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I was lucky enough to snag this amazing headshot of Marassal from @selenelavellan!! Look at him in all his naughty abom glory.
Head on over to her for commissions! She’s wonderful to work with!!! I am so happy with the art!
Or how about Selene's thoughts to the whole finding out Marassal essentially baby-napped Dirthamen and that whole scene? I've been pretty curious about that.
I-I swear I thought I had written and posted Selenes response to this already, and was surprised to find that I definitely did not. Whoops. That’s on me.
Reincarnation AU
Marassal belongs to @scurvgirl
Dirthamen belongs to @feynites
It’s all a bit of a blur, really, whenMarassal enters her apartment.
There are donuts and Des latching ontoDesire for nourishment while the man she had met so long ago tellsher that he raised Dirthamen.
He’s not dead.
He’s not dead.
He was neverdead.
Oh, she could stranglehim.
He knew, she’s been alone and he’s beenhiding him away, he stole him, he stole their Dirthamen away forhimself-
“Selene?” Dirthamen calls,squeezing her shoulder just enough to drag her out of her thoughts.
“Sorry,” she murmurs while shenuzzles against him, arms encircling his waist to pull him closer.Selfish, on her part. But just for a few minutes, just for now, shewants to be selfish. It has been so long since she allowed it. Solong since she allowed herself near someone else.
“It is alright. Would you likeanother donut?”
“No thank you,” she mumbles againsthim.
He settles back again after that, andshe notes that Marassal is spending an unusual amount of time in herbathroom. Probably scoping her medicine cabinet and tutting at allthe extra prescriptions she’s not supposed to have. Not that most ofthem do much, but some of the stronger ones in large doseshelp her sleep. Or not sleep, depending on the situation.
It’s no business of his, anyways.
Still, Marassal eventually returns tothe living room, a smug smile on his face as he watches her cuddlefurther into Dirthamen.
Does he know?
Not entirely,Marassal explains.
Selenefrowns, tensing at the potential deception, but Dirthamens arm shiftsinto a more comfortable position, fingers brushing lightly againsther arm and she settles almost immediately, still starved forcontact.
Aproblem, really.
One you brought on yourself,Des gripes.
Technically, it’s Marassals faultfor faking Dirthamens death.
And it is your fault forhandling the changing of other peoples lives so poorly.
You’re being unusually upset aboutthis.
You nearly killed us, Selene. I didnot follow you for so long because I thought you gave up so easily.Besides that, Dirthamen is happy. Have you noticed? This isthe most well adjusted he has been since he was raised by Iphram andhis wife. And he knows how to care for us, already. No need to fretabout his discovery of our partnership, he already knows. This couldbe the start of a very promising idea.
You’re not really suggesting we askMarassal to raise him in each cycle, are you?
And why not? The largest problems wekeep encountering are raised from his terrible family. Here is achance to remove them from the equation entirely. No more Falon'din,or Andruil, or Mythal to deal with. No more opportunities forElgar'nan to abuse him, for June to berate him, or for Sylaise tosneer down at him. We could save him from his biggest threats beforethey ever have a chance to harm him.
Selene hesitates.It’s certainly an idea with some merits to it…but no.
We are not manipulating his lifethat way, Des. It is not our call.
You think Marassal will not want todo this again, anyways? He is happy, as well. If he has thechance to raise Dirthamen again in the future, we both know he’lltake it. All I’m suggesting is that we look the other way when hedoes.
Selene grimaces atthe thought. She used to spend her free time fighting against theworst of the magisters, and now she’s discussing with a demon thepossibility of repeatedly tearing someone away from their family,purposely. Because it suits them.
No, Des. Sheorders.
He just sighs, andsettles reluctantly, refocusing on Dirthamens presence while Selenedrags herself back to the surface.
“We need to havea discussion, later,” She warns Marassal as he leans against theopening to her kitchen.
“That’s a muchless threatening response than I was expecting,” he teases “I’llbe ready whenever you are.”
Dirthamen moves asthough to get up and Selenes hand reaches out to grab his shirtinstinctively.
He blinks downat her “I assumed you two needed privacy. It seemed obvious you didnot want me here for whatever it is you are planning to discuss.”
“I want youhere,” Selene strains. “Marass-Your father and I can talk later.I doubt he’s planning on going anywhere for some time.”
Marassal justsmiles and lets out a satisfied sigh when Dirthamen resettles on thefuton, and Selene readjusts so that her head is against his shoulder,and he’s in her arms again, where he should be.
She sighs incontentment, and idly wonders if it would be too much to ask him tomove in with her already.
Des reminds herthat their current home is awful and would probably make Dirthamensick if he stays here, and Selene reluctantly agrees.
She’ll find a newplace for them, then. Someplace close to his shop maybe.
Someplace new tocall home.
5 Facts Friday!
A little late in the day, but here we go!
Today I am choosing Marassal
1. In modern AU’s, after he escapes enslavement, he becomes a glassblower. Many many years later, a sixteen year old girl wanders into his shop. She is his mother reborn.
2. In AU’s, mainly ancient ones, where he has not lost his ears, they are still very sensitive and he avoids piercings. He still hates getting his hair cut.
3. He’s a magpie and has an exceptionally eclectic style. It often doesn’t go too well together but somehow it fits him.
4. He hates cabbage.
5. His favorite dessert is a strawberry milkshake.
Tagging @selenelavellan @justanartsysideblog @lillotte17 @feynites @empresstress13 @lycheemilkart @palindromekomori only if you want to, of course!
A random burst of dialogue! @feynites @selenelavellan for reasons (and let’s ignore Mythal’s association with the Moon)
*Marassal and Dirthamen driving at night, Dirthamen is roughly six*
Dirthamen: Papae, why is the moon following me?
Marassal: Because she loves you, pumpkin.
Dirthamen: She knows me?
Marassal: She knows everyone and she only follows the people she likes.
Dirthamen: Oh. She’s really pretty.
Marassal: I think so too. How about we go to the library tomorrow and get a book about the moon?
Dirthamen: I’d like that.
♥: Reacting to the other one crying about something, for Beauty and Marassal because I love them so much, best buds for life.
….I got carried away with this. Warnings for descriptions of a panic attack and a natural disaster. Note, because I’m not cruel, Darla is not dead. Also, if this doesn’t fit into any plans, feel to just view this as an AU.
Marassal sips his peppermint tea leisurely, letting it warmhim and calm him. The anxiety of preparing his district for the lady Fen’Sulahn’smother’s visit has been weighing heavily on him and this is the first time inover two months he has been able to simply sit down and take a minute forhimself. Everything must be perfect, there are rumors that Fen’Sulahn and Mythalhave not exactly been seeing eye-to-eye on some matter, and the tension hasinevitably filtered down into the lower ranks.
Hence Marassal’s need for peppermint tea.
He is only halfway through his cup when the ground begins toshake violently. Marassal stands quickly despite the shifting earth and usherspeople inside, grabbing several guards to help him create a stable barrier. Achild starts to cry, clinging to her mother’s skirts as the building aroundthem heaves violently. The ground itself moves and breaks in the street, peoplescream and run in all directions. Barriers go up, the alarm goes off, and inthe distance, he sees a building slowly descend. Dust floods the streets whilethe ground continues to convulse.
“Are we being attacked?”
“What’s going on?!”
“It’s the Nameless!”
The people cry around him, and he struggles to think pastthe heavy drum of his heart. Think, think, think!
“Earthquakes can be natural phenomena!” He says suddenly,not entirely convinced himself, “there is no need to panic! Please stay calm.”He returns his focus to his portion of the barrier and tries to not panichimself.
This can’t be real, this can’t be happening!
As suddenly it started, it ends. The buildings groan at theeffort to remain standing but no tremors come after a long moment. Marassal andthe guards cautiously let their barrier down.
“We need to start evacuations to the main palace, it’sreinforced so you should be safe there. If not, there are eluvians that cantake everyone to other cities if need be. Everyone! Listen, we are heading tothe palace, it is not safe yet to go to your homes.” He catches his breath andturns to the guards, their faces serious and concerned. Questions start to fly onlyfor him to quickly say that he too has little idea of what has happened.
Could it be an attack? Yes, it’s possible, but it’s alsovery possible it’s just a natural earthquake. Could it be an accident? Yes, itcould. There are too many explanations to justify panicking about a singularone…but that also means that there is little reason to not panic at all.
Marassal and the guards begin the process of herding thecitizens towards Fen’Sulahn’s palace, collecting people as they go. He givesinstructions to guards, acting as their temporary captain as manager for thedistrict, and since none of them have received orders from the captain.
“Get people to the palace! Search buildings to make sure you’regetting everyone!” He orders. The guards nod and begin to go search for people,naturally dividing into task forces – mainly into rescue and escort teams. Thealarms are still going off, hounds are howling and some of the larger ones havetheir people on their backs, running toward the palace.
The little girl in Marassal’s group is crying still, even asshe clings to her mother.
Not much farther, thankfully.
When they finally reach the palace, Marassal quickly usherseveryone inside, commanding the guards to raise barriers up and to continue escortingpeople to the safest parts of the palace.
“Send word to Fen’Sulahn immediately!”
“I am here! What happened?!” His lady strides throughquickly from a wing and he bows fast before explaining.
“An earthquake of some sort, a building collapsed, I’veordered the guards to evacuate everyone to the palace and through the Eluviansto other cities if need be.” He follows her out to the great doors, stillshaking but he will keep with this, he has a responsibility. She nods and isabout to reply when another tremor rocks through the city.
“Protect Fen’Sulahn!” The guards call but Marassal isalready bringing a barrier up around them. Thankfully, the tremor is shorterand weaker than the main quake from earlier, and the palace, as Marassal had promised,does not budge.
“Good work. You! Gather my troops for search and rescue. Marassal,remain here and organize evacuation efforts, send people to other cities – but notto Arlathan! If this is Nameless, they will be searching for a way to Arlathan!To smaller cities.”
“My lady, it is not safe for you here,” one of the guardsprotests.
“I have been on battlefields much deadlier than this, worry forthe People, not me.” And with that word, she shifts into her great wolf formand runs down to the city in her own rescue efforts.
Marassal takes a breath and rushes into the palace, quickly prioritizingthose who need to be evacuated first. The little girl and her mother, he needsto get them to safety. He needs to get them allto safety. He sends each group through with two guards, making sure tochoose Fen’Sulahn’s lesser known cities, places where the Nameless are lesslikely to target.
More people start to pour in and he does his best to divvy everyoneup accordingly. The palace has four main eluvians, that means he can have eachone open to a different city for evacuation. He gets the guards to set up arotation and after the first few groups, he stops sending guards in, hopefullyassuming every is safe.
Another tremor shakes the city, and even in the palace theycan hear the groaning of the earth, the sounds of the city shaking echoes throughthe stoned hallways like a beast roaring announcing its arrival.
There are wards, weare safe, Marassal must remind himself, even as everyone gasps, a fewscream, many sob in terror. Stay calm,stay calm, you’re in charge.
“Stop! Healers coming through!” One of the guards calls fromone of the eluvians.
“Good! Everyone, hunker down for a moment!” Marassal shoutsfrom his position overlooking the mass of people waiting to be evacuated.
Healers rush through the nearest eluvian and Marassal pointsto where the wounded are being directed, half of the group heads in thatdirection while the rest of them head out into the city. Another eluvian linepauses while a contingent of troops barrel through.
Marassal tries not to think about how he hasn’t seen many ofhis friends. Some make sense, they’re most likely aiding in the recovery efforts,but others…
Where is Beauty?
But then the lines resume, and he is distracted by usheringpeople into the correct lanes. It’s mercifully distracting, even if it doesincrease his sense of impending danger and doom. He throws himself into the work,anxiety and worry increasing with time, until he looks around to see…no one.
“That’s everyone!” A guard reports after hours and hours ofwork.
“What?” He breathes as the guard takes Marassal’s arm toguide him through an eluvian.
“Those who could be evacuated, have been. Fen’Sulahn isstill conducting her investigation, it’s time to go, Marassal.”
“No, that can’t be everyone! Where…where…” but he doesn’tget a chance to finish his question as he is practically shoved through themirror. He reaches the other side, safely in one of Fen’Sulahn’s smallerpalaces in a city that is mostly military base.
His chest heaves and aches, his arms beginning to tremble.No, no, this is wrong. Where is Beauty?
After a moment, the guard taps his shoulder and he realizeseveryone is looking to him. Why? What can he do? This…he wasn’t trained for this! Crisis management is not hisforte, they’re all lucky he’s gotten them this far.
Marassal swallows and tries to calm his hands and heartbefore speaking, “Our lady is still investigating. I have no word of the cause.Everyone who could be evacuated, has been. We are to stay here. I…will – is therea city manager here?” He asks. His people need food, bedding, temporary livingnecessities.
“Here, sir, Hithril, here to help.” A robust elf approacheshim, and shakes his hand but he is so wound up he has trouble not jerking hishand back in overwhelming sensation. He nods, steeling himself to continue,even as his body tries to stop.
“Marassal. The people will need healing, food, drink, placesto rest –
“It’s already being taken care of; the evacuees are beingdirected to the great rooms of the palace and food is being brought up from themarketplace. The city’s healers are already here, working on those most inneed.” Hithril says, leading Marassal through the palace where people are beingdirected. The great hall is where most have been set up, while individual bedroomshave been turned into centers for the healers. The kitchens are alight withactivity to start creating enough food for the demand.
More time passes as he is thrown into more work of managingeveryone, keeping their fears and concerns low even as his own willpower isstretched far beyond his limit. Communications start to arrive with missivesfrom troops, reports of the dead, but so far, no foul-play has been detected,though the investigation is ongoing.
Beauty is not on the list of dead. A small comfort.
It is late when all the fires have been put out. No one inhis group has died, and word from the other cities reports the same. They’realive. They’re all alive. Good, that’s good, he can…stop. It is all he can doto find a small, quiet, secluded room before he collapses to the floor, greatsobs wracking his body. Breathing becomes staggered as all the fear and paniche’s been shoving to the side bludgeons him with built up force.
Marassal curls in on himself, terrified and paralyzed allthe same.
Beauty is missing. Darla, his beloved hound, was at thegroomers, getting shampooed and pampered. They’re missing and there is nothing more he can do.
The filth and the grime feel like they weigh him down,pressing him closing to the floor as he tries to reconcile all the fear in him.But it is time, not…not anything else that eventually has him moving to a moresitting position, leaning against the wall, crying instead of sobbing. Theemotions around him are thick and turbulent, polluting the entirety of theroom. It is better though, better than the immense crushing sensation he hadfelt.
It is, of course, at this precise moment, when he is stillcrying and a mess that the doorcreeks open.
“Marassal?”
That voice, he knows that voice!
“Beauty?” He asks in disbelief, voice cracking with his cries.The door opens more and yes it’sBeauty! With little Gra’Mi at his feet! None of them looking worse for wear,miraculously.
“Marassal,” Beauty says, collapsing next to next Marassal,pulling him close. Relief floods through Marassal as he presses as closely toBeauty as he can, burying his face into Beauty’s hair. He cries and feels, unableto disguise or hold anything back. Beauty just holds Marassal tight, his ownfears and relief mingling with Marassal’s.
“I was with Fen’Sulahn today, she had a meeting with hermother. I had to stay to placate while Fen’Sulahn returned to Adahlan. I couldbarely keep calm when I heard it was yourdistrict.”
Beauty is untouched then, safe all the way in Arlathan allday while Marassal fretted and stressed to get everyone safe.
“I thought…I thought,” he stammers. Beauty smooths Marassal’shair back, softly cooing at him.
“I know, I thought so too.”
Marassal doesn’t know how long they stay like that, holding ontoeach other simply to reassure that the other is safe and unharmed. Marassal isdusty and sweaty and none to pleasant to smell, but he is undamaged. Beautystill smells like his favorite perfume, his clothes are still soft, even ifthey are slightly rumpled form the day.
His breathing begins to regulate itself, his heartrate slows,and eventually, Marassal finds the ability to stand and move to the bed. Beautyfollows him and they end up wrapped together on the bed as well, unable to letgo of the other’s comfort just yet.
“Where’s Darla?” Beauty asks softly. Well, perhaps Marassalis not done crying for the evening.
Dirthamen and the Which-What-Who
I managed some Halloween inspired Dad Marassal! And if anyone is confused, this is referencing the Dr. Seuss book “I Wish That I Had Duck Feet” which I feel like little Dirthamen would enjoy.
This Dirthamen belongs to @feynites
The second costume Dirthamen chooses for All Souls Day is…not a typical one.
“I wanna be a Which-What-Who!” The five-year-old declares confidently at dinner two weeks before the day.
Marassal blinks, “A what?”
“No! A Which-What-Who! From da book, ‘I Wish That I Had Duck Feet’.”
Oh! Oh! They’ve been on a bit of a Dr. Seuss kick lately after reading a few at school. Marassal is happy to read the book, it seems to be a very positive reflection of potential shifters (for the most part) and he knows that Dirthamen’s shifting day is coming. When that day arrives, he has no idea, it varies even with the same person cycle to cycle.
“And what does a Which-What-Who have?”
“Duck feet!”
“Oooh, so you can…splash around?”
“Yeah, and-and big antlers.”
“Big antlers! So you can wear lots of hats?”
“Uhhuh, and uh, um, the, whoosh thingy,” he says, patting his head and making wet noises with his mouth.
“A water spout like a whale! That must be handy in the summer heat!” Marassal says.
“It also has, um, it also has a long nose.”
“A nose or a trunk?”
“A trunk! Like el’phant!” Dirthamen says excitedly.
“Oooh a trunk!” Marassal holds his arm out in front of his face, pretending it’s a trunk and makes a trumpeting noise with his voice. Dirthamen laughs and wriggles in his seat.
“More! Long tail too!”
“It has a long tail? Oh that must be so much fun!”
So it is decided over dinner that Dirthamen will need duck feet, antlers, a water spout, a trunk, and a long tail. Marassal sets to gathering the materials and creating a suitable costume for not only Dirthamen, but for himself as well. He is a firm supporter of parents dressing up with their children, partially to help cement the idea that it’s normal (kids need that from he can understand) and it’s just fun.
Since Dirthamen is set to be a Which-What-Who, Marassal goes with the Dr. Seuss theme and creates a large and pouched onesie for himself. He’s going as a Sneetch, complete with a detachable star on the belly.
When the big day finally comes, Dirthamen is jumping up and down, down then up, ready to hop into his costume. Marassal dresses him well, tying the headpiece gently to his head so that the little spout is positioned just so between the horns. There is a place for the connecting string that secures the trunk. Dirthamen is quick to shove his feet into the boots that fan out like duck feet. Marassal then attaches the tail to his pants and shows Dirthamen to the mirror.
“Yes!” He says triumphantly, but then he gets a look on his face, something that Marassal has come to know as ‘what if there was more?’ He raises his hands up and looks at his arms then turns to Marassal.
“Ten’acles?” He asks. Marassal blinks then grins.
“Ten…tickles?” Then he pounces, tickling his son until he shouts for him to stop.
“No! Ten’acles! Like an octopus.” Ah yes, an octopus. He’s been really into those little documentary shows on Animal Planet as of late. There was a special on octopuses the other day and he has been fascinated by them since.
“It’s a little late to put tentacles on it, sweetheart. Maybe next year?” He offers. Dirthamen would make a cute little octopus, he could choose the species and everything. But his son’s face falls as he turns back to the mirror, staring at the reflection of his hands.
“I’m going to go put on my costume now, I’ll be right back!” Marassal tells him then scurries off to put on his sneetch onesie. It’s quick, no fuss, but by the time Marassal gets back to Dirthamen, he feels a magical charge in the air, not unlike static electricity.
“Dirthamen…?” He asks, stepping into his son’s room…to see Dirthamen with his raised arms…or rather tentacles.
“I did it!” Dirthamen declares triumphantly. Marassal’s eyes widen. Alright, the day has come!
“You did! Great job! Look at you! You added tentacles all your own!” He says, full of pride. Shiftng is difficult, shifting parts and at this age? It’s nearly unheard of. But here he is, little Dirthamen with tentacles…for arms.
He turns around, tentacles still raised in the air and Marassal scoops him up. The tentacles wrap around Marassal’s shoulders and neck, holding on.
“Can I go with them?” Dirthamen asks and Marassal contemplates it for a second. Dirthamen is most likely not going to be able to hold the form for a long time. As magical as he is, he’s still very very young, and shifting requires a lot of energy.
“Do you know what you’re doing?” Marassal asks. Dirthamen pauses then nods dramatically.
“Uhhuh, I shifted, like you.”
“That’s right! And shifting is awesome! But it can be really tiring too, it’s best to do a little in short bursts, so you don’t tire yourself out and miss out on any other super fun and awesome things.”
Dirthamen frowns as he ponders this new information. He looks over at his tentacles then sighs.
“How do pu’ back?” He asks.
“Just…remember your arms? And your hands? How you catch the beach ball when we go to the beach? Or how you move your hands when building blocks and oh! There they are! There are your hands! Yes! Great job, Dirthamen!” Marassal leans forward and kisses Dirthamen’s forehead.
“Now! We have a block party to get to, my little Which-What-Who!” Marassal says then sets Dirthamen back on his feet.
“Okay,” Dirthamen says, heading off to grab the rest of his things. Marassal smiles as he watches his son grab his little pumpkin pale, happy and surprised and proud all at the same time. He really never knew that he would love this as much as he does, but he loves Dirthamen and he loves watching him grow up, safe and happy and wonderfully gifted.
And who knows! Maybe one year soon he’ll be able to make a costume entirely shifted – wouldn’t that just be spectacular! There are other things to consider, of course, such as the regional distaste for exceptionally visible magic, but…well, Marassal can hope. And whatever Dirthamen decides to do, Marassal will support it, and protect him.
Dirthamen waddles out from the room, and smiles a gap-toothed smile, “I’m ready, Papae.”
“Wonderful, so am I. Let’s go!”
@lycheemilkart wanted more baby Dirthamen shenanigans.
@feynites
It is exceptionally difficult for Marassal to not shower Dirthamen with gifts any day of the week, let alone his birthday. But his son is sensitive and prone to getting overwhelmed, even by indisputably good things. Marassal has learned that a staggered approach is best to make sure Dirthamen can enjoy everything Marassal wants to give but doesn’t wind up feeling overwhelmed and needing to be alone for a while.
Dirthamen’s birthday is celebrated over the course of a week. This year, it falls on a Thursday, which both him and Dirthamen take off to go to the children’s museum. Dirthamen ends up spending most of his time in the new space exhibit. The weekdays leading up to it are full of Dirthamen’s favorite foods, shows, games, and a new toy each day. They are exceptionally good days, but not great hoorahs. On Friday, Marassal brings cupcakes to his school and there is a party there that is lowkey enough for Dirthamen to enjoy.
On Saturday, they spend the day at the pool with new pool toys. Dirthamen is all too happy to show off his diving skills to go get the little toys until his ears start to bother him. After that, they chill on the lazy river and Dirthamen tells him about the dreams he’s had. They’re mostly just odd gibberish but in the odd gibberish he can recognize the telltale signs of magic slowly beginning to make itself known.
On Sunday, they go to Ikea. If there is one thing that Marassal is shocked about, it’s Dirthamen’s amusement at having so many different areas so close together.
“Uh oh! We’re lost!” He exclaims in their third bedroom. Marassal directs him to the signs on the floor.
“Oooh,” he says then scurries along into a kitchen.
“I like that!” He points at a swirling black and white counter top with what appears to have bits of glass in it to make it shine. Marassal picks him up so he can see it better and touch it. He runs his hands over it and makes giggly happy noises.
“Maybe we should redo the kitchen with this? Or your bathroom?” Marassal suggests and Dirthamen nods.
“It’s pretty!”
Marassal has been wanting to redo his son’s bathroom. Tiled countertops can only ever so clean, but he had worried when Dirthamen was smaller, all the dust and construction and people. But clearly he needs to hop on it now. He sets Dirthamen on the counter top and snaps a picture of the tag.
When they get home, Marassal gives Dirthamen a bath and notices how long his hair has gotten. Very, very long. He brushes it all out without much complaint from Dirthamen who is wrapped up in his toys, but when he gets out of the tub he rubs his neck.
“Is your hair heavy, sweetheart?” Marassal asks.
“Yeah,” Dirthamen says. Well. That means one thing. Haircut time. He is absolutely unwilling to let a stranger get near his son’s head and ears with scissors, so he bundles Dirthamen up and puts him in a chair and sets to combing out his long, long hair.
When he picks up he scissors, something in him shakes a bit and he drops them.
I can do this, Desire whispers and while he isn’t a fan of letting her parent for periods of time…this is an exception. He steps back and watches as Desire moves to the front. Dirthamen smiles and waves.
“Purple Papae!” He exclaims and Desire nods.
“Yes, da’len, Purple Papae. Now do you want your hair here,” Desire holds their hand at Dirthamen’s clavicle, “or shorter, around your head?”
“Long like Papae’s,” Dirthamen answers and Desire hums as she begins to snip away at his hair. By the end of it, Dirthamen is shaking his head happily, giggling at how his hair flies now. There is a pile of hair under the chair and Desire wants to pick it up but Marassal is done sitting back now, thank you.
He pushes his way forward and sweeps up the hair before picking Dirthamen back up and letting him run around for a while before bed.
Marassal’s back itches, like his wings want to spring forth. But no, Dirthamen hasn’t seen him like that yet, he could scare him, or overwhelm him, or – no, he can maintain control. He flexes his back and turns to Dirthamen with a smile. He asks if he wants dessert and the boy nods emphatically.
Marassal opens the fridge and pulls out the homemade pudding he made the other night in the middle of a bout of insomnia. He makes a small bowl for Dirthamen and hands it over with his favorite spoon.
“Remember you need to sit down and eat so you don’t get a tummy ache,” Marassal reminds him gently. Dirthamen decides that the floor suits this purpose just as well as a chair and leans against the kitchen island. Well, at least he’s sitting. Marassal couches down with him with his own bowl.
His back itches and protests touching anything.
“Do you like it?” Marassal asks, trying to distract himself from his sensitivity.
“Uh huh. It’s mushy and feels nice in my mouth.” He sticks his hand in the pudding which was foreseeable to be fair.
“How does it feel on your hand?”
“Mushy and smooth!” Dirthamen giggles. He proceeds to lick his hand which was also foreseeable. Well, children are children, they know nothing and learn everything by doing. How was he going to really know that pudding is messy if he didn’t make a mess with it? And who’s to say the mouth and the hand feel things differently? Dirthamen has always been a fan of the exploration, just in moderation.
But this means that he needs another bath. Marassal writes it off as a tired parenting error and convinces Dirthamen to have another bath – this time in Marassal’s giant fancy tub. It’s copper and the water sounds differently in it, keeping Dirthamen entertained while Marassal quickly scrubs him down again. Dirthamen fusses at it, but they thankfully avoid a meltdown.
After he’s down for the night, Marassal lets his wings out. He sets to cleaning the kitchen and bathrooms, going much faster with the aid of his wings. He can’t fly because leaving Dirthamen would be horribly irresponsible but he can clean and stretch.
He looks up at the ceiling and wonders if he can take a summer vacation with Dirthamen and have the ceilings vaulted, having some rafters to lurk in would be nice.
He is halfway through cleaning the play room when Dirthamen wanders in, rubbing his eyes.
“I had a bad dream,” he mumbles then stops when he sees Marassal bent over with two of his favorite stuffed animals in his hands while two of his blocks are clutched by the talons at the end of his wings. Dirthamen’s eyes widen and Marassal straightens, flattening his wings behind his back.
“Oh no,” he breathes.
Dirthamen blinks and Marassal wonders if he can play it off as his son still having a dream…but no, that would be lying to his son. Too much lying. He had planned to be open about his condition eventually, just…not this soon.
He stands up sheepishly and holds his hands close to his body.
“Hi, sweetheart, I know this is a bit strange, but there is nothing to be afraid of. It’s like Purple Papae, sometimes I have wings and sometimes I don’t.” He waits as Dirthamen’s brow furrows and he thinks very hard.
“Will I get wings?” He asks finally and Marassal smiles.
“You may be a shapeshifter, we don’t know yet. But if you are, you can make your own wings – any way you’d like.”
“So it’s a magic thing?”
“Yes, but it’s a secret, okay? Can you be a little secret keeper for me?” Marassal asks and Dirthamen nods, stepping over to Marassal.
“Can I touch them?” He asks and Marassal carefully lets down one wing. Little hands run up the smooth skin and poke at the firmer bones within.
“Gently,” Marassal urges. Dirthamen’s face turns serious as he learns the wings with his hands.
“Can you fly?”
“If I want to.”
“Can I see your back?” Dirthamen asks and Marassal sits, spanning his wings out and letting Dirthamen examine where his wings sprout from his back. It is an odd feeling, having the small hands poke and prod, but not to get Marassal to do anything, just to learn. Because Dirthamen is curious, and he is good, he just wants to know.
“Wing Papae,” Dirthamen whispers and Marassal smiles. Right, just like Purple Papae. One day Dirthamen will understand the full implications of the wings and Purple Papae, of the sometimes-long nails and why he sometimes dresses so funny or speaks in the wrong language. But for now, the five-year-old just needs to learn about wings.
Dirthamen comes around to Marassal’s front and leans into him for a hug.
“There’s a monster in my closet,” he says on a yawn and Marassal chuckles.
“Do you want me to scare it away or sleep in my bed?” Marassal asks and Dirthamen sighs.
“I want to sleep in my bed.”
“Scaring it away it is then!” He decides, picking Dirthamen back up and carrying him back to his room. He tucks Dirthamen in then turns to the closet.
“Be gone, foul beast!” he cries, throwing open the doors. A large bag comes tumbling down and into Marassal.
Dirthamen laughs, “Oooh, it was the bag.” A heavy bag. Marassal opens it to find it full of all of Dirthamen’s old shoes. Right, he keeps meaning to donate these. Marassal chuckles and sets the bag aside.
“Alright, problem solved! And look! No monsters, just shoes.” He returns to Dirthamen’s bed and tucks him in, humming an old song that Marassal’s mother used to sing to him.
Dirthamen doesn’t know the language, the slave tongue, but he knows the tune and it soothes him. Hands and talons smooth his hair down and lips kiss his forehead good night.
More Fen'Sulahn AU or maybe Marassal raising little Beauty and introducing him to Dirthamen?
Number 2 again!
Beauty belongs to @justanartsysideblog
Dirthamen belongs to @feynites
Selene belongs to @selenelavellan
Warnings of mentioned abuse and brainwashing but nothing graphic, and for drug use.
Follow up to Beauty is Pain, and Marassal ‘Adopting’ Beauty
Marassal drives until he sees sunlight. Beauty is curled upin the backseat, asleep with a blanket tossed over him. The morning lighttrickles into the car rousing the boy. He pokes his head out of the blanket andseems confused by his surroundings before recalling the night.
“Good morning, little one,” Marassal says softly, “are youhungry? Need to use the bathroom?”
Beauty nods slowly and Marassal exits off the highway tolook for a place to eat. Ah! An old diner, perfect. Marassal pulls in and helpsBeauty out of the car. The poor thing doesn’t have any shoes though.
“Let me check the trunk, I’m sure I have sandals orsomething,” Marassal mutters as he walks around the car to rummage around forsandals. He comes up with some of Dirthamen’s old shoes. They’re a little big,but they’ve got adjustable straps on them. When he gets back to Beauty, hecarefully unwraps his feet and hisses at the injuries.
“I will never understand why people have an urge to hurtchildren,” he murmurs before summoning a great swell of healing magic. Hishands glow brightly and Beauty flinches back.
“No! No magic! It’s bad!” He says, crawling back into thecar.
“Beauty, I’m not going to hurt you. This is healing magic, Ipromise. It’s good.” But Beauty ishaving none of it, he doesn’t want it near his body so Marassal eases off of itand returns to the trunk, pulling out the first aid kit.
He disinfects the cuts and gently applies antibacterialcrème. He wraps his feet with new gauze then sets to help the boy’s hands.Burns are not easy injuries to heal even with magic. But Beauty doesn’t wantthe magic, and while it pains him to see Beauty in pain, Marassal respectsBeauty’s wishes. There are burn pads in the kit, but they’re not for hands andfingers, but for arm or leg burns. Still, Marassal makes do and wraps Beauty’shands as well.
He fits the shoes as gently as possible onto Beauty’s feet,making sure to not tie them too tightly. He sets the first aid kit aside thenpicks Beauty up and places him on Marassal’s hip. Marassal closes the door,locks the car, and heads inside. After a moment, Beauty leans against him andsomething in Marassal clicks.
We have another son,Desire coos. She wants to wrap herself around Beauty like she did with Dirthamensometimes, showering him in love and affection but Beauty is older, warier,abused not unlike Marassal had been. He requires a gentler touch, so theyrestrain themselves.
“Why hello there! Just two?” The hostess asks and Marassalnods.
“Just two,” he confirms. They take a seat in a squeaky boothwith bright red leather seats and a tin table. The hostess hands out menus,including a coloring sheet and crayons for Beauty. He doesn’t immediately gofor the drawing, even though he eyes it.
“Do you like to draw?” Marassal asks and Beauty nods.
“My hands hurt,” Beauty whispers, his eyes darting away. Heexpects retaliation for the admission. Marassal bites his tongue, replayingMarthe’s murder in his head.
“That’s okay, they’re not fully healed. I’ll get you somemedicine to help with it, okay?” He offers and Beauty blinks at him.
“Thank you, ser.”
“Please, call me Marassal.” Marassal smiles as sweetly as hecan and turns to the menu. The hostess returns with coffee and Marassal asksfor an apple juice for Beauty.
“They have pancakes, Beauty, would you like those?” Marassaloffers but Beauty just blinks.
“…Pancakes?”
Marassal replays the murder again in his head while heexplains what a pancake is.
“It’s a little flat cake you can have for breakfast. Normallythey come in stacks, each one is sorta thin, like this thick,” he holds up hisfingers to demonstrate.
“They’re soft and sweet and you can put all sorts of thingson them. I like mine with powdered sugar and strawberries.” Marassal showsBeauty a picture of the pancakes in the menu and his face lights up.
“May I have them?”
“Of course, does anything else look good?”
As it turns out, there is very little that doesn’t look good. There are crepes,bacon, sausage, eggs, Orlesian toast, eggs – he wants to eat so many things andMarassal is very tempted to order everything. But he knows better, Beauty isgoing to fill up and will feel bad about not eating everything.
“How about we order a tall stack of the regular buttermilkpancakes with the assorted syrups, a fruit bowl, a cheese omelet, a few slicesof ham, a slice of Orlesian toast, aaand hash browns?” It’s still a lot, butMarassal can pack it away if he needs to, and it’s enough to give Beauty a bigsample of food.
“That sounds really good,” he says, “thank you.”
“I’m glad.” Marassal gestures for the server and gives hertheir order. She stares at them for a minute before nodding and heading off.He’ll make sure to tip her and the kitchen well before they leave.
The fruit arrives first. Marassal helps feed Beauty sincehis hands hurt. He nibbles on the strawberries and cantaloupe but shows a clearpreference for the blueberries. Marassal makes a note to make blueberrypancakes sometime in the future.
When their food arrives, Beauty’s eyes widen and Marassalgestures out at the table full of food.
“Everything the light touches is yours.”
Beauty looks up at him like he’s grown another head. Andwhile Marassal could theoretically do that, he knows he hasn’t. That’d be waytoo much for Beauty to handle right now.
“Lion King not big with the Chantry, okay then. What I meanis, if you want to try something go for it, or let me know and I can help you.”
Beauty doesn’t move. Ah, well, this was going to happensooner or later. Marassal takes one of the free plates and starts putting bitsand pieces of all the food they got onto it. Some pancake, some eggs, ham – hesets it before Beauty and tells him that it’s his plate.
Marassal begins to pick at his own food when out of thecorner of his eye, a little wrapped hand reaches out and grabs a piece ofpancake. Then grabs another and another.
Pancakes are a success then.
The ham, not so much.
The eggs are harder to eat with his hands so he focuses onthe things he can eat by picking things up with the very tips of his fingers.He nibbles on the Orlesian toast but ends up going back to the pancakes todevour them. Marassal conspicuously puts more pancakes on Beauty’s plate with adollop of syrup. That starts a whole messy affair of syrup and pancake eating.
Marassal eats the rest of the omelet, Orlesian toast, andhashbrowns while Beauty fills himself with pancakes and fruit. By the end,Beauty is terribly sticky and he clearly feels uncomfortable. Marassal pickshim up carefully and they head to the bathroom where Marassal carefully cleansthe boy up.
“Syrup is one of those things that tastes so good, but manoh man does it make a mess.”
“I’m sorry,” Beauty says softly. Marassal bites his tongueand smiles sweetly.
“There’s nothing to apologize for, I’m not upset,” Marassalclarifies and some tension leaves Beauty’s body. He holds his face up forMarassal to clean and then comes the delicate work of cleaning his hands. Theclothes…well, those were going to go anyways. Beauty sniffles and Marassalapologizes for the pain. He wants to use his magic, oh how he wants. But…Beautyneeds him to not, so he restrains himself. Restraint, restraint.
He picks Beauty back up and they head back inside, pay thewaitress and leave a hefty tip before heading back out to the car. Beauty sitsin the back, strapped in and safe while Marassal thinks of what he wants to donext. He’s still not completely comfortable with the distance they have withVal Rayoux, but he also wants to buy some new clothes for Beauty. At least somethat will tide them over until they make it to Rivain.
And while Marassal does have children’s clothes stocked atthe nearest house he has, not touched since Dirthamen was small, Marassal wantsBeauty to have his own clothes – not hand-me-downs. He needs to understand thathe is his own person, he has autonomy in things, and having his own clothes isan important part of that.
Marassal compromises by driving for a couple more hours, stoppingagain when he spies signs for a Target. Perfect. He takes the exit and Beautyperks up to peer out the window.
“Where are we going?” He asks in a small voice.
“Would you like some new clothes, Beauty? Clothes all yourown?” Marassal asks and he sees Beauty’s eyes widen in the mirror.
“All my own?” He asks in a small voice.
“All your own. No one can take them from you,” Marassalpromises and Beauty nods slowly.
“I would like that very much.”
“Wonderful! Because we’re going to get you clothes all yourown.”
Marassal navigates traffic then pulls into the Targetparking lot. It’s big and bright and still early, so there aren’t many peoplethere but Beauty is excited, eyes all wide trying to get a better view of thestore. Like before, Marassal takes him out of the car and holds him on his hip.But this time, he puts Beauty in the main part of the cart and pushes itinside.
By how Beauty’s eyes widen and his head swivels, one wouldthink they had just walked into the world’s greatest candy store. They pass bythe purses and bathing suits, heading towards the kids’ sections. Marassal walksslowly through the sections, paying careful attention to where Beauty’s eyeslinger. If he looks at something for a long time, Marassal picks it up. Theypull ten items before heading to the changing room to try them on.
The attendant’s brow furrows at the dresses but she doesn’tsay anything as she hands them a number and lets them back.
“Do you want me to help you, or no? It’s okay, I won’t getmad either way,” Marassal tells him. Beauty worries his lip before reaching upand taking the clothes, disappearing behind the door.
“Okay, let me know if you need help.” Marassal leans againstthe wall and takes out his phone, lingering over Dirthamen’s number. He needsto call, but there hasn’t been a good time. Him and Selene are finally stable,and this…it’s not like he wants to impede on anything Dirthamen and Selene havegoing on, but there is this fear that she’ll make him give Beauty up.
I rescued him.
Like you rescuedDirthamen?
He presses the home button and puts the phone back in hispocket. It’s not the time and he is uninterested in getting into with Seleneover the phone while Beauty is so close. Beauty doesn’t need that, doesn’t needto hear shouting and anger.
Marassal waits patiently while Beauty tries on all theclothes. When he finally comes out, he looks sheepish at having made two piles.
“Which ones do you like?” Marassal asks. Beauty points tothe pile with two of the dresses, a pair of jeans, and a sweater. Discarded aremostly ill-fitting shirts. Marassal puts the no items on the rack without fussand puts the ‘yes’ items into the cart.
“Alright, you still need some shirts and some pajamas.” Theyreturn to the kids’ sections and blow through, getting smaller shirts, anotherdress that is the same as one he likes already in another color, a skirt, twopairs of shorts, two more pairs of pants, and two sets of pajamas.
Beauty disappears back into the dressing room and Marassalpalms his phone again.
This wasn’t like Dirthamen, at all. Beauty is a completely different case, he didn’t take himfrom parents, he just…violently adopted and liberated him. He worries his lip,remembering the other children there. Hm.
He pulls out his phone and texts out the details of the Chantryto an old friend. She’s always up for this sort of thing. He can’t be aroundher so much because of the risk of corruption of who she is, but…this issomething she can do.
Those poor things! Iwill see what I can do.
He smiles at his phone and tells her about Beauty – all inthe old language of course, to prevent any prying eyes from understanding.
You’ll be good forhim, then, very understanding. If he needs me, just let me know.
Marassal smiles and sends back a list of happy emojis.
Beauty comes back out of the dressing room, again with twopiles but the ‘no’ pile is significantly smaller and Beauty is smiling.
“Great job!” Marassal coos, putting the clothes where theyneed to go. Marassal puts Beauty back in the basket and notices how he holds hishands. He must have overworked them from putting the clothes on.
Next up, shoes. It’s difficult right now to properly tryanything on, but the store thankfully sells some more traditional softer elvenstyle shoes that lace up around the ankles and have soft soles. Beauty can’treally walk in them, but the traditional shoes are gentle enough that Marassalis sure that they’ll work until Beauty’s feet heal and they can go shoeshopping properly. He adds it to the cart and moves on.
They head to the pharmacy section and he grabs burn packs,lots of children’s Tylenol, Neosporin, gauze, and large bandages. He also picksup some toiletries for Beauty, including shampoo, conditioner, a toothbrush andtoothpaste, soap, lotion for his dry skin, and a couple of fun face masksbecause he deserves to have some fun too.
He’ll take Beauty toy shopping once they get to Rivain andthey can do a great haul. In the meantime, Marassal thinks he can give Beautyhis tablet and show him the games and things he can do.
They check out and Marassal makes sure Beauty doesn’t seethe cost – children don’t need to see such things when they’re already upset.They come away with many things, all of which Marassal stashes in his trunk.
“Do you want to put one of your new outfits on?” Marassalasks and Beauty nods.
“Yes, please.”
“Which one?”
“The grey dress with the hood, please?” Beauty asks andMarassal takes it out of the bag, passing it to Beauty. He lets him change inthe backseat and contemplates calling Dirthamen again.
Not the time, later,Desire reminds him. Right. Later.
Beauty opens the door and gives Marassal his clothes, whichget unceremoniously tossed into the trunk. Marassal hands Beauty his tablet andshows him how to watch movies and play various games.
“You can watch anything in there in the KIDS folder and allthe games are good too,” Marassal says, showing him the folder. Beauty watchesand holds the tablet carefully, as if it’s the most precious thing ever.Marassal straps him in then heads back to the driver’s seat. Back to thehighway.
Aristocats startsplaying and Marassal smiles. It will do.
Desire expands in him and she slinks back to spread some ofher energy over Beauty. Just little magic to encourage his healing process.They can feel the prickling of Beauty’s own magic, strong but repressed, so, so repressed.
Marassal can work with that, though. And Rivain hasmaintained a unique magical identity that will allow for natural expression ofmagic. Mages are seen as part of the landscape there, not so different from askilled worker. The Veil there feels less like a heavy curtain and more like abride’s thin veil that can be cut and sewn to the wearer’s preference. Precisetears and holes happen sometimes, to be sewn up with something special by thecaster.
He could give Beauty headphones, or cast a noise barrier sohe can call Dirthamen. But no, that would be inappropriate.
He sighs and controls himself. It’s just he misses hiseldest son. He hasn’t visited much in the past two years, mostly just atholidays. It is clear to Marassal that Selene would rather he not linger, andhe doesn’t want to get between them and their happiness. He wants Selene to behappy almost as much as Dirthamen, and he knows that his presence can bestressful for her.
Marassal figured it was best if he did not linger where hewasn’t wanted.
But he can hear it in his head.
You’re replacingDirthamen.
To which he replies vehemently, NO.
Having a second child is not meant to replace the first, andDirthamen is grown, he’ll understand. And hopefully he’ll welcome his newlittle brother with an open heart.
He didn’t steal Beauty. He helped him, he wanted to be helped. The desire to befree, blooming in him so true that Marassal was called to help. It’s not likeMarassal doesn’t want to call, he just…he doesn’t know how it’ll be receivedand he’d rather not expose Beauty to any potential negativity while they’re inthis tentative stage.
They drive up into a small town at dusk and pass through adrive through window for chicken fingers and fries before heading to a houseMarassal keeps here. It’s a nice little renovated cottage only a couple hoursoutside of the city Dirthamen and Selene live in. He’s spent most of his timehere the past two years, close but far enough away to not suffocate Dirthamen’slife or to make Selene uncomfortable.
He pulls into the driveway and helps Beauty out of the car.
“What about the food?” Beauty asks.
“That will be for trip number two, but you come first,”Marassal says. He slides the key into the door and opens it, shuffling into theliving room –
To find Selene and Dirthamen sitting on the sofa. Dirthamenlooks up in surprise while Selene’s gaze snaps immediately to Beauty.
“Who is this?”
“Father, I –
“Marassal?”
“I can explain –
Everyone starts and stops at the same time. Dirthamen’s gazefinally lands on Beauty who shrinks in Marassal’s arms. Marassal sighs andturns to Beauty.
“How about I show you where you’ll stay tonight, okay? I’llbring in your food and you can watch TV and play on the tablet or do anythingyou want in your room while the grownups talk about boring grownup things?”Marassal asks. Beauty hesitates, moving in closer to Marassal and away fromSelene and Dirthamen, unsure of how to react to them.
“Okay,” he says in a tiny voice. Marassal levels a verylevel look at Dirthamen and Selene before retreating down the hall to a prettylittle guestroom. He sets Beauty down and gestures at the TV and hands him theremote.
“You can do anything you want with this. Even throw it. Iwill not get mad or upset or anything. This is your room now, that is your TV.I’ll go get your food.”
He dashes quickly to and back from the car with the bag offood, dropping it off for Beauty.
“I am so sorry I have to leave you right now, but I want youto know it is not your fault. Whateveryou hear is not your fault. You have donenothing wrong, I am so happy to haveyou here, alright? There is a bathroom on the other side of that door, so ifyou need to go, just head right on in, no need to ask or anything. But if youneed anything, please ask.” Marassal gently smooths Beauty’s hair down andkisses his forehead. He already loves the boy, already bonded, but he knowsbetter than to try and force Beauty to feel anything in response. If Beautyuses Marassal for all he’s worth until he’s an adult and ready to be off on hisown, it’ll hurt, sure, but that’s Beauty’s choice and Marassal will live – healways does.
Marassal closes the door gently and places a ward over it sothat Beauty won’t be able to hear anything past it, but Marassal will still beable to hear if Beauty suddenly needs him or something. He turns and heads backto the living room.
It doesn’t look like Selene or Dirthamen have moved a musclefor the last ten minutes while Marassal got Beauty settled.
Selene levels a long stare at him and says one word,“Explain.”
Marassal takes a deep breath and sits down on a plush chair,“I was in Val Rayoux. It was a spur of the moment decision to see the city,taste the chocolate, see the canals, you know. And while there, I came acrossthis Chantry, though it really shouldn’t be considered that. There was anexceptionally abusive mother, Beauty was favored by her. She demeaned him,tortured him, taught him that he was sinful simply because of his magic.”
Selene’s eyes flash purple and Marassal bares his teeth inacknowledgement.
“I could hardly standby and allow such atrocities tocontinue. So I killed the mother and rescued the boy. There were several otherchildren who are now also being rescued by an associate who is very skilled inthis area.”
Selene leans back, apparently mollified by his answer. ButDirthamen’s eyebrows draw together.
“Why didn’t you call? Val Rayoux is more than a day’s driveaway.”
“I…was unsure of how’d you react, to be honest. That andthere was never an appropriate time to call. I wanted the call to be privatebut I could hardly leave Beauty alone.”
Dirthamen nods but the tension doesn’t leave his body. Worryworms into Marassal, making him reach out to his son.
“Dirthamen –
“Are you adopting him?” He asks and Marassal nods
“Yes, if he wishes to stay with me, then I want to adopthim.” He keeps his voice and face soft, almost falling to the floor to getDirthamen to look at him but his eyes are fixed on a point on the rug away fromMarassal’s face. He remains still, this is just how he works with his stress,he knows, but it’s unsettling to know he isthe cause of the stress.
“I have a brother now.”
“If you so choose. You’re an adult, you have the ability tochoose here and I will not deny you that.” It would be difficult if Dirthamenis unwilling to be around Beauty, no doubt, lots of…not seeing Dirthamen forthe next decade. But as painful as it would be, Marassal wouldn’t begrudgeDirthamen for choosing it.
“But whatever you choose, and you don’t have to choose rightnow, know that this is not to replace you in any way. I love you, my dear boy.You have brought light to my world and I will always love you, nothing couldchange that.” He tucks a stray hair behind Dirthamen’s ear. He’s remains still,processing and tense.
“You haven’t been around much.”
“I…I wanted to give you and Selene room to be together. Butthis really isn’t about me, it’s about Beauty. He needs a loving home and I canprovide that, and he has undergone things that are similar to things I haveexperienced, I can help him.”
After a long silent moment, Dirthamen raises his head andlets out a long breath.
“I have a brother now,” he says.
Selene bites her lip.
Marassal chooses toignore her, “Yes. And for what it is worth, I think you’ll get alongeventually. He’s a very sweet and intelligent person.”
“I’m twenty years older than him,” Dirthamen says andMarassal nods.
“Yes.”
There’s another long pause and Desire reaches out towardsDes.
Dirthamen takes a deep breath and faces Marassal.
“I don’t like that you haven’t called in months. I don’tlike that you have distanced yourself for seemingly no reason. I have askedSelene to try and I am going to ask you to try too. I love both of you and I donot like this.”
Marassal blinks and Selene looks down at the floor.
“Is this why you’re randomly in my house?” Marassal asks andDirthamen nods.
“Yes, because I knew you were staying here but then youweren’t here.”
Oh.
He’s…not been very good about this whole situation, has he?
Marassal stands out his seat and crosses over to the sofa.He wraps his arms around Dirthamen in a hug and strokes his hair.
“I wanted to give you space to grow, to discover life andlove, I am sorry I miscalculated. I should have talked to you about it. Ishould have talked to Selene about it. I didn’t want to mess things up, I’msorry,” he whispers. Dirthamen holds onto him and leans against him.
“Thank you. I was not expecting to have a brother tonight.”
“If it helps, I was not expecting to give you one either,”Marassal chuckles.
“Is he going to live here?” Dirthamen asks after a minute.
“No. We’re going to Rivain, as far away from Orlais as wecan get. And the Chantry.”
Dirthamen is silent for a long moment before turning toSelene.
“Would you like to move to Rivain?” He asks. Her eyes widenand she glances at Marassal before pursing her lips.
“I think that is a discussion for another time,” she saysand Dirthamen nods.
“That’s reasonable. Would Beauty be up for meeting ustonight?”
“I am unsure. I can ask him,” Marasal says. He patsDirthamen’s head then bends down and kisses his forehead before heading back toBeauty’s room. He knocks before cracking the door open.
“Beauty? It’s just me, can I come in?” He asks softly.
“O-okay,” a sniffly voice answers. That isn’t good. Marassalopens the door wider to see Beauty sitting in the same place on the bed. Thechicken fingers have been nibbled at but the TV isn’t on, there is barely anythingmussed on the bed. And Beauty is crying.
“Oh honey, what happened? What’s wrong?” He asks, comingover to kneel at Beauty’s bedside. Beauty takes in a great sniffle and wipeshis face.
“I-I’m sor-sorry.”
“It’s okay to cry, I’m not upset, not in the least. Can youtell me what’s upsetting you?”
He nods but doesn’t say anything, just sniffles and beginsto cry more freely. Marassal takes a seat on the bed and pulls Beauty in for atight hug, holding him close to his chest. He strokes his hair and coos softlywhile he cries.
It takes several minutes, but eventually Beauty begins torelax and lean against Marassal.
“I don’t want to go back,” he says so quietly that Marassalalmost doesn’t hear him. His arms tighten for a moment in reflex. No, Beautywill not go back.
Marassal leans back looks Beauty in the eyes, “I promiseyou, I will never take you back there.” Some tension leaves Beauty’s body buthe still seems unsure. Marassal can feel the desire of wanting to askquestions, and the restraint preventing it.
“You can ask me anything,” Marassal encourages.
Beauty avoids his eyes and glances to the door, “Who arethey?”
“The man is my son, Dirthamen, and the woman is his wife, Selene.They’re very nice.”
“You have a son?” Beauty asks. There is…fear and worryinside of him at that.
He is worriedDirthamen will not like him? Desire supposes which seems logical.
“Would you like to meet them? They would very much like tomeet you. But if you’re not up to it, they’ll understand.”
Beauty thinks about it for a moment, only to pause to yawnagainst his will. He’s probably too tired from all the travel and theexcitement from the last thirty or so hours. Meeting people, family…it’s a lotto ask for.
“How about you meet them in the morning when everyone hashad a good night of rest. I’m sure Dirthamen and Selene would like that too,it’s been a very big day.”
“Are you sure?” Beauty asks, promptly yawning again.
“Very sure. Let me just change your bandages then get yourpajamas and you can go to sleep. There is plenty of time tomorrow, da’len.”Marassal kisses Beauty’s forehead and stands back up. He dashes once more pastSelene and Dirthamen out to the car, grabbing pajamas and all the medicine andbandages.
When he returns, Beauty is already curled up on the bed,fighting the urge to fall asleep. Marassal is quick with his bandages, butgentle as he rubs in the elfroot salve. He helps Beauty change into his pajamasthen tucks him into his bed. He kisses his forehead once more and wishes him agood night before switching the light off and leaving the room.
Exhaustion seeps into him. The energy it took to killMarthe, driving all through the night and the day, the drama waiting for him…
He heads back into the living room and sits back down in hisseat.
“Beauty is exhausted. You can stay the night and we’llintroduce everyone in the morning over breakfast.” He runs a hand through hishair, his body feeling distinctly far from the rest of him. He recalls thelyrium he took before and now its price is rearing its ugly head.
Dirthamen looks disappointed but Selene remains as she did –stoic. She is in hiding mode, he’d bet, unwilling to add any influentialemotions. It’s fruitless though, Desire Abominations are creatures of emotion,holding them back is like trying to damn an ocean.
“Beauty is sensitive right now, we need to accommodate himand his wishes. He’s had very little autonomy,” Marassal explains. He movescloser to Dirthamen and gently takes his hand.
“Dirthamen, I love you, nothing has changed between us.”
“I understand. I’m glad you rescued Beauty. But perhaps callin the future? I was concerned.” There are bags under Dirthamen’s eyes, andstress lines at the corners of his mouth. His hair hasn’t been brushed probablysince he got up over fifteen hours ago, and there are rumples in his clothing.He has never been particularly vain, but the apparent exhaustion and strain isout of the norm.
“It appears my eldest also needs sleep. I’ll show you to theguest room you and Selene can stay in.”
It’s a small room, just large enough for a queen bed and adresser, but thankfully no one is expecting to stay here for long. Marassalcloses the door and feels his energy drop even further. His bones ache, histeeth feel like they’re rattling in his head and Desire is riled up with no energyto put to it.
Lyrium, it’s…not good for you.
He drags his body into the kitchen and begins to riflethrough whatever it is he has. Nothing. He cleaned out before heading to ValRayoux, thinking he’d be there for longer than just a few days. But he has ice.And medications both legal and otherwise.
He rummages through a cabinet full of various herbs andpulls out his stash of elfroot and his old wooden pipe. Good, good. Help thenerves and the chills.
“Really? Drug use just after putting your newly adopted sonto bed?”
He almost drops the centuries old pipe at Selene’s voice.
“It’s elfroot,it’s medicinal,” he drawls.
“Does it even affect us?” Selene asks.
“It does the way I make it,” he replies, packing his pipe.He turns around to see her vaguely interested. He can see the shadow of a tail,swaying back and forth in mild agitation.
Really? He has to deal with this now? Ugh.
He gestures for her to follow him out to the small patio inthe backyard. He switches the light on, pulls up a chair, then lights his pipe.Smoke puffs out of his mouth and slowly his body begins to relax.
“I took lyrium to handle the woman torturing him,” he sayswithout preamble.
“That was stupid.”
“Mhm. I ripped her to shreds, took Beauty, and high-tailedit out of there. His feet are…his hands…” he struggles for the words, onlyemotion seems to pour out of him. Desire swirls inside and passes the smallmemories of Beauty’s hands and feet to Des.
The reaction is instant. Her eyes flare purple, and hethinks that maybe his rose bush is incinerated now, but it happens so quicklythat there’s nothing he can do.
“And you have not healed him?” She asks in a low tone.
“He is uncomfortable with magic and prefers the slow methodof healing. I know, I hate it too.”
He focuses on his pipe for several minutes before Selenespeaks again.
“Are you certain this is not to replace Dirthamen? I knowwhat it feels like to need to fill the nest so to speak.”
Marassal blinks then shakes his head, “No. Not at all. Andno one could ever replace Dirthamen, you of all people should know that. Ishaving a second child supposed to replace the first? No.” He scoffs at the ideaand returns to his pipe.
“The timing is suggestive, is all,” she replies. Her tone issofter and he suppose she’s just trying to make sure he isn’t recklessly doingthis. Not like the nearly disastrous sudden investment in tree houses forcougars. Selene is reasonable, she’s experienced with children, far more sothan Marassal is admittedly. He leans back and blinks slowly at her.
“Do you have any advice?”
She stops up short, “For what? Parenting?”
“Yes. I’ve only raised Dirthamen, you’ve raised manychildren over the years. They’ve all been lovely sorts, all with differentpersonalities and temperaments – really the only constant is you, so you must be doing somethingright.”
She freezes and the air flickers with tense energy, her eyesbecoming very deep and almost glassy for a moment. But then she lets out a longbreath and reaches for the pipe.
“You said this affects us?”
“Yes, it’s my own blend – ookay, going for it. I respectthat, treat yo self,” he says as she begins to drag on the pipe. Her eyesflutter and her body begins to relax.
“Shiiiit.”
“Be careful, darling,” he says affectionately. Her aura getsa little more purple and her horns curve out from her head and her tail sneaksout. He raises an eyebrow at her as she relaxes or attempts to at least.
“What is thisstuff?” She wonders.
“Elfroot, royal elfroot, and demon weed. The demon weed actsas an immunosuppressant for people like us so the elfroot can take effect.”
“That’s brilliant,” she replies, going in for another hit.
She avoids looking at him as she blows smoke out through herlips. He supposes he can wait for another time to ask her about her parenting,how she’s managed to do so well each time. None of her children are cruel,mean-spirited people. Even her abomination children – good people. That’simpressive.
They fall into a surprising companionable silence, smokingthe pipe for an hour before heading back inside. He puts the pipes away andushers a relaxed Selene to Dirthamen’s room. Marassal returns to his own roomand passes out into a blissful sleep.
**
Beauty is awake,Desire says in a not so soft and quiet voice in his head. Marassal harrumphsand momentarily nuzzles back into his pillow. It’s too early.
It’s nine.
Damn. Not even early.
Selene and Dirthamenare also awake. Desire informs him helpfully. She is entirely too cheery,but they are a parent again. Desire has always had a soft spot for children.Sometimes Marassal wonders what she was before she was Desire. Motherhood? Arethere spirits of Motherhood? She doesn’t talk about it, even after all thistime of being together.
Marassal drags his body out of bed then quickly moves tomake himself presentable. It’s a messy bun day, that’s just how it is.
His first stop is Beauty’s room. He knocks softly, askingpermission to come in.
“Okay,” a sleepy Beauty says. Marassal steps inside to seehis new son still ensconced in his blankets, rubbing at his eyes. The bandageon his left hand has come loose and Marassal sets to taking care of all thebandages. There is healing but Beauty hisses and winces at the pain.
“Selene and Dirthamen are already awake, we can all havebreakfast together. And later we’re going to get on a little plane and flyright over to Rivain – does that sound good to you?”
Beauty nods and yawns, “Are they coming with us?”
“Not today, no. Just us. But they are very excited to meetyou.” The burns look bad and he worries they’re not healing properly.
Deeeesss? He callsin his head.
Selene and Des are outgetting groceries, Desire responds instead. Hmph. Well, he’ll ask Selene tolook at it when she gets back. They may have to use magic just to make sureinfection doesn’t set in and Beauty ends up unable to use his hands. It wouldn’tbother Marassal if he couldn’t use his hands, of course, but the loss wouldalways be tied to Mother Marthe and Marassal wants to get as much distance fromthat time in Beauty’s life as possible.
He bends down and presses soft kisses to Beauty’s hands,willing them to get better.
“We may need to heal your hands with magic, little one.” Hetells him. Beauty clams up but he doesn’t flinch back before.
“Magic won’t make it worse?” He asks in a small voice.Marassal blinks. Did…did they not even say that magic can heal?
“No, magic can heal. There are mages who specialize inmaking their magic heal other people. Magic doesn’t have to hurt or be bad, themage controls what the magic does, not the other way around.”
He should have burned that chantry to the ground, shouldhave killed the Templars, the complicit mothers and sisters who would everallow such abuse and lies to damage the children.
No. That…that is wrong. People like Marthe wrap everyonearound their fingers and play them like instruments. But still…no one stoppedit. No one thought to do anything before it got horrendous. Where were theauthorities?
Who do you call when the authorities are the people allowingthis to happen?
Us? Desiresupplies and Marassal supposes that’s true. It’s how demons are summoned, howthey’re born, how they continue to exist in a disproportionate number comparedto spirits.
“Mother Marthe said –
“Lies, da’len, all she said were lies. Magic is notinherently anything – it is what the person wielding it makes it. A good personcan make good magic. A bad person can make bad magic. A sleepy person can makesleepy magic. If you are good – you can make good magic,” Marassal says softly.He holds up his hand and tiny lights dance around his fingers. Beauty retractshis hands but he doesn’t flinch away.
“What about sin?” He asks in a barely audible voice.Marassal blinks.
“What about it?”
“Mother Marthe said I was sinful and that’s why I had to bepunished.”
He plays the murder in his head again, quickly calminghimself. He smiles as sweetly as he can.
“Oh honey, no. No, no, no, no. You are a child, you have done nothing sinful, ever. Okay, we’regoing to try something okay? I want you to repeat after me. ‘I am good.’”
Beauty pauses and shifts uncomfortably, but he eventuallyspeaks in a small voice, “I am good.”
“’I deserve good things.’”
“I deserve good things.”
“’I can do good things.’”
“I can do good things.”
“’I deserve to be happy.’” Marassal concludes.
“I deserve to be happy.” Beauty repeats, his voice soft butthat’s okay. They’ll build it up. Marassal has him go through it two moretimes, deciding that they’ll do this each morning three times. Something toremind Beauty that what he learned, what he was forced to believe was wrong.
Marassal finishes fixing Beauty’s bandages, helps him intothe bathroom, then they head out to the kitchen, Beauty secure in Marassal’sarms. Marassal deposits Beauty on the chair he was sitting in last night andgoes to fetch Dirthamen. Judging by the running water, he guesses that his sonis washing dishes.
“Morning, sweetheart,” Marassal coos.
“Good morning. Selene’s out getting things to make breakfast,”Dirthamen replies. He shuts the water off and dries his hands off.
“That is excellent. Beauty is awake if you would like tomeet him,” Marassal offers. Dirthamen nods and allows Marassal to walk him backinto the living room. Beauty has curled up on the chair, appearing entirely toosmall for a seven-year-old. Dirthamen pauses for a moment and Marassal watcheshim. But after a moment, Dirthamen strides forward without his father and sitson the couch.
“Hello,” he begins, “I’m Dirthamen.”
Beauty blinks and shifts so his hands and feet are hidden, “Hello.I’m Beauty.”
Dirthamen pauses then smiles, “I’m happy to meet you.”
“Really? I mean, thank you,” Beauty says. An awkward pause stretchesbefore them before Dirthamen tries again.
“Do you like books? I own a bookstore, you could come bywhenever you like,” Dirthamen offers. Beauty bows his head.
“I know the Chant. I haven’t read a lot of books.”
“That can be good. Exploring genres can be fun. I have readmany books so I can help you find things you like. There is a nearby bookstorethat has many children’s books that you may enjoy. Some have mages as the maincharacters.”
“Are you a mage?” Beauty asks and Dirthamen nods.
“Yes. So is Selene, and Father. And I hear you are too?”
Beauty slowly nods. “I didn’t think it was good.”
“Father likes to say that if you make your magic your friendit helps.”
“He said that if I’m good, I can make my magic good.”
“I think that’s right, there are bad people who don’t havemagic, good people who do have magic. I don’t think it’s magic that makessomeone bad.”
Marassal watches his sons try to figure out themselves fromafar, smiling and feeling his heart swell with pride and trepidation. Dirthamenwill be a good big brother, and Beauty will benefit from having someone likeDirthamen. Calm, steady, unassuming.
The door rattles open and Selene strides in, several plasticgrocery bags hanging from her arms.
“I come bearing food!” She declares. Beauty pops his head upover the back of the chair and Selene stops to see him.
“Hello, there.”
“Hi.”
“What kind of breakfast do you like?”
“Pancakes,” he replies and something in Marassal’s heartclenches just that teeniest bit.
“Pancakes it is!” She declares, heading for the kitchen.
Selene and Marassal take to the kitchen, cooking uppancakes, eggs, and all the other goodies Selene managed to grab for breakfastwhile Dirthamen and Beauty continue their get-to-know each other situation.
“I want them to be happy, just like any other parent,”Marassal says. Selene stops and she turns to him.
“Why is my approval so important to you?”
“Because I want Dirthamen to be happy. I don’t want frictionbetween us, he is integral to us both now,” he tells her. She crosses her armsand stands still for a moment before letting out a long breath.
“Alright. Fine. But you need to get better at communicating,you’re part of a family now and that means talking to us when stuff like thishappens. Or when you feel like you’re being shut out. Families talk.”
“I don’t want to fight.”
“Sometimes families do that too, but you know what elsefamilies do? Love each other and figure it out.” She pours batter into the pan,turning from him. Fighting. Why fight? The shouting and the accusations. Hisears itch just at the thought of it.
“You and Dirthamen never fought?” She asks after a moment.Marassal shrugs and continues to tend to the bacon.
“Not particularly. There were discussions every now andthen. He did not like to adhere to proper bedtimes, he would stay up readingwith low lights. I got frustrated a bit since it’s not good for his eyes. Butmostly I just gave him everything he wanted.” He flips the bacon, holding asmall barrier over it to avoid the spit.
Selene nods, flips a pancake, “That explains a few things.”
“He’s a nice boy.”
“I’m not saying he’s not. But it’s more than just the two ofyou now. It’s Beauty…and me, I guess. So calland talk to us when stuff happens.”
It’s a little silly how happy it makes him to hear her callhim family. A knot he was barely aware of unties just a bit inside of his andhe is so moved he turns and wraps and arm around her.
“You’re a lovely daughter-in-law,” he tells her. She freezesfor a moment then gives him an odd look before returning to making pancakes.
“There’s a first for everything, I guess.”
They finish making breakfast together, putting it alltogether and taking it out for the new brothers to dig into. Marassal tries totap into some of Beauty and Dirthamen’s desires for food to spur his own with mildsuccess. He nibbles on fruit regardless, to appear at least somewhat normal.
Beauty struggles to feed himself with his hands andDirthamen is there immediately, even before Marassal, holding out a forkful ofpancake for him.
“Beauty says he wants to try the magical healing afterbreakfast,” Dirthamen informs them. Selene and Marassal smile and it all seemsto click into place. His ears don’t itch, his heart doesn’t clench, and there’sno knot in his stomach – this is what he has wanted for so long. Desire that hehad no name for. He drinks in the resolution in, the completion. It fills himwith a warm power, from his toes to his fingertips.
After breakfast, Selene and Marassal sit in front of Beautyand carefully unwrap his hands and feet. Selene’s face goes stony but Marassalcan feel Des’s recoil.
Shit.
The woman who did thisis very dead. Very, very dead. Desire supplies.
Good.
Selene first shows Beauty her magic in the form of littlelight then moves to begin working on his left hand while Marassal takes theright. Beauty shuts his eyes against it while Dirthamen assures him he is doingwell.
They manage to remove much of the necrotic skin, whisperingpowerful healing spells to spur the skin to heal. When Marassal reaches down,he makes a point to draw a claw on his palm – using his own blood to power thehealing. A small sacrifice in the grand scheme of things. When his hands arepink with new skin, they turn to his feet. It’s a slightly different tactic.Scars are different on the feet, only the deepest of them really stay, and eventhen, the skin is shorn off so much with the wear and tear that they don’tlinger like they do on other parts of the body.
Still, Selene and Marassal take care to heal the cuts,cleaning them as they go. By the end, it’s not perfect and he still needs towear bandages, but it’s a marked improvement.
Beauty cautiously stands up, testing his fresh feet out.When it doesn’t hurt like it did, he smiles and wraps his arms around firstSelene and then Marassal for a long time.
“Thank you, Papae.”
Marassal’s heart stops for a moment, “Papae?”
“Dirthamen said we’re brothers now and you’re his father soI just thought….” Beauty stammers and Marassal holds him even closer.
“Papae is perfect. Oh my darling son.”
He hoists Beauty up into his arms and holds him close,breathing him in. His son, his second, perfect son. They’ll make it all work,they’re all family after all.
