Hello its the artagan x reader anon here! Thank you, it was really good :) would love an eventual part 2 where jester and the rest of the nein find out <3
ohhh boyyy writer's block is hitting hard so requests have been slow. I hope this one turned out to your liking!
Artagan watches you pace along the shoreline. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. The footsteps have blended together to a single indistinguishable trail. Were it any other occasion he might have thought it hilarious. No. Wait. It’s still very much hilarious. Though he does feel somewhat queasy inside at seeing you distressed. It’s an odd combination of emotions. Is this what it feels like to feel sorry for someone other than himself? He’s not sure he likes it yet. But he likes you so good enough? Despite you deeming this situation bad and stressful he doesn’t see the issue so at least he’s glad when you dragged him out here you chose the Nicodranian beaches away from the city itself. No people around other than the two of you. He called you slightly paranoid for you reasoning you have friends who can disguise themselves at the drop of a hat and have an investment in the personal lives of their companions and thus opted for a place you’d be less likely to be seen together.
“I don’t get what the fuss is all about, darling.” Artagan counters from his spot perched on top of some of the larger rocks spread across the sandy beaches when you turn again to go off on another round of pacing. You stop and face him, biting at your nail. This stress is getting too much for you. It’s getting too much for him. Ugh, you’re affecting his mood now. Nevermind, he won’t let his positive attitude in your company falter regardless of circumstance.
“She asked me my favourite colour, Artagan. My favourite colour.” You exclaim exasperated throwing your hands up until they cross once more, fingers wrapping tightly around your upper arms.
“I don’t see the issue with such an innocent question.” How is he not getting your point? How? He isn’t even remotely worried, is he? For the Moonweaver’s sake! It’s obvious. You’re screwed. Ousted. This is the worst. Oh gods this is the worst.
“She wiggled her eyebrows, dammit. You know she only does that when she’s prying and mischievous.” Artagan taps his finger to his lips in thought and you can only hope the copper drops but it doesn’t. His expression returns to indifference and with an internalised scream of annoyance you allow yourself to drop backwards onto the sand and stare up into the blue sky above. It only offers you a few moments of peace though because before you know it a mass of red curls dance into your vision and brush your face as the familiar green eyes you’ve so grown to love meet yours. You brush aside a curl that’s been itching at your nose and feel the annoyance begin to waver. You know he’s trying to cheer you up and doesn’t like seeing you stressed. What can you say? It’s working.
“Your people skills are severely lacking, you know?” You sigh as you lean up on one elbow while holding the curtain of curls aside.
“What ever do you mean? My people skills are impeccable!” Artagan all but gasps in mock offence placing a hand over his heart as he stares down at you and shakes his head just lightly to once more whip the mass of red into your face. You brush them aside with a huff and the moment he sees that hint of a smile grow he can’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction. You sit up fully and hold out your hand. Somewhat suspiciously he takes it and you yank until he falls flat on his arse on the sand next to you. For a brief moment he considers revenge but then he hears your stifled giggles and that desire slowly fades. He truly must be some lovesick fool if his impulses are stilled by the mere sound of your laughter.
“One could speak about the etiquette of tripping someone…” Is the only retort he feels justified in while you cover your mouth in attempts to repress further laughter when Artagan huffs.
“And you would know all about proper etiquette, wouldn’t you?” You try to put on a serious face but fail miserably. Not that you mind. The amused grin and raising of eyebrows from the fey are reward on its own. You’re quite satisfied with your antics.
“Where I’m from, etiquette are instilled into our very beings.” You give him a disbelieving look. It’s not that you doubt this fact. You’ve done your research before. But that being said, Artagan is the furthest from an exemplary highborn like the ones that sit at the courts and councils of Exandria.
“I just simply decide to ignore those parts of my being unless they suit me. Would you prefer me to extend a curtesy every time someone offers me what could be interpreted as such? Or maybe I should start counting every time you told me ‘thank you’ for a favour owed? That’s quite some favours…” Artagan clasps one of your hands between both of his when you go to flick his nose. You know what he’s doing and its’s very much working. The stress of the situation at hand has dropped almost entirely and if it wasn’t for the brief second of silence while he studies you that gives your mind just enough time to think, you might have forgotten entirely.
“We’re going to have to tell her, Artagan. All of them.” You sigh, leaning your head against his shoulder, staring off into the horizon. You can feel him take a deep breath, returning to reality too, and a light squeeze to your hand in confirmation.
“Whenever you’re ready.” He mutters, pressing a kiss to your crown. You might be at ease in his embrace, and that’s something he takes great pride in, it’s clear your mind is preoccupied. He might be able to run from the real world whenever he pleases, but that does not mean that reality has extended the same courtesy to you. He’ll have to deal and face certain things head on rather than slyly slither out of the grips of consequences when it comes to you, and quite surprisingly, that is a sacrifice he’ll gladly make for you.
You nod, lifting your head from Artagan’s shoulder and rise to your feet, gently urging him to rise as well. Resisting the desire to remain at the beach for just a little longer he gets up and offers you his arm. He’ll be on his best behaviour… for however long he feels like… Offering him a sarcastic look you loop your arm through his and begin the journey back to the city. Could he shorten the journey significantly? Perhaps. Will he? No. Both of you can use this moment of respite, and saying goodbye to the secret you’ve kept for weeks if not months at this point, before it’s exchanged by something unpredictable. Will they approve? That’s your main worry isn’t it? Or more accurately; will you have to make an impossible choice? Your friends or your lover?
You reach the front steps of the Lavish Chateau. It’s quiet at least per the Chateau’s standards that is. Lunch long since served and dinner still a ways away, the patrons find themselves enjoying a drink and conducting meetings or passing the time until they absolutely must move on to other business. There’s comfort in the normalcy of it all but still you find yourself scanning the room for the Mighty Nein. Nowhere to be found. They did say they’d go out shopping and would return later which would give you about half an hour to actually finalise your plans. The nerves hit you hard and you find yourself jittery once more, unable to sit still in your seat, leg bouncing as Artagan assures you’ve got something strong to settle the nerves. Perhaps not the best call to douse the nerves in alcohol but you can’t argue with its effectiveness.
A hand finds its way onto your thigh, stopping it from bouncing and rubbing comforting circles that manage to keep you grounded as you take another swig of your drink. You offer the fey a half smile in thanks.
“Okay, so when they return I need you to disappear for a little. I don’t care how or where to as long as you’re out of sight until I call you?” You see the mischievous grin appear. “And I realise that that freedom is a huge mistake so how about you just stay here? Invisible? In disguise? Around the corner?” You correct yourself and the mischief drains from Artagan’s face just a little, as much as can be that is.
“Whatever you need, darling.” There’s a truth in his eyes, he might not have spoken the exact words but they sound very much like a promise he intends to keep, for your sake and maybe perhaps for his own too.
“I’ll ease them into the fact that yes I’ve been a bit… preoccupied with someone who I’ve taken a bit more than a liking to and so on, answer some questions if necessary until you come out. And then I’ll try to do my best to prevent them from skinning you alive, making crude jokes or questioning my sanity too much. Who am I kidding? The question about my sanity has sailed, and sunk.” You ramble on as you take another large swig from your cup until it’s empty.
“All will be well.” Artagan says but even he is not confident in this turning out well. Something about the Mighty Nein’s protectiveness of those they count among their own and their allies and since you by far outrank him, he doesn’t really like his odds, but like he said; he loves you more so he’ll suffer through it, even if that means telling a little white lie here and there. He does not have faith all will be well. Not with this bunch, regardless of his faith in your abilities.
Nerves rising and clock ticking you sigh deeply as if to prepare yourself for what might come and allow yourself to sink into the calm before the storm, embracing that illusion of security your lover provides. You cup his cheeks, brushing your thumbs along his cheekbones and smile.
“No matter what; I love you.” You breathe. Artagan smiles. A genuine smile. Not a mischievous one, nor one of courtesy but an actual warm smile and it melts your heart, sparks the courage you’ll need in but a moment and so you brush your lips against his. And again. And again. Not inappropriately so, you’ve not forgotten your own manners and put them in front of your desires, nevermind the task you have to complete but enough to have people avoid your corner in the Lavish Chateau and turn their gazes elsewhere.
It appears as if Artagan might have one or several deities that might still be at odds with him. The front doors to the Lavish Chateau slam open with a loud bang. The call for the bartender to pour some drinks is cut short by a loud gasp and rapid movement through the tavern pushing chair and table, patron and bartender aside to beeline for that table in the corner. By the time you’ve realised what’s going on the damage is already done, regardless of how fast you might have pulled apart when the ruckus entered. They saw. Your worst nightmare has come true. They’ve caught you and Artagan together before you’d even had the opportunity to tell them or explain yourself and what happens next although not surprising might have been avoided under different circumstances and if things had gone to plan.
“What the…” Several exclaims of surprise and confusion sound from the Mighty Nein but it’s Jester’s quietness and quick movement that scares you the most. She’s beelined for your table and stands there, hands on her hips, lips pursed and brows knitted into a frown. Were it any other circumstance both you and Artagan might have laughed at the tiefling’s huff and puff but right now you’re just worried trying to find the words. Of course before you get the chance to do so, the warmth once placed on your hip disappears completely as does the sense of someone in close proximity. When you turn to look over your shoulder you instead see Beauregard holding your favourite fey to the wall, while giving space for the half-orc companion to press the tip of the newly summoned blade at Artagan’s neck.
“If you think this is some funny mind trick you’re dead wrong.” Beau sneers as you quickly rise to your feet but before you can move around, a hand finds its way onto your shoulder and persuades you to stay back. You feel a rush of magic run through you and watch a hand full of powdered diamond turn to ordinary dust. It doesn’t take you long to recognise the spell and while Veth who’s jumped up on the table crossbow at the ready and Jester search for that moment of clarity to grace your features you pull yourself away and around, shove Beau backwards and interpose between Artagan and them, extending your arm backwards and reaching for his hand, fingers immediately tangling with yours and offering you a reassuring squeeze to say he’s fine.
“I don’t think it’s a trick.” The gentle giant of a firbolg states with a pitying glance at the two of you. “Oh… It’s that bad isn’t it?” He added to you specifically. You tilt your head and roll your eyes at the perceptiveness of Caduceus who by the looks of it had some idea but now realised the extend of your involvement and can’t help the faintest bit of amusement at the drama to poke through his features.
“I swear to Sehanine, Fjord. If you do not lower that sword right now…” You threaten, eyes burning with something akin to rage that definitely promise bodily harm upon the slightest inkling of disobedience. Fjord knows what’s good for him and despite his attitude of caution in regards this all, lowers the sword from the fey’s neck.
“I have to say I find myself particularly fond of this protectiveness of yours.” Artagan peaks up dabbing his fingers along where the blade once held to his neck as if to check for any bleeding but finding none. At least the momma’s boy had some right state of mind not to leave a scratch or by the looks of it you might have gone feral. He’s truthful in that regard; he truly does thing this protectiveness is a good look on you and truly does admire it. He can’t help but once again feel that giddy feeling inside his chest, that warmth spreading out towards his head and sending shivers down his spine. Artagan loves many things about you, and with the revelations hitting in these very moments he’s more than just fallen for you, this is more than a love born from simple fondness. This is love. Actual love. Real love and he’s in deep. Once he might have been hesitant to approach the subject or maybe he’d run from the commitment, fear he might grow bored of it or of you over time and having to face the wrath of your friends if he broke your heart but it’s in this he instead sees that he doesn’t see how he could ever grow bored of what you have, nor can he bear the thought of breaking your heart… Maybe this isn’t such a bad thing.
“Shut up.” Those two words unanimously sound through the assembled group as some distance is put between the two of you and the rest of the Nein who still stand gathered in a half circle around you anticipating whatever comes next, who ever will make the next move…
“Oh. My. Gods. You guys! They’re totally in love!” Jester squeals breaking the tension and while you’re somewhat grateful you can feel a stress headache set on when she launches into a thousand questions wishing to know every little detail of your relationship. You swear within five minutes she’s halfway through planning your wedding. You want to scream or just run away but then you feel that warmth at the small of your back, the gentle soft tapping of fingertips through the fabric of your clothes and you feel grounded once more, offering a silent thanks to the fey at your side. This did not go unnoticed.
“Uhhhhhggggg, Yasha! Kill me now please. They’re being cute and I can’t bear it.” The barbarian does what she does best and just awkwardly pats the monk’s shoulder yet Beau seems entirely distracted and satisfied with the woman’s attention as is. It almost manages to bring a smile to your face but before you know it you’re pulled off your feet and lifted at the waist to be spun around and hugged close like some life-sized doll by the squealing tiefling.
“Why didn’t you tell anyone you’re in love with Arti?!” The way Jester says it almost has you feel guilty. Almost before you’re reminded this one can be as crafty if not more so than the archfey behind you. And so another tirade of questions and comments follows, so much so you even receive a look of pity from Caleb, despite the wizard offering his own teasing questions and input. The amount of times you’ve buried your face in your hands and wished for the earth to swallow you whole, you do not wish to count and those moments were not made better by your lover offering your comfort through your internal screaming as those actions only provoked more comments and quips about your involvement with the resident deity. Thank the gods the Ruby is set to perform for the night and you might yet have an opportunity to slip away.
“So Arti, are you going to be around even more now?” Jester asks innocently leaning her elbows on the table. “Because I’m still your favourite, right? Since you’ve known me forever.” She drags out the last word batting her eyelashes.
“We should probably book you an extra room from now on. I still remember the days where Yezza and I didn’t have much privacy and couldn’t get our freak on for a while. The longing… The desire… What even is the sex drive of a fey? Any different than us folks?” Veth goes on as you bite your tongue. Please gods, please, send some dragons to attack right about now? A divine smite down upon this tavern? Arcane experiment gone wrong? Something to interrupt this mess or you might perish from the cringe.
“You’re a bit flushed, darling. Some fresh air might do you well?” Artagan speaks leaving Jester to excitedly seal again about how cute it is he cares about you. You nod with a grateful smile as he ‘helps’ you to your feet, keeping a hand on the small of your back as you step away from the table.
“Be careful!” Caleb calls after you.
“Yeah, stay safe!” Yasha speaks clinking her tankard with Beau’s.
“Oh my gosh! They’re totally gonna bone, aren’t they?”
“Jessie, when a couple says they’re going for some fresh air, they’re not actually going for fresh air. It usually means they’re going to f-“ And so you tune out whatever else is hollered after the two of you that earns you quite the looks from the other patrons who’ve started filing ing for tonights performance.
“If you know what’s good for you you keep that comment to your self.” You speak darkly when you notice Artagan open his mouth to say something. He closes it just as fast. Instead of outside you guide him along to the stairs by the bar and up until you reach the familiar room you’ve been staying in since your arrival in Nicodranas. You’ve lost lack of care if the others noticed but at least know you weren’t followed.
Once the door closes behind the two of you and you’re faced with the somewhat elaborate room of the Lavish Chateau you stride over to the bed and just allow yourself to fall backwards onto the soft mattress with a groan. It’ll be a while to process the past two or so hours. You close your eyes and just lay there. You can feel his eyes on you, hear his boots make contact with the wooden floors with each step he takes until they stop. And then you feel something brush your face again. Peaking through your lashes you see the mass of curls leaning over you again, so you do what any person lacking a sense of judgement or self-preservation would do, and wrap your legs around the fey’s hips, knocking him off his feet in the process and making him fall on top of you, with barely enough time to catch himself with his hands. Unfazed Artagan shifts his balance and switches places, you on top, legs straddling his sides and him somewhat unceremoniously sprawled out, hands finding your thighs and rubbing gentle circles into your skin.
“That wasn’t as bad as I expected.” Artagan claims and you give him a look.
“You were held at sword point.” You deadpan, brushing a finger along where the cold metal had once pressed against his skin.
“I suppose you do have a point. How long do you reckon they’d keep up their antics?”
“To this extend? A couple of weeks. Their usual teasing? I’m afraid that’ll last now they’ve found some new angles to explore.” You brush away a fiery curl from his face as he sits up allowing you to wrap your arms around his neck and place a kiss to his nose.
“Is this where I offer to save you from your friends and run away for a few weeks until it blows over?” You laugh. The offer is somewhat genuine you can tell and that’s exactly why you don’t answer. That remains to be seen. You might actually enjoy a bit of a break and alone time without being hollered every time you resign yourself to some privacy be that to have a break from it all of spend it with your favourite fey.
“Don’t you have some divine duties to take care of?” You joke, knowing very well of the events that transpired and make Artagan somewhat hesitant to engage in any kind of patron roll for a while. Your joke earns you a pinch at your behind making you jump but both of you laugh no less. You just allow yourselves to be in the moment, letting the stress subside and preparing for the oncoming torture at the reveal of your relationship. And so, to take every moment you can get your lips meet his in a loving kiss.
Artagan is reminded that maybe he’s stupid for loving his cleric’s best friend but he couldn’t care less. He’s always been a creature of impulse and one that laughs at customs and rules telling him what he can or can’t do. This is no different. He loves you, you love him. He’ll endure the teasing but might have to give you a heads up he will not be held responsible if he turns some of your friends into turtles to haunt the half-orc in retaliation. Though, given your responses today, he doubts you’d be too opposed to the idea. Either way, he’ll stay in your embrace every chance he gets and take every ounce of love you offer him so he may give his in return.
“Thank you.” You mutter between breaths as you pull away. Maybe you’re stupid for loving your best friend’s patron but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Maybe you’re inviting chaos into your life and maybe there’ll be moments where you’ll have to save your lover from whatever incredibly stupid thing he’ll undoubtedly be responsible for, but you know what you’re signing up for. You wouldn’t trade it for the world. If you get this; a warm embrace and plenty of love given freely, you’ll be satisfied and offer the same in return without a single doubt.
“Is that another favour owed? I really should keep count.” He smiles against your lips as you silence him with a quick kiss and disapproving look.
“Shut up and kiss me.” Not going to question or delay his lips find yours. The door slams open but neither of you have the mind to fully pull away so instead you lean your forehead against his, seeing the figure in the doorway from your peripheral.
“I told you they were gonna bone! Caduceus! I’m rooming with you!” Beau unceremoniously walks inside, grabs her bag and storms out, slamming the door closed behind her so loud a painting on the wall falls from its hook making you jump. You and Artagan share a look, listening for the footsteps all but running down the hall outside until they disappear. Maybe you’ll be able to tease back after all. An evil plot already forming in your minds and the moment you realise you’re both on the same line you burst out in laughter. You can get used to this. Maybe coming clean about your relationship isn’t such a bad thing after all.
Hey! May I ask for another Traveler fic, were reader is another lesser Deity who is a sort of Valkyrie/Grim Reaper who's just a total badass ( who often saves Arty lol) but they 're just a big teddy bear who likes puns! I just love this sort of dynamic lol Thank you!
Sorry for the wait! Hope you like my absolutely atrociously cheesy puns. Kind of starting to like writing for this chaos fey. 😘
From around the corner the green hooded figure releases a spark of divine magic. Nothing like a little miracle, though he was summoned and this little spark went to his most loyal acolyte. Who the hell is he kidding? He’s got a weakness for the girl. She made him who he is. She deified him, he just never bothered to correct her. He’s taken that title, taken that crown and worn it with pride and well, he was just bored and the adoration sounded like fun. Not much else to it than a god-complex and self confidence because one doesn’t get where he did without a little risk and reward. The downside of that is that now he has disciples yapping in his ears day and night and it’s getting annoying. He’d just try to ignore it normally but after an eventful day, when he heard that tiefling beg for his help, he wasn’t going to deny her. He wasn’t going to let his best girl hanging. He’d expand most of his resources for her and he was running out for the day when he popped over, lend that power and got stranded in this shithole of a city in Xhorhas, to say he’s less than pleased is an understatement.
Severely disgruntled and regretting the decisions he’d made for a millisecond he ran, hoping he wasn’t spotted Artagan moves on. Can you imagine, someone of his stature running and hiding in the shadows instead of just snapping his fingers and disappearing in godly grace? It’s a tragedy and now he has to wait here too until his powers restore and he can go back to that far off beach somewhere. This dream is quickly crushed by footsteps falling in line with him. His appearance changes to better blend into the crowds and he knows very well the individual strolling up beside him carries their own disguise. He’s not so easily fooled and stares right through the illusion. Benefits of the origins he’d chosen to discard for the sake of his divine story. Nevermind he mutters curses under his breath.
“Looks like you’re in need of a break. How about dinner? Breakfast? Lunch?” Artagan can’t argue with you there, he could do with some food though he doubts anything worth eating could be found in a place like this. Perhaps you’d share that sentiment and offer to save him from this hell and get him to that beach of his.
“There’s this place around the corner.” You continue, looping your arm through his. He didn’t offer. You just did. Kiss his cheek while you’re at it. The gestures feel wholly belittling to him. Like you know what he’s been up to. “It’s called Karma. You’ll love it. Serves exactly what you deserve.”
“I am sorely disappointed in you. That’s terrible.” Artagan deadpans like you didn’t notice the slight hint of his lips curling up before he turned it to utter disappointment in your poor excuse of a pun. Okay maybe it was decent but he’s not going to tell you that.
“And that’s mildly offensive. I’m amazing! You could get as lost in my words as you could in my eyes. I’m so captivating.” When you get the archfey to facepalm and halt your walk, you grin victoriously.
“Please, if you are to torment me with your horrible attempts of jokes, kindly leave me to suffer on my own.” Artagan untangles his arm from your grip and walks into the nearest alley, leaning against the wall. You follow, perching yourself on a stack of crates. You clasp your hands together, leaning your lower arms on the curved blade of your scythe and dangle your leg a foot above the ground while the other is bend at the knee. You sit there in silence, or at least sort off. You can’t help yourself from being a little shit and whistle, nudge your heel against the wooden crate, the tiny things are are definitely just slightly annoying. You know exactly what you’re doing.
“I killed some plotting nagpas, you know. Was quite the fight. Earned some more favour with the Raven Queen. Kind of good to have a decent working relationship when you reside over the same domains.” You pick your nails, like it was nothing. It was quite something. It was epic. You slew the traitors, had them screaming for an end. Queenie wanted them to suffer, she got it. They were marked for death, two birds one stone right? Artagan rolls his eyes.
“Oh please don’t tell me you’re jealous because I’m making friends with the big guys.”
“On the contrary, darling. Over confidence, arrogance, a view of right and wrong that applies to all those who worship you except for yourself, an obsession with power, twisted morals, impossibly high standards and a never ending need for people to praise you. You fit right in.” Your expression hardens, so does his as you look him straight in the eye. You jump from your crates, hold your scythe tightly, allowing the pommel to hit the ground with a loud thud for every other step you take until you’re face to face. Your hand reaches out, fingers grazing his cheek, along his jawline, over his pointed ear. No response. Your staring match remains unbroken. Your appearance shifts to what you know his true features to be, even if he can see it’s an illusion, he’d still know.
“Must be hard saying those things to yourself?” He raises an eyebrow in question at your comment. “Is this what we call progress? All it took was a little self reflection.” He snorts. Good enough for you. With that you take his hand and drag him out of the alley.
“Where are we off to?” Artagan hesitates even asking at this point.
“Off to find a drink and get your boots cleaned because, darling, you should be ashamed.” You glance down at the dirt and grime covered boots. Now it’s his turn to use what little remnants of his magic are left and make himself appear as you; covered in dirt and grime and blood, there’s even some still splattered on your cheek. It’s certainly a look.
“Self reflection.” He does his best impression of you and it’s not half that bad. You laugh and with a wave of your hand the two of you pop off. At least you both have a preference of the beach. He doesn’t know why given you’re prone to wearing what best fits your divine duties; black and some varying shades of grey that might once have been black but are no longer. Some accents of red are not out of the question but he’s noticed you have recently been sporting an emerald green ribbon among your attire. He has to say, he likes it. Could do with more green though.
It isn’t long after you find your way to that beach you’re both several brightly coloured drinks in, fancy glasses in hand, little umbrellas decorating them, and discussing the recent events; your travels, Artagan’s clout building and annoyances with the responsibilities of being a deity and so on. You’re having fun. The sun is getting lower in the sky. You’ve been drinking for a few hours and haven’t stopped. This was a good time off and the only way the two of you could stay remotely drunk before the alcohol would wear off. So much for an immunity to poison…
“-so there she is, dangling from the Platinum Dragon’s statue in his temple and the chase begins. Her little goblin friend- who’s another case you’d love to uncover, decides to be the distraction. Of course it goes horribly, imitated the keeper of the temple, blinked through the guards’ grasp and somehow made it out without being caught. They’re still scrubbing off the paint from that statue.” With a little magic he lets the scene play out in illusory lights as you both laugh at the immature cartoonish depiction and reactions of the juvenile caricatures.
“You’ve definitely been busy while I’ve been away.” You finish your drink.
“Well what else was I supposed to do when you asked me to make trouble for the both of us? I’m a creature of my word.” He places his hand over his heart as if hurt or insulted but the grin on his face says otherwise
“Right to the very dot too.” With that Artagan finishes his own drink and sighs. “What? Divinity becoming a bit too much for you?” You give him a look that earns an eye roll. He can’t help the blabbering is becoming too much.
“‘Traveler, please hide me from my enemies. Traveler, help me exchange the sugar for salt. Traveler, free me from the guards. Traveler, Traveler, Traveler. Can’t I have a moment to myself?” He buries his head in his hands, exasperated. You nudge his knee with your leg and he looks between his fingers. You mention towards the sunset, sympathetic smile on your face though there’s something to it.
“You know, they say light travels much faster than sound.” He waits to see where this is going as the server exchanges your empty glasses and leaves you two again. Artagan takes his and sips it. Not too bad. Bit sweet for his tastes. Biter sweet, like him, you’d say. He avoids snickering to himself. You’ve been a horrid influence. Before he knows it his trickery will suffer under your terrible sense of humour.
“Perhaps that’s why I thought you were a bright one until you opened your mouth to speak.” He finishes for you, cringing internally. He’s definitely suffering under your effects.
“Rude! You stole my joke!” You kick at his knee but he easily catches your foot and gives you a ‘try me’ look so instead you just cross your arms and huff before your features soften again. “But to answer your question; your acolytes are like the sun, you might not always see them but they’re there. They’ll be annoying you every day for as long as your divine story lives on and spreads. What might be a couple hundred now might grow out into thousands in a handful of years. You chose to become the Traveler, you’ll have to put up with the not so fun parts too.” He supposes you know what you’re talking about. You sigh, think for a second and continue.
“Or alternatively you could present a narrative that allows you to be slacking on the job without the loss of the benefits and adoration godhood brings through some grand scheme that is doomed to fail and end in disaster.” You said this as a joke, by the looks of it Artagan is actually considering it so quickly you back track.
“That is not half as bad of a plan. Needs some tweaking of course but so does any early concept.” He deliberates, you can already see the cogs turning in his head and you’re afraid for his terrible sense of judgement, irresponsibleness and of course general lack of awareness of the consequences to his actions.
“No. No no no. Nuh-uh. Arti, you know what happened last times you messed with these types of things. It never ends well. Need I remind you of the Wodenna disaster? I swear I will not be pulling your ass out of yet another self-inflicted catastrophe!” You threaten pointing an accusatory finger at the archfey who grins at your comments.
“I’ve heard that one several times before.” He retorts and you’re not even surprised. He’s right. Despite whatever reckless chaos he’d worm himself into, you’d always be there to pull him out. No matter what, you still would. You’ve not lasted through centuries together for nothing. But that doesn’t mean you don’t get to tease him relentlessly for his mistakes.
“Will ignorance and apathy really be your downfall? I expected better from you.” You jab back with a trademark grin to match Artagan’s. You raise your glass, so does he.
“I don’t know and I don’t really care.” You suppose you did walk into that one that’s on you. He clinks his glass with yours and you can’t be mad about it but definitely take a big sip. You need more of this lousy alcohol.
“I hate you.” You grumble over the rim of your glass. He winks.
HELLO! I honestly really love your artagan requests and had thoughts. Maybe your a lesser known deity similar to artagan , also being an archfey. Your a chaotic good deity representing rebirth , spring , and love. You lead people down a new path/regain a new life , try to spread warmness to people who need it the most , and spread magnificent plant life all over the world of Exandria.
Maybe you and artagan used to know each other in the fey wild , growing a close bond. The two of you were in-sync (hehe) with one another almost. You both would always be up to something. Maybe one day you had exited the fey wild for some reason (if you want you can make up your own idea about why this happened) and artagan was surprised when he couldn’t find you anywhere. And to think the warmness that he felt spread across his cheeks time to time seeing you smile meant something
WHAT IFFF- you ended up with the mighty Nein one way or another and find your familiar once again. You still looked the same as the last time he saw you… just a little different. Would he be happy to see you again after all of this time? Would your friendship be mended? MAYBEEE would those feelings come out finally? (Sorry if there aren’t lore correct parts , I’m about like episode 18 into campaign two. Just love arty so much <3)
Two-parter because I'm already past a 2.7k word count for this request. second part should be about the same length. Hope you enjoy! 😘
Priding himself in being a wandering creature who calls no place home, the closest he’s found as a place he would frequent was a lovely grove. Treacherous are lands of the Feywild, especially those outside of the civilised areas are a place on would rather avoid, but that never deterred Artagan. He goes where he pleases, even if that sometimes means he’ll find himself in the territory of a less than welcoming hag or end up being chased by some foul creature. Traveling the wilds have brought him more good things than bad, that very grove among one of the best things he’d come to find. Removed where the forces of Spring flourish yet always bustling with life, those who find themselves lost, abandoned and on death’s door may stumble upon a kindred grove where they will know caring and wonder, where they will find kindness and trust among what offers only sugarcoated danger.
This grove would never be a home. But one creature calls it home and so it would be. So he would visit. The place became an escape with a hint of certainty because even if he found his way around, met people, tricked plenty, he’d either grow bored with time and move on, be run out with yet another enemy on the hunt for him, or gods forbid, he’d end up feeling lonely and in desperate need of some company. Company; he could find that elsewhere. Though few places are consistent. No matter what he’d do or say, Artagan never felt unwelcome in that grove. The path would always show itself to him and at the end of it, you’d be waiting. You’d welcome him with open arms. Never would you sneer upon him. Never would you curse him out. Never would he overstay his welcome because he’d always be welcome. No matter what, you’d always be there.
Perhaps at first he thought you too good, oblivious and easily taken advantage of due to your welcoming nature but Artagan knows this is not the case. You might be a creature that offers second chances, allows for growth but you are also an entity of rebirth and sometimes things have to die to be reborn. You know where the lines, and while it is flexible, you are more than capable of showing how fast the flourishing forces of Spring grow and how poisonous the most beautiful of flowers may be. Artagan has seen that poison within you. He admires it because there’s truth in the duality of nature and you do nothing to hide it. You do not feel for the rules of civilisations, nor their lies and betrayal at every corner. You do not veer towards trickery and are no more deceitful than nature itself; when it has to be a defence mechanism for survival.
You healed many a creature, found many a wanderer and always sent them on their way back to the path they belonged. Some even became visitors, having heard the stories of you, bringing you offerings and begging for your blessings like you’re some god, which you are not. You gained worshippers who’d devote their lives to find you; the keeper of the lost. Lost in all senses of the word, but your path would not show to those who do not truly wander. Only those who needed you would find you. Some would be lucky to gaze upon you once in their lifetime, a handful may have twice but only one consistently returned. Artagan of the Morncrown. His path had not shown to you instead, he found you, and kept coming back. Each time you’d offer him what you would any other but you won’t deny that this returning traveller would leave you wondering whenever he’d find you once more. He’d always return, bring you stories from beyond your grove. His was not a path you could carve or find. He wasn’t lost. Just wandering.
It was nice to have a constant in your life, someone you could have a more meaningful relationship with, someone who wouldn’t return to their world once they were whole, once their paths had been found. He wasn’t someone you had to fix. He was just there, there for you. He brought you smiles among the misery of the broken when the days were difficult. Where nearly all creatures come to fade with time, he did not. He’d return to you one way or another. You’d spend your time together and grew closer than perhaps just friends would, though neither of you made a move. Far he might wander, and stationary you might remain, homeward bound he’d always be and you’d be waiting to welcome him as if he’d only left the day before even if it were a month, a year or several. Still your paths diverged and so it remained. Until one day, those closely tied roads seemed to sever.
Syngorn speaks of war and ruin. Syngorn speaks of the return of dragons; a poison settling within their world. You heard the whispers, you’ve guided their wounded, be that to their next life, or back to their current one. You’ve seen their pain and suffering and so the bounds of your grove felt all too constraining. You had no lust for wanders but instead, would seek to repair what is broken; what shouldn’t be but the Cinderking would know ashes only, embers dead. That would be your task because you cannot care for an onslaught of lost ones if there’s no end to it. The balance would be upset and you refuse to let that happen. And so you must leave your grove. You’d mentioned the possibility to Artagan. You mentioned you would find a way to the other world and you would do as you were tasked, as you tasked those who followed you to do, because what kind of deity would you be if you do not fight for what you preach, if you do not fight to preserve those who would deify you in the first place?
He was a fool to try and tell you otherwise. A fool to think you wouldn’t do it. Artagan was made a fool of when he showed up back in that familiar grove. The path had been slower than usual, the lights less bright. No birds chirped, no critters wandered. He stood there alone. You were nowhere to be found. He called for you. You didn’t answer. You were gone. He knew where and would have tried to stop you, convince you to remain, travel with him instead of going off to fight in a different world that would not be as kind to you as yours is. Travel with him if you desire to wander but he was too late. You’d already been lost to this world. You’d crossed over. Where he knew not. When he knew not. You were gone and that grove that once felt like it might be home; felt none but empty, not but a reminder of someone he could never forget, no matter how hard he tried. So he’d try to find you. He’d find a way to the other world; the one of war and dragons, of travellers and lives so fleeting they’d be but dust in the end; if only to tell you you made a mistake. He’d cheat and bargain his way back to you even if it would take him several lifetimes among these guests. He’d find you and make sure you’d be safe even if it would cost him everything.
It did cos him greatly. He might not always be the best bargainer, and had to be more specific about his choice of words, and he might have gotten to you sooner. He’d remember their names; Vox Machina. By the time he’d gotten out, theirs would be the stories told. He could not come to them to find you, would not too or his pride be damned. He searched. for years he searched but you were nowhere to be found. Any grove seemed lacking, the energy you radiate, gone and untraceable. Artagan began doubting this is where you ended up. And with no hopes, no desire to go back to his own realm, he’d wander. The least he could do was have a little fun, right?
That little tiefling, the mischief maker, showed promise. Though she, in no way, shape or form would ever hold a candle to the burning blaze you are, he might have allowed himself to grow attached to the chaos she exerted, and as her not-so-imaginary friend he found the little girl’s deific views of him rather suiting. She called him a god, even though he wasn’t one, would never be one, but what if he could pretend? What if he could amount to the same as you once did, on his own terms and within his own domain, of course. He was the traveller always finding his way back to you, so he’d be the Traveler here, he’d grow his own followers by the grace of the girl who believed in him, who said he could. Sure she might have significantly boosted his ego but it might just have been exactly what he needed. So off into the world he went and grew to be a deity, with time, showed the girl who started it all some tricks and as her power grew, so did his. Was this what it was like for you too? He’d have to shake you from his mind if he was to pursue this path. And so your memory would be resigned to the back of his mind, under lock and key where it could not haunt him every step of the way. Sometimes he could hear the disapproving phantom whispers but he knew they were but a figment of his imagination. You are gone.
————
A little over two decades. It doesn’t mean much in the eyes of beings like Artagan. It’s a quarter of a lifetime for some. A strange revelation to adapt to lives so fast. He cares little. Events have left his little disciple grown and eventually, forced to leave her own home and travel. She’s found some friends and so he followed, keeping an eye out while he went off on his own recruiting more within this cult of his. In a little insignificant town fates collide. First a lying half-orc, moody human and bouncing tiefling are but the first to unite. Jester used her gifts of his and so he felt the need to check in. He did and what he found was rather amusing so he stuck around. More entered this fated path. A filthy wizard, and alcoholic goblin with too many issues to dive into joined the game over breakfast in the tavern. Next came the somewhat scary gentle giant and the ostentatious circus man who’s style he can only respect. That last one… Something seems off with that last one. He can’t quite place it but Artagan thinks little of it.
Meanwhile, you’d spent the last two decades doing what you could. You made a great sacrifice and it left you stranded but your work wasn’t done. This world; as broken as the next, if not more so, held many in desperate need. Not your problem. You have no intentions of changing the world. A world will remain broken. You intent to bring some good in the lives of those who would find themselves lot among the chaos. Offer them a new chance where the restrictions of laws and rules might have taken them away. You offer freedom, but little change can be made when sources dwindle. And they are. Your sources are running out. You’ve given too much and so you are not as you were before. You are a wanderer as lost as the people you helped and so you’d wander this world. So you did, staying until you were no longer needed. Your latest ward you had summoned from the earth. It didn’t take more than a nudge for a path to show itself and so you would watch over the man who would drown in soil were it for the lost life before him. You’d followed from a distance for the longest time, offering some twists of fate here and there and so the Empty became MT became Mollymauk Tealeaf. That path had only just begun and so you followed, closer this time.
A whisper upon the wind, had directed the lavender tiefling towards the tavern where he’d meet the most curious group. He didn’t know it then, they would change his life but you did. You know what intertwining paths feel like. You could say you have an eye for it. But you are no oracle. You do not see the future. You know not what one will find upon the path they set out on. You can only offer guidance and a glimpse of life and beauty in the nature you reside over. You can offer kindness and warmth to those who need it. Your senses had been numbed to where you would not recognise one power from the next. So when, in the shadows of the ethereal plane you’d appear and watch, follow the path, you saw that spark of green energy. You saw that woman’s wound turn green as the bubbly tiefling inspected it, and then changed back to normal. They had a laugh while you worried for your own lavender tiefling. You’d noticed but the light spark of that illusory magic. Familiar. It felt familiar.
Something muted caught Artagan’s attention but he brushed it off. It’s too much fun to pull a little prank on his loyal devotee and her new friends. What’s the harm in it anyway? Normally he might have thought twice about it if the energy present was enough to actually be acknowledged but now, perhaps some magic user barely strong enough to be noticeable, tied enough to his domain might be somewhere nearby but he cared little for a drunkard at the bar, or someone sleeping soft and sound upstairs. He’s occupied. They hold no significance to him. He watches this new group of Jester’s and has to admit, they might prove quite the interesting band. He swears he sees a flash of a familiar silhouette behind the scary woman and the other tiefling. Must be those pesky little memories of the past playing tricks on him. So he continues until he meets the blown wide eyes of a more than familiar face; ethereal both literally like himself and figuratively. You’re here. You truly are. Distracted you throw him and the illusion lasts a little longer than he intended but he snaps out of it.
A flower, lavender finds its way into the barbarian’s hair. A little reminder that you’ve been there. That you kept an eye out. Mollymauk knows it’s something even if he can’t exactly pinpoint he’s being watched over by a lesser idol like yourself. He’s had a feeling, caught some glimpses that something has been going on but it’s never come to haunt him, not truly and if his bullshit is supported, and tricks of the trade smoothed with a little touch of favour, why look a gift horse in the mouth? That’s why you were there in the first place; to help him because your reach did not extend so far as it used to. You’re weaker than the mediocre mages you’ve encountered. Why, you don’t know but it’s true so you’ll use your power to do what you always have done, until it runs out. The tiefling needed you, so you have been here for the past two years. But now, you meet the eyes of your constant. Artagan is here and the walls crumble. You don’t know what to do and so you run. In a flash you’re gone.
You find yourself on the shores of the lake, ankle deep in the water, feeling the gentle push of its moment. It’s a tiny inkling of power, the signal of it draining. Nature takes what is yours what you once gave freely. The world must be playing tricks on you. You felt something off when you met that blue tilling; Jester is her name, and should have known it reeked of Artagan. You should have known. In all stupidity instead of confronting your dear friend, you ran. Why you don’t even know. Are you afraid? If so why? You try to settle your thoughts. A breeze currents around you and so you dismiss it, the air growing stagnant once more and the leaves of the nearby trees stop rustling. This is too much. Too much.
