Notes: Basically this is just a rewrite of Ike and Soren's conversation after Soren's paralogue. The dialogue is great already but you know, wouldn't it be even better if it was longer and even more obvious that they love each other?
Words: 1896
Summary:
The first thing Emblem Soren does when he is awakened is go to battle. The first thing he does after the battle is go to Ike.
Crossposted to AO3.
As soon as the battle ended, Soren went straight to Ike, flushed with the exertion of the recent battle, the shock of seeing Ike, and a not-insignificant amount of righteous indignation.
âYou attacked me!âÂ
âNice to see you too, Soren,â Ike said, unruffled as ever. âI seem to recall that you got some hits in as well.â
âIn self-defense because you were hitting me with your giant sword, Ike,â Soren retorted. âAnd you say that Iâm the one who likes making things difficult. You know I would have joined as soon as I knew you were here.âÂ
âEh, that wouldnât have been as much fun. I like seeing your strength, and weâve never been on separate sides before.â
âAnd never will be again, I hope,â Soren said with the air of someone willing something into existence.Â
âOf course not,â Ike said. âI would never actually fight you, Soren. You know that.âÂ
Soren huffed, but his overall demeanor calmed. âSo weâre Emblems, then. And this is not Tellius.âÂ
âElyos, itâs called.â
âHmmm,â Soren considered. âWell, we always said that we were going to leave Tellius someday. This wasnât what I expected, but I suppose it counts. Are there any otherâŠEmblems from our world?â
âNo. Several from other worlds, but none from Tellius other than the two of us.â
Soren considered this. âIâm sorry. IâŠcared for some of our companions, but not nearly as deeply as you did. You must miss them.â
Ike shrugged. âSure I do, but Iâve always believed in making the best of a tough situation. And I feel a whole lot better now that youâre here.âÂ
âHow long have you been here? InâŠElyos, right?â Soren asked.
âA few weeks, by my reckoning,â Ike said. âItâs a little hard to tell time when you disappear into a ring rather than sleeping. Or a bracelet in your case, I guess.â
Soren hummed, considering. âCan you feel pain?âÂ
âEmotional pain, sure. Physical pain? I donât think so, or at least not in the same way.âÂ
âInteresting,â Soren remarked, going quiet as he fell further into thought. Ike watched him fondly, comfortable in the silence.Â
âItâs strange,â Soren finally said. âI feel like myself, and yet I am not the ârealâ Soren. I know it, somehow. And youâre not the ârealâ Ike, although youâre as identical to him as I am to my counterpart.âÂ
âHow do you figure that?â
âIt just wouldnât make sense, otherwise. We function unlike we would if we were simply humans summoned to another world. Weâre something slightly different. I have to admit it unsettles me to think that I did not exist before the Divine Dragon awakened me.â
âIt is strange,â Ike agreed, âbut in the end, does it really matter if weâre the real Ike and Soren? Iâm not sure it does.â
âHow so?â Soren asked, brow furrowed.
âYou know Iâm no philosopher, but what makes a person other than his memories and experiences? We have all the memories of the ârealâ Ike and Soren and all the feelings and lessons that came with them. We act based on those memories and how they shaped us. So even if thereâs another version of us back in Tellius, whoâs to say weâre any less real than they are? Maybe weâre all equally real, the same people put on two different paths.â
âAre you sure?â Soren said wryly. âI donât think the Ike I know is smart enough to come up with that idea.âÂ
âBut the Soren I know wouldnât miss the chance to take that shot at me, would he?â Ike smiled. âCome on, Soren. Iâm no philosopher, but Iâm not a meathead either.â
âNot just a meathead, anyway.â Sorenâs smile would have seemed mocking to anyone else, but Ike knew there was no edge to it. âI wonder if weâŠbranched off, so to speak, at the same time. What is the last thing you remember from Tellius?â
âDo you remember all of that business with the goddess?â Ike asked, somber.
âYes,â Soren replied, âand a little ways past that as well.âÂ
Ike nodded. âWe were rebuilding. The last thing I rememberâŠitâs a little hard to recall because I have several weeks of memories here too. Oh! It was the day that Kieran tried to give himself a haircut!â
âAnd he ended up with a bald patch the size of an apple,â Soren continued.
Ike laughed. âOscar ended up having to shave his whole head. He never stopped yelling, and by the end of it his face was so red you almost couldnât see that he had no hair.âÂ
âAnd then Rolf suggested that Rhys donate some of his hair for a wig.âÂ
âRhys?â Ike frowned thoughtfully. âI thought it was Shinon.â
A modicum of the tension in Sorenâs body went slack. âIt was Shinon. I was testing to make sure we have the same memories. It seems that we do. That is the last day I remember as well.â
âAnd what a day it was. I donât think Rolf expected Shinon to be quite that mad, but heâs always been a little vain about his hair.â Ikeâs fond smile dropped as he remembered where he was.
âYou miss them, donât you?â Soren said. âI do too.â
âEven Shinon?â Ike managed a half-hearted smile.
âNo.â Sorenâs reply was so immediate and definitive that Ike couldnât help but laugh. The moment lightened, but they soon fell back into a somber silence.
âIf we have the same memories,â Soren said, finally, âdoes that mean that you rememberâŠâ he trailed off.
Ike floated a stride towards Soren, close enough to touch but not touching. âThat I love you?â he said, looking down to meet Sorenâs gaze. âOf course I do. Thatâs not the kind of thing that I could ever forget.â
The relief showed so nakedly on Sorenâs face that he would have been ashamed if anyone other than Ike could see it. âIke,â he said, the name coming out like a benediction.
âSoren.â Ikeâs voice was firm, solid, exactly the voice that Soren knew.
âBeing Emblems, there are clearly limitations,â Soren said. âYou mentioned we cannot sleep. But can weâŠtouch?â
In answer, Ike raised his hand to Sorenâs cheek. Soren leaned into it, noting that while there was a slight layer of strangeness, it came from the world, not from Ike. The hand was all Ike, all warmth and strength and rough calluses. It felt like home.
Sorenâs eyes fluttered shut. He placed his hand over Ikeâs much larger one and squeezed with surprising strength. âI didnât want to live in a world without you,â he said, equal parts vulnerable and fierce.
Ike kissed the mark on Sorenâs forehead and wrapped him in an embrace. âYouâll never have to,â he promised. Â
The Lump in Your Throat, The Ache in Your Bones (Shinon/Gatrie)
Author: legault/pinksnowboots (fic blog)
Notes: Set post Path of Radiance chapter 18, where you re-recruit Shinon.
Words: 1896
Summary: After rejoining the Greil Mercenaries, Shinon would rather drink and lick his wounds than talk to anyone, even Gatrie. Gatrie has something to say about that.
I listened to some Titus Andronicus songs about the horrors of war and of course I thought of maybe the most dysfunctional character in PoR/RD! Maybe now I should go finish the other Shinon/Gatrie fic that I started eight years ago...
Crossposted to AO3.
Gatrie finds him in a tavern after the battle. Theyâre in Daein, enemy territory, and so Gatrie really has no business being in a place where he draws so much attention as an obvious foreigner.Â
Neither does Shinon, for that matter, but heâs had enough ale not to care, and besides, wasnât he fighting with Daein not too long ago? That, his bow and arrow, and the withering glares he shoots everyone keep the other customers at bay.
All but Gatrie, who barges in and heaves himself onto the stool beside Shinon with just a little too much force, which is how Shinon knows that despite Gatrieâs perpetually amiable face, heâs angry.
Shinon doesnât look at him, although it takes far more effort than he would like to admit to keep his gaze forward when Gatrieâs face is in his peripheral vision and Gatrieâs body is close enough that he imagines that he can almost feel its gravity. âIf youâre not here to buy me another drink, then leave me alone,â Shinon snaps with all the venom he can muster. Heâs not drunk enough to lose control yet, just the right level of tipsy for his emotions to feel huge and wild enough to seep through the cracks of any control he might care to exert. Which, once he gets to this stage of the evening, usually isnât that much.
Gatrie responds by snatching the half-empty tankard out of Shinonâs hand, finishing it in a single gulp, and slamming it back on the table uncomfortably close to Shinonâs fingers.
Shinon turns toward him then. âWell done,â he says, sardonically. âNow you truly owe me another drink.âÂ
Gatrie is smiling, like always, but itâs the pinched kind of smile that Shinon knows from experience means that Gatrie is angry, angry enough that the smile is the only thing holding it all in.
âWere you planning to come talk to me?â Gatrie asks accusingly. âOr were you just planning to have a fresh start where you pretend you donât know anybody but Rolf?âÂ
âI wasnât planning anything,â Shinon snaps. âLeast of all to rejoin the Son of Greil Mercenaries.âÂ
âThen why are you here, Shinon?â Gatrieâs smile has moved from twitching to simply fading, leaving a serious look on his face as he stares searchingly at Shinon.Â
âBecause Iâm a sucker, alright? If Rolf hadnât been there, Iâd be dead on the battlefield right now, and better off for it. But I care about the kid, goddess knows why, and I couldnât let him see me die. Especially not by Ikeâs hands,â Shinon practically spits the name.Â
âThatâs not good enough, Shinon. You didnât have to rejoin us for Ike to let you live. Heâs young, but heâs honorable,â Gatrie pauses, âlike his father. He would have let you go.â
âHa!â Shinon laughs bitterly. âAnd go on living, knowing that Iâm only alive through little Ikey-wikeyâs generosity? No, I canât live like that.â
âThen what would you call this? Because from where I stand, thatâs exactly why youâre alive.âÂ
Shinon thinks about that for a moment. âAnd at least Iâm paying for the indignity by working under him. Better to live under his shackles than go free knowing I was bested by a whelp like him. At least here I can be of some use. Maybe keep an eye on Rolf from a far enough distance that I donât get my stink on him.âÂ
âAnd what about me?â Gatrie asks.
Shinon cocks his head, confused. âWhat about you?âÂ
âWe were friends, Shinon,â Gatrie says, just a little louder and rougher than usual. âWe left the Greil Mercenaries together, in case you donât remember. I didnât leave because I didnât believe in Ike. I left because you left.âÂ
His sentence hangs in the air between them, expectant, but Shinon says nothing. Gatrie looks away for a moment, gives a rueful chuckle. âDo you know what everyone said to me when I came back with Astrid?â He looks back, his eyes boring into Shinonâs. âThey said they were proud of me for finally leaving you. For breaking free of your bad influence and walking down a better path. âYou might finally make something of yourself now that heâs not holding you back, Gatrie. You may even find love.ââ
âThey were right,â Shinon says. âYou are better off without me.âÂ
âThe point is,â Gatrie continues, voice raising, âis that theyâre telling me all of this assuming that Iâm the one who left you. And what can I say to that, Shinon? âActually, I just woke up one morning and he was gone. I was worried that he was dead in a ditch somewhere because I never thought that he would just abandon me like that until I heard rumors of a mercenary fitting your description moving towards Daein, cutting swathes through bandits and taverns alike on his way.â Would that be better? So I smiled and laughed and said nothing. But it stung. Because even though they were complimenting me, they were praising me for abandoning you, which I didnât even do.â Gatrieâs voice drops low. âWhich I never would have done. And I still donât know why you did it.â
Shinon looks away, reaches for his tankard to take a sip before realizing that itâs empty. He puts it down on the counter and runs his finger along the rim, staring off into the middle distance.
After some moments, he speaks. âDo you know what Soren said to me when he saw again?âÂ
âWhat did he say?â Gatrie says. âNothing complimentary, Iâm sure.âÂ
âHe said, âTo whatever extent that you hate yourself, it isnât enough.ââ Shinonâs finger stops its journey along the tankardâs lip, its stillness only interrupted by the faintest of trembles. He looks back at Gatrie. âAnd heâs right. It isnât enough.âÂ
âIâm not sure I agree,â Gatrie says, âbut what does that have to do with you leaving?â
âDonât you get it, Gatrie? Theyâre right. Sorenâs right and Titaniaâs right and everyone who thinks you were better off without me was right. Things got worse and worse for you after we left the Greil Mercenaries, and usually it was me and my mouth or my drink to blame. You never complained, but I saw. I saw the jobs dry up, I saw the women walk away, I saw the first lines etch themselves into your forehead. So I left.â Now that heâs begun, the words continue to pour out of Shinonâs lips almost desperately. âAnd now Iâm back, and Iâm damn sorry for it, because youâre one of the only three people Iâve ever cared about and my plan was to let you live out the rest of your life without me ruining it.â
Shinon slumps just a little, deflated. Breathing hard, he avoids meeting Gatrieâs eyes.
Gatrie bursts out laughing, the hysterical kind of laughter that signals absurdity more than humor.Â
Shinon stares at him, uncomprehending. âWhatâs so funny?âÂ
Gatrie is laughing so hard that he cannot speak, which only makes Shinonâs frustration grow. Finally, Gatrie catches his breath. âYouâre so stupid, Shinon. I canât believe you thought that you could save me by leaving me.â
âWhy?â asks Shinon, aiming for sardonic, but landing closer to desperation. âBecause youâre too good, too pure, so youâre immune to my corrupting influence?âÂ
âMaybe,â Gatrie says, face suddenly serious again, all traces of laughter gone. âOr maybe itâs because the damage has already been done.â
Shinon stares.
Gatrie goes on, almost tauntingly, âWhich would you prefer, Shinon? The idea that you canât corrupt me, canât ruin me?â Gatrie leans towards him, voice lowered. âOr the idea that you already have?âÂ
Shinon shivers at the intensity in Gatrieâs normally lighthearted voice. Suddenly unable to bear the eye contact, he turns away. âDo you want the truth?â he says quietly in the direction of his tankard.Â
âShinon, look at me,â Gatrie says firmly. Shinon turns to face Gatrie, body moving before his mind can catch up. Gatrie looks at him, unblinking. Shinon doesnât blink either, though he wants desperately not only to blink but also to run away and never to make eye contact with anyone with shockingly blue eyes ever again. He tries unsuccessfully to remind himself that theyâve been in this position â sitting together in a tavern, Shinon just a little drunker than Gatrie â dozens of times before.
âI want the truth,â Gatrie breathes.
Something inside Shinon breaks. âAlright then. You want the truth?â A wretched, spiteful laugh wrenches its way out of him. âIâm a bad person, Gatrie. However much I hate myself, it truly isnât enough. But I want the second option. Youâre one of the few people in the world I can stand and I should want only the best for you, but the best for you would mean a life without me, and all I want to know that our time together has left a mark on you like a jagged, ugly scar, one that stings when itâs going to rain and reminds you that youâve been through hell and come out alive, but worse for it. Every time you talk to a beautiful woman, I want you to hear my voice pointing out all of her flaws and then all of yours, all the reasons why you can chase love all you want but youâll never catch it. I want to ruin you, Gatrie, and you donât deserve that. So I left. I didnât want to do it, but it was the one good thing Iâve ever done â first leaving the mercenaries, and then leaving you.âÂ
Shinonâs breathing is ragged, like heâs just sprinted off a battlefield with enemies behind him and arrows flying on either side. Gatrieâs breathing hasnât audibly changed, but Shinon can see his eyes darken and his throat bob. âSo,â Shinon says. âDid I make it? Or by the time I got the courage to leave, was it too late to save you?â
Gatrie reaches up a hand, ghosts it over Shinonâs cheek. âFar too late,â he says, voice husky as his hand curls around the nape of Shinonâs neck and squeezes, somewhere between possessive and threatening.Â
Shinon can feel his pulse in his throat, his veins throbbing against the warmth of Gatrieâs hand. His mouth goes dry. âGood,â he says, lifting his own hand to grasp Gatrieâs wrist, not to pull the hand away from his neck, but to hold it there as he digs his fingernails into Gatrieâs skin, hoping that it draws blood, leaves a mark.
Shinon cannot tell if he succeeds because suddenly there is another huge hand tugging his hair tie loose and then that hand is buried in his hair, pulling hard enough to be painful but he can barely notice because now Gatrieâs lips are on his with bruising force and itâs all lips and teeth and tongue and pressure and Shinon cannot move, cannot do anything but cling to Gatrieâs arms like a drowning man.
Gatrie finally pulls back, but only an inch, still close enough that Shinon can feel his breath. He does not remove his hands from Shinonâs neck or hair, but leans in, mouth against Shinonâs ear. âNow that youâre back, you can make it up to me,â Gatrie rasps, punctuating his words with pressure from the pads of his fingers against Shinonâs scalp, âby letting me ruin you.âÂ
Notes: A key feature of the Self-Indulgent AU: Boromir lives, Faramir is happy that Boromir is alive but also can't process his issues in Gondor so he moves to Rohan to work out his feelings by riding through the plains.
Words: 1197
Summary: Faramir asks Ăowyn to marry him.
Crossposted to AO3.
âShould we get married?â Faramir asked.
It sounded sudden, and it was sudden. Nothing in the situation would indicate that a proposal was forthcoming; in fact, it was quite like many other evenings in Rohan. Ăowyn and Faramir were sitting in comfortable silence in a pair of comfortable chairs arranged in front of a comfortable hearth. Faramir had, prior to asking the question, been reading a book while Ăowyn was working on a piece of embroidery. Ăomer had ripped yet another shirt, and after mending it, Ăowyn was attempting to embroider the emblem of Rohan on it and sometimes wishing to herself that the emblem of Rohan was something less complicated than a horse.
All in all, while it was a cozy scene and could have indeed been a couple who had been married for quite some time, it was not in the least a romantic scene.
Ăowyn put down her embroidery. âI beg your pardon?â She fixed Faramir with such a look of confusion mixed with a healthy dose of skepticism that he quailed under her gaze.
âI just thoughtâŠâ Faramir trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence.
âWhat did you just think?â Perhaps Faramirâs obvious discomfort had softened her, and this she said much less sharply than her prior question.
Faramir laughed ruefully. âI donât quite know, to be honest,â he said. âI suppose I thought that Iâm technically a prince and youâre the sister of the king. Iâm here at your invitation with no particular task to fulfill, and we get along quite well. There will be expectations and rumors of an alliance between Rohan and Gondor, and you are a far better companion than I could expect to find anywhere else.â He shook his head. âIt was a silly thought, nothing more.â
Ăowyn fixed him with an appraising stare and did not speak for several moments. âDo you love me?â she finally asked.
The ânoâ tumbled from his lips before he could stop it, but to his great relief, she did not look devastated, hurt, or even a little disappointed. If anything, she seemed to be faintly amused.
âWell, there you have it,â she said.
âI do love you, Ăowyn,â Faramir insisted. âYouâre one of my dearest friends and I respect you a great deal, and you are kind and fierce and beautiful. What I mean is that I am not in love with you, through no fault of your own.â
âI should hope not!â Ăowyn exclaimed. âAnd now I feel that I should clarify that I am not in love with you either, although you are a brave, capable man who sometimes has ridiculous ideas.â
âWhat I meant isâŠâ Faramir paused for a moment. âMy inclinations do not run in the direction of women.â
âAll the more reason that we should not get married, then!â
âYes, I suppose it was an absurd idea. Forgive me for bringing it up. Itâs just that weâve spoken about how worried you used to be at the idea of being forced into a marriage for political reasons and werenât sure you wanted to marry at all, so I thoughtââ
âThat you could do me a favor by providing me a safe but loveless marriage to a friend,â Ăowyn finished for him. âFaramir, Iâm not angry at you. Youâre a dear man and my dear friend, and I appreciate what you were offering, for me and for yourself. But my brother is a different kind of king, and I am not only his sister, but the Captain of his guard. I am quite confident that I can choose to marry for love, or not at all.â
âIâm pleased to hear that. Both that you are not angry with me and that you can marry or not as you please.â Faramir rested his head on his hand, weary. âI suppose part of the thought was that I donât know what Iâm doing here, or what I should do next. Up until now, Iâve always had a purpose, even if it was not a pleasant one. My father was never satisfied with me, which means that there was always something to strive for.â He gave a deep sigh. âI think that I am not very good at knowing what to do other than what people expect.â
Ăowyn came over and laid a hand on his shoulder. âI know how you feel. All my life, I did what was expected of me by the men who I loved and the people I loved, no matter how much I wanted to do differently. Or not differently, perhaps, but to do more. It chafes, doesnât it? I chose to bury my anger deep inside of me, but it seems that let yours go by telling yourself that it wasnât so bad, and perhaps what you wanted most of all was to serve your father and your kingdom. And now your father is gone, but your anger is gone too, and youâre not sure whatâs left of Faramir.â
âYou seem to understand me better than I understand myself,â Faramir said, âbut youâre right.â
âBut donât you see? We donât have to do that anymore, either of us. I can finally live as I please with a sword in my hand and the wind in my hair, and if someday I meet a man who loves that about me and I love him, then we will marry, but I will never let anyoneâs expectations tie me down again.â Ăowyn took Faramirâs face in her hands and gently lifted it. âI know what I want, and I will have it. What do you want?â
Ăowyn wrapped her arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly. âNow is the time for you to find out.â
Faramir returned the hug, and they held each other silently for a good while. Tears fell, and yet Faramir did not feel ashamed.
Finally they broke apart. âThank you, Ăowyn,â Faramir said. âYou are a better friend than I deserve.â
âYou deserve more than you think you do, Faramir,â Ăowyn said firmly. âFriendship, and freedom, and love, if you want it. I know that Gondor may be more particular about such things, but here in Rohan your inclinations are not so uncommon. Even my own brother runs in both directions. There is no shame in it.â
âI will try to remember it, truly,â Faramir said. âIt was not just the traditional ways of Gondor that made me feel strange, but also that I always knew I would have to marry as my father wished. I stopped thinking about what or who I desired because there was no point.â
âBut there is a point now, and I will keep reminding you if you forget,â Ăowyn said firmly. âI intend to always be in your life, Faramir, but as your friend, not your wife.â
A tightness dissolved in Faramirâs chest, and he couldnât help but laugh at the sudden feeling of lightness, the sudden absence of a shame so tightly coiled around his innards for so long that he had forgotten he wasnât born with it already there.
Samwise Gamgee's Guide to Protecting Mr. Frodo at Parties
Author: legault/pinksnowboots (fic blog)
Notes: I am over a month late for @samfrosummer, but the prompts were so delightful that I had to write fics for them anyway. This is for the Day 1 prompt: large gatherings
Words: 2110
Summary: Frodo finds a curiously-named booklet next to the bed he shares with Sam.
Read on AO3 (there's wonky formatting and bulleted lists - Sam is very thorough when it comes to protecting Frodo! - which I cannot easily copy over directly into this post.)
âI remember when I very first played Garak, I played him gay! I thought this would be great! He sees this young man, this young, very attractive doctor on the station, he is lonely, he is the only Cardassian there, this doctor is curious about him, and if you remember, this was a great moment because Sid totally went with it! When he comes up and he puts his hand on his shoulder, Sid did this great thing, it was this sort of an electrical charge that went through him and so I played him totally gay in that episode.
Of course the producers did not actually tell me not to play him gay but then they started writing him a little more macho and more like a Cardassian. But I said, âListen, one of the great things about Garak is that he is not Gul Dukat, he is not one of those macho, militaristic guys, he is your finesse Cardassian.â So we struck a compromise but I was always very clear. I did not get into it in the book. Quite frankly, I was going to go in that direction. I had written a whole thing about Garakâs sexuality because I felt that Garak was sort of - talk about bisexual, I think that he was multisexual, essentially that anything that moves is fair game for Garak. He has a voracious sexual appetite.â
I canât believe that Andy was so powerful they had to nerf his take on Garakâs sexuality on the show and in the book and yet Garak is still so clearly fucking queer!
Notes: A key feature of the Self-Indulgent AU: Boromir lives, Faramir is happy but also can't process his issues in Gondor so he moves to Rohan to work out his feelings by riding through the plains.
Words: 2260
Summary: Faramir visits the hobbits in the Shire. They talk about homesickness and the meaning of home.
Crossposted to AO3.
âAre you homesick after such a long journey?â Pippin asked Faramir.
The three of themâFaramir, Pippin and Merryâwere sitting at the kitchen table at Bag End on a sunny Shire morning. Faramirâs knees knocked up against the bottom of the table and his head reached uncomfortably close to the ceiling light, but he managed to fit, both physically and metaphorically, and thatâs what really matters. Size aside, he was an honored and invited guest, and Bag End is always eager to open her doors to guests.
Or in this case, Pippin is always eager to open Bag Endâs doors to guests. When he wrote to Faramir to invite him to visit the Shire, one would assume that he would be inviting the man to his own place of residence at Crickhollow, but Peregrin Took, as usual, defies all assumptions. Only when he received a letter in response informing him that Faramir was traveling their way did he march up to Bag End and inform Frodo that he and Sam would soon be hosting Merry and Pippin, plus one man of Gondor.
In any case, Frodo, having inherited some of his uncleâs love of entertaining, and Sam, perhaps the most obliging hobbit to ever inhabit the Shire, accepted this good-naturedly. They had pushed two hobbit-sized beds together in the second-nicest bedroom to make a roughly man-sized bed that Faramir had collapsed into when he arrived the night before, and even now the gracious hosts were outside in the garden picking fresh produce for lunch, dinner, and supper, leaving Merry and Pippin inside chatting with Faramir as they picked at the remnants of second breakfast.
âHomesick?â Faramir said thoughtfully. âI quite enjoyed the journey, in fact. It has been a long time since Iâve traveled far without a threat hanging over my head. But now that Iâve arrived, as lovely as the Shire is, I suppose I feel a bit homesick.â He quirked his lips in a small smile. âMost of all when I knock my head into one of Bag Endâs many doorways.â
âYes, that makes sense. The doorways in Minas Tirith are much taller than this, you know,â Pippin declared to Merry with the air of someone holding forth on a topic in which they are an expert.
Merry gave him a scathing look, âPip, Iâve been to Minas Tirith before. We were in Minas Tirith together. I know that the great city of men has man-sized doors.â
âActually,â Faramir interjected. âI was thinking more of Rohan.â
âRohan?â Pippin asked, confused.
âOh, I must have neglected to mention,â Faramir said. âIâm living in Rohan now.â
As if on cue, Merryâs âWhat?â burst out in tandem with Pippinâs second, equally confused, âRohan?â
âYes, Rohan. Iâve been living there for several months now.â
âSo let me get this straight,â Merry said. âYou left Gondor?â
âAye,â Faramir said evenly.
âAnd furthermore, left Gondor entirely, never mind that itâs where your miraculously-not-dead brother and the legendary returned king rule?â
âAye.â
âDespite the fact that Aragorn literally made you a prince in Gondor?â
âAye, despite that.â Faramir seemed amused at Merryâs increasing frustration at trying to absorb a new piece of information that just did not logically fit. Pippin, for his part, was truly lost.
âAnd, leaving that great kingdom of men, decided to relocate to Rohan, a country where you have almost no ties?â
âYou seem to have the shape of it, Master Meriadoc,â Faramir said.
Just then, Sam and Frodo came into the kitchen with a basket overflowing with fruits and vegetables. Sam set them on the counter and began washing strawberries as Frodo slid into the seat beside Merry.
âWhat are you lot talking about that has you gaping like a fish, Merry?â Frodo asked.
âOh, heâs just found out about my relocation to Rohan,â said Faramir.
âOh, just that?â Frodo said as he accepted a strawberry from Sam, who had placed most of the berries in a bowl but separated out a few of the juiciest for Frodo. âThatâs old news, Merry.â
Merry turned to glare at Frodo, betrayed. âYou knew?â
âCourse we knew,â Sam brought the rest of the berries to the table and sat down beside Frodo. âBoromir told us in one of his letters.â
âWell, leaving aside the fact that Pip and I have been thoroughly left out of the loop,â Merry huffed. âI still want to know why.â He fixed Faramir with a suspicious look. âAre you courting Ăowyn?â
Faramir laughed, âNo, although she is a dear friend of mine, and the one who invited me to stay when we were both recovering in the Houses of Healing. She sends her best regards to you, Master Merry.â
At that, Merry flushed a pleased pink.
Faramir continued, âIf I felt that I had to wed a woman, she would be a fine choice, but that would not be fair to either her or me, as my preferences do not tend in that direction, and marriage would quite limit her activities as Captain of the Rohirrim.â
Pippin, who had finally stopped gaping and seemed to have accepted the overall situation, asked, âThen why leave Gondor? You are the Prince of Ithilien.â
âYes, it was very kind of King Elessar to create that title for me, especially as the position of Steward rightfully returned to my brother once we knew he was alive,â Faramir smiled a wistful smile. âBut between the steward and the king, Gondor is run well, and while they would accept my counsel, neither Gondor nor Ithilien truly has need of a prince.â He paused to pluck a strawberry from the bowl, neatly biting off the fruit from the leaves, which he placed carefully on the plate Sam had laid out for that purpose. âThese are lovely, Sam. Besides, I found after all was said and done that war, even a victorious war, can change things, and somehow my home no longer felt like the home it was before.â
Instinctively, all three hobbits turned concerned looks to Frodo. Frodo smiled reassuringly as he clasped Samâs hand, which was inching its way towards Frodoâs almost of its own accord. âPeace, my friends,â Frodo said, giving Samâs hand a squeeze. âI admit that I know the feeling of which he speaks, but I am not going anywhere. The Shire is not the same home that I left on that fateful day, but thanks to all of youâespecially you, Sam,â at this, Frodo fixed Sam with a smile so tender that everyone else at the table had the distinct feeling that they were intriguing upon a very private moment. ââI have found that this Shire is a place where I can build a new sort of home.â
âWeâre always a bit afraid that Frodo is going to up and bolt one of these days,â Pippin said to Faramir in a sotto voice.
âYouâre not getting rid of Sam and me that easily, Pippin!â Frodo said with a smile, effectively breaking the tension that had fallen upon the group. âAnd weâve gotten off topic. We were discussing our honored guest.â
Faramir returned Frodoâs nod, admiring the way that he elegantly steered the conversation. âGoing back to your earliest question, Master Peregrin, I find myself a bit homesick, but strangely enough it is for Rohan more than Gondor.â
âWhatâs Rohan like?â Pippin asked eagerly, earlier tension all but forgotten in light of his curiosity and the strawberries heâd been steadily popping into his mouth. âIâve never seen it.â
âThatâs right, you were whisked off by Gandalf straight to Minas Tirith because of all that business with the palantirââ Merry started, before being interrupted.
âYou know I donât like to be reminded of that!â said Pippin, indignant. âIt was a moment of weakness, and could have happened to anyone.â
Merry gave his cousin a look, but let it pass.
âIâd love to hear about Rohan too, Master Faramir,â Sam said, speaking for the first time since the thought of Frodo leaving had struck them all. He was still gripping Frodoâs hand tightly and had scooted his chair a smidge closer to the other hobbit to where their sides were pressed together, but his voice reflected only the eager curiosity of a young hobbit who loved stories. âMr. Frodo and I never made it out that way neither.â
âItâs beautiful, Sam.â Faramir said. âJust as Minas Tirith could not be known as anything but The White City, Meduseld truly is The Golden Hall. And all of Rohan is golden, Meduseld and Edoras and the wide plains it overlooks, where the grass is more yellow than green and in the wind blowing across its stalks you can always feel the vibrations of hoofbeats. Minas Tirith with all its walls and towers is a place that invites you in and bids you stay, but Edoras calls for you to come out and revel in Rohanâs expanses, knowing that there will always be a place for you to return no matter how far your horses roam.â
âIt sounds a little intimidating at that,â said Sam, who had never been comfortable in wide open spaces where almost all the plants were the same height and species and there was no convenient hole or rock to dunk into or behind if needed, a tendency that had only become more pronounced over the course of their quest.
âSome find it so, aye,â Faramir said. âBut I always felt stifled in Gondor, by the walls, by my father, by all the expectations I could never really reach. As soon as I learned to ride, I started to have dreams of galloping away from Minas Tirith and not stopping until the city disappeared behind me so thoroughly I couldnât find it if I tried. On the plains of Rohan, I can ride until I forget my own name, and yet I always find my way back to Edoras in time.â He paused and then added, softly, âand Minas Tirith is always there for me to find. I could never truly lose it.â
Faramir shook his head gently, turning his attention back outward as he continued, âBut perhaps you would prefer Edoras itself, Master Sam. The gardens are not quite so rich as they are here in The Shire, but there are some plants Iâd wager you havenât seen before, and the people of Rohan are clever in growing plants that can be eaten by both human and horse, although the humans tend to prefer meat. And they have the most beautiful music! The sound of the fiddles of Rohan pull across your chest like a sudden breeze of crisp autumn air, equal parts yearning and pride and then yearning again. The people of Rohan know how to yearn! But they also know how to celebrate, even if all there is to celebrate is that in their harshly beautiful land they have carved out a space with music to be played and beer to be drunk among trusted companions, both two-legged and four-legged.â
âIt sounds like it suits you well,â Frodo observed.
âSo far, it does,â Faramir said. âIâve always had a bit of a knack for yearning, it seems.â
âYouâre not the only one,â Sam said, speaking to Faramir but exchanging a smile with Frodo.
âYou are all invited to visit, of course!â Faramir addressed all the hobbits now. âRohan is still rebuilding after the great losses at Helmâs Deep and Pelennor Fields, but the people love and trust the king and his sister, and rebuilding need not all be hard labor and yearning for a lost generation. And Iâm sure Ăowyn would be thrilled to see you again, Merry.â
âWould you teach me to ride, Faramir?â Pippin asked. âWhen we come to Rohan, I mean?â
Faramir laughed at the hobbitâs eagerness. âPerhaps if we can find a small enough horse, or a pony, but you can ride with me at any rate. Truly the one who should teach you is Ăomer. Iâve been riding horses since I was a lad, and yet I have become ten times the rider I once was since riding with him!â
âYouâre rather familiar with the king,â Merry observed. âOn a first name basis, even. What would Ăomer-king think about that?â
âWould I ask you to address me as Prince Faramir, Merry?â Faramir responded quickly enough, although a faint blush rose to his cheeks. âWe are friends and companions, just as Ăomer and I are.â He pushed himself to his feet, narrowly avoiding knocking his head quite hard into the ceiling lamp. âWhile I must thank you for a wonderful conversation and two delightful breakfasts, I seem to recall Pippin mentioning taking me on a tour through Buckland. Put me to work clearing these dishes so that we can be on our way. After such a long trip, I am eager to see more of The Shire.â
So Bag End once again echoed with the cozy clinking noises of too many people attempting to tidy up a rather large breakfast, and then with cheerful song as Frodo and Sam taught Faramir an old Dwarfish song about chipping and cracking all the plates and cups that they had learned from Bilbo when they were children, and Faramir reflected briefly that as the wistful music of Rohan held both pride and yearning, this ditty also coaxed twin emotions out of his chestâboth contentment and deep pangs of homesickness, for Rohan and all it encompassed, and for his brother, living (Living! Sometimes that was still hard to remember.) far away in a land that was and was not home.
Summary: Ăomer and Ăowyn discuss the weight of leading Rohan forward.
Crossposted to AO3.
In the days following Ăomerâs coronation, it had become harder for Ăomer and Ăowyn to find time to simply talk as siblings. There was always so much work to be done and numbers of people who needed the king or his sister, but occasionally they were able to slip away and share their troubles.
On one such occasion, they were in Ăomerâs quarters in the late evening, sitting and looking at the stars outside the window. While Ăowyn tucked herself neatly into her chair, Ăomer sprawled across his, wearily taking off the crown and dropping it onto the floor beside him.
âThe crown is heavy, sister,â Ăomer said. âOur uncle taught us well, but I was never prepared to rebuild our kingdom from a state like this.â
âIt is a challenging time for Rohan, to be sure,â Ăowyn agreed. âIn a way we are lucky that you were sent away with the Rohirrim loyal to you, else we may have lost all of our men rather than just most.â
âA poor consolation,â Ăomer heaved a sigh. âI often feel the shame of not dying with them at Helmâs Deep. Every day, I see girls without fathers, women without sons. A generation of Rohanâs boys, gone before we could save them.â
âĂomer,â Ăowyn said gently. âYou did all that you could. When our uncle sent you away in his madness, you could not resist. When we needed you, you came as fast as you could. It is not your fault.â
âThe battlefield is no place for a boy.â
âNor a woman, nor a hobbit, as Iâve been told many a time,â Ăowyn said, with the tone of someone referencing a well-trod argument. âAnd yet were we not there, the Witch-King of Angmar would still be alive. Sometimes we are called to fight beyond our station. If it were not for the heroic sacrifice of those young boys, we would never have held Helmâs Deep until your arrival.â
âYou are wise, sister. Sometimes I think that you should have been king instead of me.â
âIf it were me, wouldnât I be the queen?â
âThe king is the one who takes care of all of his people. A queen supports her king. You would deserve to be recognized as the one holding the burden, not just another woman in a supporting role.â Ăomer said. âI know you have been pushed into that role far too much in your life.â
âYou flatter me, brother. And yet I would not have the crown, king or queen. I love our people, but I have spent my whole life caring for them and those who protect them, and I am ready to be the one doing the protecting.â Ăowynâs mouth quirked into a small smile. âI would much rather have the Captaincy of the Rohirrim, a position so conveniently left empty by your ascension. â
âThen you shall have it. Ăowyn, daughter of Ăomund and Theodwyn, slayer of the Witch-King of Angmar, Shieldmaiden of Rohan and Captain of the Rohirrim.â Ăomer pushed himself to his feet only to kneel before his sister. âIt is no less than what you deserve.â
Eyes shining, Ăowyn stood and grabbed the crown from where it lay on the floor, kneeling as she placed it on her brotherâs head. âIt will be my honor to protect and serve you, Ăomer King. My brother.â
The siblings fell into a tight embrace and let themselves lean against one another, exhausted but grateful to move forward into the new age of Rohan with someone to share the weight.
Notes: I play fast and loose with canon because I love happy hobbits. Other than that it's just pure fluff.
Words: 670
Summary: The first time Frodo finds true joy in anything other than Sam is when he tells his stories to the children of Hobbiton. Eventually, he starts to write some of his own.
Crossposted to AO3.
Sam was elbow deep in dirt in the garden when he heard Frodo call his name. He couldnât help starting at the sound; old habits die hard, and although it sounded like a happy call, he couldnât fully relax until he saw Frodo bounding out the door with a sheaf of paper in his hand and the kind of joyful smile on his face that for so long, Sam had feared was gone forever.
âWhat is it, Mr. Frodo?â Sam pushed himself to his feet and brushed the dirt extra off his hands before walking over to Frodo. He felt himself smiling reflexively and marveled again for the millionth time at how his connection with Frodo could tug at his heart with worry or pure affection so hard that he was afraid it might snap, but at the same time gave him the purest sense of calm heâd ever known.
âI told another story to the children,â Frodo said excitedly as they walked into the kitchen. âBut this time, instead of one of Bilboâs stories, or a piece of our stories, it was one that I wrote myself. And Sam, they loved it!â
âThatâs wonderful!â Sam said. âEver since I was a wee lad, I loved to hear your stories. Youâve got a knack for storytelling, and apparently story writing too.â
Frodo smiled at the compliment. âIâd like you to read it, Sam.â A slight blush rose on his cheeks. âI would read it aloud to you, but for some reason Iâm nervous.â
âYou have nothing to be nervous about, Frodo. I would never judge you.â Sam went over to the sink to wash and dry his hands before taking the papers from Frodo. âBut Iâm happy to read it to myself.â
Sam settled in one of Bag Endâs oversized and incredibly plush armchairs to read. Frodo hovered over his shoulder before finally perching on the arm of the chair, although as soon as he did so Sam absentmindedly looped an arm around Frodoâs waist as he read and soon enough Frodo was halfway squished between Sam and the chairâs arm and halfway on Samâs lap. He settled there with the ease of someone who found himself in that position often, but kept fidgeting with his fingers until Sam finished reading and placed the papers gently on the side table.
âWell?â Frodo prompted.
âMr. Frodo, itâs a wonderful story.â Sam turned to him, eyes wide. âBut you flatter me too much. I mean, Samwise the Brave? No one will believe that kind of hero.â
âBut they did, Sam! The children loved Samwise the Brave.â Frodo adjusted his shoulders to face Sam and take his hands. âAnd so do I.â
âI donât deserve it, Mr. Frodo.â
âSam!â Frodo squeezed his hands to punctuate his statement. âYou deserve all this and more. Youâre the bravest person I know, hobbit or man or elf. The real challenge was choosing only one name for the character. It could be Samwise the Brave, or Samwise the Steadfast, Samwise the Wise, Samwise the Strong. I could never capture all that you are in just one story, but you will always be my hero.â
Sam reached up a hand to cup Frodoâs cheek, staring awestruck at the other hobbit. âFrodoâŠâ
Frodo caught Samâs larger hand in both of his as he leaned into the touch. âSamwise who has hands which are strong and broad and gentle.â He turned his hand to kiss Samâs palm. âSamwise who loves me too earnestly and too well.â Finally, he turned to face Sam again. âSamwise who has and will always have my whole heart.â
Sam pulled Frodo in for a proper kiss. âI could never love you too well, but I will never stop trying.â
Frodo broke away smiling another true smile. âSo I can write more stories about Samwise the Brave?â
âAs long as I get to read them,â Sam said, pulling Frodo fully into his arms. âBeing part of your story is the best thing I have ever done.
Warnings: None that I can think of? Canon divergence, potential liberal interpretations of characters, incredibly rare rarepairs involving Ranulf (not to give anything away because itâs not in this part yet, but there may be Ranulf/Stefan involved in part 2)
Words: 2266
Summary: Ranulf gets burnt out on war, and on Skrimir, and heads to the desert to find his definition of honor.
Itâs a day (almost two days) late and only the first part of what should be a two-parter, BUT this is for Day 2 of @telliusweek2017, for the prompts: Gallia/Instinct/Honor/Passion.
Crossposted to AO3
Ranulf had never thought that anyone would call him the voice of reason in a group, but somehow, after the Mad Kingâs War he ends up becoming a professional Voice of Reason for the one and only heir to the Gallian throne.
Well, technically heâs a sub-commander in the Gallian army, but everyone knows what his real job is.
Summary: Shinon runs away from all his problems, but, as problems tend to do, they all come back to find him.
This one is very Shinon-centric, so if you were hoping for more Gatrie...I apologize, BUT this is getting me one step closer to the end, which I promise has plenty of Gatrie!
(Also I meant to post this in time for @telliusweek2017, but as usual, Iâm a little late. Whoops.)
Also read on AO3
Shinon wakes up the next morning, hair tangled, breath stale, and head pounding.
And more importantly, he wakes up in an alleyway, alone.
Itâs been a long time since heâs been able to consistently drink enough to forget what happens while heâs drunk, so the previous night bursts behind his eyes in full technicolor.
âShit.â Shinon curses as he flings an arm over his eyes, trying to pretend for just five more minutes that things are ok.
He only makes it two minutes before getting restless, so he mentally squares his shoulder and pushes himself up.
âWell, this has got to be a new record for rock bottom.â He mumbles to himself, as he sets off, with no idea where heâs going.Â
Looking for work as a pair of guildless mercenaries is hard enough, but itâs nothing compared to looking for work as a single guildless mercenary who just happens to have no money, no possessions, and a terrible tendency to alienate the people around him.
Still, after dragging himself from tavern to tavern and loitering in the hopes of getting a lead on a job, he finally finds someone who needs hands quickly, and doesnât look twice at the fact that Shinon is a mess. The pay is terrible, and the bow they give him is worthless compared to what heâs used to, but it gives him something to do.
It turns out that heâs basically getting paid to get involved in a turf war between two groups of small-time bandits. Itâs exactly the kind of job he would have passed over when traveling with Gatrie, because itâs messy and dangerous and not all that moral, but one of Shinonâs strengths and weaknesses is his lax moral standards. Morals donât pay for a room and a pint of ale, but roughing it with bandits pays for at least a bed, and they give him disgusting home-brewed mead for free after it becomes clear that heâs the most talented of the bunch.
They run the other group of bandits off fairly quickly, but the fact that Shinon is a tier above the rest of the bandits ensures that he gets another job. And another, and another, and eventually heâs able to jump from bandits to slightly more professional mercenary groups. Their morals are just as loose as bandits, but they dress better and their booze is much more palatable.
The jobs start getting better paid too, and Shinon is able to buy a bow thatâs at least slightly better. More importantly, heâs able to buy strong enough alcohol to distract him from his occasional pangs of loneliness, to banish his visions: of Gatrie, mostly, but also of Greil, of Rhys and Titania, even of little Rolf.
But those visions are useless, and he chases them away with alcohol while also chasing away anyone who might have thought to befriend him.
Eventually his jobs shift from acting as extra manpower for bandit turf wars to things that seem a little bigger, more well-funded, and more politically motivated. Shinonâs policy is that as long as heâs getting paid, he doesnât ask questions, but he canât help but wonder idly what exactly is happening to Tellius.
The strangest is when he gets hired by a crew that is half Daein soldiers and half Ravens. Itâs something that he would have never guessed heâd see, Daein and Kilvas working together, especially since the average citizen of Daein tended to hate laguz as much as Shinon did, or more.
Still, who he was working with and why fell under the âDonât ask questions as long as you get paidâ category, even if it involved laguz. At the very least they were birds, and Shinon felt a little bit of comfort knowing that if it came down to him against the ravens, the odds were in his favor as long as he could get the first shot off.
Or at least thatâs what he thought before seeing them in action. Sure, if he got the first shot off, he could take most of them down, but if they got to him first, he was toast. In a one-on-one battle, the odds would be about even, depending on who was faster. Unfortunately, of all the laguz, the birds were some of the fastest.
If Gatrie were still here, thereâd be no question of who would win.
The thought pops uninvited into his head, and he tries to shoo it away with a twinge of annoyance. It was frustrating enough already that he missed the big oaf, and he didnât need to be reminded that from a purely strategic standpoint, it was better to have Gatrie around than not.
Luckily, the battle started, and as soon as the first enemy moved into range, Shinon shifted into the altered headspace that he only found during a battle, with all other irrelevant thoughts-of laguz, of feelings, of Gatie-drifting easily away.
Was it ironic to feel most at peace in the middle of war? Probably, but that was just another irrelevant thought that didnât last long, quickly subsumed by the rhythmic sequence of aim, pull, fire, reload, aim...
Right in the midst of reloading his bow, Shinonâs focus became momentarily and violently shaken when he saw a familiar looking figure coming into view, a little behind the stumbling soldier who he had just clipped with his arrow.
Just like Ike, charging into battle first, with no thought of how fucked his little band would be if he was cut down.
The thought, and the accompanying spike of disdain were so automatic that it took Shinonâs mind a second to pause and catch on.
Wait, Ike?
Goddess damnit.
It made sense, in a karmic way. Heâd abandoned Ikeâs mercenaries, and run away from Gatrie, and now at least one of the people heâd left was coming back to get him.
It made sense logically too. If the continent was really getting embroiled in a proper war, Ike was just stupid and noble enough to get himself at the center of it.
Practically speaking, nothing changed. Ike was there, but he was on the other side, and well, this is what heâd always idly imagined would happen anyway, wasnât it? One of them would end up dying, maybe by the otherâs hand.
As satisfying as it would be to be the one to put an arrow in the kid, Shinon valued self-preservation over self-satisfaction, and fighting Ike would probably be more skewed in Ikeâs favor than Shinon would like to deal with, especially with his concentration already shot to hell.
So when Ike headed away from him, still oblivious to Shinonâs presence on the battlefield, Shinon breathed a sigh of relief
It didnât last long though, because behind Ike came the rest of the motley crew; almost everyone he recognized, and some people he didnât. It figured that Ike would keep picking up strays along the way.
But among the unfamiliar faces, Shinon picked out a flash of familiar armor.
Gatrie.
Gatrie wasnât supposed to be with them. Heâd left the group when Shinon had, following him without question, but now here he was, and the sight struck Shinon dumb, unable to move.
Shinon had known what being a mercenary was about, and had embraced it. With the exception of a few of the younger members, he had considered the possibility that he would have to fight against every one of his comrades, and had found that if it came down to it, he would have very little trouble choosing his life over any of theirs.
Except Gatrie. No matter how hard he had though, he had never truly considered that he and Gatrie might someday be on opposite sides. It was simply inconceivable, as much of a violation of the way the world worked as a river flowing upstream.
Luckily, Gatrie didnât appear to see Shinon, and for the first time, Shinon thanked the goddess for the fact that Gatrieâs armor severely limited his peripheral vision.
Unluckily, as he was standing there gaping, the little cluster of healers and archers at the back seem to have noticed him, and before he knew it two broke away from the group and made a beeline straight for him. A redhaired man in priestâs robes-Rhys, Shinon deduced-tried to call them back. The girl, who was almost certainly Mist, hesitated for a moment before eventually returning when Shinon raised his bow in her direction, but the boy ignored his calls and continued heading towards Shinon.
Shinon didnât need to wait until he came closer to know that it had to be Rolf.
âShinon?â The boy called out in disbelief, completely oblivious to the fact that yelling on a battlefield when youâve just broken away from the main body of your allies is an incredibly stupid thing to do.
âRolf...â Shinon began, a lecture automatically forming in his head.
âShinon!â Rolf yelled, cutting him off as he reached Shinon. âIt really is you!â
The lecture died behind Shinonâs lips at the genuine happiness in Rolfâs voice.
âLook at you. Youâve grown so much.â Shinon found himself saying, noting that Rolf had grown a few inches in the months that heâd left. âYou actually look like an archer.â
âReally?â Rolf says, as bashful and delighted as he always was at receiving a compliment from Shinon.
â You always did have what it takes.â Shinon tells him. âIt's just like I told you--you train the right way, and you'll surpass both your brothers.â
Not that your brothers set a particularly high bar. He add silently.
âI had a good teacher.â Rolf says, still beaming.
âYeah, you did.â Shinon says, unable to suppress a little smile. He never planned on teaching anyone, but Rolf had a raw talent that deserved to be nurtured, and more importantly, an enthusiasm that wore even Shinon down eventually.
âYou havenât told anyone else about that, have you?â Shinon adds. Just because Rolfâs childish joy turned him into a little bit of a sap didnât mean he was ok with anyone else knowing about it.
âNope. Never said a word.â Rolf shakes his head, earnestly. âI keep my promises.â
âGood man.â
Rolf laughs, caught off-guard at being addressed as a man, before his delight changes to worry. âUm...Shinon?â
âWhat?â
âAre you...â Rolf hesitates. âWith the enemy?â
Shinon answers quickly, because itâs the only way he can get it out without revealing any of the pesky emotions he feels poking at him. âYep.â
Rolfâs face falls, a complete contrast to his delight at first seeing Shinon, and Shinon sees his lip start to tremble.
âStop that.â Shinon tells him. âI told you that things like this happen.â Did you forget?â
âBut...itâs not...â Rolf is full-on blubbering on the battlefield now, and Shinon is torn between annoyance and discomfort. âItâs...not...fair...â
If he keeps carrying on like this, the kidâs going to get both of them killed, so Shinon hardens his voice to the one that makes the nice girls that Gatrie likes glare at him.
âReady your bow. It's time for the pupil to face his master.â
Rolf looks at him, uncomprehending.
âI mean it kid.â Shinon raises his bow for emphasis, but doesnât truly draw it yet. âYou better fight me or get out of here, and you have about ten seconds to choose.â
Rolf looks at Shinon, then looks at his own bow, and finally heads back towards the army. He glances back at Shinon every few seconds as if expecting to be shot in the back, but he doesnât need to worry. Rolf may very well die today, but Shinon would rather not be the one to deal the blow.
The battle is a hard one for both sides, and although most of Ikeâs company must know that heâs here by now, for the most part heâs shooting at people he doesnât know.
But then eventually, Ike comes into view.
Shinon gets off two arrows before Ike gets close enough to counterattack, but heâs been off the whole battle, and neither of them are lethal blows. Although, Shinon notes with vindictive pleasure, they force Ike to start favoring his left leg.
Shinonâs played this battle out in his head dozens of times, and he knows that in close quarters Ike always wins. Ikeâs probably going to win this time, if itâs a fair fight.
âLook, itâs little Ike!â Shinon calls, taunting. The only way heâs going to win is by throwing Ike off his game, and the two arrows helped, but it canât hurt to try to shake him mentally too.
The best method would be to put an arrow or two in Soren, but unfortunately, for once Soren is not trailing behind Ike like a shadow.
âI always knew it would come to this, Ike.â Shinon says as Ike comes into range, drawing another arrow as he speaks.
âShinon...â Ike says, and Shinon sees that despite everything, Ike would like to forgive him, and the fact fills him with anger.
âWatch yourself!â He snaps, and fires, this time hitting Ike in the arm.
The pain snaps Ike out of whatever sappy fantasy he had of convincing Shinon to join Ikeâs little fanclub mercenary band, and he charges.
Shinon does his best, but heâs not good in close quarters, and itâs over embarrassingly quickly as Ike, who at the very least is bleeding from several arrow wounds, lands a solid blow on Shinonâs left side that brings him to the ground.
âCurses...â Shinon grits out, instinctively clutching at the wound.
âDonât move.â Ike is standing over him, but he doesnât deliver the final blow. âYouâll tear the wound wide open.â
âWhat...â Shinon grunts. âAre you planning? Do it now. Finish me.â
Ike says nothing, just looks at him in...contemplation? Pity? Disgust?
âHa,â Shinon barks out a laugh, which sends a wave of pain through his side. âIdiot...â
Shinon isnât sure what happens after that, because he starts to drift in and out of consciousness, and in his half-conscious state, he registers that Ike is no longer there.
His thoughts are drifting in and out of coherence as well, half-formed thoughts meshing with wordless pain and slivers of emotions he couldnât identify if he tried.
...stupid...stupid way to live...stupider way to die...
...fuckup. just like...
...hope Rolf...didnât...
...at least...wasnât...Gatrie...
Shinon comes completely back to consciousness some time later, surprised to see Rhys and Ike standing over him rather than...whatever might happen to good-for-nothing snipers who get themselves killed in battle.
âShinon.â Ike starts.
âHa!â Shinon cuts him off, still half-delirious. âI can't believe that the one who defeats me is little lord Ikie. Looks like I've lost my edge. I'm ready, boy. Go on. Finish what you started.â
Rhys looks at Ike, who nods, signalling that Rhys can leave, taking what looks like a mend staff and an empty vulnerary with him.
Ike turns back to Shinon. âCome back to the company.â
âI donât think so.â
âYou've never liked me. As far back as I can remember, you have never liked me.â Ike says, and itâs not a question, just a fact.
"Thatâs right.â Shinon confirms, because heâs already almost dead, so thereâs no harm in digging his own grave when heâs already lying in it. âStill donât.â
âYou called me a weakling.â Ike continues. âSaid I was nothing without the help of my father. That's what you said, right? That's why you hated me.â
Honestly, at this point Shinon doesnât even remember why he started to hate Ike, but the fact that Ike seems to want his approval even now isnât helping his case. Gatrie and Rolf aside, Shinon finds earnest people distasteful.
âSounds like me.â Shinon hedges, because itâs a lot easier to say than I was half-way in love with your father and I resented you for having his love and living when he died and not being the failure that I wanted you to be.
âDon't you get it?â Ike says, looking at Shinon like heâs stupid. âI just beat you. So your reasons don't hold water anymore, do they?â
Shinonâs reasons never really held water, but Ike doesnât need to know that.
âPah! It's enough you beat me, now you gotta talk me to death?â
Ike sighs. âI'll say it once more. Come back to the company. I acknowledge your abilities. As commander, I want you with us.â
Honestly, itâs starting to look like a tempting prospect, especially considering the other choice is bleeding to death on the battlefield.
Well, maybe not quite bleeding to death, because it seems like Rhys might have healed the worst of his wounds. But still, it would involve laying around with corpses and then starting again from scratch as a lone mercenary, and the Greil Mercenaries (or had they officially become the Ike Mercenaries by this point?) had tents and food and probably booze, and even though most of them surely hated his guts, at least Gatrie and Rolf would probably forgive him. Eventually.
âLet's have another go around.â Shinon says, wincing as he pushes himself to his feet. âI win, and I'm commander. Agreed?â
Ike looks at him, incredulous.
âAgreed?â Shinon repeats. Of course heâs going to lose, and he wouldnât even want to be commander if there were a chance of it. But heâll be damned if he admits that heâs crawling back to the Ike Fan Club Mercenaries with his tail between his legs, so heâs got to put up at least a token fight.
Finally Ike gets with the program, nodding. âI win, and you fall in line. Agreed?â
Shinon nods. He has no intention of docilely âfalling in line,â but at the very least he wonât storm off or try to kill Ike again, and thatâs pretty much what Ike wants anyway.
âDonât worry.â Shinon says, cocky to the last. âIâll make it quick.â
Shinon does make it quick, landing few token arrows on Ikeâs armor and then going down immediately as soon as Ikeâs sword makes contact with his armor. Sure, Shinon hates losing, but he hates flesh wounds even more.
âI yield.â Shinon holds his hands up, and Ike takes one of them, pulling him to his feet.
âWelcome back.â Ike says, and he seems to mean it.
âYeah yeah.â Shinon says. âNow, where can I find the booze?â
Coming back to the Greil Mercenaries (turns out they hadnât changed the name to Ikeâs Massive Fucking Fanclub. Yet.) was not the most pleasant experience Shinon had ever had. But that was to be expected, especially considering heâd basically stormed out in a hissy fit and taken their best knight with him.
Actually, it was refreshing how little had changed. He still didnât like most of the people there, and they still didnât like him. Just like it was supposed to be.
Some people expressed happiness at his return, and some of them, like Titania and Rhys, actually meant it. Rolf started crying again and despite his best efforts, Shinon couldnât help but feel a little bit guilty. Being a dick to adults was one thing, but the kid was another.
âHey,â Shinon told him, patting him awkwardly on the shoulder. âIâm back now kid, quit crying.â
Rolf just sniffled harder and, to Shinonâs surprise, hugged him.
âHey now, Rolf.â Shinon said, unsure what exactly was happening but uncomfortable with it nonetheless. âHey, itâs ok.â
When nothing appeared to be working, Shinon leaned down and hissed in Rolfâs ear. âQuite crying and let go of me and Iâll make you a new bow.â
Immediately, Rolf jumped off of him and smiled. âThank you Uncle Shinon!â
âYeah yeah, now scram. You donât want to be hanging around bad influences like me.â
Rolf headed back towards his brothersâ tent, still smiling.
âAnd donât call me Uncle!â Shinon called after him.
Some people were not quite as happy to see him again, like Boyd, who pulled a face as soon as he saw Shinon walk into camp. Or Soren, who seemed personally offended that Ike had let Shinon back into the fold.
âThought you got rid of me, did you?â Shinon taunted after being glared at by Soren. Soren glaring was not a rare occurrence, but neither was Shinon being needlessly rude, and picking at Soren was a habit that had been suppressed for far too long.
"I had hoped so.â Soren responded, icily. âBut I suppose Ike knows best.â
âIke knows best.â Shinon mimicked, voice dripping with sarcasm.
Shinon had expected the reunion with Gatrie but be the hardest given the circumstances of their parting. He had even steeled himself to try to attempt an apology, although he probably wouldnât be able to actually explain what exactly he was apologizing for.
As it turned out, he hadnât needed to worry, because as soon as he sees Shinon, Gatrie pulls him into a tight hug.
âYouâre back.â Gatrie says, sounding like he still canât dare to believe it. âThank the goddess.â
âYouâre not mad?â Shinon asks, confused.
âI was mad.â Gatrie says. âI was furious, and sad, and then mad again. But I got over that while you were gone. Now Iâm just glad that youâre back.â
Gatrie held Shinon at arms length, looking him up and down as if to make sure that he was all in one piece, eyes catching on the bandages covering the wounds Ike had inflicted on him during the last battle. Shinon, suddenly uncomfortable under the scrutiny, batted Gatrieâs hands away.
Gatrie, seemingly unflappable as always, just laughed giddily and pulled him into another embrace.
âJust...donât do it again.â Gatrie says quietly, the vibrations of his voice seeming to echo in Shinonâs chest. âIf you disappear again, I will be mad. And I wonât get over it.â
âI wonât.â Shinon accidentally promises, overwhelmed by the fact that heâs suddenly surrounded by Gatrieâs scent, and by the realization that the smell he always associated with the Greil Mercenaries, with the closest thing to family and home heâs ever had, was actually the smell of Gatrie.
Well, when he was with the Greil Mercenaries, Gatrie was almost always by his side, so it was reasonable that he would get the smell of home and the smell of Gatrie a little mixed up sometimes.
Or perhaps they werenât two different things at all. But that was a thought Shinon was definitely not ready to examine yet.
Just like that, things returned to normal, or as normal as things could be with the fact that they had in fact kissed hanging in the air between them, conspicuously ignored by both parties involved.
But it was fine, really. Sure, there was a war going, and Shinon was on, if not the right side, at least on the side that was comfortable and familiar, with Gatrie beside him again. For now, it was enough.
It was enough, because it had to be. Shinon did not deserve even this much, and he did not dare ask for more, even in the privacy of his own head, because people like Shinon rarely get what they deserve, and even more rarely get what they want. So it was enough.
Galdrar (FE Rarepair Week Day 1: Blessed/Curse, Tibarn/Reyson)
Title: Galdrar
Author:Â legault/pinksnowboots (fic blog)
Warnings: Mentions of violence, non-explicit sexual content
Words: 3306
Summary: Most beorc and laguz are under the incorrect impression that because herons are beings of order, and beautiful to boot, they cannot harbor darkness inside of them. Tibarn used to labor under that same misapprehension, but that was before he met Reyson.
AKA a more serious take on the infamous â I had to tie him [Reyson] down to a bed to keep him thereâ line.
Written for Day 1 of @ferarepair-week2k17 for the prompts blessed/curse. Thanks so much to the mods for holding this event and to everyone contributing to it, Iâm incredibly pumped about participating!
Also read on AO3!
Most beorc and laguz are under the incorrect impression that because herons are beings of order, and beautiful to boot, they cannot harbor darkness inside of them. Tibarn used to labor under that same misapprehension, but that was before he met Reyson.
Reyson is so beautiful that sometimes it hurts to look at him, but even that pain is only the merest shadow of what Reyson can truly do.
Perfect (Rarepair Week Day 3, Azama/Subaki, Curious)
Title:Â Perfect
Author: legault/pinksnowboots (fic blog)
Warnings: Brief mentions of blood, vague kink-related content, intentional self-injury (but not in the way that self-harm typically implies), generally unhealthy relationship, non-explicit mentions of sex
Words: 4,665
Summary: Every time Azama catches so much as a glimpse of Subaki, his fingers itch with the desire to take him apart, piece by camellia-scented piece.
An incredibly late contribution for Day 3 of @ferarepair-week2k17-Iâm very glad to see that yâall are going to keep reblogging for a week or so because I still am trying to finish out all 7 days but Iâm several days behindâŠwhoops.
AO3 Link
Whenever people ask Azama why he decided to become a monk and devote his life to healing others, he tells them itâs because people say the most fascinating things when they think theyâre about to die. Most people think itâs a dark joke and laugh uncomfortably, not realizing til much later that heâs entirely serious.
ETA: additions to this post (and fic recs!) are in this tag!
YOU KNOW WHAT THE BEST THING EVER IS? ITâS SOULMATE AUS LIKE GOD DAMN I HAVE SEEN SO MANY ON FFN/LJ/AO3/TUMBLR OVER THE YEARS LIKE:
the one where you only see color once you meet your soulmate(s) (so you donât know them until you see them), and it goes away when they die
the one where you donât know your soulmate(s) until you touch them
the one where you don'y know your soulmate(s) until you hear them speak, or hear them speak a certain word; your name, for example
the one where you get the name of the person in their handwriting on your body somewhere at a certain age
the one where the first thing they say to you appears instead
the one where you get each othersâ fingerprints
the one where you get matching marks/symbols/tattoos
the one where your marks or words that change depending on whatâs going on with your soulmate(s)
the one with the clock that counts down the time until you meet your soulmate(s) (multiple clock for multiple soulmates? one click until you meet them both? unexpected third soulmate showing up after the clocks drop?)
the one where when you sleep you dream of whatever theyâre experiencing from their point of view until you find them, or AFTER you find them
the one where you can straight up talk to them in dreams until/after you find them
the one where you form a telepathic/empathetic link until/after you find them
the one where you share extreme physical sensation until/after you find them; if one of you hurts the other one hurts, if one of you is getting lucky the other one gets a little hot and bothered
the one where the closer you are to them the more aware of them you become, and you find them playing a hot/cold game; for instance, colors get brighter and brighter the closer you are and fade into gray when theyâre too far away
the one where once you turn a certain age/one night a year you swap bodies with them for one night and you have a limited amount of time to leave/collect clues to their identity
the one where being next to your soulmate(s) can heal you from things people donât normally heal from
the one where only your soulmate(s) can kill you (maybe you can still be killed by age/disease, maybe not, maybe you become vulnerable only after you lose your soulmate(s))
the one where reincarnation is also a thing and meeting your soulmate(s) either unlocks or erases memories or your past lives until the next one
the one where in universes with magic meeting your soulmate(s) activates your powers/unlocks more powerful magic
SOULMATE AUS WITH COMPLICATIONS:
blind characters who canât see if the worldâs in color or black and white
characters like x-menâs rogue who literally canât touch people; characters who have been through trauma who donât want to touch people
hard of hearing characters like clint barton who canât hear their soulmate speak without hearing aids/at all or on the flipside characters who canât speak; maybe it still works in sign language, or maybe it doesnât
people who canât read/canât read the language the words on their body are in
characters like bucky barnes whoâve lost hands and/or had their fingerprints removed
soulmate clocks that time out in the middle of the crowd; thereâs an entire craigslist category for finding who else was there that day with a clock that timed out too
famous characters speaking to or performing for a crowd and suddenly their world is in color/their clock times out/etc and every member of the audience pretends to be this celebrityâs soulmate and a cinderella type situation ensues with the finding
soulmates playing the hot/cold game and they kEEP MISSING EACH OTHER
insomniacs who rarely sleep, much less at the same time/different time than their soulmates
soulmate ot3s/ot4s/otmores where you dream in varying peopleâs povs every time you sleep and get super confused
people who get sick or injured and frantically search for their soulmates so they can survive
people who need to be in medically induced comas and their soulmates have to stay away so they donât accidentally wake them up
the one where soulbonding is actually a choice and someone chooses to bond with someone they may not know or like to save their lives and have to figure out if they can unbond or if they have to live with the situation (and of course learn to love one another either romantically or not)
new souls who donât get memories of past lives because they donât have one and panic
muggles/people without powers who of course CANâT get them upgraded or unlocked
COMBINATION AUS:
the one where you one or both of you have to do all three (see your soulmate(s), touch your soulmate(s), hear your soulmate(s)), or all three have to happen at least once between the 2+ of you
or itâs completely random how you find your soulmate(s): one of you gets a name and the other gets a fingerprint, one of you has to hear your soulmate and one of you has to see them, etc; particularly useful if you happen to be blind or deaf
same for characters with other disabilities/who have âcomplicationsâ: they get or find a different way of finding their soulmates, not better or worse, just different
THEN THEREâS SOULMATE AUS THAT DONâT HAVE TO CONFORM TO LIFELONG MONOGAMY:
the ones where you have more than one romantic soulmate at the same time or you get a new soulmate after the first dies
the ones where people have multiple soulmates of different types and itâs color coded; a red name/mark/etc for love, a blue one for friendship, etc; for the ones where you start seeing color you get a new one for each soulmate
the ones where some people have romantic soulmates and some donât, and those that donât are still perfectly happy anyway, maybe in a relationship anyway, maybe not
the ones where some people have multiple romantic soulmates who may or may not also be soulmates with each other
aromantic or asexual people who have soulmates who are not and they manage to work it out
romantic and sexual people who donât have soulmates but find happiness anyway, either with someone like them or someone not like them
SOULMATE AUS THAT EXPLORE THE RAMIFICATIONS OF SOULMATES BEING A THING:
the ones where soulmates are for everyone and get legal aid to help stay together, like if their in-laws try to keep them apart/someone risks getting deported/someone gets drafted/whatever
the ones where soulmates are super super rare and TECHNICALLY get exempted from shitty things like âpeople of different races/the same sex/etc canât get married/have relations/etcâ but maybe still face a lot of prejudice and they fight to get those types of awful laws lifted for everyone
agencies that exist to help you find your soulmate(s) or figure out which soulmate thing you have but some of them are just shams, bonus points for this being in a verse where the thing is exceedingly rare to begin with
people pretending to be soulmates to take advantage of the laws, for good or ill; the couple who loves just as fiercely as a soulmates who will do anything to stay together, or the shitty people who try to claim theyâre mated to people whoâve rejected them so they âhaveâ to stay together
tabloid mags photoshopping matching soulmate marks or following big legal cases where someone tries to prove or disprove that they are soulmates with someone else
soulmates in universes where theyâre a rarity or rare soulmate types like ot3s/ot4s/otmores in dodging government officials because they donât want to become lab rats
people who donât believe in soulmates until it happens to them, or people who believe hardcore and want to find theirs but they donât necessarily have one, or donât have a romantic one
little rituals that make finding your soulmate more likely, like shaking hands with people as often as possible even with the cashier ringing up your groceries, repeating each otherâs names after youâre introduced, etc
just give me alllll the soulmate aus ok, give me people finding each other in spite of complications, give me all the delightful plot twists, give me detailed worlds where this changes the norms, give me it working out in the end whether romantically or not, bonded or not
feel free to reblog with sources! (or MORE AUS.) a little over half of these are things iâve seen elsewhere over time and i cannot remember where they are all from
haha or if youâre into this sorta thing you could just take pity on me and reblog it anyway this took an embarrassingly long time to type up oh my god ;;;;;;;;;
Chapters: 1/1
Wordcount: 1,151
Fandom: Fire Emblem Fates
Rating: Gen
Warnings: None
Relationships: Xanlow (Xander/Laslow)
Characters: Xander, Laslow,
Summary: Laslow is pulled in many different directions.
Completely self-indulgent take on Laslow's decision on whether to stay in Nohr or return to the Awakening universe. Basic set-up is that somehow Laslow has told Xander the truth, and now that all the in-game events are over, heâs trying to figure out whether to stay or go.
Also read on AO3
Laslow is nowhere to be found.
For a moment Xander panics, irrationally afraid that Laslow has been spirited away to another world, back to his home world, despite the fact that Laslow has assured him that he doesn't know what he's going to do and when he does make his decision, Xander will be the first to know.
The moment passes and the panic fades, joining the dull ache in his chest that pangs every time he remembers Laslow saying, "If, after the war, I were to go somewhere..."
But Xander is a man of action, and he pushes the thoughts away while he goes searching for his retainer.
 Somewhere far away...
 Heâs not in his room or in the kitchens, attempting to flirt with the maids. Heâs not in the spot at the edge of the gardens that he things Xander does not know about where he goes to dance when he is stressed or troubled.
 If you never saw me again...
 He is not with Odin, who he finds in Nilesâ quarters, looking unusually on edge. Concerned, Xander tries to inquire if he is also looking for Laslow and is met with a response that is both uncharacteristically plain spoken and unacceptably terse given that heâs speaking to the soon-to-be-King of Nohr. Niles is not known for being someone who de-escalates situations, but he pulls Odin away before he can do any irredeemable damage.
 Would you be angry?
 Xander even goes down to the local tavern to ask the incredibly starstruck bartender if theyâve seen his infamous retainer clumsily flirting with local women recently. He receives an offer of a free drink and the distinct sense that heâs being hit on, but no more information on the Laslow front.
 Would you be able to forgive me for abandoning you?
 Eventually, Xander finds him in the last place he expected: the practice grounds. Laslow rarely practices swordplay or axeplay, which is a problem because that is not the way a royal retainer should act, but not a huge problem because Laslow is inexplicably skillful despite never practicing, and his loafing has never endangered Xanderâs life or his own. Besides, Xander has had discussions with him several times about this behavior and they never seem to stick.
It is funny the way that little things, like scolding Laslow about his lackluster training regimen, pop into his head at the strangest of times.
 ...Yes. I would.
 âLaslow,â Xander says, as he approaches, and Laslow pauses from decimating a practice dummy with vigor he would have expected more from Peri.
 âMilord.â Laslow replies, uncharacteristically lackluster.
 âIs something troubling you?â Xander asks, although he already knows the answer.
 He pauses, then forges on, reluctant to broach the subject himself, âPerhaps your...situation with your home world?â
 âItâs just,â Laslow laughs bitterly. âA no-win situation, and itâs my own damn fault for thinking this would somehow work out.â
 âLaslow,â Xander says, gentle. âItâs not your fault.â
 âBut it is.â Laslow insists. âItâs selfish of me. I should go back, I promised I would go back. If I stay, it would break my mothers heart. But if I goâŠâ
 âYou would break mine.â Xander finishes, quietly.
 Laslow looks up to meet his eyes, shocked.
 âIâm sorry.â Xander says. âThat was out of line. I had resolved not to say anything so as not to bias your decision, but I failed. I suppose I am a bit selfish too.â
 âI was going to say that leaving would break my own heart. Milord, are you saying that you wish for me to stay?â
 âIf I did, would it keep you here?â Xander looks almost ashamed.
 âPerhaps.â Laslow breathes, afraid to say yes.
 âThen I must not say it. Even if it pains me, if you must return, I do not want to be the tie that binds you to a world that is not your own.â
 Xander closes his eyes, in guilt or in resignation.
 âI told you before that I do not require you to be at my side, only that you continue to draw breathe, be it in this world or any other.â Xander opens his eyes, catches Laslowâs gaze and holds it tightly. âI stand by that statement. If you must return home to your world, I will not oppose it, and I will wish you the happiest of lives wherever you may be.â
 âBut if I can be so bold as to speak frankly,â he continues. âAlthough I do not require your presence by my side, I have come to realize that I desire it, now and always.â
 âLaslow,â Xander steps forward, gently grasps Laslowâs hands. âI do not wish to keep you from your home, but I want you to know that you always have a place by my side. That is, if you so desire.â
 Laslow stands in silence for several moments, lost in thought but not releasing Xanderâs hand. Xander becomes nervous, is just about to pull away, berating himself for his inappropriate behavior, when Laslow squeezes his hand.
 âPerhaps it is my turn to speak too boldly.â Laslow says, firm grip belying his nervousness. âMilord, I fear that this may make you angry, but you cannot possibly keep me from my home, for over the past years, you have become my home.â
 Xander hears the words before he understands them, and Laslow tenses up just before Xander processes what he has heard and pulls Laslow into his arms.
 âRather than being angry,â Xander says into Laslowâs hair, suddenly realizing that he can feel Laslowâs heartbeat in his own chest. âI am honored.â
   âLaslow, are you crying?â Xander asks, minutes or hours later; he is not sure exactly how long they have been there, but even though Laslow is not leaving he cannot bear to let him go in case he changes his mind.
 âNo,â Laslow says, blinking away what he claims are not tears. âI just have something in my eyeâ
 âWe havenât moved for ages, what could you have gotten in your eye?â More specifically, Laslow has been standing in Xanderâs arms for who knows how long, feeling as is Xander was the only thing holding him together.
 âTears.â Laslow, never a good liar, finally admits.
Chapters: 1/1
Wordcount: 15,217
Fandom: Fire Emblem Fates
Rating: Teen and Up
Warnings: Temporary Character Death, Mild Violence
Relationships: Xanlow (Xander/Laslow), various background relationships
Characters: Xander, Laslow, Odin, various other members of the Nohrian royalty with cameos by Ryoma and Saizo
Additional Tags: Mild Canon Divergence, Grief, Revelations Route, Near Future, Post-Canon, Character Study
Summary: Xander does not realize the depths of his feelings for Laslow until it is too late.
Fill for @dorkpatrollerâ for the @xanlow-exchangeâ for the prompt âI thought you were deadâ
Also read on AO3!
âIf, after the war, I were to go somewhere. Somewhere far away⊠If you never saw me again⊠Would you be angry? Would you be able to forgive me for abandoning you?â
ââŠYes. I would.â
Xander had never expected Laslow to stay with him forever, had been prepared to lose him someday.
âOh? Truly?â
âIt is not your company I require. Only that you continue to draw breath. I just want you to ensure you live. Whatever your true name or appearance.â
What he had not prepared for was losing Laslow, not to a happy life in another world, but to a lonely death of the fields of battle.
Yâall, so idk if anyone remembers when I wrote this fic for the Xanlow exchange, but it involves Laslow in a dancerâs costume and thanks for FE Heroes that is actually a REAL THING THAT EXISTS! I am so happy right now (esp since I summoned him the other day, because for once fate is working in my favor)
But anyway if anyone ever reads/has read this fic, this is what Laslow looks like during that one part in it.
Galdrar (FE Rarepair Week Day 1: Blessed/Curse, Tibarn/Reyson)
Title: Galdrar
Author:Â legault/pinksnowboots (fic blog)
Warnings: Mentions of violence, non-explicit sexual content
Words: 3306
Summary: Most beorc and laguz are under the incorrect impression that because herons are beings of order, and beautiful to boot, they cannot harbor darkness inside of them. Tibarn used to labor under that same misapprehension, but that was before he met Reyson.
AKA a more serious take on the infamous â I had to tie him [Reyson] down to a bed to keep him thereâ line.
Written for Day 1 of @ferarepair-week2k17 for the prompts blessed/curse. Thanks so much to the mods for holding this event and to everyone contributing to it, Iâm incredibly pumped about participating!
Also read on AO3!
Most beorc and laguz are under the incorrect impression that because herons are beings of order, and beautiful to boot, they cannot harbor darkness inside of them. Tibarn used to labor under that same misapprehension, but that was before he met Reyson.
Reyson is so beautiful that sometimes it hurts to look at him, but even that pain is only the merest shadow of what Reyson can truly do.