#like I suppose all of them can float so it’s kind of moot to discuss height but

[otaku553]

Finally did Susie! That finishes up the three of them :) I’ll see if I can tackle marx, ribbon, and adeleine next :)

#kirby #kirby gijinka #susie #susanna patrya haltmann #magolor #taranza #I love the height gradient between them in canon lmao;;; #like I suppose all of them can float so it’s kind of moot to discuss height but #Susie do be tall

[realactualfancontent]

Scenes from that novel I’ve been working on!

Yes, I have been working on this.  In disjointed chunks.  But, I’ve been working on it.

So ya’ll can have some out of context scenes from my Invisible Man romance novel!

“Oh, we’re here.” She seemed as startled as he was when the walk, and conversation came to an abrupt halt.

Griffin followed her gaze to the small cottage half shrouded by trees, and frowned under the bandages.

“So we are.” Griffin agreed, not sure what else to say, only trying not to sound disappointed by the fact. The conversation leading up to this had been a heated one. Aster was absolutely insistent on the whole giant octopus thing, which was of course, unlikely. Beyond unlikely. But he’d been enjoying the debate, the distraction from more pressing matters back at the inn.

“You could come in if you want. Have some tea?” She said, starting towards her doorstep, only to pause and wait for him.

Evidently she’d been enjoying herself too. The invitation came as a shock. It shouldn’t have. After all she was about the only person in this miserable little village who didn’t flee at the sight of him. More often than not she seemed to actively seek him out.

He’d just never really considered that before, that she might actually be enjoying these walks. Griffin’s face felt even hotter than usual under the bandages, and he was, just for the moment, very glad to have them.

“I can’t,” he answered, a knee-jerk reaction, he regretted it immediately watching Aster’s face fall in disappointment.

“I’d like to, but,” He gestured vaguely to his swathed face. “Tea’s not really an option.”

“Oh, right, forgot that, sorry.” She offered a half mumbled apology. Her frown was still there, only for an instant more before she brightened.

“Some other time then. When you get those off. We can make it a celebration.” She said, flashing a quick grin as she did so.

Griffin returned it hesitantly. “Yes. That would be...excellent. Really!” It was a foolish thing to agree to, and so earnestly at that. But perhaps the added incentive would help speed along his work.

Aster positively beamed when he agreed. “It’s a date then.” She said, taking the last steps to her doorway and disappearing inside before he could protest terminology, tossing off a quick see you tomorrow as she did so.

Griffin turned around and headed back towards The Coach and Horses, returning in what Mr. Hall would later note seemed to be suspiciously high spirits.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The month of May had been an unremarkable one in Iping in as a whole. And for Aster it had been an awkward one, shaded by a quiet melancholy and frustration, as the mystery of the bundled up stranger had been replaced by the more immediate mystery of what, exactly she’d done to upset him.

She’d apologized of course. Not an easy feat when you can’t tell what particular nerve you’ve struck. But she was a big enough person to do that much. Still his absence on her evening walks persisted. And when they did cross paths at The Coach and Horses he was notably terse.

Well fuck Griffin then. His loss really, after all, he didn’t have anyone else to talk to. Whereas Aster at least had Lily and the crows.

She was in the middle of feeding them actually, enjoying Whit Monday in a manner most would count as decidedly unchristian, and not thinking about Griffin. When the birds grew agitated and with the kind of din only a dozen startled birds could muster departed.

Aster had flinched visibly and covered her ears, initially, relaxing when the small murder had receded to a taller tree and staring up at them perplexed.

“What’s wrong?”

Incomprehensible crow noises.

“Very elucidating.”

A quiet cough pulled her attention from the one sided conversation, she whirled to try to find the source finding her yard empty.

“I suspect I upset them.”

She recognized the voice immediately, although the source-

“Griffin?” It was definitely him, she was after all very familiar with that gravelly voice by now, although she’d never heard it quite so tentative, apologetic even? A girl could hope.

“Where are you?”

“I’m right here,” He sounded vaguely exasperated now, if she wasn’t imagining this whole interlude she had probably been imagining the tone before. “About four feet in front of you.”

Aster squinted took a few steps forward, and paused, realization dawning on her.

“As you can see, or, can’t, I suppose... You were right.”

“You’re invisible? Actually invisib- Wait, what’s that.” Aster extended an arm to point at a transparent glob of something floating at roughly stomach level, and was halted, invisible fingers curling around her wrist tightly.

Aster’s heart fluttered at the unexpected contact, whatever else she might have had to say catching in her throat. Tentatively Aster used her disengaged fingers to feel the invisible hand and continue to explore a firm, goose pimpled arm, and pat a muscular chest. Starting as she realized how close they now were, and that Griffin wasn’t wearing a shirt.

“Yes. Actually invisible. And that, would be the remains of my breakfast. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go pawing at me” Griffin snapped, pulling his arm away from her, indentations in the grass indicating he took some hasty steps backwards.

“Oh.” Aster managed, suddenly breathless.

“Oh?” He scoffed. “Is that all?”

She bit her lower lip, staring at the disturbance in the grass that demarcated his feet. “Are- Why aren’t you dressed?” Her tone was tremulous of some emotion she could place.

“Because my clothing isn’t invisible.”

“Oh.”

“I hardly think this is the most pressing thing to focus on.” Griffin groused.

“Now that it has been brought to my attention I won’t be able to focus on much else.”

Griffin sighed, she could imagine him tensing his shoulders before hissing out a breath. “Yes. It’s very inconvenient for all involved parties. But there are more important things we have to discuss. I’ve-”

“You’re probably cold, do you want to come inside?”

Being cut off was infuriating in ways he could hardly articulate. Griffin stifled an urge to scream and instead nodded. Remembered the gesture was futile, and spoke.

“Yes.”

Aster felt something brush past her lightly and watched transfixed as the door to her home opened itself and remained ajar waiting for her to follow.

Aster directed him to the kitchen, and put a kettle on.

“You can put down a throw pillow if you want to sit. Can’t imagine the chairs are too comfortable.”

Aster was treated to some vague noise of agreement and the sight of one of her couch pillows drifting to the kitchen table and then being crushed by an unseen weight.

She joined him with a tea tray and two glasses.

“You don’t want to watch me drink.”

“Why not.”

“Because food and drink are visible inside me as it digests.”

Aster nodded. “Makes sense.” There was a pause for her to add sugar to her tea. “Though, I do want to see that. It sounds fascinating?”

“Later then, I’m sure you’ll have the chance. Right now, for the work we need to do I can’t afford to be seen.”

“Work?” Aster looked up at him from the cream she was pouring, quirking a brow as an invitation to elaborate.

“Yes. That’s why I’ve come to you. What I was trying to say outside- although this is better really, a conversation that should be had without risk of interlopers- what I was trying to say outside is that I’ve come to realize I need help.”

Griffin sighed, taking the steaming mug she had prepared for him. In the rising vapour she could make out hints of a face staring pensively into the dark liquid.

“It’s not half as marvellous as it seems.”

“Marvel enough for me.” Aster sipped her tea and waited for Griffin to elaborate.

“I’m glad you’ve taken this calmly. I couldn’t stomach any more hysterics today. I should have- I’ve made a mess of things at the inn. Mrs. Hall was going to evict me!”

“You haven’t paid rent in a month.” Aster was rarely one to take her employer’s side. But technically the woman was well within her rights.

“I was awaiting a remittance.” He grumbled, toying with the mug making it slide around the table in strange motions. “Moreover I’d paid her this morning!”

“It’s a moot point now,” Griffin took a sip of his tea, apparently deciding that whatever it was he needed help with could wait until his digestive track did it’s work.

Aster watched with fascination as he swallowed. It was, admittedly, a bit grotesque when one thought about it. And she imagined watching him eat anything more solid would be far more unpleasant, but still, fascinating.

They drank in silence for a moment, Griffin seemed on the verge of saying something, but was still trying to put it clearly.

Eventually, when Aster had watched enough to satisfy her curiosity she spoke up again.

“What exactly happened at the inn?”

Griffin let out another agitated sigh before he explained. Summarizing briefly his face off with The Halls, attempted arrest and the dramatic reveal of his secret.

Aster listened attentively, interrupting only once to laugh, saying that she would have paid good money to see the look on Mrs. Hall’s face when he handed her his fake nose.

Griffin had admitted it was rather funny. At least until she started in with the shrieking.

By the end of the tale he was pacing the floor from the motion of the tea that had yet to absorb into his system.

“And those fools down there still have my books! All my work in the hands of buffoons!” Fists slammed the table with violent force.

Aster winced at the outburst, and the string of cursing that followed.

“You have to help me get them back.” His chair pulled itself out and presumably he sat. “You will-” There was a desperate edge to his words. One absent from his next order. “You must.”

She was a willing enough accomplice in theory. Watching, or listening to Griffin explain his plight had her won over to his side entirely, but she was contrarian by nature, and couldn't let him think she'd be forced into anything.  No matter distressed he might sound.

“And if I don’t?”

The silence was like she’d struck him.

“If you don’t-” he spoke carefully when he did, as if he hadn’t considered this option. “If- Aster you’re the only one who can. Don’t you understand. I’ve chosen you for this. You’re the only one who understands, who I can trust!” His words were shaky, he rose again to continue pacing.

“I should have revealed myself when you guess. I know I’ve not been- I was- I didn’t know how you would react- You are wasted on this town!”

He ended his disjointed speech abruptly and Aster could feel eyes boring into her, and she flushed at the intensity in his compliment. Too stunned to come up with a response before Griffin could start again.

“And you know it! You’re clear-headed, and clever! While those imbeciles floundered with their inane gossip you had me figured out. I know you can see what invisibility can mean. He moved toward her taking her hands in his and pulling her to her feet. “The power I hold. The things I- we could do. But I must have a confederate. Someone to help with all the trivial inconveniences. Please Aster. Help me, and I will do great things for you.”

They were close now, close enough that Aster could feel the heat of his breath on her face.

“Yeah.” she said quietly, exhaling a shaky breath, not sure wholly what she was agreeing to, only that she couldn’t imagine saying no.

“Yes!” Her second affirmation banished any hesitation and her eyes shone with excitement.

“Absolutely. What’s the plan!”

#Fanfic #Aster's Mod #The Invisible Man #I BET YOU ALL THOUGHT I FORGOT THIS #I CAN NOT WRITE ROMANCE AND YET #Grifter #aster atwood #Griffin

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 68

One chapter, beta’d by both @satan-parisienne and @baelpenrose, so there should be a minimum of errors floating around in there.

As some have noticed, I did update the Master List over the weekend.  A few other things I just want to touch on:

Ask box is literally always open, as is my inbox.  Feel free to drop questions, comments, whatever in there.  I love interacting with people, so it makes my day to see y’all reach out to me.

Also, I recently crossed the threshold for 500 followers.  It’s crazy, and I’m just gobsmacked that you all follow me.  I won’t be doing a character contest this time, but keep your peepers peeled for what I am doing instead...

Now, on with our chapter!

“To confirm Councilor Reid’s statement, the bacteria that was, until recently, potentially killing us, is instead killing itself?”

“Correct, Eino.”

“And this is a bad thing because it is sentient?”

“Partially why it is bad, yes.”

“Xiomara, if I may?” I couldn’t see them, but I could practically hear Grey lean forward and push their glasses further up the bridge of their nose. Just the tone of voice told me that this Grey was well-rested and firing on all cylinders.

Xiomara nodded, then dropped her head back to suppress a groan when she realized the rest of the Council couldn’t actually see her. “Please go ahead, Grey.  You are probably better to explain this than I am.”

“Thank you.” A brief pause. “While I do confess that I argued stringently against the decision that Else is sentient, in the end, even I was satisfied with the decision.  However, Terran studies of neural matrices do show that there is a threshold of connections, below which sentience does not exist except as a potential.  It stands to reason that, for a hive minded species such as Else or even the Hujylsogox, loss of too many members would create a similar loss of sentience.”

Noah’s voice hummed in confirmation. “This is correct. Even if I were to lose too many of my avatars, and later come in proximity to others of my kind, I would no longer be myself but instead be absorbed into the sentient member, and they would gain any information I had learned.”

I felt my face contort into a horrified expression. “Noah, does that happen?”

“Only in very dire circumstances, Wisdom.  It is considered a capital crime do so against a cluster’s will, and the height of rudeness to begin to do so accidentally.”

“Question: if a species can lose sentience due to low population, can it actually be considered sentient?” Eino’s tone was carefully inquisitive rather than argumentative.

“The problem cannot be framed in that way and make logical sense,” Grey advised, not unkindly.  “According to the Galactic research database, each member of a hive-minded species serves as a neural connection for one single, larger mind.  Just because the individual loses neural awareness or function, the species does not; believing so would be comparative to stating we are not sentient as a species simply because sufficient neural damage can render one of us brain-dead.”

“Thank you for the clarification,” he breathed, seemingly in relief.

Grey continued. “In this case, however, there are no others of Else’s species. It is such a young race, that despite so many bodies, it only has one mind for now.   Should too many bodies die off from starvation out of Else’s attempt to do no further harm, sentience will be lost.  At that point, there is a reasonable amount of certainty that it will begin to eat freely again, and become sentient again.”

“And there is no guarantee that the new version of Else will like us as much as the current version.  We can’t take that chance,” Xiomara finished.  “What if we end up with a homicidal bacterium instead of an apologetic one.”

The entire channel fell silent at the weight of her words.  I couldn’t blame anyone – it was a lot to process.  Hell, I was the one who brought the topic to her attention, and even I felt the need to vomit when she said it.  It was too much to really contemplate for long.

“So, what are we supposed to do? Feed it?” The words may have sounded sarcastic coming from a different person, but I knew Pranav was considering this a genuine option.  In the time I had known him, he had always worked with the facts, regardless of what anyone hoped to dreamt.

Looked like it was my turn.  “We actually have a few options that Else mentioned on their own, when they were trying to convince me not to have them eradicated.”

After a brief pause, Giang Huynh spoke up. “Please elaborate, Sophia.”  Not only the illness, but the destruction or degradation of several structures had led to his department being the one most effected by Else.  Instead of his normal belligerence, he just sounded resigned.

Taking a deep breath, I laid out what Else and I discussed. “The first, probably easiest option, is to isolate all of Else and deposit the entire culture into the first nebula we reach.”

“Nebulas are very rich in iron,” Eino pointed out. “But does it need oxygen?”

“Else is largely anaerobic,” Grey responded. “Due to its diet of iron, open air is almost immediately fatal to it.  This explains why it has been predominantly found in bone marrow and the spleen, as that is where the highest amount of iron can be found in the human body, before the blood is oxygenated.”

“Are there any downsides to this option?” Simon asked.  Since I was technically still on medical leave, he was acting in my stead. The only reason I was allowed on this conference was as a witness, not a Councillor.

“Else doesn’t like it,” I admitted. “Because, and I quote, ‘there are no humans in a nebula’.”

“Miys, does Else have a say in this?” Eino asked, curious.

“As a sentient species, yes, they must agree to the relocation unless their current environment is untenable without drastic intervention.  Technically, their current environment is viable for the foreseeable future.”

“Wait – what?” Simon sputtered.  “We only recently stopped needing constant transfusions.”

“Not all of the ship needed them on a constant basis,” Grey pointed out.  “And some who were impacted did not need them at all until very near the end of the crisis.”

She means others like Tyche, I realized. “Okay, so that’s an option, but only if we lack any others and can talk Else into it,” I forged ahead. “Which means any discussion of whether or not Else needs to be forcibly relocated is moot, because they did bring up other options.” I paused for response, and continued when there was none. “The second option was dropping them off on a barren, iron-rich planet with a late-sequence star.”

“How is that any different?” Huynh sputtered in confusion.

I watched Xiomara’s eyes get wide. “Tactics,” she breathed before repeating it, louder. “It’s a tactical preference. An iron-rich world, especially a barren one, is more likely to be mined, isn’t it?”

“Mining such planets requires significantly less effort and resources than are needed to mine a nebula,” Noah confirmed.

“And mining gives them the chance to be picked up by a new species,” Xiomara dropped like a bomb, triggering a rush of muttering.

“We should only base the value of an option on whether or not it will be a detriment to Else if it is certain to prevent the detriment, regardless of the impact to us.” I was initially surprised to hear such a venomous tone from Huynh, before considering his home nation’s history. Okay, he has every reason to be adamant here.  After all, his country had suffered horribly at the hands of mine, not even a century prior. “Are there any other options?”

“Put them in stasis and bring them with us,” I confessed. “But, I also pointed this out to Else: And then what? It’s still a finite resource situation, in the long run.  Not to mention the fact that we are working toward having the least possible impact to the new world – doesn’t bringing a sentient plague with us completely defeat the purpose?”

“We are already studying the impact our own gut bacteria will have on Kepler 442b,” Grey added. “And while we have no plans for large-scale mining of natural resources, the planet and its star already have poor metallicity.”

“I feel like those options really cover everything that is actually available to us,” Xiomara confessed.

“Agreed,” Pranav chimed in. “There is an option that Else does not like, but provides greatest opportunity for it to thrive.  There is an option it likes, which also provides the chance for a species that shows every indication of being quite social to potentially interact with others.  And there is an option that is really only a stopgap measure.”

“Ultimately, Else has to agree to whatever measure is to be taken,” Noah pointed out, attempting to be helpful.

“Else wants to stay with us,” I rebutted. “So much so that it is about to lobotomize itself in the attempt.  We have to convince it to take an option that is better for its survival.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I realized what I was saying.  I didn’t even attempt to suppress the groan of regret that erupted.

“If you are done impersonating a cow,” Xiomara grinned wryly, “Yes, that means we need to negotiate with Else.”

“You mean I need to,” I grumbled.

Grey gave me a sliver of vain hope. “We are attempting to locate another individual who has been able to get in touch with it, Sophia.  While their method of conveying it was quite crude, Mr. MacMaoilir and Mr. Okima did have a valid concern regarding how taxing it is for your body when you are speaking with Else.”

“Any luck?”

“Not as of yet, no.” Damn it. Even Grey sounded unhappy with the fact.

“So, unless something drastic changes, the plan is for me to try to talk Else into agreeing to either relocating to a nebula or a barren planet, either way, no people.  Does that about sum it up?” Confirmations came from everyone. “Wonderful. And if anyone comes up with any other options, please make sure we know ahead of time. Even a brief conversation is going to be ten hours, if the last one is anything to go by.”

“About that,” Eino ventured hesitantly. “The case study for your previous interview with Else indicates that you recited scientific papers to provide a lexicon. Is this true?”

“I wish it wasn’t, but yes, it’s true.”

His tone almost immediately perked up. “Since you know going in what you will be discussing, would it be more beneficial if we instead played a targeted lexicon for you to recite?  It may minimize the time you spend reciting unnecessary or repetitive words.” When I didn’t immediately respond, he clarified.  “I understand that your previous interaction involved many open-ended questions, and therefore you needed as many words as conceivably necessary for an intelligible response, but this time, the questions are close-ended, are they not?”

“The questions are at least more close-ended, yes,” I admitted, realizing what he was getting at.

“Council, I would like to offer my department to support this situation by preparing a targeted lexicon for the upcoming negotiations with Else. Should another person be found to enter into negotiations, we will also create a script for the questions themselves, which should provide enough language for Else to respond coherently with their answers.”

I shrugged and nodded at Xiomara.  Even if I was going to be the person doing this, a targeted lexicon would be easier – and less time consuming – to recite than scientific papers.

She nodded firmly before replying, “That is a value add, definitely. Council vote?”

Unsurprisingly, the decision was unanimous.  “Any idea how long it will take to get everything ready?” I asked, admittedly impatient. “We don’t know how long we have until Else reaches that threshold Grey mentioned.”

Eino hummed for a moment. “Tentatively? Five days.  Conservatively, I would put it at a week.”

Pinching my nose before swiping an entire down my entire face, I made some quick estimates. “I don’t think Else has that long, I’ll be honest.  Grey, do you have any idea how fast it is reducing itself?  Or better yet, how long before it reaches a critical density?”

“As to the second inquiry, there has been no study to even begin estimations, but I will task a group of researchers with finding an answer. However, we do have hard data in regard to the first question: Since you last spoke with Else, seventeen percent of its population has died off.  It has also ceased replication of itself.  By current estimates, we have less than thirteen days before Else is entirely extinct.”

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#the miys #science fiction #humans are weird #aliens #original fiction #humans are space orcs #plague #apocalypse #sci fi

[shadowphoenixrider]

Matters of the Heart

(This took...way too long. And is very long, at around 7,000 words! It took a while to get them talking, and they wouldn’t shut up. This is a continuation of Heart of the Matter, where Draggka, Khadgar and Varian sit down to have a chat about Draggka and Khadgar’s relationship. This is running in the A Prayer You Can Borrow universe by @galleywinter, which is why Varian is still kicking.)

(As usual, here are the mentions of the people who like to read my stuff! Hopefully Tumblr actually sends notifications to them: @walkingdisasterofamage, @sigurdjarlson, @fer8girl, @elfgirl931 and @wingslovesfiction )

“I can’t believe dat I be doing dis.” Draggka said, running a hand through her hair. Spike made a sympathetic rumble, his head resting across her lap.

“I confess, I didn’t think this would happen so soon.” Khadgar replied, fidgeting with a small yellow crystal. He sighed. “I’m sorry, Draggka. If I’d not lost my temper in front of Varian-”

“It be okay, Khadgar.” She interrupted him, waving a hand. “What’s done be done.”

She petted her raptor’s head to soothe her nerves, listening to his soft rumble vibrate in his throat. Of all the conflicts she’d been in, of all the people and creatures she’d faced down, the thought of meeting Varian Wrynn was currently the most frightening. The troll glanced back to the archmage, sitting across from her.

“You, ya be staying wit me, right?”

“Yes, of course.” Khadgar flicked the crystal away, taking her hands and squeezing them gently between his own. “I’ll make sure nothing bad will happen to you. Not that Varian would harm you, but your comfort is paramount. I will be right here. As will Spike.” He nodded to her companion, who blinked up at her and uttered an affirmative grunt.

“Ya make it sound like dere might be a chance of a fight.” Draggka said, trying to keep calm and not look towards where she’d put Thas’dorah aside. Khadgar shook his head.

“Doubtful. Varian is not looking for one. If anything starts up, however, I am well prepared,” he said. A moment of silence, before he squeezed her hands again. “It will be alright, my darling. Nothing bad will happen. And nothing will stop me from loving you.”

The weight of his words was emphasized by the seriousness in his eyes, his gaze locked with hers. She trusted him, and she did have Spike with her. Lo’Gosh’s champion may be a formidable warrior, but he hopefully wouldn’t go through Khadgar to get to her. Hopefully.

She took a breath, and nodded.

“Okay.”

Khadgar squeezed her hands again, and then grinned.

“Spike’ll eat him if he tries to hurt you. Won’t you, Spike?” He said to the raptor, who agreed with a growl and by baring his teeth, a glint in his blue eyes.

“Dat...might not be da best idea.” Draggka replied reticently, resting a restraining hand on Spike’s neck. Before she could say anything more, heavy rapping on the door interrupted her, Spike’s head snapping up to attention. Unbidden, her hand went for where her bow would usually be, tension tightening through her body.

“That must be Varian.” Khadgar said calmly, rubbing his thumb against her hand. “Stay here. I’ll just be a moment.” He flashed her an earnest smile, before rising from his chair to greet their visitor. Draggka busied her hands by petting Spike, who kept his eyes on the door, though he glanced back at her occasionally, offering soft croons in reassurance.

There was some chatter by the door in Common; Khadgar’s friendly warmth and the deeper, more authoritative tone that made stones sink into the bottom of her belly. He’s not here to hurt you. Khadgar’s here, he won’t let anyone hurt you.

Two pairs of footsteps carried Khadgar and his visitor into view, and despite her best efforts, Draggka couldn’t control the spike of adrenaline that peaked within as she caught sight of the other man.

Varian Wrynn was a behemoth of a man, one of the tallest humans Draggka had ever known, and even if Lo’Gosh hadn’t smile favourably upon him, the man could intimidate all but the most stubborn orcs - appropriate for his status as High King of the Alliance, even if that title was apparently moot for now. The troll was slightly relieved to see that he was in casual leathers like herself, and his great-sword Shalamayne was absent - clearly a great concession Khadgar had managed to broker. That didn’t make Varian any less of a threat however, so she watched his face carefully, as did Spike.

“Varian,” the mage said, “this is Draggka, of the Darkspear tribe.” He gestured. “Draggka, this is Varian Wrynn, the former - well, you know already.” He grinned wryly.

Royal and hunter eyes met in that moment, sending a fearful jolt down her spine. Varian inclined his head slightly in courtly grace.

“Huntmaster,” he said respectfully.

“Ya Majesty.” Draggka replied, trying not to show her anxiety in gripping Spike too tightly, as the raptor continued to stare at the taller man intently.

“You don’t need to address me by that title here, Draggka.” Varian spoke. “I’m only here to talk as a man, not in the capacity of a king or the Alliance.”

“Okay...Varian.” Saying his name didn’t sound right - too informal, and not respectful enough.

She kept these worries silent as he sat in the chair opposite her with a business air - both relaxed and yet not. She didn’t blame him for keeping his guard up, as hers was up as well, and a raptor’s constant stare was bound to be unsettling. Khadgar settled into the chair between them, the clear mediator, even as he outwardly pretended to just be amongst two good friends.

“Would anyone like a pot of tea?” He asked brightly, and immediately Draggka was on edge, shooting him a wide-eyed look. Don’t leave me alone with him! You promised!

“I don’t mind.” She forced out.

“I don’t mind either, but you can brew one if you wish.” Varian replied. Khadgar gave a small nod, and in one fluid motion, he conjured an elemental to his side. He murmured instructions to the creature, which floated off to obey. The mage turned back to Draggka and offered a gentle smile, as if acknowledging her previous panic. She managed a little smile back, feeling foolish for not trusting him.

A long, awkward silence descended between them, broken only by the sound of boiling water.

“Khadgar has told you why we’re here.” Varian broke the silence first, his tone serious.

“Yeah.” Draggka replied. “He accidentally told ya we be together, and ya wanted to be meeting me.”

“Yes.” His gaze pinned her to the chair, and she felt Spike tense up. “I’m sure you understand my caution. Not many trolls and humans pair up together, and both with pure intentions to each other.”

“I be aware of dat.” She nodded. “Ya want to be sure dat ya friend be okay wit me.”

“Exactly.” She caught a flash of something in the monarch’s eyes, too fast to identify. “Khadgar has spoken highly of you, and I trust his word, but it helps me immeasurably to be able to talk to you myself. Try not to think of me as part of the Alliance in this matter, but as a concerned friend.”

“Wit all respect to ya, it be very difficult to do dat.” Draggka said, choosing her words with care. “Ya be da reason dat dere still be a Horde at all.”

“I know.” Varian closed his eyes for a second. “But we are on neutral ground, with a close-to neutral observer, and whatever the outcome of this discussion, we need your leadership of the Unseen Path against the Legion.”

He wasn’t wrong. And the troll suspected he was only saying this because he could feel the fear radiating off of her, one hand gripping Spike’s back (who was still staring at Varian) and the other clamped tightly around the arm of the chair. She consciously relaxed her grip, breathing out a sigh.

“Okay.”

The elemental returned bearing a tea tray at that moment, setting it on the table in front of them. It hovered idly for a moment and Khadgar waved it away with a soft ‘thank you’, pouring the tea himself. Only when he was finished did Draggka speak again.

“Suppose we better be talking ‘bout what happened wit Garrosh den-”

“Draggka...” The mage interrupted her, hand raising slightly as if to clasp her arm.

“I can’t pretend dat I weren’t a part of it when I was, Khadgar.” She shot back, trying to numb her stinging tone. “Better dat we be doing dis now.” Spike glanced back at her with a worried look.

“This wasn’t what I was asking for specifically,” Varian spoke, “but if you are willing to talk about it, I will hear your piece.”

Like you wouldn’t have asked about it anyway, Draggka thought bitterly. You said yourself that our kind ‘don’t pair nicely often’.

“It woulda come back around at some point,” she said instead, lifting a shoulder. She took another breath, rubbing at Spike’s back as she composed herself. The raptor laid his head back down on her lap, his eyes holding a concerned look.

“I knew of Garrosh’s style of leadership from da times I be reporting to him in Northrend.” She began. “He be young an’ headstrong, but he had da energy needed to keep goin’ in da face of da Scourge. Some tings he did an’ said I be disagreeing wit, but...” The troll paused a moment, considering. “But when ya enemy be as terrible as de mindless undead, ya can understand.” She saw Varian nod his head slightly in the corner of her vision, whilst Khadgar listened intently, his face a mask.

“I did not like Go’el leaving da title of Warchief to him durin’ da Cataclysm, but I could understand da logic. And I thought wit Cairne, Vol’jin an’ Eitrigg - I thought dat he be able to mature.”

“And then Cairne died.” Varian said, his deep voice sympathetic, even if she wouldn’t have called it ‘soft’. Draggka bowed her head, and Spike gently nudged her face with his muzzle.

“Dat were out of Garrosh’s control. He were an alright ruler for a time. But he be havin’ a taste for da ‘honour’ brought by war, and he not seem to understand dat he couldn’t take everyting we be needing by force. He did not know da conflict an’ wars dat be bringing us to our peace.”

A thought occurred to her. I don’t think Go’el gave him enough time to adapt. He had years to learn to lead. Garrosh seemed to be thrust upon the situation and left to deal with it. Now was not the time to consider this, however, so she kept it to herself.

“Da first decision I not be comfortable wit was de alliance wit da Dragonmaw. Dey be killing, cutting up dragons...” The hunter shivered, glimpsing the grisly wing-standards in her mind’s eye. “Even if dey were black dragons, it weren’t right.”

“But you agreed with Garrosh otherwise?” There was a hardness to Varian’s tone that shot a bolt of fear into her heart. Spike’s body tensed up, and the archmage gave the royal a warning look.

“No...” Draggka said slowly, dredging her memory. “I trusted Vol’jin’s judgement of Garrosh, but it were easy to distract yaself wit da bigger threat. Perhaps dat be what t...tem...cooled his lust for glory.” She sighed. “Pandaria be bringing out da worst in him.”

“Draggka.” This time Khadgar did reach out to her, resting his hand on hers. You don’t have to say this, his eyes said.

I must, was her reply.

“Ya know a lot of what happened dere, I’m sure. Da destruction of da Jade Serpent statue. Da corruption of da Vale. By da grace of da Loa I weren’t involved wit Theramore.” She closed her eyes, shaking her head. “Dat be when I knew dat Garrosh had lost all his honour.” Her ears drooped, tone flattening and becoming bitter. “But he be my Warchief, and I followed his orders.”

“Not because you wanted to, mind.” Khadgar interjected, sitting up straighter. “I think there was something about seeing your chieftain’s throat slit by Garrosh’s assassins that might have ‘encouraged’ you not to rebel against him.”

The troll knew what the mage was doing, but her hackles prickled regardless.

“Dat not be an excuse!” She spat. Spike whined.

“Was it?” Khadgar parried coolly, but with a determined fire. “You admit you followed orders. But it is only right to acknowledge the duress you found yourself under.”

“If I recall, your people became second-class citizens of the Horde.” Varian spoke calmly. Draggka nodded stiffly.

“Da Echo Isles were put under da guard of da Kor’kron. None allowed to leave or enter. We be barely people in Garrosh’s eyes.” The peons were probably higher than us.

“What?” The archmage’s eyes widened, his shock genuine. “Draggka, you never told me of this.”

“It not be someting I like to remember.” She replied, her gaze moving away to stare at a random patch of wall. “Da Kor ‘kron may have held my people as prisoners, but dey were still as family as any other orc. And I killed every one dat raised an axe against me.” She blinked slowly, sighing. “Dat was da one good ting I did. I tink.”

“I wasn’t aware that Garrosh had attempted to enforce martial law on the Darkspear.” Varian said, a new understanding in his blue eyes. “I’m sorry you had to choose between your people and the Horde.”

“Not dat it mattered.” Was her morose reply. “I still helped steal da Divine Bell from Darnassus. Killed da Silver Covenant in Dalaran.” Spike whined again, nudging her face with his snout.

“The few you did not sedate with wyvern venom, or avoided entirely.” Khadgar added, glancing at Varian.

Draggka opened her mouth to speak again, but the next words refused to come. Their gravity had gotten them caught in her throat, and she struggled for a long moment. Eventually, she hung her head, and when the words finally came, she could only say them just loud enough to be heard.

“Da Bell fell on Anduin, and I did nothing.”

All the warmth in the room vanished in an instant, with a silence so deafening one could hear a pin drop. Spike nuzzled Draggka’s face tenderly, making comforting noises.

“...You were there?” Varian’s voice was flat, devoid of emotion in the ilk of someone having to restrain themselves. Spike froze, tensing up as if he feared his pack-sister might be in danger. The troll managed to nod her answer.

“I be one of da force Garrosh brought to witness the ringing of da Bell,” she said quietly, lifting her head to meet the king’s eyes. “He were so brave, ya son.” The stinging burn of tears forced her eyes closed, Spike warbling sadly. “I watched da Bell fall on him...an’ I did nothing. My greatest dishonour. I shoulda helped him, damn Garrosh! I be so scared of his rage I didn’t help a friend.” She managed to restrain her sob, but not its shoulder-wracking heave. “I left him...I left him...”

“Draggka...” In a moment, Khadgar was next to her, wrapping her up in his arms and holding her close to his body.  She welcomed his comfort, letting herself cry out a couple of sobs to take the pain away, but no more. She was not the one who had suffered the most, and she wouldn’t insult him by drowning in her misery.

“I’m sorry,” she said, clearing her throat and rubbing her eyes, meeting Varian’s gaze. “Dis...I not expect ya forgiveness. Words not gonna undo the harm dat came to him. But I regret it. Always.”

A long silence fell upon them, the tension within it palpable. It took considerable effort for Draggka to hold Varian’s gaze, wanting to instead to bury her head in Khadgar’s chest to hide herself. The royal seemed to be trying to contain his emotions, only just succeeding. Spike had raised himself up, as if ready to leap between them.

“Your honesty is a credit to you.” Varian eventually said, stiffly.

“I’d like to be saying sorry to him in da future, when I be able to. If I be able to.” Draggka added softly. If he could forgive me, she thought to herself.

Another pause, shorter this time.  Khadgar pulled back from his embrace slightly, but did not return to his seat, perched awkwardly on the edge of Draggka’s. Spike finally returned to his sitting position, but kept an eye on the warrior.

“...You called him ‘friend’.” Varian spoke, voice a careful neutral. The hunter was impressed by his restraint.

“Someting close to it. I met him in da Krasarang Wilds, helping da Red Crane and dere students against da Sha. I helped him, be fightin’ alongside him. Talked when we not be doin’ dat.” She paused a second, thinking. “Remember tinking dat he be making a good King.” She shook her head. “Be trying to put a lotta tings right afta Garrosh, but de dishonour I be doin’ against ya son...Dat be wit me ‘til I die.”

Something shifted in Varian’s expression that she couldn’t identify, and she felt the archmage’s hand tenderly engulf hers, reminding her of his presence.

“Why were you not punished for fighting against the occupation of your islands?” Varian asked, shifting the topic.

“I don’t know.” The troll admitted. “I wonder if it were being used as an axe over my head. Perhaps if I were to refuse an order, it would be used against me. Or my brudder.” Self-consciously, she rubbed at her wrists, feeling her scars prickle. “No doubt it woulda been a charge at my execution.”

Khadgar’s grip tightened, his body stiffening, and Varian seemed surprised.

“Execution?”

Draggka nodded.

“Got captured during da Rebellion. Garrosh be coming to gloat at me, an’ I told him to his face dat he no longer be my Warchief.” She shrugged. “He not take kindly to dat. I were in line for a public execution at da next dawn wit a black eye.”

The archmage looked away, his jaw clenched and his lips set into a thin line. The monarch sat back slightly.

“Garrosh must have been at the height of his madness to publicly execute someone known for taking down Deathwing,” he said grimly.

“No.” Draggka shook her head, and almost baulked under Varian’s sudden razor-sharp gaze. “He be many tings, but he were not mad. Blinded by his emotions an’ misguided, but not mad. Not de orc I saw. Dat be why he be so dangerous.” She paused for a moment. “My death were gonna be used to break spirits and take a thorn outta his side. If it be soothing a grudge too, den so be it.”

The royal leaned back fully in his chair, thinking. Draggka took the moment to drink her tea, aware it was probably getting cold. Varian waited until she was finished to speak again.

“Is there anything else you wish to share about your role in Garrosh’s Horde?”

“I were more den happy to kill him.” The troll replied. “Be a shame I never did. It not undo da tings I did under his eyes, but I woulda felt dat I be trying to put tings right. I followed him all da way to the Other Draenor, and left before I be wetting my arrows wit his blood. He be dead, but his stain be on da Horde for years to come.” She looked away, sighing. “I thought Vol’jin were to be our re-, re-, our turn-around, to be better den before.” Her ears drooped. “Now he be dead too.” She felt Khadgar’s hand move to rub her back, and Spike nuzzled her chin.

“You don’t trust Sylvanas?” Varian asked.

“No.” The hunter shook her head. “I’m not sure why Vol’jin be choosing her as da Warchief, but I disagree with his decision. I know some of her people as friends, but her?” Draggka frowned. “I don’t know if she be treating da rest of da Horde da same as da Forsaken. I hope I be wrong. Perhaps he knows more den me. But I not...” She shifted uncomfortably. “I not want to take down another Warchief so soon. But I will if I must. I will not be used again.”

Draggka met Varian’s gaze, hoping the force in her voice and the sincerity in her eyes would help convince him that she meant those words. For his part, his face gave nothing away, but he seemed...content, as if he’d put the last piece of a puzzle into place.

“So,” he began after a sip of tea, “a troll fresh from defeating Garrosh heeded the call from an old hero of the Alliance to defend Azeroth. Why?”

“To defend Azeroth, like ya said.” She responded. “It be my home, an’ I not want it destroyed, regardless of who de invader be.” She tilted her head thoughtfully. “I not hear da call from Khadgar straight away - it be reaching me through Go’el first. I only realized who it be coming from later.”

“And?”

Draggka looked at Khadgar, settling back into his own chair. She raised an eyebrow at him, and he glanced between hunter and monarch.

“I can put my fingers in my ears, if you wish.” He suggested, a slight smile playing over his lips. The troll turned it over in her mind for a moment.

“I be honest.” She decided. “I were concerned when I found out who ya be. I not know ya well, but I knew da tales. Didn’t tink ya be too pleased by us being dere.”

“I was witness to what the Alliance and Horde could achieve together.” The mage replied, sipping his tea. “I would be a fool to ask for aid from one and not the other.”

Varian set his cup down on the tray, having taken the lull in the conversation to finish it. He looked between them, addressing the hunter again.

“First impressions?” He asked, with clear interest.

“He were not what I expected.” Draggka replied around her cup.

“In a good way, I hope?” Khadgar grinned boyishly (and somewhat nervously).

Varian arched an eyebrow at them.

“Perhaps if you didn’t interrupt her, she’d tell you,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Oh, sorry.” The archmage flushed pink, contrite, and Draggka couldn’t help the little giggle that escaped her.

“I were expecting someone very serious,” she explained. “Just about tolerating da Horde, who knew what he be doing an’ had no sense of humour.” She paused a moment, enjoying the face that Khadgar pulled out of the corner of her eye. “De only ting I were right about was dat he knew what he was doin’. Most of da time.”

“Go on.” Varian was also trying to hide a smile.

“He were friendly, funny, and though he be serious when it counted, he were also completely mad.”

“I’m not that mad.” Khadgar grumbled, folding his arms. Spike snorted.

“Ya brought a dam down on ya head!”

“Yes, but one: it was an entirely necessary action, and two: I didn’t bring it down on myself. I was merely caught by the water before my teleport spell completed.” He argued, folding his arms.

“I thought ya were dead!” Draggka shot back. “I were just starting to like ya, and den ya went and almost get yaself killed!” She blew a sigh out of her nose. “Shoulda taken dat as a warning.”

“A warning?” Varian asked, reminding the pair that he was still there.

“A warning dat he were gonna drive me up the wall.” She glared at the Archmage, who had now sat up to his full height, giving her a steady stare back, one eyebrow arched. Spike chuffed softly, amused. “He were ridiculous, making me an’ my friends go on really dangerous missions to be getting magical items, riskin’ our lives. An’ his! He nearly be getting killed by de Alt-Draenor Garona! Den he nearly be killing me when he be powering up dat ring.” She shook her head at him.

“In my defence,” Khadgar replied, “I did not intend for you to get killed at any point. And you scared me enough times with your antics too! I was sure you had been killed by Blackhand’s flagship explosion! If it hadn’t been for Maraad’s sacrifice...”

Draggka’s heart cringed at the barely hidden pain in Khadgar’s words, but decided to deflect him instead.

“I be used to explosions. I were taught engineering by goblins, afta all.”

“Oh, that makes me feel so much better.” Was the wizard’s sarcastic response.

“You’re an engineer?” Varian asked, interrupting the squabble. “That’s quite a surprise, since you don’t seem to have modified your bows in any way I would’ve expected an engineer to.”

“Well, I don’t like to be changin’ a bow dat not be my own.” Draggka explained. “Not dat Thas’dorah be needing any mods.” She answered his next question before he spoke. “I prefer bows over guns. I be using dem since I were a whelp. Can see da appeal of guns, but I be havin’ a connection to da bow. My weapon be a part of me, as I be a part of da land I live an’ hunt in. Da lives I take wit it be taken for a reason.” She folded her arms. “If takin’ lives become easy, I worry ‘bout whether I still care ‘bout taking dem. Regardless of whether dey be...” The hunter grasped for words. “Wild or not wild. Like...da difference between a bear an’ me.” She glanced to Khadgar. “Does dat make sense?”

He nodded, as did Varian.

“I see.” The royal said. “Sounds like honour underpins a lot of how you hunt”

“Yes. I be taught by my ma’da, and a tauren hunter when I were older. My brudder be a druid too, so I be seeing his side of it as well. Da way I see it, we be part of da wild, like everyting else. Someting dies so another can live. Dere be nothing wrong wit hunting an animal, but ya gotta respect it, like ya respect ya foe on da battlefield. You make its death mean someting - to feed ya, clothe ya. You use as much of its body as ya can. I leave some of it to my loa, to tank him for da hunt.”

Varian nodded, taking it all in.

“What are your thoughts on Nesingwary?”

Draggka snorted, unable to hide the snarl that curled her lips, a mirror to the one on Spike’s.

“Da fact he even be at da Lodge be a sign of our troubled times. If I not be needing his skill against da Legion, I would never have gone lookin’ for him. I be making it very clear dat he be following my rules when on my turf.” She blew an angry breath out through her nose. “Hunting for sport I can understand - I be pitting myself against powerful creatures sometimes as a test of skill. What matters is dat ya honour dere sacrifice, da fight. I give dem back to da Loa, feast upon dere flesh, turn dere skin into armour. To take a trophy and just leave da rest to rot be disgusting. Dishonourable.”

“I see.” Varian’s tone was its usual measured calm, but the troll could tell he was surprised at the venom she had for the dwarven hunter. She felt embarrassment prickle at the nape of her neck as her emotions settled.

“Uh, sorry. Dat...kinda went off on a different trail. What were we talking about?”

“No need to apologise.” Varian waved a hand. “You were talking about how Khadgar was risking your life in Draenor.” His brows furrowed. “So far it just sounds he was an annoyance to you.”

Shame cut sharply into her heart, and her face flushed.

“Oh, he weren’t dat bad!” She said hurriedly. “He be annoying at times, b-but not any more den anyone else!” She swallowed, trying to regain some composure. “I thought he not be wanting to get too close to da Horde afta all he’s been through, but he were kind to us. Friendly.”

Draggka glanced away, noticing Spike watching her curiously.

“Afta everyting dat be happening, I be feeling...Wit him, I not be feeling like a monster. Jus’...Jus’ a person. He makes me laugh a lot, and he be smart. Very smart. When he not be sending me on nearly impossible missions, we be talking for hours. ‘Bout all sorts of tings.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “Sometimes I were wishing  I weren’t da Commander so I could be wit him for longer.”

“Perhaps.” Khadgar spoke, his voice soft. “But there was none better for the job, I think.”

Draggka shot him a wry look.

“Ya say dat when da Highlord be around, but ok.” She returned her attention back to Varian. “We were friends, as much as a human and a troll could be. Not even crossed my mind dat we could be anyting more.” Spike shifted against her, and she petted his head. “I not had anyone I be loving dat not be friend or family before. I did not realize dat I be havin’ feelings for him ‘til my brudder pointed dem out to me. Didn’t expect dat dey be returned, not...not ever. What be a legendary hero of de Alliance want to be wit a troll hunter from da Horde, who be killing his own people? And yet...here we be.”

She met Khadgar’s eyes. His smile warmed her, and she reached out to take his hand in hers.

“I love him, ya...Highness. Sometimes he be driving me crazy or making me scared for my life, but I care for him wit everyting I have. I want him to be safe an’ happy an’ to never have to be upset ever again. If I can be giving him dose tings, I will. He be...he be more den I deserve, and whatever be bringing us together, I tank it every day.”

Draggka took a breath, and sighed.

“I be hoping one day dat de war can be over, and de wounds can be healing enough for us to be together witout hiding.” Her ears drooped. “I...I don’t tink dat day will ever come sometimes, but I be living in hope.”

Khadgar squeezed her hand.

“It will, darling,” he said. “It will. It must.”

“I see...” Varian looked between them, assessing, before he folded his arms. “Say the war ended tomorrow. Both against the Legion, and between the Alliance and Horde. What would you do?”

“Celebrate, probably.” Draggka replied. “Finally let my friends know who I been dating all dis while.” She closed her eyes, bringing her dreams into her mind’s eye. “Jus’...being able to hold his hand an’ not worry. Hug him when I be needin’ him. Kiss him to stop him saying dose puns.”

The archmage chuckled richly.

“Oh come now, Huntmaster,” he said, leaning close to her. “We both know you love them.” He grinned as she pushed him away, unable to hide her own smile.

“Dere be so many places I wanna take him - take you to,” she said. “I wanna take ya to da Echo Isles. To Thunder Bluff, to walk through da great gates of Orgrimmar hand in hand...” A sigh. “I just want for it to be okay for us to be together. Dat’s all.”

“That’s understandable, but...” Varian leaned forwards, face serious. “If something happens, and the war between us gets worse...You will need to choose a side.”

“Varian-” Khadgar spoke, but the monarch quickly raised a hand to stop him.

“Neutral or not, you are still human, Khadgar. Draggka and other friendly Horde champions may be able to vouch for you, but others will only see a human mage. The Sunreavers still nurse wounds from the Kirin Tor, which would only galvanise them against you. Whether you like it or not, the Horde will shut you out.”

He turned to Draggka then, his face still hard with the gravity of his words, but his eyes were softer with empathy.

“And I doubt the Horde would look kindly upon a member spending time with a human, regardless of their allegiance.”

Draggka wanted to retort otherwise, but Varian was right and she knew it. Being more than friendly with Khadgar would brand her as a traitor - even now, in the midst of the Legion’s invasion. If she was lucky, she’d be exiled, along with any of her friends who tried to defend her. The thought made her heart go cold.

At her silence, Varian continued, his voice softer.

“I understand what you’ve been through, and I’m pointing this out because Khadgar is my friend. A very good, old friend. I want him to be safe, likely as every bit as much as you do. Whatever you choose, there will be danger and consequences. If possible, I would like warning of which ones. If, of course, you have an inkling of your future choice.”

Draggka considered his words and her response carefully, searching her heart and deeper feelings. She hoped she could articulate her answer in Common that could be understood.

“...Da Horde been my home for a long time.” She began slowly, haltingly. “It an’ Spike been de only tings I had ‘til my brudder be coming back from da Echo Isles. I believed in it - Go’el’s Horde. Den Garrosh...he broke all dat. Den it became me and da Horde - not da one I knew, a different one. Even when Vol’jin be leading, I...I...” She struggled for the words, hands gesturing uselessly. “I be a part of da Horde. But da Horde...da Horde not be a part of me. Not like it were before.” She glanced between the two men, watching their faces anxiously.

Khadgar’s eyes flicked back and forth rapidly as he parsed her words.

“You’re a member of the Horde, and consider yourself a part of it...” He spoke slowly. “But you don’t feel like you are the Horde. Like you belong to it.” He tilted, raven-like. “Am I close?”

The troll nodded, a small smile flashing across her face. Trust Khadgar to understand.

“Yeah. I still be Horde, but da tings I do not be in dere name.” She took a breath, meeting Varian’s eyes. “If dey make me choose between dem an’ Khadgar, I be choosin’ him.”

The mage choked.

“You...you really mean that?” He asked, astonishment stark in his cursed features.

“Ya mean more to me den da Horde does.” Draggka replied, looking back to him. “I choose you every time.”

“You’re aware of the risks you’ll be taking, aren’t you?” Varian’s calm tone sounded out.

“I lived under da eyes of Hellscream. I know what de consequences be.” Emboldened, the hunter rose to her full height, lifting her chin. “If Sylvanas be tinking I be choosing her over my mate, she be sorely mistaken.”

Varian's eyebrows lifted with surprise, even as something tugged at the corner of his lips.

“‘Mate’?” He asked, sounding amused. Heat rose into the hunter’s cheeks at her slip - perhaps this was exactly how Khadgar had given the game away weeks before. Thankfully said mage quickly intervened as she grasped for words.

“‘Mate’ for the Darkspears i-is our version of ‘romantic partner’.” He explained, flushing pink. “I believe that ‘life-mate’ would be our equivalent of a married couple, yes?” He looked to her for guidance, looking a bit like a deer in the torchlight.

“Yeah.” She nodded vigorously. “Yeah, we not be...that joined.” She cleared her throat, becoming serious. “I know I not be da best person around. I done terrible tings dat I never be making up for. But I love Khadgar wit everyting I have. He be my pack-mate, my family, my home. I rather die den hurt him, an’ kill any dat tink dey can get me to betray him.” Draggka’s orange eyes blazed for a moment, before she calmed. “If ya believe only one ting I say, let it be dat I would never harm Khadgar.”

“And I believe her.” Khadgar added. “I trust her. In all things. With everything.”

Varian sat back with a thoughtful hum, closing his eyes. Although he was clearly turning things over in his mind, Draggka had a feeling he was no less alert than he had been speaking to her. It was like sitting in the room with an actual wolf - though she was mostly convinced she wouldn’t be attacked at the slightest sneeze, the troll was still careful to make no moves that could be seen as aggressive.

After a long, quiet moment, Varian opened his eyes again, and though they were as carefully inscrutable as usual, they seemed...content. And bright.

“Thank you for your time Draggka, Khadgar.” He bowed his head to each of them in turn. “It has been enlightening to speak with you.”

“And you.” Draggka bowed her head in return. Though you got more out of me than I will ever get out of you.

“Sooo...Everything’s okay?” Khadgar asked, eyes flicking all over Varian’s face anxiously. “You’re comfortable with me seeing Draggka?”

“To be certain, I would have to get to know her.” A smile graced Varian’s scarred features. “But it is clear to see that your feelings for her are genuinely returned.” His gaze shifted to the hunter. “I’m convinced that you are not a danger to my friend, but don’t think I won’t keep an eye on you.”

“I be tinking as much.” Draggka replied, shrugging.

“Varian, please. There’s no need to coddle me.” Khadgar grumbled. “I can look after myself.”

Several instances that contradicted that statement immediately popped into Draggka’s head and she rolled her eyes. Spike also snorted derisively, shooting the mage a look. For a brief moment, she and Varian’s eyes met, and it was clear to see that he was equally unconvinced.

Khadgar caught their looks, and his raven guise would have ruffled his feathers.

“What?”

“You’re lucky to have a number of champions around you, making sure your schemes go almost to plan.” Varian said diplomatically.

“You know me. I work with the best.” Khadgar preened, flashing a wink at Draggka. He either didn’t notice the younger man’s subtle jab, or was choosing to ignore it.

“Hmm.” Varian pushed himself to his feet with a warrior’s elegance. “I must take my leave. Be safe, both of you.” He bowed his head to them again.

“You too, Varian.” Khadgar returned the gesture. “Take care.”

“Good hunting.” Draggka replied.

Formalities performed, Varian left without another word, closing the door behind him. Silence was left in his wake, in which the troll found tension was locked into her shoulders and hands, even when she thought most of it had eased over time. She felt tension leave Spike as well, and the raptor sighed, flopping from her lap to the floor like a wet rug. Khadgar was still looking after Varian, but his gaze was elsewhere, his mind chewing over what had occurred.

“So...” Draggka began.

“That...went alright.” Khadgar said. He blinked out of his apparent trance, clasping her hands between hers. “Light, Draggka, I’m so sorry about the-”

“It be okay.” She waved his words off. “Garrosh be gone now - I can’t be letting his shadow weigh me down forever. And Varian needed to know. Better just be honest ‘bout it now den have him dig it up later.”

“I would have preferred if you’d not relived it.” The mage replied, squeezing her hands. “But I think he appreciated it.” A pause. “I think we’re alright. He seems to at least think you’re not out to do me harm, physical or otherwise. Which is a good start!”

Draggka tilted her head.

“What would ya have done if he said no?” She asked curiously.

“Consider what he said and let him go.” Khadgar replied matter-of-factly. “If I thought he was talking rubbish, I would continue seeing you in secret.”

“What if ya thought he had a point?”

“Then we would talk about it.” The archmage regarded her with an arched brow. “I do not intend to throw away our love on a whim, and certainly not on the sole testimony of one person who has spoken to you for an hour. I doubt we would have ever gotten this far if I didn’t love and trust you as much as I do.” A small smile played around his mouth. “Varian’s endorsement is certainly welcome, but I have adored you as deeply as is without it, and I will continue to adore you regardless.”

Draggka couldn’t help but smile back, warmth bubbling up in her heart, even as concern gnawed on her.

“Ya sure ‘bout dat? He not be pleased if he found out ya be sneaking behind his back.”

“No, but I have made it clear to him that I am a neutral entity now.” Khadgar replied. “I might identify with the Alliance, but I will not turn my back on the Horde champions that have helped me.” His eyes flashed with a defiant glee. “Varian can try to order me if he likes, but I will decide whether to obey or not.”

I hope you don’t regret it in the future. Draggka couldn’t help but think, yet she kept her mouth shut. In the brief moment of pause, the mage’s smile became gentle.

“Thank you for agreeing to this, darling. I know it was hard for you.”

“Yeah.” The troll smiled wryly. “Not as bad as I was tinking it would be, but I be glad you be here wit me.”

“Of course.” He squeezed her hands. “It was the least I could do.”

They lingered for a moment, before the wizard blew a breath out of his nose.

“I suppose you should return to your demon-slaying duties,” he said, his smile no longer reaching his eyes.

“Yeah. Da Legion not wait for us.” Draggka nodded sadly, rising out of her chair with her raptor at her heels.

“It would certainly be decent of them if they did, but alas, they are rather lacking in that quality.” Khadgar commented, watching as she donned her armour and bow. When she returned to him, he reached out, gently pulling her closer by her waist. “Be safe, darling. Come back in one piece.”

“You too, Ba’la.” Draggka replied, resting her forehead against his. “Keep yaself safe.”

“I will.” He leaned up to kiss her, slowly and softly, giving her the time to commit it to memory before he pulled away. “Good hunting, my love.”

#world of warcraft #khadgar #varian wrynn #legion au #oc/khadgar #draggka #sprs writing #otp: walk on the wild side #dialogue heavy #relationship discussions #long fic #angst #sorry it took so long galley #but it's here now!

[laurelsofhighever]

The Falcon and the Rose Ch. 38 - The Wind and the Summer Sea

Chapter 1 on AO3 This chapter on AO3 Masterpost here

--

Twenty-ninth day of Justinian, 9:32 Dragon

Consciousness came back to Alistair slowly. A haze of dim sound faded in and out of his awareness, some kind of scratching, and with it the sensation of his eyes roving beneath the lids. His head felt thick, his body heavy and too hot, and when he tried to move, he discovered through a general inventory of aches and pains that somebody had dressed him in his nightclothes. The noise stopped. He must have caught the attention of whoever had been making it.

A shadow blocked the light. As he turned towards it a cool hand smoothed against his forehead, and he squinted itchy eyes up at Rosslyn, no more than a dry blur through his exhaustion but one he would recognise anywhere.

“You’re awake.”

He made an indistinct noise and found out his throat had been rubbed with sandpaper.

“Hold on.”

She slipped away from him and without her face to ground him his eyes drifted shut again, content instead to follow her movements by listening as she glided about the room. He heard a door open, a muttered conversation, but his mind struggled to comprehend the words and floated instead, wavering between the current state of his body and flashes of the Swallow, the rising water, and the return to shore that he could barely remember. How long had he been lying here? Where was here? Just as he dared open his eyes again to check, blinking in the light, Rosslyn closed the door to whoever was outside and stepped lightly back towards the bed. His bed, he realised.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, brushing fingers along his cheek, apparently unaware that she had sat with her thigh pressing against his hip.

He groaned. “I’m still pretty at least, right?”

“Well there’s no blood this time,” she reasoned, with a ghost of her usual smirk. “And no broken bones. I’d call this a distinct improvement.”

“Hmm.”

In the silence, her gaze slid away from his, dipping instead to where her hand followed the line of his neck over his chest, to where his heart fluttered beneath his ribs. Unlike at West Roth, there was no hesitation in her touch, no recoil when his hand – almost of its own accord – unfolded from beneath the covers and settled at her waist. She barely seemed to notice. Dark circles bruised the hollows of her eyes, lending her skin a pallid sheen, and the hair usually so neatly braided frayed at the temples. But she was warm, and real, and leaning over him with a knotted frown hanging between her brows.

“I had a dream like this once,” he remembered, rubbing small circles onto her hip with his thumb.

“Mm?”

“Oh yes. I was tucked up in bed, and you were all worried about me... I can’t feel my legs.”

To his surprise, she laughed. “I can assure you they’re still there. Look.”

Cuno sprawled across the bottom half of his body, with his head pillowed on Alistair’s thigh and his paws splayed over the entire width of the bed. One bridle eyelid twitched as he snored.  

“His breath stinks.”

Rosslyn smiled fondly as she stroked her dog's ears. “You couldn’t possibly ask me to move him, not when he’s so peaceful.”

“No, I suppose not,” he huffed, still trying to work out how he had missed the presence of such a heavy animal on top of him.

“He was the best way we could think of to keep you warm. You were almost blue by the time we got you back.”

“How long was I asleep?”

“A day and a night.” The words were spoken calmly, but her frown deepened with the recollection. “The deepstalker venom kept your blood flowing against the cold, but then it gave you a fever and we had to bring it down.” She offered him a smile that didn’t quite lift the slump of her shoulders. “You got us our ships.”

He caught the hand still lying over his heart and brought the knuckles to his lips. “You look exhausted.”

Rosslyn opened her mouth to reply, perhaps to deny the observation, but her breath stalled and in the gap between her words the silence eddied like a dammed stream. One slight tug on her fingers and he could draw her down, coax her to rest against him, wrap her up in his arms and use her warmth to soothe away the despair the demons had clawed into his mind.

“What happened in that dream you mentioned?” she asked.

Heat itched on the back of his neck. “You, uh, spilled soup all over me.”

“Really?”

“Oh yes,” he replied. “The finest leek and potato – there was a public outcry and Cailan held a state funeral and everything. It was very moving.”

She shook her head, that lopsided smirk in place. “I don’t think I quite believe you. You’re blushing too much.”

“Curse my delicate complexion.” He smiled as he squeezed her hand. “It doesn’t really matter anyway.”

“Why not?”

“Because this is better.”

She tried to look exasperated, though the roll of her eyes was betrayed by the pull of her bottom lip, drawn between her teeth in a futile effort to remain demure. On an ordinary day, he might have teased her for such a reaction, but here in the quiet of his borrowed room, with his wounds aching under their bandages and the memory of the cold crawling along his spine, all he could do was look on, revel in the image before him, and marvel at the fact that she thought him worth all this effort. Her gaze flickered down to his mouth and his breath faltered. This time, he found the courage to tug on her fingers, beckoning with the same soft touch on her waist for her to tilt forwards, into his arms, into the kiss with which the demon had tried to tempt him in the cave. He remembered their promise to talk, but that could come later, after sleep and food and hopefully hours upon hours of having Rosslyn’s lips pressed against his own.

The door opened just as his hand cupped her jaw. They pulled apart in surprise, with the dog behind them snorting at the sudden rude interruption to his nap, and every muscle in Rosslyn’s body stiffened with defiance. In the doorway stood the Storm Giant, his arms folded over his chest, glowering under his bristling mane of white hair.

“So you’re back in the land o’ the living,” he growled, and turned to Rosslyn. “Away wi’ ye.”

She glared and stood, sliding to block the old man’s view like a wolf in front of the den. “You couldn’t give him an hour at least?”

“Hey,” Alistair tried, reaching for her hand.  

“You only just woke up,” she reminded him.

“And thanks to you, I’m absolutely fine. I’ll be alright.”

The Storm Giant cleared his throat when she opened her mouth to argue further. “There are matters te be discussed. In private.”

Still not quite ready to back down, cheeks hot with defiance, she glanced to Alistair with a final press of his hand and stalked over to the other side of the bed to the scrubbed wooden bench that served as a vanity.  

“A letter for the king,” she explained when she caught his questioning glance. “I finished it just before you woke up, and if I’m to be evicted, I might as well do something useful.”  

Unhurried, she folded the loose leaves of paper into an envelope and scrawled Cailan’s name across the front. The Storm Giant’s scowl only deepened as she turned the package over and closed it with a blob of blue wax from a crucible she had set to melt over a candle, but she remained guileless as she stamped it with Alistair’s own seal in place of the ring she had given to Ser Gideon. When the task was finished, she made a show of wafting the letter to cool the seal, and, though her expression remained bland, the rigid set of her shoulders as she stepped towards the door made even Alistair shiver.  

“Cuno,” she snapped, with her eyes fixed on her grandfather.  

The dog shifted, ears pricked and stubby tail wagging, waiting for the command.  

“Stay here.”

--

Up above the hold, the cliffs basked under the bright summer sky, the last of the previous day’s clouds chased across the horizon by a stiff northerly wind that coaxed white tips to the waves below and made the meadow grass ripple like silk. Out of the close atmosphere of the sickroom, and with Alistair’s recovery now certain, Rosslyn found space to breathe again. Her vantage point offered a view clear across Dunedyn and beyond the narrow strait to the neighbouring island, a sacred place forbidden to all but the augurs. Ships leapt through the stramash, one among them perhaps carrying the letter she had left with Brantis, and the others likely the clan lords’ vessels, going to take news of the moot to the rest of the Clayne.

News of Alistair’s success. She twisted the circle of flowers in her hands. Making crowns from the blooms that grew in the upland meadows had been a tradition she shared with her mother, who had taught her how to weave grass and stalk together without leaving loose ends to stick out and spoil the effect, and who had always giggled when her finished wreath was placed atop her husband’s head. The memory brought a smile to Rosslyn’s lips as she worked. She had started without quite meaning to, the action a reflexive motion to occupy her hands and keep her mind focussed on something other than the moment Alistair dragged himself out of the Swallow. It had played itself out again and again in the hours they had worked to save his life. Nerlina had come to her in the late hours of the evening, once he was out of danger, and apologised for her comments during the feast.

“I was just playing a little,” she had said. “If I had known...”

Rosslyn couldn’t remember her reply.

A bumblebee wobbled past and settled on the clover by her feet. Crickets buzzed in the grass nearby, larks high in the sky, and from the crest of the hill came the distant bleating of rams, carried by the wind that snagged her hair and sent it lashing about her shoulders. The day was wearing on, the pressures of the war looming behind the horizon with Tevinter ships and traitorous arls, but for now just distant enough that the pull of an easy walk along the cliffside held greater sway.

She sighed. “Not enough yellow, I think,” she muttered to the wreath, and brushed off her knees as she stood to scan the horizon for buttercups or frothy spikes of lady’s bedstraw.

A bark broke the silence. Turning, she was just in time to catch sight of Cuno through the grass, ears flopping and tongue lolling as he bounded towards her. Though he had tracked her this far, the strength of the wind scattered her scent so that he paused in confusion, craning his head above a spray of ox-eye daisies until she took pity on him and whistled to get his attention. The wide, doggy grin that broke over his face was enough to make her laugh, and she bent down with her arms spread wide to greet him and hopefully dissuade him from barrelling headlong into her legs.  

“Who’s a good boy?” she crooned when he met her, scratching his shoulder as he sneezed his delight and tried to lick her chin. “Who’s so clever for finding me? But I did tell you to stay with Alistair.”

Cuno chuffed and sat on her foot, then changed his mind and raced back the way he had come. Alistair was already cresting the hill when the dog reached him, his gait stilted and his shoulders hunched under a cloak he wouldn’t normally have needed, but he waved nonetheless and sent Cuno skipping ahead of him back down the path.  

“You should be in bed!” Rosslyn chided. In the daylight, the ashen pallor of his skin stood out more than it should.

“Nonsense.” He grinned at her. “Fresh air and sunshine, that’s what I need.”  

Unable to think of any real reply, she turned instead to fuss Cuno, who was delicately trying to steal the flower wreath from her fingers now that he had ceased to be the centre of attention. “No, this is not for eating. Here –” Dodging the investigations of a cold, wet nose, she knelt and placed the wreath on the dog’s head, tucking the sides under his ears to keep it in place.

“Very handsome,” she decided as she leaned back to survey her work.

Cuno only stared at Alistair, imploring.

“I don’t think he believes you.”

“Well, he can live with it.” Her knee cracked as she stood, her gaze on the ocean. “And so will all the disappointed young women I ran into on my way out of the broch. They were all so eager to offer their services and make sure you were alright.”

“It’s a shame I missed them,” Alistair answered with a shrug. “But then again, I was waiting for one young woman in particular, who was nowhere to be found.”

When she faced him, a flutter in her stomach, she found the gap between them closed to a bare few inches. “I would have come back eventually,” she teased. “For my dog if nothing else.”

His thumb brushed over the back of her hand. “Well, he’s very impatient.” His eyes dropped to her mouth. “I wanted to thank you.”

“Thank me?” She blinked, tilted her head back to see him properly, frowned as he pulled her dagger from his belt and offered it to her.

“You saved my life,” he murmured. “Again.”

On instinct, she reached up, but her hand curled away before she could touch the hardened leather scabbard. “No... I was forbidden to help you.” Her hand dropped to her side. “I didn’t do anything.”

For an instant, it looked like he would argue, but the words stalled on his tongue and he sighed them away as he scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Alright. Hypothetically, then. If you had helped me, and you’d been caught, what would have happened?”

The earnest look in those autumn eyes scalded. The view out over the cliffs was far safer, over the sea to where Howe sat in her father’s seat, and over Dunedyn and the realm of her mother’s people, the only family left to her, who were bound by law to shun any who dared defy the will of the sea.  

“Nothing that wasn’t worth the risk.” She pushed the dagger back towards him. “Keep it. I’m sure I’ll find another one. But that reminds me...”

He frowned as she fished under her collar, close enough now that his hands fell to her waist in a movement as natural as breathing. His surprise when she revealed his mother’s amulet, hanging from its silver chain around her neck – something swooped low in his belly, a kind of possessiveness that thrilled along the length of his limbs knowing she held onto something that was his, that it touched her skin where nobody else could see.

“I kept it safe,” she offered, when the silence stretched.

“Keep it,” he echoed.

“You’re sure?”

“It looks better on you, and it’s a fair trade. For a dagger. Don’t you think?”

“Alright.”  

With a steadying breath, she tucked the tiny silver disk out of sight again and adjusted her shirt to hide it, and batted impatiently at her wind-snaked hair when it caught on her nose and mouth. Alistair watched the quirk of her lips, the nimbleness of her fingers, the way her brows drew in over her grey eyes as she paused and once more let her gaze slip out to the horizon.

“What is it?”

“It’s nothing,” she said, and startled when he brushed a thumb along her cheek. “It’s - it’s silly, really. My mind keeps going back there, to waiting – not being able to do anything – and imagining how much worse it must have been for you, with the water rising, I...” Her eyes closed. She leaned closer, wavering with her hands braced against his shoulders until the confession became too much and she tipped into the solace of a proper embrace. “I couldn’t have done it. I would have been too afraid.”

Alistair's arms closed tighter around her, his words bitten out through clenched teeth. “At the moot. You volunteered to do it anyway.”

“I panicked. I would have lost you.”

“You didn’t.” He pressed a kiss against her hair. “You didn’t. I’m here, and it’s thanks to you.”

This time, she didn’t protest, only buried herself deeper against his shoulder and fisted her hands in his shirt, and he was grateful for it. Right at the end, in complete darkness with his lungs burning and the current pulling at him and the demons screaming in his mind, he had thought he wouldn’t make it. His body had starved for air, but in the moment, his only thought had been to see her again, to hold her and inhale the jasmine of her scent as she kissed him. Nothing happened on Innse Gaillean that did not reach its lord’s ear; the Storm Giant knew what she had done, and before all other things he made sure Alistair knew it too, in its entirety, so he would understand.

“You went against the gods for me.”

Playing with the hem of his collar, she shook her head. “No. If I had, you would be dead. They gave me what I needed to help you, long before I even knew I would need it.”

They fell silent. The dog, having lost his flower crown, snapped after crickets through the grass.

“We’ve come such a long way, haven’t we?” Alistair asked. His fingertips traced idles shapes along the back of her neck. “We sort of… stumbled into each other. And here we are.”

She chuckled. “From what little I recall of the night we met, I fell on you.”

"Mmhm… you were bloody heavy.”

“I was barely conscious!”

“And yet you demanded to see Teagan anyway, with this haughty look on your face like blood loss and exhaustion were for lesser mortals.” He sighed at the memory. “But… you were so brave, so determined… would it be too much to say I thought you were the most beautiful person I’d ever met?”

“It doesn’t say much for your taste,” she pointed out. “Since I was covered in blood at the time.”  

"You remembered my name. I wasn’t expecting that.”

Something in his voice pulled her back from the embrace, a shiver that ran through her core and lodged in her chest like smoke. Had he really fallen for her so soon? Had he realised, or had that come later?

“You called me Andraste,” she recalled, the memory unbidden but no less powerful. “In the infirmary, after West Roth. It was so awful to see you lying there, knowing the last thing I said to you was an argument.”

He nodded. “I touched you on the arm.” And he mirrored the gesture, a cautious slide of fingertips up from the wrist, turned into a question.

“I... wanted to kiss you. It was terrifying – I’d never felt that before.”

The confession robbed Alistair of thought. She watched him go still, saw his eyes fix on her mouth as he leaned forward – hesitated.

“I thought I was fooling myself, hoping you might… come to care for me.”

How had it taken them so long to get here? “You weren’t.”

Hands at her waist, her fingers playing with his hair as a breathless puff of laughter ghosted across her lips, and after so much time, it felt like the easiest thing in the world to tilt her face up, to let her eyes fall closed.

“So I fooled you, did I?” he asked, impossibly close.

She paused, pulled back. “… What?”

“Yeah that – that made more sense in my head,” he admitted, wincing even as he leaned in again. Her giggle hummed against his lips.

“And you were doing so well.”

“Maybe we should just stop talking?”

“If you like.”

And then there was no space between them at all.

#dragon age #dragon age: origins #da:o #alistair x cousland #alistair theirin #cousland #rosslyn cousland #i loved writing this chapter so much

[whump-goes-the-weasel]

“I have something I need you to do, Rose.”

It wasn’t the request that made Rose anxious—it was the ambiguity. She was used to being asked to “retrieve this, listen in on that, find something or other, confront so and so.” Always to the point. Naturally, Marshall couldn’t—or at least, he wouldn’t—tell her every detail; secrets don’t stay secrets for very long, he would say. But “something I need you to do” could’ve been anything.

It occurred to her that she didn’t have to say yes. Marshall was a lot of things, but easily angered wasn’t one of them. The two of them had been good friends; whatever they were now, it was at least alright. She could reason with him. Talk to him. Or at least try. There were options.

“What is it?” she asked.

“You know I consider my words carefully. If I wanted to tell you, I would have.”

Marshall had stuck the point of a dagger into the wood of the table, and was slowly making it turn in his hand. So frail for someone so young. Rose wasn’t always fully aware of just how ill he was until something like this made it obvious. She sat down across from him, because of course she would, of course things would go exactly as they had gone before. Marshall would have something to do that he couldn’t—or at least, wouldn’t—do himself. She’d go and do it for him, because... because they were friends. Or had been friends. And because he needed her.

“Alright.” She hesitated, her jaw tense. “But we need to— can we at least discuss—”

“The magic? It’s a moot point, Rose. You and I know the reason you’re still here.”

Because I didn’t have a choice.

“Because you chose to stay, time and time again. You cared, Rose.” He sighed. “It feels like everyone has it in for me sometimes. This is the only way I can trust you. I shouldn’t have to say it again.”

Rose stared at the pockmarked table and pressed her knuckles into its surface. “How urgent is this? Should I be leaving now?”

“If now works,” he said with a grin.

She looked up and met Marshall’s eyes. That was all it took for the spell to hit, and it hit fast—a sinking feeling in her body, a floating feeling in her head. And then the sudden shock of what felt like a door being slammed shut between the two. The tensions in her chest unraveled all at once.

Her body got up from the chair and took the dagger as Marshall handed it to her. 

“Just in case you need it,” he said.

She felt the hilt in her hand, but the sensation was distant, not attached to the rest of her.

The dagger slid into a sheath at her hip. No other words were spoken as she walked out the door.

------------------------------------------------------

It never stopped being strange to Rose, the feeling of someone else taking control. There was nothing inside her for her to reach out to; even her eyes wouldn’t blink if Marshall didn’t make them. The level of focus he must have had was beyond impressive, even now.

It should have worried her, she knew that. But there was some kind of rush to it, some blend of comfort and excitement in her at getting to watch it all. She didn’t know where it came from. Maybe it was the spell turning certain gears in her head, but right now she didn’t care. It was so much easier, felt so much better, to go along. To not fight it. To—she hated the word, but it was accurate—obey.

Obey. It didn’t sound so bad, did it? Not now, at least.

In truth, this was why she had never said no to him. And she didn’t have the heart to say it to Marshall, but he must have been well aware of it.

The streets moved past her inconsequentially, like a blur. It didn’t matter where she was going. She would find out when she got there. 

Only once her hands gripped onto a stone wall and she began to climb did she start paying a bit of attention. Marshall liked finding shortcuts, and he would often pursue them with only a minimal regard for Rose’s well-being. Only at a time like this would she ever climb so quickly, jump so recklessly down to the other side. That was part of the fun, she supposed. She must have scraped a knee; she felt the pain like the soft glow of a covered lantern. But no time to check. Back to the retreat of her own mind. She kept walking. 

------------------------------------------------------

It was humble, the house that Rose arrived at. She wondered what she might need to do at a place like this. Her hand knocked on the door, and a slightly disheveled-looking man opened it.

“Benjamin?”

"Do I know you?” the man—Benjamin—said.

“Marshall sent me,” she said, walking past the threshold.

Benjamin squinted his eyes. “This isn’t another one of his games, is it? I don’t care what message he has. Go and tell him—”

Rose’s hand gripped the dagger and pulled it from its sheath.

Wait.

Benjamin backed away from her, his eyes locked on the blade. “You must have misunderstood.”

“I doubt it.”

This can’t be what I think it is.

"I never meant any harm to Marshall.” It was clear the man was trying to stay calm, though a quiver in his voice gave his fear away. “If you could just—”

Rose cut him off, pinning him to the wall with one hand, holding the dagger to his neck with the other.

He sent me to kill him?!

No. Not this. 

She fought to pull her arm away, reached for any sense that it was her own. All it did was make her hesitate. Benjamin sent his knee towards her stomach and dashed upstairs as she fell; the dull pain set off a few lucid sparks. She got back up faster than she would’ve liked, grabbed the man’s wrist, kicked the back of his knee, took his shoulder and turned him to face her.

No, Marshall. I’m not going to do it. Her skin crawled. 

But you are, aren’t you?

Marshall couldn’t hear her. Or at least, he didn’t listen. She knew that.

She put the dagger back at Benjamin’s throat. And it felt right.

No...

“Y- you had your chance.” The words struggled to leave Rose. Her jaw tensed, her eyebrows furrowed. She only noticed this once Benjamin’s expression changed, became startled. “You’re not... he’s got you, doesn’t he?”

That did it. 

A cut across his neck and a jab into his stomach later, Rose sheathed the dagger and ran.

------------------------------------------------------

She payed attention to nothing. This was how it was supposed to be; Rose staying curled up inside her head with nothing to worry about while Marshall did what he needed to do. That was how she avoided knowing awful things like this; that was the way to keep everything feeling good and right and in its place.

She hadn’t... done this before, had she? Killed someone?

No. She never had. This was Marshall’s doing. Not hers. Not her fault. There was nothing she could have done—this both comforted and frightened her.

She let herself sink back. Let the gears turn. Somehow she always managed to forget it was better that way.

------------------------------------------------------

Her body arrived at the door and opened it. Marshall was still at the table, eyes closed, forehead resting in his hand.

“You’re back,” he said, chuckling.

She didn’t move. Couldn’t. You’re really going to taunt me with this? Now?

“Please... let, me...” The words barely made it out before her mouth closed shut, and the muscles around it clenched.

“It’s remarkable how much tension you can hold in that one spot,” he continued, and she felt her jaw relax.

She walked forward, then stumbled onto her knees as control began to seep back into her. Slowly, she moved her fingers, clenched a fist and opened it, steadily got back up.

It felt... off.

She’d adjust back to it soon enough. She always did.

#whump #whump fic #rose #marshall #mind control #magic #cw: murder