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sleepyfan-blog · 16 days

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Loss

Author's note: this is the fourth installment in Cedric's story. Prev. Next.

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets

Warnings: character death, canon-typical violence, wounds,

Summary: Fighting against the Tau takes an unexpected turn.

Another mission, another planet besieged by foul xenos. This world was a miserable ball of mud and rain, from what Cedric could tell, and he'd been on this world for several weeks, working alongside his brothers to rout out the blue bastards who had tried to claim this imperial world For the greater good. Bastards were expansionists and haughty bastards. They preferred to hide behind their turrets and guns like the cowards they were, fleeing whenever they could when in close-quarters combat. The blue bastards were taking pains not to target the civilian population as much as possible - which was... Surprising, given the fact that the other xenos that Cedric had fought against had no problems targeting civilians to try and bait out either members of the Astra Militarum or Astartes... In addition to creating truly gruesome and awful traps using said civilians as either bait, part of the trap, or oftentimes both.

Cedric would count that as a blessing from the god-emperor, and knew better than to question such a thing, as that could easily change. He dodged another hail of Lazer-fire, pausing for a moment behind the tree he had taken cover behind to check in on his brothers - Dovo was leading the charge, bolter in one hand, tower shield in the other to give himself and Dessias a bit of cover. His red-headed brother was right behind their sergeant, providing return fire, targeting the joints of the mechs that the blue bastards favored using in battle. Rodron had climbed one of the taller trees and was straddling one of the sturdiest branches, laying across it as he steadied his lasrifle, getting a bead on the enemy leader to fire on them when a good opportunity presented itself. Sevros and Angrald were also charging the enemy line, bolters up and firing tactically at their cowardly enemy.

His five brothers were using their darkly painted armor and the density of the trees, alongside the deep shadows that the near constant rain provided them to keep the xenos off balance as to just where they were. Cedric, as an Apothecary, was in primarily white painted armor and stood out against the dark back-drop... Which meant that he drew the most fire. On the other hand, he made for a fantastic distraction, which Cedric was doing his best to provide as his brothers closed the distance between themselves and the enemy, as they were all primarily short-ranged fighters, though all of them were proficient with both bolters and the laser-based weaponry of the Imperium.

The blue bastards had noticed that the six of them were encroaching on them - but as the local detachment of the Astra Militarum kept firing at them from the other direction, they were pincered on two fronts. The blue fuckers were the most prone to cutting and fleeing like the cowards they were, when the tide of battle turned against them, and, God Emperor willing, they would do so again. This was the six of theirs second mission as fully fledged new members of the Black Templars, and while there were older brothers providing air support and available for assistance if needed, this was a mission that they should be able to complete on their own.

Dovo, Dessias, Sevros and Angrald closed with several of the Blue bastards, the latter two switching from bolter to power sword as Dovo and Dessias provided supportive fire to keep the blue bastards from targeting them while they switched their weapons. Cedric rushed to follow his brothers into melee battle, Rodron providing them with excellent sniper cover. Rodron managed to topple their largest mechs by several well placed shots to the joints of the mech, causing several of the blue fuckers to panic.

"FOR THE EMPEROR! FOR THE IMPERIUM!" Sevros roared as he lunged forward with his power-sword, the heavy two-handed blow cutting through the nearest enemy's armor as if it didn't exist, causing the xeno to choke on their own blood, staggering and sagging forward on the blade.

"FOR THE EMPEROR!" Angrald, Sevros and Dovo shouted back in unison, going after the nearest filthy xenos as all four of them began to cut their way through the enemy forces.

Cedric raced to join his brothers, switching from bolter to power-sword as well, neatly decapitating a blue xenos who had tried to sneak up on Dovo from the side "FOR THE EMPEROR!"

The five of them cut their way through Tau forces as the hours blended into days, with Rodron providing sniper fire and calling out changes in battle - like when another giant xenos mech tried to stomp on them - or when a group of xenos had pretended to be shot dead by the Astra Militarum detachment who were coming closer to melee combat at a slower pace than the small group of Astartes. Each of them had taken some minor damage - a few cuts and bruises here and there, but their armor had held up well, and their own abilities to duck and dodge the worst of the attempted strikes against them.

The blue fuckers were in full retreat, and Dovo had given the order to "Keep up the pressure - we don't want these xenos to think that just because they're tucking tail and running, it means that we'll just let them run away to fight another day uncontested."

"Yes sir!" Cedric, Angrald, Sevros and Dessias acknowledged.

A two-heartbeat later and Rodron called out over vox "Understood, sarge. I see a blue ship headed your way. It's about a klik out and it's got heavy weaponry of some kind on it. You should probably get to cover as I think they're going to target you if you're on open ground."

"Good spot, Roddie. You heard our sniper, fall back to the treeline for cover." Dovo ordered.

Some of the more brave - or stupid - Blues chased them all the way back to the treeline, only to be either cut down by Cedric or one of his melee focused brothers, or shot down by Rodron.

The five of them barely made it in time, as the alien spacecraft roared overhead, weapons blasting down at them. Cedric rushed deeper into the woods for cover, realizing that he was holding his breath, turning to do a headcount after the roar of the ship's engines died - having landed to acquire their surviving ground forces.

Dovo had already turned around, visor tilted in the direction of the enemy spacecraft, arms crossed over his chest, likely trying to come up with ways to either neutralize the ship or acquire it for their own purposes. Xeno technology was heresy to use long-term, but to use it against the xenos themselves in battle was allowed - so long as one properly repented to the chaplain later. Angrald was being helped up to his feet by Dessias, having collided with the base of the tree accidentally during his combat roll. Rodron was still up in the tree, clearly watching the xenos through his scope and taking pot-shots at them to keep up the pressure. and Sevros-

...

Where was Sevros? Astartes did not feel fear. Astartes did not feel fear. And because Astartes did not feel fear, Cedric's breathing didn't become much faster as he did another two head-counts, coming up with one person short of their full squad. Sevros much just have rolled into a particularly thick and thorny bush (again) and needed assistance in wrenching his free of the local flora...

Sevros crawled toward them on his hands, his back a bloodied and burned mess, his legs limp as he dragged himself forward. Cedric Did Not feel panic as he rushed over to his brother's side, Dessias and Angrald helping him carry their injured brother further from where the xenos were frantically trying to pile into their ship. He immediately felt himself slide into a state of forced calm as his hands and mouth went into autopilot, ordering Angrald to help him remove the destroyed remains of Sevros' backback and armor. He began to clean and dress Sevros' extensive wounds - the other had taken a round that could have felled a Dreadnaught to the back, it was a miracle that he was alive, much less able to move at all. HE silently muttered a prayer that the god-emperor would see fit to allow Sevros to retain his ability to walk once he healed.

Cedric was wholly focused on his injured patient, and wasn't terribly surprised when the rest of his squad refocused on Other Things. His main job was to keep his brothers alive and intact enough to keep on fighting, which he was desperately trying to do. Sevros' breathing was getting shallower. He swallowed back a wave of Unnecessary Emotion as he continued to work diligently on patching up Sevros as best as he could. They'd trained together since first becoming aspirants and had survived so much. Cedric had no plans on losing his brother on some wet muddy rock to xenos.

"Cedric." A voice called out.

He had to keep working on Sevros. The other's breathing was undetectable, but that didnt mean much. He was just sleeping, having passed out from the pain. He was going to be fine. Cedric was going to make sure of that.

"Cedric!" The same voice called out, much louder and much closer.

"Unless you are actively dying, please wait your turn to be patched up. I... I'm working on Sev right now." Cedric snapped back, not bothering to look up at whoever was talking to him. Maybe another stim shot, to keep Sevros' awake? The shcock of a wound like this could kill if it went to far.

"BROTHER-APOTHECARY CEDRIC!" The voice... No, Dovo, bellowed directly into his ear, startling the young medic to the point he nearly swung at him with a fist. "He... He's gone. You did your best, but a wound like that... Isn't survivable outside of a dreadnaught. You know that, as well as I do."

"But... But there's... There's got to be something in my pack to help him... I've just... I just need to find it." Cedric protested, his eyes stinging and blurry. He was rapidly blinking, trying to clear his eyes.

"His hearts have stopped, and he hasn't breathed in minutes. That wound was too much for him. Would've been too much for any of us. The xenos have fucked off world. We need to report back to the mortal military commander, then we'll take him back to the ship for funerary rites." Dovo pointed out, his voice calm and even, the bastard "Are you going to make me order you to leave him?"

"... I'll need to take his gene-seed, since I've got... I've got the time. It's protocol." Cedric's mouth said. Internally he could hear something, someone screaming. He swallowed down the noise as his blood covered gauntlets flipped him over. Sevros' eyes were still open, but the light of life had left them.

"... Right. Rodron, Dessias help Cedric recover the gene-seed and guard his body. Angrald, you're coming with me to talk to the mortals." Dovo ordered before leaving with Angrald.

Cedric's hands performed the surgery that he'd only seen done a handful of times and participated in twice, on much older brothers who had fallen in battle against the forces against the Imperium. Why was it so different now? He made sure that his hands did not shake until after the gene-seed was removed and safely placed in the stasis jar and nestled securely in his pack. He closed Sevros' eyes and stitched up the wound he'd made. Numbness and Emotions He Shouldn't Be Feeling battling for dominance inside of him.

#my writing #warhammer 40k #black templars #black templar ocs #oc: cedric #oc: sevros #oc: dessias #oc: rodron #oc: angrald #oc: dovo #cw: character death #cw: canon typical violence #cw: blood #cw: wounds

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nin-varisse · 1 year

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Maglor for the ask game please!

-@thelordofgifs

Maglor for the character ask game

Thank you so much for asking! @thelordofgifs

One aspect I love about Maglor

I love that he has two very distinctly different sides: The loyal, fierce and seemingly merciless warrior and the man who raises two orphans in such a gentle way that love grows between them and they grow up to be great leaders of men and elves. He’s one of the most morally grey characters.

One aspect I wish more people understood about him

It bothers me sometimes that I see people make him out to be the good and harmless Son of Feanor. While he is the one who makes the most effort to repent and better his wrongdoings especially with raising Elros and Elrond, he did participate willingly in three kinslayings. He is a fierce and scary warrior with great loyalty towards his house. He kills Ulfang without any remorse as soon as he learns that he was a traitor. It’s only in the end that he voices his doubts after seemingly having no problems with Alqualonde and Doriath (it’s Maedhros who searches for the twins, not Maglor!). And still, he agrees to kill the guards for the Silmarils without much resistance.

One headcanon I have about him

Maglor doesn’t usually fight with weapons. Similar to Finrod’s fight against Sauron, he mainly uses his voice to stun and kill his enemies. He has perfected it in a way that sometimes all he needs to do is sing as he storms a camp and people will drop dead. But this also has the effect that he stops singing in his freetime and for his loved ones because he can’t stand to hear his own voice that has caused so much harm pretend to sound soft and soothing.

One character I love seeing him interact with

There’s really not much canon interaction between him and the twins but I love to read everyone’s headcanons and scenarios about him raising them. It’s so sweet! (i know this is technically cheating but please let it slide)

One character I wish he would interact with (more)

I would really like to see him interact with any of his cousins, we don’t know at all if he is close with any of them! I’m especially curious about his relationship to Finrod and Fingon since they are also mighty singers of the Noldor and if he sees them as his friends or rivals. Also an interaction with Daeron would be super interesting!

One haedcanon that involves him and one other character (Feanor)

I headcanon Maglor to be the Son of Feanor with the least interest in smithing. Feanor brings all of his sons to his forge when they are old enough to find out which smithing style suits them most (as in jewelry, armory, tools, etc.) and each of them turns out to be a decent smith even if they end up picking a different craft later on. Maglor is the only one who’s bad at all the things Feanor tries to teach him and he’s only ever interested in music. Even though he never directly told Maglor, it used to really frustrate Feanor. How could one of his sons be bad smith with him as a father?! That only changes after he attends Maglor’s first concert in Tirion. Ever since then he’s been the biggest supporter of Maglor’s musical career, he even had him compose a hymn for the House of Feanor.

#i hope you liked this!#cw: canon typical violence #feel free to send any other characters in!#maglor #ask game #silmarillion #character analysis #silm #nin's thoughts #asks

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proeliiator · 4 months

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Most of Cato's kills were quick, efficient. A snap of the neck, a sudden slice of a sword, the sharp sound of a whistling spear thrown through a vital organ. For the most part, Cato's attention was off the person he'd killed before their body even hit the ground. He couldn't tell you how many there were, let alone who they were. ( In verses where he makes it out of the arena, this would change with time. ) They didn't really matter. Their whole purpose was to die, right? They were just obstacles to be overcome, hardly even people at all.

There were three exceptions in Cato's mind who warranted a slow and meaningful death: Katniss, Peeta, and Thresh. Cato had it out for Katniss from the start. It was a matter of pride, of proving to himself and all of Panem that some scrawny thing from District 12 had no right pulling such a high score and causing such a fuss in the Capitol. She was the one kill he'd really cared about at the start. Whatever else happened didn't much matter, as long as Cato got to be the one to kill the girl on fire. But then Peeta's betrayal shifted things and killing Katniss wasn't Cato's top priority anymore.

Peeta managing to get away from Cato with only that one cut to his leg had been due to the combination of the Tracker Jacker's venom wrecking havoc through Cato's system and the absolute certainty that Cato had that bleeding out or infection would take Peeta. It would be slow and painful and that was what Lover Boy deserved. When that wasn't what happened and it was time for the Feast, Cato had relented and agreed to let Clove kill Katniss in favor of Cato taking the opportunity to hunt down Peeta so he could finish what he had fucking started.

Yet again, things didn’t go to plan. Thresh hadn’t even been on Cato’s list until the Feast, until he’d heard Clove frantically calling his name and had gotten to her too late all because he’d stupidly thought himself and Clove to be untouchable and was proven unthinkably wrong.

#ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴ // feeding my need to be known .#CW: canon typical violence #not me writing this wayyyy past my bedtime #more of meta than headcanon but #whatever close enough!

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thescientistowl · 2 years

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Dawn Eases Night, part 2

Hello again, everyfolk!

I finished chapter two quite quickly. I'd like to say I could keep this schedule up, but I'm back at work in a couple of days so a new chapter will probably be evey week instead. It's still not edited... or beta read... so again, I'm sorry if some of it is just... bad.

Please enjoy the second chapter! In this one, Aloy remembers the time she let Nil ride a machine back in the Sundom!

It has the same warnings as before, with a brief mention (and that is it - a mention) of rape. We haven't got the the dark stuff yet, but please stay safe when you read, friends.

Chapter Two : In Great Strides

Aloy had returned to her room, leaving both of her wooden companions to watch over the common room for her. After she had cleaned herself in her basin, tidied her bed-tussled hair and affixed her armour, she turned to her nearby weapon rack and picked out the weapons she would need to take with her. Her faithful old bow was a must, as was her spear and override module, of course, but she also picked out her new blast sling, named The Wings of the Ten by the Tenakth, and her favourite tripcaster.

Her warrior bow, Carja’s Bane, hung next to her usual bow, and Aloy smiled as she remembered the race that had led not only to gaining this prize, but to her and Nil having their long-awaited reunion under the bright holo-lights of what had once been Las Vegas.

Aloy had her hopes beforehand, that Red Teeth would actually turn out to be no other than the Carja hunter that she had come to see as one of her closest friends. The shared grey eyes, the confident yet deadly way in which he moved, the mass of strong, taut muscles… but then he had spoken to her at Bonewhite Tear, and though some of the attitude was the same, his voice was nothing like Nil’s. It was too rough - not unpleasant, no, but it shared no hint of the smooth timbre of Nil’s tone.

Her hopes had risen again when they raced, watching him elegantly mount his Charger before the race, his posture so very alike to a time long ago when Aloy had allowed Nil a chance to ride her own machine.

No. She was just hoping. Again. Just like she had when she had seen red rushing through the long grasses of the world, only for it to be an animal disturbing it and not a Carja hunter with red feathers above his head. It had not been him when a temporary ally’s arrow had hit its mark. It had never been Nil, not since the battle of Meridian, not since he had left the aftermath of the fight before her. Red Teeth was just the latest in her mind’s (or her heart’s) attempts to find Nil somewhere, anywhere, in the world.

But then she had won the race at the Stillsands, and as it had been decreed by Red Teeth himself, anyone who bested him on the track would see his face.

Red Teeth had waited patiently for her, away from the gaggle of Tenakth teenagers that Aloy had become very fond of. She had to admit it - she was intrigued to see who it was that hid beneath the mask, and why.

And then the mask came off. A head of short, soft and messy black hair, a pair of grey eyes that were now as bright as the lights surrounding them, and an all-too familiar smile that made her heart flutter uncontrollably. His strong jaw was the same as before, as were the hollows of his cheeks and the height of his cheekbones, but somehow his face seemed fuller, and all of it was blanketed behind Tenakth face paint. But the man stood before her was, unmistakably, Nil.

When he spoke, the voice that she remembered so well and with so much affection returned, all available vestige of his Tenakth disguise thrown aside just for her.

Of course it had been Nil the whole time. Why had she ever doubted it?

Of course he would have found his way out west, as she had, where he was now living a happy life of machine races and controlled violence.

Of course that one time she had let him ride her Charger would have led him down this path…

----------

Three weeks after the Stalker attack…

The midday heat of the Sundom was not kind to outsiders, as Aloy had very quickly discovered in her time in the Carja homeland. Though she was physically at rest atop her Charger, Buddy (an altogether ‘original’ name for the override, but a fitting one none the less), the metal of his sun-soaked body seeped into her skin.

Heat from above, heat from below. Just perfect.

She was not far from Brightmarket now, and so she left Buddy at the bottom of the path that led up to the small town and made her way on foot. She needed to speak with the fruit store merchant Gulahni. She wondered if Dekamin, the thief who had stolen from the kind merchant, had kept to his word and returned to apologise. She was pleasantly surprised to see that not only had he apologised, but that he was now working for Gulahni.

For the first time in the last couple of weeks, weeks in which she had both seen and heard the very worst crimes that humanity could do to others, Aloy felt a sense of hope.

That hope was very nearly dashed when she found Nill at the dockside market, having a very terse conversation with one of the merchants. She could not hear what it was that Nil said, but the merchant – and several others with him – demanded that Nil leave. From the sound of his low grumbling, Nil was furious.

She had to do something.

“Wait, Aloy!”

A hand quickly pulled her aside, and she turned to find both Dekamin and Gulahni dragging her to a secluded archway, away from the raised voices.

“What,” Aloy shrugged them off, “are you two doing?”

“You don’t want to go over there.” Dekamin’s voice was shaky. “Some of those merchants are horrible people. And they look angry.”

Gulahni shook her head. “That man, he has come here before, but it is always the same. They refuse him. I think I am the only one who will trade with him, but he rarely comes here looking for fruit.”

Aloy turned to look back at Nil, who threw his arms in the air before stalking away empty handed. He did not see her hidden in the shade, but Aloy saw his face as clear as day; sharp-edged, snarling, and gone was the warmth in his eyes, like molten metal, instead returned to the calculating and icy grey she had found when she first met him.

Aloy straightened, making to move towards the gathered merchants, before Gulahni held her arm. “You may want to let them calm down before you even attempt any trade.”

Instead, Aloy pointed at Nil’s quickly retreating back. “That man, he’s…”

He’s what, Aloy? Your friend? Could she even consider him a friend? Did she even have friends, or did she just have amicable associates? Erend seemed amenable enough, Varl had seemed to like her, and her fledging partnership with Talahna was reaping some positive rewards. But were they friends? Aloy didn’t even know what friendship, what kinship with another, was supposed to feel like.

Her mind travelled to her last meeting with Nil. She watched as memories played swiftly before her; of how she had grown comfortable with his company, the small delight she had taken in their shared meal together, and of how Nil himself had warmed as that day had continued.

Was this… friendship?

Aloy broke from her thoughts, turning to look at the fruit seller and her new apprentice, who were both eyeing her cautiously.

“He’s a partner of mine.” Aloy said with finality. “I need to know what happened, and what better place to start with than them?” She thumbed in the direction of the gathered crowd.

Both Gulahni and Dekamin stood aside, wishing her well, before they returned to their warehouse, and Aloy approached the fizzling band of angered merchants.

“What was that all about?” Aloy questioned the man who appeared to be the ringleader of this nest of angry Glinthawks.

“Him?” The merchant spat as he pointed down the hill. “Nora, I don’t even know where to begin with that one, but I do know that I won’t ever take his shards.”

“Why? Are his shards not good enough for you?”

The merchant balked under her gaze but spoke his piece none the less. “Tainted, they are, girl. I don’t want tainted shards in my hands. None of us here do,” he gestured to the nearby shop keepers, who all muttered in agreement. “No one with any amount of sense would want to associate with him. He’s… twisted. Not to be trusted.”

Aloy arched an eyebrow. She knew that Nil was secretive, and he had rarely spoken about himself outside of small riddles and little flashes of truths regarding his more murderous nature, but she had absolutely no reason to not trust him. He had not hurt her. He had not hurt innocents during their time together. In fact, she had just witnessed him walk away from a situation in which he had clearly wanted to partake in physical violence.

Twisted or not, Aloy trusted him.

“Alright, well, what did he want to buy? I’ll buy it instead.”

The merchant stalled. “Nora, are you crazy?”

“No, I’m a paying customer. With clean shards.” She spat. “You like clean shards, don’t you?”

The merchants turned to one another, chattering nervously amongst themselves. Aloy huffed, irritation and indignation rising from her gut at a rapid pace.

“Either you give me the things that he wanted, or I take everything here by force and slam a bag of shards in each of your faces!”

Again, the traders looked to each other, but nothing was said. Wordlessly they went about gathering small pouches and filled them with various jars and herbs, taking their time as they did so. Some jars looked as though they contained dyes, others looked to be tonics, but as curious as she was, she wouldn’t pry as to their usage. Instead, Aloy huffed again, looking over her shoulder and to the path out of town. Hopefully she would be able to catch up to Nil, though with the speed at which the merchants worked it was becoming unlikely. She would have to track him down instead.

With the little packs finally full and in her hands, and her shard pouch feeling a lot lighter than it had been when she arrived, Aloy turned to each of the shop keepers in turn with a sickeningly sweet smile.

“Thank you so much for your cooperation. Perhaps I’ll come here again, for myself next time?”

“No,” the leader said, “no, you keep away too. I don’t care that you saved the Sun-King – you are trouble, just like him, I can tell!”

“What a shame,” Aloy replied, taking several steps forward, inching the man closer to the edge of the docks where he wobbled dangerously close to the boundary between dry land and the water below. “But I have other places to be, so I won’t keep you hanging around.” She paused. “Can you swim?”

He nodded, eyes widening.

“Good.”

With a gentle push of one of her fingers into the man’s shoulder, he toppled backwards and into the river with a satisfying sploosh. The merchants behind her exploded into angered shouts, and whilst very few of them offered to help their fellow trader out of the river, most were content to call her a savage, an uncivilised wretch, a fool.

Aloy simply walked away, waving to both Gulahni and Dekamin as she left Brightmarket behind. She wouldn’t return to this place in a hurry, that much was certain.

She returned to Buddy, where she securely tied the new packs to his sides. She was about to search the ground for Nil’s tracks, preparing to use her focus if necessary, but then she paused. As far as overridden machines went, the ones controlled by the ‘Buddy’ code seemed more intelligent than the others. Perhaps…

“Buddy?”

The Charger turned to face her, chuffing pleasantly.

“Do you remember when I first uploaded you into a Strider? And as we left the Embrace we saw a man by the roadside.” She paused, noting that Buddy was watching her intently, blue optics pulsing ever so slightly. “Do you remember him?”

Buddy’s head swung upwards, front legs tapping methodically into the ground.

“I’m guessing that’s a yes,” she uttered to herself, before returning to the machine in front of her. “Did you see him come passed here?”

Again, Buddy’s head swung, his feet tapped, and an excited whinny came from his speakers.

“Great!” Aloy beamed as she swung herself onto his back. “Did you see where he went? Can you follow him?”

Buddy broke into a sprint, over each bridge that led away from the town, and away from the cliffside that led towards Meridian, heading upwards to Cut-Cliffs. There, Aloy asked the locals if they had seen him, but all of them were suspiciously unaware of the presence of any newcomers.

So she turned instead to her tracking abilities and her focus, both of which found footprints that matched the long-legged and hurried stride of someone who wanted to be away from people, from civilisation.

She and Buddy travelled West, into a thin and winding canyon, her focus highlighting Nil’s tracks all the way until, at last, they came to a stop…

And several bandits lay dead next to a barely simmering fire.

The cuts on them were distinctive, as were the metal arrows – clean kills, but ones that aimed for the places that would cause the most pain. Nil’s handiwork.

Looking around, Aloy found in the near distance a fallen tree that was pinned between the rock faces of the canyon. The trail continued in that direction. With a gentle kick Buddy moved once more, Aloy collecting the arrows from her mounted position as they passed and cleaning them with an old cloth. Buddy took her down a steep climb and towards the nearby river, where the tracks continued on the other side, leading to the large cliff face of an imposing mesa, atop which were sat ancient, rotting, dish-like structures.

Aloy had been there before, with Erend. Had Nil climbed up there, as she had before?

“Hope you like water, Buddy.”

Before Buddy had a chance to bleat his reply, Aloy drove him towards the river, into the shallow rapids, and onto the other side of the bank.

“Sorry,” she genuinely stated, patting his head. “But I need to see where the tracks go.”

Buddy’s reply was a violent shake to rid himself of excess water, and a peeved digital huff to make his point.

The tracks did show that Nil had, in fact, scaled the mesa in a similar fashion to which she had weeks before, as machine and rider came to a stop at the foot of the cliff. Aloy’s eyes followed the highlighted purple trail skywards. She didn’t particularly want to carry the extra weight up the cliff herself if she could avoid it, as whatever it was that was in those bottles was heavy. It was an old world structure sat above them and so there must have been a road or at the very least a path. They just had to find it.

And find it they did as they skirted the edge of the mesa, outrunning Snapmaws and Ravagers as they did. Following the winding path on machine-back was treacherous, but Buddy was sure-footed and took the trail at a much slower pace than he usually would.

As they crested the mesa, Buddy slowing to little more than a walk, Aloy found herself looking down the point of an arrow, and further to grey eyes brimming with anger, frustration...

Or at least they had been. Upon realising just who it was that he was looking at, Nil’s eyes softened and his bow was lowered.

“It’s just you, Nora girl.” His voice was like gravel.

“Hi,” Aloy forced a smile and a little wave before dismounting Buddy and leading the machine towards him, though in her mind she was still wary. He may have calmed, but there was still something behind his eyes that she could not quite place. Not murderous intent, but something else.

It was Nil’s turn to force a smile, and it was one that never could have hoped to reach his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“I was in Brightmarket - had to check up on someone.” She paused for a moment, registering that Nil’s stance hardened. “I didn’t catch the details… but I know that the merchants didn’t want to sell anything to you.”

He remained quiet. Uncomfortably so.

“So, I figured I owed you a thank you; I never did say thanks for helping me with those... Stalkers. Here,” she reached around to Buddy’s sides, taking the pouches full of Nil’s things and held them out to him with both of her hands, her arms registering just how weighted they were. “These are for you.”

For a while Nil stood perfectly still, searching her face for something.

“And if it makes you feel any better,” Aloy began, a sly grin crossing her face, “I did push their ringleader into the river afterwards.”

Nil barked a laugh, the tension in his body slowly easing. A wave of relief washed over her as she offered him each of the packs, and he took them with a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” She handed him the last pack before turning to her quiver, pulling out the now clean metal arrows. “I brought these, too. Wouldn’t want you running short when you need them.”

Aloy had not realised it was possible for one man to look so grateful, but Nil had achieved it.

She watched as he moved away, placing his retrieved arrows in his own quiver, and walked towards his small pile of belongings, all of which were placed neatly in the shade of the ruins. He was planning on staying for the night, at the very least.

Returning to Buddy, Aloy offered the machine a small smile. “Guess we’ll be going then?” She spoke softly to the Charger, who whinnied quietly. She turned to Nil, who had looked up from his kneeling position on the ground. “I mean, you probably want some peace and quiet, and Buddy here is neither peaceful nor quiet.”

Buddy chuffed loudly, slamming a hoof into the ground.

“Exactly.”

Nil remained knelt by his things, his eyes flicking between Aloy and Buddy in turn.

Aloy smiled, waving her hand. “Just try not to get yourself killed out here, okay?”

“You can stay if you like, girl.” Nil replied, a little too quickly. “I have some food with me - I can make another meal for the both of us, if you’d like?”

She was hungry, and the thought of trying more of Nil’s delicious food was very tempting. She was also beginning to run low on energy again, she could feel it. She needed to rest, or she would be useless to everyone.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

Nil’s smile was large and toothy. “Wonderful.”

And so they set about making themselves a small camp, choosing to take shelter in one of the broken buildings for a little extra cover from the gradually growing winds. Nil had agreed to hunt for meat and so Aloy was left to tend to the fire, but she also found suitable places for their bedrolls so that they could sit and eat around the campfire in some degree of comfort. Buddy simply laid outside on the ground, his legs tucked beneath him, and gently surveyed the area. Aloy casually wondered if he was keeping watch.

With her ministrations complete, she turned her attention instead to Nil’s feathered headdress. He had left it behind as the breeze had grown stronger, and so Aloy decided to take a closer look. It was surprisingly heavy as she lifted it, turning it this way and that, and discovered that it was actually a fully-fledged helmet underneath all of that red plumage. The fanned metal plating at the front, that she had assumed to be some kind of diadem, was only one piece of an exceptionally well-made helmet of dark metal plates and interwoven feathers. It was, actually, quite beautiful, and not nearly as ridiculous as she had first thought it to be.

It also happened to look a lot like the helmets worn by the Kestrels at Sunfall, and that thought rolled uncomfortably over her. She had heard of the terrible things the Kestrels had done under Helis’ command during the Red Raids: torture, slavery, assault and rape to name but a few. Had Nil..?

No, stop it.

Avad had deemed it reasonable for Nil to spend only two years in prison. If Nil had done even half of the things she had heard of, Avad would never have been so lenient. No, perhaps he had come across this helmet during his travels. But the merchant’s behaviour towards him was odd. What trader, in their right mind, would turn away any shards?

Putting the helmet back in place, Aloy busied herself with collecting some nearby medicinal plants instead, her hair whipping her face as the wind grew greater. She trusted Nil. She trusted him. Whatever explanation that he had for the helmet, for the merchants fear and hatred of him, could wait.

Nil returned a little while later with some rabbits that he had already skinned, and they sat in companiable silence whilst he cooked their meal.

After a while, whilst the meat was left to simmer in the cook pot, Nil turned to Aloy with a raised eyebrow. “Buddy?”

“Oh, yeah,” Aloy looked out of the ruined building to where Buddy remained hunkered down, bleating into the wind. “I wanted to give him a name, and I just… well, it seems fitting.”

“It is a strange machine. As have been any of the machines I have seen you riding.”

“Yeah, he is.” She smiled. “I don’t know what it is exactly, but when I override a machine that I can ride, it always seems to take on a life of its own. I know now that it’s the same override each time, but I don’t understand why it works differently to any other machine that I can control.” Aloy paused, frowning. “Maybe it has something to do with the permanence of the override? Any other machine only stays under my control for a little while…”

She had been muttering to herself again, she knew, when she turned to Nil and found him frowning in confusion.

“I did not understand a single thing that you just said, girl.”

“Sorry. I just talk to myself sometimes. It helps me think.” It also meant that her focus could record her thoughts for future use, but she wasn’t going to explain that to him.

Nil scowled before turning his attention back to the machine outside. The wind was howling now, buffeting Buddy with sharp swathes of sand. He was going to sustain some damage if Aloy didn’t do something.

“Buddy!”

The Charger’s head turned, grumbling up at her.

“Jump up here, get out of the sand! Who knows what it will do to your joints?”

Buddy did not need to be told twice, rising to his feet and leaping the short height to reach them. With a pleased chuff, Buddy returned to his seated position, close to where Nil sat, and casted his optics out and into the growing sandstorm.

Nil, to his credit, did not flinch once, unlike so many others who had come so close to one of Aloy’s overridden machines.

Aloy turned to Nil, suddenly curious. “I’m surprised you didn’t see him when you left Brightmarket.”

“I believe I was too far gone into anger to see much of anything.”

“But you found the bandits?”

He turned to her with a sharp smile and a flash in his eyes. “I always find my kill.”

When the meal was cooked, both Aloy and Nil sat and savoured the little peace that they had found in a literal storm. Once again her tastebuds delighted in what she ate, and she savoured each mouthful with a grin on her face.

“May I approach your machine?” Nil, who had finished his portion of the meal, pointed in Buddy’s direction. Buddy, meanwhile, turned his head slowly, looking towards Aloy. If only she could read what the thrumming in his optics meant.

“Sure, he won’t bite unless I ask him to.”

Nil smirked, moving towards Buddy with deliberately careful steps. As he reached the machine’s head, he lowered himself to his knees.

“May I touch you, Buddy?”

Buddy inclined his head, looking between Nil and Aloy in turn. Aloy nodded, and so Buddy returned to Nil and held his head forward. Slowly, Nil raised a hand and rested it atop one of Buddy’s curved horns, giving the smooth metal a gentle rub as he did.

“It has been a long time since I have been so close to a calm machine,” Nil’s voice was almost drowned out by the storm, but the awe in his tone was unmistakable.

“Since the derangement?” Aloy asked.

Nil nodded in reply, his eyes not leaving the blue of Buddy’s optics.

Aloy paused for a moment, curious. “How old were you when the derangement started?”

She watched as Nil paused, and she felt as though she had asked the wrong question with the prolonged delay in his answer, but eventually he turned to her.

“I was five years of age, I believe. Before that, I would walk among the machines, as many did, with no fear of attack. Oftentimes they would simply run away from us, or they would ignore our presence.” He smiled then, turning back to Buddy and giving him a firm pat on the head. “I always found myself to be quite fond of Chargers. Tallnecks too.” He stood, returning to his bedroll and laying himself out on his back, arms under his neck to cushion his head.

Aloy smiled. The world before the derangement sounded downright peaceful.

“I like Tallnecks too,” she whispered. “The first one I ever saw was outside Devil’s Thirst. I won’t lie, I was terrified at first – there were no machines that big in the Embrace.”

“Do you miss home, girl?”

She laughed, bitterness seeping into her voice. “I don’t have a home there. Not anymore, anyway. I… wasn’t a part of the tribe. I was an outcast.”

What was she doing? Why was she telling him this?

Nil’s head turned to her, his eyes curious. “I have heard of this strange Nora custom. But I don’t see what you could have possibly done to have earned such a cruelty.”

“Neither do I.” She seethed, the barely buried anger and frustration quickly rising to the surface. “All I know is that I was found abandoned in All-Mother mountain, just a defenceless newborn baby, and that many in the tribe took my being there, being motherless, to be some kind of bad omen.”

Nil had sat up sharply, his brow furrowed.

“I was an outcast from birth,” she breathed, unable to meet his eyes. “Lucky for me, I guess, that one of the matriarchs didn’t think I was an omen or a curse. She took me to another outcast, Rost. He raised me; taught me how to hunt, how to track.” Her breath hitched in her throat, burning at her. “To survive.”

Rost. Oh, Rost…

“And now he’s gone!” Tears stung at the corners of her eyes; memories of snow and fire and smoke taking her guardian away from her. “He was the closest thing I ever had to a father, and he died protecting me after the attack on the proving. The home we shared isn’t a home anymore. It’s a grave. And what do I have to show for his sacrifice? I’m a brave, a seeker, for a tribe that still doesn’t want me.”

Through tear blurred eyes she watched as Nil moved and sat beside her, keeping his usual respectable distance, and he passed her a kerchief. His own eyes were dull, but he smiled gently for her.

“Thank you,” she snuffled, wiping away the few rogue tears that had managed to escape. “And sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“If something needs to be said, then let it be said.”

Aloy looked up to him, into his eyes. There was a pain there, not unlike her own, and for a moment she wondered what it was that Nil had been through to make him look as both heartbroken and as lost as she was.

For a moment, Aloy didn’t feel so alone.

“You were an infant.” He finally stated, his voice flat but incredulous, looking away from her with a shake of his head. “You did no wrong. It is their loss, girl, not yours. It is clear that you have never once had need of them, but they needed you.”

She smiled, her fingers tightening around the kerchief still held in her hands. “Rost said something similar, before the proving.”

Nil turned back to her with a small smile. “Then he was a wise man. A good man.”

“He was.”

“He would be proud of you. I know it.” Nil’s voice was so gentle, so quiet, and so very unlike his usual sure, steady and deep timbre.

Aloy bit her lip as she felt more tears threaten to spill over, and she wiped them quickly away. No one had offered her this kindness since she had left the Embrace. Other people may have been nice to her, but she knew that if she had come to them in her own time of need, they wouldn’t have been as understanding or as patient. No, other people just wanted her to fix their problems instead.

They sat together in silence for a long while, listening to the wind howling, watching as the sand flew around their shelter, some of which did make its way inside through old windows or cracks in the ancient walls. Eventually, Aloy returned the kerchief with a small thank you. Occasionally, Nil would offer Aloy his waterskin and she would offer him some dried fruit, but the quiet between them was comfortable enough to go undisturbed.

It was Nil, however, who did break the silence first. “I have a question, girl.”

Aloy looked up at him curiously.

“Would you give me your name?” His voice was soft against the storm, and his eyes curious.

Yes, she never had introduced herself, had she? With a smile she looked away. Oh, she could imagine it now, how he would never refrain from saying her name once he learned it.

And so she turned back to him with a bigger smile than before. “No.”

“And why not?” He raised his eyebrows, doing his very best to look offended.

“Two reasons. First; you can’t honestly expect me to believe that your name is really Nil. And second; I don’t think I could trust you to not wear my name out if I did tell you.”

Nil’s eyes twinkled in delight as a large smile played across his face. “All right, keep your secrets…” his eyes thinned with mischief. “Partner.”

Aloy feigned a groan of exasperation, and both of them quickly broke into laughter shortly after, their voices lost to the winds.

When night fell and the storm showed no signs of stopping, Nil returned to his own bedroll. Separated by the crackling campfire, they shared one last smile before settling into sleep. Buddy kept his watchful optics over them the whole night.

The sunrise brought with it calmer skies, though they were of a cloudy grey instead of the deep blue that Aloy had grown used to during her time in the Sundom. Nil was awake before she was, and she watched as he made them both a small but hearty breakfast using the leftovers from the day before.

Somehow, breakfast was even more delicious than dinner.

It was only when she was packing up her things that she noticed that Nil had once again approached Buddy, running his hands along the blue veins of the machine’s neck, before patting them gently.

“I am still amazed that you can tame these machines, let alone ride them.” He turned to her with a devilish smile. “I’ll admit it: I am a little jealous.”

Suddenly, Aloy had an idea. She wasn’t sure if it was a brilliant idea, but Nil would enjoy it. She hoped.

“Would you like to give it a go?” She asked innocently, with a sweet sing-song voice. I’m sure Buddy won’t mind, will you boy?”

She was certain that if Buddy had facial features with which to express himself, that he would have been giving Aloy the evil eye.

Nil, meanwhile, seemed to vibrate with excitement at the prospect of riding a machine.

“Please tell me you are being serious.” His voice was practically begging her to be speaking the truth.

“Of course, here…” She made her way to his side and patted the part of Buddy’s back that she considered to be the seat. “Sit here, okay? And you can use this bit of muscle to climb up.”

Nil followed her directions, awkwardly swinging his free leg around before uncomfortably shifting atop Buddy’s back. He looked down at Aloy with only a vague sense of concern.

“It takes a little getting used to, being up there. It’s tricky at first, but you get used to it.” She pointed at a small piece of metal and machine muscle. “There, I usually place my feet in that position, but you do have longer legs than me. Just make yourself comfortable.”

After testing several different places, Nil finally settled on a spot and Aloy stood back to examine his riding posture. He looked good atop a machine – too good. Doing her best to ignore the blooming heat rising in her cheeks, Aloy began to run Nil through the different commands she had learned – how to use different kinds of thigh squeezes to control speed, how to turn and stop with the veins that became makeshift reins, and how a small kick to a machine’s side would usher in a sudden start or a burst of speed.

Buddy had remained calm and quiet during the whole experience, and when Nil was finally ready to give the instruction to walk, he did. Nil led Buddy around the perimeter of the ruins, eventually circling back to where Aloy waited for them. Her heart bloomed when she saw just how happy Nil was; his smile was bright, his eyes brighter, and a bubbly laughter escaped him as he gave Buddy the signal to stop. He turned to look down at Aloy with such excitement, such pride etched into every part of him that Aloy’s own smile grew until her cheeks hurt.

“Somebody’s a fast learner. I fell off twice when I first tried this.”

Nil beamed at her. “Can you imagine fighting from atop a machine?”

Aloy snorted. “Of course that’s what your first thought would be. But yeah, I can imagine it… because I’ve done it.”

His eyes blew wide, and Aloy laughed, grinning up at him with such a fondness in her heart that it ached.

“But don’t run before you can walk. Go on,” she nodded to the open space around them. “You can keep going if you like.”

In no time at all, Nil and Buddy were trotting, galloping and then sprinting around the ruins under Aloy’s tutelage. She continued to watch from the side-lines, listening to Nil whoop with delight. Aloy felt that fond feeling in her chest swell. She hadn’t seen him this happy before – even killing bandits didn’t seem to elicit this kind of sheer joy in him. She didn’t want to take him away from it, but eventually both she and Buddy would have to leave.

Especially since Sylens was apparently growing peeved with her inaction, as Aloy heard her focus blip into life as he made contact.

“Are you quite done wasting time here, Aloy?”

“Good to hear from you too, Sylens.” She whispered, keeping her voice low so Nil would not hear it.

“I’m being serious. Whilst you insist on playing teacher to an infamous war criminal, the Eclipse are moving ever forward.”

She could hear the sneer in his voice as he spoke of Nil, and a sudden wave of cold fury washed over her. “Back off and leave Nil out of this.”

“I would like to remind you that Hades is still plotting our imminent demise. Leave your plaything behind and return to Sunfall so we may discover the secrets that we need.”

Of course. Zero Dawn. Sunfall. She knew it had to be done, but she had wanted to spend as much time with Nil as she possibly could.

“Alright,” she hissed. “Just let me say goodbye.”

“Make it quick.”

Her focus blipped again as Sylens cut the line. One day… one day she hoped that she would be able to punch him in the throat.

Now, to ruin Nil’s fun.

She flagged him down, and Nil followed her waving, slowing Buddy down before he came to a complete stop before her.

“Yes, partner?” Nil’s smile was dazzling.

Aloy felt terrible already.

“I need to go, Nil. I’m sorry.”

Nil’s smile wavered for but a second before he nodded, swinging himself from Buddy’s back. He turned to her with a nod of his head. “I understand. Places to go, people to kill.”

“Nil!” She swatted at him with a laugh, her fingers barely grazing his arm.

At her contact, Nil froze, and for a moment Aloy saw something flash in his eyes, saw the way his breath hitched, before his face became neutral.

“You okay?” She asked, trying to not sound overly concerned about his sudden change in demeanour.

He relaxed, a small grin curling his lips, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

“Not quite an answer, Nil, but alright.”

They said nothing as she finished packing her things and tying them once again to Buddy’s sides. It was only as she mounted herself that Nil moved to her side.

“Be careful, partner.”

“And you be careful too.” She pointed down at him. Nil responded with a smile and a nod of his head.

As she and Buddy walked away, she heard Nil call out behind them. “Tell me if you kill anyone interesting!”

Aloy threw her head back and laughed.

As they reached the bottom of the mesa and Buddy broke into a run, Aloy heard as he chuffed with something akin to sadness. She watched as he inclined his head towards the summit of the rockface before his attention was drawn back to the road.

“You like Nil, don’t you?”

Buddy chuffed again, with altogether happier tone.

“Yeah,” Aloy said with a smile, “I like him too.”

The next time they met, just outside the perimeter of the Shattered Kiln bandit camp, Nil had a gift for her; a small, wooden Charger, one lovingly carved and painted, and wrapped in the same kerchief that he had leant to her before.

#hfw #hzd #niloy #nil gets to ride a machine #aloy is a great teacher #cw: canon typical violence #cw: occasional strong language #tw: rape #fanfiction #we're still flashback central over here

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i-drink-and-i-write-fics · 2 years

Text

The Queen’s Guard

Chapter 6: The Guards

Summary: Myria meets Jorah while she discovers all that happened while she and Olenna were in the Reach.

“Ow! Seven Hells! Be careful with that needle!”

Archmaester Marwyn rolled his eyes. “I didn’t realize such a brave warrior was a summer child.”

Myria scowled. “I’ve seen my fair share of winters. That does not dull the needle’s pain.”

“How many have you seen?” Marwyn questioned as he changed the stitching on her wound.

Myria mused. “I would venture to say I have seen seven winters. Each seemingly longer than the last.”

“So it has been foretold in the old texts. Soon the Long Night will be upon us.”

“And if that were to happen?”

“It will be a time to thank the Gods you are in the South.”

“Winter comes for all the realms and the Long Night will be no different.”

The archmaester looked up with a bit of surprise in his eyes. “No, I suppose it will not be. Does this worry you?”

“Only if the Long Night turns out to be true.”

“How could it not? Dragons have returned to the Known World after dying off three hundred years ago. Dragon glass candles light the halls in the Citadel. Magic is returning.”

Myria shifted uneasily. Men she could fight. But these Others? What if mortal weapons could not harm them?

Marwyn continued. “The King in the North believes this to be true.”

“King in the North?” She remembered Tyrion mentioned him months ago, but hadn’t thought it true. “I wasn’t aware there was a new one after what happened to Robb Stark.”

“Funny you should say that. It’s Robb’s bastard brother, Jon. And he’s here with his…Hand? Advisor at the least, Ser Daavos Seaworth.”

“The Onion Knight? How did a man of the South end up as an advisor to the King in the North?”

“I’m afraid you will have to find out yourself. Now, hold still so I can finish. Lady Olenna has been after me to heal you as quickly as possible.”

Myria chuckled. “The Queen of Thorns will always get her way.”

Soon Myria was back to hobbling around the halls of Dragonstone, trying to speed her recovery along. She always hated the time it took to heal. Her mobility to fight was limited, making her vulnerable to any enemy. Before she found herself in High Garden, Myria would burrow away in some hideout as she healed. A place she would have set up if she believed she was staying anywhere for longer than a month. As a result, there were many abandoned ‘rat holes’ all over Essos and parts of the Stormlands.

She was stepping around a sharp corner and came face to face with a man she didn’t recognize. Her dagger was instantly out despite her being a little off-balance. The man just raised his hands to show he wasn’t a threat. He was dressed in black leather armor that was lined with fur, had a bear sigil on the breastplate, and his face was calm. His blonde hair had bits of grey and wrinkles around his eyes. He was handsome, in an older gentleman's way.

“Forgive me,” came his deep, gravelly voice, “I did not mean to startle you.”

The voice hit at the back of Myria’s mind. “Do I know you?”

He bowed slightly as he spoke. “Ser Jorah Mormont, formerly of Bear Island. I serve Queen Daenerys.”

Myria furrowed her eyebrows. “You do? Forgive me, Ser, but I do not remember meeting you.”

“I arrived while you and Lady Olenna were securing the Reach. Our queen ordered me…on a separate task before I joined her in the Seven Kingdoms.”

He was a little invasive in his answer, but if he was one of the queen’s men, who was Myria to judge? At least, not until she had two working legs. She slowly put the dagger away.

“Forgive my quick hands. At times I forget where I am. My name is Myria Storm and I am the personal guard of Lady Olenna.”

“I know. I was there on the beach when you arrived with your lady.”

Then it clicked. “You were the man who help Grey Worm carry me inside. Thank you.”

Tyrion came up the hall at that moment. “Ah, the exact two people I was sent to find. Come, our queen is holding a council meeting and she needs her advisors.”

They followed Tyrion to Daenery’s war room, Jorah keeping pace with Myria’s limp. At first, she was bothered by it as she was used to walking alone. But soon she could tell he was making sure she didn’t take a step back in recovery. When a door unexpectedly opened, Jorah pulled her out of the way so her injured leg wouldn’t be hit.

“Thank you.”

Inside the room, Olenna was sitting at one end of the long desk, Daenerys at the other, and two unknown gentlemen sitting in between them. Yara and Ellaria must still be finding a way to get the Dornish army north without crossing Euron on the seas. Jorah moved to stand at Daenerys’s right while Tyrion moved to stand at her left. Myria limped over to Olenna, who immediately handed her a spare cane.

Myria raised an eyebrow. “Have I been demoted to holding your canes?”

“You could only wish you were so lucky,” Olenna sassed back. “This is for you. I won’t have you hobbling around making that wound worse.”

“Only if I get to club people with it.”

“Only if your aim is as good as mine.”

Myria smirked as she took the cane. “If I could be so lucky.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Myria saw Jorah smirk at the exchange. Tyrion cleared his throat.

“If we could, Lady Olenna.” She nodded her head. “First, Myria, we want to express our gratitude in getting Lady Olenna out of High Garden in one piece.”

Daenerys took over. “As well as the lovely gift you have given me.”

Myria raised an eyebrow. “Gift, Your Grace?”

Daenerys nodded her head towards Grey Worm - who had been off to the side. He walked over to the large wooden table next to Myria and dropped the item down with a loud thud. The gold gleamed in the sunlight that came in through the windows. It was Jaime Lannister’s golden hand.

Myria couldn’t help her jaw dropping. “I- I did not realize I had kept that when fleeing the keep.”

Olenna chuckled. “I took it from your hands when you were forced to carry me through the secret halls so we could escape quicker.”

Tyrion looked uncomfortably at the hand before continuing on. “There is more we will need to catch you up on. Because of your thinking, only parts of the fleet were destroyed by Euron before Her Grace and her dragons burned half of his fleet. He has fled back to the Iron Islands to regroup. The South remains a fortress and the Dornish are free to travel north. Though, to be safe they are taking the King’s Road.”

“Glad to hear we’ve been successful on those fronts. And I see we have new faces as well in the war room.”

Tyrion nodded. “You already met Ser Jorah.”

Myria nodded her head in the knight’s direction.

“And this is Jon Snow, King in the North, and his advisor, Ser Daavos Seaworth.”

“Your Grace, it’s a pleasure.”

Jon Snow seemed uncomfortable at the title and Daenerys seemed to stiffen a bit. There seemed to have been more that Myria had missed while in the Reach, but she could find out from the Spider later.

The King in the North nodded his head in awkward acknowledgment. “Thank you.”

“If I may, though, I’ve never known a Northerner - King, Lord, or otherwise - to travel this far south. Especially to Dragonstone, given the family history.”

Tyrion tried to hide a grimace at the reference while Daenerys seemed to remember that she still had to earn back her family’s grace and relaxed a bit more.

Jon sighed. “I’ve come to ask for dragon glass. The Great War is coming.”

Chapter 7

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#fan fic #fanfic #the queen's guard #queen’s guard #jorah mormont x original female character #jorah mormont #original female character #game of thrones #got #cw: canon typical violence #canon divergence

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themerriweathermage · 2 years

Text

What Doesn’t Kill You (Makes A Fighter)

Summary: Bren can’t so easily take Quinn and his people under his wings, knowing that if he brings them into the heart of his Estate, he will lose everyone’s trust. So he makes a plan with Lydia to build a Summit out in the mountains... Only to find himself put on an impromptu vacation.

Pairing(s): Sunny X Nix, It's Complicated (Quinn X Bren)

POV: 1st Person (Bren)

Warnings: Mention of Self-Harm, Mention of Suicidal Ideation, Canon Typical Violence (Death/Blood Mention), Mention of Chronic Pain/Illness

Co-Creator: @i-drink-and-i-write-fics

Divider Credit: firefly-graphics

“No.” Nix hadn’t even looked up from scooping out the bright pink cinnamon rolls from the pan. One of the many recipes she remembered from our old world.

“What do you mean, ‘no’? I haven’t even asked anything.”

“You came into the room, looked at me and Sunny, and hesitated. That only means one thing and my answer is no.”

“Am I that predictable?”

“Only in regards to He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named.”

“Somehow, I think Voldemort is worse,” I replied dryly.

“Debatable,” was Nix’s response. She then looked up at me. “If you let him in here, Meraxes will use him as a new chew toy.”

“Not if you tell her not to.”

“This isn’t about whether or not I can issue that command - which, spoiler alert, I won’t. This is about how she wouldn’t listen to me anyway. I am Meraxes’s top protection priority. It’s just the way she was built. But she also knows what you and Sunny mean to me, so you both are a close second with Lydia right behind. She knows from me talking, what he did to Lydia and Sunny. She saw what Quinn did to you. She could feel what I wanted to do to him. And I didn’t - not solely because of you, though I know you would have been mad at me for quite some time - but because I didn’t want the image burned in my head. But if I’m not around…”

I was quiet at her words, forgetting, in the heat of wanting to help Quinn’s people, that the issue with Meraxes was more complicated than most realized. “His people need our help.”

Nix sighed. “I don’t doubt that. But you cannot let him into the heart of our barony. Not just because I trust him as far as I can throw my mother’s grand piano. But because we will lose our people’s trust. They know what he did. They know how Lydia was treated, my almost imprisonment, Sunny having poison blades used on him, and what almost happened to you. If we let him into the estate, we will lose everyone.”

I grew quiet at her words. She was right, as much as I hated to admit it. “But-”

She sighed again and pulled me over to the table to sit with her and Sunny, who had been quietly observing this whole time. “I can offer you two solutions: take him to the Port Town to have this meeting and take Sunny and Lydia. Meraxes will be close by in case anything happens.”

“Or?”

“Or, you find or build a cabin at the borders of our baronies and have the meeting there. Again, with Sunny, Lydia, and Meraxes.”

“You’re not going to lecture me about Quinn?”

“It’s just going to go in one ear and out the other, unfortunately. And thanks to Lydia, I have to prepare for a party announcing my engagement to Sunny as well as a wedding. My neurodivergent head is already at capacity.”

I nodded my head. “Thank you.”

“You’re up late.” Lydia murmured, seeing me sitting at the desk in the office, in contemplative thought, considering each of Nix’s ideas. Neither one of them particularly suited me. Using the port town meant that I couldn’t showcase our barony, and yet pulling something together in our barony in such a short time seemed almost impossible. Even with my gift...

“Thinking.” I replied softly. There were hideouts we could use, places lesser inhabited by citizens, places used by our nomads who didn’t have an opinion on us one way or another.

“About helping Quinn?” She asked. I sighed, rubbing my temples.

“Why does everyone assume that this is about Quinn?” She gave me a telling look. “His people...”

“Need our help.” She finished. “So you want to guide him into the right path.”

“It isn’t about him.” I protested again, weaker this time. She only raised an eyebrow in my direction. “I have to try.” I admitted lowly. “I have to try, even if he throws my advice to the wind like he’s done so many times before. I have to lead by example.”

“And how goes your planning?”

“Shit.” I muttered. “It’s going like shit. If I use the port town, I can’t showcase our barony. If I use the barony lines, it’s going to take me too long to build anything. I was thinking about heading to one of the lesser used hideouts.”

“Why not use Gideon’s headquarters?” Lydia asked. “The rail runs right through it. Can’t it take us there on the way through to Rojas’ territory on its supply run?”

“The mountain valley?” It was secluded enough that only nomads attempted the run to the depot between the two mountain tunnels. Lesser inhabited, but still lush, and whatever was built for the summit could remain in place to provide better shelter instead of just using the old airplane hangar. “It would delay the trade route by a few days.”

“I’m sure Rojas wouldn’t mind too much.”

“He might, if he knows the 611 carries Quinn.” Lydia stifled a giggle.

“But it will also give you the chance to showcase to Quinn why your alliances hold strong. If he pays attention.”

“Big if.” I muttered under my breath. That time she laughed.

“You should get some sleep. I doubt having a tired mind will do you any good.” I wrinkled my nose, even though I knew she was right. But all I ever wanted to do was sleep, sleep and remember the good times gone past, sleep and try to forget what kind of toll the Badlands was taking on me.

It showed through more now than I ever wanted it to, so I tried to keep that part locked down and hidden away. I used my gift more than ever, mostly to mitigate the chronic pain but there were days when I just didn’t have the strength to keep up with that demand. And there were days when I wished that we’d been thrown anywhere else through that portal, anywhere but the Badlands.

More grey than ever was starting to color my hair. I knew part of it was just going to do that as I got older but stress more than anything caused it to happen more rapidly. The scars that I had gotten here contributed to a host of aches and pains that I hadn’t known could run so deeply. And the fact that I’d come through the portal, well, me, but with almost everything that had made me me certainly didn’t help the situation.

“I know what you’re doing.” Lydia’s voice cut through my thoughts.

“It is not fair that you can see right through me.” I murmured.

“You don’t have to hide yourself away.”

“If I don’t, I can’t be the baron my people need. I can’t be anyone with that kind of pain. I’ve lived through it enough; it’s debilitating.” I replied, leaning on my hand. “The gift mitigates that, some of it anyway.”

“Enough to get by?” Lydia asked.

“Ha!” I barked out a dry laugh. It would have been easier if Quinn had actually put his money where his mouth was and just fucking ended it, but we couldn’t do things the easy way, could we? I frowned at the intrusive thought; that brought back far too many memories and none of them good. “I need a drink. A strong one.”

“Whiskey?”

“Vodka.” I muttered. “Straight.” It couldn’t have been a minute later before there was a shot sitting on my paperwork and I downed it, grimacing at the taste. But it did what I needed it to do, distracted me from my current thoughts and grounded me to the present.

“I’ll never understand why you drink it if you don’t like it.”

“Because it keeps me here, keeps me grounded, keeps me from thinking about things that shouldn’t be thought about.” I replied. “And you’re right; I should probably get some rest.” I stood, aiming to head out when her touch on my shoulder stopped me.

“Don’t...” She paused for a moment, “Don’t do anything drastic, Bren.”

“I won’t.” I promised quietly. At this point, it was probably just better that I got some sleep, retreating into my quarters.

Morning came too early, as it always did. I made myself scarce from the Estate, holing up in Club Euphorbia where the lights were dim, setting some music to play. In the wake of Dominique’s exit, the club had gone dark, with no one to mitigate between my responsibilities and the costs of running it. I sprawled out my supplies in my lounge, setting to work, seemingly undisturbed for most of the day.

“So this is the great Club Euphorbia.” There was a knock on the door and I looked up, seeing Lydia in the doorway. “Quieter than I expected.”

“Dom managed it on the side. With him gone...” I let the sentence trail. “I suppose I ruffled some feathers by leaving early this morning?” I turned my attention back to my paperwork.

“You’re the baron. You can go where you like.” She replied. “Sebastian told me you were here.” I furrowed my brow. I had never quite gotten used to having a Clipper insist on being at my side quite like ours did, but that name was familiar, and not one of our own. “Quinn usually had him assigned as my personal guard. He wasn’t at liberty to be transferred with me when Quinn gave me away, but he left after the fiasco at the poppy fields. He comes and goes with the nomads.” Lydia approached, almost cautiously. But I’d be cautious too; I’d let my guard down here, gotten comfortable.

She made her way over to my lounge, peering over the edge and into my paperwork and distracted drawings. “Any more luck on your planning?”

“I thought about what you said about using Gideon’s headquarters and decided to see what I could do about creating a town in the mountain valley. The nomads already have a trading post in the old airplane hangar. They could... settle there if they wanted.”

“Projected cost?”

“Labor and supplies shouldn’t be difficult to come by. We’ll see about enlisting the nomads there already. If everybody pitches in, the project shouldn’t take too long.”

“Lodging, permanent vendors, what else are you talking?”

“Probably an infirmary and let’s see about getting an actual depot set up for the rail.”

“I can do that.” Lydia murmured, taking a seat on the edge of the couch. “I just... I don’t want you doing this alone, Bren.” I met eyes with her for a moment before glancing away. I wasn’t drunk enough-- or sober enough for that matter-- for this conversation.

“Because of Quinn?” I’ll admit that my tone was... not so nice.

“Because you work too much. Sure, you’ve thrown yourself back into the barony, into keeping your promises and your oaths, but Bren, what part of throwing yourself back into the barony has been about taking care of yourself? You won’t give me a moment edgewise to slide something into your schedule to let you relax.”

“The needs of many outweigh the needs of one.” I replied. “My needs can wait.”

“Until what? Until you work yourself into a grave?” I shrugged.

“Why not? Quinn already took the measurements for it.” Lydia blinked, slowly giving me a measured, almost prising look.

“Do you... wish that he had?”

“It’s just an expression.” I mumbled quietly, crossing my arm over my chest, uncomfortable with where the topic was heading, already treading into dangerous territory, much like last night had been.

“Bren--”

“It’s complicated.”

“Okay.” She started softly. “We don’t have to talk about it. Did you want me to get started on your plans for the summit?”

“It can wait until tomorrow.” I knew my answer was clipped, knew that my thoughts were going somewhere they shouldn’t be. I heaved a sigh, scowling. Why here, and why now of all times? Why when there was work to be done?

“Do you want me to stay?” I looked away from her. “I can go, Bren, if you need some time alone.”

“No.” I tried to keep my voice level. “Don’t go. Not like this. Not when I’m like this.” Not when I can’t trust myself to be alone.

“Do you... need a drink?” I blanched. Last night had been about the drink to ground me back. If I started drinking now, I would never want to stop. Lydia touched my shoulder lightly. Life was so different here in the Badlands, and as a baron particularly, when every move was watched and scrutinized. Her touch was comforting. “I worry for you, Bren.”

“The storm will pass. It always does.” I whispered.

“You shouldn’t have to weather it alone.” She murmured.

“Maybe.” I compiled my papers into a folder, setting it aside. “Did you come alone?” She nodded. “Let’s head out to Rojas’ territory, let him know why the supply run will be late. After that, you can start delegating the work when we return, as you see fit.”

It turns out that Lydia’s idea of delegating the work was to completely absolve me of any of it, by means of planting me in Minerva’s barony, complete with Waldo to distract me.

“Um...” I turned to Lydia but she was already leaving, a packed bag at my feet.

“Apparently you work too much.” Minerva commented. “Welcome back to the Lodge, Bren.”

“I... thank you for hosting me, apparently.” I replied, picking up my bags. “So this is what I get when I tell her to delegate. How uh.... How long am I staying?”

“Until Gideon’s gets built.” Waldo rolled up then.

“I see I’m being conspired against.” I teased. He gave me a smile.

“Or until you decide that helping my barony isn’t worth it.”

“It has at least one good man. That’s enough to fight for.” I murmured. Waldo chuckled.

“Stubborn.” He muttered under his breath. I only shook my head at him, pretending not to hear. He followed me inside as Minerva took the lead, giving me a tour. It had been awhile since I’d been and coming here brought back memories.

“You are very far away.” I gave Minerva a small smile.

“Thinking about the first time we came here.”

“About whether you would have been a baron if you’d stayed?”

“As simple as our lives were back then, we were only focused on survival. Our futures were so uncertain then.” I murmured. I had no doubt that Minerva and I were thinking about the same thing, but perhaps in a different light. She continued the tour without continuing the conversation, letting it go, showing me the gardens and the libraries. It probably wasn’t chance that we found Gaius in there, shelving books with a few of her other staff.

“She’s putting you to work I see.” Gaius looked up.

“Well... most Cogs don’t know how to read so it helps to have someone who can dictate placement.”

“A man of your talents shelving books.” I shared a look with Gaius for a moment, and he also noticed that we had been left alone. “If I didn’t know better...”

“I’d say my baron is playing matchmaker.” Gaius replied. “It’s good to see you, Baron.” I gave him a weak smile.

“Any chance I can get you to call me Bren?”

“No title, huh?” He asked, folding a stack of books under his arm.

“There’s a time and place for titles and it isn’t here or now. Unless you really fancy me calling you Lord Chau?” Gaius choked, nearly dropping his pile of books. I stifled a chuckle, hand out to steady him. “Why don’t I help you put these away... Lord Chau?”

“You enjoy flustering people, don’t you?” Gaius asked, handing me half the books and turning away to face the shelf. But even I could see how pink his cheeks were in the dimness of the room.

“I know how to use certain titles to elicit reactions, if that’s the answer you’re seeking. Not everybody reacts the same way. Sometimes it’s just a sign of respect or politeness,”

“And other times?”

“Some people react with hunger. Or embarrassment.”

“Are you embarrassed of your title, Baron Bren?”

“I don’t see the need for a title until my rank is questioned, until my position at the head of my barony is questioned, or until my people are threatened. And even then I will not be a baron.”

“What will you be?” Gaius spared me a curious look.

“A Dragon-Lord.” I replied, shelving the book, fingers lingering on the faded gold embossed lettering. We worked quickly together, quietly finishing up the day’s work. “Have you ever read any of these books?”

“Some, but not most of them. Mother insisted we be trained in the classics. Free reading wasn’t encouraged.”

“Free thinking wasn’t encouraged.” Gaius shrugged slightly.

“They say there is no easy way to be a baron, and my family has always expected their barons to be the best. If you take your feelings out of the equation, supposedly it’s easy. But I could never find taking my feelings out of the equation to be that easy. The others make it look easy... but you can never take things at face-value in the Badlands.”

The vacation was... nice. It was kind of Lydia to think about me and disheartening that she knew me as well as she did, that I was so easy to read to her.

“I know that look.” Waldo murmured, joining me in the gardens. “Not enjoying your time off?”

“I should be out there helping.”

“You need this. Time away from your barony and all. Everybody does. Not everybody gets it.”

“Yeah.” I looked to the ground. “I’m hearing that you think I should be thankful for something I didn’t have a choice in.”

“Nix has the barony. Let Lydia take care of Gideon’s.”

“It feels... wrong.” I murmured, taking a seat on the stone edge of a fountain, admiring the flowers and the fountains and feeling it go right through me like a soulless joy.”

“Everything you ever wanted doesn’t taste like honey anymore?” Waldo asked. I glanced at him, keeping my gaze lowered, meeting his eyes like a petulant child. “You’re gonna tell that all you ever wanted was Quinn, aren’t you?”

“It’s... good to be in the kind of position that allows me to change the way things run in the Badlands,”

“But?” Waldo prompted.

“Well,” I sighed, “I think you know the rest as well as I do.”

“You and Gaius seem to be getting along well enough together.” Waldo offered. “You work well as a team.”

“Don’t think I don’t know what you and Minerva are doing. And don’t think he doesn’t know either.”

“So what do you think about him?” I sighed, deciding to humor Waldo for once.

“He’s very pretty.” Waldo snorted.

“Prettiness aside...”

“Come on, Waldo.” I pushed myself to my feet. “If I tell you the right words, will it make you stop asking? He’s nice. He’d be a good baron, and a good partner for anyone.” I replied flatly. Waldo heaved a sigh from behind me.

“I wish you’d never come to the Badlands.”

“Sometimes I wish that too.” I murmured, watching the sun setting on the horizon. “Sometimes I wish we could have gone anywhere but here. Anywhere would hurt less.” It was still hard to be vulnerable, and Waldo had seen a lot of it. “Being anyone else would hurt less.” I could feel my voice breaking in my chest. “If I could turn off, what makes me--”

“You, you’d be miserable.”

“I’m miserable now, Waldo!” I turned to face him, lips trembling, tears brimming my eyes. “The man I love tried to kill me, I’m being benched in my own barony, and most days I can’t even keep up with the magic that makes life easier. I just want to unapologetically be me, but unapologetically be me and it not hurt for once. It never stops hurting!” By now, I’d curled into a ball, hugging my knees to my chest. It was a scream on my lips, wordless and soundless, just an empty keen that made my whole back hurt with the sheer force. The tears were silent, tracking down my face even though I’d tried to keep them at bay.

This ran deeper than Quinn, Waldo realized, and explained Lydia’s worry. “What can I do to help?” “Tch.” I knew his offer was genuine but he wouldn’t have liked my answer. I didn’t even like my answer, and I knew it was born from hurt and sarcasm and morbid humor. I just hugged myself tighter.

“They worry because they love you, Bren. You’re not being benched; you’re hurting. You need time to recover. They just want to make sure you don’t push yourself too far before you’re ready. Which... you’re doing, if you don’t even have the energy to keep up with your own magic.”

Glad someone around here knew how to keep their own head about them. And I hated that he made sense. But there was a reason he was here, and a reason I had gone to him in moments of distress like this. Because one of us needed to keep some rationality, and I knew he could see the things I couldn’t, things that my brain wouldn’t let me see. I let out another wretched sigh, my breath ragged.

What if I run away to Mars?

Would you find me in the stars?

Would you miss me in the end?

If I run out of oxygen?

When I run away to Mars.

And Waldo knows the song isn’t for him. That it’s borne of heartbreak and anger and loneliness and pain, and it’s so unexpressed and bitter. He can hear the sadness.

“Kid...” It was silent for the longest time and then his hand landed on my shoulder, squeezing tightly. And like Waldo had always done for me, he sat and listened. He was there. At this point I didn’t want words or reassurance; I just needed to know he was there.

Gods only knew how much I wished that my own brain wouldn’t work against me. It felt like wallowing in my own misery, and wanting to help, and trying to help, but nothing would come out the way I wanted it to. Or just losing another part of myself to the way of the Badlands.

It was quiet for the longest time, Waldo and I sitting in contemplative silence. Oh Waldo knew he was out of his depth. Quinn he could handle, and any issues with Quinn he could handle. But people like Bren didn’t exist in the Badlands. Gaius was probably the closest thing and even he was a battle hardened warrior.

“I want you to do something for me.” Waldo’s voice broke me out of my reverie. I looked up from nursing his touch on my shoulder. “I want you to start training again.”

“Waldo, I’m not a fighter.” I started.

“Don’t bullshit me.” Waldo teased, his expression turning serious. “You’ve endured it, survived it, seen the shitty side of the Badlands. Fight it. Fight for something better.”

“So when do we start training?” Waldo chuckled.

“Find someone who fights like you do, and ask them to train you. Cause we both know it ain’t me.”

“Heh.” I chuckled at that. I knew his meaning well enough. He wasn’t asking me to train with him because his style was different from mine; he was asking me to find someone who fought for the same things I did. Someone that wasn’t him. Someone that wasn’t Nix. Someone born and raised in the Badlands. “Thanks for staying. And for listening.”

I hadn’t picked up my blades in a long time. Not since the incident out in the wilds. There was no reason to. So when Waldo dropped them off at the Lodge, I spent a long time staring at them. I didn’t remember bringing them both home which meant the other one had to have been recovered in the field. In fact, I still didn’t remember much about coming home at all.

They were Minerva’s, or rather a gift from the Butterfly Territory to help us survive out in the wilds. Since we hadn’t stayed with her-- since I’d gone chasing a dream-- she felt it better for us to be equipped to survive the Armadillo Territory. The butterfly design started the dagger, and then split into two separate blades that could be taken apart and wielded separately. But they were in a state of disrepair, and needed to be cleaned and polished as much as any tool.

So I spent one of my afternoons re-wrapping the leather hilts and polishing the blades, running them over a whetstone until they were sharp again.

“You kept them.” Minerva had found me, tucked away in her butterflies’ barracks. I took in a deep breath.

“I did.”

The image of blood spattering on a concrete ground flashed through my mind. I didn’t remember killing Zephyr like I remembered killing Ryder.

“They saved my life.”

He was hardly innocent, though he’d been unarmed, and I could have left him there.

She noticed the measured look. “You never really forget the first life you take.”

“I don’t remember Zephyr.” I replied. “But I’ll never forget the way Ryder died.”

The way his back arched and his twisted cry of pain when his head hit the ground as I’d swept his leg and shoved him to the ground in an adrenaline fueled escape.

“It was no secret that he hated you. Would have killed you if he’d had the chance.”

The way his nails had clawed into me as we both locked into the mode of life or death, my hand at his throat, thumb gripping into his jugular.

I should have left him there. I should have left it at that. But I hadn’t. I had ensured that he wouldn’t pursue me. That he wouldn’t ever come after me again.

The dagger I sharpened now was the very same one that I plunged through his skull. Death had been almost instantaneous. He’d barely had the time to cry out, let alone feel it.

That didn’t make it any less worse.

I could still hear the back of his hand hitting the ground when he ceased to struggle. I could still see the way the blood dripped off the blade. And then the next thing I remembered was being pursued.

“In another universe, perhaps we could have been friends.” I murmured lowly, cleaning the grit off the blade to examine it.

“Those wishes are wasted on the Badlands, Bren.”

“He was unarmed.”

“It didn’t make him any less dangerous. Being unarmed doesn’t make you or me any less dangerous.”

“Waldo wants me to start training again.”

“Oh? Is that why you’re in here, sharpening your blades?” Minerva asked. I didn’t meet her eyes.

“I want you to teach me how to fight.”

“Me?” Minerva couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice. “Anyone in the Badlands and you pick me? Bren, I...”

“You and I, we fight for the same goal. We might come from different backgrounds, but we’re not that different. We both want a better Badlands. We’re not fighting for us; we’re fighting for the people who can’t fight for themselves. We’re fighting for...”

“A better future.” Minerva finished. She paused for a moment, seeming to think it over. “I accept.”

#Welcome to the Badlands Series #Welcome to the Badlands #Sunny X OFC #Quinn X OMC #Into the Badlands Fanfic #cw: canon typical violence #cw: blood mention #cw: death mention #cw: self-harm mention #cw: suicidal ideation mention #cw: chronic pain/illness

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