An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Summary: As a fresh faced recruit new to the military life, Quentin is scared, lost, and alone with nobody by his side.
Chapter Tw/Tags: No Dialogue But Inner Dialogue, Minor Violence, Implied Illegal Activities, Minor Blood, Internal Conflicts, Manipulation, & Power Imbalances
Down Below is a bit of the fic shared;
It was a brazen trap. A load of hot steaming shit. Panic nearly consumes him, not entirely knowing they're set on stomping the light under their feet.
Inspiration From This Gorgeous Fanart Made By murdermuffinloki:
Sylvie&Pres: We just wanted to make dinner for you.
Loki: I appreciate the thought but it would be great if you two could stop trying to m
⚠️Warning: Minor Language⚠️
Enjoy 💚💚💚
(Please Check The Pinned Post On My Tumblr Page To See If There Are More Parts To This Story)
"Pass the ketchup."
President Loki frowned deeply, glancing at Sylvie who was stirring the pot of...whatever it was they were making for dinner. President Loki hadn't been paying too much attention when Sylvie suggested they cook for Loki who was still upstairs asleep in their room.
Somehow, Loki had got some Midgardian illness and only Sylvie's assurances that Loki was going to be fine that stopped him from destroying the entire Midgardian population.
"Can I get a please?" President Loki said pleasantly, taking joy in the way Sylvie glared at him. It was no secret to any of them that President Loki desired to cause trouble at any given moment.
"I'll stick this spoon up your ass if you don't give me the ketchup in the next ten seconds," she told him, President Loki scowling at her copy of the pleasant smile he had given her a moment ago.
They both knew she would do it too.
President Loki snatched up the ketchup from the countertop with an aggravated sigh. But then a devious smirk spread across his, glancing at Sylvie who was looking back at the pot, hand held out for the ketchup. "Are you sure you want the ketchup?"
Sylvie clicked her tongue. "Yes, I'm sure. Now give it to me."
President Loki's smirk widened. "Well, if you insist..."
He popped the cap off and just as Sylvie turned to look at him with a frown on her face, he squeezed the bottle, ketchup sauce spraying everywhere. The cabinets, the floor and all over Sylvie's blond hair was covered in a coating of ketchup sauce who gasped, an outraged look taking over her face.
President Loki only smiled, tilting his head to the side. "Oops."
"That's it!" Sylvie hissed, grabbing the nearest ingredient which happened to be spicy tabasco sauce and President Loki's eyes went wide as he got a face full of Tabasco sauce.
He shouted as some got into his eye that felt like it was suddenly on fire and squeezed it shut, resisting the urge to rub it. That would only make it worse, he knew.
Sylvie grinned savagely. "I hope it never stops burning, you stuck up bastard!"
President Loki growled low in his throat but Sylvie didn't back down like Loki would have. She was very stubborn like that. "You have until the count of five to run."
Sylvie stepped closer, right up in President Loki's personal space. Despite her short height, she was still rather intimidating when she wanted to be, so much so that President Loki had to resist the urge to step back.
"Or else what?" She hissed out, deadly quiet.
President Loki glared but Sylvie glared right back and they were both sure a real fight was about to break out any second when a voice cut through the heavy silence.
"What in Asgard is going on in here?!"
President Loki and Sylvie turned their heads towards the sound of the voice in unison just as Loki walked around the corner and froze, staring wide eyed and speechless at the mess of the kitchen. He looked tired though and guilt rushed through both President Loki and Sylvie as they wondered if they'd woken Loki up from all their yelling.
"Well, um..." President Loki bit his lip, glancing at Sylvie.
Sylvie looked at President Loki, having no clue what to say. "We just, uh..."
Loki sighed, crossing his arms over his chest, giving them both disapproving looks. "Can you two please not use ketchup and tabasco as murder weapons?!"
"We just wanted to make dinner for you," Sylvie and President Loki stated at the same time, making them glance at each other again.
Loki's expression softened a little. "I appreciate the thought but it would be great if you two could stop trying to murder one another every minute."
That was fair. The pair did quite literally try to kill each other every other day.
"Well, he/she started it!" Sylvie and President Loki protested at the same, pointing at each other.
"Well, I'm finishing it!" Loki snapped before coughing hard, putting a hand over his mouth. He clearly still wasn't well enough to be up which only added onto the pair's guilt. "I'm going back to bed. Clean this mess up and when you're ready to be civil, come join me. I require cuddles and comfort but I will not deal with you two's banter."
With that, Loki turned and left the kitchen, leaving the pair to stare at the spot he had been standing.
"This is all your fault," Sylvie grumbled, waving her hand and vanishing the mess from all the surfaces of the kitchen and herself though she left President Loki to deal with his own mess himself.
"All you needed to do was say please," President Loki muttered. He was going to need a shower since he knew not how to vanish messes like Sylvie and Loki did.
"And that warrants you spraying ketchup all over me?" Sylvie gritted out.
"Don't act like a saint. You're just as bad, dousing me in tabasco sauce!" President Loki muttered.
Sylvie looked like she was going to strangle him any second now before she sighed, all the fight draining out of her body. "Why do we always have to fight?"
President Loki thought about it for a moment before shrugging. "We're different from one another. We're bound to clash. Though I suppose we could try harder to get along. I'd rather this relationship to not be ruined."
Sylvie nodded, leaning against President Loki who instinctively wrapped his arms around her. "Try harder. I can do that."
President Loki hummed softly, pressing a kiss to her now clean hair. "Let's not leave our god waiting. You know how fussy he gets when we leave him alone for long."
Sylvie had no arguments there.
Once they'd finished making up what President Loki found out to be pasta apparently, they headed up to their room (Sylvie had forgiven President Loki enough to clean the tabasco sauce off him thankfully).
They quietly slipped into the room and smiled at the sight of Loki under a large amount of blankets, very obviously curled up in a ball.
He blinked his eyes open when he heard them come in and narrowed his eyes at them suspiciously. "You two had better be done fighting."
"We've agreed to try harder to get along more often than not" President Loki promised as he sat on the bed and helped Loki sit up who whined and protested but brightened when he saw the bowls of pasta balanced in Sylvie's hands.
"Good. I'm glad," Loki muttered, taking the bowl Sylvie handed him eagerly. "Thank you for the dinner."
Sylvie kissed his cheek. "Just get better for us, okay?"
Loki nodded, putting a forkful of pasta into his mouth and closed his eyes as he hummed in pleasure.
President Loki and Sylvie smiled at each other from either side of Loki who leaned into President Loki's side.
Get along. They could do that.
No problem.
...
@murdermuffinloki Those two are going to give Loki a migraine, smh 😂
@girl-with-many-fandoms Hope you like Sylki (I know lots of people don't ship it so I'm like ???) with some President Loki thrown into the mix XD
"Watch it!" Evan growled as you walked past him into Max's office.
You frowned and jerked a thumb in his direction as you looked at Max who was lounging in his chair with his pen between his human teeth.
"What was that about?"
"I just told him what you and I did on his pitiful excuse of a desk." Max shrugged.
"What the hell, Max?!" You didn't bother keeping your voice down; you knew the other vampires in the office would hear what was going on anyway.
"I hear angry sex is a good way to resolve conflict," Max said as he propped his feet on his desk.
You slammed the file that you were carrying onto his desk, "Let me put it this way, Max," you snarled, "no sex for a month is looking like a wonderful option right now."
You stormed out of the room and the vampires working in the office quickly pretended that they weren't eavesdropping.
Max groaned once your last sentence registered, "Of all my no good ideas that got me into trouble, this was hands down, the worst of them."
Author’s Note: So, this is my submission for @idreamofplaid ‘s Bunker Challenge. (Sorry it’s a day late!) And honestly, I have no excuse because this idea actually came to me several months before she declared her challenge. And I STILL procrastinated like a bad procrastinator who procrastinates. BUT it’s finished now, and I’m actually pretty happy with it. :)
This takes place between Episodes 14X8 “Byzantium” and 14X9 “The Spear”. I’ve tried to stay mostly canon-compliant while possibly taking a few liberties with explaining a few things or going into greater detail in some areas that the show didn’t have time for.
I signed up for: Original Room, and Sam-focused (Has a lot of his POV but also POV from other characters at times.)
Title: The Room of Revitalization
Summary: Sam has been working himself into the ground lately, trying to subsist on two hours of sleep a night or less while also being an emotional support for the people around him, and it’s taking its toll. But long ago, someone amongst the Men of Letters recognized the potential for burn-out among their fellows and worked a fail-safe into the Bunker that would activate when one of their own was pushing themselves too far. Trouble is, no one read the right manual that covers its existence, so when Sam seems to disappear into thin air, “worried” doesn’t quite cover how it makes everyone feel.
Pairings: None (Gen-fic)
Warnings: Minor language, talk of past posessions and other traumas experienced by the brothers but nothing explicit, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, some fluff
Word Count: 6,414
Also found on AO3
Sam tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable on the extra-firm mattress that had been in the room when he and Dean and moved into the Bunker all those years ago. Dean kept bugging him to get a new one but he continued finding reasons to put it off. They weren't hurting for funds AS much as they used to be, thanks to a few artifacts he’d auctioned off online as well as Charlie, (THEIR Charlie) showing Sam a few tips in "Creative Fundraising" as she'd called it. But even so, he didn't NEED a new mattress. It's not like the springs were poking out of this one or anything like that. It just wasn't as comfortable as Memory Foam. Which was okay. He didn't need that much extra comfort. He didn't spend that long sleeping anyway.
With a sigh he turned over again and peered at the red numbers on his alarm clock. 2:30 am. He'd be getting up in a few more hours to check on any messages that might have come in during the night from the teams out on hunts. Plus, he still had some more research to do. One group was running into some problems with some murders that weren't fitting any of the standard lore. And he was still researching ways to take out an archangel. Dean was getting more and more antsy about that. Not that he blamed him. It wasn't easy knowing that the thing that had ridden you around for a while was still out there, still causing trouble, still hurting people, and you couldn't stop it. They still didn't know WHY Micheal had just let Dean go like that. Dean didn't want to talk about that either, and again, Sam couldn't particularly blame his brother. But it still niggled at the back of his mind. Micheal never seemed to do anything without a reason.
His arm started to get sore so he shifted over onto his stomach, tucking both arms under the pillow as he tried to get his thoughts to settle. But they continued to flit around in his head like a herd of humming birds. Or would it be a flock? Did humming birds flock? That would be pretty loud. They were louder than most people realized. He remembered one time they'd been in Colorado on a case. Boulder, wasn't it? They were interviewing a witness, sitting out on her back patio, and the little jeweled things had been zipping all around them, from one feeder or brightly colored flower to another. The buzzing of their wings had almost made him think of large insects. Dean had almost swatted one, purely on instinct as it buzzed just a little too close to his head, and the nice old lady had actually hit him with a fly-swatter, scolding him for trying to hurt her babies...
...Why the hell was he thinking about hummingbirds?
Rolling back over, he looked at the clock again. 2:40.
Thing was, he was actually tired. He felt like he should be able to sleep for days he was so bone-deep weary. Not that he could. People needed him to be there, doing what he did; keeping things running. Cas and Jack were off on a small case, just a little over the border in Nebraska. Dean was about ready to jump at any sliver of a chance that came up of dealing with Michael, whether or not they could confirm it was actually a “good” chance. Ketch was still trying to track down another of those golden eggs. (Apparently, the one they'd used on Lucifer back in the day, and then handed over to Cas for safe keeping had burnt itself out on the Archangel. Now it was a pretty paper weight sitting on Storage Shelf 32-C.) Jody and the girls had just had Thanksgiving with Donna over, had invited them all too, but... there was just too much going on. Always too much going on.
At least Jack was okay though. Well, mostly okay. His soul was keeping him alive now. That was another thought that lurked at the back of Sam's mind, like a dark-colored cat hiding in the shadows, ready to pounce when you weren't looking. One of their babysitters when they were kids had had a cat like that. It’d hated Dean for some reason. Was always trying to attack his legs when he’d least expected it. Sam had managed to coax it into letting him pet it a few times. He kind of wished he could get Jack a pet. Something he could feel responsible for, that would also return his affection unconditionally. Goodness knows, the kid needed someone or something that could be there for him.
A tightness formed in Sam's chest at the thought. He WANTED to be there for Jack. He wanted to tell him that he understood, maybe better than Jack thought. He remembered being able to help people with his powers, and then not. Of feeling that helplessness when faced with a demon wearing some innocent person when once he'd been able to pull that sulfurous black smoke right out of the person without killing them. But that was all tangled up in so many other things. Things about demon blood, and the Apocalypse, and his role in it, and Lucifer and Michael, (their Michael) and... and other things. Things he wasn't ready to talk about. And Jack didn't need all of that. He still blamed himself for so many things that weren't his fault. He didn't need to hear about all the horrible things his biological father and uncle had tried to do to the world. And Sam definitely didn't want to get into what it had taken to stop them. It wouldn't help Jack to know that about Lucifer now.
And in the same vein, he wanted to explain to Jack why it was SO important to use this new magic of his sparingly. He wanted to tell him why it was imperative that he not risk his soul. Because he knew... he had two sets of memories still, of that time when his soul had been in one place, and his body and mind in another. He honestly tried not to think about either. One left him reeling in agony, even to this day, and the other left him feeling cold and hallow. But how could he possibly explain to Jack about why he'd been running around soulless for about a year and a half without explaining everything else? He wasn't even sure if he would be able to if he tried. The mind had so many layers, and those memories, both halves, he'd tried to bury as deeply as he could because his brother had been right about hell. There was no "getting over" it. It would be there, forever. It wasn't meant for mortals to comprehend, and it couldn't be fixed with some therapy and talking it out. (Or screaming it out.)
And anything else he tried to tell Jack felt like it came up short. It wasn't enough. Wasn't what he needed. Same with Dean, really. He could probably understand how his brother felt better than anyone else. But the words, or at least the right ones, always seemed to get stuck in his throat. Plus... well, some comparisons he could draw might only make Dean feel worse. He didn’t have the words to help either of them, even as he saw them both struggling, so he’d put all his efforts into helping in any practical ways that he could; making sure Jack ate right so his body would have the strength it needed, researching solutions to the Michael problem, keeping the AU Hunters organized so Dean wouldn’t have to worry as much about all the other monster problems out there, even shouldering as much of the parenting responsibilities as he could so Cas could also be there for Dean. His brother didn’t exactly have a wide support system, so he wanted to be sure he and his best friend had chances to talk. If his brother ever actually felt like talking.
2:55. Exasperated, Sam gave up and got out of bed, deciding to give the bathroom a visit. Then maybe he'd find some boring lore to read.
~o~O~o~
After washing his hands a few minutes later, he started wandering in the general direction of the library. He paused for a moment as a yawn nearly dislocated his jaw, then noticed light coming from under and around a door that was just barely cracked open. He glanced at the room number but something about it... he shook his head abruptly, trying to clear it. It was like when he'd been up WAY too long, and he'd read the same passage in a book over and over again and none of the information would sink in. He hadn't thought anyone else was up...
"Um, hello?" He knocked tentatively on the door, but there was no answer. Opening it cautiously, he peered inside and raised his eyebrows a little. It was a room with the same concrete and brick walls and tile floor as most of the ones there, but where most had a utilitarian, or stuffy feel, this was... cozy. Set into the far wall was a fireplace of green marble that had white and black veins running through it, and a fire was already flickering inside behind a brass screen. Next to it was a coordinating brass bin that held extra wood and on the other side were some fireplace tools. In front of it on the floor was a braided rug in autumn colors upon which sat a comfortable looking armchair, complete with footstool and a small table next to it. The lamps scattered throughout the room gave off just enough light to make it feel inviting without being too bright. His eyes were next drawn to a bookshelf just to the right of the door against the wall. He barely noticed the door closing behind him as he moved to inspect it more closely, finding quite a few titles that he'd often intended to read just for the fun of it but for one reason or another had never gotten around to.
Well, he'd been looking for some way to get his mind to settle... Smiling, he pulled one from the shelf. Its cover was a faded red, almost the color of creamy tomato soup, and on the front in friendly, inviting letters was printed "The Marvelous Land of Oz". Stepping over to the armchair, he settled down into it with a contented sigh. It was comfortable. Really comfortable, considering he usually found it difficult to find chairs that actually fit his long legs and torso just right. A soft, plaid blanket that he hadn't noticed before was slung over the back and he pulled it forward, draping it over his legs before propping them up on the footstool. The lamp on the little table next to him gave off just the right amount of light; enough so he could read easily without straining his eyes, but not so bright as to be glaring. Comfortable now, he opened the book and began reading, the delightful prose helping his thoughts to calm their constant whirling.
~o~O~o~
Sam was just about to start into Chapter 10, "The Journey to the Tin Woodman" when he realized he was a bit thirsty. Dreading the long trip to the kitchen when he was already so comfortable, he almost considered ignoring his thirst for now when his attention was caught by a small but serviceable looking wet-bar against the far wall, made of the deep, rich mahogany that much of the furniture in the Bunker seemed to have been fashioned from. Strange... he hadn't noticed it earlier. But, he thought to himself, he hadn't really looked THAT hard at that particular wall either. Standing up and stretching, he then padded over to it, finding everything in good (and clean,) condition. He considered some of the alcohol that was available but wound up going with just some ice water (yeah, that was fresh ice in the bucket,) for now.
As he sipped the water he took a moment to really look around the room. It had a few wall-hangings, giving the place some color without being jarring to the eyes. Most were replicas (he figured) of old tapestries. There were also a few oil paintings of pastoral settings. In one of the closer corners was an old-time gramophone, the brass edging on the black, lacquered bell gleaming warmly in the firelight. Curious, he set his glass down and walked over to it, examining it carefully. It seemed like it might be in working order. Opening the wood-inlaid cabinet it was sitting on, he found an array of discs for it. Flipping through them idly at first, he paused when he came to one titled “Assorted works by Bach”. A soft smile pulled at his lips and he nodded a little to himself as he straightened back up again. Bach had always appealed to him; something about the precision and purity of the music helped him relax in ways that few other things could. After a few moments he got it working and soon the strains of two violins could be heard coming from the antique music player. He set the volume down low, not wanting to awaken Dean, then took his water back to his chair.
As he sat back down again a feeling of peace seemed to settle over him. A cork coaster was sitting on the small table next to the lamp, (had it been there before?) ready for his glass, and as he leaned into the supportive padding of the backrest, he felt it give way just a bit, and the entire back began to lean back with just a little intentional pressure applied.
If he thought about it... this room kind of made him think of the "Dean Cave". In the way that the "Dean Cave" was the ideal place for his brother to sit back and really relax, this place was ideal for him. Had Dean put this together for him? He was pretty sure they'd found every room to be found in the Bunker, and he would have remembered one like this. And honestly, Dean HAD put his own rec-room together entirely without Sam noticing. With a shrug, he decided he'd ask him about it in the morning. For now, he wanted to get back to his book. Pulling the blanket back over his legs again, he picked it up and delved into the next chapter.
~o~O~o~
Ten minutes later he was blinking as he tried to keep his eyes open, the lower sounds of a cello now reaching him from the far corner.
Twenty minutes later he was snoring softly, the book resting open across his chest. Gradually, the lights in the room seemed to dim, even the fire itself burning down low to just some softly glowing coals which kept the room comfortable but not too hot. The seat reclined back further and Sam sighed, unconsciously pulling the blanket up closer in his sleep.
~o~O~o~
“Where the hell is he?!” Dean yelled. Again.
If Castiel weren’t just as worried as Dean, he might have found himself annoyed at his friend’s constant repetition of the same question which obviously still didn’t have an answer. But, the angel WAS worried. “I don’t know Dean. We’ve searched every room in the Bunker. We even found a few previously undiscovered ones.”
“And none of the cars are missing.” Jack added in, holding up a clipboard with a sign-out sheet, listing all the vehicles the Bunker crew had. Included were the antique ones left over from the previous Men of Letters as well as the random stolen or otherwise obtained ones used for the various other Hunters who came and went. Sam had put it together some while ago when most of the AU Hunters were still using the Bunker as their base of operations. It had made things much less confusing when trying to figure out what was available for supply runs and what was being prepped for going out on hunts. Jack had thought of checking it to see if anything was missing that shouldn’t be. “All the ones not here were signed-out a while ago by people out on long-distance hunts. So, he didn’t leave by one of our cars.”
“It’s been THREE days!” Dean yelled, his voice a bit rough. He’d been doing a lot of yelling for the past two. “His phone’s still here. His clothes are still here. His laptop’s still here. Looks like his bed was slept in. But no Sammy.”
Cas and Jack both nodded. They’d heard the litany of things-not-missing since Dean had called them about two and a half days ago. They had just been wrapping up the hunt they were on anyway, so they’d made their best speed possible back to the Bunker. (Cas didn’t usually like to go over the speed limit by THAT much, but they had mainly been traveling country backroads that were mostly deserted. And Sam was missing. Neither he nor Jack had debated the urgency of the situation.) When they’d arrived Dean had already searched the place high and low, but they’d all done another, even more thorough search; not just looking for Sam himself, but for any clues as to his mysterious disappearance. Little to nothing had been discovered though. There were no signs of blood or other injury, and as Dean had just said, none of the usual personal items were missing that Sam would normally take with him if he were leaving of his own accord. (And with his cell phone there in his room on his nightstand, they couldn’t try tracking him with that.) He hadn’t left by car, or at least, not by any of their cars. None of the warding had been tampered with, nothing looked odd or disturbed outside the bunker, and Castiel hadn’t sensed any odd energies or residues that weren’t normally there. It was like the younger Winchester brother had simply vanished.
He was trying to remain calm for both Dean and Jack’s sakes, but the truth was, all of them were very worried.
“Alright,” came the thick, brogue-accented voice of the most powerful witch any of them knew personally. (And fortunately for them, she had been feeling heavily inclined towards helping them in the past several years, especially, the angel had noticed, if it had anything to do with Sam.) “I think I’ve gotten all the things I’ll need. Now, if ye’ll all just clear one o’ these tables, I’ll get this set up.”
Usually ready for a snappy comeback, Dean instead set right to work clearing-off the table in the middle; the one that had his and Sam’s initials carved into it. Cas and Jack moved to help him with it.
Rowena set down the large bronze bowl she’d been carrying and began removing items from it: several different candles, a mortar and pestle, a silk cloth in which some various herbs were wrapped, a box of matches, and a few other bottles with different liquids or other substances. Her hand brushed briefly over Sam’s initials as she considered them. “Did he by chance carve these by his own hand? Or did ye each carve each other’s?”
Dean looked up briefly, apparently taken off-guard by the question, but noticing that she seemed to be asking in seriousness, he shrugged and shook his head. “Naw, we each carved our own.”
She nodded firmly and began pouring ingredients into the bowl. “Wonderful. I can use that as a focus.” Noting everyone’s perplexed expressions, she rolled her eyes a bit. “Think of it like a lightnin’ rod. Since he carved it, it’ll help draw the energies I’ll be usin’ t’ scry for him. Now, Dean, did ye get a hair or fingernail or somethin’ like that of his like I asked ye to?”
Dean paused in his pacing, nodding as he fished a small envelope out of his pocket. “Yeah, found a few hairs on his pillow.”
Rowena accepted them while Cas and Jack stood a bit to the side, watching curiously. Setting them carefully aside for the moment, she went to work grinding the herbs.
“Thar we go, I think we’re about ready.” Straightening up, she looked over her work again and nodded before waving an elegantly manicured hand at Jack. “Jackie-boy, would ye be good enough to turn off the lights in here?”
Nodding, seemingly glad to have something to do, Jack moved to turn off the overhead lights then each of the various table lamps. Meanwhile, Rowena began lighting the candles which were arrayed in a particular formation around the bowl with one alone, the white one, sitting directly on Sam’s initials. She lit it last, and once they were all that was illuminating the library she began chanting while methodically adding the last several ingredients. Last of all she dropped in the longish, brown hairs and the white candle flared brightly. Cas noticed that everyone, including himself, seemed to lean in closer, uncertain as to whether it was working or not. Rowena’s gaze remained fixed on the white candle, her brows slowly furrowing.
“I don’t like that look…” Dean grumbled under his breath.
The red-head seemed to ignore him for several minutes as the candle flame alternately flared high then down low, almost winking out altogether. Eventually, it grew steady and even and Rowena blew out an exasperated sigh. “Well… that could’a been more helpful…”
“What? What’d you find out?” the anxiety that had gripped Dean since his brother’s disappearance plain as day in his voice.
“Well…” she paused for a moment, seeming to be gathering her thoughts more than any attempt at drama. “I found out that he’s alive, first and foremost.”
The relief Castiel felt was clearly shared with the other two, if their expressions were anything to go by. “But,” she added, holding up her hand to forestall comments, “I canna tell where he is. At all. Well, he’s somewhere on Earth, I can say THAT at least. And that he doesn’a seem in bad health. But wherever he is, it’s blockin’ any attempts at findin’ him.”
Dean sunk into one of the chairs, a defeated look on his face.
Jack looked over at Cas, raising an eyebrow questioningly. The angel shook his head though. “I already tried contacting Naomi. Apparently, I’ve “used-up my favors” in Heaven at the moment. And besides, the Enochian sigils I carved into his ribs a while back would prevent him from being found by angelic means.”
Jack nodded, though his brows scrunched up in puzzlement. “Why would you have-”
“Jack.” Dean’s voice, though not raised like it had seemed to be a lot lately, still held a note of command. “So not the time for that conversation.”
Jack sighed but nodded, his shoulders drooping as a feeling of despondence seemed to settle over him as well.
Rowena, who’d begun blowing out candles and packing up the supplies after turning on the nearest lamp now paused to rest a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Don’a forget, wherever he is, he’s alive and he’s well. We know that much at least. Now, all we can do is wait an hope he returns.
Jack nodded slowly, though he felt a burning in his eyes that had nothing to do with the wisps of smoke rising from the extinguished candles. “But… what if he doesn’t?”
Rowena tried to smile encouragingly, but even she couldn’t keep the sadness from her eyes. She didn’t have an answer for him, so she just gave him another squeeze before going back to clearing-up.
~o~O~o~
Sam yawned and stretched, slowly waking up. As he did so, the lamps in the room gradually brightened and the fire flickered back to life, crackling merrily by the time he’d opened his eyes. Though he was completely comfortable, he also felt fully rested and sat up, the armchair reassuming its original configuration. At some point in the night he must have put the book on the small table because there it sat with a bookmark in it, next to the glass of still cold water. Feeling a bit thirsty, he drank down the rest of it before standing up and stretching, hearing several of his vertebrae popping.
“Might have to come in here more often…” he mumbled to himself, giving the room a last fond look before opening the door and walking back into the hallway. Everything still seemed pretty quiet, so he had no idea what time it was. (He made a mental note to see about putting a clock of some kind in there, next chance he got.)
After using the bathroom he followed the smells of frying bacon and eggs towards the kitchen. Stepping down into the room, he waved casually at those gathered, mumbling out a “Mornin’ everyone.” on his way to the coffee pot, pausing when he belatedly realized that not only had Cas and Jack apparently gotten back in the night, but Rowena was there too.
He didn’t really have time to ponder that before he was attacked by three grown men (well, two grown men and one angel,) trying to hug him all at once, and everyone was yelling, and asking him questions, and he couldn’t understand any of them cause they were all talking at once, and he was feeling very confused.
“Enough!” Rowena’s commanding voice cut through everyone else’s causing them to fall silent, though no one seemed inclined to let go of Sam anytime soon. “Samuel, dear,” she inquired sweetly, “Would ye be so good as to tell us where ye’ve been fer the past FOUR days?”
Sam’s eyes widened as he looked between those hugging him and the witch. “Four…. Days?” he responded weakly. (Cas seemed to have forgotten his own strength and breathing was steadily becoming more difficult.)
The red-head rolled her eyes. “Och, will ye all let him breathe for a minute before ye suffocate the poor lad? Come on…” She tapped at various shoulders until, reluctantly, they let go of Sam who was starting to be able to breathe easier again.
Shaking his head at the shocking news, Sam moved over to the table they’d all just recently been sitting at. (Well, Cas, Jack and Rowena had been sitting at. Dean had been over by the stove cooking something.) “Dean,” he waved over towards the stove. “Think your bacon’s burning.”
Shaking his own head, his brother grumbled as he stalked back over to it. “Vanishes for days and then what does he do? Lectures me about my cooking.” There was no venom in it though. In fact, relief seemed to practically pour off of him even while doing something as simple as turning off the stove and dumping the extra-extra-crispy bacon onto a plate, which he brought over with him to the table.
While Dean was doing that, Sam did his best to collect himself as he tried to reconcile what they’d said with what he remembered. “I was here the whole time.” Reaching out, he idly took one of the pieces and began crunching on it. “In that new lounge room. Though I could swear I was just there from last night… well, early this morning really, til’ now.”
Four confused faces regarded him and he held his arms out in exasperation. “You know, that room I’m guessing you set up for me? Has a fireplace, a comfy armchair, some books, is actually decorated nice…” The faces only grew more confused and he realized now how unlikely it would have been for Dean of all people to have decorated a room like that with tasteful wall-hangings and oil paintings. “You didn’t put it together.”
It wasn’t really a question but Dean shook his head anyway.
Jack, who seemed not only confused but also getting close to irritated also shook his head. “That doesn’t make sense. We searched the whole Bunker. Several times. We looked in every room and broom closet and corner in this place.”
“Samuel,” Rowena interjected, “Why don’t ye just show us where you were?”
Nodding, Sam lead the way back down the hallway, making a few turns until he at last came to a stop outside… a mop closet? Shaking his head, he opened and closed it a couple times, but it didn’t seem inclined to change back to the cozy room he’d spent the night, (or, the last 4 days) in. “I swear, this is where it was.” He was starting to understand how Lucy from the Narnia books had felt that first time she’d stepped back through the wardrobe. Only, the time dilation seemed to run opposite in this case.
“Hold on.” Cas said, and stepped closer, opening the door again. On the inside of it was tacked an envelope of some thick, old-fashioned-looking paper. Taking it down, he turned so everyone could see it. On the outside, in neat handwriting was written:
Room of Revitalization Report
for Samuel Winchester
Men of Letters Legacy
Cas turned it over and broke the red wax seal on the back with the Aquarian Star stamped into it. Opening it, he took out a sheet of paper, also written in the same handwriting. At the top was the current date then the following message:
Four days prior, the Room of Revitalization was activated due to the physical and emotional distress of one Samuel Winchester. (MOL Legacy, descendant of Henry Winchester) As per protocol 158-B the RoR provided comfort based on Samuel’s subconscious needs, releasing him once his chronic fatigue had lessened to acceptable levels.
In order to avoid future reoccurrences of this problem, the following steps are recommended:
Samuel should make all reasonable attempts to sleep for a minimum of 7 hours each night, though 8 would be ideal.
His work-load should be lightened. High levels of mental stress were detected in addition to the physical fatigue.
Several unresolved emotional issues were also detected in relation to close-working colleagues or family members, and should be discussed with them to help improve overall morale.
Several hours each day should be set aside for leisure activities.
It is suggested he be sure to ingest 3 nutritionally-balanced meals per day as well as keep himself hydrated.
Attention to personal hygiene is not only good for the body, but for his and others’ morale as well.
Had matters continued unchecked, Samuel would likely have experienced a mental and/or emotional break, as well as causing physical damage from aforementioned fatigue. We hope he will take these recommendations to heart so further intervention can be avoided.
This concludes this report, and the Men of Letters hope Samuel found his stay in the Room of Revitalization enjoyable and restful.
The signature at the bottom was next to impossible to make out.
After everyone had read it, they looked back and forth between Sam and the “report”, and for his part, Sam felt his face heating with embarrassment.
After a few awkward moments, Dean cleared his throat. “So… Looks like this place has an automatic ship’s councilor and holodeck.” He winked at Sam. “Was there a hot-chick in a skin-tight grey pantsuit in there too?”
Huffing a laugh, Sam swatted at his brother, honestly grateful for the tension-release. “Yeah, you wish. Maybe your version would feature Councilor Troi.” He started walking back to the kitchen and the others followed.
~o~O~o~
Later on that day after Dean had personally seen to it that Sam ate a full breakfast and then shooed him off to the shower, they all said goodbye to Rowena then settled down in the library.
Despite Sam’s insistence that he “really was fine now” Dean, with both Cas and Jack fully backing him up, were adamant that at least some of Sam’s workload should get redistributed. By now he should know which people could be relied on to do what so he didn’t have to micromanage everything. Jack was actually very helpful with that, having several ideas as he’d been observing the AU Hunters for some while now. And after a phone conference with Maggie, she agreed to help with organizing the various hunting parties and everyone (including Dean) insisted that they would help out with research.
After that, seeming to sense that the brothers needed to talk alone, Cas offered to go with Jack on a food run and they headed out, though not without both again expressing how glad they were that Sam was back and okay.
Once the steel clang of the door heralded their departure an awkward silence fell between the two. Sam idly scraped at some wax that had dribbled onto the table, not meeting his brother’s eyes.
“Look,” they both wound up saying at the same time. After a brief chuckle, Dean gestured for Sam to go ahead. Nodding a little, the younger brother again fixed his eyes on the tabletop and the wax. “I’m sorry. Really. I know how worried you must have been.”
Dean was about to open his mouth, ask if he really did but then paused, considering, and…. Yeah. Sam would know how he’d felt. All the times Dean had died, or vanished, or been angel-napped? And then it hit him just WHAT Sam was apologizing for. “Sam. No.”
His brother looked up at that, his brows furrowed, clearly about to say something but Dean held up his hand, silently asking him to let him talk. “Look, I’m not happy that I spent four friggin’ days not knowing where the hell you were, but I’m glad it happened. Man, I know you’ve been pushing yourself. And I shoulda seen it sooner, I should have noticed how bad it was getting. And I’m glad that that “Room of Requirements” or whatever-”
“Room of Revitalization,” Sam corrected, but Dean waved it off and continued on.
“I’m glad IT at least noticed, and did something before it was too late. And… well, I want you to know, if you… you know. Need to talk…”
Sam half smiled but shook his head. “Dean… really. It’s okay. It’s just… lots of stuff is going on. I want to help Jack more, but I don’t know how. I can tell Mom’s still having problems but I don’t know how to help her either. I’m worried about whatever it is Michael is planning. I’m worried Jack’s going to run into problems eventually with his soul.”
Dean didn’t miss the expression that flashed across his brother’s face for just a moment there, that almost haunted look. He’d never really asked him what all he remembered from being soulless, but it was at times like these when he figured it was more than probably either of them would like. He was also aware of the one thing Sam wasn’t saying, the one person in his list of people he was worried about that he hadn’t mentioned. And he could pretty-well guess why.
Ever since Dean had come back, his possession, what he’d actually experienced and even more so how he felt about it, had been the proverbial elephant in the room with them. He knew Sam wanted him to talk about it, and he had to an extent… but he was also painfully aware of certain aspects of the whole situation that neither of them had come close to addressing; aspects of it that he tried to avoid even thinking about. Because even more so than the horror of what he’d experienced at Michael’s hands, what really got to him, and what lay curled somewhere deep in his gut was the knowledge now of just WHAT it was that he’d done to his brother all those years ago. But he knew Sam would never press him about it, and he just… he couldn’t talk about it. He still couldn’t talk about it.
So, taking a deep breath, he nodded. “Yeah, I get all that. Some of it you can’t really help with though, as much as you want to. Some people… well, they have to figure out their own shit, you know?” He met his brother’s eyes, hoping he’d hear what he wasn’t saying. “Sometimes, even if you know what someone else is going through, they still have to go through it on their own. They have to find their own ways to deal with it. But trust me… They know you care.”
Sam met his gaze and slowly nodded, letting what was unspoken remain that way.
Dean managed a half smile though. “But hey, maybe with Jack you two should go do something together. Hang out. Remind him that you aren’t just the “Rules Dad”, but the one who seems to really get him.”
Sam nodded, returning the half smile, though it seemed genuine. “Yeah… I think that sounds like a good idea.”
“Also,” Dean leveled a stern look at his little brother, “under absolutely NO circumstances are you to get anything less than 7 hours of sleep a night.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, 6 is standard for hunters. And I can make due on 5 without problems.”
“Nuh-uh.” Dean was already shaking his head. “I’ll have Cas knock you out if I have to, but you’re getting your sleep. We’re not risking this happening again.”
“Well, what about you then?” Sam raised an eyebrow.
“What about me?” Dean tried to look innocent but he had a feeling it wasn’t really working.
“Come on Dean, you barely get 4 hours if you’re lucky.”
“Hey, I’m not the one the Room of Recharging or whatever-”
“Revitaliztion.”
“Right, I’m not the one it cherry-picked for some enforced R&R…”
Their debate continued on in typical sibling fashion, but it was clear that most of the tension in the situation, at least for now, had been released. The spellwork that had been laid into the very walls of the Bunker long ago reverted back to its dormant phase as the crisis threatening one of its inhabitants was averted for the time being. But it would activate again if the need ever arose. Because Men of Letters tended to be a stubborn lot, and working themselves into the ground seemed to be a universal trait among them, which was why the room had been conceived in the first place. The Bunker watched over its own.
I know it’s a bit late... this one turned out a bit longer than the previous days!
Hope you enjoy!
I know you didn’t ask for this
~~~~~
It was 3 pm on Friday and I was glad the weekend was here. I was walking back towards my dorm with Leliana when I heard my name being called.
“Kylara!”
I turned to see Alistair running up to me, looking a bit flustered.
“Hello, Alistair. What’s going on?”
He paused for a moment to catch his breath, then said, “Maric is hosting one of his ‘oh so important dinners’ at his house tonight… and I had almost forgotten about it!”
I blinked a few times. “Why are you telling me this?” I asked, genuinely curious.
“Ah… well, it is sort of required for me to… bring someone.” He rubbed the back of his neck in an awkward gesture. “I know it’s last minute… and I totally understand if you have other plans…”
“Of course she’d love to go,” Leliana piped up as she elbowed me in the ribs. “Wouldn’t you?”
“Well, um… I guess?” My cheeks were pink. “I mean… I don’t… have any other… plans.”
“Great!” He leaned over and gave me a peck on the cheek. “You are a lifesaver, Kylara! I’ll pick you up at seven, okay?” He then ran off.
I groaned. “Leliana! What have you done?! I don’t have the first clue how to act at one of those type of dinners! I don’t even have anything fancy to wear!”
“Well, it is a good thing I just got my paycheck! Let’s go shopping!”
Two hours later, we were back in our dorm room with several bags worth of items. Leli had dragged me from store to store to look at dresses, shoes, undergarments (to my utter embarrassment), and makeup. After making all the purchases, I blanched at what she’d just spent on me.
“How am I going to pay you back for all this, Leliana! This is so much stuff!”
“Don’t worry about that now! You have a date we must get you ready for!! Oh, this is SO exciting!” She unwrapped the burgundy satin dress from the thin, clear plastic bag the salesclerk had wrapped it in. “You and Alistair have become quite close, no?” She giggled. “And to think you didn’t want to go to that party two months ago! Now, look at you!”
“I have only seen him a handful of times since the party. We are… friends. Sort of… Nothing more!”
“Friends, hmm?” She gave me a sly smile. “Well, I happened to hear from Morrigan, who got it from Fenris, who was told directly from Bull, that you were alone at his place about two weeks ago? Hmm? You also came back into our room quite late that same night, if I remember correctly.”
“I was there to study for my biochemistry test… and then he took me out to dinner afterwards.”
“Ooh! Dinner?! I bet it was really romantic! Alistair just strikes me as that type of man…”
I thought back to that night. What had started as a simple study session, then ended with a stupid fight (that I had started) over grilled cheese sandwiches… After helping Alistair put out a fire in his condo, he had taken me to a very romantic restaurant. It was completely innocent though, my inner-voice justified. Just cheese fondue… and wine… My cheeks felt hot. “I think I should just get ready,” I mumbled.
“Yes, yes,” Leliana gushed. “We have much to do to get you beautiful!”
After a half-hour practicing walking in the high heeled shoes Leli has insisted on, I was not falling down anymore… but I was still wobbling quite a bit.
“Do I have to wear these ridiculous shoes? I am going to make a fool of myself, I just know it!”
“But all you have are sneakers, Kylara! You can’t wear sneakers with a gown!” she admonished.
“Don’t you have any flats I can wear?”
“I wear a size smaller than you, Kylara, so I don’t think that would work.” She sighed. “Look, once you are in the house, you will probably be sitting down to eat. You’ll be fine!” She glanced at her watch. “Look, it’s almost seven. Let’s get out to the lobby of the dorm.
Heads turned as I walked (wobbled) out into the dorm common room. I heard people talking behind my back. Most of the whispers had people wondering what I was so dressed up for, and there were several cruel comments about my pale skin and chubby body.
“Ignore them,” Leliana said as she saw me taking a slight step backwards. “I think you look lovely.”
Just then, the front door opened and Alistair walked in dressed in a full, form-fitting tuxedo.
Maker’s Breath but he is stunning!
My knees were shaking and I was sure my face was bright red. Alistair saw Leli and me and walked over to us, a huge smile on his face.
“Kylara, you look… beautiful.”
Now the comments behind me took on an angrier tone.
What is she doing with him?
How did that fat geek get a date with the single most handsome man in Denerim?!
What the fuck does he see in her?
She’s gotta be sleeping with him, otherwise, why would he bother?
Alistair must have heard a few of these comments because he glared around the room and all grew quiet. Smiling at me again, he took my arm into his and said, “I’ll take it from here, Leliana. Thank you.”
“Have fun, you two!” Leli grinned and blew kisses at us both.
We walked outside the dorm and a blast of cold winter air hit me. “Oh, it’s freezing out here! I don’t have a coat!”
“Don’t worry,” Alistair said. “The car is right here and the heater is already on.”
I glanced up to see a stretch limo parked on the street and my mouth gaped open. As soon as he saw us, the driver quickly got out and opened the door for us.
“Thanks, Blackwall.” Alistair assisted me in the car, then slid in beside me. Blackwall shut the door, then got behind the wheel.
“Y-you hired a limousine for tonight?” I squeaked out.
Alistair smirked. “No, it’s Maric’s car. I would have driven my own, but he’s all about impressing people at these dinners… so he insisted I use the limo to come and pick you up.”
“Oh,” was all I could manage to say. “Ah, what does he know about me?”
“I haven’t had the time to tell him much. He knows that you are a year behind me and that you go to the same school. I also told him you are very smart and pretty.”
I looked down at the floor of the car. “Alistair, I am not pretty.”
He turned in the butter-soft leather seat to face me, then used his fingers to gently tilt my head back up. “Yes, you are. You should stop doubting yourself.” He smiled at me. “Is that a new dress?”
“Um… yes. Leli took me shopping after you… invited me.”
“The color is striking on you. I noticed right away when I picked you up tonight. However, we might want to…” He reached up and gave a tug on something on the shoulder strap. I heard a muffled snap and then he held out the price tag of the dress to me.
Mortified, I took the tag and quickly stuffed it into the handbag that Leli had loaned me for tonight.
Alistair put a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Don’t fret over it, Kylara. Stuff like that happens more often than you think, even amongst the wealthy.”
Perhaps, I thought bitterly. But I am sure they pay a lot more than 75 sovereigns for a dress.
Just then the limo pulled up to a massive mansion. Nauseous butterflies fluttered in my stomach. Ohh… what have I gotten myself into?! Blackwall opened the door and Alistair exited first, then held out his hand to me… an encouraging smile on his face.
I carefully stepped out of the limo, but my ankle wobbled in the heels again and I stumbled a bit. Alistair quickly scooped his arm around my waist and steadied me. I saw what I assumed to be disapproving frowns on other dinner guests who were slowly making their way to the front doors of the mansion, and my face flamed red again.
“Come on now,” Alistair linked his arm with mine. “Let’s head on in.”
At the front doors, there was a huge qunari standing there, nodding and greeting guests as they arrived. He didn’t have horns on his head like Bull, but he still looked very stern and serious.
“Evening Sten,” Alistair greeted him.
Sten nodded once and then said, “Your father is waiting for you in his study. I was told to tell you to report to him as soon as you arrived.”
“Very well, thank you.”
Sten nodded once again and then turned to face the next arriving guests.
Alistair took a deep breath, then said, “Well, let’s get this over with.”
At the study doors, Alistair knocked once, then twice. The doors were opened by a very handsome, tall, blond-haired man. His blue eyes twinkled. He quickly grabbed Alistair’s hand, pulled him into a quick bear-hug, and gave him a thump on the back.
“Al, you little devil. How are you this evening!”
Alistair gave a half-smile. “Cailan.” He then took my hand and led me up to his half-brother. “May I present my half-brother, Cailan. Cailan may I introduce my companion for the evening, Kylara Amell.”
“Pleasure to meet you, young lady,” Cailan said with a wide grin as he shook my hand. “Though I’ll admit, Al hasn’t said much about you. How long have you been together?”
“Oh… um… We aren’t. Together, I mean. We’re just friends… from school.”
“Just friends?” Cailan eyed Alistair with curiosity. “I was sure that after the incident with Ellie Cousland that you’d get right back into- ”
Alistair shook his head. “Now isn’t the time to discuss that, Cailan. Please, just drop it.”
Another set of doors in the office then opened and another tall, blond-haired man strode out – though his hair was greying at the temples. The air of authority he had around him made me take a few steps behind Alistair for protection.
“Then when will be the time, son?”
“Maric.”
Maric immediately frowned and I saw Alistair wince. “I’ve told you repeatedly not to call me by my given name.”
“Fine…” Alistair gritted out. “Father.”
“That’s better.” Maric then looked behind Alistair, where I was trying not to cower, but failing. “And who is this young lady here? Is she the one you told me about this afternoon?”
“Yes… father. This is my companion for this evening, Kylara Amell.” He gently tugged my hand to bring me closer. “Kylara, may I present my father, Maric Theirin.”
Maric took my hand and gave it a squeeze. His eyes raked coolly over me and in that moment I knew I had been judged… and deemed unworthy. He let go of my hand and then said without looking at me a second time said, “Nice to meet you.” He then gave what I figured to be a curious glance at Alistair before quickly changing the subject. “There are a lot of influential people here tonight, Alistair. I hope you make the most of it and greet them all.”
I saw Alistair give a faint nod. “Yes, sir.”
“All right, let’s all head down for cocktails. Dinner will be at 8:30 sharp.”
Maric quickly strode off. Cailan followed but briefly turned around to me. “Nice to have met you, Miss Kylara. Do enjoy yourself this evening.” He then turned back and jogged a few steps to catch up to his father.
Alistair sagged slightly against the nearby wall.
“Are you okay?” I asked quietly.
He took a quick breath, stood back up straight and muttered, “Fine. Just dandy.” He caught my concerned look and then gave a weak smile. “Come,” he said and took my arm. “I think I could use a good stiff drink right about now.”
Back downstairs, the bartender asked what I’d like.
“Sex on the Beach,” I said quickly.
“I beg your pardon!” he exclaimed.
Alistair chuckled. “Ah, how about a Sidecar for the lady, and I’ll take a Whiskey Sour.”
“Yes, sir. Very good, sir.”
Our drinks were quickly made and handed to us. Alistair then gently led me away from the bar. I took a sip of what he ordered for me. It wasn’t too bad. Then I glanced up at him. “Did I do something wrong back there?”
He smiled and said, “This isn’t like a club or a college bar, so a lot of drinks you may be used to aren’t going to be available. Mar- ” he paused for a brief second. “My… father… only carries the high-end spirits and liquors.” He leaned in close and whispered in my ear, “I don’t think Maric would know what Peach Schnapps was if it came and bit him in the ass.”
I giggled at his comment but quickly stopped when I saw disapproving stares from some of the other guests.
Alistair lead me around the room as people mingled and chatted quietly. He gently pointed out several high profile people.
“That man over there,” he indicated a dwarf with a very hairy chest and wearing gold chains on his neck, “is Varric Tethras. He is an accomplished author renowned throughout Thedas. Most of his stories concern themselves with outcasts and tragic mistakes. Have you read any of his books?”
I shook my head, but said, “I know Leliana has both ‘Hard in Hightown’ and ‘Swords and Shields’. Maybe I’ll borrow them from her now.”
“Over there,” he carefully pointed at a stern woman with cropped black hair and a scar on her left cheek, “is Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena Pentaghast.”
“So many names?” I commented quietly.
“She is, or was Nevarran royalty. Now she is Right Hand of the Divine and Seeker for the Chantry.”
“Oh.” I wasn’t really sure what all of that meant, so I just nodded slightly.
Alistair also pointed out both Empress Celene and Duke Gaspard, both from Orlais, and the Prime Minister herself, Anora.
So many powerful people in the room, my head began to spin. So many things I could possibly say or do that could easily offend any one of these people. My legs began to tremble. I really don’t belong here…
Alistair noticed my discomfort. “Are you all right, Kylara? You look a bit pale.”
“I… I think I just need to sit down… for a bit.”
He nodded and began escorting me to some chairs in the corner of the room. Just then, a thin, tanned elf with blond hair tied back in a queue came up to us.
“Zevran,” Alistair said with mild surprise. “I thought your business with Maric had been completed already.”
Zevran gave an oily smile. “What can I say? My services are apparently in high demand.” His eyes then drifted over me. “Ah, and who is your charming companion this evening?”
Keeping one arm around my waist to hold me steady, he quietly said, “This is Kylara. Kylara, Zevran is a… business associate… of my father’s.”
Zevran picked up my hand and kissed it, though his eyes didn’t leave my face. “Zevran Arainai, at your service, dulce doncella.”
His accent had me curious. “Where are you from, Mr. Arainai?”
He flashed a bright grin at me. “Oh, no Mr. Arainai. That is far too formal for me, yes? Just call me… Zev.”
“Zev?”
Alistair quickly spoke up. “Zevran will be just fine.”
Zevran gave a short laugh. “As you wish. As for your earlier question, I hail from Antiva. Antiva City, to be precise.”
My mouth formed a small ‘o’, then I asked, “Isn’t that the country that has that secretive organization, The Crows?”
Zevran’s eyes glinted, “Oh? And what exactly do you know of such things?”
Alistair stepped in. “Probably nothing more than what local tabloids and gossip magazines have spread, right, Kylara?” He gave my waist a slight squeeze, but I saw Zevran’s eyes dart down and then back up to us.
“Uh… y-yes. Just gossip magazines,” I mumbled.
“I see.” Zevran’s lips were thin, but one corner curled mischievously. “It was nice to have met you, Kylara. Alistair? Give your father my regards.” He bowed once, then left us.
Alistair let out a soft breath. Making sure that Zevran was out of earshot, he then muttered, “I really don’t trust him.”
As we continued our way to the chairs, I trembled again. “I made another mistake, didn’t I?”
We sat down together on a small setteé. “There are rumors,” he began, speaking very softly, “that Zevran is a high ranking person in The Crows.”
Aghast, I whispered, “They don’t really assassinate people anymore… do they?”
“I don’t know. But I would definitely not mention it any more this night.”
Fearfully, I nodded.
“I am going to get us another drink. Will you be all right here by yourself?”
“I… should be.” Alistair got up, but I caught his wrist. “Please, hurry back, okay?”
He smiled and nodded, then left.
Suddenly, Zevran reappeared and swiftly sat down next to me. I tried to remember to breathe.
“You would do well to heed this advice, Kylara.” The way he said my name gave me chills. “You are out of your league here. You should go back to your dorm and put any more thoughts about Alistair Theirin out of your pretty little head. He is not for you.”
Trembling, I managed to stutter out, “W-we’re just fr-friends. That’s all.”
Zevran put his arm around my shoulders and leaned in closer. “Ah, but you see, that is just the thing. Friends can become much more. So were I you, I’d find some reason to tell him you are no longer interested in being ‘friends’… or better yet, perhaps you should consider changing schools, yes?” He got up, graceful and fluid, then before my eyes, vanished into the shadows.
I glanced all around the room. No one else had apparently seen this. Had I just imagined that whole scenario? I then noticed I was clenching something in my hand. I carefully opened it… to reveal a tiny origami crow.
Alistair returned shortly and handed me a large glass of red wine. After the scenario with Zevran and finding the tiny paper crow, I had stuffed it into the crevice of the setteé. I took a few deep calming breaths to try and settle my jangling nerves. Can’t let him know that anything is amiss. Just need to get through the rest of this evening… then I can work out what I will do.
“You are doing better?” he asked.
I took a sip of the wine and replied, “I’m fine.”
“Well, that is good.” He held out his hand and helped me to stand. “Come now, it is time for dinner.”
Dinner was an utter disaster. For one thing, I wasn’t seated next to Alistair, but all the way at the opposite end of the table. I could barely see him at the far end, seated near Maric and Cailan. Secondly, I looked at the place settings and wondered why there were so many utensils on the table.
I grabbed a piece of bread out of a basket and began nibbling on it, trying to calm myself again, only to get frowns of disapproval from the high-end guests seated near me. It was then that I noticed that no one was eating anything yet. They were patiently waiting for Maric to begin.
I tried to slowly set the roll back on my plate but accidentally dropped it. It bounced off my lap and onto the floor somewhere under my chair.
A few moments later, the first dish was now being served. A covered plate was placed in front of me and then opened to reveal some type of shellfish, still in its shell, with a green sauce covering it. I grabbed the nearest fork to me and stabbed it into the shell, not realizing that they were all sitting on a bed of coarse salt. Salt granules scattered off of my plate and went all over the table.
“What do you think you are doing?” It was the woman Alistair had introduced as Cassandra. Her Nevarran accent thick, she scowled. “Have you no manners?!”
Mortified, I put the big fork down, then realized that all the guests were using the smallest fork that had been at the end of the lineup of utensils. I murmured quietly, “I-I’ve just never been to a dinner… such as this.”
Her voice dripped with disdain. “That much is obvious.”
I wanted to vanish, but instead decided I’d be better off just trying to get this meal over with as soon as possible. I picked up the delicate fork and this time carefully pierced the meat. I had never eaten anything like it before, but since everyone else seemed to be enjoying it, I figured I should at least try it. It tasted salty and rich. I chewed carefully then swallowed. Deciding I didn’t care for it, I set the tiny fork down and decided to wait for the next course.
Several minutes later the shellfish plates were cleared and the next covered dish was set in front of me. The lid was lifted and what I saw made me blanch. It was clearly raw meat, and on top of that was a tiny uncooked egg yolk.
“Um…” I tugged on the sleeve of one of the men serving. “I think my dish wasn’t cooked?”
“Mademoiselle, that is steak tartare. It is supposed to be raw.”
Raw fish I could handle, as I loved sushi… but raw beef? My stomach churned. As the other guests were eating the meal and I saw the egg yolk running down the plate, I knew it was too much. I quickly got up, but in my haste, I knocked over my wine glass.
“My dress!” Cassandra cried. “You clumsy girl!”
I could take no more. I stumbled away from the table. My high heel pierced the dinner roll that had been under my chair, causing me to trip. But I managed to get away and to the bathroom before I vomited on the floor.
From the other end of the table, Alistair saw what had happened and tried to get up.
“Sit… down,” Maric commanded.
“But… I need to see if she is all right.”
“You don’t need to do anything but stay right here.”
Alistair glared at his father. He put his napkin down, pushed his chair back and stood up. “Please accept my apologies, everyone,” he said crisply to the guests. Then he got up and walked off.
I heard a knock on the bathroom door. From outside Alistair spoke, “Kylara? Are you all right?” There was a pause and then, “May I come in?”
Weakly, I replied, “Yes.”
The door opened slowly and Alistair walked in. He saw me sitting on the floor of the bathroom. Red splotches covered my skin.
Alistair knelt down next to me. “Oh! W-what happened!”
“I… I think I am allergic to whatever that shellfish was.”
“Oysters. They were oysters.” He held my hand. “Will you be okay?”
“I think so… I only ate one.” I didn’t mention that I had thrown it up. “I have antihistamines back at the dorm.”
He stood up and then helped me up. “Let’s get you back home then.”
We rode back to the college in the limo in silence, then I finally said, “I’m sorry I ruined your fancy dinner.”
“You didn’t ruin it. After we left, I am sure that they continued on as if nothing had even happened.”
“But… I ruined Cassandra’s dress. She will probably insist I buy her a new one!”
“No. She won’t. I’m sure Maric will have already taken care of it.”
I held back a sob. “Your father doesn’t like me, does he?”
Alistair scoffed. “Maric doesn’t like anyone much. Don’t worry about what he thinks. I still like you, Kylara. Very much.”
I turned to look at the scenery blurring by the limo windows. I wiped a tear off of my cheek. “Why?” I asked quietly, “What is so special about me?”
“You are not like any other girl I have ever known. You are quiet, sweet, smart. You are also fiery, passionate about what you believe in…”
I smiled a little, even as another tear fell. “Even when I argue about the perfect grilled cheese?”
He chuckled. “Especially then.” He was silent for a moment, then said, “I want to continue being your friend.”
I thought back to what had happened with Zevran and the threat he had delivered. I shivered. “I… I don’t think it is a good idea, Alistair.”
“What? Why?” He sounded surprised… and a little hurt.
“I know you didn’t ask for this, but you were born into privilege… and with that comes specific obligations.” I let out a sigh. “I am not like the people who were there at the party tonight. I made a fool of myself in front of them all. We are two very different individuals, Alistair… and I don’t belong.” My chest felt heavy. “Not with them… and not with you.”
The limo pulled to a stop outside of my dorm. Without waiting for Blackwall to open it, I got out and began slowly walking to the side entrance to the dorm. I didn’t want to face anyone who might still be in the lobby. Suddenly my ankle wobbled and I fell to my knees. “Curse these fucking shoes!” I took them off and threw them into a nearby bush. Then I began to cry.
A moment later, I felt Alistair place his tux jacket on my shoulders. “Come on now, Kylara. Let me help you up.” Weakly, I accepted his hands as he pulled me to my feet. He walked me to the door, then finally asked, “Kylara, please. I know you think we have nothing in common, but I don’t want to lose you as a friend. I will give you some space for the moment, but I hope that you will reconsider.” He leaned down and gave me a gentle kiss on my cheek. “Give me a call or text whenever you feel ready, all right?”
I could only nod in silence. I then scanned my student id on the door panel and walked into the building. The lights were off in the hallway and when the glass door closed, I could see Alistair standing there with his hand on the door. Then he turned and slowly walked away with his shoulders slumped.
Fortunately, Leli was not in our room to cross-examine me about tonight. I sat down on the edge of my bed and it was then that I realized I still had Alistair’s tux jacket on my shoulders. I carefully took it off and then cradled it in my arms. When I held it up, I could smell his scent on it. I held it close to my nose and inhaled, then hugged it to my chest as fresh tears began to fall.
Request: I have a comedy request if your interested. Basically something happen and certain characters has switch bodies with each other.
This one-shot was really fun to write down even though body swaps aren't my favorite trope usually. Now I decided to do this with background characters and a rather unique duo, Quentin & Rupert. I always wanted to explore their dynamic as I do have a somewhat set thing for the pair.
Tw/Tags: Body Swap, Magical Accidents, Attempt At Humor, Mild Insulting Language, Platonic Relationships, Developing Relationship, Getting To Know One Another, Character Development, & Minor Worldbuilding
Trying to keep his cool Quentin felt the strong urge to punch a hole in the culprit's face, "This is getting to be ridiculous. You better know a way to revert this or I swear"
Unnatural happenings like this weren't a common occurrence, not insanely rare but it didn't occur every day so nobody would know how to deal with it.
"It's not that bad. I can almost easily switch you guys back in no time. I swear" Henry says apologetically, stepping back, "You and him just have to wait a while, okay. Maybe a few days?"
Upon hearing the news his eye twitching involuntarily as he loudly hisses out, voice cracking in unimaginable ways, "You got to be fucking kidding me!? I do not have the time for this?! I can't be stuck in his body for however long you three dumbassses can fix it!?"
Quentin could never begin to understand why General Galeforce thought the group, Triple Threat as people call them, was ever a good idea. The three only brought reckless danger to every place they went and now everyone, even outside of them like him along with Rupert was facing the consequences of their actions.
"C'mon, Quentin. Take a chill pill, will you? This can't be as bad as you're putting it? Being in Rupert's body isn't exactly a lose situation?" Charles shrugged, far from keeping it hidden that he's finding this amusing.
"Not that bad? Are you damn serious with me? I look simply ridiculous" He explained as he motioned to his current body, a top heavy, burly young man with spiky black hair and wide orange eyes. "I look like a mismanaged porcupine who got doused with a bucket's worth of hair gel. Honestly, I can go on"
"Me too. Your body isn't a God's send either. No wonder you're so angry all the time? Being the size you are, it surely must have weighed you down for all these years?" A familiar voice, his, snapped at him, egotistical smugness making the air supervisor just squirm in his skin in growing unbridled anger.
"Ah. Hey Rups. How's it going?" Charles then asked, doing his best to have the hot headed pair not ignite yet another fight.
"Like shit" Rupert grunted, appearing disheveled, coated in sweat, clothes such as the jacket hanging off his shoulders, and by his contorted face, he's internally struggling with the entire ordeal, "Though being in his body, not the least surprised whatsoever it doesn't handle anything like heat well. Being the age and size you are"
Quickly wiping his head around, grimacing openly at the other man stuck in his body, Quentin huffed irritably, "Why you no good piece of shi-"
"Quentin. Rupert. Play nice since this isn't going to help anyone. More so the two of you" He heard Charles mutter under annoyed breath.
"Yeah. Maybe it'll help if you guys get well acquainted with one another? Since this isn't going to change any time soon" Two firm hands belonging to Ellie patted them hard on the shoulders instantly shutting the two argumentative men up, "Alright. Good to hear"
"Hmm. I have this guy. Gadget Gabe who likely knows how to handle this. Give me some time to figure it out"
Henry reassured them in a genuine tone then they were left alone in a room to possibly settle their clashing differences. They never got along the moment they were introduced, often tending to butt heads. Until this precise moment where they needed to get along for their sake.
"... So… This uh... How is it like being in my body, Price…?" Sitting down in a free seat where it didn't creak under his weight, Quentin ran a hand through a new, full head of messy locks.
"It's shit. Whatcha expect?" Rupert continued with his venomous words filled with spite ensuring the headache the older man had persisted on.
"Great. Wonderful. Let me guess? It's Drake and Josh, right?"
"How did you know?"
"The horrified look on your face, the antsy attitude and how the jacket is hanging off you. Besides that I know my two can be well… Handsy with me?"
"And you're fine with that?"
Fiddling with his fingers Quentin waved Rupert over to sit next to him, "Eh. From years dealing with them. I got used to it. They don't mean any real harm from it"
Awkwardly and to Quentin's shock, Rupert sat down opposite to him stiff as a stone statue, looking elsewhere then at him.
"I'm more surprised they haven't noticed we switched bodies? Though they're constantly drunk, so really. Not too much anymore"
"If they're doing this and just a nuisance to you, why don't you get the General to rid them?"
"Don't know myself either. I. I think I've got a soft spot for them. They're good at their jobs when they're sober… And I know they're just being affectionate, that's how they communicate. Again no real harm and if I said or done something, they would've stopped"
In understandable disbelief Rupert rolled his eyes and spoke up, "I suppose. I would've booted them out personally myself"
"You didn't, I can tell. You froze up when you were handling them… I'll speak with them on the matter"
"Ugh. Not used to this, that's why?" Rupert grumbles as he runs a hand down his face, wiping the sweat off.
"I get it. I haven't had to deal with being a soldier again. It's decades since I've been a recruit. Well, I clearly wasn't expected to be on my feet constantly"
"Uh huh. That's called exercise. At least you're able to handle it. Your in my body so that helps"
"Son of a… Shut up" Quentin gripes. "We're not going anywhere"
"Going somewhere? As they said we got all day, a couple of them exactly to better know one another?"
"Fuck"
Already feeling drained from his energy, tense conversation leaving Quentin to gulp as he puts up a good enough face to make it through the remaining day.
Third Part From This Fic Inspired By The Gorgeous Fanart Made By murdermuffinloki:
Second Part From This Fic Inspired By The Gorgeous Fanart Made By murdermuffinloki:
Pres.Loki: Hello Stark, it has been a while.
Tony: Hi t
Evolving off of this ^ here's more of that story
⚠️Warnings: Angst, Lokicest, Nightmares, Minor Language, Some Violence, Tonycest⚠️
Enjoy 💚❤💚
(Please Check The Pinned Post On My Tumblr Page To See If There Are More Parts To This Story)
President Loki felt helpless.
It wasn't a feeling he liked, especially now as he struggled against the hands pinning his arms behind his back while forced to watch them grab Anthony and throw him down to the ground.
His stubborn little mortal wouldn't go without a fight, kicking out his legs when the TVA agents drew near him, shouting to let President Loki go and cussing them out.
President Loki yanked one arm free, throwing a punch but a baton hit his back with more force then he thought was capable and went down onto his knees, gasping in pain.
"No, stop it! Stop, you're hurting him!" Anthony screamed, standing up and backing away though his eyes didn't leave President Loki's kneeling form. "Just let him go and you can have whatever you want!"
The TVA agents didn't listen.
President Loki hated feeling helpless because it was the very emotion that rolled through him when he watched that one TVA agent grab Anthony's wrist, the genius screaming and lashing out in anger but it wasn't enough to stop them when the pruning stick touched his skin.
Anthony disappeared in a flash of golden sparks before President Loki's very eyes, Anthony's shocked face and golden brown eyes being the last thing he ever saw of him.
President Loki had screamed and screamed after that, hatred taking over and he managed to kill three of the agents, including the one who had pruned Anthony before they managed to subdue him.
When they pruned him, he was grateful for it.
Until he realized that wasn't the end.
Because it was never so easy.
The nightmares of what horrors his Anthony must have gone through after being pruned haunted his nightmares. Dreams of Anthony on his knees, Alioth heading straight for him and President Loki once again helpless as he watched the person he loved be consumed by the monster.
...
President Loki lurched up with a gasp, hands scrambling at the blankets, reaching for someone who wasn't there. That hadn't been there for years. Still, Anthony's voice echoed in his head, screaming for him to save him even though he couldn't.
"Hey, you okay?"
President Loki squeezed his eyes shut tight. Norns, he sounded so much like him.
There was some shifting around and then arms were wrapped around him, a kiss pressed to his cheek though he still didn't open his eyes. "Was it bad dreams again?"
President Loki gave a single stiff nod.
There was a soft sigh, another kiss placed to his lips this time. "Do you want to talk about it or do you want to have nice cuddles with me and Prancer?"
President Loki managed a tiny smile, opening his eyes to look at Tony. "Cuddles sound very pleasant."
Tony grinned, turning to Loki who was apparently not asleep as President Loki, instead eyeing President Loki worriedly. "Scooch over, Bambi. Our Variant needs some cuddles."
President Loki chuckled slightly at Tony's antics even though it made his chest ache for his Anthony. Everytime he thought he was getting past it, he had more dreams, more nightmares and that cold ache came back, reminding him all over again of what he had lost.
Despite being cocooned in Loki and Tony's arms, it took President Loki a while to fall back asleep.
...
"I wanted to ask you something."
President Loki glanced up from his book, across the table at Loki who had set down his own. "Yes?"
"Your Anthony. How did he die the first time?" Loki asked softly. "You do not have to say if you do not wish to. I was just wondering about it. I know the second time was from the TVA killing him but you never did tell Anthony and I how he died the first time."
If anyone else had asked him, President Loki would already have torched them but this was Loki. It was different.
"It was an accident he died," President Loki sighed. "You and I both know how your Anthony gets himself into trouble despite being a genius. It was his own stupidity that got him killed in the end."
"Is that so?" Loki asked with a small smile.
President Loki nodded, chuckling a little. "He was experimenting in the lab, said he was working on a dangerous project. But then, he always said that and it would turn out fine in the end."
President Loki looked down at the floor with sad eyes.
"This time, it didn't end well. The lab blew up, creating a hole in the side of the Tower. When I got there, the place looked like a war zone, everything obliterated in the blast," President Loki explained quietly. "Anthony was gone. Evaporated in the blast."
Loki eyebrows knitted together. "That's why you're always in the lab with Anthony now, isn't it? So you can protect him if anything goes wrong."
President Loki nodded. "If I had been there, I could have teleported him out or shielded him from the blast. But I didn't because I wasn't there. I lost him that day and it took years to get him back, only for the TVA to take him from me again."
Loki didn't know what to say to that. He couldn't ever imagine being without Tony, not wanting to even consider the possibility.
Instead he stood, rounding the table and sat on the chair beside President Loki, pulling him into a hug. Loki wasn't the most affectionate person in the world, not like Tony was but when it mattered, he was always there to comfort the people he loved.
President Loki wasn't one to cry but even then it was a struggle to keep the tears at bay as he whispered. "I didn't even get the chance to tell I l-love him one last time."
...
It was a few days later that there was an Avengers mission alarm. The Avengers never protested President Loki joining them for the mission. After what he had done to Steve, the Captain was too afraid now to say no to the Variant.
So they headed to central park where apparently there was some sort of scientific disturbance that Shield couldn't identify. When they got there however, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
"Shield's pulling our leg, aren't they?" Tony muttered to himself, crossing his arms over his chest though he kept a close hand to his arc reactor that would activate his suit tech. "Fury is trying to ruin my Saturday."
That's when a portal appeared high up in the air, the same one TVA agents used, instantly making Loki summon daggers to his hand and President Loki not-so-subtly standing in front of Tony protectively as a ball of green flames appeared in the palm of his hand.
They all stepped back when a small figure of a person fell out of the portal, screaming at the top of his lungs as he fell through the air and landed with an 'oomph' on his back in the grass. The man groaned, turning onto his side as he curled up into a ball, gasping for breath. "N-never fucking again."
President Loki's eyes widened as that was...it sounded just like...
"Is that...?" Tony trailed off as President Loki rushed forward to the man who was struggling to sit up.
President Loki dropped down to his knees, grabbing the man's shoulder who yelped in alarm, whipping his head around, golden brown eyes panicked before he saw who it was. "Loki?!"
"Anthony," President Loki whispered and this time, he really did cry as he pulled his mortal into a bone crushing hug, causing Anthony to squeak but still hugged back just as tightly.
"Easy, babe. I'm okay. I'm here now," Anthony whimpered, soothingly running a hand through President Loki's hair. His suit he wore was shredded in multiple places, one of his shoes missing and his face was a little scratched up but otherwise he did in fact, look okay. "Sorry I took so long."
"By the N-Norns, Anthony. Is that really what you're c-concerned about?" President Loki hiccupped.
Anthony had the nerve to grin cheekily at the god but quickly changed tact as he leaned forward to capture President Loki's lips, kissing him hard. "Fuck, I missed you."
"I m-missed you too. S-so much, Darling," President Loki whispered. "I l-love you, Anthony."
"Love you too, Blueberry," Anthony murmured before looking up and seeing Loki and Tony. "Oh, wow. I look even prettier than I thought. No wonder you're hanging out in this timeline."
Tony grinned cockily, though Loki just rolled his eyes. "Now there's two self-obsessed Stark's. Lovely."
"I thought you were dead," President Loki muttered. "What did you expect me to do?"
Anthony blinked. "You...oh, shit, Lokes. I didn't think...I didn't know that you thought I was dead."
"I thought Alioth got you," President Loki whispered, voice pained.
"Not gonna lie, the thing almost did," Anthony admitted with a shrug. "But I got away. I looked everywhere for a way out of the place to get back to you and make sure you escaped those assholes who sent me there and eventually found this."
He held up a TVA Tempad.
"It was dead when I found it, along with the person it must have belonged to but I found that Tesseract thingy you're obsessed with," Anthony explained.
"I'm not obsessed with it," President Loki mumbled.
"I heard from some Loki's that there had been a President Loki there once who escaped with another Loki Variant back to his timeline. So that's where I went," Anthony finished as if he hadn't been interrupted. "And here I am."
President Loki smiled a little, Anthony reaching up to wipe away the tears streaking the god's cheeks. "My stubborn little mortal. So stubborn you wouldn't even let death take you."
"Nope. Nobody gets to take me but you," Anthony said with a wink that made President Loki roll his eyes. Anthony nodded towards their doppelganger's. "So, why'd you really stay in this timeline?"
President Loki raised a skeptical eyebrow. "I'm sure you already know, Love."
"Ooh, yay. Foursome time? I haven't had sex in years. You owe me big time," Anthony grumbled. "Can't believe you were having sexy threesome times without me."
"I thought you were dead!" President Loki protested once again though Anthony only laughed, standing up on his feet, brushing himself off despite his suit being ruined and offering a hand to President Loki who took it. Anthony helped him back onto his feet and held onto his hand as they walked over to the pair.
"So, I heard something about 'foursome time'," Tony said before either of them could say a word.
"Oh, I like him already," Anthony said with a grin. "He's got the right thinking."
"Well, he's Vice President in my timeline so he is rather intelligent," President Loki stated.
"Ooh, what would I be in your timeline? Secretary?" Tony asked eagerly.
"Don't be ridiculous. That's obviously my position," Loki teased. "You'd be the team mascot."
Tony pouted as President Loki laughed.
Loki shook his head. "This is as far as I'm willing to expand this relationship."
"Fine with me," Anthony said, eyeing Tony who gave Loki puppy dog eyes.
"Can I kiss him?" Tony pleaded. "I've always wondered what it would be like to kiss myself."
"Go ahead," Loki muttered though he still smiled when Tony made a happy sound.
"Pucker up," Tony said, Anthony smirking as he grabbed the front of the genius' shirt and smashed their lips together.
"They will never change," President Loki said with a chuckle.
"I wouldn't want it any other way," Loki said with a content hum as he leaned against President Loki, watching the two geniuses pull apart, breathing heavily.
"I'm a fantastic kisser," Anthony breathed with a delighted smile.
Tony laughed breathlessly, turning to Loki with wide eyes.
"Can we keep him?"
...
@murdermuffinloki I just couldn't bear poor President Loki to be without his own Anthony so I had to fix that. And of course, we all know Tony would be a complete sucker for himself XD
Sigh... still behind, but I am catching up... slowly.
Listen, I Can’t Explain It, You’ll Have To Trust Me.
~~~~~
Ugh, I hate Mondays, I thought as I headed back to my dorm room. Two surprise exams today – which thankfully I felt I had done well on – and a lab report due on Wednesday! The report would take me all of tonight and tomorrow to research and write… so I knew as soon as I dropped off my stuff, I’d have to get to the library. I hoped I would be able to see Alistair for a little while tonight. His father kept him busy this whole weekend, so we didn’t get any of our usual time together.
I stuck my key into the lock of the room I shared with Leli, then I noticed a large, padded envelope sticking out from under our door. Odd, mail usually goes to our individual P.O. Boxes. I opened the door, then reached down and picked up the envelope. It wasn’t addressed, it simply had my name scrawled across it.
At first, I thought Alistair must have stopped by and delivered something, but when I looked at it closer, it wasn’t his handwriting. I didn’t recognize it at all.
Only one way to solve the mystery… open it! I closed our door, dropped my books and backpack onto my bed, then sat down at my desk. I grabbed my scissors and cut the envelope open. When I tipped it over, out slid several supermarket tabloids.
Who’d send these to me? I don’t read this garbage! Then I noticed the covers and my heart just about stopped.
Alistair Theirin to Wed Ellie Cousland!
Theirin Playboy Finally Settles Down!
And
Engaged At Last!
On the first magazine, the photo was a little grainy, but I could clearly see it was Alistair, with some thin, blonde girl clinging to his arm. On the second cover, they were both seated in the back of a limo (Maric’s?)… and in the third? Maker’s Breath! He was kissing her!
Hands shaking, I dropped the tabloid on the ground. I felt nauseous. Was there an explanation for this… or had I been played all along?!
I took out my phone and slowly dialed Alistair’s number. I need to know the truth.
He answered on the third ring. “Kylara? Hey sweetie! What’s up?”
I couldn’t get the words out, especially when he called me sweetie.
“Hello? Kylara? You there?”
“Yeah,” I managed to choke out. “I’m here.”
“What is wrong?” He sounded concerned, which had me feeling even more conflicted.
I finally managed to stop my shaking voice and spoke a bit clearer. “Wrong? Funny you should mention that.” I took a deep breath and then said, “Yes, something is wrong.”
“You sound almost… angry at me. Please tell me what is going on?”
“Can you come over here?
“Right now? Well, I am in the middle of a report I am writing… Can you give me an hour or so?”
“Just… come over as soon as you can.” I hung up the phone.
As I waited, tears burned behind my lids. I wanted to tear each and every one of these scandalous magazines into tiny pieces, but I knew I needed to show him the evidence first. I wonder how he’s going to explain his way out of this?
I was expecting to have to wait for a while longer, but to my surprise, there was a sudden knock on my room door.
“Kylara? It’s me. Open up.”
I opened the door and Alistair walked in. He tried to give me a quick hug, but I backed off. “I thought you had to finish your report,” I muttered.
“You are angry. This is more important. My report can wait. Now, please, tell me what is wrong?”
I said nothing. Instead, I just strode over to my desk and then wordlessly handed him the tabloids.
He took the magazines and then looked at them. There was silence for a moment, then he muttered, “…the fuck?” He looked up at me and then said, “Where did you get these?”
“They were in an envelope… Someone stuffed it under our door here.”
“This… this is bullshit!”
“Of course they are bullshit, they are supermarket tabloids!” I seethed. “What I want you to explain are the pictures on the covers!”
Alistair looked confused. “But… that’s just it. I don’t know anything about this.”
“How could you not know? You seem pretty close to her in this third cover!” I couldn’t help it, hot tears fell from my eyes. “And here I thought I was the only one with whom you shared that intimate Orleasian kiss!”
“Kylara, I swear, I am telling the truth! I really don’t know anything about this! Listen, I can’t explain it… you’ll have to trust me. ”
I sat down on my bed and rubbed my eyes, trying to get rid of the tears that wouldn’t stop. “I-I don’t know if I can… They say a picture is worth a thousand words…”
Alistair threw the offending tabloids to the floor, knelt down by my bed and took my hands into his. Reluctantly, I let him. “Kylara, I haven’t even seen Ellie since Satinalia! I was ‘summoned’ as usual” I’m not going to scare her by telling her that Zevran threatened me with a gun just to get me there… “to Maric’s house for his holiday party. She came into my father’s office and told me she wanted to get back with me.” I started to cry harder, and Alistair gave my hands a squeeze. “Kylara… sweetheart, I told her no. She cheated on me!” He reached up and brushed the tears from my face. “She is arrogant, vain, and selfish. You are beautiful, quiet, and sweet. I think that makes it pretty clear who I want. I want you.”
Just then Leli came into our room with a few bags worth of snack foods. “Oh, Alistair! What are you doing here?” Then she noticed my tears. “Kylara? What’s wrong? What’s going on?”
Alistair pointed at the tabloids on the floor. “Someone put these in an envelope and slid them into your room today.”
Leli picked them up off the floor. Her eyes grew wide as she looked at each cover photo. “Is this true, Alistair?”
“No! Of course it isn’t! I was just telling Kylara that I haven’t even seen Ellie since Satinalia! Someone must have done this with the specific intent to hurt Kylara!”
“Hmm…” Leliana opened the first tabloid and began skimming the pages. Then I heard her chuckle.
“This isn’t funny, Leli,” I said with a frown. “Why are you laughing?!”
“Because… these are fake.”
Alistair sighed in exasperation. “I know they are fake!”
“Not in that sense… There are no articles in here that match the covers! In fact, all of the articles here are from at least six months ago!” She threw the magazine back on the ground. “Kylara, someone doctored these old tabloids with these pictures to deliberately to get you upset.”
“Why?”
“Someone is obviously jealous that Alistair is interested in you and not them. It was a cruel prank, nothing more.”
“But… these photos. Even if the magazine is fake, these are still pictures of you, Alistair.” I looked away from him. “I-I don’t know what to believe right now.”
Alistair placed his fingers gently on my face and turned me back to face him. “Yes, they are pictures of me… They are from back when she and I were dating. They are old pictures and they do not matter now. What matters now is that I am here with you and it is only you that I care about. If you have to believe in something, believe in that.” He then stood up, giving me a tender kiss on my cheek. “I’ll take these things and throw them away. Don’t let them trouble your thoughts any further, sweetheart.”
Leliana bent over, picked up the tabloids, and handed them to Alistair. He rolled them up tightly in his fist.
“Why don’t we get together later this week, Kylara? We can go to a movie or have dinner. What do you say?”
“I… guess so,” I replied softly. “I’ll think about it.”
“All right. For now, though, I need to get back home and finish that report I was working on. I’ll call you later.”
I nodded. He then left our dorm.
Back outside in his car, he unrolled the tabloids and looked at the covers again. He sighed. I hate lying to her, but she is already feeling vulnerable and hurt. These aren’t old photos of Ellie and me… I vaguely remember going to the country club this past weekend with Maric and Cailan… and it is possible Ellie could have been there – as her parents are members too. But I don’t recollect seeing her at all that night. I know I also had a few drinks, but nothing that would account for me not remembering these pictures… unless… Unless someone drugged me? But why?
He threw the magazines into the passenger seat of his car and gripped the steering wheel. Someone must have drugged me… and possibly Ellie… and then posed us to take these incriminating photos… It wouldn’t take much to then use Photoshop or some other editing tool to make them look like tabloid covers. He shook his head. All this just to set up an elaborate hoax to hurt Kylara? I know Maric doesn’t approve of her, but this kind of prank is far beneath him. I don’t know who did this… but I will find out.
