear by setting up the second bedroll for him.

***

At the rustle of cloth within the tent, Jonghyun startles awake.

His heart races. He knows where he’s no longer dreaming — there’s none of the fog or greenish tint to the air that the Fade had — but fear is still echoing in his pulse.

He slows his breath and turns to Jinki. Maybe if he replaces the image of Jinki from his dreams with the real thing, he’ll calm down enough to go back to sleep.

Jonghyun stares at him, expecting his heart to slow, only to find his throat closing in panic when he spots dried blood under Jinki’s jaw.

Bile surges up his throat. He hurries out of the tent, not bothering to close the flap behind him before bending over to face the ground.

His stomach continues to roll, but when he produces nothing more than spit, he straightens himself with a grimace and wipes at his mouth. So much for trying to go back to sleep.

Warily, he looks back inside the tent. He expects to see Jinki awake and annoyed from the noise he had made running outside, but somehow, he’d managed to stay asleep.

A shiver of fear runs up Jonghyun’s spine, and he snaps his gaze away from Jinki’s face. Though his eyes are closed, he can only imagine them open — open and wild and flashing with triumph as he twists his dagger in the gut of the Tevinter mage and calls him a cursed abomination.

That hadn’t even been an illusion of the Fade — it’d been something he seen happen with his own eyes, transposed from his memories of the night to his dreams.

He knows he’s nothing like the Tevinter mages Jinki hated — he’d never once considered practicing blood magic, and the only powers he cares about are the ability protect and heal — but did Jinki know that?

When they first met, Jinki had threatened him, simply because he was a mage. And Jinki had called him a maleficar, weeks later, after he’d been nothing but friendly and kind.

He’d forgotten and forgiven all that long ago. It’d been easy to, with the apology Jinki had given, and his shift from surly to friendly to subtly flirtatious as the weeks went on…

But the way Jinki had spit out abomination at the mage as he killed him — that same slur he had spit at Jonghyun only a year ago — makes him feel like he might be the next mage on the end of the elf’s dagger.

With a sigh, he fixes the tent flap closed to block out the sunlight and looks out in the distance for Taemin. Maybe he could ask to switch tents, if only till his watch is over.

Heading to the edge of the camp, he finds Taemin on a towering formation of rocks near the cliff wall with his hand in his chin and his gaze out on the far horizon. He approaches the rocks as obviously as he can to avoid startling Taemin, but it doesn’t seem to help.

When he whispers his name, Taemin’s ears flinch violently as he leaps up, and only a quick adjustment in his balance saves him from falling from his perch.

“Andraste’s ass, Jonghyun!” Taemin huffs. He turns to him as he shakes the sand off his breeches. “You scared the shit out of me — I expected you to be knocked out from using magic today. Can’t sleep?”

“I’m having trouble.” Jonghyun smiles wryly. He climbs up the rocks until he’s on one just beneath Taemin.

“Battles tend to do that to people,” Taemin says. “I couldn’t sleep for two days after my first fight with the Inquisition, even though I didn’t do anything in it at all.”

“Mm.” Jonghyun fiddles with his robe, then takes a deep breath. “Speaking of sleep…I actually wanted to ask a favor of you, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh?”

“Could I sleep in your tent tonight? At least until Jinki’s watch starts?”

Taemin’s brow furrows. He stares down at Jonghyun, obviously confused by the request. His mouth opens around a question, but seems to think better of it, because he closes it shortly. “Sure?”

“Thanks. I’ll probably head there in a bit, then.”

Jonghyun leans against the rock to his back, wanting to wait at least a few minutes before heading to find Taemin’s tent. Taemin’s eyes are on him, he knows, still curious and confused from his request, but he pretends not to feel them. He doesn’t want to explain that he’s too afraid to sleep next to Jinki because it seemed more and more like Jinki sees mages as something dangerous and less than human.

The clearing of Taemin’s throat breeches the silence. “Can I ask why you want to stay in my tent?”

Jonghyun sighs.

Of course Taemin would ask.

“I’m not sure Jinki would like me talking about it.”

“I’m not sure he likes anyone talking about anything, usually. Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t.”

Jonghyun laughs, soft and bitter. “I suppose that’s true.”

“Something is really up with you two, isn’t it?” Taemin sighs. “Not that he’s ever chipper, but he’s seemed even less happy since we left the Inquisition. Is it because I found out about you? I tried not to tease him too much, but I can see how me knowing he has a lover at all might make him weird…”

“No, it’s not that.” Jonghyun runs a hand through his hair, only to grimace when his fingers catch in a knot. “It’s nothing to do with you. He’s just…scaring me, a bit. Especially after how he killed that mage.”

Taemin raises an eyebrow. “The Venatori one? I thought you’d be happy he killed him, considering you were in a tight spot.”

“I know. I am, and it needed to be done, but…” Jonghyun hesitates. “I’m not sure if he sees me as any different than them, since we’re both mages.”

“I’d say he does. He wouldn’t sleep with you if he thought you were like the ones from Tevinter, you know?”

Jonghyun frowns. “It’s not that simple.”

“Isn’t it?”

“No.” Jonghyun sighs and resigns himself to explaining in full. “Back at the Inquisition’s main fortress…there was a friend that he made, Minho. He was the templar that spoke to Kibum to give us this mission. I guess he talked to Jinki about Circles. We had a fight about it before we left — it sounds like he thinks the mages should be put back in them, and that their freedom was a mistake.” Jonghyun sighs. “We fought about it. I know I never told him much about life in the Circle — just like he never told me much about Tevinter — but I still thought he’d take my word for things.”

Taemin’s expression tightens. “He really said you should be locked up?”

“Not directly. But he said the Circles might be necessary. To protect people from power-hungry mages.”

Taemin winces. “No wonder you fought. Shit.”

“Yeah.” Jonghyun sighs. “I tried to bring it up again later, after we’d calmed down, but he didn’t see any need to talk about it. So I just…dropped it. And now I’m worried one wrong move on my part will make me seem like one of the Tevinter mages, or he’ll think I’m using blood magic like he did when you were at my cabin, and he’ll…” his throat tightens. “Do to me what he did to the mage last night.”

“I don’t think he’ll do that.” Taemin leans down and places a hand on his shoulder. “I know Jinki. He’s an asshole sometimes, but he wouldn’t murder anyone.”

Jonghyun places his hand over Taemin’s, enjoying the brief contact. “You’re probably right. I just…worry.”

“I get it.” Taemin pats his shoulder before pulling his hand away. “But if you don’t feel safe, you don’t have to stay with him. I was happy for you two, but if it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work.”

Jonghyun nods, then falls silent. As angry and frightened as he’d gotten with Jinki seeming more like a templar and less like the Dalish man he’d known, he’d somehow never reached around the logical conclusion that their relationship would come to an end from it.

He doesn’t want that, does he?

The mere thought feels like a chasm opening in front of him. He tears himself away from it before it can find a way to burrow in his mind and stands up.

“I’m going back to bed. Feel free to wake me when you get Jinki for his turn on watch; I’ll return to his tent then.”

“Sure thing.” Taemin nods. “You get some rest.”

***

The moons are full and bright through the open flaps of the tent when he wakes to the sound of Taemin folding his bedroll.

Fighting back a yawn, Jonghyun sits up and rubs his eyes. He knows that he’d slept since the moment he entered the tent— dim as it was, he had memory of being in the Fade — but it still felt like he’d barely rested.

He rubs his eyes and blinks at Taemin. “You didn’t wake me up?”

“Sorry.” Taemin smiles at him apologetically. “You still looked exhausted. I couldn’t bring myself to.”

“It’s fine.” Jonghyun smiles back. Though he’d meant to slip back into Jinki’s tent once it was empty, it’d probably been good he got the extra sleep.

Jinki’s stare bores into him the moment he leaves the tent.

Had Taemin said something to him after their conversation? He wouldn’t put it past him to interfere, if only for the excuse to lecture Jinki for a change.

Jonghyun straightens his posture, trying not to show his nerves. He still hasn’t decided how much he wants to allow Jinki to see he’s hurting, when all his earlier efforts at reconciliation had been rebuffed.

Jonghyun passes him a warmed bowl of oats and water. Jinki lingers with it after he passes it over.

“Starting something up with him again?” He asks. The tone of his question is teasing, but the smile on his lips is more of a sneer. “Didn’t think it would happen so soon.”

Jonghyun blinks, entirely confused by the sudden question. ”Starting something? I don’t get what you mean.”

“You know — whatever it was you had with Taemin,” Jinki responds. “I suppose you have a thing for elves?”

Jonghyun’s stomach drops before what Jinki had said even sinks in.

Rage boils in his gut. A series of curses rests on his tongue, threatening to spill over. He yanks his hand back and says the first string of words without swears that flits through his mind.

“I don’t have a thing for anyone, in case you haven’t noticed.”

The tattooed curves over Jinki’s brow rise as his eyes widen.

Before Jinki can respond, Jonghyun turns away and bites the inside of his cheek.

Of all the things Jinki could have brought up, he had to bring up Taemin. As if his childhood friend was causing the rift between them, and not his own prejudice.

Anything to avoid bringing up the slurs he’d spit at the Tevinter mage. And the fact that he thinks mages should be locked away and ruled by templars again.

With shaking hands, Jonghyun smoothes out his robe, grabs his staff, and stalks ahead to where Taemin is waiting for them.

Taemin takes one look at Jonghyun’s expression. “Well, you look madder than a drugged dragon.” He glances back over his shoulder at Jinki and frowns. “What’d he say?”

“More ignorant shit, as I should’ve expected.” Jonghyun grits his teeth. “It’s nothing.”

Taemin eyes him skeptically, but eventually concedes with a shrug. “…Alright. I won’t push. But if you need me to tell him off, let me know.”

“I can handle it,” Jonghyun says. “Silence has been working well for us, I think.”

“Well, as long as we get done what we need to get done, I can live with awkward tension every time we stop to make camp.”

“Good.” Jonghyun huffs and adjusts his staff in his hand.

***

From the moment they leave camp, Jinki’s mind is on everything but their surroundings. He barely sees the dunes and rocks around him. Every time he blinks, the image of Jonghyun sleeping in Taemin’s tent appears before him, and everytime he looks over his shoulder, the stony set of Jonghyun’s lips remind him of the hurt beneath the anger in Jonghyun’s voice when he’d snapped at Jinki early that evening.

He doesn’t know whether he’s more angry with himself for lashing out with his snide comment, or at Jonghyun for leaving him to wake up to an empty tent without a word. Though he knows better than to think Taemin or Jonghyun would sleep together, his stomach still twists into knots at the thought that Jonghyun would prefer to share a tent with Taemin over him.

With his thoughts preoccupied, it takes him a while to realize they’re being followed.

At first, he writes off the noises coming from behind them as curious fennec, following them for meal scraps as animals would do with his clan back in the forest — but when he sees a person-shaped shadow stretching from a nearby rock, he twitches his ears back to listen.

With the constant sand blowing through the Western Approach, it’s hard to distinguish the sound of steps — they’d used that to their advantage when attacking the Venatori — but once he concentrates, he can hear the steady crunch of dirt under a pair of feet.

He feigns a scratch at his thigh to pull out the dagger strapped there, then hurries to catch up with Taemin and Jonghyun, who had ended up ahead of him.

Jonghyun clams up the moment he arrives, but Jinki forces himself to keep his expression neutral. “We’re being followed.”

Jonghyun’s first instinct is to look back, and only a quick placement of Taemin’s arm over his shoulder stops him.

“Animal or human?”

“It sounds like a person.“

“Just one?”

“I think so,” Jinki says. “But we should be careful, regardless. One mage is dangerous enough.”

Behind him, Jonghyun voices his displeasure at the comment with a huff, but stops with that.

“I say we confront them,” Taemin says. “Better now than when they have allies.”

Taemin addresses the empty landscape with as much authority as he can muster. “We know you’re following us — show yourself now, and put any weapons you have aside.”

Silence.

Taemin clears his throat. “If you don’t come out, we’ll come looking for you. You’re not likely to get away, and any attack you might make will result in a swift strike back — we’re with the Inquisition.”

A woman’s voice echos back at him.

“The Inquisition?”

Jinki pinpoints the source of the question — a narrow and barren tree rotting between two rocks — and a woman steps out from behind it a moment later.

Her hair spins in a wild tangle above her shoulders that hides her ears, but her eyes gleam like an elf’s in the night. A small dagger rests in one of her hands, and what looks to be a flask of water sits at her waist. Jinki’s stomach lurches at the confidence in her step as she approaches them, and the warrior-like firmness of her arms. Only the bareness of her face keeps him from seeing Hyoyeon in her place.

“Yes, I’m with the Inquisition,” Taemin says, voice still guarded. “Who are you with?”

“No one but myself, at present.” Her lips twitch with mild amusement, and Jinki relaxes instantly. Her accent is entirely Tevinter. “I escaped a week or two ago from some bastards I was sold to. Been wandering since.”

Taemin’s guard falls, and is replaced with his usual grin. “Well, congratulations on that.”

“Thank you.” She smiles tensely and palms her dagger into her other hand. Her movements are tense, as if she’s poised to flee, but there’s no sign of fear in her eyes when she levels them Jinki. “You’re from the Inquisition too?”

“Yes,” Jinki says, wanting to be the one to speak to her. “We were originally sent out here to investigate the old camps the Venatori left behind, since they were supposed to be gone. But then we ran into a party of them, and found they were using blood magic. So we’re trying to stop it.”

The woman startles, and looks at him with wide eyes, likely not expecting to hear her own accent from the mouth a Dalish elf.

“…You’re Tevinter?”

“He is,” Taemin answers for him. “And so am I, if you haven’t already noticed. I like to imagine I have more of an Antivan accent now, but apparently that’s not the case…”

“And him?” She juts her chin out at Jonghyun. “He’s Tevinter too?”

“No,” Taemin says. “He’s a friend of ours. Also with the Inquisition.”

“I see.” Her lips purse in thought, gaze remaining on Jonghyun. He shifts uncomfortably under her stare until she turns back to Taemin. “So — have you stopped the Venatori yet?”

“Not yet,” he says. “We’ve taken care of a few groups, so far, and are sending the elves we free back to the nearest Inquisition camp. But we heard there’s a magister leading this whole plan, and we’re continuing until we find him.”

She nods. “I heard the same — he’s planning on taking out the western fortress. He’ll have a harder time of it if you’ve already freed some of the sacrifices, but still….he’s a powerful mage. One group of slaves might be enough to do significant damage.”

Jinki shivers. He’d heard, through his magister and his fellow slaves, rituals with dozens of sacrifices carried out to kill a powerful rival or boost the mage’s powers. But it had always seemed so distant and improbable, like a heavy nightmare that would never come to pass, compared to the flesh and touch of the magister taking him to bed.

He’d never had time to think of it until the magister proposed using his blood for power. And due to Jinki’s refusal, he’d used Taemin’s instead. Though Taemin had eased his guilt the one time they’d discussed it, back at Jonghyun’s cabin, a part of Jinki still holds himself responsible for the scars that cover Taemin’s body. He wouldn’t let anyone go through that again, if he could stop it.

He turns to the woman, unconcerned that he might be cutting off whatever conversation her and Taemin were having. “You should get out of the area, in case the Venatori find you. We’ve cleared out all the Venatori east of here, so you should be able to get to the Inquisition camp safely.”

Her attention snaps to him, and her eyes glint at the new angle. “I’m not leaving. There’s still more of us out there. They’re scared of the Inquisition, so I want to help you.”

The stubborn set of her jaw echoes his memories of Hyoyeon, and he finds himself needing to swallow a lump in his throat. “I’m alright with that, if you’re a decent fighter. We can’t risk having a liability, since they could just use your blood for magic.”

She grins at him. “Have you heard of the arenas in Minrathous?”

“The magister that owned us never took us there, but I remember hearing of them.”

"I was a fighter there. Did good, for a few years, then had a spell of sickness that weakened me. That’s why I’m here — I was sold to the Venatori when I lost one too many fights.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re not stuck with them anymore. We’re much better company.” Taemin smiles and leans towards her. “Though I don’t believe we’ve caught your name yet…?”

“Seungwan.” She finally puts her dagger in the small sheath at her side. “And yours?”

“I’m Taemin. Official Inquisition mapmaker, and unofficial leader for this mission.” He gestures behind him with a purposefully grandiose sweep of his arms. “The Dalish elf is Jinki, and Jonghyun is our mage.”

“I see.” She eyes Jonghyun narrowly at the confirmation of his status as a mage, but eventually turns her attention back to Taemin. “I’ll help you all with the Venatori that are left. Do you have any extra armor or weapons? Potions, at least?”

“We have potions, but that’s it,” Taemin answers. “We’ve been taking supplies and rations from the Venatori camps as we go, but we left the last one behind a few miles ago.”

“Then I’ll make do with what I have, until we get some more of the bastards.” The smile she attempts strains at the corners of her mouth, and he flinches with her when her lip splits.

He hadn’t noticed before — he’d been too distracted by the similarities in her build and posture to Hyoyeon — but under the surface of her boasting is a deep weariness from wandering. Even in the darkness, Jinki can see that the skin of her broad shoulders is blistered and burned from exposure to the sun.

Jonghyun seems to notice it at the same time as him, and speaks up from behind them both. “Perhaps we should set up camp early. Sunrise is only a few hours away.”

She eyes him suspiciously, but eventually nods in agreement. “Fine with me. From what I remember overhearing about, their plan is still a few weeks away, and they’ll likely delay it even more once they realize their shipments of sacrifices aren’t coming in.”

Seungwan designates herself as first watch and settles at the highest point in the area.

As Jinki sets up the tents, Taemin marks his map with the landmarks they had passed that night. From the corner of his eye, he watches Jonghyun. The mage fiddles with their single iron pot for a moment before climbing up to the dune where Seungwan had settled.

Even when he tries to angle his ears towards them, he can’t hear the low conversation they’re having. Jonghyun kneels behind her, hands out to hover her shoulders. The soft glow from Jonghyun’s magic lights trickles from where Seungwan had perched to bathe the camp in a blue light that blends purple with the orange from the sunrise.

He turns back to finish the tie on their tent rope before Jonghyun can catch him looking.

To his surprise, Seungwan follows him to sit at the far end of camp. Stretching out her legs, she takes a seat on the ground and digs into her meal. As Jinki had expected, the blistered and peeling skin that had been on her shoulders is gone, replaced by the bright red flush of healing skin.

She wipes her mouth and tilts her head towards Jonghyun. “Strange mage you have here, asking permission before he touches or magics you.”

Jinki takes a long sip of his broth as his thoughts spin from the simple statement. Unsure how to respond, he answers with the shortest response he can manage. “He is.”

“He seems kind. Are all mages in the south like that?”

“I don’t know. He’s the only one I’ve met,” Jinki answers. It’s a half-truth, but it’s the only answer he feels like giving. Joonmyeon and the Keeper of his clan were gone now, and as Dalish elves, they hardly counted.

Seungwan hums. “And you don’t trust him enough to share with him?”

The direct question flusters him. “What?”

“He mentioned that I’ll have to either share a tent with you or him, since there’s only two tents. Which kind of implies you refuse to share with him, doesn’t it?”

Jinki grits his teeth. It made sense for Seungwan to assume he was the one with the problem — most people held wariness of mages — but the thought still angered him, and he speaks without thinking. “I’m not the one who decided that.”

The snap in his voice instantly quiets her, long enough for him to worry that he’s somehow frightened her. But when he glances over, she’s staring down at her empty bowl with a thoughtful expression, plainly trying to work out the implications behind his statement.

It’s the same thing he would do, if he were thrust into a group of strangers and discovered two of them were avoiding each other. But Creators, if she was as nosy as Taemin, and started asking him questions…

He stands and hands what’s left of his soup towards her before she can have a chance to protest. “Here. You can have the rest.”

She blinks down at the bowl, then looks up, a flicker of prideful defiance in her eyes. “I wasn’t that close to starving. You don’t need to give me your meal.”

He shrugs. “I have first watch, and eating too much will make me tired.”

“Thanks.” She takes a deep drink from the broth, not bothering to hide her hunger now, and wipes at her chin. “You’re fine sharing your tent with me, then?”

“I’m fine with it,” Jinki says. There’s another bit of Hyoyeon in her answering smile, and he finds himself returning it. “Just don’t complain when you have difficulty waking me for my watch.”

She snorts. “I know how to deal with that, don’t worry — a bucket of water can wake anyone.”

#jongyu #da au #long fic #i luv seungwan so much ;-;#and jinki Fucks Up Again

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