"Wait are you actually scared" with Cyrus and Darren!
In which Cyrus gets stuck with the freshmen kiddo for that year’s Halloween scavenger hunt... (approx 1500 words, most under the cut <3)
“Of all the fucking freshmen, how the hell did I get stuckwith you?” Cyrus’ expression was as dark as the night sky that stretched abovethe pair, finally at the front of the line that wound its way down the street.Before them loomed a large, dark manor, decorated specifically for the holiday,its typically austere appearance transformed into something foreboding andderelict with clever application of magic and time. Beside Cyrus was the sourceof his frustration, and he glared sharply at Darren, who stood blue-eyed andblonde haired, gawping at the Haunted House.
“Are we… going in there?”he asked, swallowing and shifting slightly, as though his feet were itchyinside his shoes. They were both in costumes, which had been allocated by thefraternity’s event organiser. A pair costume, as it were, for added humiliation.So, Cyrus was waiting impatiently in a red tie, grey vest, and dark suit jacketwith fur trim, his sour expression concealed by a wolfish half-mask. For Darren’spart, he was dressed in a bright red hood, his golden hair peeking out frombeneath, a woven basket clutched close to his chest. The hands that held itwere white at the knuckles.
“Nah, we’re justhere to look at it,” Cyrus drawled, rolling his eyes, although the effect waslargely lost behind the mask. “Yes, we’re going in, genius. Didn’t you read the stupid hunt sheet? We need a pictureinside the basement.”
The annual Halloween scavenger hunt. Normally pretty fun,provided you’re not saddled with the new kid who looked fresher than a newlyminted coin. Darren was all wide-eyes and slack-jawed wonder, gazing ateverything around him as though seeing it for the first time. Apparently he wasa farm boy, come to university on some kind of grant. Not all that surprising. Regardless,being paired with him was almost enough to make Cyrus want to give up and goback to the frat house in disgrace.
Almost.
The line moved and the ticket collector took their slips andwaved them in. Muttering darkly to himself, Cyrus stalked off ahead, steppingthrough the door and into the house, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the dimlighting of the wall sconces. He heard Darren’s footsteps patter up the porchand come to a halt directly behind him. In fact, he was so close that if Cyrusstepped back, he would barrel right into the kid. “You wanna crawl into my coator something?” he hissed, glancing back at the short blonde. “Back off.”
“S-Sorry!” The reply was more a squeak than a word, andCyrus just sighed, shaking his head. Thiswas going to be a long night.
“Come on. We need to find the basement, so look for stairsgoing down.”
They started walking, squinting around, peering through thedoors that weren’t locked, always wary of someone potentially leaping out toscare them. So far, nothing had happened, but when Cyrus paused to listen forsounds he heard something far stranger. It almost sounded like…
“… Are you crying?”
“N-No!”
Turning around, Cyrus fixed his Little Red with anincredulous look, because the kid was indeed on the verge of tears, sniffingevery now and then, jittering every time a floorboard creaked as though itcould somehow tear free of the ground and kill him. “Fuck,” Cyrus groaned, running a hand over his face, accidentallyswiping the mask down before ripping it off in frustration. “Come on. Spit itout. What’s wrong with you.” It was not a question. It was a demand.
Darren seemed to wilt at his tone, lips pursed tight, willinghimself to calm down. As though ashamed. “N-Nothing,” he managed to whisper, voicetight and threadbare. “Let’s just find the stairs and get out of here, okay?”
Maybe he’s not well,Cyrus rationalised, but in the end he just shrugged and returned to his task.After all, the sooner this was done, the sooner he could stop babysitting andget to the real fun.
It took about ten minutes until they found the stairs.Ushering Darren over, Cyrus descended first, the younger man practically gluedto his heels for fear of being left behind in the dark house. But Cyrus didn’tbother scolding him this time – what good would it do? – and reached out,opening the door at the bottom of the stairs. It creaked like an old man’sbones, edging open inch by inch for a moment before Cyrus lost patience andshouldered his way inside. Darren followed, and soon they were standing in whatdefinitely looked like some kind of ‘spooky’ storage area. It was decoratedwith cobwebs. That was about it.
“Well… kinda underwhelming, huh?” Cyrus mused with a snort.Darren just made a small, pained noise, the handle of his basket actuallycoming apart from how tight his grip was.
“Just take the photo,” he pleaded, swallowing thickly. “Please. I… I want to go.”
“Fine.”
Cyrus reached around, looking for his phone in one of hispockets, brow furrowing in annoyance as he searched…
… then the door slammed shut
The two men were plunged into darkness with nothing butDarren’s shrill yelp to announce it. Swearing, Cyrus groped about, trying tomake his way to the door, his quest for his phone forgotten in favour of thesmall amount of light they had had before. “They must think they’re fucking hilarious,”Cyrus growled, slapping at the door until he found the handle. “Real clever. Assholes. Probably pissing themselveslaughing out there like a bunch of five year olds…”
He turned the knob, but it jarred halfway. Locked. At that, Cyrus’ brows rose, thensnapped into a sharper, harder frown than before. “Those motherfuckers!” He kicked the door infrustration, boot rebounding off solid wood and sending him staggering back afew steps. “Hey, Little Red, where are you? Say something. It’s going to belike fucking Marco Polo in here until we get some light.”
There was nothing for a moment, and Cyrus was surprised whenhe actually felt a pang of worry. Then he heard the soft sound, coming from thefar wall. Short, hitching breaths, quiet as though muffled by a thick redcloak. Some of the anger bled out of Cyrus in that moment, the dark taking awaythe visceral need for him to wear it like a badge. Instead, he walked towardsthe sound, careful of the boxes and crates. “Wait… are you actually scared?”
The sound just got louder for a moment, shame adding to thefear to create a cocktail even Cyrus would not drink. He sighed, then droppedinto a crouch, assuming he was relatively close to the kid. “Come on. Get agrip. It’s all just a big fucking joke. Nothing’s going to happen to you.”
“I k-know,” Darren replied, sniffling and breathless. “Just…d-don’t like it… is all. The d-dark and… scary stuff.”
Cyrus raised his eyes to the ceiling, grateful for thedarkness hiding his lack of sympathy. “Then why the fuck did you agree to do this?”he demanded. “Seems kinda stupid, don’t you think? The Haunted House isliterally the least scary thing on the list and you’re already in tears.”
There was a pause. A shallow, half-drawn breath. Then, afaint voice. “I… wanted to fit in.” The sobs started back up again, short andpunctuating each word. “E-Everyone likes you,s-so I thought maybe, i-if I… if we…”There was a sound of shifting fabric, and Cyrus assumed Darren was wiping hiseyes. “I t-thought… maybe they’d like me too.”
Cyrus let his eyes close for a moment, not that he couldreally tell a difference thanks to the dark. “Shit, kid. You really are oblivious.” Despite the words, histone was, for the first time, far from scolding. It was almost… fond. Ratherthan shatter the kid’s illusion of him, Cyrus just sighed and reached around,remembering at last where his phone was. He caught Darren’s arm, felt theyounger man jump and gasp, then ground his teeth. “Relax,” Cyrus instructedsharply. “Just give me your basket. My phone’s got a torch.”
There was the hushed sound of small movements, then Darrenpushed something up against Cyrus’ knees. Reaching into it, he fished arounduntil he found his phone. He held down a button on the side until a brightlight suddenly flooded the room. Darren winced, turning away, his hood fallingdown to mostly conceal his face. Cyrus also hissed, covering the light with hishand, muting it through the gaps in his fingers. “Fuck,” he grunted, then shookhis head. “Come on. Let’s take the photo then…”
He trailed off, seeing Darren for the first time as theyounger man came out of hiding, the light now reduced to a bearable level. Theblue of his eyes was all the more vibrant for the red that ringed them, hisface puffy and flushed from crying. It was pathetic. It was probably the mostchildish shit Cyrus had ever seen since passing the age of ten.
And it made him feel like a real fucking asshole.
There was a soft click; the sound of a door unlocking behindhim as someone decided they’d spent enough time in the dark. Cyrus wasn’t surethe exact moment he made up his mind, but before he knew what he was doing, hewas standing, holding his hand out to the blonde. “Come on,” he urged grufflywhen Darren just stared at it, confused. He rolled his eyes. “Take it and let’sgo.”
“B-But what about the—?“
“Fuck the photo and this scavenger shit. Who needs itanyway.” When Darren finally took Cyrus’ hand, he hauled the kid to his feetwith a grunt. “Prize is always crap.” There was a pause, and both young menstood awkwardly in it, as though occupying a space clearly meant for someoneelse.
“Than—” Darren began, but Cyrus cut him off before he couldfinish.
“You said this was your first time in a city,” he saidquickly. He didn’t want a thank you. It was strange - he’d made plenty ofpeople cry - but for some reason this kid made him feel bad about it. “Got anything you wanted to do?”
Darren blinked a few times, eyes still watery and stinging.He thought for a moment, then sniffed, a faint smile quirking up the corner ofhis quivering lips. “T-There’s this fountain. My ma had a calendar with apicture of it. Didn’t matter that the year was passed. She just kept it up becauseshe liked it.” He reached up, rubbing his eyes roughly, as though frustratedwith himself for still being teary. “Said I’d… get a picture at it for her. Soshe could finally put that old calendar away.”
It was… actually kind of sweet, as much as Cyrus hated toadmit it. Besides, at the end of the day, it sounded like a better way to passthe time than some stupid frat event. “I think I know the one,” he said simply,then walked over to the door. Grasping the handle, he glanced back at Darren,who had yet to move. “Well? You coming or not?”
A beat passed. Cyrus turned the handle and the door swungopen. He stepped out… then felt the familiar press of Darren at his heels, thatstupid basket of his nudging against his back. “Yeah,” the younger man breathed,still too frightened to speak at a regular volume, but there was a clear noteof relief and perhaps excitement in his voice. “I’m coming.”
Despite knowing that Shanedan’s personal thoughts on her interactions with Cyrus that morning was bordering on being downright abysmal, Assan couldn’t help but admit to herself that she thought that blue-eyed black-haired human’s sassiness was adorable, like a disgruntled puppy, all teeth and thinking he’s looking all sorts of vicious when she could just reach out and pop him on the snoot if she felt like it.
This was providing she didn’t have a good idea that Cyrus would crack her just for trying and she knew that he could too.
It wasn’t often that she got to witness a spar that honestly put her brother on his toes. He didn’t sweat from mere exercises like that very frequently. But the thing about exercises was that they could still strain and she kept eyeing her brother all through the remainder of the training session until the squad leader, Hanin, dismissed them for the morning.
Shanedan wouldn’t drop one of his weapons to strengthen his defense unless his shoulder was bothering him.
If it was though, he didn’t show any sign of it.
But then again, this was still Shanedan she was thinking of.
He had been that way all her life, pretending nothing was wrong, everything was fine. That his hurts weren’t worth making others worry. She was his baby sister and she still couldn’t convince him that his thoughts, concerns, and pain mattered just as much as anyone else’s.
She wished she could take away those scars and those memories and just let him trust and feel freely.
As they retreated from the training ground, Shanedan met her eye and he spared her a smile like a wince. Fleeting and soft like wet clay. “Are you going back to bed?” he asked, knowing that it was still early for her. She didn’t like being awake at this hour and normally, she would have but not after a spar that had gotten her blood pumping.
Assan wrinkled her lip and shrugged, “There’s no way I’ll be able to sleep after a training session like that.”
“Would you join me for breakfast then?”
Their eyes met and she saw it.
The little bits of emotions in his eyes that he couldn’t restrain despite all of his self-imposed self-control that he had mastered. That was how she knew when things were real for him, that he wasn’t acting.
That expression in his eyes was more important to her than every luke warm smile he had ever worn.
One day she hoped she would be able to see that emotion bleed into the rest of his face, so the rest of the world could see what she saw.
“Yeah. I think I will,” Assan stated before giving him a light-hearted swat on the small of the back, “Go on ahead though, I’ll meet you there.”
A subtle dark brow of his rose in mild curiosity.
“Alright.”
He never did pry into her own personal matters, giving her faith in whatever it was she was going to do, and Assan watched as Shanedan walked to the kitchens to gather them some breakfast.
As soon as he was out of view though, she sprinted back to their lodging to look for the ridiculous bag of seeds Shanedan had made forever ago to deal with muscle aches, dropping a couple hot coals from the dying hearth into the bag and retying it before she snatched up the fur-lined boots she had bought him for his birthday a couple years back and hurried along to meet him at the kitchens.
One of these days her brother was going to lose his feet to frostbite walking around the way he did in his Dalish leggings with nothing else, she was damn sure of it.
Every elf she had seen in Skyhold wore shoes, even that new squad leader of theirs.
Stupid boy.
Shanedan Shanedan looked up from whoever it was he was talking to shortly after she took her first few strides into the hall, taking her by surprise when she realized that he was sitting with a few members of their new team, one of them the sturdy looking human with brown eyes and a scar at his mouth, that cute blonde elf girl too, and not far from him was the jumpy kid and captain asshole himself.
She had known her brother all her life and sometimes it still took her by surprise that he could hear her in such a crowded place. Assan knew that her gait was as familiar to Shanedan as his own heartbeat was and she was almost certain that he had memorized the stride pattern of half of Skyhold’s population by now too. A habit of his that he had tried to get her to do as well but she struggled with. Shane had tried to get her into several of his many potentially life-saving habits but she just wasn’t brilliant like he was.
Striding across the hall over to them, she smirked to her brother, “Making friends?” she inquired as she held out the bag of hot grain and his boots, not moving to sit down until he reluctantly took them from her. It was rare for her to indulge in breakfast considering her normal sleeping pattern but it looked like she would be taking part in it more often since she and Shanedan had been dumped in with the ‘Dawn Squad’.
Shane didn’t need to be there with her, he didn’t cause problems like she did, but she knew why he joined.
He never left her side.
He would always watch her back, and she would always watch his.
She wanted to make sure just as much as he did that they didn’t repeat history.
All they had left was each other.
“Familiarizing myself with our team,” he said softly as he slipped his feet into the boots and then situated the canvas sack under his coat to let the heat soak into his shoulder, his eyes on the table as she sat down to be opposite of him.
The guy, Ralof, Ralon, something like that, looked on in surprise at the gifts that she had bestowed upon her brother. “No boots, huh? Shit, I thought that was just a strange elf thing,” he said, grinning playfully before the elf jabbed him hard in the ribs with her slim elbow, “Ouch! Hey, I’m going to need my own bag of hot grain if you keep that up!”
“There she is—the troublemaker,” the elvish girl greeted, wiggling her fingers and winking, “Welcome to the team! Anyone who’s able to piss off Commander Curly is a decent sort in my book,” she said, grinning.
Assan gave a small laugh, “As far as I’m concerned, it is a weird elf thing. He picked it up from Zese I’m sure, he was the only elf in our merc band,” she said, her lips curling into an almost cruel smile and she held out her fist to the elf, Lyrene she thought her name was, “You I already like,” she stated with a smug grin, Shanedan observing the interaction quietly with a soft curve of his lips, only briefly drawing attention to himself when he flagged down the serving woman.
Lyren snorted, bumping fists with Assan. “What can I say? We elves are an influencial lot. Y’know, once you look past the crippling oppression.”
There was a flicker of discomfort in Shanedan’s eyes that made Assan glance at her brother before Lyrene humorously raised her foot, showing off the sturdy boot it was clad in, Ralon wrinkling his nose when she grazed his cheek with it. “Then again, no one wants their toes dropping off out here! That’d be a pain in the ass.”
Ralon raised his brows, shoving his comrade’s boot back under the table and glanced between the two siblings. “So a mercenary band, huh? Shit. That would’ve been a hell of a thing. Ran into a few of those, traveling south of Ferelden. Rough folks,” he said, trailing his eyes over Assan and she raised her brows with a playful smirk under the inspection. “Can’t say I’m completely surprised though. You look like you could scare folks stiff on a good day.”
“Yeah, and scare them dead on a bad one,” Lyrene shot in with a laugh.
“Yeah well, I wasn’t always so awesomely scary, especially not then,” Assan shrugged, her eyes shifting to Shanedan as her lips pressed thin for a moment. “And Shane, well…”
Her brother filled in for himself, “I’m a runt.”
As though that explained everything.
Ralon nudged him a little, “Hey, well y’know what? Surrounding yourself with a bunch of short-asses like us is a pretty clever move then. Kinda hard to think of someone as a runt when you’ve gotta crane your neck to look at them anyway.”
The statement made Assan let out a bark of laughter and she saw the look in her brother’s eyes, almost matching his smile.
Amusement.
“I’m not much taller than you guys. The squad leader is nearly my height,” he pointed out in all modesty.
“Well, not much taller is still taller!” Ralon grinned.
“Shaaaaaaane,” Assan prodded her humble little brother, “you’re still like four inches taller than him. And a full head taller than Dick Black over there,” she said, jerking her thumb in the direction of Cyrus.
“Assan…”
The grouch in question had been shoveling his breakfast into his mouth when Assan made the comment and shot her a sharp glare. “Huh. I keep forgetting the cow can speak. They don’t serve hay here, you know,” he said snidely, eyes flicking over to Shanedan. “So how about you and the runt fuck off and bother people who give a shit about you. If there are any.”
“This cow can throw you across the hall, pint-size. Let’s not forget that the runt handed your ass to you on a silver plate,” Assan shot back without missing a beat, Shanedan wincing a bit on the other side of the table.
Cyrus sneered, lip curling in disdain. “Fucking try it,” he snapped, “Come on then, I’m waiting. And before? The runt got lucky. I just assumed being slow ran in the family.”
The blond boy, Darren, piped up despite looking like he wanted to crawl under the table and hide. “Stop it. Please. We’re meant to be a team aren’t we? Can’t we just try…”
“This is between me and Horns over there,” Cyrus said, gesturing at Assan with his spoon with his eyes narrowed at Darren, “So shut up and stay out of it.”
“He could have disarmed you five times over the course of that spar, assfuck, that’s hardly luck!”
“Twice,” Assan heard her brother murmur, almost anxiously stirring his food rather than eating it.
Cyrus barked a dry laugh, “Oh look, it’s trying to count now,” and he smirked at Shane’s correction, “Huh, better luck next time. Maybe start simple. Like with zero. Because that’s precisely how many fucks I give about you and your half-pint brother.”
Lyrene piped up on the other side of the table, “Okaaay, how about this? We eat our breakfast and try not to kill each other?” she suggested, motioning about the room, “All the other squads seem to be able to manage it.”
“If you’re waiting for me to give a shit about your opinion, you better pack a lunch, sweetheart, cuz it’s going to be a while.”
“Last I checked, you were the one who came over here looking to start shit with me. You’re real big on talking about it. I’m just waiting for you to put your money where your mouth is,” Cyrus smirked, his gaze darkening. “But seems you’d rather just sit there and call me sweetheart. Cute. But I have a policy: no animals.”
“Cyrus, give it a rest,” Ralon said sharply as conversations around them started to go quiet. “Listen: if the two of you get into a fight now, Hanin’s going to be more than just pissed. So unless you both want to be running laps and cleaning latrines for the next two weeks, you need to calm down. Let it go.”
And then…
Well.
Shane.
“I’m sure the two of them could fuck it out during their mutual punishment,” he said casually to Ralon and Lyrene who both choked on their porridge, coughing and sputtering with laughter, ignoring the copper blush and look of disgust on Assan’s face and both Cyrus and Darren went red—one in embarrassment and one in anger.
“Shanedan, that’s disgusting!”
Those stormcloud grey eyes turned to her, quirking his brows mildly, “Well, since you two seem to enjoy professing your undying affections to each other in the middle of breakfast…”
“You seem real interested in what your sister’s fucking, runt,” Cyrus snapped, fists clenched, “Keep that shit up and people are going to think the two of you are even more screwed up than you already are.” And with that, he shoved his bowl away and stood, glowering around the near silent hall. “What the fuck are you lot gawking at?”
And proceeded to storm out, a few suggestive whoops and whistles trailing from the tables as he passed.
And the door to the mess hall thudded shut behind Cyrus.
“You are disgusting,” Assan told her brother, nose wrinkled in disgust.
“Drastic times call for drastic measures,” he said simply, shrugging and without another word he returned to eating his porridge.
“Well… That was something.”
Assan glanced to Ralon who was smirking at Shanedan as he took a swig of water from his tankard. “Nice one. Takes skill to get Cyrus to stalk off like that.”
At the other end of the table, the boy, Darren, shifted uncomfortably. “Sorry. About him, I mean. You’re not…”
His eyes flicked to her and then back down to his food, “Any of those things he said you were.”
Ralon chuckled but when he spoke, his tone was gentle. “Pretty sure she knows that, kid. Cyrus talks more shit than all of us combined.”
Assan pursed her lips with a sigh and a shrug. “Don’t worry about it,” she told the boy, “that’s hardly the first time either of us have heard crap like that and it sure as hell won’t be the last. We get it from all kinds being vashoth,” Assan explained, trailing to Shanedan with a bit of curiosity on her face, a thought scampering across her brain and then scurrying away.
“That’s probably true… but still, you shouldn’t have to hear it from your own squad, that’s all,” Darren said quietly.
Assan’s expression softened at Darren’s words, her own brother’s smile gentle and some fondness in his eyes from his kind words, and she reached out to ruffle his hair, “You’re adorable, I hope you know that.”
The gesture made the boy’s cheeks tinge a little and smile, pleased that the tension had all but evaporated now that Cyrus had left.
“But!”
Everyone jumped a little when she slapped the table, making Shanedan wince slightly, “Now we don’t have to worry about sassy-pants butting into conversation.”
“He probably wouldn’t have to begin with if you hadn’t mentioned him in the first place, Assan,” Shanedan sighed, although everyone else relaxed to grins and chuckles.
Lyrene gave a half-shrug, “True enough,” she agreed, “but frankly, Cyrus being an ass is about as sure as the sunrise. Would’ve happened at some point.”
“So,” Ralon chimed in, smiling and leaning forward as he fixed Assan with a curious look, “How’d you find dawn training? Added a few nice dents into Connors’ shield.”
She smirked as she gazed back to the man. “Honestly, for a first day, it was pretty mild. My first day training with Ore was a lot harder.”
“You were also six back then, Assan,” Shanedan quietly pointed out.
“Yeah yeah, shut up.”
“Ore… One of the mercenaries you mentioned before?” Lyrene inquired, cocking her head.
“You were only six?” Ralon added, brows raised in surprise. “That’s rough. How long were you both with the mercs?”
“She was our mama,” Assan said at the same time as Shane said, “Assan’s mother.” And she looked at her brother at the same time he realized his mistake and his entire body tensed up subtly. She took a deep breath through her nose and she shrugged, “I was six when Ore decided to start my training. Shanedan was seven when she started his. Probably would have started sooner if she hadn’t been pregnant with me,” Assan admitted, “We were with Ore, Zese, Maltese, Ghorbash, and Katria until I think I was nine. After that… well, Shanedan pretty much raised me, jumping from whatever merc group that would take a nine year old and a sixteen year old to the next.”
Ralon’s gaze flicked between the two vashoth. “Right. Gotcha.” And he gave Shanedan a half-smile. “Older brother, huh? That’s a tough gig.” And he playfully winked at Assan, Assan smirking in amusement.
“So what happened?” Lyrene asked suddenly, ignoring Ralon’s warning glance, “I mean, you started hopping around at nine, yeah? Something must have caused that.”
Shanedan’s expression was unreadable.
His tone flat as he spoke.
“They went on a job and didn’t come back,” he said quietly as he stood, sparring them the courtesy of a smile like a wince. “I’m going to go meditate. I’ll see you all later,” he excused himself softly before he turned to leave, his half-full bowl of food remaining at his spot.
“See you around then…” Ralon lamely said, turning and glaring at Lyrene.
She looked lost.
“Was it something I said?”
Assan reached over to pat her hand reassuringly, “It’s nothing personal,” she explained. “Shane’s an avoidant: won’t talk about things that bother him even if it might kill him.” And she sighed. “We don’t know what happened to band. Shane was left in charge of me and when they didn’t come back by the deadline, we assumed the worst. Shane went from being just my brother to being a parent to me too. If they are alive, we haven’t seen hide or hair of them.”
Ralon sighed. “That must’ve been difficult for both of you. I’m sorry.”
She shrugged.
“What happened was kinda to be expected. It’s part of the risks that come with the career, right on up there with potentially being stabbed in the back by people you think you should be able to trust.”
His mouth twitched up at the corner. “Our squad, we’re not much to look at but we might be better than mercenaries. Maybe.”
Assan smiled with a short laugh. “There aren’t as many risks in an army, which is why Shanedan suggested we come here in the first place. Stability isn’t something you find in many merc bands, especially not the ones we were in.”
“Poor guy,” Lyrene murmured. “At least he’s got you.”
“And my word that we won’t try to stab anyone in the back,” Ralon added. “Even Cyrus, believe it or not.”
He paused though, remembering something. “What was that grain for by the way?” he asked, “Has your brother got a bad shoulder?”
“Kinda. Broken collarbone,” she corrected, tapping the far edge of her own clavicle.
He winced in sympathy, “Ouch. Nasty injury, that. Tends to play up well after the fact. Was it recent?”
Assan finished her bowl of porridge and dragged Shanedan’s half-finished one to eat it too. “Some time last year. Bastard we were working with got pissed and stabbed Shane. If he was a normal height for a Qunari…” she said and frowned.
If her brother wasn’t the runt that he was, he probably would have died.
“There are healers here,” Lyrene suggested. “Maybe they could take a look at it?”
Assan scoffed. “The only way he’d go to the healers is if I personally dragged him. The chance of magic being used on him puts him on edge in the worst way, even if he won’t show it or say it.”
“Not a fan of magic, huh?” Ralof noted, picking at his bowl. “Fair enough, can’t say I blame him. But if it’s causing trouble…” and he shrugged, “Well, it’s an option.”
Lyrene sighed, leaning an arm on Ralon’s shoulders to regard Assan, “So what happened exactly? For you to end up here with us, I mean,” she asked, glancing around the table. “We aren’t exactly the ‘golden team’ after all. Supposedly. I beg to differ.”
“Yeah,” Ralon added. “Shanedan mentioned something about folks getting hurt but didn’t exactly go into detail about it. Whatever it was must’ve pissed off Cullen.”
Cringing a bit, Assan ate a mouthful of porridge to maintain her silence for a little bit, picking her words like she felt Shane personally would. “Well, I didn’t fall back when I was told to. Shanedan came and got me against orders and a few guys that like him covered him. They got hurt,” she explained.
Shane, her brother with a flawless record of obedience, had disobeyed orders in order to protect her.
“Least to say,” she added with some mildness in her tone, “it wasn’t the first time I didn’t follow orders given by that idiot team leader we were under.”
Lyrene snorted, “Yeah. Shit orders are a pain. Sometimes I wonder how they decide who gets to run things around here.”
Ralon rolled his eyes, “Oh yeah, you’d be a much better option, Ly. For sure,” he teased, grinning as he earned an elbow in the ribs. Then he turned his eyes to Assan. “Well here’s to hoping you and Hanin get along better than the last team leader, Assan. This is… well, it’s the end of the line as far as the army goes,” he noted, spreading his hands.
The elf nodded in agreement, expression darkening a little. “Yep. We screwed up here and… well, we’re probably screwed.”
Assan wrinkled her nose with a snort. “We’ll see.”
After a moment, she sighed, fiddling with her spoon, twirling it in the air absently. This team really was the bottom of the barrel and Shanedan didn’t deserve it.
“Shanedan’s the one I’m worried about. He’s got no real reason to get kicked if I do and the only reason he’s with this squad is so he can look out for me.” Like he always was. Like he had been since the day she had been born. “If I’m being honest, this place feels like it’s been good for him so far but…” and she shrugged, “I’m not sure about me. I don’t want him to leave somewhere he might actually like just to look after his kid sister. Again.”
Ralon leaned back, sighing deeply. “Time will tell, I reckon. Either way, we like the two of you. But it gets easier,” he stated, “once you feel like you can trust the people watching your back.”
Lyrene placed a hand over her heart, “Aw, you trust me?”
“Ha! Not a chance. I trust Connors and the kid, you’re a downright liability.”
“Psh. Ass.”
Assan laughed at the banter.
Relaxing some, Lyrene smirked a bit, “I think you’ll be fine, so long as you and Cyrus don’t tear each other’s throats out, that is.”
Assan snorted at the mention of that black-haired, blue-eyed bugger.
“What’s his deal anyway? Cuz that’s one serious stick up his ass.”
They all exchanged glances at Assan’s last comment, and eventually, the blond elf shrugged helplessly. “No idea what his problem is, to be honest. Maybe he was just born a dick.”
“I don’t reckon he was hugged enough, growing up.”
Assan’s golden gaze was in sync with everyone else as they turned to the meek speaker, Darren himself.
“My ma always said a hug smooths away sharp edges and, well… sharp edges are all Cyrus has.”
His eyes lifted from his bowl and he flushed suddenly at the realization that they were looking at him, looking back down.
“Just sayin’…”
Cute, shy, and sweet. What are the odds?
That was just plain adorable.
“Maybe,” Assan subtly agreed, thinking about other assholes she had met in her life. Other mercs, mostly. Ghorbash had been one of them. And she remembered the one time she had spoken to Zese about how hard he was on Shanedan. And she shared the elf’s words of wisdom, “Some people are assholes because they don’t know any other way. Like a self-defense mechanism. Lizards that drop their tails. Frogs with poisonous skin. Butterflies that taste bad.”
She realized she had finished her brother’s porridge when she scraped the bottom of the bowl.
“Either way, it’s like trying to read a closed book. Pointless,” Ralon said with a snort.
And then he rose a brow at her. That amused grin on his face that she was starting to recognize as second nature to him.
Grins like that meant playfulness, and she liked people who were playful.
“And what about you, huh? You like trouble or does trouble just have a habit of finding you?”
Oh that was the question.
And the Qunari grinned shamelessly.
“Yes.”
She had a feeling that she would be right at home among these three teammates of hers. Playful and charming Ralon, teasing and joking Lyrene, sweet and shy Darren.
Yeah.
This felt like a good team already.
Maybe it would be good enough to even draw Shanedan out of his brittle shell.
For a while after the mountain, the Dawn Squad are deeply scared by sudden loud noises. As time goes on they slowly lose that fear, but for a while after what happened, if you made any sudden loud noise, they would freeze up and hardly move
#project hail mary
#lana del rey
#photography
#azzi fudd
#heated rivalry
