A huge thank you to @slothquisitor for allowing me use of her OC, Camina Bestatter! Also available on AO3.
Chapter Eleven
Willow was exhausted.
Granted, she had been exhausted for much of the past year and a half, ever since she had agreed to sign on with Varric's crew after things in the Grand Necropolis had gone… well, more than a bit sideways. She had gotten lucky, there: Vorgoth and Myrna had been willing to protect her, and the representative from one of the noble houses whose interred dead had ben obliterated had washed their hands of the matter completely. If Willow remembered correctly, the Seeker's exact words in her terse reply to their missive informing her about the destruction of the honored dead of her house had been "It is a Watcher Matter. You deal with it."
No one in those hallowed halls of the dead, not even the inscrutable Vorgoth, could have known what path they were setting her down. Nor could any of them have known that long and twisting path that had taken her farther afield than any Watcher before her could have, eventually, ended with her in the cold runed basement room of a casino, pulling a sheet up over yet another murder victim. They were up to five bodies in their little makeshift morgue, now, and while the killer did not seem to be increasing the rate at which they delivered corpses, they also did not seem to be slowing down.
The bigger issue was that Willow and her comrades had not exactly been catching up. They were still chasing down the faintest leads; the most ethereal clues, and thus far they were little farther along in their investigation than when they had started. And yet… and yet Willow could not help but feel as though they were close to something. Maybe not an answer, but perhaps at least a direction to go in that would be more productive than those they had been wandering down the past few days.
Despite Teia and Viago's hesitation, she had taken the steps to reach out, discretely, to her contacts throughout Thedas. It had been a long shot, and she knew it, but at least it had been something to do in between weighing internal organs and testing blood samples against various alchemical tinctures. Truthfully, she had not expected a reply at all. She certainly had not expected a prompt one, and thus she was both surprised and a little annoyed when she had finally decided to step away for a cup of tea only to have one of the Crow messengers slip into the dining hall after her.
"Lady Volkarin," she inclined her head in a slight nod, "Word for you from the south. Amaranthine."
The Warden Commander. "Thank you," she said, accepting the missive, wondering at the speed of communications with the eluvian network now in play. She had barely sent her letters out early yesterday morning. The world truly was changing, and it was good to see that not all of those changes were… well, murderous. Even in Minrathous, which had perhaps experienced the most upheaval following the blighting of their city, change and progress had been hard won and excruciatingly slow. Being in Antiva these past few days, Willow had begun to feel as though everything would remain static after the fall of the evanuris and the routing of the Antaam; that things had at least stopped getting worse, but were unlikely to get much better than the status quo.
But perhaps she was simply impatient.
Dear Willow,
It was so lovely to hear from you! I hope you and your husband are well, though from your letter it sounds as though you have not yet had a moment's peace to enjoy the results of all your labors over the past year. You and Emmrich really must make a trip down to Amaranthine soon; perhaps in the spring. I know Antoine and Evka would be glad to see you, and I bet we could even convince Thea and Loghain to make the journey up from Gwaren.
To your more pressing matter at hand: it is odd that you reach out now about strange disappearances. In fact, we just received word this morning about a noblewoman who apparently went missing two days ago. From what I understand, this individual will… not be sorely missed, if she is indeed one of the victims of your murderer. Lady Letizia Torelli of Antiva was one of the more unscrupulous individuals who attempted to take advantage of mine and Nathaniel's frequent absences from the arling on warden business to make her own power plays, attempting to garner influence through marriage and, it is rumored, poison. Her husband, a minor Fereldan noble, died under mysterious circumstances several years ago, and she inherited the entirety of his fairly expansive holdings.
Nor is that the darkest rumor that swirled around her, but I hesitate to put such gossip to paper. Instead I will simply say that, while I know it is in poor taste to speak ill of the dead… perhaps in this instance the Maker might make an exception. If it is truly Lady Torelli on your autopsy table, whoever killed her quite possibly saved a great deal more lives by taking hers. Based on the report I received with the news of her disappearance, the farmers of the Feravel Plains, particularly those with children, are all breathing a little easier now that she has vanished.
The only other information I received was that the last time Lady Torelli was seen, it was in the company of an unfamiliar woman, another foreigner. The descriptions were vague, but I gather she was of lithe build and rather striking, with tawny hair and dark eyes. Of course, even those meager notes may be useless if your killer is as adept at using glamour charms as you have stated, but it couldn't hurt either, I suppose.
I wish you the best of luck with your investigations. I know how much weight you carry, even now that you ought to have been able to set down your burdens, but you are not alone. You have have our full support, and I know Thea will say the same. If there is anything else we can do to assist, even if it is to simply offer moral support from those of us who have been in your shoes, please do not hesitate to write again.
All my best,
-Cataline
Truthfully, it was more than she had hoped for. While it was still not much, at least Willow now had a fairly good idea of who one of their as-yet unidentified victims was, and where she had come from. And, while it may or may not mean anything in the grander scheme of things, there was another coincidence she had noted in Cataline's letter: just as with Rico, it seemed their victim had not exactly been free of sin themselves. Not that Willow was under the delusion there was such a thing as a 'perfect' victim; she knew they all had their shames and regrets, but at least two of the bodies in their temporary morgue were reported as being particularly cruel or violent.
She tucked the thought away into the back of her mind, returning her focus to the letter, reading it a third time to see if perhaps there was something, anything, in it that might give even a hint to who their killer might be. A long shot though it may have been to reach out for information, at least now her friends and contacts in the far-flung reaches of Thedas would be on the lookout for anything odd. Maybe their net would eventually catch something.
No sooner had Willow finally set the letter aside than the door to the cold-runed room had burst open, and Camina and Lucanis had nearly bowled her over in their haste. "Will, we've got a problem. Possibly a big one," Camina managed between gasps, and Willow wondered if they had run all the way back to the casino from wherever they had been investigating. Lucanis was only slightly more pulled together, though his concern seemed to be more for his partner than for whatever news they had.
"Whoa, Cam, take a deep breath," Willow soothed her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "What happened? Is there another victim?"
"We do not know. That is part of the problem," Lucanis replied, a grim set to his expression. "Camina and I went out in search of Claudia's contact, Pietra. We were hoping she might have remembered something else, or even just been willing to talk about what she has seen over the past few days. Beggars are, as a general rule, excellent sources of information if you have the coin for it."
"They're people," Camina interjected sharply, and Lucanis offered a contrite nod of acknowledgement.
"They are," he agreed quietly. "And perhaps if I and the other Crows had done a better job of remembering that, been more like Claudia, then we wouldn't be in this mess right now. And part of making amends for that is doing whatever I can to find Pietra."
Willow turned her head sharply. "What do you mean, 'find' her? Was she not in her usual spot by the café?"
"No, nor was she at the shelter she usually spends her nights at," Camina answered, the words spilling out of her almost faster than Willow could process them. "We checked the other shelters as well, and asked around with some of the other inhabitants of the Drowned District, but no one could say where she was, or even the last time they could remember seeing her."
There were plenty of explanations for that. The poor of Treviso were much like the poor in any other city: vulnerable, and in many cases, unlikely to be missed. Pietra may have moved on to a different neighborhood or even a different city, especially if she had truly been rattled by the line of questioning Claudia had previously posed regarding the Raven Queen. She may have fallen victim to one of the unfortunately common illnesses that plagued those who lacked the coin to see a healer. There were many ways to die on the streets: all of them heartbreaking, most of them preventable, none of them murder.
Or at least, that was what Willow tried to tell herself as she hurriedly dashed out into the main corridor that led back up the casino proper. She tasked a nearby fledgling with retrieving the rest of their group, with instructions that everyone was to reassemble in the dining hall. Once they were all together, Willow had Camina and Lucanis explain the situation.
"We have to find her," Claudia announced, standing up from the table and already reaching for her cloak. "This is my fault: I'm the one who asked her for information. I'm the one who involved her in this mess and put a target on her back, and I will be damned if I am the one who gets her killed."
"We're coming with you," Camina jumped in, but Willow could see Lucanis and Neve hesitating. She knew they were considering the same dark possibilities that had crossed her mind.
None of them wanted to speak either possibility aloud: that it was entirely possible Pietra was already dead. Their murderer had been working at a brisk clip and seemed to have no problem acting efficiently. It was also possible that Pietra knew more about the murders than she had previously let on out of self-preservation.
"Look, I know none of us want to put this out there," Neve began carefully, "But I do think we need to look at the fact that, twice now, we've been given a lead by Pietra. And twice, it has lead directly to more corpses."
Claudia's jaw dropped, a flash of betrayal and indignation lighting up her eyes. "Are you saying that Pietra is the murderer? Are you insane?"
To her credit, Neve remained calm and managed to keep her reply even. "I am saying that it is possible she is more involved with this mess than we previously thought. It could be as simple as the killer purposely feeding her information to give to us, knowing we would likely go to the beggars of the city for information. If they know as much about us as they seem to, they would know that is the first step we would take. Or, by that same token, perhaps they are also paying Pietra for information about us."
"Pietra would not sell me out like that," Claudia protested, but she no longer sounded as certain as she had moments ago. "She… she's not that calculating, or malicious."
"She may not have done so intentionally," Lucanis spoke up, "And no, Dia, I do not believe she would have done so with ill intent, but that does not mean she did not give anyone else the same information she gave us, or that she was discrete enough to leave our involvement out of it."
Something was not adding up. Willow could visualize the puzzle pieces scattered out in front of her, but every time she felt as though she had fit two of them together, another piece fell onto the table. "We are missing something," she huffed, shaking her head slowly. "This started with Viago, but have there been any other attacks or messages aimed directly at him since?"
"Nooooo," Claudia replied slowly, "In fact, other than my getting thoroughly whacked across the back, I don't think any of us have been directly threatened or harmed."
Camina looked at Claudia. "And I mean… weren't you just telling me earlier that you felt like your fight in the tower felt staged? Like it was too easy to scare off the attacker?"
Willow turned her attention back to the Crow, who was shifting uncomfortably in her seat. "Well… yeah, I guess…" She threw her hands up in frustration. "I don't have anything to back that up, Will," she warned, "It was just a feeling I had up there. Like we were being slowed down rather than actively attacked."
"So you think someone wanted you to find the body, but they also did not want you following them." Willow tapped the side of her cheek thoughtfully. "That would track, but it still does not answer the question of why. Why haven't any of us been target directly for any sort of meaningful reprisal? Even Viago was not actually harmed in the first incident, at least not directly."
Claudia snorted. "I think you underestimate how easy it is to ratchet up his paranoia," she pointed out, "But yeah, it is kind of weird that whoever is doing this knows we are onto them, and that we are investigating this while actively trying to catch them, yet the worst we've gotten out of it on our end is a few bruised ribs and ruined bed linens."
"What about that strange bird that we've seen, what, three times now?" Neve reminded them. "There was one at the site with the two bodies, and it showed up again where we found the maid. I am as positive as I reasonably can be that it was the same damn bird, and it sounds like it showed up against for Lucanis and Camina." Neve looked towards her, and Willow could guess her next question. "You don't think it could be…"
"Morrigan? No, I strongly doubt it," Willow finished the thought for her. "While I do not wish to be dismissive of our current predicament or the lives at stake, this situation does not exactly rise to the level of severity that usually prompts her intervention. She usually only deigns to get involved when there are potentially world-ending stakes on the line. Now, I am not saying there are not other weird birds flying around this city, perhaps even another shifter, but I am fairly confident it is not our famed Witch of the Wilds."
"No, of course not," Neve sighed, slumping back against her chair. "That would be too easy of an answer. Honestly, the magic didn't feel right for her anyways, but figured I would at least throw it out there."
Willow leaned forward, tenting her fingers in front of her face and resting her forehead on them as she thought. If there was one conclusion she had come to, it was that whoever was behind this was not mad. At least not in the most common sense of the word. For all the macabre pageantry and grim theatrics that were being put on display, there was also a very cold, calculated intelligence behind it all. Willow had no doubt they were being herded towards… something. Answers, hopefully. Resolution, if they were lucky.
"Dearest?"
She was shaken from her thoughts by a gentle hand at her shoulder, and Emmrich's hazel eyes casting over her face, flickering with concern. Willow reached up and placed her hand over his, summoning what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "Apologies. I lost myself in thought for a moment there."
"Anything you want to share with the class, then, or can we please get back out there and start looking for poor Pietra?" Claudia demanded, her fist coming down hard on the table before her eyes dropped to her lap and she mumbled an apology.
Willow took a deep breath; tried to remind herself she was doing her best, just like they all were, and everyone was just on edge and likely as tired as she was, if not more so. But she could also feel the familiar tightening in her chest, and the waves of disorientation slowly building in the back of her mind. She could not give into that anxiety, not now. Not when there was too much yet to do. "I do think we should find Pietra, if nothing else for our own peace of mind," she said, choosing her words with care, "But for whatever it is worth? I do not believe she is in any particular danger, even though she has been passing us information."
"Why not?" Camina asked, her head tilted in confusion.
"Well, for one thing, she is not exactly the only person who has given us information. She's not even the only beggar we have spoken with, so it is not as though she would be the only one who the killer might believe they could get away with them disappearing. None of our other witnesses or informants have been so much as vaguely threatened."
"Right, but Pietra's information led us right to three different bodies on two separate occasions," Claudia countered. "The stuff she's passing along to us has actually gotten results, whereas almost everyone else we've talked to has only been able to provide general descriptions that are probably useless anyways, given the killer's penchant for disguises. Or, if we want to take the more cynical view of things, the killer has in fact been feeding Pietra the information, and has now decided they are a loose end that needs to be tied off before she reveals more than they intend her to."
Damn. It was a good point, Willow had to admit. But something still just… did not feel right. Something told her that, if they went chasing after Pietra, they were almost certainly not going to like what they found. "We are missing something," she muttered, more to herself than to the others gathered around the dining table. "Only royal bastards have been murdered, and at least two of them had less than saintly pasts. It could be all five of them had the proverbial skeletons in their closet, and we simply don't know about them yet."
"That reminds me, dearest," Emmrich sighed at her side, "We really must remember to start locking the broom closet door when we are away. Apparently Manfred managed to get stuck again and Myrna found him tangled up with the kitchen mop."
Despite the tension in the room everyone laughed, and the mood felt at least a bit lighter as Willow continued, her mind now picking up the familiar steam that came from picking at a particularly knotty problem. "Viago is the only one who has been directly and deliberately targeted for intimidation, or fear, or whatever we want to call it. For all that, however, he has never actually been targeted for physical harm, or even any further warnings or omens. If the killer truly wanted to frighten him, why stop at one?"
"Maybe because after the first one, we showed up?" Camina suggested, and Willow nodded her head slowly.
"I think you may be onto something, Cam," she agreed. "I don't think Viago was ever truly the killer's target, but going after him got our attention. It drew the rest of us in. But in that case, why? Why us? What message are they trying to send?"
Lucanis shifted in his chair, and Willow watched his eyes dart about the room as though seeking out invisible ears that might be lurking in the shadows. "Or perhaps it is not about a message," he suggested, his tone grim. "Perhaps it is about bearing witness to something that is yet to happen."
"You thought of that too?" Willow asked quietly, and Lucanis nodded.
"Why else would none of us have been truly threatened before now? Claudia was attacked, but we have all agreed it was likely only a diversionary tactic rather than a true assault. While I am doubtful the assailant would have been successful in killing her, they could have done much more damage before they were taken out."
"But that would end the game too soon," Neve interjected, picking up the thread as well. "The killer wants us to keep investigating. I would bet there is something more they want us to find other than dead bodies. Because if we are strictly looking at this from the outside in…"
Her voice trailed off, but Willow could guess where Neve's thoughts had been heading. "Then it would look like Viago is the obvious suspect," she said, "And that he is having the bastard children killed off to clear a path to the throne for himself. But aside from the first victim, I do not believe he has been alone for more than a few moments at a time since we arrived, has he?"
A brief, albeit tired, grin flashed over Claudia's features. "No, Teia has kept a steady eye on him when he wasn't with us. Not that she wouldn't do that anyways, but at least now she has an excuse. That doesn't mean he couldn't have just hired someone to do it: that is our way, after all, but I don't think he'd be stupid enough to summon the rest of us here if he were really masquerading as a nursery rhyme themed serial killer in his off hours. He wouldn't be getting paid."
"None of that matters!"
Willow nearly leapt out of her seat, startled by Camina's sudden outburst. "Look, we can deal with all of this later, but we've lost sight of the biggest problem right now: Pietra has gone missing, possibly a victim of the killer, and we need to go find her. The streets don't care about politics or intrigues or any of this nonsense, and they sure as the void do not care about her, so we need to. Somebody needs to care about her."
Oh. Willow felt a tide of guilt wash over her. She had lost sight of poor Pietra and, perhaps just as egregious, she had lost sight of her best friend's feelings. Willow was one of only two people in the room who truly knew Camina's background; knew where she had come from before she had finally, after too many long years, been taken in by the Mourn Watch. "Cam, I-"
"It's fine," Camina interrupted curtly. "Look," she faced the others, "I know what it's like to be on the streets. I know what it's like to feel like every 'official' institution has turned its back on you, and like you matter even less than the stray dogs fighting for scraps in the street. If my magic hadn't manifested, and if I didn't have my talent for bone reading? My road would likely have never lead to the Mourn Watch. I could have ended up exactly like Pietra, but without the benefit of a Claudia or Lucanis to show me kindness. So you all can sit here and argue about motive and method and whatever you need to, but I'm going out to search for her."
There was a breath of silence, then Willow spoke up for all of them.
"And we are coming with you."
-----------------------------------------
They split up into teams: Neve, Claudia, and Emmrich heading out to make another survey of the local shelters and familiar haunts for the city's beggars, while Willow, Camina, and Lucanis returned to Pietra's normal corner and began combing the area for clues and interviewing the patrons of the café and the surrounding area. No one had seen anything, or at least, no one was willing to tell them if they had, and Willow could tell Camina was getting increasingly anxious.
"Hey," she said quietly as Lucanis spoke with one of the café employees, "I am sorry I did not act sooner on this. You are right: I think I spend so much time amongst the dead and my books that I lose track of my duty to the living. I am grateful that I have someone in my life who is willing to remind me of it. And to call me out when I am being a bit of a twat."
Camina managed a weak smile. "Hey, it's what friends are for, right? Calling each other idiots when the situation calls for it?"
"Right," Willow laughed before the fleeting moment of levity drained from her and she was brought back to the task at hand as Lucanis returned. By the expression on his face, it looked as though he had finally gotten something useful, though not exactly what they might have hoped for.
"Esela spoke with Pietra a few hours ago," he informed them, keeping his voice low, his eyes scanning the area around them for potential eavesdroppers. "She always gives her first choice of their leftover baked goods from the morning service, and Pietra showed up today as usual. Nothing seemed odd or sinister, at least not at first, but Esela noticed that as Pietra was leaving she was approached by a hooded figure. Esela could not see their face, but she guessed it was likely a woman, perhaps a bit shorter than myself and wearing a distinctive silver ring. The hooded figure spoke with Pietra, then the two of them left together. Pietra did not seem to be in any distress at the time, and in fact it almost seemed as if the stranger was guiding her somewhere."
Willow felt her heart sink. If the timeline was correct and the last time Pietra had been seen alive was hours ago, her delay at the Diamond may have been costly; perhaps even deadly. If they had begun the search immediately, the likelihood of still finding the poor woman alive would have been at least somewhat greater. "Did Esela notice which way they went?"
"This way," Lucanis was already moving towards the exit. "I suspect they were heading towards the Drowned District."
Willow and Camina dashed after him, moving as quickly as they could through the market crowds. Fortunately, they were thinning out even as they moved as customers and shopkeepers alike prepared to return to their homes for the evening, and the rain that had been pouring steadily all afternoon was beginning to abate. Still, even with this small bit of luck with them, Willow felt the panic rising in her chest, and she had to fight back the urge to break out into a full run towards the decrepit dwellings perched precariously above the waters in the old section of Treviso.
Please. Please do not let us be too late.
"Maker… look, over there," Camina pointed to a bundle of cloth that had either been discarded or intentionally concealed amidst the reeds. "Is that…?"
"Pietra's shawl," Lucanis confirmed grimly. "She may have just dropped it, but-"
"I don't think so," Willow interrupted, voice shaking. "There is more than just mud on it."
Even as worn and stained as the garment was, there was no mistaking the distinct rusty stains that stood out as fresh amongst the standard dust and detritus of the street. Camina carefully fished the shawl out of the muck with a stick before turning to Willow and Lucanis. "I can't tell if it is her blood or someone else's," she said quietly, almost as though fear had stolen her voice. "I would need a sample of hers to compare it to; to see if the magic resonates, but…"
"Come on." Willow charged forward, not bothering with subtlety any more. If something had happened to Pietra because she had gotten caught up in the academics of all this; because she had delayed, then Willow would never forgive herself. She doubted Camina would be able to forgive her, either. They pushed farther into the Drowned District, passing by the hovels and trying not to pay attention to the suspicious eyes peering out through cracks in door and windows. As they neared the edge of the shantytown and approached the former Antaam camp, Willow spotted the stuttering glow of a candle in the window of one of the dilapidated and, ostensibly abandoned, shacks. Before she could point it out to the others, it vanished.
"There!" She dashed forward, veering towards the spot she had seen the candle.
"Willow, wait!" Lucanis called after her, and she could hear the sloshing footsteps of her friends as they chased after her, but Willow was not willing to risk losing this chance. If she could end this now, then… then maybe Pietra's death would not be in vain. She drew her dagger from its sheath at her waist, then threw open the door.
In the fading light of the winter dusk, it took her eyes a moment to adjust to the scene in front of her. And there was no question in her mind: this was a staged scene, almost as if they were all unwilling players in their killer's magnum opus. Even once her vision had focused, Willow was not entirely certain she could trust what her eyes were taking in. She swallowed hard, carefully shut the door, then turned to face Lucanis and Camina as they finally caught up to her. "Well," she said, almost surprised at how calm she sounded, "I have good news, and I have bad news."
"Well, what is it?" Camina demanded. "Did you find Pietra?"
Willow shook her head slowly. "That is the good news, I hope. She is not here."
"Alright then," Lucanis sighed, and his gaze was grim when it met hers.
"I can take a wild guess as to what the bad news is."
Chapters: 3/?
Fandom: Hazbin Hotel (Cartoon), Hellaverse | Hazbin Hotel & Helluva Boss Universe
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Alastor/Vox (Hazbin Hotel), Charlie Magne | Morningstar/Vaggi | Vaggie, Angel Dust/Husk (Hazbin Hotel), Baxter/Niffty (Hazbin Hotel), Cherri Bomb/Sir Pentious (Hazbin Hotel), Melissa/Velvette (Hazbin Hotel)
Characters: Lucifer Magne | Morningstar, Emily (Hazbin Hotel), Asmodeus | Ozzie (Helluva Boss), Fizzarolli (Helluva Boss), The Seven Deadly Sins (Hazbin Hotel & Helluva Boss)
Additional Tags: Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Post-Season/Series 02, No Main Ship
Summary:
After Vox attempts to overthrow heaven a deal is struck between heaven and the pride ring. All sinners will be given a mark that is paired with their emotional match in an attempt to redeem them and save them in the eyes of heaven or else the pride ring will be set back to 0 and started over.
They have one year to show heaven they can improve.
Explicit | Cullen x Trevelyan | Hawke x Treveyan | WC: 450K + (WIP) | DA:I | Epic | Multiship | Slow burn | Fast burn | Complications While Saving the World
Chapter Summary:
When Garrett rides off in pursuit of Carver, Rose is caught between duty to the Inquisition and duty to her beloved.
Fic Summary:
Lady Rose Trevelyan is in over her head.
Her attendance at the Conclave was only meant to distract her from her failures as a daughter. And then it blew a hole in the world. Marked by an unknown magic, armed with only a few relevant skills, Rose fumbles and fights her way across Thedas with a band of shockingly deadly oddballs dedicated to stopping— well, all of it. As apocalyptic forces conspire to break and remake her, Rose is snared between the tentative devotion of the Inquisition’s stalwart commander and the fierce love of legendary warrior Garrett Hawke, two vastly different men both haunted by hindsight.
Excerpt below the cut 👇
I sweep down to the stables, stubborn determination fast becoming a sturdy flame inside me. I’m the only one who could talk him down— if I can reach him, if I can reach him— if I can just catch him— and Juniper is faster— surely he’d stop for me. He can’t be far. Certainly not past the sulfur pits— the bridge isn’t passable yet— and—
Maker.
And then I’m drawing my horse from her stall, tying her off in the aisle to saddle her before anyone can stop me.
“What are you doing?” Cullen, of course, hushed but insistent. I explain into Juniper’s saddle blanket. He looks over me over, tallying the number of reckless oversights.
“Following Garrett. Carver’s gone.”
“I know. I’ve been briefed. I cannot advise it.” Cullen’s argument punches, but the look I flick over my arm cuts like a rapier. He holds firm but I can, too.
“I’m not letting him go out there alone.”
“He’s already gone. You’ll be vulnerable to the quillbacks and Maker knows what or who else—” His words roll off me like rain on stone. “Listen to me, Inquisitor. Please.”
I make a grudging quarter turn.
“I’ll send our fastest riders after him.”
“I have to go after him,” I mutter. A tiny huff of irritation slips out. “You wouldn’t understand.”
Cullen takes me by the shoulders, his focus clear and unbending.
“But I do.”
The ghost of everything that once was, runs feather-like over me, a prickle of awareness stirring on my skin.
“You are too important to lose in this wasteland,” he says. The stone in my throat breaks into the makings of a sob.
“What if he doesn’t come back?”
“He will,” he says. “I’ll make sure of it.”
I let my shoulders slump, playing up capitulation, toying with capitulation. I look over Cullen, searching for some way to mollify him. His hair is an uncharacteristic chaos of curls and a wash of blood darkens his cheeks. His clothes look hastily assembled. The news of a prison break had surely woken him.
“The fastest riders,” I insist. “He’s only a few minutes ahead of me.”
“I saw him ride out. If nothing else, our men will tail him to make sure he’s safe.”
If I weren’t so stubborn it might have satisfied me. But I’m too nauseated by the possibilities: Garrett perishing out there, picked over by birds, disappearing completely as if pulled through some uncharted rift.
Captured, tortured.
Sacrificed.
“Then I’ll wait for word,” I say.
“I’ll have them bring a bird.”
“Thank you.” I don’t wear deception well, but Cullen seems addled enough he doesn’t notice my tells, carding his curls back into submission, fastening his doublet properly. I clear my throat and straighten. “I’ll be in my chamber.”
I am not in my chamber.
Instead I watch the bailey from the southern colonnade between a stack of grain sacks, waiting for an opening.
Cullen loiters in the lower bailey, conferring with scouts and officers for an agonizingly long time. Hope bubbles up as he strides toward the steps to the command post, and then leaves me in a miserable huff when he doubles back to direct something more. He’s there so long there can only be one conclusion— he has no faith that I won’t hurl myself after Garrett. Imperious prat. I flick hungry weevils from the burlap sacks into the wide void of the bailey below until I accept my captive fate.
I post up on the battlements with a spyglass under a snapping Inquisition banner, scraping the northern horizon for Rosco’s pale mane glowing in the moonlight. Hours are marked by the scouts and soldiers cutting across the flats like dutiful ants, by the arc of Satina and the Great Moon across the dome above, by the slow crawl of nausea. As I dull the tip of my dagger chipping away at the grit of a merlon, the low simmer of my worry heats to a rolling boil.
What kind of a woman lets her beloved run off to die? I’d wanted to trust his prowess and experience, but he’s mine. And there’s only one of him.
The whole night and next day pass and Mike has not returned to the house. Max had taken care of her chores, butchered and plucked a chicken and roasted it along with the last of their fresh vegetables in the oven all afternoon. Then she took the bones and made broth. She ate by herself, did some needlepoint and read her bible by the fire until she couldn’t stand it any more, making a mental note to ask Mr. Sinclair for a few books on his next journey out. He is due in a few days and Max is eager to see him again. With darkness starting to fall and her boredom and paranoia over last night's events rendering her completely agitated, there was nothing left to do except head upstairs to bed.
She sits at the little dressing table that was sure to have been hers . He had called her El in his sleep , and she wonders how she earned that nickname. It was intimately familiar and the way it fell out of his mouth and onto her cheek the previous evening sounded so incandescently… cherished .
Now El’s dressing table is littered with the few trinkets Max has brought from her parents’ home. There is a framed picture of her mother that sits up on one of the small shelves, a decorative flower hair comb her father had given her the summer before he died that she only wore on holidays and special occasions, a tiny figurine of a bird Billy had gifted her one Christmas, crudely whittled from wood, and her favorite childhood book who’s passages now only serve as a place for her to press flowers. Max scoops a bit of the salve she uses out of a glass jar and rubs it along her cuticles and into the skin of her palms where her calluses are dry and fights how it conjures up the same sensation of the mysterious creature’s fingers slipping along her skin and how her brine soaked lips felt when she kissed her.
Max blinks the images away and removes the pins from her hair. It falls down her back and glides over the laces of the corset she hasn’t removed yet. She rubs her fingers along her scalp and sighs contentedly at the sensation of her hair finally being free from its confines. She takes hold of a large section of it and starts working the tangles out with her hair brush. One stroke then another and another, her eyes wandering out the window towards the darkness that has entombed the house tonight. The two oil lamps are lit up brightly and they cast a rich, warm flickering glow to the room, and the cookstove and fireplace still raging downstairs has made the air hot and close.
Max catches sight of herself in the small wooden table mirror. Her skin is painted in yellows and orange hues that brings out her thick orange lashes and hair cascading around her shoulders. Her eyes are light blue like the sky on a fine day and she has a splattering of light freckles across her face and along the ridge of her nose. She finds them ruddy and unattractive, but her mother always scolded her for thinking so; for vanity was not something any respectable Quaker should harbor.
“God does not care what your earthly body looks like, Maxine. He only cares for the beauty in your soul,” she would say.
She was right, of course. And yet, the bitter part of her wishes her mother would also have lived by her late father’s example of fighting for women’s rights. As any admirable Quaker would. Max wishes she would have challenged her step-father’s wishes of sending her off to marry to a stranger against her wishes with a little more gumption. It went against every one of the teachings she had been brought up with. It felt like cowardice. It felt like a betrayal.
Even so, her mother was right. Vanity held no place in a respectable person’s life. Growing up, Max had no notion really of the need to feel pretty, didn’t think it of much importance. Any life she imagined for herself held no need for it. And certainly it was inherently useless to a lighthouse keeper’s wife, left on this spit of land to the raging wind and salt and loneliness.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
The Secrets Among Us
Three years after Lelouch was able to thwart his parents' plans by sacrificing himself, Japan shines in new splendor under the rule of Suzaku Kururugi, also known as the Knight of One of the new emperor, Schneizel el Britannia.
Suzaku had achieved his goal, but his life gets more and more upside down when he falls in love with the Guren-pilot and in addition is threatened to reveal their secrets.
Chapter 2: Secrets
There are secrets that Kallen and Suzaku share. The question is how long these will be kept secret because a certain Lord Bradley threatens to reveal them.
your soulmate fic is healing this fandom I swear. Dunk is going to need a calendar and a planner to manage all his soulmates, and them fighting over who gets to spend time with him, omg maybe even teaching him how to read and write??? (Don't know if he's literate or not)
Thanks :'] I'm happy people like the fic. It's been lovely to get so much positive feedback.
They will all fight over him a lot - King Daeron is very exasperated & for a couple of months Dunk has to have a split custody between King's landing, dragonstone & Summerhall. Egg gets sick of it & tries to run away with Dunk to be hedge knights on a quest, but it just turns into a roadtrip episode when each of Dunk's Targaryen soulmates just appear to join them. It does not help that none of them except Egg are willing to go bald, so end up resorting to increasingly stupid & ineffective disguises.
Aerys - Baelor & Maekar's brother - is the one who teaches Dunk to read & write (all the Targaryens naturally like Dunk)
