my first sfawtde fanfic!! i would post it to ao3 but i dont have an account, so im just posting it here
It had been three weeks since the defeat of the king in yellow. Avery, heartbroken and exhausted, had long since returned home to his base. If you could call it ‘home’. It was a house, certainly, with walls and windows and a door and a roof, but just that. A place to sleep, store items. Avery had a home, once. It was not like that. Homes were a place of comfort, and safety—not just physical safety, but emotional safety. Homes had a family.
It had been a while since Avery had a home.
But it was fine. He was fine. He harvested his wheat and beetroot, replanted. Made more bread and soup, Ate. Gathered wood, planted trees. Went to sleep, woke up.
It had been three weeks since d3rlord died to save him, and Avery was doing perfectly fine.
Avery thought about d3rlord often, how he knew everything about Avery while Avery knew nothing of him. “Who are you,” Avery had asked. His only answer: “I am d3rlord, the knight. I am here to help you.” A knight, huh? Avery wondered what—or who—he was meant to be protecting. Did he like being a knight? Was he good in combat? What were his favorite foods? It felt so strange to mourn someone who he hardly even knew. But Avery was no stranger to grief, no stranger to guilt. And he harvested his wheat.
Until today. It was midmorning when he heard it—a knock at the door. He turned from his crafting table and frowned, confused. This far from any roads or civilizations, he hadn't ever had a visitor. To satiate his curiosity, and as to not be rude, he dusted the flour off his hands and opened the door, only to freeze. There, slumped against his doorframe, was d3rlord3 himself. After adjusting from his momentary shock, Avery rushed to d3rlord’s side to make sure he was still alive. After pressing two fingers under his jaw to confirm he had a pulse, Avery decided the best course of action was to bring him inside and check him for injuries under all the armor.
The latter turned out to be the much more difficult task of the two, surprisingly. Avery would have thought it to be easier, as he had so much experience putting on and taking off his own armor, but it proved to be a very different task when it came to removing someone else’s armor, let alone an unconscious person’s armor. Finally, though, he took off the last piece and began to check d3rlord for injuries. He had bruises all over his body, but thankfully there didn't seem to be any open wounds, other than minor scratches. Rolling him over to check the other side, Avery realized—he had wings. They were broken and bloody and looked as though someone had (rather recently) cut a good chunk of them off, but they were wings. Avery hurried to grab a water bucket and clean up the blood. Gently, he dabbed at the crusted blood, wiping it away as best he could. There was a lot. Inspecting the wings further, it seemed as though something had most definitely chopped off a good chunk of the wings. The thought made Avery angry, and sad. Who would do something like that? It was just cruel. When he had done all he could, he wrapped the wings in bandages. (Rather badly, but it was hard! How was one even supposed to wrap that properly??)
Finished with his work, he hauled d3rlord up and laid him out on the bed, then settled down into the chair next to him. He’s alive. Relief washed over Avery as it sank in. I’ll get to ask him if he likes being a knight. I’ll get to ask him what his favorite food is. Avery watched the slow rhythm of d3rlord’s breathing, and he realized he was crying. He sniffled, wiping the tears from his cheeks, only for more to take their place.
pt.2
