Touch prompt: in a moment of annoyance for Lothuial x Abelas if you’re feeling inspired?
NB: Lothuial took the name of Sagrell when she won the seat in the House of Ballads and has been using it ever since as a tribute. Few know her true name.
You get a glimpse from before Arlathan fell. Before Abelas learned of Lothuial’s true name. Before they even were a couple.
Enjoy the Idjits
******
He watchesher as she keeps hammering some useless pieces of junk. At least, he hopes itis, considering there won’t be anything much left once she was done with it.
Abelasdoesn’t move from his spot, fully aware that Sagrell is already knows he’shere. And she couldn’t care less. Then again, he’s cautious. Coming too closeto her, too soon might have the opposite effect and have her focus all herenergy on him.
And… hewasn’t ready. Not after how their last meeting nearly turned out.
A grunt andgrowled out curse made him look up just in time to see she had broken herhammer. He bit back a smile. He never considered himself a linguist but hangingaround the Alfar, he had managed to learn more than a couple of words. Nonethat could be said in polite company, but he was happy knowing them all thesame. He still doubted it was what Faervel had in mind when he encouraged his protégéto follow the mortal woman.
Sagrellstared at the shaft for a moment before shrugging and throwing it away. He sighed.It was the third (or fifth) she broke since she first came down to the smithy thatmorning. She stared at him for a long moment and scoffed softly.
Before hecould react, she had stepped forward and pressed her forehead against hiscollarbone with a sigh. Abelas’ hands had gone up reflexively and hovered for amoment before he settled them lightly above her elbows. “Feeling better?”
Sagrellmade some kind of noise, part grunt part snort. Unless it was another one ofher choice of swear words, one he didn’t know of. He chuckled earning himself aglare as Sagrell turned her head to look up at him. “You won’t change the Fae, lethallan.No matter how hard you try or how much you want to. You can’t change them, it’s not in their nature.” he said gently.
She rolledher eyes before settling back against his chest with a sigh, butting her headagainst his shoulder a couple of times for good measure. “I know…” she saidafter a time, softly.
And he couldonly rub his thumbs against the skin above her elbows, unsure what to offer ina way of comfort but still willing to try.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 3/?
Fandom: Dragon Age (Video Games), Kingdoms of Amalur
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Abelas (Dragon Age)/Original Character(s)
Characters: Abelas (Dragon Age), Female Fateless One (Kingdoms of Amalur), Alyn Shir, Agarth, Mythal (Dragon Age)
Additional Tags: Slow Build, Slow Burn, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe, Pre-Thedas, Arlathan, Dökkálfar | Dokkalfar | Dark Elves
Summary:
Long before Thedas, before Tevinter and the fall of Arlathan, the world was called Amalur. In the mist of a war opposing Immortals to Mortal, a young Sentinel meet a Champion. A Champion with the power to change, everything.
A huge THANK YOU to @bearly-tolerable for beta reading this :D
*hugs* *hugs* *hugs*
Chapter 3
He didn’t know what to expect and was a little annoyed by how it had become his usual attitude whenever she was concerned. Alyn had mentioned that Sagrell was prone to stick her nose into people’s business but he surely had not expected this. Abelas stopped in Canneroc, fast on the tracks of the annoying woman, only to find the village still cleaning up the remains of what appeared to be a giant spiders’ attack. The villagers eyed him with caution as he crossed over the small bridge. “Halt!” one of the men shouted as Abelas reached about half of the bridge. He looked like he was the one in charge of the small militia. “I mean no harm. I am only looking for someone.” the Elvhen said, raising his arms slowly to show his empty hands. He had noticed this was often the best way to interact with shemlen. “I am looking for a woman. An Alfar woman.” he continued.
All at once, the villagers turned toward a young girl, standing by the doors of the village’s only inn. “What? I don’t know this man!” the girl protested. She was obviously an Alfar, her white hair was pulled back, showing her pointed ears, but her skin was a light purple. Clearly, she was one of the Ljosalfar.
“Ah… no.. Not that one.” Abelas tried to say but was rudely cut off by one of the men.
“What?! Our Alfar is not good enough for you?!”
“No! It’s…”
“I said I don’t know this man!”
“He said he needed an Alfar. Let’s give him this one! Good riddance I say!”
“The first one that touches Menri will answer to me!” It was one of the younger men who shouted, startling everyone, before he stood in front of the girl. The whole village was silent, even the young Alfar girl, who stared wide-eyed. “Billis..?” she asked softly
The boy blushed, nearly matching his hair and beard, but he stood his ground and simply adjusted his grip on his hammer. “Forget it Menri. I will not let them sacrifice you to that Fae!”
“Ah… I am not a Fae.” Abelas pointed out, trying to be helpful but still fascinated by the drama unfolding in front of him. He wasn’t the only one. Everyone just stood there, watching the couple stare at each other and oblivious to anything else.
“Enough!” A voice rang out, shaking everyone back to reality. “No one is sacrificing anyone, and no one is killing anyone.” Abelas looked around, hoping to see it was the one he had been looking for but no. The voice belonged to a tall, red-haired and fair-skinned woman. The villagers grumbled a little, spoiled of the happy ending they were expecting. Even Abelas was feeling a little disappointed in not knowing the outcome.
“You have no authority here, healer.” The man who had stopped him growled.
“We’ll talk about that the next time you stand bare-ass in my office, Barten.” She turned toward Abelas. “What is it that you want, stranger?”
Abelas took a deep breath and lowered his hands slowly, relieved that someone was willing to listen to him at least. “I am looking for an Dokkalfar woman.” he said. “White hair, dark skin, silver eyes. Goes by the name of Sagrell.” He wasn’t sure what name she might have given the villagers but decided to take a chance.
“We know her alright. She went off to fight the Widow,” the woman said.
“The Spider Maid has awakened?” Abelas could not believe it; another story of the Fae had been changed. Barten hesitated for a moment before stepping forward and handed him what appeared to be a map of some sort. “She said she wanted to fight the Widow’s in her lair,” he told Abelas. “I’m sure she won’t mind some help. I’d go but it's best I stay here in case the spiders attack again.”
Abelas privately agreed. Barten looked like he was the only one with proper military training and the rest of the village would definitely benefit from his guidance in case of another attack.
************
Following the direction to the Widow’s lair had not been particularly difficult. In any case, the trail of spiders’ corpses would have clued him in. It looked like it had been quite a fight and he was a little disappointed he had missed it. He finally came to a small clearing just as Sagrell was coming out of the Hollow. “Why is it that each time I see you, you are covered with various gross things?” he called out and grinned when she whirled around, her daggers suddenly materializing in her hands. She visibly relaxed when she saw it was him. “I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe you have some kind of kinks about Alfar women covered in the blood of their enemies. Or, corpsy bits.” Sagrell continued as she gingerly plucked what appeared to be some spider’s guts off her shoulder. Abelas couldn’t help but chuckle at the expression of disgust she made. The withering looks she gave him didn’t help either.
“Once you are done laughing at my expense,” she said, testily, “perhaps you can tell me what you’re doing here? I thought you were on your way to Ysa with Faervel.”
“I was. But someone was late in their meeting with the King so I was ordered to go back and look for them.”
“… You were ordered.”
“I… volunteered.” He confessed after a moment. Sagrell just looked at him, clearly surprised. He shrugged. “I was worried,” he said, a bit sheepish. Truth be told, when Faervel asked him about it, he had tried to explain what he was feeling was only concern for the Alfar’s safety. After all, Sagrell seemed to be the only one who could face whatever was happening in Faelands, more specifically Alabastra. Even the Storyteller seemed to think so. Faervel had merely smiled and told his apprentice to bring the woman safely to Ysa. “In any case, we should get going.”
“Ah… no.”
“What? What do you mean ‘No’?” No one said no to a Sentinel’s order. No one.
“I am not going. At least, not right now.”
“Sagrell…” There was a warning in his voice.
“Abelas, I have been fighting spiders, undead corpses, bandits and Fae for the last four days or so. I am not going anywhere until I have some sleep, food and a bath. Maybe not in that order.”
“We are going right now. I’ll hunt if you want and you can bathe in the river along the way. End of discussion.” He started to head back to the main road.
“Forget it. The only place I’m going to at the moment, is Canneroc. Hot meal, hot bath and sleep in an actual bed. This is not up for negotiation.”
He turned around to find her still standing in the clearing with her arms crossed as she stared back at him. He breathed slowly through his nose, trying to quell down the sudden flash of annoyance. Why was she making this so difficult? “Sagrell, we are expected, and we are leaving. Now.” he repeated as he walked toward her.
“No.” She still didn’t move.
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“No!”
“Sagrell…”
“I said; no.”
He was standing so close she was forced to tilt her head back to look at him. They stared at each other for a long time. “I will carry you there if I have to,” Abelas said at last.
“You wouldn’t dare!”
“I wouldn’t be happy, but I will if I’m forced to do it.”
Sagrell frowned and chewed her bottom lip as she mulled over what he just said. “You can try,” she said after a moment, “but you won’t get out of this unscathed.”
Fortunately, the ground shook at that very moment, preventing either of them to put threats in motion. “Watch out!” Sagrell shouted, pushing Abelas out of the way, as a crudok jumped out of the hole it had just dug.
“Dypynhylg.” She swore softly as she pulled her sword out of its scabbard and readied her shield. Her daggers would not be enough against such a foe. Abelas stared at it. It was the first time he saw such a beast, outside his books. It was also much bigger than he expected[C1] . He took out his hammer, not sure if magic could harm it. He just couldn’t remember what he had read. “Be careful. That thing is fast,” Sagrell said, moving slowly to the left. “If we circle it, we might have a chance.”
“Is it vulnerable to magic?”
“Not to my knowledge but, if you can, try to stun it.”
“Fenedhis…” He had not studied elemental magic. They would have to kill the beast with their weapons alone.
The crudok kept an eye on them as they moved around to surround it, its scorpion-like tail whipping whenever they tried to step closer to land a blow. Sagrell had been right; it was moving quite fast, its four powerful legs kept the beast out of harm’s way while it strike at them with his upper arms. The claws at the end of its paws were particularly vicious, as Abelas noted, when one of the blows landed on his chest, causing a dent in his armor. Luckily, there were two of them. Sagrell jumped on the creature’s back and dug on dagger blade between the armored plates on his back. The crudok roared and stood on rear legs, arching his back as its organic-like mask pulled back to reveal the gaping, fanged maw and the glowing, crazed eyes underneath. The beast lurched violently and managed to shake the Alfar off its back.
Sagrell broke down the fall with a roll but Abelas could see she was a bit shaken as she stood up. He slowly moved behind the creature, hoping to strike. The crudok growled, its mask still pulled back and she banged her sword on her shield in a clear act of defiance. “Ahjuera acbèle ta clunbeuh tékéhèné! Aceyoa t’éjedan m’bnulryeh!” The beast roared again, as if goaded by whatever Sagrell shouted at it. It happened in a flash. He couldn’t block the beast’s next attack in time.
Abelas felt more than he saw. The dart of the scorpion tail dug into the hole the claws had made. He could feel the poison dripping from it, corroding the armor’s metal and the padding underneath, before he felt it burrowing into the flesh of his shoulder. His arm just hung, limp from the poison coursing through his veins. The crudok used its tail to lift him slowly and soon, Abelas found himself staring helplessly at the inside of the beast’s maw. He could see the drool drip from the fangs as the creature almost purred. That purr turned into a sharp yelp as a rock hit the side of its head. They both turned to see Sagrell readying a rock for another throw.
“That’s right, cyma vemc ta bida! Let’s dance!” The next rock hit the beast squarely on the forehead.
The crudok retaliated by spitting a long spray of fuming toxic, probably poison, at her. She had no choice but to bring her shield up to protect her face. It then whipped out its tail to throw Abelas to the other end of the clearing, before leaping at her, arms wide and claws ready.
Abelas tried to roll to cushion his fall, tried not to wince when his head knocked back sharply against some tree root, tried to get on his knees to get the beast’s attention. But he couldn’t do any of this. He could only lie there as the poison ate his flesh away. “Abelas!” He dimly heard Sagrell’s last shout, his eyes closing as his body went into shock.
The next moment, Sagrell was standing above him, slapping him. Hard. “Come on! Wake up you…” The rest was lost in gibberish alfarian. Abelas grunted as he thought he would have enjoyed some more rest. Sagrells’s relieved laugh caught his attention however and he tried to open his eyes to show he was okay. “Don’t… Don’t move.” She pulled a small knife out from her belt and proceeded to saw off the straps holding his chest plate in place. He tried to grab her wrist but she simply pushed his hands away. He didn’t struggle; he was too weak to fight. His head rolled on the side and he frowned. He could see the crudok lying on its back. Dead. Split in the middle along its length.
“Abelas. Focus on me. Focus on my voice,” Sagrell said, grabbing his chin to turn his head toward her. She had managed to take the chest plate off and had pushed the cloak and padded shirt around, enough to press some kind of poultice against his wound. “Come on.” she said, helping him to sit up. She quickly wrapped some bandages around his chest before throwing his arm across her shoulders. “We have to go back to Canneroc. Hopefully, Syllareta will know what to do.”
************
Translation:
Dypynhylg - Alfarian swear word
Ahjuera acbèle ta clunbeuh tékéhèné! Aceyoa t’éjedan m’bnulryeh - That’s right you messed up scorpio wannabe! Try and dodge this one!
