Summary:Ā All his life, Braig dreamed of the honor and prestige that came along with being a hero from the stories of old. So when an opportunity to find a legendary weapon falls right into his lap, how can he say no? But if those stories are anything to go by, things never turn out quite as expected. Part one of (?) in a series. For Day 6 of @apprenticeweek : AU.
Characters/Pairings: Braig, Dilan, Aeleus, bg Dilan/Aeleus. More to come in the next partĀ š
Rating: T; some alcohol and swears
Word Count:Ā ~2.1k
Authorās Note:Ā Will be posting part 2 tomorrow for the free day! I started writing this as a one shot but it quickly spiraled out of control. You know what they say: once you start using fantasy name generators for your towns and mountain ranges itās all downhill from there.
~~~
Glory Is A Whisper
āI just donāt get it,ā Braig pondered aloud, kicking his feet up on the rough-hewn tavern table as he tipped back precariously in his chair. āWhat do all of those legendary heroes have that I donāt?ā
The fairy-tales always made it sound so easy. Sure, there was usually a dragon guarding the princess or some ancient necromancer with an army of undead to protect a magical artifact, but the hero's path always seemed to lay out nicely before them. Sometimes it appeared in the form of a magical mentor, sending the hero on a quest or guiding them to great power. Other times it was a prophecy, a pre-destined event that one was born and molded for their entire lives. Braig had neither of these going for him. So what then was an aspiring glory seeker to do?
Dilan, one of Braigās only friends in the village, sighed and sloshed the liquid in his tankard around. How many times had they had this conversation before? He didnāt look up from his ale as he responded sharply.
āManners, for starters. Feet off the table, Braig.ā
The smaller man gave a dramatic groan, but obeyed. āIām serious! Iāve got charisma-ā
āDebatable.ā
ā-good looks-ā
āDonāt make me laugh.ā
ā-and my skill with a bow.ā
Dilan grumbled; he unfortunately couldnāt refute that. If there was anything that could be said about Braigās potential for greatness, it would be attributed to his keen marksmanship.Ā He was also quick and far more clever than most would give him credit for, but he often acted carelessly on impulse. His personality, boisterous and cocksure, left much to be desired.Ā
He was a man through and through - by all accounts, the least remarkable race in the realm. And if one asked any of the villagers of Dunstead that knew Braig, he in particular was even less so.
āAll Iām saying,ā Braig continued, āis that thereās gotta be something more to life thanā¦ This.ā He gestured to the rest of the tavern and its rowdy, drunken patrons. The irony that he was one of them went completely over his head.
Dilan scowled. āYouāre the one who wanted to come here in the first place.ā
āYou know what I mean! Yeah, I like to come here because sometimes people come through with stories. Stories of places and treasures far away from here. But if this is all I have to look forward to for the rest of my life? Whatās the point?ā
āI think youāve had too much ale and itās muddling what little sense you have left.ā He shook his head. āPerhaps itās time we leave. I have to be at the blacksmithās first thing tomorrow morning.ā
Braig waved his hand dismissively. āIām not nearly as drunk as you think. You can go if you want, but Iām going to stay a while longer.ā
āIf you say so.ā Dilan stood up with a grunt, digging around in his pocket for a few silver pieces. He set them on the table. āGive these to the barkeep before you leave. Do not pocket them.ā
āGive āem to him yourself then. Aeleus likes you better anyway.ā
He watched his companion leave the tavern, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Aeleus doing the same. Braig rolled his eyes. Their mutual infatuation was so obvious to everyone but each other, yet Dilan called him the simpleton. He kicked his feet back up on the table and closed his eyes, listening for any threads of conversation that might be mildly interesting.
āTheyāre not so much from me as they are an apology for him having to put up with you,ā he quipped, with a quick glance at the ginger man behind the counter. āBesides. Heās busy right now and doesnāt need me distracting him.ā
Braig shrugged. āWhatever you say, Dil. Have a good night.ā
He had spent many a night like this in Dunsteadās tavern, listening to rangers and travelers and peddlers exchange stories in hopes of finding a legend to follow. Preferably something that required his skill with a bow to slay a dangerous beast or defeat a great foe. His fingers itched for a more challenging opponent than the rabbit he hunted for dinner last night.
But these were not the sorts of stories he heard. Most of them were boring and none were even close to anything he would consider legendary. Sure, killing a rabid wolf that had been slowly picking off members of a nearby village was worth some bragging rights, but where were the riches? The grandeur? He wanted recognition and reward for his efforts, but he was beginning to think the opportunity would never come.
And then the tavern door creaked open and the din of the crowd quieted ever so slightly. Braig cracked an eye open and glanced toward the newcomer. It appeared to be an older man judging by his gait, but a heavy cloak obscured his face. He wasnāt a Dunstead local, that much was for certain. More than a few pairs of eyes followed him to the bar where he seated himself. There was a heavy and distinct air of otherness about him that Braig couldnāt put his finger on. He seemedā¦ Powerful. Important.
Maybe heād had too much ale after all, because he didnāt even think before he stood from his own table and swiped up the money left by Dilan, making his way to the bar. He seated himself next to the stranger and beckoned Aeleus over.
āA pint of your finest for myself and this gentleman here.ā Braig handed him a silver piece with a flourish. āYou can keep the change.ā
Aeleus nodded and set about pouring their drinks. Braig turned to the old man, who had watched the exchange passively. It was strange; even up close, he couldnāt make out any distinguishing features beneath the cowl.
āI appreciate the kindness, stranger.ā The newcomer's voice came as a deep and gravely rasp. āDo you often buy drinks for weary travelers?ā
āI guess you could say Iām in charge of hospitality here,ā he grinned. āThe nameās Braig.ā
The man dipped his head in acknowledgement. āA pleasure.ā
āYour drinks, gentlemen,ā Aeleus interrupted, shooting Braig a briefĀ āI know youāre bullshitting this man but Iām going to stay out of itā glance before setting their tankards down and leaving to serve another patron.
Braig lifted his drink in a toast, bumping it with the strangerās. āWelcome to Dunstead, my friend!ā
As they drank, Braig got the feeling that this reclusive stranger was privy to some secret knowledge or power. He just had a feeling. And so he found himself crafting a very elaborate and very false story about how he was a famed archer in the region and basically the hero of Dunstead. He recounted a tale in which he single-handedly defended a young prince whoād been attacked by bandits while passing through the hills on the east end of the village, and was rewarded handsomely for his valor. Most of the money was donated to widows and poor families in town, of course. He peppered in other small, more believable acts of kindness as well, and the stranger listened with rapt attention.
āA shame your deeds are not known elsewhere,ā the gentleman hummed at the end of it all. āIt is to be expected, of course. Such heroic men are usually only acknowledged in the pages of history. But it would appear Iāve found a legend in the making.ā
āEh, maybe so,ā he shrugged nonchalantly. āBut helping others is a reward all its own.ā
āMe? A living legend?ā Braig laughed, playing up his modesty. āAs if. Iām just a guy who does the right thing, regardless of reward.ā
āOh, but that selflessness is what qualifies you to be a hero,ā the stranger continued. āYouāve risked your life for others with little regard for your own safety. Donāt you think thatās deserving of something more than just the respect of your fellow man?ā
āBut what if I told you that it doesnāt have to be?ā
Braigās faƧade almost cracked as whatever heād been about to say died on his lips. His shock, however, was quickly covered up with an easy grin. He knew his act was working as intended, but he hadnāt expected to get to this point so quickly.Ā
The man dug around in his robe for a moment before procuring a rolled parchment. He laid it on the bar to reveal a map of the realm. Braig had seen one like it once before, a traveling peddlerās map marked with safe trade routes and profitable towns. But this mapā¦ There was only one destination marked on it. An inconspicuous spot at the foot of the Skarnfell mountain range.
āTell me, Braig, have you heard tales of Whisperwind?ā
His jaw nearly hit the floor. Of course he knew of Whisperwind, as did every other child whoād ever heard a bedtime story. It was a legendary elven bow, enchanted so that as long as the target was in sight, its wielder would aim true every time. He hadnāt allowed himself to believe it was real since he was a boy that dreamed of discovering it. Most dismissed it as a legend.
The stranger gave a low chuckle. āI can tell by your expression that you have. Now, donāt you think such a weapon would be fitting for a hero such as yourself?ā
āButā¦ I thought the elves left this region long ago.ā
āThat is what history has told us, yes. But their last settlement before moving on, a city inside the mountain, still stands. And inside, they left behind one of their greatest artifacts.ā The man pointed to the spot on the map to reinforce his point. āIāve searched for it myself, but lack the wits Iād had in my youth. Perhaps youād fare better?ā
āI-I donāt know what to say.ā They were the first honest words heād spoken to the stranger so far, a sure sign of his shock. āI appreciate it, I do, butā¦ Why entrust something like this to me?ā
The stranger laid a hand on his shoulder, eyes beneath the cowl silently penetrating his very soul. Was that a flash of gold he saw?
āYou are a great man in word and deed, Braig. As I said before, I believe you are worthy of more than just praise alone. This is your opportunity to become something more. A true legend.ā
Maybe it was just Braigās imagination, but was the manās grip on his shoulder tighter? Or was he just nervous, already imagining the journey ahead? This was what heād always dreamed of, after all. A legend to chase after. His chance for glory.
His destiny.
āTake this map home with you and think on what Iāve said.ā He let go of Braigās shoulder and rolled the parchment up once more. āA gift, for entertaining this weary old man with tales of valor and generosity.ā
Braig stood up, tucking the map into his pocket and shaking the strangerās hand. āThank you, misterā¦ā He chuckled awkwardly. āYāknow, this whole time we were talking, I never did catch your name.ā
āMy name is hardly important. But Iāve affixed the corner of the map with my symbol. If you discover Whisperwind and make it into the pages of history, I would like to be named in your story. My symbol will suffice for such a purpose.ā
Braig nodded dumbly, head still reeling from the revelations of the past few minutes. āYeah, of course. Iāll never forget your kindness, sir. Truly.ā He turned to walk away, but stopped short. āWait, do you have a place to stay tonight? If you donāt, itās the least I could do to offer you mine.ā
The man laughed, deep and rich. āYou neednāt put yourself out on my account. I have money for a room at the inn tonight. Iāll be moving on tomorrow morning.ā
āAlright, well. I bid you a good night then. And safe travels.ā
āLikewise, young man.ā
As Braig left the tavern, he nodded to Aeleus, who was doing his best not to make eye contact with Braig. Bless the man, he really did mind his businessā¦ Oh right, he almost forgot the tip! Braig stopped just outside the door and dug in his pocket for the silver coins Dilan left, but his fingers found nothing. Huh, maybe heād dropped them on the way to the bar. They were probably long gone, swept up by some vulture. Not that it mattered, anyway. What was a few pieces of silver to a great weapon from the age of elves?
Braig hardly got a wink of sleep that night. The stranger told him to think it over, but heād already made up his mind. He packed a bag and was ready to leave at sunrise. The journey would only take a week, so he really had nothing to lose. The most difficult part would be the day spent navigating through Willowmire forest at the northern border of Dunstead. But as long as he stuck to the path, heād be fine. He had to be, for his destiny awaited him.
Summary: Aeleus faces the challenge of recommending a book to Dilan based on his personality. But how can he do so without giving his own feelings away? A late submission for @apprenticeweekās Day 3 prompt: Quotes.
Characters/Pairings:Ā Dilan/Aeleus
Rating: G; real fluff hours here folks
Word Count:Ā 1.4k
~~~
Quotations
It wasnāt often that the shift schedule at the castle aligned perfectly to give Aeleus and Dilan the same afternoon off. The only other senior guard was Braig, who was trusted with the duty of overseeing the lower ranked guards only in the absence of the other two. Dilan had grumbled and said there was good reason for it, but Aeleus wasnāt about to complain.Ā
And so as they often shared their patrols, they shared their afternoon together in the library. Dilan had selected a tome on horticulture, his brow furrowed as though proper soil acidity and cross-pollination techniques were the most stimulating topics in the world. Aeleus settled in beside him with some light fiction.
The best people possess a feeling for beauty, the courage to take risks, the discipline to tell the truth, the capacity for sacrifice. Ironically, their virtues make them vulnerable; they are often wounded, sometimes destroyed.
Aeleus dog-eared the page, making a mental note to write it down in his notebook later before continuing on with his reading. Beside him, Dilanās eyes flickered to the book.
āFound another one, have you?ā He asked impassively, feigning disinterest even as he leaned over to peer at the page himself. āLetās see it then.ā
Aeleus helpfully tapped at the page with his forefinger. Dilan chuckled to himself. āAn apt quote. Your heart is far too soft, my friend. Many would take advantage of that.ā
āBetter to open it for others than close it off from the world,ā he rumbled, a small smile softening the jab.
But Dilan was used to the teasing from his oldest friend. A huff was his only response before changing the topic.
āYou must have a quote for every person and situation at this rate,ā he muttered as he turned a page, no longer actually reading his own book. āI bet you even have quotes forĀ me.ā
āI donāt believe I do.ā Aeleus hummed. āBut if I find any, Iāll pass them along. Or, better yet, Iāll lend you the book.ā
āOh you know how I do so enjoy fiction and poetry,ā Dilan deadpanned. āThough I suppose if you recommend it, Iāll suffer through for your sake.ā
Aeleus smiled. His companion didnāt share his love of reading for enjoyment, so the offer itself was rare. Dilanās choices always served a purpose, academic or otherwise. That wasnāt to say Aeleus only indulged in light reading, but he was the only Apprentice that did so frequently. It could do the lancer some good, he thought. Something to soften the tough exterior.
Aeleus peered at his friend, who was thoroughly engrossed in horticulture once more. It was just about as peaceful as heād ever seen Dilan. He smiled, warmth radiating from his chest and making its way throughout his body before he turned back to his own reading for the remainder of the afternoon.
~
A week later, Aeleus had read a few books, but struggled to find the perfect quote for Dilan. Well, that was actually a lie. There was one that made him think of his fellow guard, but it turned out to be more of a reflection of his own feelings toward the man. And it was much more forward than he was capable of being.
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
The verse encapsulated feelings that heād spent years trying to make sense of, feelings he wished he could one day verbalize to his friend. He had little to offer but would give it all in a heartbeat. But Dilan was slow to let others in, and hard to win over with pretty words. And Aeleus, of course, wasnāt great with words to begin with. Perhaps he could work up to it.
After a few more days - and many skimmed books - he found a line that was perfect for the stoic guard. It was a romance novel, of all things. He would probably hate it. But the quote was so perfectly Dilan that as soon as he happened upon it, he knew it had to be the one.
He was still too young to know that the heartās memory eliminates the bad and magnifies the good, and that thanks to this artifice we manage to endure the burden of the past.
It was a gentle reassurance that no matter what trials the heart has suffered, love would prevail with time. After all, it was with time that the man opened up to him as much as he had. If it was time he needed, then Aeleus would give it to him. Secretly, it served as a promise as well. If the time came that Dilan was willing to open his heartā¦ Well, then Aeleus would be there for that as well.
After some hesitation, he bookmarked the page with the quote and handed the book off to Dilan the next day. The lancer accepted it with only a small grumble, promising to read it soon.
By the next week, he still hadnāt reported back to Aeleus with his thoughts. It worried him that the guard hadnāt said anything at all, positive or negative. Perhaps he had come on too strong after all, and heād been too forward. Dilanās heart could be a delicate topic, no matter how hard he tried to convince the world otherwise. Hopefully the man had just forgotten and the book sat on a nightstand gathering dust, its bookmarked page blissfully undisturbed.
But one night as Aeleus retired to his quarters after a shift, there was a peculiar book-shaped package at his doorstep. He picked it up and unwrapped it once he was inside. It was another romance novel. One he was familiar with, actually. Heād read it some years ago in his youth. Turning it in his hands to inspect it, he noticed the corner of a page was folded in.
He smiled. It had to be from Dilan. But what prompted it? His friend had said nothing to him about the other book, but clearly heād read it seeing as how they were exchanging literature now.
Since he had read it before, he felt only a little guilt in skipping to the marked page. As he flipped through the pages, however, a slip of paper flew out and fluttered to the ground. It was a note. He picked it up, holding it under a lamp to read.
I appreciated and enjoyed the recommendation, my friend. But next time, Iād appreciate your honesty first and foremost. Braig brought me one of your other books and told me it was your first choice. Consider this a response to that one.
~ Dil
Wait, when had Braig been in his quarters? Aeleus rubbed his forehead. What book had the nosey guardsman delivered on his behalf? He performed a quick inventory of his bookshelf. The only one that seemed to be missing wasā¦ Ah, of course. The confession. But how could he have known it was meant for Dilan?
With a sigh, he concluded that there were many things Braig shouldnāt know but did anyway. His heart leapt into his throat, dreading his friendās response now that he knew what had happened. He returned to the delivered book and began reading through the earmarked page, searching for the quote.
But Dilan wasnāt a man to bother with subtlety. He had underlined it.
I had not intended to love him; the reader knows I had wrought hard to extirpate from my soul the germs of love there detected; and now, at the first renewed view of him, they spontaneously revived, great and strong! He made me love him without looking at me.
A gentle smile broke out as he sat down, reading it one more time for good measure. It would appear that he shouldāve been more forward in the first place. He never would have thought that his own feelings were reciprocated. Moreover, he never would have thought that Dilan would read a classic romance novel of his own free will. He studied the book once more; the spine was slightly cracked and worn, and the pages fanned out with ease. The lancer continued to surprise.
Now, with the difficult part sorted out, Aeleus began to think about his response. He could invite Dilan over for tea that weekend. Or perhaps they could discuss it as they patrolled the castle grounds. But of course, the answer was obvious.
He tucked the book into an empty spot on his bookshelf, thumb brushing over it with a soft smile, and began searching his shelves once more.
~~~
Authorās Note: First time writing Dilan/Aeleus \o/ I hc Ael as a bit of a classic lit nerd; mostly adventures and epics, but with a definite soft spot for romance and poetry. Also Iām a terrible reader OTL I just spent a few hours searching for quotes that stuck out to me. In order they are: Ernest Hemingway (no source so probably just something he said but weāll pretend he wrote it), Aedh Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven by W.B. Yeats, Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia MĆ”rquez, and finally the big one: Jane Eyre by Charlotte BrontĆ«. Maybe Aeleus isnāt the only one with a soft spot after allĀ š
my radiant garden family exchange piece for @maniacalchimera, that Iāve been holding off on posting so itāll line up all nice with @apprenticeweek friends/family day~
āBraig joined me by the fountain today. Normally his vexatious and boisterous ways are enough to keep me afar. Today, however, I found that I much enjoyed listening to his philosophical opinions- as wrong as they wereā
Apprentice Week Day 1: flowers mean FLOWER CROWNS ! Ienzo prolly knows how to make them, with how little activity there is inside the castle. Hastily colored bg because my actual coloring process takes hours š
Apprentice Week is just less than a week away now! Have this celebratory comic of how I imagine the guard trio becoming friends :)
(Remember to tag posts with #apprenticeweek2020 on April 19th - 25th! All info about the event is provided on the blog if youāre interested! We hope to see you there!)
Summary: Being a Nobody is easy without all of those messy emotions weighing you down. Still, Xigbar gets to thinking and maybe he misses it a little. Or, rather, he misses someone. But he never goes about things in a straightforward way. The first half of a two part fic.
Characters/Pairings: Xigbar/Vexen
Rating: T (swears, fighting & some blood, nbd)
Word Count: 2.6k
Authorās Note: Part two is technically done, but I definitely want to do some quality edits before posting. Both parts were actually written last year with inktober prompts, but ended up fitting together nicely as one story. I made a lot of improvements to this portion and want the continuation to be on that same level. So in the meantimeā¦ Happy 2/4 ^^
~~~
A Long Forgotten Ache
When Xemnas asked Xigbar who he wanted with him on a recon mission in a world with no magic, the freeshooter was perhaps too quick to volunteer Vexen. He could tell that answer wasnāt exactly what the Superior expected.
āAre youā¦ Quite sure? You wouldnāt rather have Xaldin or Lexaeus accompany you?ā
āLook, I know heās the resident egghead and not exactly our best fighter, but heās the only one around here with an eye as sharp as mine. Well, almost.ā Xigbar grinned and pointed to his good eye to reinforce the point. āYeah the other two have brute strength, but I could really use his intuition on this one.ā
That, of course, was only part of the reason. Vexen was also incredibly fun to agitate. The rise he could get out of him wasnāt the same as it used to be, but it was better than anyone else in the Organization. Plus, they hadnāt spent much time together since becoming Nobodies. He would lie if he wasnāt a little curious as to how much of Even was still left. But personal curiosity and entertainment didnāt make for a good argument, so he said nothing more.
Xemnas hummed to himself, considering. āI suppose that would work. But see to it that heās capable of defending himself without his magic, should there be any difficulties on the mission. Youāll depart at the end of the week.ā
Xigbar gave a flippant salute as he summoned a corridor to the academicās lab. āYou got it, boss.ā
I canāt imagine xigvex as anything other than your sappy old couple neighbors who like play old swing music and dance in their living room at night and act like theyāve been married for 50 years but then you learn theyāre both only 45.
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