#bugboy drabbles

[wondrouswendy]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Hey all, this was my McHanzine piece for the section “In Another Life.” I worked on it with @ijaat. @mchanzinecontributors Thanks for reading!

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Overwatch (Video Game) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada, Jesse McCree & Hanzo Shimada Characters: Jesse McCree, Hanzo Shimada Additional Tags: Archaeology, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Adventure, Friendship/Love, unrequited pining, Mutual Pining, Romance, Idiots Argue Over Feelings, Background Genji Shimada/Angela “Mercy” Ziegler Summary:

Hanzo Shimada is an esteemed, well-respected archaeologist from the University of London. Jesse McCree is an American mercenary hired to protect Professor Shimada on an excursion through the ruins of ancient Greece. When treasure hunters come to their dig, Hanzo and McCree must hold them off to protect the historical artifacts in the many nearby tombs.

Nothing is ever easy. Not when life, death, the past, and the future are all on the line.

(McHanzo Indiana Jones/The Mummy/Tomb Raider style AU)

[wondrouswendy]

Here is a teaser for the piece I’m working on for the @mchanzine titled Bullseye! I am writing for the section titled “In Another Life,” which is for AU pieces. 

This is an Indiana Jones/The Mummy/Tomb Raider inspired AU, with artistic inspiration coming from @radio-silents 1930s McHanzo AU artwork (whom I have asked for permission to write a piece for this zine based upon their artwork). Basically, in this work, Hanzo is an esteemed, world famous archaeologist/professor, and Jesse is his American cowboy bodyguard. I don’t want to reveal too much more, but I hope you all will enjoy it once it’s published in the Bullseye zine!

I look forward to seeing how the zine continues to come together. I’m really pleased to be working with the others on this project. Preorders will be out soon! Check here for more info!   ❤

[wondrouswendy]

Petals on the River (Historical Overwatch AU)

Fandom: Overwatch

Rating: T for now, to be bumped up appropriately in future chapters.

Chapter: 1/?

Relationships: Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada, Gabriel Reyes/Jack Morrison, Angela Ziegler/Genji Shimada, Lena Oxton/Amelie Lacroix, and more to come.

Characters: Jesse McCree, Hanzo Shimada, Genji Shimada, Gabriel Reyes, Jack Morrison, Angela Ziegler, Lena Oxton, Amelie Lacroix.

Summary: Hanzo didn't know what to expect when he left Japan, but with his brother at this side, he would do anything to keep him safe. Even leave everything he knew, loved, and understood behind. Fleeing to California seemed like an extraordinarily outlandish idea, but his brother assured him that the southwest was a land of mystery, beauty, and romance--at least that's what his novels told him. Hanzo doesn't want to look over his shoulder for the rest of his life, so without hesitation, Genji closes his eyes before the train station's map, points, and tells his brother that's their destination. A little town out in the desert, away from the lights and busy streets of Los Angeles, where they'll start anew.

Notes: Historical AU without the historical inequalities, set roughly in the 1920s, Western AU, where McCree owns a bar, Jack’s town sheriff, Gabriel’s a rancher and is married to Jack, Angela’s the town doctor, Lena owns an inn, and Amelie’s the town schoolmaster.

Also viewable on Ao3.

The train rumbles against the tracks as Hanzo Shimada stares out the window watching the flat desert landscape pass by. The early morning sun rises slowly in the East over the silhouette of tall mountain ridges cloaked in darkness. In his own boredom, he tries counting the number of strange horizontal plants he had seen littered across the plane until his brother Genji’s low snoring jostles him from his stupor.

Hanzo read many books in his youth about the continent across the ocean, about a place of conflict and stubborn historical perseverance. Where the authors described how a man could make his own path, no matter his past. Where virtues such as freedom and happiness were long sought after dreams for even the lowest individuals of a class-based society. It all seemed so fanciful, so far out of reach.

Genji, however, didn’t care much for the histories, even the history of Japan--unless the story involved a good battle, humor, or a forbidden romance. He read fiction, whatever he could get his hands on, and the stories found between those pages often made Hanzo scoff.

Combined, the texts he and his brother read growing up while laying under sakura trees always seemed so far off, so out of reach when they lived in a world of complete order, filial piety, and the weight of legacy. For having read so many historical texts, Hanzo didn’t like history. It only filled him with indecision, regret, and shame.

Beside him, Genji shifts and lays his head against his brother’s shoulder. Hanzo folds his arms tighter across his chest. For his brother, he would carry any burden, any shame, and any form of dishonor thrust upon them for leaving Hanamura. He would carry the burden of disappointing their father and their ancestors, he would carry the burden of leaving their ancestral home and the spirits that laid dormant in their family’s shrine, abandoning centuries of meticulous care. Deep in his heart he always wished that history would forgive him for his decision to leave everything behind for Genji.

Hanzo watches what he believes to be the same cactus he saw earlier pass by outside the window. The Californian desert looks so different, so foreign, so otherworldly. During the first part of their journey from Los Angeles, Hanzo could barely pull Genji away from the window to look out at the landscape. He was almost ashamed to admit his younger brother acted and behaved like a damn tourist, but in reality this was the first time Genji had left the stone walls that surrounded their ancestral home. Genji had become entranced in the romance of a world with no boundaries unlike the world they had grown up in. He can’t blame his brother for being excited, even if it’s excitement over the unknown.

Hanzo sighs as yet another cluster of cacti litter the landscape. He presses his head against the window, digs into his pocket, and retrieves the train ticket. A one way trip. Los Angeles to Twenty Nine Palms. Hanzo doesn’t know why that specific number, he doesn’t know why any one person could name a town something as ridiculous as that, but it was the place Genji chose on the map they saw at the train station. He almost wishes his brother had kept his eyes open as he picked the town where they were going to start over in America.

The sun appears on the eastern horizon and early morning light filters through the dirty window. The sunlight cascades over the desert valley, shading the dirt and rock and flora with shades of purple and orange. Hanzo always loved watching the sunrise over Hanamura, when the sun would peer through the cherry blossoms and give them an ethereal, heavenly glow. If there could only be one part of Japan he would truly miss, it was the sakura. The beautiful flower taught Hanzo the most important lesson of all: that life was precious, fleeting, and even when difficult times fell upon him like the dead of winter, spring (and joy) would return again.

There would be no going back for either of them. Not so long as his brother’s life remained threatened by the elders of the Shimada clan. Perhaps they could find happiness after all in America, on a different shore. Genji’s endless optimism seemed to think so.

“Brother.”

Hanzo glances to his left to Genji, who has not opened his eyes, but has begun to wake up.

“Do you think we will meet a real life cowboy?”

“Perhaps,” Hanzo replies softly.

For Genji’s sake, he hopes they’re everything like the stories he read as a boy and more. He wants the West to be as wild and as uncharted and as romantic as the younger man believes it to be, with all the grit and grime and mystery the novels emulated. He wants the truth to be as spectacular as the legend.

They still have another hour before they pull into the station. His eyes fall closed as the scenery repeats itself once more. He recalls a line from one of Genji’s notorious harlequin novels he was forced to read in order to ensure his brother kept smiling,

This is the West, sir. When the legend becomes fact...print the legend.

[wondrouswendy]

Yu Gonplei Ste Odon

(An AU where Clarke falls in battle with the Mountain Men after fighting alongside Lexa and saving her life.)

Clarke stood with her people in the fray. She heard blades clash with flesh, the sound of bullets firing through the air, and the moans of the dying all around her.

They had penetrated the mountain men’s inner defenses by pulling the door wide open. And when their soldiers came from the hills, they shot suppreessive fire down upon her people and the Grounders. They had been flanked and were fighting a two front battle on the ground. The mountain men kept pouring through their door without hazmat suits. They were treated, cured, but they could still die—each and every one—by her hand alone. Blood must have blood.

Lincoln fought beside her, covering her as she shouted orders of attack. Aim for the areas not covered by vests, aim for the head, between the eyes, aim for the legs, the knees—anywhere but the chest. The mountain men had guns, they had grenades, they had a missile and their fog, they had the safety of their walls, but they didn’t have armor. They had riot gear.

Clarke turned her head and saw Lexa fighting three mountain men at once. She parried their bullets with her longsword, roared, and then brought her sword down upon one man, splitting his skull in two. The other remaining mountain men fired their bullets, but they could not shoot her down. She came at them, screaming in Grounder, and decapitated one deftly.

With the last remaining, Clarke saw him try to run. The Commander would not allow it. No mercy for the guilty. Clarke blinked in the fray and watched her make chase and her stomach dropped. She had a bad feeling about what Lexa was about to do.

Clarke ran after her in the middle of battle, racing between smaller battles between Grounder, Sky Person, and Mountain Man. She heard Lincoln shouting after her, but she could not let Lexa have this kill. Something was wrong. Clarke caught up with Lexa and saw her being overwhelmed by Mountain Men. The Commander had fallen into a trap and had been restrained. Lexa panted and fought against them like a wild wolf nonetheless. Blood covered her mouth and one of the Mountain Men had lost an ear.

Clarke approached cautiously, raised her gun and shot two of the men dead as she entered the small clearing away from the main battle. The Mountain Men held onto Lexa tighter and one raised a blade to her neck. They threatened Clarke, bragged about their success in capturing the Grounder Commander, and explained their plan to turn her into the ultimate Reaper.

None of it shook Clarke. Adrenaline ran through her veins and she kept her gun raised. She waited patiently as she listened to their heinous plans for the Commander. She took their words with a heavy heart because she knew that she loved the Commander despite her own fears. She loved the Commander, it was her weakness, but she would not let Lexa fall.

When Clarke saw a white flower in the canopy of trees above them, she made her move. As her own shot rang out into one of the Mountain Men, an arrow shot through the neck of the other, thus freeing Lexa.

Clarke rushed over to Lexa and caught her as the Commander fell to her knees. Clarke held her as Lexa clutched onto her shoulders in a firm grip.

"You came for me, Clarke."

Lexa’s breathy words made Clarke’s heart clench in her chest. There was no point denying it now.

"I came because I couldn’t let you throw your life in the pursuit of vengeance."

"Jus drein, jus draun."

"The fights dying out there. We’re winning. The Mountain Men are falling back. This was a desperate attempt on your life, Lexa. We need to go back."

Lexa nodded, but remained still for a moment more. She loosened her grip on Clarke’s jacket and ran her hand up to Clarke’s neck. Her rough fingers brushed against the small area of exposed flesh and buried into her long blonde hair. Clarke remained still, with her heart racing. Lexa pulled away to look into Clarke’s eyes. She had never felt this vulnerable before, as Lexa could see right through her.

"You asked me Lexa what I wanted to do after this battle was won. I want to go with you."

Lexa’s lips curled into a small, rare smile. She was exhausted and wounded, but she had the strength to lean forward and brush her lips against Clarke’s gently. Clarke returned her kiss, if timidly, and her hand rose to cup Lexa’s jaw.

"Ai hod yu in," she breathed when she pulled away.

Clarke didn’t need a translation. Her head was spinning. She heard the battle not far away. She heard a horn bellow throughout the forest. It was the sound of victory. They had won. The weights on her chest suddenly seemed lighter. She took a deep breath and felt hot tears spill down her cheeks in relief.

"Ai…hod," Clarke said carefully, "yu—"

A shot rang out and a bullet pierced her back into her lungs. Clarke blinked and Lexa pulled away to see a dying mountain man holding his gun in a trembling hand.

"I…I hope… you dirty…filthy Grounder—"

Lexa did not let the dying man finishing his sentence. She grabbed her spent blade and brought it down upon the man’s chest, silencing all speech. She quickly turned back to Clarke who was clutching at a hole in her chest. Blood covered her hand. Moments later Lincoln appeared in the small clearing.

"Clarke! Clarke!" Lexa yelled as she picked up the blonde and held her in her arms. "Stay with me, fight, damn you!"

"Lexa…"

Clarke was fading. Darkness crept on the edges of her vision as Lexa ran with Lincoln at her side. She heard Lexa shouting orders at him, and then her. Clarke had never heard such desperation in the fearless Commander. Perhaps it was because Lexa had one fear at her very core: losing the people she loved.

"Lex…Lexa," Clarke groaned. "Stop."

"No, Clarke, I need to get you to your mother. Your fight is not over yet! I won’t allow it!"

"Yes it is."

Lexa stopped running. She looked down at Clarke in her arms and her lips parted in a silence.

"Do you believe that the commander of the Sky People can be reincarnated?" Clarke asked above barely a whisper.

"I…I don’t know."

Clarke smiled up at Lexa. “Then maybe…it’s not the end.”

Clarke grew limp in Lexa’s arms.

"Ai hod yu in. Yu gonplei ste odon."

x X x

Three days passed between the Grounders and the Sky People. A feast was held in Commander Clarke’s name on the first, ritual pre-burial practices took place on the second, and on the third, the burial was to take place in a clearing in a beautiful clearing between the Grounder and Sky People camps. Clarke Griffin had come to belong to both camps. She was the bridge that kept peace. Now, in the aftermath of the great battle that took her life, there were fears about what would happen next.

Lexa came to Camp Jaha to walk with the funeral procession that would take Clarke to her final resting place on the ground. Her fight was over. She had secured peace for those remaining at long last. Her purpose had been fulfilled. It didn’t make the pain any easier neither Lexa nor Clarke’s loved ones.

Lexa stood over Clarke’s body dressed in the only pair of fresh clothes that could be found in the camp. Lexa thought she looked peaceful, at the very least, but there was something different about her forehead. As Lexa bent forward to look, she was shocked to discover a similar mark as the one on her own forehead. Lexa stood there in confusion and hope. Had her ancestors found Clarke in the afterlife? Had they gifted her with life anew?

Her questions were answered when Clarke opened her eyes.

[wondrouswendy]

Candy Hearts

Billie taps Zaine's shoulder and he stirs from his nap with their son, little baby Zathrain. He holds Rain to his chest on the couch and carefully cradles him as he sits upright. He blinks to get the sleep out of his eyes and sees his four month pregnant wife holding a tray in front of her.

"I made us some dinner if you're hungry. Well, you get normal food I get a weird concoction."

"What are your taste buds wanting now?"

"Chocolate drizzled over steak."

He raises a brow. "Seriously?"

Billie grins and laughs. "I'm dead serious, look for yourself handsome."

She places the tray down on their small table and Billie sits down on the couch beside him. She takes Rain into her arms as he too stirs from his sleep.

"He slept the entire time."

"Good," she unbuttons her shirt, touches Rain's cheek, and starts to nurse him. She runs her fingers gently over his hair and reclines more comfortably against the couch.

"I'm tempted to try a bite of your steak and chocolate."

She gestures for him to try some. He leans down to cut a piece of the steak drizzled with chocolate fudge and sprinkles and takes it into his mouth. He groans at the taste.

"It's actually a great combination for once."

"Pickles and cereal was a fantastic combination."

"I thought you were joking that time around," he laughs and cuts up a few bites for her to have. He offers her a few pieces and Billie sighs. "As good as you thought."

She nods as she chews. "Stars it's like a party in my mouth." She licks her lips. "I wanted something with chocolate for the holiday. Check out your plate."

Zaine lifts the cover on his plate and sees a piece of steak with small chalky candy hearts lined up in a row. Each candy is light blue or green and each piece has a phrase. Billie's lined up the hearts to make a phrase.

It reads: I luv u be mine u r a naughty hottie kiss me.

Zaine smiles, and before he starts his dinner, he turns and cups her cheek to kiss her. He smooths her hair behind her ear then toys with the tips.

"You're the naughty one, Billie."

"I would say that the torch has been passed to you," she whispers. "Teasing me with those wandering hands of yours, grabbing my ass in the kitchen, tracing my ear and my lips when you think I'm sleeping. You know what all that does to me. And you're definitely a hottie, Zaine."

He kisses her again, mindful of little Rain, and when he pulls away he gently pats Rain's head and trails his hand down her somewhat endowed abdomen to slip under her shirt. His palm lingers there and the Force is present but weaker; their daughter will not be as nearly Force sensitive as Rain, but he still senses her there.

"I love you Billie."

"I know handsome, I love you too."

They settle back comfortably against the couch and Zaine turns on the live Huttball game for them to watch. As they eat their dinner Verd'ika jumps onto the couch and snuggles in between them with his toy bone. After dinner and after Rain's finished nursing, Zaine wraps his arm around Billie and holds her close. He kisses her forehead again because he can't help himself. Every day with her is one he cherishes, every moment, every time he sees her laugh or smile his way, every time she says that she loves him it fills his heart until it swells in his chest.

After waiting for what's felt like centuries, he has a wife, a son, and a daughter on the way. He has a family, and when Billie turns to point out a successful pass with a grin, he stares at her and knows that nothing in the galaxy compares than seeing her like this. Billie was worth the wait and more--and every day he aims to show her the depth of his love as a lover, husband, and father.

[wondrouswendy]

A Room With a View

No matter how much Zenith proclaims to be focused on his work and on Balmorra, no matter how detached he appears to be, he's taken precise care to study the members of Gaerwen Aurell's crew. He's heard of many of the planets represented by the Rift Alliance diplomats. 

Tobas and Nadia Grell are family, but Zenith sees secrets where others don't despite their kind, welcoming and humble attitude. The Selkath is self-centered, entirely focused on Manaan and his people; Zenith can understand that. Alauni is the most annoying, and it hasn't been hard spying on her. She makes herself and her planet's problems known whether people want to hear it or not. Tharan Cedrax is in an obsessive romance with a hologram, of all things, having been turned down by Gaerwen, and Holiday is nosy. He doesn't like people, especially AI, getting into his business. Qyzen is a recluse, he comes and goes on hunts and helps provide support to Gaerwen. They talk often in the mess hall about his journeys. The trandoshan's too preoccupied with his own honor to redeem to serve as a possible threat. 

The one person he can't make out is Gaerwen. Since Balmorra she's puzzled him, she's left him with more questions than answers, and he doesn't understand why Tai asked him to stay on as a representative of Balmorra instead of cleaning up his home of straggler Imperials. She's too perfect, and it makes him suspicious. He's vowed to fight for her, he'll at least give her that, but he doesn't trust her. He's keen to uncover anything he can to prove that she's no better than the rest of the Jedi who came and went on Balmorra. 

Zenith's kept a close eye on her. He's followed her around the ship, overheard her conversations. He's contemplated reading her messages and tapping her holoterminal, but he hasn't resorted to it yet. He's watched her fight in combat. They saved each other's lives on Quesh but he still doesn't trust her. He's watched her help the innocent and the sick on planets they stop at to refuel, he's watched her help kittens out of trees, and heard her laugh at even the worst jokes in order to make others smile. He's seen her tears as she held the hands of dying people, he's seen her help to bring new life into the world, he's watched her window shop to buy surprise gifts for her crew, even him, and yet none of it makes sense. He doesn't understand it. 

Everyone else is as clear as water and yet she's a mystery. Nadia, Tobas, and Qyzen give back, but it's nothing comparable to what she's done for them. The random civilians they cross paths don't pay her or give her some form of tribute. Everyone is in her debt and yet she asks for nothing. No one's a saint. 

Zenith stares at her now and then as he watches her and Nadia study an old worn table they picked up from Tython on their last vision. To no one's surprise, Gaerwen knows the language on the tablet, and it's a rare trait in the galaxy; the language is long dead. 

He watches as Nadia listens intently, pointing at glyphs on the big tablet and asking about this or that. Gaerwen's arm is no longer in a sling, but she's still careful about it. She tells Nadia about the ancient legend described by the text, and Zenith looks up from his rifle when he hears her laugh. 

Gaerwen's smile is so broad, so effortlessly happy. Her blue eyes are wide, her features seem to glow, and her red hair follows the curve of her face. In this lighting he can almost see every freckle on her cheeks. Her lips are pale and pink, and she bites her bottom one as she watches with glee as Nadia starts to catch on with the translation. His eyes remain focused on the shape of her lips and the rosy flush of her skin. The two women grow more excited and giddy as it comes easier. 

He doesn't realize how intensely he's staring until Wendy catches him. She blinks at him, as if she's surprised to find him there. Her smile only grows wider. She waves at him and then turns to look back at Nadia. 

Zenith's heart feels like it stopped in his chest, and his brows aren't pursed. She's given him a moment of her attention and time and smiled at him. She even waved across the room. 

She's perfect. 

  Zenith's watched her for the past weeks with suspicion and uncertainty, but he's watched her. He's been looking for her flaws and yet all he's found are her strengths and her qualities that make her so...

Zenith's eyes wander down over Wendy's frame to look at the little heart shaped rock pendant hanging below her. He sees a glimpse of her cleavage as her clothes shift as she bends forward over the tablet with a magnifying glass. He should have cleaned up after training. He should have put on a different shirt, the one she gave him, perhaps. His palms feel sweaty and he shakes his head, stirring himself to look away. 

Zenith tries to refocus on his rifle. He got blood on it last time they were out, and he doesn't even pick up the rag again because all he can think about is her smile and the realization that has come over him. He's been watching her from afar and wanting her without even knowing. He's wanted to hold her long soft fingers against his own, he's wanted to speak with her about more than just  politics and their work. He doesn't know where to start. 

Zenith looks away from her back to his rifle. He absentmindedly cleans it. He wouldn't know what to say. She's graceful with her words like she is on her feet in combat. He suddenly feels like Tharan Cedrax, fussing over wanting a girl's attention. But Gaerwen is a woman, a proud, beautiful, honorable one. 

Zenith doesn't know what to do. As he keeps looking from the rifle to Gaerwen, back and forth, he decides that until he figures it out, he'll stay back. The view is worth it, for now.

[wondrouswendy]

Isolde's suprised but relieved to find Skyhold's garden empty. With her copy of Hard in Hightown, she moves to sit at one of the empty benches to read. Instead, as she steps into the garden more, she sees one occupant who no doubt needs as much peace as her. Hawke. People didn't seem to call her by her first name. Isolde can empathize, but she realizes she doesn't even remember Hawke's. She blushes in embarrassment. She scratches her neck and isn't sure if she should say hello or leave the other woman be. Everyone heals differently.

Instead, she realizes, Hawke's crying and hasn't noticed her staring. She blinks, stunned momentarily, and then she steps onto the grass. This catches Hawke's eyes. The older woman sighs and shakes her head sadly. "Sorry. I'm a bit of a mess right now and don't feel like sorting it out at the tavern." Isolde nods and comes to sit by Hawke. She reaches into her pocket and offers her handkerchief, which the other woman takes. "Hard in Hightown, huh?" "What?" "The book in your lap." Hawke wipes her eyes and then lowers her hand. "That god awful book." Isolde laughs and smiles sheepishly. "It's not that bad." "It's pure smut and he knows it." Hawke shakes her head and smirks. "I guess everybody needs a hobby in this world, even perverse ones." "You've read his books?" "I've known Varric for awhile. I didn't need to read them, he's read them aloud to me so many times. We've had drinking contests to his books." She pauses and shrugs. "Haven't read The Tale of the Champion yet, don't tell him that, please." "I sure hope he doesn't write a book about me." "Knowing Varric he's got an entire series lined up for you, lined up with facts you didn't even know about yourself. I don't know if he'll write smut of the Herald of Andraste though, less he's looking for some divine reckoning. Though I imagine it would sell well." Isolde laughs and shakes her head. "If he wrote a book about me I'd have Cassandra personally interrogate him again." Hawke smiles. She curls a strand of her hair behind her ear. "I never read the book because it's hard. Reading about the people you love, reading it as you're an outside observer, it's like a novel. It's hard to not want everyone to come out alright in the end. It would be like reading my memories. I'd hear their voices fresh in my mind like it was yesterday. The way my brother laughed. The sigh in my mother's voice. I can't do it. Maybe someday." Isolde fidgets and shrugs. "You don't have to ever read it, you know." "I know. I don't want to read a larger than life story about myself and realize I've got to meet my other self's expectations." Isolde frowns. Had Hawke even had a say? "I guess in the end I don't really care either way. It's me but it's not really me in the end. I'm flattered Varric likes me enough to write a book about me over that Bianca of his, but the real story is always less exciting. But I guess there's some merit in that." Hawke's opened the door to sharing about herself since Adamant, and Isolde can't help her curiosity. "What happened to Anders? Are you two still--" "We ran for a long time. We were sparking fires in the mage circles. Getting people to rebel. We had started the war and we couldn't stop it even when Anders realized what he'd done in the name of Justice. At the same time, we--I--couldn't sit back any longer. Suddenly everyone's an apostate. But as you've learned, that's not necessarily a bad thing anymore. That word has lost it's venom. People look at you, the Herald of Andraste, and see a leader. They see you've banded templars and mages under one roof and they're not scared anymore. I guess what Anders did opened the door for that discussion that otherwise wasn't happening out in the open." Isolde nods. Even if she has mixed feelings about the titles weighing on her shoulders, she knows what she's done for Thedas' mages. She's made a statement, whether she wanted to or not.

"If you're looking for a little bit of romance with your drama, well, Isabela married us when we first left Kirkwall."

Hawke turns her head towards Isolde and smiles. "I know it's hard carrying those titles and all the expectations around you. If you want to ask me, I think you've handled yourself very bravely. Not many people can take on a power that's in your hand and control it like you have. Not many people can look at someone who's committed grave crimes and show mercy. Not many people can boast they've conquered their fears the way you have." She scratches her neck and shrugs. "I guess I just want to say I think you're doing a good job. I thought you should know that before I took off."

Hawke places her hand on Isolde's shoulder and grips it under her palm. "Take care out there, alright?"

Isolde nods and Hawke leaves without another word. It's only after she's left that Isolde realizes she didn't ask for her name.

[wondrouswendy]

Importance