Copper's Corner

[Copper]

So, yeah. Been a while since I've written much of anything lately and over the past week, I literally had a story pouring from my brain to the point of causing me sleep deprivation. What started out as a story kernel turned into a 38-page collosus. I worked for a long time on this and while I'm usually very protective of my work, I have shared it in the past with you guys and you've been pretty receptive, despite the subject matter. For those of you just joining us, Copper tends to write YAOI themed stories. My opinion is, if you do not like it, do not read it. You have a choice. There is a "mark all read" button for those of you anal enough to want all the little 'new message' icons to go away so you don't have to venture in if you don't want to. For those of you that do take the time to read my stuff, I love praise and appreciate constructive criticism (and if you find a typo, please tell me. I hate them as much as you do, but I am only human.)

I'll babble here about the story first, so you don't have to go any further than this if you don't want to. It's a FF8 fanfic, done in first person, with Irvine Kinneas as the narrator. The story takes place in something of an 'alternate' ending to the game, in which the Magic Lamp was never given to the characters during the course of their adventures. The story has been rated 18+ for adult language, use of alcohol, not too overly graphic violence, male nudity, and non-consentual homosexual relations. I also leave out the chocobos. Sorry.

*deep breath* Anyway...hope you like.

[Copper]

Not All Guardians are Junctioned

It's funny how two things can seem like polar opposites and yet they fit together so well.

Take, for instance, Balamb Garden's resident sorceress and her knight-protector. If one saw the bubbly, out-going Rinoa, you'd likely never pair her with an introvert like Squall. Granted, Rinnie doesn't have half of Selphie's energy, but if you could run a Garden on attitude, we'd have an inexhaustible resource, let me tell you.

And then there were things that seemed so perfectly natural that you'd find yourself slapping your forehead if someone actually had to point them out to you.

Of course, my skin was saved the bruising, given that I figured right away what a perfect match the two of them were. It really wasn't that hard. I mean, take one flesh and blood embodiment of the term 'perpetual motion' and pair it up with the raw power of an unstoppable force of nature and that, my friends, is a thing of beauty.

There's always that split second, that fraction of an instant when the thunder fades, when everything is still, even him. In the time it takes your eyes to adjust from the light show that had been dancing in front of it, he's off again, a twisting, whirling vision of blue, red, and gold that seems to have just gotten a recharge from the electricity in the air.

Quezacotl and Zell Dincht. If there wasn't a more perfect match out there, I didn't know where to find it.

Okay, that was something of a lie. For as long as I can remember, which is more than some, Squall's had Shiva, the arctic mistress. Cool and with that aloof, untouchable aura, it makes me wonder sometimes where she ends and he begins.

Or Selphie. Our bubbly little protector. You can almost see the same expression in Carbuncle's eyes. And then there's Seifer and Ifrit. There's a match for you. Both hot-headed and stubborn. Can't say as I'm upset with the notion of passing him along. We had our moments, but we never really clicked. Maybe it was just cause the others "grew up" with them and I didn't, but I've yet to find a G.F. that's worked well with me.

Currently, I'm seeing how Bahamut and I can get along. I gotta admit, I appreciate Squall's trust with this one. The dragon is nothing but power, pure and simple. I guess he figures I'd know best how to handle a force like that. It's still strange, though, feeling him nestled there, in the back of my head. He's at least been considerate enough to make his space amid things I'd just as soon forget, which is a bit of a blessing. I don't think he's too amused with me blaming him whenever I misplace my gun oil, though.

But, I'm getting distracted. Thinking about the G.F.'s when I should be thinking about my other distraction, the sole reason my butt's in the Training Center this early in the morning: Zell.

Again, I swear, if we could bottle this boy's energy, I'd make a killing. No one should be capable of that much action before breakfast was served. Thinking on it, I wondered if Quetz had anything to do with that. You can't share your brain with something primal like that and not feel it. Hyne knows, that boy gets going, I mean, really going, he f'ing glows.

"Irvine!"

"What? Yeah, coming! I'll be right--" It took half a second for me to register that he's standing right in front of me. "There."

"You know, zoning out in here is a real good way to become 'Rex food right?" Arms crossed, foot tapping, the corner of his mouth quirked up in a perturbed expression.

Raising Exeter, I pointed it well over our heads, off into the distance. "I'd just give it heartburn."

"If it didn't just chew you up and spit you out."

"You sayin' I'm not good enough for one?"

"Maybe." His lips tip up into a grin and he spins, heading along the trail again. "C'mon. Squall wants the grats weeded down before first class today."

Slinging the rifle against my shoulder, I followed at a more leisurely pace. "And why did you pick me to do this with you?"

"Figured you needed the exercise, Cowboy." He flashed me a devil's grin over his shoulder.

"Don't need it. Just a good eye," I swung my weapon out, extending my arm to a full reach, "and a steady arm." I squeezed the trigger.

The dying rumble around us almost covered the sound of something solid hitting the earth. I'd caught sight of a raldo shuffling through the trees. Those things are all shell, but I hit it in a spot that dropped it. Through underbrush. At a distance.

Exercise, my lily white--

"Crap. Now you did it." Zell immediately took a fighting stance.

"What did I--?"

Seeming to uncoil from itself from the ground, a T-rexaur growled as it pushed itself to its feet. It must have been sleeping nearby.

And I woke it up.

Fumbling inside my pockets, I hurried to reload while Zell kept himself between me and it. I was about to holler for him to get clear when I realized he hadn't started attacking the thing.

Yet.

A darkness seemed to creep in around us, circling the area, leaving nothing in view but the Rex, me, and...

Zell stood before the thing, one hand stretched out toward the ground. An inky well seemed to be forming at his feet and I could hear the sound of hundreds of wings fluttering overhead. The darkness came together in a ball, shattering to reveal a red-skinned, bone-clad, winged demon that uncurled itself. Extending its hand upward, it seemed to draw on the blackness surrounding us before sending it crashing down to envelop the beast before us. Eldritch lights seemed to shine from inside the globe. As soon as it shattered, so did the creature, hundreds of bats flying away as it did so.

"Irvine! Light it up!" Zell dove out of the way and I didn't need any further hesitation. Raising my gun, I unloaded into the 'Rex, one at the chest, one at the head. Blood streaming into its eyes, it snarled and lashed out, much, much too slow to try and catch Zell, who was already dancing around it, punching into its underbelly and landing hard kicks into its legs.

"Clear!" I shouted as soon as I had a shot again. Zell dropped low and the shots went high, shattering teeth and ripping away more flesh as they connected.

It was too much. With a groan, the beast toppled over. Soon enough, the carcass would be taken care of by the rest of the critters in here, not to mention it's none-to-picky fellows that liked their meat fresh.

"Not exactly how I wanted to spend the morning, but it'll do." Zell was currently wiping gore from his gloves onto his jacket. He treated he leather on his hands better than the rest of his clothes.

"What the hell was that?" I stalked up to him.

"Pardon?" He looked at me, blue eyes blinking in confusion.

"That...that thing!"

"The 'Rex? Irvine are you feeling--"

"Not the T-Rexaur. That...Guardian. What was that?" I'd never seen something so pitch-soul black in my life...and I'd stood with Squall against Seifer, Ultimecia, and I'd had Ifrit in my head the whole time.

"You mean Diablos?" Zell shrugged casually. "He's a G.F. Squall recently acquired when we were restructuring. Apparently our former Headmaster tried to pass him along but never go the chance."

"I have never seen anything like...him. Ever. Is this the first time you've used him?"

"One of the few. Diablos is a little more in the teaching capacity as a G.F. rather than combat oriented. He tends to weaken monsters more often than out-and-out killing them."

"Why? He sympathize with 'em or something?" I don't know why, but something about that particular Guardian rubbed me the wrong way and the fact that Zell had it only chapped things more.

"It's the nature of his power. Darkness saps your strength, but it can't kill you. Not unless you let it."

"And you said he can...teach you things?" I could feel my eyes narrowing. "What kind of things?"

"Yeah. He's pretty useful in that regard." Zell gave me a pat on the side and turned and walked away. "So, we gonna get to killing grats or what?"

I couldn't believe the casual turn of conversation, not to mention how he avoided the question. "Yeah, yeah. Just let me...Hey!"

"Something wrong?" He turned around, hands clasped behind his back, rocking on his feet.

"My ammo! It's..." I started looking around on the ground. There was no way in hell I could have dropped it. I would have known if a good chunk of the stuff fell out of my pocket.

"You mean this?" Zell held out a hand, cupped upward. Sitting in his palm was a good sized serving of shells.

"How did you do that?" I hadn't even felt his hand on me. Wait, the pat. Did he...? How did...?

"I told you. Diablos has a few useful tricks up his sleeves."

"Thievery bein' one of them?" I scooped the shells out of his hand, the words coming out a lot harsher than I would have liked. Wait, no, not nearly harsh enough.

"You never know what you can get ahold of in the middle of a fight," was Zell's reply. "You just have to have the fast reflexes and eye enough to grab it. And since my fighting style requires me to lay hands on opponents anyway..."

"Natural choice," I muttered.

Zell tapped his nose and pointed at me. Yeah, there were times I wished I wasn't so bright.

"You were the one that chose to take him?"

"Yeah." Zell started walking again. "Like I said, he and I seemed to click right from the get-go. It was like Squall and Shiva. Something about your personality sometimes speaks to the Guardians and they take a shine to you. I think that's why Ifrit never liked you. You were too laid back."

"Yeah, well, what part of you did Diablos like?" It was hard to imagine Zell having anything in common with that...that...thing.

"Can't rightly say. Maybe he thought I'd just be a better student than the others. And speaking of students..."

"Yeah, I know. Can't have the grats eat them. No matter how much Seifer wants them to."

He laughed and took off once again. My own mirth was forced and I had to will myself to move. We did have a job to do after all. Still, for the rest of the morning, I found myself trying hard to stay out of Zell's shadow.

*

"What's eating you, Irvy?" Selphie slid into the chair beside me in the cafeteria, setting her full tray down next to my own, equally as full. I'd already been here a good half-an-hour and still barely touched my food.

"Nothin', really. Thinking about things." I started pushing lettuce around with my fork.

"Can't be girl trouble. You usually open right up about that." She planted her cheek on her fist and stared at me. "You're not hurt, are you?"

"Hyne, no. I keep telling Squall it's a waste of ammo to send me in on those cleaning missions. I'd sooner beat the things to death with my gun than spend the shells on them."

"Maybe you ought to talk to Zell. He could teach you--" Something in my eyes must have given it away. She stopped talking. Selphie never stopped talking, not even in her sleep, not even during-- "Did you and Zell have a fight?"

"No." I shook my head. It was the truth. Zell and I hadn't fought about Diablos. I just made it mighty clear to him that I didn't like the thing and he'd made it mighty clear that he thought it was just my natural distrust of all things Guardian Force. At least we were professional enough to get the job done without one of us storming off in a huff, at least not until we left the facilities.

"Oh, cuz Raijin said that he saw him earlier and he looked in a pretty sour mood and we knew the two of you were doing clean-up and--"

"We had a disagreement," I acquiesced. "I just found out about Diablos."

Selphie looked at me like I'd asked her if Squall used a gunblade. "What about him?"

"I don't like it."

"Irvine, you don't like any Guardian Forces. You've been through five of them already. I'm surprised Bahamut's lasted as long as he has."

"This is different. There's a big difference between my not liking something in my head eating away at my memories and that...thing...corrupting Zell."

Selphie's laugh got the attention of the nearby tables. She quickly hid her mouth behind her hand in an attempt to stifle herself but it really wasn't working. "Irvy, you can't get corrupted by a G.F. If you can't control it, you pass it on to someone that can. And if Zell can't control Diablos, there probably isn't anyone who can."

Something cold knotted in my stomach. "He hasn't had him very long. How can you be so sure about all this?"

"Because I trust Zell. He knows how to handle G.F.'s If Squall didn't think he could do it, he wouldn't have offered it to him."

"How did something like...that...go unnoticed for so long?"

"Well, you know how G.F.s can sometimes be fixed in places? I guess that was his case. Something about a lamp or something. And the dumb thing was apparently buried in one of Headmaster Cramer's rooms.

"Maybe it should'a stayed that way."

Pushing my tray away, I got up and hurried out. The other G.F.'s, they all had a natural feeling to them, even Eden, a sentient weapon. Hyne, even Doomtrain felt more right than Diablos. It had a purpose. I needed answers and I needed them now.

*
"Irvine. Not often I see you darkening my door." Quistis stepped into the computer lab as the door slid shut behind her. "I thought you knew it all already."

"Apparently I don't know enough." I skimmed through a few more logs, looking at pictures and getting nowhere in a big hurry.

"What's got you all worked up?"

"Trying to find out about a new G.F."

"A new one? Did they find--"

"New to me. Zell had one today I hadn't ever seen any of us use before. Thought I'd brush up."

She pushed her glasses up to the bridge of her nose. "All right. Well, class isn't for another twenty minutes yet. Will it bother you if I get things set up."

I waved her off, poking around further in the files. The less I found, the less I liked. They say ignorance is bliss. I say ignorance can kill.

"Who are you researching?" Someone was obviously done setting up.

I really didn't want a repeat of the situation with Selphie. "Tonberry," I lied.

"Zell had Tonberry? I thought he hated Tonberry. Besides, what was he doing using him in the Training Center?"

"Rexaur."

She made a noise. That one word explained a lot, especially when you were talking trouble and the Training Center. Thankfully, it also shut her up. Or so I thought.

"What did you want to know about him? Selphie used...wait, no. Selphie has him right now. How did Zell get him? Especially for this morning?"

I sighed, looking over at her. She was leaning against one of the desks. Sharp as the whip by her side and with a personality that could cut just as deep into your skin. Still, Quistis was one of the best listeners I knew. Maybe...

"You promise not to laugh at me?"

She blinked behind her lenses. "Irvine, when have I ever laughed at you when you didn't deserve it?"

Fair enough. "I saw Zell use Diablos for the first time today. I don't like it, Quistis. Zell and Selphie have been saying it's just 'cause I don't like 'em to begin with, but there's something not natural 'bout that demon."

I could tell by her look, the tight line of her lips, she at least had some passing understanding of what the thing was. Made sense. You couldn't be an instructor and be out of the loop on things. "You just said it yourself. It's a demon. They're not, by any stretch of the imagination, natural. Why did Zell call on him?"

"My own stupid fault. I woke up a Rexaur."

"But why did Zell call Diablos? Why didn't he call Quezacotl?"

That thought hadn't crossed my mind. Sure, he'd just used her a little bit ago, but she was always there for him, like a second skin. There's times I swore he brought her out without even having to think about it. She just knew when to help him.

My mouth opened, then closed. I shook my head. "Damned if I know. I know he wasn't showing off. It's me. I know there's no need for it. I'm a helluva lot more impressed by his moves than by something like that."

A smile pulled at the corner of her lips but whatever she was thinking, it stayed in her head. "And if I know you and I know Zell, talking to him about this isn't going to help."

"What was your first clue?"

"You're not talking to Zell." She crossed her arms. "Do you want me to try?"

"No. He'll just think I'm trying to rally all of you guys to my side, away from him. You know how he gets."

"Yes, I do. All right. I'll leave you to puzzle through this on your own, but if you need help, you know we're here for you."

Out of habit, I tipped my hat to her. "Appreciate it, Quistis." There was still a little more time for me to dig around. I was going to try and get some more research in when the door opened.

"Hey, babe. Where do you want this model put?" Seifer carefully maneuvered himself into the room, laden down with a nested replica of a Bomb in several stages of attack. By the endearment, I knew he wasn't talking to me.

"The desk, thanks."

I peeked up from behind the terminal. Though Quistis was acutely aware of my presence, Seifer was oblivious. I caught him trying to get her to give him a kiss after he freed himself from his burden, leaning in, smiling at her, a puzzled look coming over his features when she deftly slipped away from him. He gently caught her arm.

"Quisty?"

I bit my lip and sank down lower, praying to Hyne he wouldn't notice me. I was a dead man if he did and Quistis knew it, too. She 'let' herself get caught by him, sliding very easily into his arms and turning him so that his back was to the door.

Moving with all the grace I possessed, I slid out from the chair and took the long way around the room. Glancing over at the two of them, I needn't have bothered with stealth at that point. One of Seifer's hands was 'gentlemanly' resting on her backside, protecting it from the edge of the desk. The other was up, fingertips just barely combing through her hair so as not to upset her bun. Quistis' arms were wrapped around Seifer's back, under his trench coat, and from the sounds she was letting out into that kiss, there was no acting happening on her part. Part of me regretted not being able to see the look on his face when he heard the door slide open, but I knew I needed to get out fast, before he registered that it had been the interior sensors that had gone off.

Okay, that one deserved a smack on the forehead. Still, part of me couldn't help but feel happy for the two of them. Sure, they'd butted heads in the past, but both of them had gone through a lot and that they could find each other after everything gave me proof that there was hope for the world yet. Of course, if Seifer hurt Quistis, there'd be a line outside his door of people waiting to kill him and likely a brawl or two to see who got to go first.

*

When personal research eventually turned up a whole lot of nothing, I decided it was time to buck up and try the route that I'd been hoping to avoid.

"Not often you come to visit, Cowboy. What's up?" Squall, buried behind the mountain of paperwork that was now standard issue for his job, pushed about half of it aside so he could look at me from across his desk.

Quiet as he was, the role of leader suited him. You didn't have to say a lot to let people know what you were thinking, although his spending more and more time with Rinoa had him smiling a lot more than before.

"Well, you said that if we had any concerns regarding, well, anything, that we could come to you. So, here I am." I spread my hands out in an encompassing gesture, moving to take the chair he offered with a tip of his head.

"I did. So, what's on your mind?"

"Firstly, I have a feeling I know where your thoughts are going to go with this, but this is not my being paranoid or distrustful." I couldn't help it. The 'teaching finger' came out and I'd slipped into lecture mode. My students knew I could be pretty easy-going, but when that pose came out, I was all business. "I think there was a reason Cid kept that lamp away from us and I want you to put Diablos back in it."

For a guy that didn't say a lot, Squall sure could be expressive with his features. The arch of his brow ran the gambit from curious to interested to amused. "And why do you think that?"

"Gut instinct isn't going to be a good enough answer for you, is it?" He shook his head and I slumped a little in the chair. That would've been too easy. "That's all I got at the moment, Squall, but I hope you at least consider it. I know I'm the first one to talk about weaning us off the G.F.s but this just feels different. I don't think that thing's supposed to be loose. There's something wrong with it."

"I appreciate the concern, Irvine. Though I don't know why you'd think that about it. Guardians are like magic. There is no 'good' or 'evil' when it comes to them. It's all in how you choose to use their power."

I shook my head. "Magic doesn't think for itself, Squall. One of the first things that you tried to impress upon me, to get me to understand them more, was that they were living, breathing, thinking entities. You're not sharing your brain with a knot of energy, you're sharing it with another person, with their own wants, needs, and desires. So how can you tell me there isn't the capacity for good and evil in 'em, too?"

"Well, they are called 'Guardian' Forces for a reason, Irvine. They're there to help us, protect us, and along that line, help and protect others as well. There hasn't yet been a documented case of one of them being, well, I suppose you could say, rogue, in this instance. Granted, there are unattached ones out there, but they're simply like the others. They don't actively seek to follow an evil path, to use your analogy."

"What if it's just because they can't? Even as powerful as they are, a G.F. has got to be tethered to something. A place, a person, a thing. I think that's what keeps them in check and when you take away that tether, it gives them a little bit more freedom."

"Diablos isn't running free, Irvine. He's junctioned to Zell."

"And he's sitting there, in his head, whispering things to him," I muttered.

"They all do that. It's how we learn from them. Bahamut not talking to you?" He arched a brow in amusement again. Wouldn't be the first time.

"No, he's there." I absently rubbed the back of my head. "We...talk." Moreso, I just listened. Something that old had a lot to say. "I just can't imagine anything that dark having anything worth sharing."

Squall let out a little sigh and I could tell it was my turn for a lecture. I did my best to try and keep an open mind. He did have a lot more experience with this than I did. "Not everything can be bright and shiny and pretty, Irvine. Diablos may seem dark, but from what I've seen, he's capable of doing more good than harm. His attacks incapacitate rather than kill. They allow us to gain resources without resulting in bloodshed." He must have been talking about the 'laying on' trick Zell pulled. "Zell's also well trained with Guardians. I've never seen a better rapport than between him and Quezacotl." He's obviously never looked in the frost-covered mirror. "If anyone can come to an understanding with Diablos, I think it's him."

I crossed my arms at my chest, hunched a little. "Your the leader. I gotta listen to you."

"While that is true, I don't want you to think that I'm not listening to you, either. I said 'gut instinct' wasn't enough to pull the two of them apart, but it is enough to get my attention. We didn't live as long as we did by not relying on our instincts sometimes. Then again, we also stand to lose a valuable asset if we don't take a chance now and again." He didn't need to explain that one. Lots of people hadn't been too happy to see Seifer striding these halls again, but Squall had taken him in. He gave me what I took as a reassuring smile. "I'll be sure to keep tabs on the two of them, though. Don't worry."

It seemed the best I could ask for at the moment. "Appreciate it."

He nodded and I took my leave. There was one last thing that I wanted to do before I'd either make peace or, Hyne help us, be proven right.

[Copper]

*

"You know we're not allowed to use G.F.'s during a training session." Zell crossed his arms, looking at me as though I were a green cadet, freshly planted, as we said.

"C'mon, Zell. You're the one that's always telling me that I need to understand them more. How can I," did I really want to play this card? "How can I trust you about Diablos if I don't understand how he works?"

"I could just share him with you. Let you experience him first-hand."

"No! I mean, no. You know how I feel about them. He probably wouldn't even go. Probably knows I don't like him." Okay, so that was the lamest excuse I'd ever given, but the scary thing was, it looked like it was working.

Zell stood there, eyes roaming over me from top to bottom, like he was eyeing up the best place to land a punch that'd drop me like a spent shell. All the while, he had this look on his face like he were listening to something that only he could hear. I really didn't want to know what that was, though I had a pretty good idea.

"Just remember, you asked for this."

He stepped back, two fingers raising to his forehead for a heartbeat before they stretched out toward the ground. The sun above us and the field nearby went away. They seemed like they simply weren't there any more. Tunnel vision of the worst kind. The ground beneath his feet rippled with black water and I could hear the bats now, squeaking as they converged above. Zell seemed to sink into the depths as Diablos rose upward, that permanent grin on its face from the skull mask that it wore. Staring at it, I at least hoped it was a mask. He hovered there for a moment, his wings creating a breeze that snapped my coat around my ankles and had me pressing my hat against my head. Extending a hand upward, I watched as the darkness coalesced into a sphere and though it seemed to be pulling it in from around us, still no light filtered through.

I had to fight every instinct in me not to run, especially not as the orb came crashing down toward me. I'd been slammed into by every sort of magic you can imagine, so needless to say, I was a little surprised when it didn't hurt. I'd expected something solid. Instead, I found myself standing in a space no darker than a blackout. I had a second before the panic really started to creep in, especially watching as arcane symbols started to seem to etch themselves along the 'walls.' Leylines criss-crossed beneath my feet, connecting the symbols to one another, causing them to start to glow. From all around, cutting lines of energy shot out and started to slam into me, the force enough to knock me off my feet, though I didn't fall. It almost seemed like the beams themselves were holding me up, like there was a hand gripped around me and I were just a doll of some sort.

Tightness in my chest...I couldn't breathe...not until it felt as though another hand wrenched something out of me, pulling a scream from my lips and throwing me to the ground. In the back of my mind, I could hear something roaring. Bahamut. He wanted out. Wanted to rip to shreds this force that dare to hurt me, to reduce it to the very dust that formed it so long ago.

No! The cry was as much a warning for him as it was a protest from me. I could feel the darkness melting, giving way to a sky I couldn't focus on. Even doubled over as I was, I couldn't tell which way was up. Not until I saw a pair of black shoes in front of my eyes.

"You satisfied now?" He didn't ask if I was all right. He didn't check. He didn't offer to heal me.

Rolling onto my back, I tried hard to blink Zell into focus. The light was too bright. Pinching my eyes shut with a groan, I could only nod. Over the sound of my own breathing, I could hear the crunch of his feet against the ground as he walked away.

My mind tried hard to process what had just happened. I'd been hurt. Not burned, frozen, slammed, bashed, stabbed or shot, but hurt. Something in Diablos' attack had reached down inside of me and rent at my very soul. It wasn't strong enough to kill me, but it left me drained, weak both inside and out.

I will kill this thing that dares to attack us.

"Bahamut?" I'd never had one of the G.F.s speak to me in a partner capacity.

Even I felt those wounds. None have dared attack me thus for countless years. For that, it must pay.

"No." I wasn't sure if I said the word or only thought it. "You can't. Not without hurting Zell."

The vessel cares not for you.

"That's...that's not true. Zell is a friend. He's only acting like that because of...of Diablos."

Diablos. I know that name. It is the one that has been distressing you as of late.

"Yes. I worry that he's going to hurt my friend."

You would do well to see that your friend is separated from him. Soon.

"That's the plan, old man," I muttered.

Slowly picking myself up, I dusted off the back of my coat as best I could and then began to limp my way back to the Garden. I had class in an hour and it wouldn't look good if the instructor showed up in the same state he was trying to teach them to avoid.

*

Zell had always been one of those types that, behind his bouncy exterior, was really pretty shy at heart. Growing up with his mom and a dad that was always away had done that to him, I think. Once he opened up to you, though, you were in it until the end.

That's why it surprised me to see him hanging out at my favorite watering hole. He'd always been the one carrying my ass back to the dorms after a night like tonight. Not to say he didn't knock a few back now and again, but there he was, in an honest-to-goodness drinking contest. And from the look of the glasses, he'd been at it for a while.

As I moved up for a closer look, someone a little too big for his britches decided to try and keep me away, hitting me up for a bet if I wanted to watch. Another thing I'd picked up as an instructor was the 'wither stare,' as Quistis called it. She had one, too. That look you gave unruly students that had them tucking tails between their legs and slinking off, all without you needing to say one word about how what they were doing was wrong.

"You out to make a name for yourself?" I pulled over an unoccupied chair and planted myself to Zell's left. After my little show, no one questioned my right to be there.

"Succeeding." He wiped his lips with the back of his hand, motioning for the surrogate bartender to fill the next two glasses for him and his opponent. Looked like it was whiskey, but from the state of the table, they'd also gone through several beers first.

I looked at the guy across from him and saw that the kid was starting to show his buzz. Still not gone enough that he wouldn't be able to walk away (with help), but definitely two-and-a-half sheets in. Zell, on the other hand, looked like he was drinking water. Either he had a higher tolerance than I thought or...

There it was. As he tipped the glass back, there was a faint glow on his fingertips. He made sure his thumb came in contact with his lower lip. Alcohol was a poison, after all, and Esuna took care of that quick as a blink.

Problem was, Zell wasn't even trying to hide his sobriety. Usually when you cheated at a drinking contest, you let your opponent at least think you're getting smashed along with him. Zell was just reveling in his superiority. The glass got filled again but before he could raise it, I reached out, putting a hand over his wrist. He looked over at me with narrowed eyes and I just shook my head a little.

"Who's this guy, Zell? Your babysitter?" one of the guys chuckled.

"The way he's acting, it seems more like his wife!" That got the group of them going and boy did they have some colorful descriptions as to my role in the relationship. Must've been the hair.

Zell jerked himself free and slammed back the contents of his glass. Clinking it hard back to the table, he glared at me. "If you're not going to bet, leave," he hissed.

Fine. If that was the way he wanted to play it... "I don't bet on cheaters." I gave him an self-satisfied smirk and pushed myself to my feet. Of course, that one little word had all of his "friends" clamoring for an explanation. Adjusting my coat, I tucked my hat back onto my head and showed myself to the door. Let him clean up his own mess.

I was about halfway back to the Garden, wanting nothing more than to curl up and put the day behind me when there was the soft buzz of my phone ringing. Pulling it out and open, I found Squall's voice on the other line.

"Irvine, where are you?"

"Nearly home. Why?"

There was a sigh on the other end of the line. "I need you to go to back to Balamb for me."

"Any particular reason why?"

"Do you have enough on you for bail money?"

I couldn't help it. I started laughing. "What'd you do? Finally break down and moon somebody?"

There wasn't any laughter on the other end. I could just see the pinch of his fingers, right on the bridge of his nose and under that scar. "Zell got arrested for starting a fight and then resisting arrest."

"How many people did he put in the hospital first?"

"Thr--How did you know?"

"It's Zell. He doesn't leave his weapons at the door like us."

"Point taken. Three. Two civilians and one officer."

"Let him stew." My voice came out flatter than a piece of paper.

"What?"

"He got in a brawl by cheating at a drinking game. I know. I called him on it. And if he's gotten stupid drunk enough to throw a punch at an officer of the local law, then he can sleep in a jail cell for the night."

"Irvine, will you please just go get him?"

"I'm more than halfway home, Squall." Maybe whining would help. "I really don't wanna go back. He's gonna be in a pissy mood and I'm the cause."

"Maybe he'll be grateful that you're bailing him out." Obviously not.

I bit back the retort that formed immediately after that sentence. If I didn't show up at the Garden with Zell in tow, I might as well just sleep in the car. There was no way Squall was going to let me in. "Fine. I'll be back later than anticipated, then."

Snapping the phone shut, I maneuvered the car back in the direction of the city. When I was about ten minutes away from it, I caught sight of something on the side of the road and pulled over.

"Zell?" I got out, standing behind the door and watched him walk toward me. "How did you--?"

"I grew up here, remember? I just spun a good yarn for the chief and he let me go. Apologized, offered to Cure the damage I'd done. Slap on the wrist and they let me go."

I shook my head. So much for the punishment fitting the crime. Wait, he'd cheated and gotten out by cheating. Perfect. "Squall sent me to pick you up. Get in." I slid back into the driver's seat, slamming the door behind me.

"Well, that was mighty nice of him." The smile that he flashed me wasn't friendly in the least. Somehow the thought of being stuck in the car with him, even for just this short of a drive, didn't set right with me.

He was quiet all the way back, but I could tell he was watching me. His arms were crossed at his chest, head bowed a little, but every now and then, I'd feel the creep of his stare in my direction. I couldn't pull into the parking garage fast enough, though I shouldn't have been so elated to have been back home.

His hand shot out and grabbed me by my pony-tail, jerking my head back and making me let out a little squawk. The grip was so tight, I could only turn my eyes to him, any other movement of my head wasn't happening. I could see his eyes gleaming in the faint light of the garage, the reflection giving them a bit of a glow. As he spoke, it was almost as though he chose words to purposely let me see his defined incisors.

"If you ever fuck with me again like that, Kinneas, I swear to Hyne I will break things you didn't even know you had."

He released me with a shove into the door and quickly got out, slamming his own door behind him. Not that I was in any condition to follow him. Reaching up, I rubbed the back of my head where his grip had been. Though my breathing wasn't heavy, it, and my heartbeat, had definitely kicked up a notch. Zell had just threatened me. The shock of that thought started me trembling and after everything, I don't spook easy.

The phone rang several times before a sleepy female voice answered it. "M'ello?"

"Rinnie, lemme talk to Squall."

Muffled, "It's Irvine, baby," before a more masculine, "Yeah, what's up?"

"Zell and I are home."

"That's good." Squall sounded like he'd just gone to bed after he talked to me the first time.

"No, it's not. Squall, he--" If I told Squall, Squall would confront Zell, and Zell would know that I ratted on him. "He was little worse off than we thought," I lied. "Must've been one hell of a fight."

"Maybe his bruises will teach him not to do that again, then. You okay? You sound tired."

"I am. I'm about to roll into bed any second now." I put a forced cheer into my voice. "Tell Rinnie good night for me."

"Will do." The line went silent.

I rode the elevator up to the dorm area and stopped in the main hall. Passing one door in favor of another, I buzzed the intercom twice and then twice again until a pair of sleepy green eyes were staring up at me.

"Irvy?"

"Hey, Selphie," I murmured. "Mind if I crashed here tonight?"

She gave me a sweet smile and tugged on my hand, pulling me into the room. It'd been a long time since Selphie and I had been intimate with one another, but after that, we'd fallen into the kind of friendship where we thought nothing of just sleeping together, especially since it meant just that: sleeping. Shedding my boots, coat, and hat, I climbed under the covers after her, sliding up behind her as she slept on her side, and wrapped my arm around her waist. And for once, she was quiet. Didn't ask why I was here, didn't ask what was wrong. I felt her fingers slip between my own, the gentle squeeze of her hand. I laid a kiss on the back of her neck and let my eyes slip closed.

The darkness in him is growing. I can feel the other getting stronger.

What can I do? He won't give him up.

You must make him see the darkness within himself. Only then can he be lead to the light once more.

Bahamut's advice rolled through my mind all night, giving way to nightmares and a fitful rest. When I finally woke in the morning, I found Selphie staring at me. She reached out and brushed a finger down my cheek, trailing what I could feel was the line of one of the many tears I'd shed last night.

"Irvine?"

"It's okay, Selphie." I gathered up her hand, kissing and nibbling on her fingertips until she started to giggle. "Just a silly bad dream."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." For the first time, I felt like I wasn't lying when I told her that.

*

"Ugh, what a mess." If there was one thing I hated fighting more than T-Rexaurs, it was caterchipillars. Those webs! Ugh! And they got into everything. I'd have to spend at least two hours tonight cleaning out my gun.

At least the students had gotten a good laugh at my expense and I was proud to see that they were capable of taking down one of the things without my help. Still, that didn't make the walk back to Garden any better, not with everything sticking to me, my clothes, my hair...

Thankfully, hot water and a good lather tended to help them dissolve faster. Of course, peeling out of my clothes had been a challenge and they now lay in a wet heap outside the shower stall. They could be dealt with later. For now, I was doing my best to salvage my hair.

I've always been a sucker for a hot shower, too. One hand planted on the wall, I let the water simply rush down over me to rinse it off. Getting the grime off of me felt good, even if I was going to have to start scrubbing at those webs pretty soon.

With the water pounding around my ears, I didn't hear the footsteps behind me. In fact, I didn't realize that I wasn't alone until I felt a pair of hands slip around my chest, pulling me back against a rather muscular torso.

"Long time, no see, Cowboy."

The voice was more spoken into the nape of my neck than my ear. Zell wasn't quite tall enough for the whisper. He was, though, strong enough to hold my back against his chest and keep me from pulling away from him.

I sputtered out the water that I'd sucked in while gasping. "Zell, what are you--"

"Doing here? I came to see you. Isn't it obvious? We haven't talked in a long time."

I tried to turn to look at him over my shoulder but he had a decent grip on me. In truth, since the drunken business, I'd avoided him like the plague. I didn't want him to suspect me of plotting against him. "You don't have to get so close to talk."

I could feel him nuzzling into the hair that hung down my back. "But I like being close to you. Especially like this."

The feel of him doing that made me shiver, the water going a little cold under the flush that ran over my skin. Okay, I admit it. I'd liked Zell that way for some time now, but I'd never told him. I knew him well enough that if I'd approached him on the matter, it would have chased him away from me. So I'd just contented myself with watching him...and a good mess of long, often cold, showers. And while something like this would normally have had me thanking Hyne for my good fortune, there was something about him that didn't feel right.

"I'm flattered, Zell, really, but there's better ways to get my attention."

"I know." His hand slid over my chest and sharply pinched my nipple. I felt my legs buckle, but his other arm tightened, keeping me on my feet. Hyne help me, I whimpered, too. "You don't think I don't know what you like, Irvine? Your girlfriend's a little chatterbox if you start asking her the right questions." He tweaked me again.

Sweet Hyne, I had to remember how to breathe. "Zell, stop it." Him doing that was really starting to make me squirm, in a good way and a bad. My body wanted more of what he was doing and my mind kept telling me over and over that this was very, very wrong.

"How long have you wanted me?" He kept one hand at my chest and I could feel his other arm pressed against my stomach, fingers brushing at my side. Shaking my head obviously wasn't the answer that he wanted. I felt his short nails rake over my stomach, stopping at my navel. "How long, Irvine?"

Swallowing, I managed to find my voice. "Y-year. A year, maybe more." I'd been enchanted by him since we first met, even if he hadn't been happy to see me. Still, even then I figured it would have been one-sided and put my attention elsewhere, namely Selphie.

"How on earth did you stand it?" I could feel his hand creeping lower, wrapping around me but not doing anything more than that. "Being that close and not acting on it?" I was about to answer the question when I learned it was rhetorical. "That's right, you found yourself some little chickadees to fuck in the meantime." He jerked his hand back and I felt my legs buckle again. I couldn't reach out with my arms. He had them pinned. I was wholly dependent on him to support me.

"Did you imagine any of them were me, hmm?" He continued his ranting, that's all I could call it, his hand slowly starting to milk back and forth along me.

Stop it. Zell, please, this isn't you. Stop. Any time he felt me taking in a breath to speak, he'd pinch me, making the words get lost in an involuntary moan. All I could do was shake my head.

"Or did you find another guy, hmm? Someone that looked more like me? So, what was it, Irvine? Giving or taking, hmm?"

I was afraid to answer that question. There was a lot more to it than him...debasing my sex life. It was a challenge. A choice I knew where I was going to come out losing. I tried answering him, but couldn't make any sound come out of my mouth.

He let go of my chest, reaching around and jerking my head back by my hair. "What? You'd what?"

"S--" Could I really do this? Did I really have a choice? "Suck. I'd...suck you. Aaah!" He gripped me a little tighter and I swear I felt him twitching against my back.

He released me, his other hand on my shoulder, thumb digging into it to force my knees to buckle. He reached out and caught my wrist with his hand, barely keeping me from completely hitting the floor. "Do it."

I looked up at him as if he'd just asked me to stab him through the heart. This wasn't Zell here with me. It couldn't be. He'd never ask...demand...something like this. He jerked on my wrist, pulling me a little closer to him.

"Do it, Cowboy. You said you would."

"You'll," I licked my lips and swallowed, hard. "You'll want the wall." I reached out a tentative hand and urged him around the stall so that he could lean back. Thankfully, he followed.

"What a considerate little bitch." He smirked down at me, the fingers of one hand brushing along the hair at my scalp in a mockery of a caress.

Taking him in my hand, I guided him to my lips, glancing up once in the hopes that he'd somehow come to his senses and stop me. Instead, I felt the insistent push of him against the seam of my lips. Parting them, I swallowed him past the head, pulling back to the tip and then taking him in again, all the while letting my tongue slide around him.

Zell groaned and reached up, grabbing the top of the divider wall for support. His other hand released my wrist and slid around behind my head. He wasn't doing anything with that, yet, but I had a feeling it was only a matter of time.

I could feel him twitch every time I let out a soft groan around him. Not wanting to give him any ideas, I did my best to slowly, subtly start taking him in deeper, distracting him with the pleasure of it. Some sick part of me wanted to make this feel good for him. Even though he was the one that had forced me to my knees, I still wanted him to feel good.

And so I knelt there in front of him, the water pooling around my legs, cold from having been running so long, doing my best to drive him completely out of his mind in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, he'd regain his senses if I did. I just thanked Hyne for the cascading water that helped to hide my tears.

Zell twitched and I started to draw back some only to face what I'd been dreading. He slid his hand around the back of my head, holding me close to him, the thickness of him pooling near the back of my throat, forcing me to swallow him down. When he'd finally spent himself, he released me and I pulled back, letting him slide limply from between my lips, sagging back to sit on the floor and give my legs some relief.

He crouched down on the balls of his feet in front of me, reaching out to seize my arms in his hands. "Nice job." His voice had a hard edge to it. "You know, next time, I think I'm going to find out if you're a moaner or a screamer." He raked his eyes down my body and then back up. "And if you tell anyone about this," he leaned close and hissed in my ear, "it won't be you doing the screaming...Irvy." As he stood up, he pushed me roughly back down toward the floor.

I could hear his footsteps padding away across the tile. Sitting there, all of a sudden, his words sank in. Selphie! If I reported him to Squall, he'd go after her instead!

Everything from the past few moments caught up to me. I could feel my body twitch, my stomach rebelling at the sour feeling that was now settling in it. Twisting around to hands and knees, I retched until there was nothing left to wash down the drain. Sagging back against the wall, I held my head in my hands. What could I do? I knew I shouldn't let Zell blackmail me like this, but he'd gotten so damn good at lying! He'd weasel his way out of getting punished by Squall and then take it out on Selphie, just to punish me. I knew I couldn't let him do that, so what choice did I have?

Arms wrapped around my knees, face buried against them, I wept.

[Copper]

*

A rough hand pushed me into the wall and there was the solid crack of a fist connecting with the stone right beside my ear.

"You've been avoiding me again, Kinneas." Zell's eyes glared up at me, a feral smile pulling back his lips. "I'm really starting to get impatient with you."

Small wonder. There’d been other...incidents...since our time in the shower, each one a little more risky, and painful, than the last: the Training Center, my classroom, even the library and the dorm hall. Each one had left me more and more frightened of the knowledge that Zell was willing to do anything to get what he wanted, especially out of me.

Huffing out a breath, I put on my best card face. "Have I? Guess more and more's been slipping my mind lately."

The hand on my shoulder slid around to my throat, pinching just enough to make me struggle for air. "None of your jokes are going to save you this time. If you aren't in my room tonight, in my bed, I'm going to see to it that your favorite little chickadee gets the best night of her life."

"Leave Selphie alone," I managed to growl out.

"Oh, I will. As long as I have something else to keep me satisfied in the meantime." Zell cupped his free hand at my crotch and squeezed, leaning in at the same time to press a hard kiss against my lips. "Be there, Irvine, or, well, you'll know where to find me." He pushed away with a laugh, walking down the hall with a slight bounce in his step.

Dammit. Dammit. Dammit! Lately, I'd tried to be so careful, finding as many excuses as I was able to never be alone with him. I always had something that needed my attention, something that he knew I wouldn't be able to get out of. With break approaching, though, there was getting to be less and less to do. And now I was trapped. Again.

Why do you not tell Squall? Did he not give his word he would observe this one?

Zell's been the picture of perfect innocence whenever he's concerned. I'm the one he's chosen to abuse.

And you continue to let him. I do not understand.

Because he'll hurt Selphie if I don't.

Do you not think Squall can protect her as well? Without having to barter flesh and blood?

I'm afraid. The thought passed like a whisper. I'm afraid that even if Squall were to find some way to...to stop him, it wouldn't be enough. I don't want to see Zell hurt, but I'm afraid of Selphie getting hurt too.

You must find a way to cast light upon the darkness. Perhaps this is your chance.

Cast light upon the darkness. Bring things to light was more apt. Maybe...Maybe it was about time that I did. All my tricks had amounted to nothing but sleepless nights and skittery days. I couldn't handle this fight alone. Not anymore.

"Irvine. Hey, Irvine!"

I jumped, turning around and a little surprised to find Seifer, of all people, hailing me. "Yeah, what'cha need?"

He stopped, cocking his head to the side as he looked at me. "You feeling all right? You look beat."

"Long day."

"It's ten in the morning." He was starting to get a suspicious look in his eyes.

"Long night." I flashed him a grin and hoped my reputation would handle the rest.

He just shook his head. "Anyway, Quistis sent me to ask you if you wanted to go out with us tonight. There's a concert in Balamb and we've even managed to pull Squall away from his desk. What do you think?"

What did I think? I thought it was the perfect excuse. I could've kissed him, er, well, Quistis for the idea. "Sounds fantastic!" I hoped the mania I felt in my head didn't show through in my voice. "I'll bring Selphie and--"

"Oh, Quisty," he cleared his throat. "Quistis already asked her. I guess she's got an early training session with her class and is going to have to take a rain check. Hey, what's wrong?"

Obviously, my hopes getting dashed showed rather plainly on my face. Still, I had one more out available to me. "Guess I might have to take the other date then." I forced a smile. "Anybody asked Zell?"

For some reason, the blonde looked rather uncomfortable that I'd mentioned the other man and not, it seemed, in the capacity that I'd brought him up. "Zell's been really anti-social lately." He glanced around, dropping his voice. "It was kind of a 'If we don't see him, we won't go out of our way to mention it' kind of situation."

But it was still a chance for me to keep Zell away from Selphie and myself out of his bed. Lidding my eyes, I did my best to put on a humbled expression. "Oh. Do you...do you think it would bother the others if I brought him along with me?"

Seifer shrugged. "I guess not. Maybe keeping an eye on him will make Squall feel less guilty about leaving the Garden behind."

"Great. When are we leaving?"

"Concert starts at seven. We're gonna leave at five, grab some dinner and then camp out in the park."

"I'll be there with bells on." I turned and walked away from him, whistling happily at my good fortune.

Unfortunately, as soon as the suggestion passed my lips, I knew I was possibly in for a world of hurt. I'd decided to propose the idea to Zell while he was at lunch in the cafeteria. I figured the more witnesses that were around, the less likely I was to get beaten, molested, or both.

"A concert. Tonight. Isn't that just convenient." He looked at me with narrowed eyes.

"I thought it might be nice. It's been a while since we've done anything as a group."

"You sure this isn't just some excuse to get out of our little date, Irvine, hmm?"

"Hey, I wasn't the one that brought it up. I got asked and figured I'd pass the invitation on to you."

Zell started watching me the way a cat stared at a mouse, debating just when it was going to finish playing with it. "All right. You win. Concert it is." He stood straight up from his chair and I took a step back, body going rigid, especially as he stepped over to me. Pulling my shoulder down, he whispered in my ear with a laugh. "Be sure and wear something sexy." I felt a crack on my ass as he walked away.

The rush of blood pounding in my ears did little to drown out the buzz from the students around us. Still, I didn't care. I'd won myself, and Selphie, another round. And maybe, just maybe, with the others around, a measure of safety as well.

Evening came much too quickly for my liking. Still, I was determined to go through with this, the biggest reason currently sitting in the middle of my bed.

"Ugh! I'm so jealous!" Selphie grumbled for the twentieth time.

"I wish you could go too." For more reasons than you know. I was currently running a brush through my hair, tie in my teeth for when I was ready for it. "Blow off and come with us."

"I can't. You know how much sleep I need."

Twisting the leather cord around my bunched hair, I flashed her a wicked grin. "You seemed to do all right back in the day."

She flushed and threw a pillow at me. The intercom buzzed and before I could stop her, she hopped up to answer the door for me. "Wow, Zell. You look...wow."

I turned away from the dresser to take in the man leaning in the door. Zell was dressed in all black and red, the only light being his shock of blonde hair. He was clad in a pair of leather pants that left very little to the imagination, including his choice of underwear--or lack thereof. A red and black muscle shirt hugged the upper half of his body, the red fabric giving way to the dark mesh that both hid and accented his abs. Over that was a leather jacket, not the same style as Squall's, but with more of a loose feel to it. Black fingerless gloves, non-combat, and thick-soled boots finished everything off.

If he weren't such a bastard right now, I'd have said screw the concert, pinned him to the wall and made him forget his own name.

"Hey, Chickadee." He playfully ruffled Selphie's hair, casting me a look the whole time.

I grabbed my coat and hat from a peg near the door. "Ready to go?" I breezed past him.

"Bye, Irvy! Have fun!" I heard before the door hissed shut.

"Should I tell her you're planning on it?" Zell grinned. He didn't wait for me to answer. "Could've gone a little sexier but it'll do."

I was afraid to ignore his request but I didn't want the others raising eyebrows, so I'd settled on a pair of tight jeans and a sheer, sleeveless shirt, left untucked, that could be easily hidden by my coat, not that Zell would have let me do that anyway.

With Rinoa on Squall's lap, we managed one car. All the while heading there, I tried to get into their conversation but was too distracted by trying to keep Zell's hand out from between my thighs.

The same coldness settled in my stomach all through dinner. Whenever Zell rubbed his hand over my knee, I had to fight the urge not to jump. Looking over at him, I realized the thrill he was getting in watching me twitch.

The others carried on, oblivious to my discomfort, another thing Zell seemed to delight in. There was a look in his eyes, just daring me to speak up in some way. Swallowing the knot in my throat, I tried to ignore both him and them.

Hoping things would be better when we got to the park, I endured. Our group was early enough that we had our choice of spots.

Seifer spread out his trench for he and Quistis to sit on. Rinoa and Squall sat side by side, his jacket over her shoulders to keep her warm. Zell plopped onto the ground, legs spread, and patted the space between them, flashing me a grin.

I'd sooner walk naked into a pack of Cactuar but Hyne knew what he'd do if I refused. Gritting my teeth, I took the offered place. His hands seized my shoulders and pulled me back against him, already setting my hat beside us.

"Take this off." He played with the lapel of my coat.

"I'll get cold."

"I'll keep you warm." His whisper was hot against my ear but I still shivered.

"No." I held in a wince as I felt his hold tightening into my shoulder. "Not yet." I tried. He relaxed. I was safe. For now.

Once the music started, I wasn't so lucky. Zell didn't seem to want to wait any longer, sliding his hands over my shoulders, pulling the sleeves back and down, forcing me to slide my arms out or be pinned. Twisting around, I pulled it free, draping it in front of me like a blanket while Zell's fingers gently kneaded at my shoulders. I should have known he wouldn't be content with stopping there.

Three songs later, he pulled me back so I was leaning against him again. His one arm kept him propped up while the other slid over my shirt, pinching my nipple through the fabric. I gasped.

"Shh. Don't want to be disruptive, do we?" he murmured into my ear, doing it again.

"Stop it," I hissed.

"Something else, then?" He let his fingers drag down my stomach, under my coat.

"Zell, please."

He smirked, his hand moving lower still. "Please what?"

My eyes pinched shut, a faint groan sounding at his touch. "Stop."

He chuckled and I could feel him fumbling with the button at my waist. "No."

I started to get up, to move away, and his hand shot to my arm. "This was your idea. Now, you are going to sit here and behave yourself or we are leaving and I will find some other way to amuse myself.

I should have felt emboldened. Squall, Quistis, they were here. Seifer and Rinoa, too. I wasn't alone. We weren't alone. I didn't have to take his abuse.

"Chicky, chicky," he whispered.

"Bastard," I hissed back.

"Maybe." His arm circled my waist, hugging me to him before he returned to his task.

I bit my lip, feeling the zipper pull down. What on earth had possessed me to go without anything underneath? Oh, right. 'Be sexy.' Zell let out a satisfied chuckle and I felt the rough leather brushing against my skin in addition to his fingertips as they eased me from the confines of the denim.

Before I could whisper for him to stop, he wrapped his hand around me. The leather was soft but alien against my skin. Shifting my hips, which only seemed to make it worse, I let out a soft, unhappy noise.

"It'll get better. Promise."

He didn't say, however, better for who. Admittedly, as the leather warmed, it started feeling more and more comfortable, but I still didn't like it. Zell wouldn't listen to any protests, though, just humming along with the music, his stroke sometimes following the tempo.

Though I didn't want to, I leaned back against him, head resting on his shoulder. He turned his head and I felt the soft press of a kiss against my temple. For a split second, I felt a flutter of hope in my chest. It died as soon as I tried to turn and look at him. He let out a soft growl and squeezed tighter.

Rinoa had gotten up to dance, eventually dragging Squall up with her. Not soon after, I watched as Seifer got to his feet and offered his hand to Quistis.

"Getting ideas?" Zell murmured into my ear.

Nothing I wanted to share with him. Instead, I just shook my head, not trusting my voice right now.

"Shame." With the others even more distracted, he picked up the pace.

Hyne forgive me, I couldn't help it. No matter how much my mind protested, my body liked what he was doing. As the tension built, I could feel my back arching away from him, my lip sore from biting it so hard to keep from crying out.

As he coaxed me closer and closer to release, Zell sat us up a little straighter. The reason why never crossed my mind until he had me right on the edge...and then stopped. Just as quickly, he seized my arms, keeping them pinned against my sides.

Whimpering with frustration, I tried pulling free, tried wriggling my hips, anything to make the ache go away.

"Careful now," he purred. "Wouldn't want to get your jacket dirty." The laugh he let out had no mirth for me.

"You son of a bitch," I hissed.

"I preferred 'bastard,'" he taunted with a laugh.

Anger washed away the crest of pleasure, though the throb of my unfulfilled desire still remained, the ache settling there a reminder of Zell's current capacity for cruelty. I had half a mind to discard my pride and just pull away from him as I was. He must have sensed it, since I felt his fingers digging into my arms.

"You're coming home with me," he growled into my neck. "Maybe if you're lucky, I'll finish what I started."

"And if I say no?"

"Then Selphie gets a less than pleasant wake-up call."

Damn him. He knew I wouldn't let him do anything to hurt her. Even if I went to Squall, he'd still do it. Not right away, but he'd still do it, as soon as he had his chance. "Fine. But only--"

"I know. Because you won't let me hurt her." He grinned. "Tuck yourself away, Cowboy. Looks like we're heading out." He released me and I hurried to do so.

The ride home was hellish. While the others chatted happily about the music, I sat there in silent dread while Zell rode the whole way with a smirk on his lips. After the other two couples had wandered far enough ahead of us in the garage, Zell grabbed me and shoved me against the side of one of the parked cars. He forced his knee between my legs, brushing the two of us together. One hand slid into my hair, gripping it as he pulled me down into a hard kiss.

"Hyne, it's been hell waiting to do that." His voice was husky, his eyes almost seeming clouded as he pulled back and looked at me.

"Zell, please don't do this," I whispered. "This isn't you. This isn't how I wanted to be with you."

One side of his mouth tipped up in a smile. "And what did you imagine for our first time, hmm? Wine and roses? Silken sheets? Not bent over the hood of a car like this?"

I had to close my eyes, not wanting him to see the tears that I'd felt start to well up. Taking a shaky breath, I blinked them open. "At least take me to bed." I tried to sound firm but there was that dread he wouldn't listen, instead opting to take me as we were.

He eyed me up and down again but wouldn't look me in the eyes. I wasn't sure if I felt comforted or hurt by that. Gripping the waist of my jeans, he jerked me forward, walking backwards toward the door. "You need to be a little more careful with what you wish for." The chuckle that accompanied those words ran like Shiva's touch down my back.

*

I felt a touch on my shoulder and jerked awake and upright, blinking my eyes into focus, trying to fix on the source. When my breathing finally calmed down, I turned to look up into Quistis' frowning face.

"Irvine, your class let out hours ago. What are you still doing here?"

Turning to look at the desk, I found a small pile of exams I'd been grading. They were strewn over the desk, like I'd pushed them aside while I had been sleeping. Raking a hand through my hair, I looked at them without really seeing them there. "I...I don't know."

As I lowered my hand, I glanced up, realizing that Quistis was staring at my wrist. Shaking the sleeve downward, I did my best to cover up the red circles that formed a twisted bracelet at the base of both of my hands.

"Irvine, what the hell?" She reached for my arm and I jerked away from her, too quickly, though. A pain shot through my chest and I winced, letting out a soft groan.

"It's nothing." My eyes flicked up to her face for a second, then fell back to the desk.

Before I could stop her, she pushed me back in the chair a little and seized the bottom of my shirt, pulling it upward. I tried batting at her hands but I was so sore, so tired. My body didn't want to cooperate. I couldn't look at her, not after the soft, pitiable sound I heard her let out.

"Irvine...merciful Hyne, what happened to you?"

Don't cry. Don't cry. It'll only make you hurt worse. Don't cry. I wanted to tell her. She'd care. She'd help. I knew she would. But I couldn't make my mouth form the words. I couldn't tell her about Zell. Couldn't tell her about him stripping me. Binding me. My cheeks started burning as my mind replayed him behind me, filling me, ravaging me, making me howl. The bruises on my chest had come from his grip, his pinches. Hyne even my hair hurt from his using it to pull my head back, hissing in my ear that if I healed, he'd do worse the next time.

I jerked my shirt downward, staring off at some spot on the floor. "Nothing. Training accident."

She knelt down beside me, resting a hand lightly on my leg. I flinched and she felt it. "It was Zell, wasn't it?"

"No."

Pushing herself up a little, she brought herself more level with me. I felt her fingers brush my jaw which made my eyes pinch in a small wince. I was sore there, too, from where he'd gripped on to me. "Irvine, I left my purse in the car."

What did that matter? Why should I care about...oh Hyne. She saw the two of us. Maybe she even heard us.

She knew.

That single truth shattered everything I'd been trying to build up. The cocoon of lies I was trying to cushion myself in to try and keep myself safe and sane from Zell's abuse was ripped away with that one, simple realization. Still, I didn't see it as a way out. I only saw it as a means for him to trap me even more.

Letting out a pained noise, I wrapped my arms around my chest, trying to ease the ache as the tears I'd been holding back started to stream down my cheeks, sobs and muffled whimpers only lancing me with further pain as I tried to keep them in, that being just slightly better than if I let them free.

"Shhh. Shhh." I felt Quistis wrapping her arms around my shoulders, drawing me close to her. One hand circled lightly over my back, the other combing through my hair.

I clung onto her and wept. Everything from the past weeks building up and pouring out. The lies. The abuse. All the pain. I could literally feel the burn of it in my tears. And Quistis, Hyne bless her, didn't say a word. She just held onto me as I whimpered into her shoulder, sobs starting to pull from my throat, wracking, pitiful sounds that spoke more than I could of how I'd been hurt...and how low I'd gone.

When I finally started to just sniffle, she drew back, her hand cool against my cheek. Her thumb brushed away the remaining tears and it felt good, refreshing. Raising tired eyes to hers, I could see them almost swirling behind her glasses, the blue of them seeming to draw you in like a whirlpool would.

Leviathan.

Quistis shared her essence with the ancient beast, almost as old and powerful as Bahamut. The water he commanded could both soothe and destroy. At this moment, the waters were still, offering me refuge. I smiled a little. She was a good match for fiery Seifer, temperance to his flame.

Cupping her hand behind my head, she laid a light kiss to my forehead. "Go get yourself some rest, Irvine. Hyne knows you deserve it." She slid her hand around, fingertips resting on the middle of my chest. I wrapped my hand around them and shook my head. "Just a little. So you can sleep."

I released her hand and the magic flowed through my body like a drink of fresh water. I felt chilled at the places where I hurt the most but when the sensation faded, there was little more than a slight ache where once a throbbing pain had been. I let out a sigh and almost expected to see my breath.

Even knowing it was futile, I had to ask anyway. "Please don't tell Squall."

Her lips formed into a thin line as she looked at me. I could tell I was about to get a serious tongue lashing for saying something so stupid. Instead, she sighed and cupped my cheek. "All right. No Squall."

Resting my hand on the back of hers, I turned my head, laying a kiss into her palm. "Thank you."

"Go get some rest. I'll clean up in here and leave the papers in your office, all right?"

"All right." Pushing myself slowly to my feet, I stumbled a pace or two. Walking was definitely easier than earlier, more of the pain having faded. Once I was more steady on my feet, I turned myself in the direction of the dorms and from there, my bed.

Shucking most of my clothes, I didn't even bother climbing under the covers. I just collapsed onto it, finding relief that I could twist my body into a comfortable sleeping position now. I'd just reached that drowsy haze, when your body is completely relaxed and your mind is just about to follow when something jerked me awake again.

Quistis had promised she wouldn't say anything to Squall. She hadn't said anything about--

[Copper]

*

"You're dead, you son of a bitch!"

Seifer and Zell were, at this very second, wrestling around on the floor in the middle of the main concourse of the Garden. Small blessing that they were the only ones there. Everyone else, but me, had wised up and cleared out, instinctively knowing this was no spectacle. The grey lump of Seifer's coat was balled up against one wall, looking like he'd thrown it off before they started fighting. Unfortunately, it looked like that had given Zell time enough to put on his Ehrgeiz gloves. Seifer had to be mad, attacking him like that.

Zell got under Seifer and kicked him off with his foot. The former Knight hit the ground, rolled up to a crouch, and launched himself at the other blonde once again. Zell dodged out of the way and slammed his elbow into Seifer's back. What should have been a blow to knock him to the ground only seemed to graze off of him.

"Spells?" Zell taunted. "That's cheating." He bounced in place, shaking his hands out and then shifting a foot back, arms up in a ready stance.

"Zell, stop it!" I stood on the ring that circled the ground floor but I could see the two of them clear, and they could both see and hear me.

I broke Zell's concentration for a second as he turned to fix almost as murderous a gaze on me. Quistis had told him. So why was Seifer...

Tackling Zell to the ground again. They hit the floor in a heap, Seifer coming out on top. Not allowing Zell to repeat the maneuver from before, he straddled his legs, throwing punches down at him. Zell was blocking with his wrists crossed, something that only seemed to infuriate Seifer more, since he couldn't get a good hit in.

"Real fighters don't need spells," Zell spat. As he blocked this time, he shoved back with his wrists, then flicked them around, both fists slamming into Seifer's stomach. I caught sight of the ripple of protect magic that absorbed the brunt of the damage. Seifer still felt it, but it wasn't as bad as it could have been.

It took me a few minutes to climb over the seats and decorations that separated the two sections. By the time I was on my feet again, Quistis had found them, too, shouting, pleading for Seifer to stop.

Her glasses were missing and wisps of her hair had fallen out of her bun. Like me, she didn’t dare get between them, holding back on her spells as well. With them that close, she couldn’t hit Zell without Seifer suffering collateral damage and Zell had trained hard to resist any spells that might affect his movement. When I finally joined her, I could then see the red welt on her cheek, even a spot where the skin had split open, she'd been hit so hard.

No, Seifer wasn't mad. He was pissed.

They were wrestling again, Zell having grabbed Seifer's wrists, rolling and bucking beneath him until he managed to throw him off, still gripping him, using the momentum to put himself on top of Seifer instead.

"Look at you. Pathetic." He started laying punches into Seifer. Though he could block some and the spell was holding, it couldn't last forever. "A fallen knight trying to reclaim his honor. And for what? A pity fuck."

"Screw you," Seifer snarled. He gave up blocking and grabbed hold of Zell, throwing him to the side, bucking him off, and scrambling out from under him.

"Irvine." Quistis clutched at my arm, looking up at me, clearly fearful for Seifer.

I closed my eyes and concentrated. I was in the same boat as her: not willing to hurt my friends and having spells that would be thoroughly impotent against Seifer’s attacker. Quistis let out a gasp and I felt her pull away from me. In the fraction of a minute I'd had my eyes closed, they were up and swinging at one another again. Rather, Seifer was swinging. Zell was dodging, taunting Seifer with every missed punch.

"Always fancied yourself a knight, didn't you? Well, you fucked that up. You chose the wrong side, Seifer. But then, that's been your problem too. Always wanting the fast win. Always needing the bigger prize. If you weren't so concerned with having a pissing contest with Squall all your life, you might have amounted to something. Now you're his bitch and everyone knows it." He actually stopped long enough to laugh spitefully at the other man.

Seifer let out a cry that you could hear the rumble of Ifrit behind. Flames licked along his arm, the glow of an ember burning at his knuckles. He managed to latch onto Zell's shirt with his free hand, bringing the other up with the intent of slamming his fist into Zell's face.

He never connected. Zell brought a hand up and caught the blow in his open palm. He never flinched, though the smack of them connecting was loud enough for us to hear where we stood. I could see the two of them struggling against one another, Seifer trying to push forward, the glow of the fire getting more and more intense, and Zell trying to hold him at bay. They seemed locked like that for several minutes before Zell buckled his hold. The momentum behind Seifer's attempt at continuing the punch threw him forward, enough for Zell to grab him by the wrist with his other hand. Twisting around with a serpent's grace, Zell kicked Seifer's knee from behind, forcing the taller man into a kneeling position, though he still had hold of his arm, having turned it, wrenched up backwards at what I knew was a very painful angle. He planted his other hand on Seifer's back to prevent him from getting back to his feet.

"Zell, let him go." Quistis took another step toward the two of them, stopping again as Zell jerked Seifer's arm up a little further. He growled but didn't let out the scream I think Zell was hoping for.

"Bastard took a swing at me first, Quistis. I'm going to teach him just how stupid that was." Zell glared down at Seifer. I could see more in this than just the one swing. There was no retribution in this. This was years of pent up abuse, all coming back into one violent act of revenge.

Seifer looked across the hall at Quistis, holding her gaze. I saw her tip her chin up and that was all he needed. His eyes slipped closed, his face strangely calm, in spite of knowing what was going to come.

Zell struck fast and harder than he should have been able to. There was an audible pop as he slammed his hand into Seifer's shoulder, dislocating it enough that he could continue with his hits: another at the elbow, his forearm, and a sharp twist at his wrist. Shoving him forward, he all but threw Seifer to the ground where he lay still. I prayed to Hyne he'd passed out. I would have.

Stepping over him, Zell started to stalk toward the two of us. "All right, which one of you little bitches do I get to deal with first?"

He took another step and then something bright slammed into his back, flames wrapping around him like a cloak. Behind him, I saw that Seifer had rolled over, his good hand outstretched as the glow of the spell faded from around it. It dropped to the floor as he went limp.

Zell wheeled on him, the fire having burned through his shirt, leaving it in tatters against his back, red and blackened skin that had immediately blistered under the intensity of the assault. He took a few steps back toward Seifer before realizing the unconscious man posed no further threat. That put his attention back on us.

I was hurt and Quistis was at a disadvantage without her glasses. Still, I felt her hand reach over and clutch at mine, determined to stand with me against Zell's rage. I caught the look on his face, obviously amused by what he thought was a futile gesture. Now that he was alone, he was an easier target. I felt a chill, risking a glance down to see frosty air trickling from the fingertips of her free hand. We didn’t have to do this. I squeezed her hand and slipped away from her, ignoring her soft plea for me not to.

"I'm the one you should be angry with, Zell. Leave the two of them out of this." I put myself between him and Quistis.

"Sorry, too late." He strode up to me. "Seifer laid hands on me first, for all the good it did him. And Quistis here should learn to keep her nose out of other people's business."

Her tone was incredulous. "Stay out of your business? I saw what you did to Irvine! How is that not my business?"

"What happens between two consenting adults doesn't concern anyone else," he growled.

"Con--" She seemed to choke on the word.

"You said you were there, didn't you? Then you heard Irvine tell me to take him to bed." He put his blue eyes on me and blew me a kiss.

"I can't imagine anyone consenting to what you did to him!"

Zell crossed his arms and winced, obviously still feeling the effects of Seifer's burn. "Did you even bother to ask him?"

"Zell, he wouldn't--"

"He did." His tone and his smirk had the attitude of a victor. "Go on, Irvine. Tell her."

I looked over at Quistis, seeing the plea in her eyes that begged me to prove her right. I looked at Zell, smug and satisfied that I was cowed enough by his threats that he had me beneath him. I looked past him to Seifer, willing to fight to the last for his lady without any regard to himself.

"I..." The sentence came out slowly and I had to swallow before finding my voice again. "Like hell I did."

"Son of a bitch!"

Zell went for me but before he could get close, something zipped between the two of us, causing us to jerk apart. The whistle of something flying through the air continued until there was a click. Both Quistis and I spun around to find Squall and Rinoa there, the girl adjusting the boomerang that had just come back to her launcher.

Lionheart pointed directly at the other man, Squall's face was grim. "Zell, stand down."

"They attacked me first," he replied with a snarl. "Seifer--"

"Quiet." He looked from Quistis to me, gaze lingering, sorrow showing through in those steel eyes of his. I could read his thoughts plain as day. He thought he failed me. "We...heard enough."

Looking between the two men, I didn't want it to come to this. I knew what it was. Why this had all happened. "Squall." I motioned for him to lower his weapon, which he did with some reluctance. "Zell, you're right, but only partially so. Yeah, I did submit, but not to you." I watched the smirk that returned fade again. "Diablos, Zell. It wasn't you. It was him. I kept thinking that maybe, one of these times, after everything, he'd be satisfied and he'd just...fade into the background again. But he just kept getting stronger and stronger, taking you away, piece by piece. I have to believe that you're still in there somewhere, Zell. My friend. Our friend." I gestured to the others behind me. "Please. Just give me that hope."

He twitched a little, then again, and I realized he'd started laughing. "And just what do you think your pretty little words were going to do? Make me feel bad? Listen to yourself! You're begging and pleading with me just as much now as you were last night!" From the gleam in his eyes, I'd flinched when he said that. "You're pathetic. Do you know how easy it was to twist you? 'Do whatever you want. Just don't hurt Selphie. Don't hurt Selphie,'" he mocked in a false whine. "Did you really think I would? Not when just the thought of it was enough to make you mine?" He gave me a smug smile.

I could feel my cheeks starting to burn again, the faintest bit of tears pricking up in my eyes. Hearing him mocking me, laying out the shame I'd been trying to fight, and in front of the others, people I considered family. I had nothing to hide behind any more and yet, at the same time, it left me with nothing to hide, either.

A hand came to gently rest on my shoulder. Quistis was still close enough to touch me and I turned my face to her, not able to look her in the eyes. She reached up with her other hand and brushed a finger along my jaw. Flicking my gaze up, I nearly started crying again at the sight of her. Bruised as she was, a wound she'd gotten defending me, she still managed to smile, the faintest up-turn of her lips that spoke with her eyes of the pride that she felt toward me. She slid a hand around the back of my head, tipping our foreheads close enough to press lightly together. I heard the sound of the waves roaring in my ears and among them, the howl of a defiant Leviathan. As we stood together, I could see something out of the corner of my eye. It was a glowing ember, tiny compared to the inferno it had been, but burning with the same intensity.

Turning to look at Squall and Rinoa, I found them together, his arm around her waist, a silent debate passing between them. I could feel Shiva's kiss against my skin and the melody of Rinnie's Siren reached my ears. Within my own chest, Bahamut stirred, roaring with a voice that echoed back to a time long forgotten by the rest of us.

Slowly, my eyes turned toward Zell. He stood there, arms crossed, that smug look still on his face, confident and cocky. He was just daring us to try and act against him. I looked at him, but I didn't see him. There was darkness all around him, like a shadow had crept up and wrapped its arms around him, hugging him, whispering in his ear. It wasn't the darkness that I sought. It was something else. Something that I knew was still there. That I prayed was still there.

You must make him see the darkness within himself. Only then can he be lead to the light once more.

You must find a way to cast light upon the darkness. Perhaps this is your chance.

The light in the darkness. I had to find it. But maybe...maybe the only way for it to shine again was to get Zell to face what had overshadowed it.

I stepped away from Quistis, her fingertips brushing my own as I did, walking over to stand close to Zell again. "You told me once that darkness couldn't kill you." He watched me as I reached up, letting my hands rest on his shoulders. I felt his hands come up, gripping at my arms. He wouldn't let me get away. I'd walked willingly into the lion's den. "I've come to find that darkness may not be able to kill you, but it can swallow you up and devour you." I tipped my forehead to his, reaching out, trying to latch on to just the edge of it. If I could get hold, I could pull it out, or at least pull it back. Let the light in once more.

"Get away!" Zell's voice roared in my ears and I felt his hands slam into my already bruised chest, shoving me back, the force hard enough to make me stumble and plant my backside on the floor.

Quistis was there to help me to my feet, Squall and Rinoa advancing to form rank with the two of us. We looked at Zell as if he were something alien, no longer the friend we knew, but a twisted doppelganger of the one that we loved.

"I will not let you have him!" From a dead stop, he flipped into a spring that planted his hands on the ground, body twisting, legs out, intent on letting his feet land square in Rinoa's chest. Before he could connect, Squall was in his way, the sole of his boots connecting with the flat of the other's gunblade. Rinoa scrambled back, out of the way as he literally pushed Zell off of him and away. The blonde landed on his hands and the toes of one foot, flipping his body around and immediately in position to be rushing back at the one who dared to defy him, energy starting to crackle over the fabric of the gloves.

Squall was at a disadvantage. He didn't want to hurt Zell, but the other man didn't seem to be extending him the same courtesy. Now and then, he'd smack him with the edge of his blade, but he wouldn't strike true. From one side, Rinoa launched her own weapon, letting it graze over his already wounded back, giving Squall the break that he needed to haul back and slam a hilt-backed punch into Zell's jaw.

Zell staggered a few steps back, hand coming up to where he'd been struck, spitting blood out of his mouth. "Well, what do you know? He's got the balls after all." He shifted his foot back, his stance a little more guarded than it had been, though he still seemed to be rocking from foot to foot as though feinting who his next attack might be directed at. "How big are they, Rinnie? He a good lay or is he lacking? Always been willing to give you something better."

The dark-haired girl screwed up her face in disgust at Zell's words, but I had to give her credit. The old Rinoa would have blanched at remarks like that, covering her ears and maybe even run away. Instead, it was "Shut up!" backed by the ripple of a Silence spell. Unfortunately for us, it didn't take. It was just one more spell that we’d all come to be resistant to after Ultimecia. Points to her for trying, though.

"Keep me covered," I whispered to Quistis and she nodded. As she closed her eyes, I felt something stirring around us, a soft breeze that reached out, almost visibly wrapping itself around the four of us. Despite the gentleness that bore it, I knew from past experience that its temperance could protect from even the harshest of blows. That done, she stepped past me, taking a place on Squall's left. Rinoa moved back up to his right.

"Well, now, let's maybe make this a little more even." Zell smirked and drew himself up a bit straighter. His hands began the motions of a focusing kata and the energy around him seemed to swell, hold for a second, and then burst. He shook his head and flashed a wolf-smile. "That's more like it." His voice came out breathy, as though he were speaking in fast-forward. Haste. Dammit.

Still, I didn't have time to focus on his fight, as he launched himself toward Squall again. I couldn't get involved. I had something a lot more important to do and quite frankly, I was scared I didn't have the strength to do it. I had the will, but the way that I felt, I didn't know.

"Where are you, you bastard?" Focusing my attention on the whirling blur of fists and feet that was Zell, I felt my vision seeming to contract. The only thing I could see was him. Perpetual motion in high speed. Punch. Punch. A round-house kick that dropped him into a crouch, sweeping out with his other leg, spinning into an uppercut that was followed through with a chest-level punch from his other hand, the first having drawn back for another punch to the gut. There was no break in his movements, no pause to consider the next strike. He simply acted, his body knowing the motions from years of perfecting this.

But there was no glow, not that I could see. For Zell, moves like these were as instinctive as breathing. Where was she? She should be there, fighting alongside him. Maybe, because she knew the truth, she wouldn't.

Quez wasn't the target though. Something else was. With the fight keeping all of his attention, I was able to reach out again, seeking those little corners of his mind where the darkness had taken root. Focusing as best I was able, I latched on one again and pulled.

Something howled. I wasn't sure if it was Zell or something else, but the anger at the feeling of separation that I'd started slammed forefront into my mind, trying to drive me out. This time, though, there would be no distractions. The others kept Zell away from me as I dug in deeper, my determination to pull him out fighting against Diablos' want to stay where he was.

I could feel blood, warm and wet, trickling down over my top lip. A fitting accompaniment to the hooks and spikes that seemed to be driving themselves into my brain. It was a two-front battle on my part. I wanted Diablos out of Zell, but didn't want to pull him into my head and give him a new resting place. I wanted him out. Wanted him gone. The darkness started creeping into my vision again, filling the edges of my sight, threatening to steal it away. I'd pulled him out, but I wasn't strong enough to keep him at bay.

BEGONE!

Vertigo hit me as I felt Bahamut rush to the fore of my mind. The dragon stood defiant against the demon's intrusion. I could feel his wings beating against my temples, the roar of his voice reverberating through me, not even having to pass my ears. He was already there, inside me, standing guard against this unwanted intrusion. I could feel his desire, his refusal to let this taint harm me any longer. As the darkness pulled back, I realized I was looking at the world through tears in my eyes.

"Irvine!" There were a pair of hands on me I didn't know, keeping me from sagging to the ground.

Thank you.

I could hear Bahamut roar his victory.

"Irvine, talk to me!" I realized I was kneeling now, Squall in front of me, his hand slapping lightly against my cheek.

"I'm good. I'm good." I struggled to get to my feet again. Looking past his shoulder, I let out a gasp. "I'm not good."

Diablos hovered in the Garden, each flap of his wings like a gale force, his tail lashing out, barely missing the walls. We heard him suck in a breath, ragged, as though it had been centuries since he'd done so. Perhaps it had.

"You who would disturb me...die."

The Garden faded to nothing but night around us. If I hadn't been able to feel the floor beneath my knees, I would have sworn we were floating. Maybe we were and all we rest on was solid darkness. Squall and I exchanged a look and he pulled away from me, scooping up the blade that rest by his side, the tip of it dragging against the ground as he rushed the demon.

This was something we could fight without worry. This was something we could kill.

Quistis renewed the protective spell around us while Squall and Rinoa began the attack. I was unarmed, but that didn't mean I was helpless. Stretching out a hand, I felt the hot energy of a Firaga burning down through my arm, the flames taking shape a hair's breadth from my skin as they shot outward, slamming hard into the demon's chest and then coursing upward. He howled. He could know pain. Good.

The others circled around him with me providing support from off to the side. The spells in place kept the worst of his attacks from being fully effective. The swipe of a claw that would have rent flesh left only scratches. The smack of his tail, though hard enough to send one of us flying, only knocked the breath from your lungs. It didn't break anything, didn't knock you out. It just ached like hell.

I heard the swoop and blast of Squall's gunblade, him in the fore. Quistis had range and even without her vision, he was a pretty hard target to miss. As fast as she could reload, Rinoa was firing again. With dread, I watched as Diablos extended out a hand, a massive bubble of darkness expanding outward.

"Look out! Look out!"

The cry came too late. It dropped as though it were made of iron, landing on top of Squall and shattering. He was on his back when it faded away, struggling to push himself back up to his feet. He staggered a few steps, but was soon right back into it.

Oppressive darkness, pressing down on you. It couldn't kill, but it put the weight of the world on your shoulders. I understood now how the demon's power worked. It beat you down until you were weary, ready to give up, and then it went in for the kill.

A small crack of thunder drew me back into the battle. Quistis had just struck out at him with her whip, snaking it around to strike again. The second time, though, he was ready. Grabbing the end of it in a massive hand, he jerked backward, pulling her off her feet and into his waiting claws. Even where I stood, I could see them puncture into her skin. Snarling something meant for her alone, he threw her back. She slammed into the wall and crumpled. I could go to her, or I could join the fight. If I didn't fight, there'd be no saving her.

I need your strength again.

And you shall have it.

I could feel Bahamut stirring within me once again. Unlike bringing forth Diablos, there was no fighting this. Fire. Rage. The power of the stars themselves seemed to burn through me. Throwing my arms out, I let my consciousness fall into a void that seemed to exist both in my head and around me at the same time. The feeling of free-fall faded and I looked up, smiling, at the creature standing over me. Space and time had twisted, bringing Bahamut and Diablos into being at the same moment. The dragon winged back, opening its mouth as a white gleam began to shine there. With a roar, he expelled his breath, the beam shooting out, slamming into Diablos, shoving it to the ground, burning through flesh and boring through the black floor beneath. The attack finished, Bahamut pushed off the ground and seemed to fly off into the distance, the world snapping into focus once again.

[Copper]

Diablos was roaring curses at us and I could hear the crack of Squall's gunblade being fired over and over again, picking my head up just in time to see him swinging it in a downward, two-handed strike that cleaved straight down the demon's chest, spraying him with blood. I held back a cheer as I saw the thing sag to a knee, hands bracing it up from the ground. He was down. The bastard was down!

With a howl, the creature lashed out again, punching forward with a reach that seemed longer than before. Claws extended, it slammed into Rinoa's chest as she took aim at it. She let out a cry that was cut abruptly short as she collapsed to her knees, pressing her hands to her chest to try and stop the bleeding. As Squall moved to help her, the thing caught him in the back, slamming him hard to the ground. I could feel the ache in him as I watched Diablos push itself up, paying no heed to the body pressed beneath its palm.

Another Firaga got its attention and I immediately regretted my bravado, especially as his tail swept out, knocking me flat on my back. Before I could recover my breath, it slammed down on top of me, rewarding me for my effort with what I knew were several broken ribs.

All of us were down, but not fully out. All we needed was a chance at a second wind, a chance to catch our breath. A chance he wasn't going to give us.

Though his wings barely kept him off the ground, he was hovering, looking down at us like the insects I knew he considered us. The skull-grin seemed wider now. Triumphant. Satisfied. Raising a hand above his head, he began to gather the darkness there. This, I knew, could kill. The other attacks merely weakened you, brought you to the point where you wouldn't be able to survive this.

Quistis and Seifer would be unconscious. Thank Hyne for small favors. I could see Squall struggling over to Rinoa as she tried to pull herself over to him as well. I at least knew what was coming. Or so I thought.

As the darkness tipped off of Diablos' palm, crashing down toward us, there was a blinding flash of light and the rumble of thunder. A phoenix of green and gold streaked through the blackness, gliding between the orb and us, wings pushing it upward as it struggled against the crushing press of the black orb. I could seen the bottom of it starting to cave, Quezacotl piercing through the outer layer of it, forcing her way inside. It remained there, suspended above us like a raindrop clinging to the tip of a leaf. All around it, the symbols blossomed to life.

The light show within was near blinding. The arcane energies of Diablos' magic bisected the interior of the orb, illuminating the form within. All around her, Quez crackled with lightning, the strikes forking outward from her wings, her body, scoring along the sides of the orb, more and more flickering as she beat her wings. Literal lightning in a bottle. But you could only keep it that way for so long...

Fine lines began to appear on the globe, a buzz sounding from within and light straining to seep outward. It was like watching an eggshell crack, especially as pieces of it started to fall away. The lightning spirit beat her wings, shattering the remaining pieces to mere flecks. Hovering there, she drew back her head and I could hear her cry. There was rage in the sound. She was finally getting to lash out at the one who hurt her heart.

Bolts of energy shot out from every inch of her, piercing into the demonic form, pulsing with each flap of her wings as they drove deeper into Diablos' body. He threw back his head, howling as the energy coursed through him. I could see the glow of it through his skin, watching as it ripped through him, tearing him apart from the inside out. This time, when Diablos shattered, there were no bats to herald his passing, only the soft crackle of static that rippled over Quezacotl's body as she glided her way over to Zell's prone form. As she faded, it looked as though she were nestling down to protect him, her wings draping like a blanket around them both.

"Irvine? You all right?" Squall had managed to move over to my side. Why wasn't he with Rinnie? Why--? I turned my head slightly and saw that she was sitting up, the glow of her hand assuring me that she was fixing herself up just fine.

"No," I managed to get out. "Quistis?"

"Still out. Let's help you first, okay?" He gently laid his hands on my sides and I felt the pulse of a cure spell flow through me. For a split second, I felt numb, the feeling threatening to steal my breath worse than the ache in my chest. The cold then melted away, leaving a tingle in its wake and I found myself able to draw in a deep breath, letting it out in a slow exhale. I nodded to Squall, who then pushed himself up and limped over to Quistis.

It took me several minutes to will my body to move again. I was still sore, both from the battle and before, so I did my best to hold in the groans that accompanied my every motion. Rolling over, I pushed myself up to hands and knees, finding no shame in crawling over to Squall and Quistis. She looked like she was shivering while she healed, but the color in her cheeks dismissed all thought that she was distressed. Once she caught sight of me, in spite of Squall's soft protest, she pushed herself up and wrapped her arms around me.

"I'm sorry I dragged you into this," I whispered. My eyes opened and found Squall's as well. "That I got all of you involved."

He shook his head. "No, Irvine. I'm sorry. I should have been involved sooner. You came to me, about this, and I ignored it."

"Irvine..." Quistis drew back to look at me.

My shoulders drooped. "No, Squall, you didn't ignore it. I...hid it from you. Everything Zell said was true. I was afraid that if I told you, he'd find some way to get back at me through one of you. Through Selphie. So I didn't. I just..." My voice started to crack, "let him--"

He brought a hand up, resting it on my arm. "You don't have to talk about it. Not yet. Not until you're ready. But I do want you to talk. You have us. You're not alone." He looked to Quistis, who gave me a faint smile, nodding.

I remembered what I'd seen before I confronted Zell, what I'd felt. Bahamut stirred once more in my chest, though this time the feeling seemed lighter. Like nervous butterflies that made me giddy. "I know." And I felt the truth behind those words.

Slowly, the three of us got to our feet, still close, still supporting one another. Rinoa joined us, a hand clutched to her chest, though now it was out of modesty, not pain. She slid her free arm around my neck, giving me a light squeeze and a kiss on the cheek. I found myself able to return her smile.

The hand that Quistis had laid on my back had stopped moving and we could see her casting nervous glances in Seifer's direction. Squall gave her a slight nod and she slipped away from us, hurrying over to kneel by his side. From the relieved look on her face, he was still simply unconscious.

Gathering him carefully into her arms, she made sure that his arm was set right before bringing her hand up to hover over his shoulder. A soft glow bloomed between the two of them and he stirred with a groan.

He reached up, resting his good hand on her arm while she worked. From the worried look that crossed his features, he could tell that more had happened since he passed out. "Sorry, Quisty," he murmured. "Guess I messed up again."

She shushed him with a gentle smile, the glow fading as she brought her hand up to comb her fingers through his hair. From the way he favored his off hand, the other was still in need of some mending, but the more serious damage had been repaired.

"You two going to be all right?" I think I beat Squall to the question.

"Yeah." Quistis grinned almost shyly. "I've carried him to bed before."

That left Zell. He lay fetal on the floor, his charred back exposed, laced with cuts from Rinoa's Shooting Star, arms and legs lined with lashes from Quistis' whip. Outside of the chattering of his teeth, there was no movement from him, not even as I knelt down beside him. Reaching out to lay a hand on his shoulder, I jerked it back, having been shocked. I looked up at Squall. "She's still trying to protect him."

"It won't do any good if we can't help him."

Holding out my hand again, I could feel the hum of the energy that seemed wrapped around his skin. Closing my eyes, I stretched my mind out like I had before. Quezacotl lashed out at me, but I could feel Bahamut taking the brunt of her anger. It felt almost as though the two of them were at a stalemate, with me in the middle and Zell's life on the line.

Taking a deep breath, I did my best to focus my thoughts on Zell, on the man that I knew and cared for. The thrill of watching him fight. Laughter as we shared meals with our friends. Holding him after a battle, assuring him that the magic would work, that he would be fine. His smile. His body. His glow.

She latched onto that, seeming to realize it had something to do with her as well. I let her search, not hiding any of my memories from her. She shrank away from the darker ones as of late and a part of me wished that I could do the same. Instead, she found the one image in my mind's eye that I treasured: when I'd first seen the two of them together.

I'd been struggling to come to terms with having been burdened with Ifrit. I knew that I had to keep him, use him, if we were going to get through the upcoming battles. Problem was, I didn't like him and he didn't like me. We got the job done when we needed to, but after that, he went back to being nothing but a living weapon I brought out when I needed more than what I was carrying in my hands.

And then I saw Zell, not using her to fight but fighting along with her. His motions flowed with a music that only he seemed capable of hearing, punches snapping one after another, kicks and sweeps that effortlessly moved his body to both attack and defend at the same time, and all the while there was an amber glow around him, the electricity playing over his skin like a meadow rippled by the wind. As he brought his hands together, there was a swoop of green-gold wings, lightning arching outward from his body to strike down the creature in front of him. Watching the two of them, I understood why someone would willingly join their soul to a Guardian.

Something tickled my hand and I realized that I was combing my fingers through Zell's hair. The chattering had stopped and it seemed now as if he were simply sleeping peacefully, the battle that happened moments ago no more troubling than a bad dream. I could still feel the tingle of Quez's presence, but I also felt that I had earned her trust, at least as far as Zell was concerned.

The quiet was beginning to draw on-lookers once again, cadets and other staff that needed their own assurances that everything was fine again. The emotions slid back behind Squall's mask once again as he left us to address them and assuage their fears. Seifer could walk, though apparently to his chagrin, he was headed for the infirmary and not straight to bed. Rinoa retreated as stealthily as she could to the elevators, not exactly in the position to be seen by anyone at the moment. That left me, sitting on the floor, wondering if he and I might ever find peace like this again.

*

Selphie had run the gambit when we finally sat her down and revealed the situation to her. She'd been pissed that she missed aiding us in the fight, pissed at me for not telling her what was going on, and pissed at herself and the others for not realizing all this had been happening. Then she hugged onto me and cried, apologizing over and over for being stupid and when I finally got through to her that she hadn't been, Hyne love her, she cried for me, for the pain I'd gone through because of her and because of Diablos.

I still can't blame Zell himself. Maybe I'm in denial about it, but I refuse to believe that he would have done what he did, or at the very least, how he did it, if the demon hadn't been influencing him.

We're all going through a healing process right now. Some of us have physical aches to recover from and the rest, well, those are in our head. Squall's trying to believe me when I tell him he didn't do anything wrong but we can still tell he's beating himself up over it. Can't say I blame him, though. If I thought I'd nearly risked the life of my best friend and the well-being of my family, I think I'd have a tough time bouncing right back from that, too. The little bundle of attitude at his side, however, believes she's finally getting it to sink in.

Seifer's forever grumbling about his sling, even though it's due off in less than a week. Despite curative magicks, he still needed to keep stress off of it. Thankfully, with Quistis acting as his nurse, he grumbles a little less despite putting on a rather pitiful act whenever she is there to tend to him. She's not fooled in the least, but she likes to let him think it works. It gives her an excuse to baby him without him getting embarrassed.

Everyone’s been there for me, too. I still feel, sometimes, like they’re on eggshells around me, but it’s getting better. Squall and I talk, a lot, which I think helps him as much as it does me. Selphie’s been attentive to the point of nearly smothering me sometimes, but I let her. She finds her comfort in giving it to me. Rinoa and Quistis will stop in to check on me every now and then, even if they don’t stay long. It’s still nice to know that they’re keeping an eye on me. Hyne, even Seifer has come to hang out with me more. At first, it seemed like he was doing it because Quistis made him but as time passed, we found legitimate reasons to spend time together.

That left only one of us that needed to begin recovering.

Hyne be praised, perhaps, but outside of a few brawls, Zell had seemed to limit his abuse to me as opposed to any of the other staff or cadets. While the angry part of me was hurt that he'd singled me out, I was grateful, too. Squall wouldn't have to deal with the incident outside of our own little circle and I don't think Zell could have handled knowing that he'd turned his perverse and violent attentions on more than one person.

I walked into the infirmary and found him sitting on his bed. One leg dangled over the side, bare foot kicking lazily back and forth. The other was propped up, a rest for his elbow as he sat, chin in hand, staring out of the window. His eyes slid over to me and then slowly turned back to the glass.

"Stopped by to see how you were doing." He didn't answer. I waited for a good couple minutes, hands stuffed in the pockets of my coat. "I'll leave, if you don't want company," I said quietly. Still nothing.

Tipping my hat, I turned, intent on heading for the main door. "Irvine." I stopped, resting a hand on the door frame. "Why do you come to see me?"

Part of me didn't want to turn around. I sensed that he felt better talking to me when he couldn't see my face. Trouble was, I wanted him to see me, so he'd know I was speaking the truth. I compromised, looking over my shoulder. "Because you're my friend and I want to see for myself that you're getting better."

“But you know I am.”

“Knowing’s a little easier when you can see it for yourself.” I took the opportunity my words presented and turned to face him.

“No, you already knew. You stayed with me. After I collapsed.”

“We took turns.”

He shook his head. “You wouldn’t let anyone else watch me. You stayed here. Slept in the chair or on the floor. You’d only leave to shower, over there.” He inclined his head, indicating the staff washroom. “And you kept the door cracked open. Selphie brought you fresh clothes and your meals but you always met her at the door.”

“How do you know all this?”

“Quez. Even though I was sleeping, she was still awake, watching over me, too.”

“I was worried for you. We all were.”

“Then why are you the only one?” He drew his knees up, wrapping his arms around them.

“Only one what?”

“That comes to see me.”

“That’s not true.”

“The others. They’re all afraid of me, Irvine.” I could see tears shining in his eyes. “They’re afraid I’m going to become a monster again.”

“You can’t, Zell. You won’t. Diablos is gone.” I crossed my arms, guarding myself against the name that passed my lips.

He pinched his eyes shut, biting his lower lip, and taking several slow breaths. “What if he’s not?” His whisper came out with his tears in his voice.

Crossing the room, I sat down on the bed beside him. He let out a soft noise and backed away from me. I let him retreat but didn’t move to follow. “You tell me, Zell. Is he gone or not? Because I, of everyone, have the most right to know. He hurt me. He abused me. And he used you to do it. I tell myself that, over and over. I won’t let myself believe that you would do...that you would...” Some things were still pretty hard for me to cope with. “That you...wanted--”

“No!” Zell’s shout brought Dr. Kadowaki running into the room.

He lunged forward, hands gripping at my arms. The tears gave his eyes a liquid quality to them. Pinching them shut, he sucked in a breath, trying to keep himself calm. “No,” came out on a whimper. “Irvine, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He kept repeating it over and over until I brought a hand up, caressing his cheek, wet now with tears.

My look sent the doctor away, though I could tell she didn’t go far. Zell crawled into my embrace, the top of his head tucked under my chin, hands clutching the arms I held around him.

“I didn’t want to hurt you, but he...he made it sound like it was...okay. That there wasn’t anything wrong with what I was doing.” He pinched his brow, trying to find words for his memories. “I...He had the answer for everything. Everything I did, he justified for me. Justified it to me. I let him use me. I didn’t even try to fight him. How is that any different than if I’d done them without him?”

I let out a sigh, feeling my breath stir his hair. “What about now?”

He tipped his head up a little. “What do you mean?”

“Now. Do you feel the same way now?”

“No! How could I? Whenever I think about what I forced you into, it makes me sick. Makes me hate myself.” His voice dropped to a whisper, fingers playing lightly with the cloth beneath them. “Makes me wonder how you can even look at me.”

I hugged him, taking in a deep, slow breath as I did so. “Because I know you. And I trust you.”

His arms circled my back and I could feel his lips press against my shoulder. “I don’t ever want to break that trust again.”

My fingers combed through his hair. “I know you won’t.”

I felt him take a deep breath, pushing away from me to look into my eyes. “You...haven’t forgiven me, have you?”

It was something I’d thought about in trying to come to terms with my feelings. “I’m still scared, Zell. There’s things your body remembers, even if you don’t. I want...I want us to find a place where I don’t have to be afraid anymore. I know it’s going to take time, but I know you. I know we’ll find it.”

He closes his eyes and nodded. “I think I want that, too.”

I smiled at him. “Sounds good to me.”

Kadowaki appeared in the door again. “He needs his rest.” Translation: I was leaving, whether I wanted to or not.

“I’ll come again tomorrow, okay?” He nodded. I rose, though his “Wait!” brought me back to his side. “What’s wrong?”

“Before you go. It’s Quez. She...” He looked at the doctor. “She wants to meet you.”

“Zell, you’re not supposed to--” she protested.

“I’d be honored.”

I slipped an arm around him, making it easier for him to lean close, forehead tipping against mine. Strong fingers slid their way between my own. I squeezed them to reassure him. Near as I could tell, this was the first time he’d ever been without her since they’d junctioned.

Our breathing deepened, finding that moment when our breaths came at the same time. I felt relaxed, too, my mind at peace and open to sharing this with him. Even Bahamut felt no need to stir. Zell reached up, cupping my cheek, and I could feel her drawing closer, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end.

My eyes opened at my gasp, several shaky breaths escaping after that. Everything seemed to snap into a sharper focus. Colors, even vibrant ones, seemed brilliant now. Hyne, it was like I could hear them, the energy and emotions they gave off. Zell’s touch seared my skin but at the same time, felt as gentle as breeze. I could feel her presence, humming beneath my skin. Sweet Hyne, I was right. She was a direct charge to your system.

I was afraid to move, knowing if I did, I might cry out from the overload of sensation. “Aah?” The sound escaped my lips as I felt Zell’s arms come around me and draw me into his hold, his touch gentle enough not to set me off. I rest my cheek against his shoulder, letting my eyes slip closed. I could still see lights crackling beneath my lids, the warmth of his embrace almost seeming to soak into my skin.

“It’s a little intense at the beginning. I know,” he whispered, a pleasant drone accompanying his voice. “Just try and relax. I’ve got you.”

I could literally feel his words as he spoke. Breathing deep seemed to help a little, but there was still a tingling sensation that seemed to prickle along every bit of my skin. Thank Hyne I had Zell to focus on or I might have gone mad. I wondered how he could stand it, if his endless stream of energy was his way of coping with this feeling or if he’d simply grown comfortable with it after all this time.

Quez did her best to settle, though I could tell it was hard. I was as foreign to her as she was to me. Once she was nestled within my mind, she reached out a little further, a little deeper. I had no fear of her doing so, giving her the same openness as I had before, letting her pick freely through my memories and brush her wings against my soul.

Zell held me for as long as she needed. It could have been mere heartbeats, it could have been hours. It didn’t matter. So long as I could feel Zell, I didn’t care. Eventually, though, my body began to tingle again and I felt like I was ready to twitch out of my skin.

“I think she’s ready to come home.”

“Just relax. We’ll find each other.”

Like numb limbs regaining circulation, my body eased back into a relaxed comfort as she returned. “Sweet Hyne,” I breathed out. “Zell, she’s beautiful.”

“I know.” He smiled, getting that ‘listening’ look again. “She thinks you are, too.”

“Thank you.” It seemed appropriate. “I should let you rest.”

“All right.”

We touched foreheads again, gently holding each other with fingers in our hair. Drawing back, I saw/felt/knew she was watching over him. It was something she wouldn’t do if this weren’t ‘our’ Zell.

“We’ll come see you again soon,” I smiled, this having given me the assurance the others needed as well.

“Bring release papers when you do.”

Laughing, I tipped my hat to him as I left.

[Copper]

*

One advantage to being in charge was having the largest suite of rooms to yourself. Or at least, to yourself and all of your friends.

Squall and Rinoa were debating what video to start with when I walked in. They'd go back and forth like this for at least ten minutes until either they agreed on something completely different from their original choices or Rinnie won. Happened every time.

Seifer was already sitting on the couch. It was a good thing his arm was fully healed or he would have had a hard time keeping Quistis steady on his lap and keeping hold of his drink with one hand. Lucky for him, she didn't have any qualms about feeding him popcorn. Every now and then, too, I'd catch the flick of his tongue against her fingertips and the faint smile that brought to her lips. No question what those two would be doing after the movies.

Popcorn duty always belonged to Selphie. She had the ear for it, knowing when to pull the stuff away so it wouldn't burn or have too many unpopped kernels. She also knew all of our favorite flavors, dashing mine with pepper powder, drenching Rinoa's in butter, and so on.

I'd just gotten my serving and a bottle of beer when the door hissed open again. The blonde that stepped into the room looked highly uncomfortable to have half-a-dozen pairs of eyes on him at once, reaching up to scratch the back of his head.

"Selphie mentioned we were still doing this." Zell chewed on his bottom lip, eyes flicking over to Squall first, then trailing over to the rest of us.

The brunette inclined his head. "Grab a spot, Zell. Rinnie and I are still picking something out."

"That's what you think." She triumphantly shoved a disc into the player and thus began a round of "Keep Squall away from the buttons."

In spite of the time he'd spent recovering, in which the others began to accept that Zell had gotten back to his old self, there was still an edge of uncertainty whenever he was around. We'd decided that the best way to overcome it was to do our best to return to our old routines, ones which included him in our lives.

He plopped down in front of the couch, knees up and legs spread a little. He caught sight of me coming over and thumped his hand lightly on the floor between them. In the past, that had always been my favorite spot, even if he thought nothing of it. This time, I froze and he knew why. Turning away from me, he stretched his legs out instead, crossing them at the ankles, his arms crossing as well, hugged now to his stomach.

"It'll be Seifer all over again." Quistis cautioned.

"Well, we've come to accept him, haven't we? Some more than others." There was a touch of a tease in Rinoa's voice. Quistis blushed and told her to shut up.

"Speaking from experience," said the blonde in question, "it helps to be eased into things. Ask, even if you think he's going to say no. The fact that you at least thought of him is sometimes enough."

"Irvine?" Squall looked over at me. "You're the one this impacts the most, but then, you've also been the one that's been trying the hardest."

I took a deep breath, thinking over what I'd seen of him in the past few weeks. Though there was still a subdued aspect to him, Zell was starting to come around to his old self again. He seemed to prefer more solitude than in the past, but there was also a part of him that I could see that still craved our companionship. And it was friendship, I knew, that gave us the strength to overcome the past adversities.

"I want him there," I said quietly, catching the smile that Squall gave me before inclining his head to Selphie, who'd offered to be our messenger in this.

Sinking down to the floor, I watched Zell look up and over with surprise as I took the spot next to him. "Extra hot," I said, offering him the bowl. "Think you can handle it?"

He fished out a few kernels. "You haven't found one yet that's made me beg off."

It was a small gesture, but I could tell how much he appreciated it. Being close to him wasn't something that bothered me. Intimacies, being in his hold, yes, but not close. There was a soft grunt on my other side and I found myself framed by Selphie and the enormous bowl she'd procured for herself. She'd even been nice enough to bring a bottle over for Zell. As she settled, I reached out, slipping my arm around her back, letting her lean against me. Having her close made me feel secure.

Squall dimmed the lights and the movie began playing as he and Rinoa claimed their customary places on the couch. Reaching into the bowl, I felt my fingers brush against Zell's. He curled his back, but before he could draw away, I wrapped my fingers around his hand, giving it a squeeze. Tentatively, he stretched his arm out and laid it across my shoulders.

There was no possessiveness in his hold. He simply reached out for me and I gave him what he wanted, leaning a little closer to him while not disturbing Selphie in the process. It felt good. Comfortable and for the first time in a while, that it was somewhere I wanted to be. I wanted he and I to have this again and I knew that in time, with the help of our friends and with our faith in one another, that someday, maybe soon, we'd have it again.

[Copper]

(As yet untitled. Comments to actually follow this one instead of ahead of time. Rated R for sexual situations. And no chocobos in this one, either. Sorry.)

It's impossible to not notice when Squall walks into a room. The black leather that he always wears becomes a negative space, constantly drawing your eyes to it.

And if you're noticing the leather, then there's no avoiding letting your gaze travel up those lean thighs of his, following the curve that is abruptly cut short by the slash of brown that circles his waist. There are times I think of it less as a belt and more as handle, fit to be gripped so that he can be pulled close.

That, of course, always gets my mind wandering, always wondering if he'd submit to a kiss like that or fight back, wanting control. Would he moan? Growl? Freeze? Melt?

He's taking a break at the moment. We've been at this for hours and even though he has the drive to throw himself into whatever task is in front of him, he doesn't always have the energy.

So there he sits, knees spread, body slouched a little on the chair, with his head tipped back and his arms stretched out over the back of it. Individual strands of white fur reach toward the line of his jaw, the ends falling just short of caressing him there. The shiny leather of his jacket is the perfect frame for the white shirt he wears beneath. Given his position, it's hugged against him now, highlighting the contours of his abdomen and chest. The only disruption of the contrast is the silver pendant that dangles down to lay to the right of his heart.

His eyes are closed, chest rising and falling steadily beneath the soft fabric. I sit watching him, following how an inhale pulls the shirt tighter, the tiniest bit more of his skin becoming exposed until he exhales and the shirt loosens again.

Rising slowly, I walk over to stand before him, between his legs. Leaning over, I'm careful not to disturb him by balancing myself with a hand on the chair. Seems I didn't need to bother.

A firm hand presses to my chest, stopping me from moving forward. "What are you doing?" His head's tipped up, hair falling down, barely covering those steel eyes of his.

I don't answer with words. How could I put feeling into form? Instead, I brace my hands on the back of the chair and lean down, subtly pushing his hand back far enough for me to lean in and press my lips against his. The kiss happens for a heartbeat before he pulls away. I can feel his breath coming faster against my own lips.

Sliding a hand into his hair helps me pull his head back just a little further, enough that I can lean in and kiss him again. This time, there's no surprise...and no resistance.

He melts.

The groans against my lips are broken up by his parting the two of us for air. Seems he's not used to being kissed this deeply. Taking pity on him, I slowly kneel down, bringing myself about level with his chest. He watches me, a curious look in his eyes, something almost innocent about the way he follows the brush of my hands. They skim over his chest, feeling the muscle beneath his shirt, until I reach the hem. Sliding my fingers under the fabric, I peel it upward, leaning in at the same time to feather kisses against his skin.

Beneath my lips, I can feel the slight quiver of his skin and the quickening of his breath. His fingers comb through my hair, short nails scratching lightly against my scalp. If he enjoys the simplicity of this, what I intend to do next will drive him wild.

There's more nervousness in his gaze than worry or desire. What would concern me would be protests, but he voices none, not even as I slide the tongue of his belt free of the buckle, leaving both ends to dangle by his thighs. Next is the button and after that, very carefully, the zipper. Tugging the fabric as far apart as I can manage, I find out that Squall, it seems, likes kissing.

I was right. By now, his head's thrown back, uninhibited moans sounding from his throat. His back is arched away from the chair and one hand grips at the arm while the other bunches my hair the faintest bit roughly into his hold. It doesn't bother me, nor does it interrupt what I'm doing. The deeper I swallow him, the louder he gets until he loses his voice to his pleasure. Gasps replace the moans and I have to lower a hand to his hips to keep him still for me.

"Don't. Don't. I'm going to--"

I don't let him finish, picking up the pace and teasing with my other hand, it soon drives him over the edge. I swallow down his release, eyes turned up to watch the way his eyes flutter and his lower lip quivers as the feeling rushes through his body. He finally collapses back against the chair, panting, his fingers flexing as he releases his grip.

Reaching up, I give him a very slight smile as I smooth his shirt back into place, even tucking it in before buttoning and buckling everything else up once more. Without a word, I smile at him and push myself up to my feet using the arms of the chairs. He looks up at me, lips parting to say something but I gently lay a finger over them, giving him a smile. Humming softly to myself, I leave him be and head back to the task I'd been working on previous, smiling a little as I can feel his gaze watching me as I go.

****
Another first person. I've been doing these a lot lately, although I purposely left the narrator unnamed in this one. You can use your own imagination as to who it is. For this one, my focus was more on the description of Squall than the (simplistic) plot, an exercise in, well, descriptive writing, I suppose. That's why I put the comments down here, so they wouldn't bias the reading. As always, feel free to offer constructive criticism and/or praise (:D), either here, profile, or PMs. Final note: This story was writ after staring too long at my friend's Squall action figure. Toys should not make you want to peel their shirts up and bite their abs. *hides face in hands*

[Copper]

Sin asked for this one. It's a copy of the play that I had my D&D party attending one evening while visiting the Elven Isle of my homebrew world. For the moment, I'm not editing out the fact that it's in 2nd person. Just pretend you're in my gaming group *grins*

***

Eventually, the lights flicker and then dim, a murmur flowing around the building as people grow quiet, shushing partners and other guests as well. The velvet curtain of the stage parts in the middle and out steps the blonde you were talking with earlier. Her hands are crossed over her bare chest and she wears a long cloth that drapes down between her legs and barely covers her backside, the cloth linked together by thin golden chains. "Good gentles," she says in Elven, "it is my honor to welcome you to Love and Passion. We hope our story tonight can inspire you to find more of both in your lives." She spreads her arms in a welcoming gesture, eliciting whistles from some of the audience. She bows and retreats behind the falling curtain, which remains still as you hear instruments beginning to play, something soft, almost like a lullaby.

The curtains part and the stage opens to what looks like a meadow, framed in peaceful woods. Reclining on a hill are a young man and woman, both clad in loose garments of white. Her accents are gold, his silver. She's lying in his arms and the two of them seem to be talking, just enjoying each other's company.* Now and then, they'll do something affectionate:* She'll brush his arm, he'll tuck her hair back.* It's all rather innocent, but it's clear that the two of them are in love with one another.* The music takes on a deeper sound, something a little more powerful and above them, reclining downward, you see what would be an angel, watching the two of them with a smile on her face. She, too, is in white, with beautiful swan wings on her back.* Her hair is honey gold and she's clad in white as well.* She's stretched out, as one might be were they on a bank, looking into the water.* She reaches out and swirls her finger. At the same time, the couple lean in and give one another a kiss, something sweet and chaste, by your standards.* As they go back to relaxing, the angel rolls over, her back to the audience, stretching out and pillowing her head as though falling asleep, the couple seeming to do the same.* At that point, the music changes to something darker, not necessarily sinister, but certainly lacking the sweetness of before.* Out walks the brunette that you met, nude, save a similar loincloth, with leathery wings on her back and a tail lashing behind her.* Her skin's been painted blue and she sports wicked looking nails as well.* She spies the couple and gets a look of delight on her face, tip-toeing around them as though she were sneaking up on a rabbit that might startle, should it discover her there.* She looks up to where the angel sleeps and rubs her hands together, prompting some boo's and hisses from the audience.*

You see her lean down behind the young man and whisper something in his ear.* He turns his head as though listening to her and she smiles, scampering over to do the same to the girl.* Back and forth, she goes between the two of them while behind and around them on the hill, you see more figures starting to emerge, walking almost trance-like, or perhaps, waking from dreams of their own.* Men and women, all nude, save for red bands around their wrists, throats and near their ankles, begin to dance around the stage and each other while the music slowly begins to pick up its tempo. They start to come together in pairs, bodies twining together, sensually writhing against one another as they kiss, beginning to take what you know are sexual positions.* Two pairs remain standing, one with the man behind the woman, the other with her leg wrapped around his side.* On the ground are a pair with the man on top, the woman on top, and, in front center of the stage, a pair in the position to please each other with their mouths.* As the music picks up, so do their motions, each pair truly committing to the act for their position, striving to bring themselves to pleasure in time with the music.* Amid them all, you see the succubus kneeling behind the young couple, her hands running over her body as though she's enjoying the dream that she's cooked up for the two of them.* You can even see the other two starting to be moved by the dream, the writhing of their bodies rather sensual and you can tell they're each enjoying it very much.* The succubus leans over the two of them, one hand on either side of the two, seeming to exhale a faint blue mist.* The music is building in tempo and given that the other actors aren't as quiet with their roles, you can tell that a good number of the pairs are rather close, fully embraced by the lust and passion that they're inspiring in the couple.* Suddenly, though, the music stops and the lights fall on all but the angel and the three at center stage, a bit of a disappointed wailing coming from those around them.* The succubus looks up and hisses at the angel, who is now awake, backing up as she swings down from her perch to confront the demon.* She waves her hand and the two lovers return to a peaceful slumber once again.* "I'll not let your taint ruin them," she states, striding forward, forcing the succubus back even further into the darkness, though one of the lights follows her.* "Love without passion is a love doomed to die," she crows.* "Even the purest of love must give in.* You'll see...you'll see..."* As the light fades, she retreats, leaving only the original three. The angel returns to the couple and kneels beside them, giving each a kiss on the temple.* "Let not these fevered passions trouble you.* Be content with a love that's pure and true."* She withdraws to her perch again and the two wake. Though they lie in one another's arms for a moment, the way they draw apart, seeming almost embarrassed to be touching one another, assures that the demon's spell may not yet wholly be broken.

The curtain falls on the end of this chapter, parting not soon after to reveal what looks like the interior of two homes, the man and the woman's.* Both of them seem to be pacing nervously, each casting glances in the other's direction.* Eventually, the wall between them draws back, the divider actually spreading out to reveal a new background, that being the two of them enjoying a walk together in the evening.* The crowd, of course, catches sight of the succubus peeking out at them from behind a tree, slinking over and leaning in, whispering in the girl's ear.* At the same time, the angel hurries over and begins speaking to the boy.* While they both seem to be talking, there are more couples taking the stage.* From the way they're acting, they're playing the 'virtues' that the two are speaking of:* the angel showing the young man warmth and happiness that comes from love whereas the succubus is tempting the girl with the pleasures that can come from even the most innocent of explorations.* The angel seems to catch sight of what the succubus is doing and chases her away, only to have her flit around and settle at the young man's ear while the angel soothes away the lusty vision, seeming to show that love doesn't have to be all about physical pleasure.* Her counterpart shows that one can still express their passion and their love without what some consider sinning simply by sharing pleasure with their partner.* After that, the 'images' start to dance and swirl around the couple, each pair alternating in front of them, both in tame positions, then naughty ones, scurrying around faster and faster until the poses start to get mixed up, some naughty with some nice.* When all four wind up in front of them, the two lovers part, looking at each other in shock and hurry off their separate ways, the wall appearing between the two of them again.* You see the angel looking forlornly at them, though it seems that she can't get close.* That being apparent, she retreats to the area above them once again.

When the curtain rises again, you can see the succubus peeking out, grinning at the fact that the angel is nowhere in sight and the two lovers are left alone.* She strides across the stage, a little spring in her step, like she's humming happily to herself.* She slips into the woman's half of the stage, whispering to her. While she does so, you see the girl nod and the succubus beckons someone over, a different partner for the girl.* She whispers to him and the two come together while the succubus slips over to the other side of the stage and the young man.* While she's talking to him, the young woman and her partner are kissing and lightly groping one another, nothing serious but definitely could lead that way.* You see a blonde woman joining the young man on the stage, the 'narrator' and the other girl that you'd met. Seems she gets to be the young man's other partner.* While the two of them kiss, the succubus seems to be bouncing back and forth between the two couples, each time she does so, they grow more and more intimate with one another until it looks as though they're going to go all the way with their new partners.* At that point, the angel seems to take notice and the couples still while pantomimes of the original pair work their way across the stages, a show for the two of them to remind them what they shared with the other.* The more they watch, the closer they grow to one another until their partners retreat off of the stage.* The angel comes down to confront the succubus once again, telling her that love doesn't need emotions like that.* "Love's all well and good," she counters, "but if you don't express your love for someone, you can still lose them." "Physical fulfillment without any feeling isn't love.* It isn't even passion.* It's simply lust."* "Lust," the succubus laughs.* "What does an angel know of lust?"* "Enough to know that it brings only empty joy and momentary pleasure."* "Ah, so you've felt it's lash before."* The succubus looks pleased, but the angel refuses to answer.* "Oh, you needn't say anything.* I can see it clear as day."* At that point, it's become clear that the angel's wings are red now, not pure white as they were before.* "You know what it's like...to give yourself over to passion."* The succubus prowls around the angel, ruffling her feathers, brushing fingers through her hair and even hugging her from behind, one arm around her breasts, the other sliding down her stomach.* "You're only acting on lust!"* "Ah, but you're the one that wants to taste it again."* "And you only want what you can never be!"* The angel pulls away and wheels around on the succubus, who actually looks hurt at those words. She says nothing more, quickly running off the stage.* The angel brings the couple together again, soothing the two of them, kissing each on the cheek as though assuring them things will be all right.* She leaves them in each other's arms for the time being and retreats back up to her perch once more.

When the curtain comes up yet again, you find the angel watching the couple, still being rather loving, but there seems to be something...lacking between them.* The angel lies above them, arm draped down, looking like a bored child.* She picks her head up and the succubus can be seen creeping toward her, slinking along and closing the distance rather sensually. The angel simply watches, that is, until the succubus is right in front of her, snaking an arm around the back of her head and pulling her into a rather deep kiss.* This, of course, prompts the angel to push her away.* The succubus persists and the two end up fighting more than doing anything else, the succubus eventually retreating.* The next time she appears, the angel's rather wary but she takes things slow, still trying to get the angel to kiss her, though, which she won't go for.* This persists for a time, the succubus eventually learning to take things slowly, spending time to learn about her partner while the angel, at the same time, seems a little more open to the advances of the other woman. Their relationship builds slowly, starting with lengthy kisses, then moving to gentle explorations and cuddling.* At the same time, the couple's relationship seems to be warming up again as well, the two of them happier to be together, at times mimicking the actions of the two above them.* There's one point where the succubus is holding the angel in her arms and the angel nods. The succubus smiles, undoing the robe the angel wears and beginning to tend to her breasts. The angel leans back and the succubus starts to kiss lower, inching her way down between the other woman's parted legs.**Given the look on the angel's face, the way her head's thrown back and she drops down more to her elbows, there's no acting involved on the succubus' part, or hers.

From the angel's sounds, the succubus is making her feel very good indeed, her pleasured voice seeming to ripple downward, the feelings behind it looking to be inspiring to the young couple as well.* While the two outsiders continue to make love, the couple begins to do the same, starting out much the same way: kissing, very gentle foreplay, though from the way they're reacting, this is something new to the two of them, even after what they went through before, likely the first time they're sharing it with each other.* After the angel's first climax, the succubus creeps over her, bringing herself rather close to the angel's panting lips, her own head thrown back, wings flaring out as her partner returns the favor.* Below them, the lovers seem to be enjoying exploring each other, reveling in the pleasure of foreplay with one another, letting it build up to the next natural step.* The lights dim briefly, long enough for both couples to change positions.* They come up first on the couple, the man and woman clearly about to make love for the first time, both showing a bit of pleased wonder mixed with the uncertainty of it, the man doing his best to ease the pinched expression of his lover's face, treating her gently and slowly replacing the pain with pleasant feelings instead.* Above them, the succubus is behind the angel now, the position easiest for both of them, with their wings, and another thing that's also clear is that the succubus has all the necessary parts to please the angel.* You, having keen eyes, realize it's not the same succubus, though that doesn't sink in until several minutes have passed.* Both pairs make love, expressing the pleasure that can come from wanting to share something so intimate with your partner.* The outsiders finish first and from the look of things, together.* They then stretch out some, the angel curled in the succubus' arms as the two watch their couple enjoying their own lovemaking, though the curtain falls before the audience gets to witness that finish.* It prompts a few 'boo's' though their swiftly hushed.* The blonde from before slips out through the part in the curtains.* "We who have given ourselves to you hope that you will take our own message into your hearts.* Seek your pleasure where ye may, but remember that love, and passion, will always bring your heart its truest contentment."* She bows to the audience, then in the direction of the private boxes, smiling as applause starts to ripple through the audience.* As that happens, more of the players begin to take the stage, accepting their praise and taking their bows.* The young lovers are second to last, the two of them looking rather flushed but happy, so you know what they were doing as the curtain fell.* Finally, the angel walks out, holding hands with not one, but two succubi, making what you suspected before true:* there are two actors, or, rather, and actor and actress, that play the part, likely swapping out at various points. The three take their bows to a roar of applause and cheers, many folks throwing flowers onto the stage for the performers as well.

[Copper]

((Prompted by discussion in the fanfic thread, I am putting up a trio of my Kingdom Hearts fanfics. I have more, but I'm waiting for a couple others to seem right before I put those ones up. The first story was inspired by this picture (http://www.ulmf.org/bbs/picture.php?albumid=148&pictureid=2774) Found it while browsing Aerisdies and for some reason, immediately wanted to do a story for it. As always, critiques and praise are welcome, either here or privately.
**Story is rated PG for boykissing. No chocobos, either, but they're not in Kingdom Hearts, so nyeh!**))

I've walked so long in darkness that it's almost a comfort to me. I have no need for my eyes, for in this world, what you see can deceive you. It's your heart that needs to guide you and too often it can be swayed by visions. And so, to keep my heart from being swallowed by the darkness once again, I surround myself with it.

"Riku?"

The voice I know so well. Still touched with youth and yet tempered with the fires of experience. We had to grow up fast, he and I, and yet Sora still holds that innocence within his heart, something pure that the darkness cannot touch, no matter how hard it tries. I listen to his tentative voice, the scrape of his cautious steps, and I turn my covered eyes to his. The timbre of his breathing, the pitch in his question, those are things that can only be natural.

He moves closer and I can smell the ocean around him. Neither of us have been close to the shore for some time, but the memory of it lingers, clinging to him and stirring images long past in my mind. How jealous I was of him back then, so much so that I allowed the darkness to take me, to take all of us. The penitent part of me wants to draw away from him. It was my fault, all my fault, and yet, he can still bring himself to be close to me. I don't deserve such willing forgiveness.

"Is it really you, Riku?"

I feel the brush of his fingertips against my chest and suddenly feel bared before him. He needs proof. He needs to see inside of my heart to give peace to his own. His hand trails down my arm, fingers clutching at mine to assure him that I am no phantom. The warmth of his body so close to mine brings me comfort as well and I tip my cheek to the hesitant touch he wishes to lay there. I feel him brushing the cloth that covers my eyes, curious to its nature. My free hand comes up and captures his own. Now is not the time to reveal such secrets.

He lets out a soft noise as I gently pull him into my arms, wrapping them around him. He's pinned to my chest, but not so tightly that he can't slip a hand up and through my hair. Allowing myself no hesitation, I bow my head, capturing his lips with mine. There's a warm sweetness to his kiss, made all the better as a groan rolls in his throat and I feel his tongue eagerly seeking my own. His innocence is vanilla smooth, heated with cinnamon desire, and it makes me want to devour him.

"Ri...ku."

A wanting thickness coats his voice and I deny him nothing. Heated breaths pass between us as we match each others tongues, stroke for stroke and kiss for kiss. The grip of his fingers tightens in my hair as the warmth building between us seems to be intensifying. A light glimmers behind my eyes and I moan into our kiss. His fingers slide up, tugging away my blindfold. I'm certain that he can feel me trembling and that's when he draws back, my heart beginning to fear that it has been lead astray once again.

It's so faint, I barely feel it, but my heart won't let me miss the soft brush of Sora's lips against my cheek. His arms wrap gently around my neck, our bodies flush against one another. Then comes a feather-light kiss at my lips, one that slowly deepens as our heartbeats pound in my ears. Coaxed by the sound, I break from his sweet attentions, slowly allowing my eyes to finally flutter open. The blue that they meet is as pure and depthless as the sky itself and when he smiles at me, I know. He is here. He is real. My Sora is real and I know he can lead me, always, from the darkness.

[Copper]

((This is the story that was up on the old forum, which got a few accolades. Inspired by this pic (http://www.ulmf.org/bbs/picture.php?albumid=148&pictureid=2775), I realized afterward that I took a little creative license with it, but also that I don't really care *laughs* Part of what I like about it is that Sora doesn't look horribly underage and as such, the story is set several years after KH2.
**Rated R for non-consensual sex and a smidgeon of violence. There are no chocobos in Kingdom Hearts, which is why they've been omitted. Again.))

Sora picked his head up, shaking dust and little flecks of rock from his hair. Where he'd landed was a pool of light, thanks to the floor above, but the rest of it was utter blackness.

"Hey, Sora! You all right?"

He looked up, seeing Donald and Goofy peering down at him. They weren't so far away that he couldn't see the worried looks on their faces.

Pushing himself up to a sitting position, he rubbed the back of his head. Nothing felt broken. "I'm okay!" he hollered up.

"You shure?" Donald rasped.

"Yeah, nothing a potion can't fix." If it didn't break... He hadn't felt any glass, so that was a good sign.

"Well, you stay right there! We'll be right down!" Goofy drew away from the edge of the hole.

"Wait!"

They popped back into view. He didn't relish being landed on, firstly, and second, he had no idea how to get out of here. He didn't want them all to be trapped.

"You guys stay there," he ordered. "I'll see if I can't find a way up." He saw them exchange a look. "I'll be fine!"

There was some hesitation, then, finally, "Okay. We'll be here!"

Sighing in relief, Sora picked himself up, still moving slow in case he'd been hurt without feeling it. As he stood, he glanced around. Blackness in every direction.

Crouching down, he picked up a stone and scratched an arrow into the rock beneath his feet. Even if he had to make his way back here, he'd have an idea on which direction he'd tried.

"See you guys soon!" He waved up to his companions, slipping into the darkness, completely unaware that a pair of yellow eyes had opened at the sound of his fall and were now staring after him as he slowly started to inch his way forward into the darkness.

***

Maybe I should have let Donald and Goofy try to help me up. Though his eyes had since adjusted to the blackness around him, Sora still had no idea where he was. He did his best to try to keep going in a straight line, but sometimes it felt like the path beneath his feet was twisting off in odd directions. All he could really do was keep going and hope for some sign.

"Well, I could turn around," he muttered to himself.

Part of him worried, though, that if he did, there was the chance that the exit he sought would be only a few feet in front of him and he'd have missed it. Of course, then there was that other nagging feeling that he'd chosen to go the wrong way and he was only taking himself further and further away from rescue.

Okay, I really need to stop thinking about things like that and more about figuring out how to get out of here.

If only there was some sign, some clue. Anything that would tell him he was going in the right direction.

"Huh." Maybe wishing for that hadn't been so bad. There was a glimmer in the distance. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

Hurrying onward, Sora slowed his pace as he heard the telltale scrape of something moving against the stone. Flicking his hand out, he summoned forth his keyblade. Holding it gave him some measure of reassurance, enough courage to face whatever was waiting for him in the dark.

Slipping a little closer, he found what looked like a small room that had been worn out of the surrounding rock. A faint glow was emanating from the sides, looking to be coming from a moss of some sort. He could even see light reflecting off of a small pool of water nestled in the floor.

His elation at the find was short lived when he realized that there were Heartless prowling around in the cave. They paced back and forth, their antennae twitching as they roamed about, seeming to be searching for something amid the stones.

In spite of their victory in the World that Never Was several years ago, Sora and his companions still found themselves battling isolated pockets of Heartless that had somehow managed to survive. Just his luck he had to find some right now.

There was no way he was going to be able to sneak past them, not with how many of them there were. Still, he wasn't a child any more and he'd faced a good number of Heartless on his own before. He'd be able to do it again. He'd just have to wait for the right moment.

One of the little creatures shuffled along and obviously caught sight of him. Behind it, the others picked up their heads, focusing all their attention in his direction. So much for that right moment.

Not wasting any time, he thrust the keyblade upward. "Thunder!"

Lightning crackled on the tip of the key and then streaked out, slamming into several of the closest Heartless. As they lay twitching on the ground, he ran at them, swiping through their bodies with his blade. The abuse too much to take, they dissolved into a black mist.

The remaining cluster wasn't so incapacitated and rushed at him as a swarm. Spinning around, dodging, blocking their leaps, Sora managed to cut his way through them, coming away with only a few scratches from their talons and what felt like a bite.

Sending the keyblade away, he dug out one of the potion bottles from his pocket. The sturdy little thing hadn't shattered and he tipped the contents down his throat, making a bit of a face. No matter how much his friends tried to convince him otherwise, the stuff always tasted like cough syrup to him.

Walking over to the pool, he knelt down, cupping some water into his hand to drink and wash away the taste of the potion. Reaching up, he ran a hand through his hair, the spikes having gotten a little flat due to his exertion. Once he felt rested enough, he pushed himself to his feet to continue on.

Something scraped over the stone behind him and in a flash, his weapon was back in his hand. Whirling around, he saw nothing in the shadows, letting his eyes trail up to the ceiling as well. Sometimes it never hurt to be too cautious. As his eyes lowered once more, he saw the twin lanterns of a pair of large eyes. Whatever possessed them blinked lazily, the lids shielding the glimmer from his sight.

Sora didn't know what it was, but it was BIG. The eyes of the creature were easily several feet above his head, though they lowered close to the ground as it started to stalk toward him. The slow movement raised the hairs on the back of his neck. This thing was certainly not friendly, that was for sure.

He debated summoning up some help, but given that he knew little to nothing about the creature, he wasn't sure if that was wise. Better to save that ace in the hole for when it was really needed.

While he'd been contemplating, the thing rushed at him. Rolling quickly out of the way, Sora scrambled to his feet, racing alongside it and lashing out with his blade, trying to strike it's body or legs. By the way the thing skittered to try and get away from his assault, it was feeling the hits. Good.

The two sort of circled one another, Sora not truly wanting to get too close and the creature not able to follow him fast enough. Still, he didn't think he could run. He had no idea where he was going and he didn't want to get into a fight in the dark. Racing up on its flank, he swung out again with his blade, grazing it as he hurried by, making quick strikes.

He was near the pool again, the water behind him, the creature in front. He was winded, but from the way the creature was heaving, it wasn't looking so hot either. He allowed himself a little grin. Maybe he could do this after all.

The grin faded as the thing fixed its eyes on him once more. The creature seemed to unhinge its jaw, like a snake would, and Sora saw...something...spilling out of its mouth. It looked like it could have been its tongue, but the end of it was tattered, like fringe. Each little tongue seemed to be moving independently of the others, although one thing was certain, they were all moving for him.

"Yikes!" He barely rolled out of the way again as they lashed out toward him. Getting to his feet, he saw several of the things lancing toward him. Smacking them away with his blade, he tried to turn to race behind the creature again.

As he started to run, though, something clamped around his ankle and jerked him to the ground, keyblade sliding from his grasp. More of the thick ropes wrapped around his arms, hauling him up into the air, another twining around his up-until-then free leg. The way he'd been grabbed, the creature was behind him and he could actually stare down at his own reflection in the water. No surprise that panicked eyes looked back at him.

Struggling against the creature's grip, he summoned the keyblade to his hand again. Unfortunately, given the angle he was held, there was no way he could swing it and do anything more than wave it through the air. The tongue on his wrist tightened rather painfully until he cried out, hand twitching enough to send the keyblade clattering to the ground again.

Is this it, then? Is it going to eat me? That was a rather unpleasant thought that he tried very hard to push from his mind. Still, suspended as he was, by the thing's tongue, no less, it was hard to think anything different. Closing his eyes, he waited to feel those enormous jaws clamping down on him, silent apologies to his friends running over and over in his mind.

For a heartbeat, nothing happened. No teeth. No swallowing. Nothing. It wasn't until he felt something warm and thick gliding over his shoulder that he hazarded opening one eye.

The tip of one of the things tongues had slid over his chest to the front of his shirt. It wriggled beneath the collar, straining at the clasps that held it in place. What on earth was it doing? Did it want the clothes? They were made by the fairies for him, but weren't exceptionally special.

Once they'd been undone, the tongue pulled back, sort of latching onto his collar and jerked his top down. He felt a moment of hope that if it wanted to strip it away, it would have to release his hands. That would give him the opportunity to strike.

The creature, it seemed, though, had other plans. Sora let out a frustrated noise as it ignored further attempts to remove his clothes. If he'd been thinking straight, he would have seen that as a blessing. Instead, his mind was trying to comprehend what exactly the tongues were doing that were sliding gently up and down his chest. He expected them to feel slimy, and yet, instead, they had a warmth to them, slightly rough, but not enough to hurt. Fingers. They were almost like fingers.

Long fingers that wanted nothing more than to tickle over his skin, sending shivers racing along his spine. The feel of it was almost...relaxing...like it wanted to lull him to sleep. First it wants to eat me. Now it wants to tuck me into bed. He almost laughed at his own absurd thoughts.

He felt yet another tongue stroke along his jaw, sliding around to flick at his lips. He made an irritated sound and pulled back, eyes snapping open. The tongue inched forward again and he clamped his lips tightly shut as he felt it trying to push past them. "Mmm-mmm!"

The tongue was insistent but not forceful. It merely kept pressing there, despite his shaking his head or pulling away from it. He felt one brush over his stomach, the tip of it teasing his ticklish skin there. He resisted the urge to blurt out a laugh, biting down on his lip instead. That same one traced along the waist of his pants now, slowly wriggling past it to even more sensitive skin.

Sora started to thrash his hips, not liking how close the creature was to rather warm parts of his body. He could feel more of the things sliding up the backs of his thighs, creeping beneath the legs of his pants. The more he tried to wriggle away from them, the more they wrapped around his legs, holding them fast. The first tongue found what it was looking for, dragging slowly along the length of flesh between his legs. A startled gasp parted his lips, eyes only opening wider as he felt the other tentacle plunge into his mouth.

He tried biting down on it, but the skin around it was too thick. The creature barely noticed, if it did at all. Making frustrated noises, Sora tried pulling away, but the thing just seemed to follow him. Out of options for the moment, he relaxed and the thing started to withdraw. His relief was short lived, though, as it pushed back in, pressing even further than it had before. He nearly choked and it withdrew again, its third plunge not so deep, but still enough to make him fight. What was it doing? What--

Coherent thought left him as he felt the one in his pants wrap around him and then start to pull away almost in the same motion. Lightning coursed up through his body and his hips bucked against the sensation. The creature seemed to like that, since it did it again. Sora groaned and thrashed against his bonds, against the tongues he could feel rubbing his backside as well. Heat started to spill all over his skin, creeping into his muscles, and it felt as though he could barely breathe.

The creature continued to stroke him, coaxing more and more whimpers from his throat. He gasped for air around the one in his mouth, wanting so badly for it to go away so he could just throw his head back and howl. It was the only way he felt he could release the tension he felt building up in his body. Every brush of the creatures tongues over his flesh felt like a streak of fire. He tried keeping still, not moving against them, but it was impossible. His lower body bucked and wriggled, seeking a way from his torment and at the same time, craving more of it.

Without warning, the one his mouth suddenly pulled free, causing him to gasp. Unhindered by flesh now, moans started to pass his lips, little keens that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside of him. They only brought the tiniest bit of relief to his aching body, something craving more, a release from the torment of all the sensations assaulting his skin.

Something warm and wet brushed up his thigh, never hesitating, but taking care to not have much contact with his skin. He jerked at the feeling, then wriggled as the two that had been at his backside pulled him apart.

"Ah! Wha--No! No, don't! Don't do that!" His cries echoed around the cavern as he felt the thing pressing between his cheeks. As he struggled, more of the tentacles came up to wrap around his waist and hold him still. "No! Don't, please! Don't!"

Feeling it press inside of him, he tipped his head back and screamed, tears welling against clamped-shut eyelids. He couldn't breathe, body feeling as though it were being cleaved in two. Another scream caught itself in his throat, choking him on the sound as he feebly pulled at the bonds around his arms and legs.

The sound broke past his lips as the thing continued to push inside of him, the thickness of it filling him almost completely. Once the thing was in further than he thought possible, it stopped. He was barely even aware of the feel of the one at his front, still stroking him. Opening his eyes slowly, he felt his body starting to relax, soft whimpers coming on his breaths as the tension started to leave him.

Just as he'd settled into numbness, he felt the tentacle jerk, pulling out of him slightly and causing his back to arch sharply as he cried out. The sound was immediately muffled by another of the tongues stuffing itself into his mouth. He screamed around it as he felt the lower one pushing back inside of him once more.

The tentacles didn't even seem to see the need to hold him still, or perhaps something about them enjoyed the thrashing of his body. He could feel them plunging in and out of him, above, at his lips, and below. All the while, too, there was the steady stroke of one of them on his shaft, taunting him with the notion that this somehow felt good.

His body was completely covered in sweat and gods knew what else. He could barely keep his eyes open through the intense feelings that rocked his body, making him feel limp as a rag doll. Blinking away a fresh sheen of tears, he glanced down, finding himself still suspended above the water. His reflection stared back at him, pleading for this torture to end. Tired limbs dangled in the creatures hold now, barely even able to put up a show at fighting back.

Please. Please, just stop this...Please stop.

He could feel himself starting to swim into blackness, his body giving up and just allowing itself to be carried through motions. Barely able to roll his head to the side, he glanced down once more, the gasp at what he saw nearly choking him.

You're not that weak, Sora. You can get out of this. His reflection seemed more like his shadow beneath the water, twisting and writhing in a way that didn't match his own body. You just have to be willing to touch that dark place inside of you. The place you buried. Embrace it. Let it help you.

No! No, I don't need the darkness. I don't! I can still--

He almost screamed again as another jolt ran through his body. The tentacle had plunged deeper inside, reaching somewhere it hadn't before, somewhere that stirred a part of him that made his body twitch, ache for more of it.

I'm not giving in to this. I'm not. I--

The tension had started to build and a moan, loud and long, began in the back of his throat. He could feel his back arching of its own free will. It felt as though his body would split from his skin at any second.

I'M NOT GIVING IN!

Dark wisps started to trickle off of his body and he could feel a different kind of tension building, this time in his chest. He had a second to register his reflection's gleaming yellow eyes before a blanket of darkness wrapped around him, leaving nothing but his own howling in his ears.

***

When Sora finally woke up, he found himself curled up next to the pool. The cave seemed brighter for some reason. And warmer. Rubbing his eyes, he sat up slowly and looked around.

"Sora!" came a pair of delighted cries and he found himself wrapped up in feathers and fur.

Sputtering a bit, he managed to pry Donald and Goofy off of him enough to look them in the eyes. "Guys? What are you doing here? I thought--"

"Well," Donald began, "we shtayed, like you told ush. But after a while, we shtarted to get worried. Then we heard this...roaring coming from nearby."

"Uh huh, so we decided to follow the sound," Goofy continued. "And we found a set of stairs, so we made our way down and after a little bit of searchin', we found you here, fast asleep!" He chuckled.

"I...was asleep?" Sora looked around. There was no sign of the Heartless. No sign of the monster. He looked down, finding his clothes a little disheveled, but certainly none the worse for wear.

"And here we thought you'd gotten eaten!" Donald quacked indignantly.

"I'm sorry to have worried you guys." He hugged them again. "I guess that fall took more out of me than I thought."

"It's okay, Sora. We can rest here, if you're still tired. Donald and I know the way out."

"No. No, I think I'd like to get going." He shifted around, kneeling beside the edge of the pool.

"Okay, we'll get our things. You take your time."

"Thanks."

He sighed, watching the two of them break down the camp. Running a hand through his hair, he shook his head. Had it all been just a bad dream? Just a nightmare?

Glancing at his reflection, he reached down for another drink of water before he left. Staring at himself in the water, he gasped, then rubbed his eyes. It had to be a trick of the light or the glint of the fire on the water.

For a brief second, the eyes that had been staring back at him gleamed gold.

[Copper]

Forum says my one post is too long, so I'm putting the "warning" in its own message to try to cut down on that. We'll see if it works.

Edit: Nope. So had to put the last bit in a second post. Hate that. Ah well. Onward to story.

What follows is a a sequel to the one previous. I was just bantering around with the couple therein at one point and this popped out. Of the three, this one is still subject to my fits of editing whenever I reread them. I'm happy with it and at the same time, well, I wouldn't be editing it if I weren't, huh?

**Rated R for non-consensual relations, boycuddling, and maybe language, but I haven't found any yet. Again, no chocobos by default.

[Copper]

"Huuhh!"

Sora was currently pinned to the ground, thick black vines having sprung up and wrapped themselves around his arms and legs, jerking him backward and his limbs apart. The more he struggled, the tighter they wound around him until he was bound, spread-eagle, while more of the vines swayed back and forth over him, as though they were watching him somehow.

Suddenly, several of them shot down, slipping into the loose portions of his clothes and jerking back swiftly. There was the sound of rending fabric and he could see tattered bits of cloth hanging off some of the retreating limbs.

"No. NO!"

Thrashing about as much as he was able, he could still do little to keep the vines from sliding over his bare skin. Two found their way to the patches of pink on his chest, swirling around the nubs enough to make them hard. Another pair were sliding up and down his inner thighs, not yet reaching anywhere intimate, but close enough to make him whimper.

Eyes crossing, he barely caught sight of one hovering in front of his face. He almost voiced a protest, instead, again, clamping his lips shut. The vine was more insistent, though, trying to force its way past. Sora bit down on his lower lip, making a toothy barrier for the thing.

The vines at his chest seemed to be flicking at his nipples. More of them caressed his sides and legs and another slid up his inner thigh, snaking around his shaft, letting him feel the split in the end of it as it moved upward and seemed to envelop the tip within the crease.

Gods help him, it felt good. He wanted to moan from the warmth of it, but the second he opened his mouth, that evil one at his lips...No! He couldn't give in to this. He shouldn't be giving in to this. No matter how it felt.

Still, he couldn't help the pleasured groans that rolled in the back of his throat as the vine around him kept sliding up and down, at times fully engulfing him and others just teasing at the tip. He was biting his lip so hard now that it felt numb. He could have bitten through it and he wouldn't have noticed.

This isn't right. This shouldn't feel good. I-- A moan interrupted his thoughts, his body rebelling against his mind's declaration against the attack. Stop! Ugh! Stop!

A soft voice purred in the back of his mind. We're strong enough to get out of this, you know.

What? You? Go away!

I can help you, Sora. Without me, you're just a sad little boy that has to lie there and take his punishment. But with me, the voice made a sound that matched one of his moans. We're unstoppable.

I'm not giving in to you! I don't need you're help. I-I-...oh gods. Oh, mmph. A deep groan threatened to rip from his throat.

You're going to let yourself go one way or another, Sora. The question is, how much pleasure are you going to get out of it?

While the one vine had been sucking at him, another has been continuously teasing around the spots between his legs until suddenly, he felt his legs being jerked around, opened wider, something pushing up at the small of his back.

You know what's coming next, don't you?

No. No, please. His lip was bleeding from the bite he'd given it to keep from gasping, tears welling in the corners of his eyes.

Just relax, Sora. It'll all be over in a minute.

No. No. No no no...

"NO!"

Thrashing about, doing his best to kick and claw his way free of his covers, Sora sat upright in bed, eyes darting around the room. Rolling over, he flicked on his bedside lamp, the darkness of the room immediately receding.

"Ow." Reaching up, he felt blood on his lip, licking out tentatively to help clear it away. His body felt clammy, even though all he wore were pajama bottoms and his medallion. Drawing his legs up, he propped his elbows on his thighs and ran his hands through his hair with a groan. As he shifted position to that way, a sickening realization hit him: He was hard.

How could I possibly...There's no way I'd...

"Hey, Sora?" a voice called quietly from the door.

He froze, eyes slowly trailing upward. Leon stood there with a brow arched. His hair was ruffled from sleep, body clad in a comfortable shirt and pair of pants. His usual annoyed expression was actually replaced by concern.

"Bad dream," he muttered, averting his gaze and hoping his sheets and clothes were baggy enough to disguise what other kind of dream it was.

"I gathered. Good ones don't make you scream like that. You okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. Just...felt so real, you know?" Don't come closer. Please, don't. I can't--

Prayers unanswered, Leon crossed over to stand by the side of the bed. "Yeah, I know. You sure you're okay? You're looking a little pale under that mop of yours." He ruffled his fingers through Sora's spikes.

Sora shifted away from the gesture. "Stop that. I'm not a kid anymore."

"No, you're not. So why are you acting like you're afraid of the dark?" Now that he could get a good look at him, the older man let out a soft, annoyed noise. Muttering something quietly, he reached out and a white glow sparked from his fingertips to Sora's lips. The bite instantly healed. "Must've been a hell of a dream."

Sora flopped onto his bed and immediately curled up into a ball, pulling his covers over his shoulders. "Bad memories," he mumbled.

"I can understand that. Hey, I know how to get rid of them. Let's head to that Castle. The one you said stole everyone's memories. That'd help, wouldn't it?"

Even though Leon was teasing, Sora's chest tightened with dread. He remembered one thing about Oblivion and that was that memories...came to life. There was no way he was going to let his friends witness-- "No! I mean, no. Once through that place was enough for me, thanks. I don't remember much of it, but I do know I don't want to go back."

"Sora, are you sure you're all right?" Leon lay a hand on his shoulder. Sora flinched and he withdrew it, though that didn't stop him from sitting behind him on the bed. "Aerith always tells me that talking about your dreams helps, you know."

"Not this time."

He could feel Leon shifting, obviously turning to face him better. "It's not just tonight, you know. I've heard you before, too. Kind of hard to miss the screams."

Sora groaned, feeling an embarrassed flush creeping along his skin. He wanted nothing more than to curl up and disappear at that information. "You...the others? Do they--?"

"No," he replied quietly. "My room's closest and Cid's on your other side and he sleeps like a log. But I'm used to picking up on things like that. Was part of my training back home. I know you haven't been sleeping well since you came back from that scouting mission."

That was when...Had it really been only that long ago?

"Sora, did something happen to you guys while you were there?"

He curled up tighter, shaking his head over and over. Behind him, he could hear Leon sigh, and then felt the shift of his body on the bed again.

"I'm going to leave this up to you, Sora. You're not a child." Fingers combed very gently through his hair. "But even adults need a helping hand now and again."

A heartbeat passed and he felt Leon pushing himself off the bed. Sitting up quickly, he wrapped his hands around the other man's arm. He actually had to blink a couple tears away as he gazed up at him. "Do you...think you could stay?"

Weakling.

Sora shivered, ignoring the ice that slid down his spine. "Leon?"

The request earned him one of the man's rare smiles. Turning a bit, he sat back down, drawing a leg up, and facing him. "Yeah, I think I can stick around."

"Thanks." Sora suddenly realized he was still holding onto him and promptly let go, his gaze going to somewhere on the bed in front of him.

He hadn't realized any time had passed until Leon softly cleared his throat. "So, you just want me to stay here? Be a security blanket or something?"

Sora flushed again. "I'm sorry. I...there's just so much running through my mind when all I want to do is just go back to sleep." Except, I'm afraid to do that.

"Want to talk about what's running through that spiky head of yours?"

He slugged the other man in the arm. "If you're going to tease me, I probably should kick you out."

"But I got you to smile."

Obviously he hadn't been doing enough of that lately, especially if King Leon of the Stoics was trying to make that happen. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I just...I can't even sleep. It's like...there's this...thing, this being that's inside me, under my skin. And it...it wants out. But the only time that happens is when...when I'm..." Leon said nothing, raising his brows expectantly. "H-Helpless." Sora finally forced his mouth to form the word.

"Sora, that's a fighter's instinct. I feel it. Cloud feels it. It's that moment when you think you can't go on, that you've given all you can, and then something comes alive inside of you and you find the strength to carry on, even if you thought you couldn't."

The young man shook his head. "No, I...I know that feeling. I..." He just smiled, his heart recalling drawing on his inner strength. "This is different. It's...dark. It doesn't want to help. It just...wants out. And it's...doing things to me to...further that along."

Sora saw the crease in Leon's brow. This was obviously not something that he was familiar with, nor likely very comfortable. "What sort of things is it doing?" He seemed as though he didn't even want an answer to the question.

"My dreams. It..." Sora sighed. "The first time I felt it was on that scouting mission. I got separated from Donald and Goofy. What they don't know is that I ran into a monster Heartless and before I could finish it off, it got the upper hand." Sora stared at his sheets, cheeks burning with the memory of what the monster had been doing. He pinched his eyes shut, ashamed to be feeling tears as he sought to block out the memory.

He straightened as he felt a pair of arms wrap around him. Letting out the breath he'd sucked in, he relaxed, actually feeling safe with Leon's arms around him, not finding the gesture strange at all. Shifting a little to settle in his hold, he did his best to continue his story.

"I thought it was going to eat me, but instead it, well, maybe it was going to eat me, but it sure liked playing with its food first." Despite being in Leon's hold, Sora turned away, starting to regret even bringing the subject up. He hugged his own arms to his chest, feeling chilled again.

"Did it hurt you?" Leon asked quietly.

"Yeah." Sora took several deep breaths, refusing to cry over the memory of such a thing. "It hurt and it...I wanted it to stop. I wanted it to stop and I couldn't even say that much. And that's when the...when I heard this voice, whispering, in the back of my mind. It wanted to help, but something....something wasn't right. I didn't want its help. I wanted to do it on my own, but I just felt so...broken. There was nothing left. Nothing. And then, all I remember was darkness and then waking up when Donald and Goofy found me. And ever since then, I've heard it in my mind. It wants out and it's...it's making me see things, remember things," he swallowed, "feel things just so it can come out and lash out at the world."

"Just in your dreams or does it happen while you're awake, too? Fighting? Or just, even like now?"

"I don't hear it now," Sora replied. "Mostly...Mostly in my dreams. I can sometimes feel it when I fight, but only," he really didn't want to admit this, his words coming out in a mumble, "when I'm losing. But it hasn't come out. It just feels like it's picking at my brain. Taunting me with the memory of what happened. And it...it feels so real. The dreams I've been having. They're just like--" He clammed up, not wanting to admit what happened and certainly not to Leon. He slumped forward a little, the other man's hand just resting on his shoulder.

"You remember the attack," Leon concluded. "That's what it's drawing on. It's still vivid in your mind."

"But why? I hated it!" Sora pulled his knees up to his chest, hugging them. "I couldn't breathe. I couldn't even scream for help. I couldn't...even...sc-scream. I wanted to. It hurt so much and I couldn't even beg it to stop. It just kept...aah." Fresh memories of the Heartless washed over his body, some perverse memory causing his skin to prickle as he remembered the sensations of its tongues all over his body.

A pair of strong arms wrapped around him from behind and he felt the brush of cloth against his back. Leon's hair tickled at his shoulder, the sensation of it brushing over his skin like a splash of cold water. He was suddenly very aware at how warm the two of them were, how close the other man's lips were to his ear.

"I didn't realize how badly it abused you," he whispered. "Such an idiot. Sora, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't see it sooner."

Sora's hands came up, squeezing tight to Leon's, not wanting him to pull away. The apology caught him off guard. It wasn't Leon's fault, so why was he sorry? The only one he could blame was himself, for being weak enough for getting caught in the first place. Everything that had happened, from the attack to the dreams, they were all his fault.

"No." His voice sounded pathetic. It was little more than a mewl, sorrow and self-pity making his throat tight. Ragged breaths seemed in time with the trembling of his body. There was no stopping his tears now. All he could do was wipe at them with the back of his hand.

Pathetic. Look at you. You are right about one thing, though. You're too weak. If it hadn't been for me, that thing would have raped you to death. And now, you keep calling to me. The monsters in your dreams are too scary for poor little Sora to face on his own, so you cry for me, and then you deny it! That's why I let them do those things to you. So you realize just how worthless you are without me.

"Sora, shhh. Shhh. It's all right." A soft voice cut through the shadow's mocking laughter, though the words did little to quell his doubts.

"How? How can it be all right?" He twisted around in Leon's hold, red eyes meeting the man's own worried ones. "After everything that monster did to me, after what I let it do. Tell me how, Leon?"

"Because you're stronger than you think." He reached up, gently brushing away Sora's tears with his knuckle. "And because you're not alone. You've got all of us here that care about you and who wouldn't hesitate to help."

"I can't...I can't tell anyone about this! Gods, what would they think? What would...Kairi. Riku. I can't..."

"No one says you have to tell them. Not now. Not ever. When you feel that you can. You just can't keep it bottled up inside of you, Sora. It'll eat at your gut, your heart, and destroy you."

"I already feel like it has," he sighed. "The dreams...the voice. If only I'd been strong enough in the first place."

"You can be strong now. And if you don't think you can, then you've got me. My blade's always at your side, Sora. You know that, don't you?" He reached up, brushing some of Sora's hair away from his eyes.

Sora wrapped his arms around the other man. It just felt good to have something solid to hold onto, something warm, after everything he'd gone through, body and mind. "My dreams," he said softly. "You can't protect me there."

"Just watch me." There was a touch of his usual cockiness in Leon's voice and yet, the arms that settled around Sora's back were gentle, almost hesitant now. Sora hugged him tighter and he seemed to gain a bit of confidence. "Any time you need me, Sora, all right?"

"Would...would now be an okay 'any time'?" he asked softly.

"I was hoping you'd ask that."

Sora untangled his covers and pulled them up. It was a bit of a snug fit, but Leon stretched out beside him, offering his arm for a pillow. Resting his head on Leon's shoulder, Sora let out a sigh and allowed his eyes to close. Reaching over, Leon flicked the light off, blanketing the two of them in darkness once more.

That darkness, though, seemed to come alive around him, twisting about until it formed a mockery of his own visage.

"You think he can help you?" it hissed. "All he can give you is pity! Pity at how weak you are. Crying on his shoulder!" The shadow rolled its neck, yellow eyes flashing at him. "Does the keyblade master want a bedtime story next?"

"Go away!" Sora growled. "I don't need you. I'll never need you! No matter what you say!"

"Tch tch tch. You can't get rid of me any more than you could rip out your own heart, Sora. I live inside of you, whether you like it or not." His shadow-self seemed to take on a liquid form, sliding over to wrap around his legs and torso, arms hugging his chest from behind. He felt its teeth nip near his ear. "I'll always be here, no matter what you do. I know you'll give in again. One of these days."

Sora tried to punch it over his shoulder but it slid away, laughing. "Once upon a time, there was a sad little boy, who didn't have anybody to play with..."

"Shut up!" He was torn. Part of him wanted to chase after it but another part warned that he should hold his ground here. Regardless, he reached out, letting his keyblade flash into his hand.

"And he got lost in the deep, dark woods." Around him, trunks and shrubs started to take form, still more shadow than anything else. "But what he didn't know was that waiting there, to gobble him up, was a big...bad...WOLF!"

Sora spun around, just as a dark shape sprang at him. He rolled out of the way, watching the creature pick itself up from its failed pounce, growling at him and showing a row of gleaming, jagged teeth.

Just a wolf. Just another monster. I don't need to be afraid of it.

Silly boy, don't you know wolves always come in packs? Mocking laughter filled the woods around him.

As he faced down the wolf that was now stalking toward him, a ripple passed through the creature's body and suddenly, it became two, then four, then eight. Still, Sora held his ground, eyes flicking around to each one, waiting to strike or dodge, pending on their attacks.

Finally, one of them leapt at him and he met it with his blade, feeling the weight of it pushing against him as he shoved it away. It rolled once and was back up, joining the others in tightening around him. For being a pack, they weren't attacking him as such. It seemed more like they wanted to keep him surrounded than bring him down, only one leaping or snapping at him. Thankfully, that made it easier to fight them off, but he also seemed to be losing ground. Every time he backed up, they'd advance further, herding him through the trees. If he didn't think they'd chase him down, he'd have tried bolting through them instead.

He wasn't worried until he suddenly felt his back bump into one of the larger trees. Quelling a wave of panic, he realized they now wouldn't be able to come at him from all directions, just the front. Grinning a bit, he held the keyblade at the ready and waited for their next move.

It never came. Instead, he heard a soft slither of a sound and glanced up with just enough time to see a creature peering down at him from the branches of the tree. Thick vines looped around his arms and waist, pulling him back against the bark and hauling him a few feet off of the ground.

Stupid, stupid! he chastised himself. I'm not giving in that easily. Not this time.

"Oh, but you should." The wolves had vanished, solidified into his shadow form, which now stood, arms crossed, and, if he had to guess, grinning at him. "You know what's going to happen next, don't you?"

A frond tickled at his cheek and he let out a disgusted sound, making sure to not spit back an insult, no matter how badly he wanted to. He still held onto his keyblade, but there seemed to be more vines than he could even hope to cut away. Already they were starting to caress his chest, two more wrapping around his flailing legs.

"I can't decide which I like more. Watching you struggle, or watching you give up." Mirth gleamed in the golden eyes that raked up his body. A black tongue slid along a line of ivory teeth, the only other thing standing out aside from his shadow's eyes.

Sora glared, barely biting back his retort, the stroke of a vine near his chin snapping him back to his predicament. He did his best to keep his breathing even, trying hard to ignore the soft brush of leaves against him. Still, the light brushes against his skin were getting harder and harder to ignore, each one making him shiver.

Closing his eyes, he tried to take his mind elsewhere, tried to think of how to break free. At that thought, though, the bindings at his limbs immediately tightened. The fronds that were brushing up and down his chest pushed their way past the waist of his pants, returning to the motion as they reached his thighs.

"Stop," he growled through grit teeth, though there was still a touch of a groan in his voice.

The plant, of course, didn't listen, more and more vines sliding over his skin. Sora could feel the heat of his embarrassment scoring his face. That his shadow was watching this, getting pleasure out of it. He could even hear the thing chuckling, the sound rather low and throaty.

Wait. Heat...

Spinning the keyblade in his hand, he pointed the tip of it upward. "Firaga!" Focusing his rage through the weapon, a plume of fire erupted from the end of it, shooting upward and washing over the body of the creature above him. It shrieked in pain, the vines recoiling so suddenly that Sora didn't even have time to catch himself as he tumbled to the ground.

Shaking his head, he found that he was staring at a pair of black feet. His gaze continued upward as he slowly raised himself up to his knees. He was met with a sneer and a pair of murderous gold eyes.

"Think you're so clever?" The shadow lashed out, grabbing him by the throat before he had a chance to dodge. He was hauled to his feet, the thing's other hand grasping at his wrist to keep him from swinging the keyblade. "All you've done is made things worse for yourself."

The grip at his neck tightened and Sora began to choke, finding it hard to struggle against the shadow's hold. Flashes of white light started to dance before his eyes, yet he fought to remain conscious. He was afraid of what would happen if he lost this fight.

"You gloat too much."

Suddenly, there was the sing of metal cutting through the air and a rumble like thunder that filled the clearing. The shadow's head snapped forward, almost butting into his own and it immediately melted away. Sora fell to the ground, coughing and gasping for air.

"You okay, kid?"

Sora picked his head up, finding Leon reaching out a hand to him. He couldn't get to his feet fast enough, wrapping his arms around the other man. "Leon, you..."

"Just cleaning up the mess." His arms wrapped around Sora in a light embrace. "You're the one that got yourself free."

"You saw?" Sora suddenly felt heat rising to his cheeks again.

"Only the fire," Leon assured him. "It's what showed me where you were. Thought you might need a hand with the other creature, though."

"Thank you," he whispered. "But...how are you here? Not that I'm not grateful, it's just--"

"I learned a trick or two from a friend back home. I don't use it much, though."

"I'm glad you did."

"I told you I'd always watch out for you," he said softly.

Still hugging him tightly, Sora nodded. "And you kept your promise." He tipped his head up, finding his eyes meeting Leon's. "Think we can get out of here? Somehow?"

[Copper]

Leon grinned. "I think that's easy. Just wake up."

Wake up...Wake up..."Sora, wake up."

"What?" He started, eyes snapping open and finding himself staring at Leon's chest. He quickly pushed himself up, squinting now as the sun filtered in through the window. "Leon?"

"You were expecting me to leave? Especially after you pinned me down?" He chuckled.

"I didn't--" Sora realized his arm was across Leon's stomach. He cleared his throat and twisted around, sitting up.

"How'd you sleep?" Leon reached up, gently rubbing the small of his back.

"Weren't you there?" Sora's brows pinched, looking over at him. "You said you had a trick you could do."

Leon shook his head. "That's nothing I ever learned. My big sister, maybe, but not me."

Then it was his doing. Even though he'd seen Leon, it was still his own mind, his own heart, that had drawn on the ability to beat back his shadow. He'd done it once and he could do it again in the future. Still, it had taken opening up, trusting his friend, to give him the strength that he needed. Settling back down, he wrapped his arm around Leon's waist again. "You still helped, though. Thank you."

The other man didn't seem to mind, fingers toying gently through his hair. "Any time you need me, Sora. Any time."

[Copper]

((Wrote this one on a whim. It's based off of three things: A line from Zevran's trailer, aspects of the City Elf origin story, and a little tidbit I read about taking a relationship path with Zevran in Dragon Age. As I have yet to add the smexy Spanish elven assassin to my party, there is the chance that this has the potential to be entirely out of character, but it's fanfic and if they can have Alistair and Zev having wild monkey sex, I can have a romantic killer, dammit.
**Rated, eh, PG? R? For sexual situations and probably language that I can't remember using. Also, could be considered to contain spoilers for the City Elf origin story, female route.))

Assassin’s Honor

"I'm not one of your whores, Zevran, so knock. It. Off."

The Antivan felt a rough shove at his chest and he knew without looking that there was a blade in the hand that hadn't been doing the pushing. Lilyana wasn't as dexterous as he - in his mind, no one was - but she had the reflexes of one who'd been trained to use her speed and slightness, not her strength, and there was no doubt in his mind that if he went in for another kiss, her dagger would puncture something he'd rather keep whole.

He repressed his sigh until she finally turned and stalked away from him. He never should have let that comment slip. It had been meant to be a compliment, really, about how refreshing he found her. Instead, she'd mistaken his intentions, been offended by them. He really should have known better. The lot of his fellow elves here in the Fereldan cities wasn't exactly the most idyllic. His upbringing hadn't been the best, either, and that should have reminded him of what hardships she might have had to face. He prided himself on being able to say what others wanted to hear, to be charming enough to get them to let their guard down.

Running a hand through his hair, he sighed again. He was going to have to smooth this over if he wanted to keep the tension down in the camp. The others already didn't trust him as it was and if their leader were on edge around him, they likely would be, too. Glancing around, he let his eyes scan over the camp, seeking her out in the shadows beyond the fire-light.

Too late. She'd already gone running to Alistair. The Templar stood with one arm around her shoulders, speaking quietly to her. As Zevran saw the man's eyes raise, he shrank back into the shadows. He didn't feel like being glared at tonight, especially not by him.

At first, he'd thought the two were lovers. They seemed to share an intimacy that was lacking amid the rest of the group but he soon attributed that to their being Wardens. A few careful barbs here, a joke there, and he would bet his mother's soul that for all his posturing and protecting, Alistair had never once taken Lily to his bed, nor, for that matter, any woman.

Lily, on the other hand, he wasn't sure of. She could duel with him as easily with her tongue as her blades. That was part of the reason he was so attracted to her. It wasn't often that he found a woman, let alone an elf woman, that could hold her own against a man the way she did.

Tread lightly, Zev, he reminded himself. It's the subtlest knife that makes the cut.
*
Another night at camp and the elf had been weighing his options carefully. None of them seemed overly promising in his mind, so it was simply a matter of picking which poison he intended to use to end his existence.

As he saw it, he had two choices and neither one was rather appealing. There was a third, true, but he foresaw that trail growing cold rather quickly. And a fourth, if you counted the small pony that Lilyana claimed was a dog, but that might only get him more looks than usual.

Sitting alone by the fire, he slowly scraped a whetstone over his dagger, wanting to keep it in fine condition, should they meet more darkspawn on the road again. Several of the group were casting him glances but he did his best to ignore them. Let them stare. Sten did the same damn thing and he wasn't subject to the same scrutiny. He was merely making sure he was prepared.

The repetitiveness of his task helped him to clear his mind and think of all that he wanted to know and how best to gather that information. Back to his choices.

Alistair. No. The Grey Warden didn't trust him as far as he could throw him, and with that build, he could probably chuck him pretty far. That, and the Wardens were a secretive bunch. Any other time he would commend their camaraderie and brotherhood, but not this time. Not when he was seeking information behind closed ranks.

You could always ask the lady directly.

He shook his head at that thought, too. He wasn't sure how to ask all of the questions that were swirling around in his mind, and if it's one thing that he'd learned very quickly it was that you didn't go into a mission to gather information half-cocked. He'd already proven once that she flustered him. He didn't feel like repeating the performance.

That left him with only one other option. Sighing, he slid the dagger into the sheath where it belonged, stowed the whetstone, and used that as an excuse to lazily stroll around the fire to where an older woman sat with a book on her lap, hunched close to the flames as she read.

He knew Wynne wasn't cold, so she had to be doing only one other thing: trying to squeeze a few more lines from her book before the embers died down completely. For someone of her age, it was rather childish seeming, and yet, he knew her passion for books.

Clearing his throat, he was rewarded with a sharp look. She tried to seem as though she wasn't paying attention, but he knew she was listening.

"May I sit, Wynne?"

"I can't fathom why you must." She put her attention back on her book, turning a page he knew she wasn't done reading.

Still, it wasn't a 'no' and so he sat down on the log, careful to keep some distance between himself and the mage. He let silence settle between the two of them once again before drawing in breath to speak. "I understand you were at Ostagar."

"For good or ill."

"So you...had the chance to meet our Wardens, before they..." He wanted to put this delicately. "Before the battle," he settled on.

"Briefly. Alistair only saw fit to come around when he wanted to harass the mages...or the Revered Mother wanted him to."

"And Lilyana?"

"She wasn't a Warden when I met her. She'd yet to go through the Joining. Duncan brought her to the camp and then...turned her loose. Such was his way. She greeted me and we spoke briefly, but that was all."

"What of the Joining?"

Wynne shrugged. "I know little. I only know that there were three recruits that Duncan brought with him and Lilyana was the only one to join him and Alistair later."

The elf said nothing, contemplating the woman's words. He hadn't realized the stretch of silence between the until he heard the soft thump of her book snapping shut.

"You're being curious and you're being polite. That means you're worrying me, Zevran."

He bowed his head slightly. "I simply wish to understand our leader's motivations a bit more."

"With that, I wish you luck. Things are rarely so simple as they appear to be."

"How right you are." He hesitated a moment. "Thank you," he breathed quietly before pushing himself to his feet.

*
"If you're going to learn to do this properly, you're going to have to get over any hang ups that you might have." Zevran crossed his arms, arching a brow as Lilyana stood there glaring at him.

"I fail to see what...that has to do with what you're trying to teach me."

"My dear, it has everything to do with it. Come, attack me. You're the assassin, I'm your mark. Kill me." He tried not to make those last two words sound like an invitation, especially given her mood at the moment.

Watching her, he could see her putting to use what he'd already taught her, coupled with the skills that she already possessed. Still, he knew when she was lunging at him and dodged easily to the side, making a 'tsk' sound at her attempt. "Good, good, but now, allow me." Stepping up to her, he brushed a finger at her cheek, though she jerked away from him. "Lilyana, for the sake of the lesson, please. Try not to find me so repulsive, hmm?"

She heaved a sigh and shook out her arms, trying to relax. Still, when he touched her again, she still felt guarded. This wasn't going to do at all, not for what he was trying to show her.

"I think I know what the problem is. You’re not used to being kissed, is that it?” She scowled at him. “It can be quite pleasant, you know.” He put a touch of a tease in his voice. “There have been evenings where that’s been the only pleasure my partner and I have enjoyed.” Of course, he wasn’t going to elaborate and say just where some of the kisses had landed, but his willingness to take his flirting no further than that seemed to put her at ease. "Come sit with me. Let me show you."

He held out a hand to her, having to wait a heartbeat or two before she slid her fingers on top of his. Guiding her over to a nearby tree, he settled down, urging her to sit beside him. "There's nothing improper about kissing, no matter what any Chantry biddies may have told you." He chuckled. "It's nothing but warmth and tenderness." For now, he brushed his lips over the back of her hand, nibbling at her knuckles and just watching her from under his eyelids. He wanted her to get used to his touch.

Turning her hand, he began nibbling on her fingertips and he was rewarded with a soft bap on his nose. "That tickles."

He laughed softly. "I'll take my attentions elsewhere, then." Keeping one hand held gently in hers, he brought the other up, just stroking her cheek with the backs of his knuckles, moving down toward her neck as well. Brushing her hair back, he curled his fingers at the nape of her neck, just holding her there, letting her grow used to it. To distract her, he brought her other hand up, kissing at her fingers again.

"That still tickles." There was a touch of nervousness in her voice, her breathing just the slightest bit quicker.

"You've gentle hands, then," he murmured. Lowering their hands, he waited until her eyes turned up from following the gesture. Leaning in slowly, his eyes lid as he let his lips brush against her cheek, warm from the flush he'd begun to cause there. A trail of kisses brought them back to her ear and he felt a shiver run through her as he lightly trailed his tongue along the shell of it. Nipping gently at the lobe, he began working his way downward, tonguing at the soft spot by her jaw, then lower, nibbling gently and letting his teeth graze faintly at her neck.

"Zevran." He felt a slight push at his shoulder.

"Mmm, ticklish again?"

"Yes."

"Hmm. I'll have to find somewhere that you're not, then." He pecked a few kisses along her jaw and stopped at her chin, drawing back just enough to gaze at her. Leaning in, he brushed his lips over hers, feeling the soft huff of a breath she let out as he did so. Catching her lower lip between his own, he tugged gently, suckling on it before leaning in and capturing her mouth with his in earnest this time.

Instead of a knife to his ribs, he was rewarded with a soft sound, her lips parting slowly at his urging so he could slip his tongue into her mouth, her own brushing out and dueling breathlessly with his. As their kissing grew more heated, he silently thanked the Maker he'd insisted on them training without their armor. This wouldn't feel as good if his hand were skimming over leather or hers was pressed to chain.

Still holding on to her, he slowly began to draw back, easing the two of them down so that his back was pressed against the earth, allowing her to lay on top of him. Shifting around a little, he urged her to settle comfortably against him, forcing himself to ignore the press of her hips to his, focusing solely on the feel of his tongue stroking against hers, the feel of her lips, chapped from the wind, from a life unaccustomed to the pampering that would make them delicate. At this moment, he could care less. Petal lips didn't suit Lily and it was one of the things that endeared her to him. True, lying as they were, there was no denying she was a woman, but it was that tiny sensation that reminded him just what kind of woman she was.

A sharp nip drew him out of his reverie and he sucked in a breath, stifling a curse when he caught sight of her panicked eyes. Instead of the sharp words he was certain she was expecting, he let out a soft laugh. "Gently now," he murmured. "Like this." Cupping her cheek again, he nibbled gently on her lip, the soft groan he caused enough to make him want to plunge his tongue back into her mouth.

Gently now, he reminded himself. Maker, but he couldn't remember the last time he'd just savored his partner like this. It truly was intoxicating. Drawing back, he cupped her cheek, just letting his thumb brush over the pink there, the flush he'd caused, kissing her. Why was that thought so important? So gratifying?

"Zevran! Lilyana!" Leliana's lilting voice called out through the trees, shattering the moment. "Time for supper, you two!"

Lily's lips parted, as though to say something, but it was clear the bard was getting closer. She quickly pushed herself back and rocked to her feet, running a hand through her hair in an attempt to smooth it. "Coming!" she hollered, glancing back at him once before retreating back toward camp.

The assassin himself had no real choice but to remain there for a few moments, reciting various litanies over in his mind to calm the heat that had risen up in his blood. As he sat up, it was then he realized that he'd left his dagger sitting on the grass beside them. His intention all along had been to give her a poke with it, to drive home the lesson as to just how useful kissing could be.

Picking up the weapon, he stuffed it back in the sheath were it belonged. "Distracting indeed," he muttered to himself, shaking his head and making his way back toward the camp.

*
Zevran could only stand the feeling of eyes boring into his head for so long. Subtly working a dagger from his belt, he swiftly spun around and was rewarded with a startled squawk as it found its mark, buried in the trunk of a tree beside a nosy templar.

There was the grate of steel as Alistair began to pull his blade free of its sheath. Zevran's hand went to his own blade, though he didn't draw, not wanting to give his opponent reason to take a swing at him.

"I don't take kindly to being spied on."

"I don't take kindly to being threatened."

"How was I to know you weren't a darkspawn?" He flashed the other man a disarming grin.

"Because I'm not trying to eat your face off."

Making a barb as what Alistair could eat would only piss the man off more, so the elf wisely kept his tongue in check. "You weren't even trying to hide from me, so what is it that you want?"

Alistair looked put off. Maybe he had been trying to hide and just didn't excel at it. "I'm making sure you don't try anything funny."

Zevran gave him a reproachful look. "I was heading off to bathe. If I'd known you wanted to keep an eye on me, I'd have invited you along."

Whoops. There was the sword. The Antivan took a couple steps back, actually holding his hands up in surrender. "And you just happened to set off just after Lily did?"

The elf blinked. He hadn't even realized the other Warden wasn't in the camp. Not that her knight protector would believe that, of course. Still, it was worth a try.

"Pure coincidence, I assure you." He kept his hands up still. "If she's there, that's all you need to say. I'll wait for her to return, then."

Alistair was still glaring at him and he didn't dare try to walk back toward the camp. There was still six-foot of Fereldan between him and the fire, not to mention three more feet of steel. "What are you after?"

Zevran arched a brow. It wasn't like Alistair to be this direct. "With regard to--?"

"Lily. Us. This whole situation." He gestured absently with the hand not gripping his sword.

He let out a sigh. "You don't trust me, so I doubt you'd believe me."

"Try me."

"I'm trying to make her happy." Before the other man could rebut him, he continued. "She needs someone, Alistair, and while you and Leliana and Wynne make fine friends, there is something to be said for," he paused, considering his words rather carefully in the face of the Templar, "having someone you can rely on for companionship."

Alistair gave a derisive snort. "You simply aim to bed her."

"Jealous?"

"No!" The reply came rather quickly and Zevran arched a brow, carefully keeping the smirk off of his lips. "She's...a friend. And a fellow Warden. I--what?"

"She should be pleased to have such a champion." Zevran carefully schooled his face, doing his best to remove the grin that had formed. The outburst had been too much. "You, more than anyone, I want to understand this, Alistair. Yes, I do wish to...share intimate pleasures with Lilyana, but I've come to find it has to be on her terms, no one else's. I have been trying to reign in what I've been trained to do and find out what it is that she wants me to do."

The good news was that the other man was no longer threatening him with his sword. The bad news was that he looked as though he were about to get some sort of lecture on propriety or respect or, Maker forbid, chastity.

"If you intend to do this, if you truly want this, then you are going to have to be prepared to accept everything about her. Being a Warden is more than a title, it's a whole different way of life. Are you prepared to accept that aspect, too, Zevran?"

"You speak as though I know nothing of being part of something you can't just walk away from."

"It's different than your assassins. True, they may not like it if you leave, but you can still leave. Being a Warden is who we are. What we are. She can't simply stop because something better comes along."

He'd never seen such a serious expression on the young man's face. He seemed almost in mourning but it wasn't self-pity. There was regret there, but as for what, he couldn't truly place it. All he could do was offer his assurances, flimsy as they might seem.

"Then let me make her happy, Alistair. In this world, in this time, where we never know if the coming sunrise will be our last, let me give her something that can bring her peace, even if it's only for a moment. She deserves it, doesn't she?"

The other was very quiet and Zevran had just relaxed when suddenly, Alistair's blade swung upward, level with his eyes. "If you hurt her, I swear by the Maker, by Andraste, by all that's holy that I will show you your heart before you die."

Taking a step back, Zevran chuckled, smiling as he bowed his head. "I would expect nothing less."

The blade lowered and he took a couple steps back, dislodging the knife from the tree and turning its handle out to pass to the assassin. "Then you'd better know just what you're getting yourself into. Come with me."

[Copper]

*
They were finally at an inn. A solid roof over their heads, a filling meal that didn’t have to be caught and cleaned by one of them first, nor, thank the Maker, prepared by Alistair in an attempt to call it food, and the most wondrous blessing of all: private rooms with proper beds.

It had taken a bit of flirting, a bit of whispering, and a bit of Leliana distracting the others for him, but he'd finally convinced...no, he'd asked Lily if he could join her for the evening. He could tell by her gaze she knew what he was really asking and for the span of six heartbeats - he'd counted - she'd considered the question. The two of them managed to slip away from the table unnoticed, save for the soft whimper of her Mabari.

The door to her room was locked. That alone spoke volumes of the trust she was showing him. Standing behind her, he murmured endearments and promises, his fingers dexterously undoing the straps and small plates of her armor, working to her under-clothing next, letting his hands massage gently over each bit of skin he uncovered. He took delight in feeling her relax beneath his touch, in each soft sound she breathed out as his lips brushed near her throat and ear.

Feeling her hands sliding back to find him, he smiled, moving back a half-step so she could turn around and undress him in a similar manner. Occasionally, he would reach up, not to guide her hand but to give the two of them contact, to assure her the gentle words he'd spoken were true.

Now both naked, he drew her into his arms, letting the warmth of their bodies mingle together while they shared the breath of their kisses. Backing her up slowly, he laughed softly at her surprised sound when her legs bumped into the mattress. Easing her down and letting her scoot back, he crawled up the bed beside her, settling where his lips could easily reach all of the places he'd learned she enjoyed having nibbled and his hand could skim up and down her side.

He felt fingers twine in his own, tugging him a little closer. His compliance was rewarded with a kiss. "Zevran," her words were very faint, "you know I've never--"

His brows arched. "You're so very confident. I wasn't sure, you know." He flashed her a smile, leaning in for another kiss. "You honor me, Lilyana. For that, I promise you will not regret trusting me."

Her hands came up, skimming over his back, fingers moving to twine into his hair. "I know I won't," she whispered, pulling his lips down to meet hers.

A good hours worth of kissing and cuddling and massaging later, Zevran's lips brushed lightly down the tight skin of Lily's throat. Her head was thrown back and a moan escaped her lips, in no small part thanks to his fingers, which were now stroking and teasing at the warmth between her legs.

The assassin continued the motion, his free hand helping him to shift his weight as he continued downward, nipping at her collar bone and leaving a trail of kisses down her chest until he reached the firm bud that shifted with each heave of her breathing.

Letting her hips writhe and squirm, he took her nipple into his mouth, sucking gently on it and letting his tongue swirl and flick in circles, his mind already imagining taking his attentions even lower. He had to suppress a chuckle, wondering what she'd think of that, given how she was reacting to his touch.

The grip of her hand at his hair only encouraged him and he let out a few sounds that he hoped would cause the same reaction in her. He felt himself being pulled roughly into a kiss, something breathless that was peppered with gasps. Taking care to time it at the moment when she drew them together, he slid a finger inside of her and swallowed the high moan that she let out.

Keeping close to her, he could feel her breath hot against his lips and cheek, her nails, slight as they were, were actually digging into his scalp as she gripped at him. Her back arched from the mattress and she wriggled further, all the while with him tending her and trying to set a rhythm to the erratic motions.

She let out a sound and there was a different feel to her movement, almost a thrash. "Z-ev...st-op." He could feel her clutching at him, one hand sliding down, trying to grasp at his other arm.

"You have to trust me, Lil," he cooed softly in her ear. “I promised, didn’t I?”

"I--" She groaned, her hips wriggling more, her ankle scraping at the blanket. "Stop. Please, stop."

What was worrying her was probably the tension of her impending orgasm, something he could feel in the warmth around him. But tonight was about trust and the lady had ordered him to stop.

She let out another noise, hard to place between relief and disappointment. He could feel her hands on him, pushing at his chest, pulling his hair. Anything to get him off of her.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, he rolled onto his back, cushioning his head with one arm, the other draped over his stomach. He was resisting the urge to let it slide lower. Her reluctance caused more than one form of frustration in him, but this wasn't the time or place to remedy that. Sliding his gaze to the side, he found that she'd rolled over, head pillowed on her elbow, the other arm draped over her stomach.

"Lil..." He rolled over and laid a hand on her shoulder. She flinched and he drew his hand away. "I don't understand you," he stated rather frankly, wincing as soon as the words came out of his mouth.

"Then maybe you should stop trying."

"Lilyana," even he was surprised by the reproachful tone in his voice, "I have been patient. I like to think I have done nothing that would give you a reason not to trust me. I thought I could even be fine if you just wanted to fuck me and be done with it, but this...You're not even using me." His laughter held no mirth in it.

"I thought that would be a happy thing. Not having your body used for once."

"So would I. But there's that little underlying reason of why." No answer, though he noticed the subtle shifting of her back. "Do you not want to bed me?"

"I don't know."

He let out another laugh. "That's a less than definite answer. Were you just planning on using me and then found that you fell madly in love and can't bear the thought of discarding me so?" He tried to put a touch of saccharine in his words.

"No."

"No, you weren't planning on it or no, you're not in love with me."

"Do you ever stop talking?"

"Not when it concerns my well-being. Lilyana," he softened his tone, reaching out to her again, feeling that same tension. Instead of pulling away this time, he carefully rolled to spoon behind her, taking care to not let the hold get too intimate. "Please talk to me. I...don't like to see you suffering. I promised I'd make you happy, didn't I?" How unlike him, being at such a loss for words and at the same time, finding that he meant every one that passed his lips.

"I'm scared."

"I gathered that." He brought his hand up, gently stroking her dark hair. "You needn't be. A good lover can make you forget all about that."

"Idiot," he heard her mutter and it made him laugh softly.

"I only want to let you forget everything for a while." He let his lips brush at the nape of her neck. "You're allowed to be selfish once and a while, Warden."

He could feel her shaking her head, barely feel the tremble in the body that was pressed to his. "I can't forget."

"Is it the dreams? Alistair...warned me that--"

"No. I can't forget him."

Him? Now this was opening some doors. "Of whom do you speak?" Silence. "Lilyana?" He combed his fingers through her hair again.

"My husband."

Ice washed over him as swiftly as if Morrigan had been standing there, invoking the spell. "Then the ring you wear...?" He'd seen it, but until that moment, he'd taken it for mere decoration. It was a simple little thing, nothing like the adornments he'd seen her trade with some of the shopkeepers. He figured for her to have kept it, it would have at least been enchanted in some way.

"He...never had the chance to give it to me." Her arm shifted and he could tell she had brought her hand to her mouth, hearing the sobs she was desperately trying to mute.

His hold shifted and he drew her back against his chest, hugging her rather than simply embracing. His lips brushed against her ear, no heated coaxing in his words, but instead, soft murmurs of comfort. "Darkspawn?" he asked quietly.

She shook her head, that only seeming to prompt more tears. Cursing himself for a fool, he simply rocked gently with her in his arms. So brash was their leader. Though he'd often joked one could never forget, what with the way she looked, they did sometimes forget that Lilyana was still a woman.

He wasn't going to ask. She was upset enough as it was and though he wanted to help stop whatever caused her tears, it wasn't his place to ask. If she didn't want to tell him, he could live with the curiosity. It seemed, though, Lilyana was adept at reading his thoughts.

"He died the day of our wedding," she began in a quiet voice. "The Arl...his son had brought us all to the manse, locked us away to be "entertainment" for him and his guests. Nelaros came with my cousin to rescue us, but he was no warrior. The guards, they..." She grew quiet again, the trembling increasing. "Maker watch over him," he heard her breathe out.

"To do such a thing, he must have truly loved you."

"But we didn't even know each other!" He could hear the crack in her voice. "It was arranged. We...he was...I didn't even want to...not at first and then...Oh, why did he have to be so eager?" The question came out with a pained sound to it. "Stupid fool should have come when he was supposed to! Then he wouldn't be dead!"

She turned around in his hold, burying her face against his chest. The other elf's arms settled around her, just holding her, rubbing her back, and doing nothing to stop the tears. She needed this. Maker knew how long, but she needed this. From what he'd been told, he likely suspected she hadn't been given time to grieve properly. And then to face Ostagar so soon after...

"Lil?" They both started at the sound of Alistair's voice outside. "Everything all right?" His voice was touched with hesitation, but it was clear he wasn't leaving without an answer. "Seraun's seeming awfully anxious."

Though she and the hound were imprinted, there was no way to read his mistress' moods through the beast. Maker knew he would have done so several times if he'd had that little trick at his disposal. Still, he couldn't fault the boy for his intrusion, not this time.

"It's all right, Alistair," she called, her voice sounding steady despite the tears he could still see running down her cheeks. "I'm...It's all right."

Zevran heard the other man hesitate and then the slight sound of him turning to go. "I'm just next door if you need me, then."

Reaching up, the blonde brushed away one of the wet trails that cut down her cheek. "If you want to go to him--"

"No. No, it's all right. I...don't want to leave." She settled down into his hold again, pillowing her head against his arm, hers slipping around his side to hug at his back. "And I don't want you to leave, either."

"Then here I stay," he murmured softly, letting his own hold settle comfortably around her once more, doing his best to keep her warm and soothe the shivers that still ran through her. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Zev?"

"About your husband. About making you remember. I wanted tonight to be perfect for you and instead, I seem to have led it astray."

"It's all right. There will be other nights."

He blinked, brows raising. "There will?" He tried to keep the hope out of his voice.

"Yes. I want...you to help me forget. Not him," she added, the words coming out quickly, "but I want to forget the pain."

"I'll do my best," he whispered, laying a gentle kiss on her lips. "You have my word."

[Copper]

((This is a bit of humor I wrote up after reading about following a Zev romance and inspired just a wee bit from another fanfic I read about the same time. Rohn, in this instance, is a male Dalish. Rated PG-13 for adult situations.))

Claiming the Warden

"Just relax and trust me, Warden. I've done this countless times before."

Leliana paused near the flap of Rohn's tent, not expecting to hear Zevran's voice filtering out from it. Her brows pinched at the shuffling she picked up from within.

"Really?" There was a touch of mirth mingled with the Warden's skepticism. "And just how many men have you done this with, exactly?"

"How many men or how many others?" the Antivan teased.

"I should have expected that."

There was a tsk-ing sound from within. "You should know by now that I never kiss and tell."

A bark of a laugh, followed by a grunt. "Right, right. But you know, I would prefer knowing I was doing this with someone with a little more experience. Might make me feel better."

"As I said before, just relax and let me do what I do best. Besides killing people." The Crow laughed.

"Lel--"

Turning sharply, the bard brought a finger to her lips and waved Morrigan to silence. The witch crossed her arms and arched a brow, curious as to why the Orlesian was crouched outside their leader's tent. Her footfalls made no sound as she approached, looking to the other woman for answers, though she found them more in the voices from within.

"You're telling me that you sat through them marking your face like that, with naught a whimper, or so you claim, and now you're balking at the thought of me doing this?"

"There's a bit of a difference, Zev. My blood writing is a part of me brought to the fore. What you've in mind, well, our bodies aren't exactly made for that, now are they?"

"You'd be very surprised at what bodies can be put through and still enjoy. Now, are you going to stop stalling?"

"Who says I'm stalling?"

"I do. And now, if you're done being a coward, perhaps we can move on to more pleasant things?"

"You're lucky you're on top of me or I'd stab you for that."

"Tease."

The two women exchanged a look, both seeming to know they really shouldn't be eavesdropping and yet, there was something about the banter that compelled them to remain. Morrigan listened with a bemused expression while Leliana crouched there, brows arched, with an almost expectant look on her face.

From within, Rohn let out a surprised gasp, the sound almost immediately muffled, either by him or Zevran, it wasn't possible to tell. By the fact that the Antivan was still speaking, Rohn was exercising a good bit of Dalish stoicism.

"All right," Zevran's voice was uncharacteristically gentle. "That's the first step. Are you all right? Do you want me to stop?"

"No." The shaky word came out through grit teeth. "Keep going."

"All right. Another push, then."

And another groan from the Warden. "Zev..."

"Shhh. Almost there. Almost....Ah!"

Rohn's moan seemed to mingle with that of the elf's and they could hear him panting even through the fabric of the tent's flap. He was muttering curses in his native tongue, much to Zevran's delight, if the other man's soft laughter were any indication.

"How does that feel?"

"Strange." The voice carrying the word was slightly pained, weighted with heavy breaths. "Hurts some, but it's getting better."

"It will, don't worry. You just have to get used to it."

The two women exchanged worried looks as Rohn continued. "Blood?"

"To be expected." Zevran sounded calm. It shouldn't really have been shocking, coming from the assassin. "Always blood the first time. It gets easier, never fear."

"I'm trusting you in that."

"If it weren't true, don't you think I would have stopped?"

"I don't know. You have unusual tastes, Zev."

"This is true. For now, my Grey Warden, I should leave you to rest. If you think you'll need it, I could send Wynne in."

"It's not troubling me too much. We'll see later."

"As you bid."

The two women scattered away from the tent, though it was another minute or so before Zevran emerged. His face bore an expression of amusement, as if he had, perhaps, known they were there but quite frankly didn't care. He strode casually over to his gear and gathered up a few things, likely heading off to clean up by the look of what he was picking from his pack. Once he'd disappeared from the glow of the fire, the two came back together.

"Do you think Rohn is all right?" Leliana cast a nervous look over toward the Warden's tent.

"He didn't seem all that distressed. And neither did Zevran."

"Yes, but--"

"You heard the two of them, Leliana. If you wish to intrude and let them know you overheard them..."

"No, no, you're right there. I do not. Still--" Her eyes trailed along the perimeter of the fire's glow. "Ah hah."

Smiling, she headed over to the other Grey Warden, who was currently lounging and looking none-too-happy about the mabari leaning against him. Still, that wasn't stopping him from scratching him behind his ears.

"Alistair, I think," she stopped as he looked up at her, choosing her words carefully. "Perhaps you might look in on Rohn?"

"Is something the matter?"

"I'm...not sure. But it might be...something only you can deal with."

He gave her a curious look, but obviously concern for his fellow Warden won out. "All right, then. I can go check on him."

Watching him approach, she frowned a little. She didn't much care for the idea of sending in the Templar, nor deceiving him, but somehow it seemed less intrusive to have him find out what had happened.

"I'm half expecting that he'll just run screaming from that tent," Morrigan purred close to her ear, making her jump.

"Then we will have our answer, won't we?"

"How very devious, my dear. I do believe I'm growing on you."

Slipping back over to the tent, there was no retreating Alistair, which might be a good sign. The two men could be heard talking within.

"So, you didn't need me?"

"No, Alistair. I'm fine. What? Did you see Zev leaving and come to make sure I was still breathing?"

"Zevran was here?" There was a bristle in the young man's words.

"He just left. Just coincidence, then, it would seem."

"Right, well. Sorry to have bothered you. I--Are you bleeding?"

Leliana started. If Alistair could see it, did that mean...?

"Still?" A soft curse. "I suppose it will take time to heal. Ears are sensitive, after all."

Ears? What?

"If you need anything, just call, then. Sorry. Again."

"I'm fine. Thank you, Alistair."

The Templar pushed the flap of the tent open and emerged to Leliana's puzzled expression. "Ears? What happened to Rohn's ears?"

Alistair shook his head. "He's got a jewel in one now." He tugged absently on his own lobe, glancing back at the tent. "Zevran must have done it for him. What?"

Morrigan had just started laughing and Leliana hid her face, shaking her head. "Maker's breath," she chuckled out. "All that for an earring."

"All what?" Alistair looked between the two of them.

That only made them laugh harder.

[Copper]

((Been a while since I've put something up, I see. This little thing popped into my head as yet another 'side story' for Rohn's fanfic, once I get around to finally writing it. The coupling intrigued me and what started out as a pwp turned into honest-to-goodness character development. That being said, Holy Shit, Copper actually wrote something HETERO. Rated PG-13/R for "adult situations." Contains potential Mage Origin and Redcliffe spoilers and that's about it, I think. Everything else is vague enough. Doesn't have a title at the moment. That may change.))

Rohn leaned against the wall of the castle, gazing down into the courtyard from the corner of the raised walkway that served as a final defense before the main doors of the keep. Though some effort had been made to clear the area of the corpses, some remnants of their battle here still lingered. He saw none of it, though, his gaze as far off as his thoughts.

Connor had been saved, thanks to the mages of the Circle, and the second of his treaties had been fulfilled. Still, there was the task of attempting to cure Arl Eamon and that would take them to Denerim, right under the gaze of their foe.

If he hadn't already seen so much on this journey of theirs, he'd have thought this quest for the Ashes something fit for fools and madmen.

But, they weren't leaving for the city just yet. They'd need fresh supplies and it was too late in the day to set out already. Teagan had offered them a place to stay but Rohn didn't feel comfortable within the walls of the castle. He was much more at home under the open sky like this.

Movement out of the corner of his eye drew his attention to the stairs. Remaining still, he blended well enough into the shadows that whomever it was didn't notice he was there. He heard the soft tap of heels against stone and a patch of moonlight illuminated Morrigan's pale form as she crept between the castle and the door that lead down into the dungeon.

Frowning slightly, Rohn waited for her to enter the other half of the keep before he pushed away from his hiding place and followed on muffled steps.

***
"Who's there?" Jowan crept closer to the door, still wary, as the dungeons hadn't exactly been cleared out and there was no telling if anything yet lingered in the corridors. He was safe enough behind the bars of his cell, but that didn't mean he was impervious to all harm.

"'Tis only I."

The voice was only passing familiar and he tried to angle his body to see past the bars to the stairs. A few torches illuminated the hall and he caught sight of a woman approaching. Dark hair, a flash of bright eyes, and, ahem, yes, no need to let his gaze travel further down, even though the cut of her clothing seemed to encourage it.

Morrigan. The apostate that traveled with the Grey Warden. It must be nice to be afforded protection such as that.

"Was the ritual successful?"

Of all the things he could have asked her, that weighed heaviest on his mind. When the decision had been reached to try and seek aid from the Tower, he'd been grateful. Though he had offered up his blood magic to help Connor, it would have cost Isolde her life and despite his mixed feelings about the woman, he didn't want yet another death staining his hands.

"The boy lives."

The relief at those words staggered him. He found himself sagged to his knees, gripping the bars for support. "Thank the Maker."

Morrigan snorted. "Thank your fellow mages. 'Twas they who battled the demon, not your absent god."

He didn't want to argue the point with her. But mention of the Circle did bring his gaze back up. "Are the mages still here?"

"They've since departed. I'm told they have much to do back at that cage and this was merely repayment for some service the Warden rendered them."

"What? What happened at the Tower?"

"I know not. I remained here and my companions have yet to speak of it. Were I to hazard a guess from their haggard appearances, 'twas not something pleasant, likely."

The mage ran a hand through his hair. Before he'd left, there had been...whisperings. And then there was the matter of his agreement with Loghain. Had something happened, then? He wanted to think that the Teyrn had acted per their agreement and yet the sensible part of him began to chide, reminding him that he was nothing more than an expendable pawn in all of this.

"Why do you care?" Morrigan's voice brought him out of his reverie.

"What?" He picked his head up again.

"Why do you care what happens to that place?" He found it amusing that she refused to speak of it by name. "You sought to escape, did you not?"

"I still...I still had friends there. I may not have liked the place, but I didn't hate everything about it."

"I see."

The way she said it made him suddenly feel very foolish for having any sort of sentimentality to a place that was nothing more to him than a symbol of oppression. Still, he couldn't help but worry for those he'd known. Wynne. Amell. Irving. Even some of the templars. Well, if what the Bann had said was true, he'd be finding out what happened there soon enough. Likely as they brought him back to be made Tranquil.

"Has there been any change in the Arl's condition?" he asked quietly.

He heard movement, looking up in time to see her shaking her head, though she also replied with a quiet, "No." She didn't look very pleased at that fact.

"What's wrong?"

The question seemed to startle her. "What do you mean?"

"I mentioned the Arl and you frowned. There's been no change at all? Better or worse?"

"He remains the same. And now we set off on the morrow to chase the fabled ashes of a madwoman. The Warden seems to think that he can succeed where others cannot."

It was his turn to frown. "He succeeded in stopping Connor, didn't he?"

"Only because he took up the task of doing what that simpering woman could not bring herself to do."

"He's her son!"

"He was an abomination." Morrigan spoke it so matter-of-factly. Yes, it was true, but to some, becoming one didn't change the history of the other.

"Is there no one you would rather die for first than see hurt?"

"No."

Again, so matter-of-fact. He couldn't believe that. "What of the Warden? He protects you, does he not?"

"I don't need his protection."

"You're an apostate. If you weren't under his leadership, the Templars'd haul you away sooner than you could blink."

"They could try," she sniffed.

"I said that myself and they still caught me." The snort that she let out hinted that she obviously didn't think it was that impressive of a feat. "Why are you even here?"

"Pardon?"

"You obviously came down here for a purpose. Or did you simply seek to taunt me with the fact that you're on that side of the bars and I'm not?"

She'd been leaning against the wall opposite his cell. At that question, she uncrossed her arms and took a few steps closer to the door, crouching down so that the two of them were more at eye level. He caught sight of her eyes for the first time and had to hold in a gasp. They were golden in color, reminding him of a cat's or perhaps some exotic bird.

"I wished to see for myself what he saw in you," she replied quietly.

His brow furrowed, not quite expecting that sort of response. "He who? And what do you mean 'saw in me'?"

"The Warden," she replied. "Each time Teagan speaks of punishing you, he seeks mercy. 'Tis not something he does often, I think. I simply wished to see for myself if there was something beyond this," she gestured toward him, "or if he is just compelled to champion those who can obviously not protect themselves."

The question he was going to ask of the Warden died with her insult. It instead turned into a growl. "It would explain why he keeps your company, then."

He watched her eyes widen in surprise at that, heard the quick intake of breath. "I need no one to protect me."

"You don't? I say again, were you not in his company, the Templar would find you and they would drag you to the Tower kicking and screaming regardless of how powerful you think you are. They have ways of stopping mages."

"So I have heard and yet, you don't see me quaking in fear of them. My mother has dealt with the Templar before and I know how to handle them."

"Do you? Have you ever stood up to one? Have you ever fought one?"

"When I was a child, my mother used to use me as bait for them." A wicked grin twisted at her lips. "A little girl to shriek and dart further and further into the woods, leading the fools to their doom."

No wonder she could say with certainty there was none she'd die for. If her own mother did such a thing to a child? He shook his head. "Your mother killed them, then. Have you ever tried?"

"I helped Fl--"

"Have you ever tried to kill a Templar? By yourself?" he pressed.

She looked toward the floor. "I don't see why that matters."

"Because it's a lot different when they're not trying to kill you. You may have helped your mother, but that means they weren't concentrating on you. Try fighting them without your magic. See how far that gets you. And let me give you a hint: The view isn't that much different than what you're looking at right now."

He caught sight of the scowl on her face and watched her turn her attention down the hall, perhaps a small act of defiance to his last statement. Reaching a hand through the bars, he cupped her cheek and she let out an annoyed hiss as he forcibly turned her gaze to his.

Fear.

There was fear in her eyes. Fear that he might be right. Fear that there was that chance she wouldn't be strong enough. Fear that she needed to count on someone to keep her safe, that what she could do wasn't enough.

Fear that she'd end up right where he was.

His thumb lightly brushed at her cheek. "He won't let it happen," Jowan murmured softly.

"Wha--? Who?"

"The Warden. You may think he only protects those that can't help themselves, but I think he also watches out for the ones that would be the last to ask for help."

"You speak nonsense."

"I speak the truth. Or at least what you want to be the truth."

"How could you know what I want?"

"Because it's what we all want, Morrigan." He leaned closer, his hand drawing her to the bars as well. "Freedom."

Maker only knew what possessed him to kiss her. Maybe he was half-hoping she'd take offense and burn him to cinders on the spot. What he hadn't been expecting was for her to start kissing back.

Her slender hands easily fit through the bars, one sliding into his hair while the other clutched at the fabric of his robes. He could feel the metal of them pressing to his skin as the two of them sought to draw even closer to one another. It was a bitter reminder of just how different their situations were at the moment.

Breaking from the kiss, he drew back, a weak smile playing on his lips. "The desperations of a condemned man. It was kind of you to indulge them."

Seeing her face, he regretted his words, even if he thought them the truth. "Was that the only reason you sought to kiss me?" Her tone was soft and her gaze only flicked to him once.

"Were I free, I might not be so bold as to do the same, but that doesn't mean the desire isn't there."

She let out a soft laugh. "You find me desirable, do you?"

"What man wouldn't?" He arched a brow.

She smiled a little crookedly at that but said nothing more on the matter. He watched as she pushed herself to her feet, thinking that she meant to leave him at that. The kiss had likely been too bold, even if she hadn't pulled away from it. A final, pleasant memory, at least, before he was condemned.

Lost in his thoughts, he hadn't even seen her depart. Perhaps it was better. No sentiment to complicate things. Just something more for him to contemplate and one more thing to regret losing once the time came.

Something brushed against his leg and he started, nearly kicking out at whatever tickled him.

"Now where did you come from?"

He was staring down at a sleek little black cat, a purr rolling in the creature's throat as it twined between his legs and nuzzled at his shin. The creature let out a soft "Meow" as it glanced up at him and he had to look twice, even rubbing his eyes.

It's eyes were gold.

It didn't seem possible, but he swore the cat smiled, nuzzling him one final time before padding to the back of the cell. There was a glimmer, a pull of magic that he could feel taking shape, and the thing began to grow, body twisting as fur gave way to flesh, paws to hands, the tail disappearing. When the transformation was over, Morrigan stood inside the cell with him.

"Maker," he breathed out. 'How--?"

"Your tower is not the only place one can learn magic." A smile played over her lips as she moved closer to him, actually backing him against the door of the cell. Her fingers snaked into his hair again and he felt himself pulled into a deepening kiss. Her other hand clutched at the bars behind him, almost as though she were using that to pull their bodies closer together. Bringing his hands up, he circled her waist, striving to help with the closeness she seemed to crave.

Even if this was an act of pity on her part--something he was not about to ask--he didn't care. Nothing mattered at the moment save the warmth of her pressed against him, the flick of her tongue against his own, the grip of her nails, her scent...

Maker take me. Just like this. If this is the last thing I feel, I greet you a happy man.

His prayers, though, went unanswered and he sent another in gratitude for that. Past that, reason was starting to leave his mind, his thoughts steadily being replaced with his body's want for the woman in his arms. His hands traveled up her back, one pulling her a little closer, the other mirroring her hold on his hair.

Gasping, he pulled back from the kiss, his head banging lightly against the bars as he felt her hand rather boldly starting to rub between the two of them. He caught sight of the devilish smile on her lips. Letting his hand slide down from her hair, he brushed over her shoulder and began to return the favor, teasing in that he could very easily slip his fingers beneath her top but refrained from doing so. He was rewarded with seeing her bite at her lower lip and a squeeze of her own hand that had him groaning.

"Do you wish to play these games, then?" she purred, giving him another squeeze. "Or do you want to make the most of your time?"

If she was willing to forego any teasing or foreplay, he wasn't about to argue. His hands slid to her sides, pulling at the loose fabric that served as a shirt, and tugged it upward. True, it forced the two of them to part a little, but it both answered her question and had her halfway stripped.

She pressed against him once again, her lips distracting him briefly while he could feel her hands clutching at his robes, pulling those upward, bunching the fabric near his waist as he fumbled with working her pants down over her hips. They reached something of a compromise as he sank downward, allowing her to tug him out of the garment, his hands immediately returning to the task of helping her out of the rest of her own clothing. While she was still a bit off-balance, he stood up, spun her around and pressed her back against the door.

"Such interesting things one must learn in that tower of yours," she laughed softly, getting the idea already and hooking one of her legs around his thigh.

"Our time isn't always devoted to study." He urged her other leg upward as well, using his weight and the door to keep her up.

Her arms slid around his neck, one hand firmly gripping his shoulder, the other clutching at his hair. He drew back for a moment, catching the spark of excitement that flashed in those eyes of hers. Lifting her body and shifting his own, he was rewarded with a moan, watching her head tip back as he eased inside of her. The pinch of her nails bit into his shoulder and he would have hesitated but for the squeeze that he felt at his waist. Fully inside of her, he dragged his lips along her throat, covering her mouth with his, encouraged by the muffled whimpers that began as he started to move.

***
Rohn retreated back up the stairs the moment it became apparent that Morrigan and Jowan were done talking. Returning to his hiding place, he found a bit of solace in the cold stone that pressed against his skin. Outside of the obvious thoughts that had begun racing through his head, he forced his mind more to what they had been discussing before.

He wondered if Morrigan was right. If that's why he sought mercy for the blood mage. After everything he'd seen in the Tower, he should have been crying for his head.

But while Uldred had been using blood magic, he was also an abomination. Wynne had explained to him that any mage, regardless of the school they studied, ran that risk. It likely would have made little difference what magic he chose to use.

Jowan honestly seemed to want redemption. He felt guilt, not just for poisoning Arl Eamon but for being unable to help Connor. He had suffered at Isolde's order and yet seemed morose when she had offered herself as his sacrifice. A vengeful man would have seized the opportunity to punish his tormentor.

Teagan was not going to let him go. He might try and convince the Arl to be lenient, but if he truly wished to be merciful, he would have freed him by now. With Eamon still unaware, it would be easier to concoct a story to explain Jowan's absence. The Bann likely didn't want to think of the consequences that might occur if he loosed a known blood mage and so he was leaving it up to his brother.

A good amount of time passed before Morrigan emerged from the dungeon once again. She paused midway through the courtyard to adjust her shirt, her steps a little faltering as she crossed the cobbles. Though she glanced about, she still didn't see him before she slipped quietly back into the keep.

Dropping down from his perch, Rohn hugged the wall as he headed for the dungeon once more. There hadn't been any guards there before but he wanted to act quickly, just in case his absence or Morrigan's hadn't gone unnoticed.

Jowan, thankfully clothed again, was sitting on the floor of the cell, his back against the door. Rohn heard him sigh and watched his hand run several times through his hair. As the elf got closer, the mage started and spun around to his knees.

"W-Warden?"

Rohn crouched down before the door, examining the lock. It was a relatively simple device, now that he had time to study it. Reaching beneath his armor, he found the picks he kept tucked away there and drew them out.

"Might I ask just what it is you're doing?" Jowan remained on his knees, watching him work the wires in the lock.

He paused his work. "Giving you a chance at redemption."

"But the Bann--"

"Is going to put your life in the hands of the man you poisoned and in doing so, nearly killed his family and the people under his charge. I don't know this shem outside of what Alistair has told me of him, but I doubt that's going to put you in his favor, despite how fair-minded I've been told that he is." He gave the mage a crooked grin and returned to his lock picking.

"So you're letting me go?"

"I think you need to be given more of a chance than you'll have if you stay here." He finished with the lock and tucked his tools away. Rising to his feet, he pulled the door of the cell open and looked down at the kneeling man. "Prove me right. Do not make me have to hunt you down."

Jowan pushed himself to his feet, dusting off his knees. His gaze slowly crept upward, hesitant to meet the elf's, though when he did, he picked his head up, his expression set.

"I know you don't believe, but Maker bless you, Warden. I...promise I won't disappoint you."

As the mage hurried toward the doorway that would lead him to the escape tunnel and the cliffs beyond, Rohn's lips quirked in a small smile.

"Enjoy your freedom, Jowan."

The mage stopped and turned around, eyes wide, but the elf had already retreated up the stairs.

[Copper]

((AND NOW BACK TO THE MANSEX. You all can blame Chibi for this one. Seriously. I never would have come up with this story if it hadn't been for her putting the idea in my head. Rated R for sexual situations and gratuitous amounts of boykissing. This may or may not become 'canon' to Rohn's version of the Dragon Age universe, not like the other two are.))

Strange Brew

Anders let out a soft grunt as his back collided with the wall, that about the only sound possible, given that there was a pair of lips crushed hard against his own. His hands reflexively gripped at the shirt beneath them, caught between pulling his assailant away and tugging them closer. As the warmth of his mouth was invaded by an insistent tongue, he started to fight back, which really only served to deepen the kiss.

"Nate, what?"

He'd managed to break free enough to catch his breath, whispering out the question on an exhale. Blinking several times, he tried to bring the dark-haired noble into focus.

Instead of answering, Nathaniel kissed him again, something demanding in the feel of it. Wanting. He could taste the lingering mix of ale and...some spice...herb...he couldn't tell and Maker, why was he bothering to try?

Nate's assault was starting to make him light-headed. The kisses were deep, lingering, so much so he could barely catch a breath from the corner of his mouth. Pressing a hand to the noble's chest, his push was rewarded with a growl, a hand clamping around his wrist and it being pressed against the wall. Still, it was enough of a distraction that he could turn his head, sucking in several panting breaths.

This was...Nate wasn't like this, was he? No. Always calm. Always collected. This wasn't right. Not to mention this was Nathaniel. Not some bar maid or winking apprentice. He shouldn't be doing this. They shouldn't be doing this.

A nip at his throat brought him back to the reality that this was happening. The slide of a tongue along his pulse actually made him shiver and the weight against his body reminded him that he was not in control, not this time. Short of encasing Nate in magic, there was nothing he could do to free himself.

A hand came up, tugging at his hair. It first felt like Nate was trying to bare his throat further, until he felt fingers at the cord that pulled his hair back. It wasn't all the way loose by the time he pulled it free, another grunt escaping his clenched teeth as he felt the yank.

Fine. Two can play at that.

His free hand slid up, fingers twining in Nathaniel's own hair, giving it a good tug and trying to pull him back a little. Nate growled at his attempt, giving him a rather firm nip before he relented.

"What's gotten into you?" He was still pinned, still at Nate's mercy, and, Maker knew why, still wanting to be kissed like that again.

Nathaniel pulled himself loose, burying his face against the mage's neck. "Don't know. I just...I want...I need this. I need you." He picked his head up and started nibbling on Anders' jaw, working up to his earlobe. The press of their bodies together made the blonde very aware of just what Nate needed him for.

"Sure you don't want me to find you a willing wench?" His chuckle came out ragged, what with Nate's tongue sliding along the shell of his ear. "I know sev--Ah!"

Nate nipped at his ear, one of the few things that made his brain completely stop working. Maker help him, he whimpered and Nate heard it.

"You. I. Want. You." Each word was punctuated by either a nip or a suckle at his ear.

Anders could feel his legs starting to tremble. Maker, why was he wanting this? He should be trying to push the other man away, not sliding his fingers into his hair again to keep him from pulling back.

Nate's hips ground into his, another solid reminder of the situation. He also allowed himself to remember that they were in one of the hallways, that anyone could walk up on them at any second.

"Bed." He found himself pushing the words past a dry tongue. "Bedroom. Closet. Not here." He tugged on Nathaniel's shirt again.

The rogue pulled back so suddenly that the loss of warmth was actually a shock. The hand at his wrist now served to pull him along. He watched as Nate glanced around, drawing them toward the nearest door.

"Shouldn't we--?"

He was pulled into the room, backed against the door, and silenced with another kiss. Fingers groped past him, fumbling for the latch that would lock the door behind them. The room was empty and Nate seemed determined to keep it that way.

No light filtered in. One of the small storage rooms. A little something to remind him of stolen moments in the Tower. Back then...back then...

Maker, he couldn't think! He'd heard the term 'drunk on kisses,' but this, this was something else entirely.

Nate's whole body seemed to pin him to the door. Hands grasped at his robes, pulling and bunching them upward. Fabric scratched against his bare thighs, making him slightly amused that Nate didn't share the same luxury as he did. Through the kiss, a wicked smile pulled at his lips and he let his lower body grind against the other man's.

That caused a whimper on his partner's part, the grip at his waist pulling them closer together. "Don't. Please."

Anders found himself nuzzling a scruffed cheek. "Don't what?" His lips brushed over the shell of an ear.

"Tease. Maker, please. I can't stand it."

"What? This?" His hands slid down, gripping at Nate's backside, pressing them together as he ground his hips forward again. His body brushed against all the right spots, causing another whimper.

Half of his robes trailed down his body again as Nathaniel reached back, seized his wrist and slammed it against the wall above his head. He felt his chin being forcibly nuzzled and nudged to an angle, followed by the nip of teeth at his throat. A knee wedged itself between his own, a solid thigh brushing between his legs. The combination of all three sensations made him groan.

"Mmm. Mercy. I'll be good." The nips got firmer, trailing up to jaw, then ear again. Now a hand, a buffer between that firmness, and yet not. A squeeze, then a stroke felt even through cloth. "Nate, please. I promise."

"Not good enough." Hand fumbling past the thick fabric of his robes, sliding past the more flimsy garment beneath, wrapping warm around heated skin.

The first stroke had him throwing his head back, banging against the door behind him. "Maker!"

Nate was not gentle. His calloused hands lacked the softness of a woman's, but something about the stroke, he knew. The very thing that should have been making Anders push him away was the very reason he wasn't. The right amount of pressure, speed, pace, they all blended together in sensations that were making his head light and his knees weak.

"Nate. Nathaniel," he groaned. Thank the Maker for the grip on him or he'd be sliding down to the floor at this point, even if that was sounding like a good idea. The weak tugs of his wrist did little good to earn him his freedom. If Nate was that distracted, well, again, two could play at that.

His other hand wasn't pinned yet. Instead, he brought it around, cupping the firmness he felt beneath breeches. A squeeze brought a groan and letting him feel the slide up to the laces had hot breaths against his neck.

Once the garment was loose enough, he slid his hand inside, mirroring the hold his partner had around him. Except for his hand, Nate stilled, the peace allowing Anders to feel the swallow that pulled the other's neck. As soon as he began moving, he felt a tighter grip around him, his groan mingling with Nate's.

The brunette buried his face against Anders' neck, muffling the groans and soft whimpers each stroke of his hand was causing. He could even feel the thrust of Nate's hips, complimenting the motion of his hand. That prompted him to begin the same, adding yet another spark to the sensations already building inside of him.

Tugging his wrist again, he was released, bringing his hand down to sink his fingers into Nate's hair once more. He felt a firm arm at his waist, helping him keep his feet, even as his muscles were starting to tense.

As deep groans started to escape his lips, he felt himself drawn into another kiss, this one not as breathless, and yet he found himself wanting it just as badly as Nate's touch. The sounds of their approaching releases mingled together, gasps and whimpers joining moans of pleasure.

He broke first. Old habits, he tried to tell himself, but in submitting to Nate's touch, there was no denying why. For as demanding as the rogue had been, Anders found himself willingly giving himself over to it. That loss of control, even for just that long, felt welcome.

Panting as he fought to catch his breath, he heard a soft whimper, felt a nuzzle at his neck. The realization that he'd stopped came back to him. Turning his head, he pressed a kiss to Nate's temple, still trying to even out his breathing. As he began to move his hand again, he was rewarded with a hiss of pleasure. The hand that had been around him balled into the fabric at his waist, the other having slid up and into his hair again.

If all his past dalliances had Nate's control. He couldn't stop a soft chuckle at that thought. Outside of a few whimpers, he was practically silent. Even as he approached his peak, all Anders was aware of were soundless gasps and finally a groan that accompanied the shudder of his release. The tremble made the mage aware of his own shaky legs, that realization causing him to ease Nate down to his knees, sliding down the door along with him. Reaching out, he made sure Nate was tucked away, breeches laced loosely once again. Thankfully, his partner didn't seem to want to do much moving, curling up beside him and resting his head on the mage's hip. Not the most comfortable, but the warmth made up for it.

Despite the darkness, Anders let his eyes close, just listening to their breathing, fingers combing through the other's dark mane. The stillness was giving his mind a chance to catch up with what had happened. Maker knew what had brought this on, though. Why Nate had done it and why he'd let him.

He'd just reached a moment of dreamy relaxation when he felt Nate start beside him, pushing himself upright with a sharp exhale.

"Anders?" He could see him blinking, even in the gloom.

"In the flesh." He let a bit of a smile play at his lips.

A hand came up and he hid his eyes with a groan. "Maker. My head." He peeked at the mage from between his fingers. "We--"

"Yes."

"I didn't--"

"No."

"Maker's breath. Anders, I--"

"Don't know what came over you?"

"No. Yes. I mean, I think--" He groaned again, massaging his eye with the heel of his hand. "Poisons. I was testing new poison mixtures."

"Well, Maker knows you nearly killed me," the blonde laughed.

Nathaniel growled and ran his hands through his hair. "That...wasn't supposed to happen."

"But it did."

He muttered another curse. "How can you be so calm about this?"

Anders smirked. "Do you really think I couldn't have gotten away if I didn't want to?"

Nate sputtered. "You--?"

The mage laughed. "Actually, I think some of your poison muddled my thinking, too."

Nate glared at him. "I hate you."

He laughed again, softer this time. "Nate. Nathaniel, it's all right."

The dark-haired man shook his head. "I can't believe that."

"Well, we can either forget that this happened at all or we can acknowledge it and maybe move on from there."

"I'm not going to be able to look at you without flushing."

"Likewise."

"Or a vial of my poisons."

"That's your problem alone." Anders smirked.

"You're really fine with what happened?"

"Maker's breath! Yes!" The words came out on an exasperated sigh.

The other young man actually looked sheepish. "I'm sorry. I just can't help thinking--"

"Then stop thinking." Anders pressed a finger to Nate's lips.

Nate sighed and bowed his head, looking at the mage through his hair. "All right. I'll try."

"Good boy."

He growled at him for that but Anders could still see his smirk, feeling himself smile in return.

They sat still for a few moments more before Nate pushed himself up, reaching out a hand to help Anders to his feet as well. The motion drew the two of them rather close to one another. Anders kept very still as Nate swallowed.

"I think I need to--"

"Yeah, me too."

He let Nate leave first. His glancing about wouldn't seem out of sorts, not to mention he didn't exactly want the other man to see him. In the dark and amid the kisses, it was easy to hide the smiles that had started pulling at his lips. Running a hand through his hair, his fingers trailed over to cover his mouth, there still being a tingle of warmth there. Maybe he was going to have to try and convince Nate that further experimentation might not be a bad thing.

[Chibichibi]

You know how i feel about this story but let me remind you of my feelings in all their keyboard mashing glory.

zsdbjjlkzahglb

ILOVEYOUANDWANTYOURBABIES!

dslfkn;glka

[Sinfulwolf]

Well well Copper dear. I can see you've gotten Chibi's panties all soaked and soiled.

You've written this quite well, and despite myself not generally like Yaoi flavour I enjoyed it. It was sensual, heated, passionate... and at the end, slightly amusing with a very Dragon Age touch of humour. Well done.

[Chibichibi]

She even told me about parts of it while i was in biology class, talking about haploid and diploid cells.

I thought my face was going to spontaneously combust. Then again, i WAS asking for details because I was bored.

<33333 I'm so happy I planted the plot bunny in her brain.

[Copper]

Now you two are making me blush, but thank you. Funny how whims make the best stories. I just need to get back to more DA so I can do more writing for Rohn himself.

[Sinfulwolf]

Now you two are making me blush, but thank you.

It's what I do dear.

[Chibichibi]

Copper made me do it!

"Surprise" The unofficial sequel to "Strange Brew"



No one surprised Nathaniel Howe. He was very good at all the things an archer needed to be good at. Stealth and having a keen eye foremost among those talents. So to say that the Mage Anders had surprised him showed exactly what kind of a feat this was. Yet here he was. Definitely surprised, and definitely pushed up against a wall.

This is not to say he was disappointed. Far from it. He’d always taken the lead in these situations before, and he was enjoying the possessiveness of his mage. Anders was currently turning his muscles into jelly by nipping and licking at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, one of his most sensitive spots, while the mage’s hands were busy mapping the planes of his chest. A pinch here, nipple tweak there…

“Anders, if you don’t stop teasing me…” Nathaniel growled arching his back and grinding his hips against the mage, determined to have at least some control.

His mage chuckled and those hands traveled lower to slip past the rim of his breeches, oh Maker… Nathaniel hissed as Anders' hands came in contact with the heated flesh of his erection and began to stroke, roughly, twisting almost savagely at times.

He heard Anders chuckle again, “What was that Nate?” The mage practically purred, “If I don’t stop teasing you…?”

Nathaniel was in the golden city itself. Those hands, those talented hands knew exactly how to treat him… And as Anders pulled away he cried out with the sudden loss, ready to open his mouth and ask why his mage was abandoning him when he felt warm wetness envelop him. His protests turned back into moans as Anders used his tongue like an expert.

Nathaniel chuckled as a thought struck him amidst the pleasure, “Finally found something to shut you up…” he murmured, and was rewarded with a glare and a scrape of teeth. “Ah!”

He buried his hands in Anders' hair, pulling it free from its tie and digging his nails lightly into his mage’s scalp. He was glad for all the self control he’d taught himself. Every time his mage tortured him like this he had to hold back. He didn’t want to hurt his fair haired lover.

His eyes flew open as a finger pressed into him from behind. He’d not noticed the questing hand, and now the finger, searching for that spot inside him… A tentative brush and Nathaniel’s hips bucked, gagging Anders for a moment. Another touch, this time a firm press and Nathaniel lost it. He stuffed his fist in his mouth to muffle the noises issuing from his mouth as he pumped his seed down his lover’s throat.

After a moment or two still on his knees Anders was on his feet again and Nathaniel was being kissed, gentle yet demanding all the same and he could taste the bitterness of himself on his mage’s tongue.

“Nate, I’d like to…” Anders sort of trailed off and grinned.

Nathaniel was pretty sure he had a good idea of what his lover was asking, and through his nerves, he nodded. The bright look on his mage’s face was enough to dispel any doubt the rogue had and he followed the blonde over to their bed, where he was then pushed backwards onto the mattress.

Nathaniel swallowed hard at the gleam in his lover’s eyes, and half hoped that Anders would be gentle, while the other half hoped he wouldn’t.

Nathaniel had always been on top. Since the first day they were together, awkwardly groping each other in an old closet of some sort. The result of a failed poisons experiment that he’d foolishly decided to test on himself. That night he’d learned, not only that ale did not mix well with those particular herbs, but that Anders was delightfully submissive when pushed and that his mage’s ears were extremely sensitive.

In an attempt to keep some control in this situation Nathaniel pulled Anders in for a kiss, and began nipping his was along the stubbled jaw line and towards that wonderful ear… when Anders pulled away.

“Ah, no Nate. Not this time.”

Nathaniel merely blinked at the blonde, “What?”

“You heard me. Keep that mouth to yourself.” Anders was grinning, “You are not allowed to have control. You gave that up when you agreed to let me take charge tonight.”

Nate swallowed. This was starting to edge out of his comfort zone. Still not used to the idea in the first place, that hurried night not even a week ago. Anders was… persistent. He’d given in, but only because he’d been in charge so far.

Anders saw the look on Nate’s face and he dropped onto the bed, “Nathaniel.” Oh this was serious, the mage was using his full name, “Please listen to me. I know this is... strange. For Andraste’s sake I’M not even used to this yet. But please just give me a chance to show you how you make me feel.”

Nathaniel sat still as the seconds ticked by, his mind turning over the options. The distressed look in Anders’ eyes made his decision. He nodded slowly, and forced a smile past the nervousness.

Anders broke out in a relieved smile, “Good, good. You tell me at any time if you want me to stop.”

Nathaniel nodded and lay back on the bed, trying to relax himself. Feather light touches on his thighs, gentle kisses, nips and licks caused his waning erection to return, to sounds of approval from Anders.

“Nate, where’s the oil?”

Nathaniel gestured towards the small chest some few feet from the side of the bed, and before too much time had passed Anders was on his knees again, carefully oiling his fingers. He slipped off of his elbows and lay back flat on the bed, his feet resting on Anders’ shoulders, to give the mage a better angle.

He barely acknowledged the first finger, the second made him squirm a bit. The third had him hissing in pain and then Anders pressed that spot again and his muscles relaxed again as pleasure flashed through his system. Stubble on his thigh…. Anders was kissing them again. Rustling, and his feet being lowered back to the floor.

“Anders?” He opened his eyes, and his mage was leaning over him, face dipped down and then devoured his mouth. Deep heady kisses, fingers in his hair and then… He gasped. The intrusion was… not as painful as he’d been expecting. He reached up and pulled Anders to him, chest to chest digging his nails into the other’s back, until his mage was seated all the way inside of him. Grinning in spite of himself, he nipped at his Mage’s earlobe, “Move.”

One word but it set Anders in motion at a torturously slow pace, and the look on Anders’ face spoke volumes about how he was holding back. “Mage… Anders. Faster…” He growled out. Anders looked at him with some surprise, before he grinned and started to thrust faster, pounding into the body beneath him.

Nathaniel clung to the body on top of him. Every thrust hit that same spot, sending sparks through his vision, and the feeling of Anders’ hand snaked between their bodies, roughly twisting folded over his erection was his undoing. He hadn’t been aware that this was what Anders felt and as he came with a muffled cry, he felt a new appreciation for his Mage. Anders followed him a few thrusts later, biting his shoulder to muffle the cry.

They lay there, cuddled in the afterglow, too exhausted to move and Nathaniel brushed his Mage’s hair back from his face, “Thank you.” He said softly, “Now I know…”

He felt Anders grin, “Then we’ll do this more often?”

Nathaniel actually laughed, “Oh yes. I think we’ll be doing this again.”

[Copper]

((Another Nate and Anders story, thanks to Chibi's horrid little plot bunnies. Though this one features the same characters, it's something of a separate entity and not related to Strange Brew/Surprise. Rated M for use of alcohol, attempted rape, off-screen violence, and mansex. As if there were any doubt. Also...Damn posting limits.))

Taunted and Tormented

"Maker. I swear, mage, that mouth of yours is going to get you into real trouble one of these days."

Nathaniel Howe was currently hiding in one of Amaranthine's finest abandoned shacks, bent over, hands on his thighs as he fought to catch his breath. A red-faced Anders was sitting on the floor beside him, fanning at his face in a vain attempt for more air.

"What? All I did was ask if he was using that big sword of his as compensation for his lack of...reach."

To which the templar took offense and proceeded to chase the other man from the chantry. And Anders had taunted him further. Thankfully, Nate had seen it and pulled him into a nearby alley. But they'd been seen and chased after until they gave them the slip amid the tumbledown shacks on the outskirts of the city.

"Damn it, Anders, you can't do things like that." Nate straightened now that his chest wasn't burning. "You're still an apostate in their eyes."

The mage grinned. "Except I'm not."

Nate glared at him. "And as a Grey Warden, you should act better. The Commander depends on us to provide a positive presence, not get chased through the streets of the arling like common thugs."

Anders waved dismissively. "You can't tell me you didn't have fun leading those clanky stuffed-shirts on that chase."

Nate frowned. "That's beside the point."

"Ah-hah! I knew you were a troublemaker deep down inside that brooding exterior."

Furrowing his brows, Nate gave the mage a look. "I don't brood."

Anders snickered. "And I'm the Queen of Antiva." He held out a hand until Nathaniel helped him to his feet. "The women like that sort of thing, you know. Almost as much as they like a man that makes them laugh." He straightened his robes, dusting off the back of them.

"The day I take advice from you on women..." Nate shook his head, peering out the door to make sure the coast was clear. "Come on."

He still kept them mostly to the alleys and back routes. Since they'd dealt with the smugglers, he'd spent a bit of time getting to know Amaranthine's hidden ways. As such, he was able to lead the two of them back to the Crown and Lion without seeing so much as a single guard. Or templar.

"First drink's on me, Nate." Anders clapped him on the shoulder as they walked through the door, heading immediately for the bar.

"Damn right," he almost called back but instead decided to not egg the mage on. "Something good. Not that swill you got the last time," he stated instead, finding them a table in the corner so he could settle his back as close to the wall as he could get. Elbows propped on the table, he ran his fingers through his hair, letting a deep sigh relax most of his body.

There was a soft clunk and his eyes were first drawn to the mug before him, then the hand on the lip, up the arm and to the smiling face of the blonde mage.

"Hope this will do."

The brew certainly smelled potent and it had that wonderful numbing quality almost immediately. If he didn't know any better, he'd swear Anders was trying to get him so drunk that he'd forget to be mad at him. Nate smirked into the mug. Maybe he just might let him.

*
Anders woke in the morning with his arms wrapped around his pillow, cheek resting against it in a manner that almost gave the illusion of a comfortable shoulder. Nuzzling his 'partner,' he blinked his eyes open, frowning a little at the amber glow the room seemed to have as the morning sun filtered through the drapes over the window.

He was on the bed, which meant Nate...

There he was, sleeping propped up in the chair, arms crossed over his stomach as his chin tipped down to barely rest against his chest. He was a little slouched this morning, his knees spread, and no blanket. He shook his head. Would that man never learn?

Pulling the cover off of the bed as he rose, Anders crossed the floor, shivering as his bare feet padded over the wood, and lightly tossed the thing over both Nathaniel and the chair. He'd tried draping it over him once. Nate had come awake so quickly and his grip had been enough to nearly drop him to his knees. He'd pass on that, thank you. If he woke up from it, it would serve him right. If not, well, he didn't much care as he was climbing back into the warmth he'd left behind, intent on stealing as much more sleep as he could.

"You realize we're due to patrol soon, right?" came a rough voice behind him.

"Not hearing you. You're a figment of the Fade." He hummed to further prove his point.

"This figment is still perfectly capable of throwing you over his shoulder and marching you outside, ready or not, and poking you with sharp things until you start to move."

"You're evil. I hate you." Anders pulled the pillow over his head.

"I'm well aware. I'll leave you to get changed. Breakfast on me this morning."

He heard Nate get up, the cover dropping in a heap to the floor, and then him crossing it, the door opening with a small creak and his footsteps as they carried him toward the stairs. He was sorely tempted to stay where he was but at the same time, he didn't doubt his fellow Warden wouldn't follow through with his threat.

Sighing, he pushed himself up once more and headed for his bag, wanting a fresh set of clothing for the day. It wasn't until he'd pulled his other garments off that he became aware that he wasn't exactly alone. Turning around quickly, he felt the layer of frost beginning to coat his fingertips, solidifying into one of the bolts he was capable of whipping at an enemy. And yet there didn't seem to be anything there.

It wasn't until he heard the chuckle that he relaxed. "I suppose you're just keeping an eye out, to make sure I was awake?"

"Let's just say you've developed something of a pattern."

The ice melted away, returning to the ether that he'd drawn it from, though the chill of it still remained. He was going to breathe onto his fingers to warm them up when a better idea came to him. If Nate was going to be so insistent upon watching him...

Sucking in a breath through his teeth, he let his fingertips wander up his thigh, across his stomach and trace a line up his chest to his throat. Thankfully, his eyes were lidded, so he could watch Nate's reaction from under his lashes, careful not to let his expression give too much away. There was a skewed brow, lips parted, an exhale that heralded that moment between keeping silent and interrupting, and, of course, the uncertainty he caught in the other man's gaze.

Scratching his hand through his hair, he did his best to make the whole thing seem perfectly casual. "Well, now that you know I'm up," grin, "you can go see about that breakfast you promised." He shooed Nate away with the same hand, turning his back on him to gather up his robes and pull them over his head.

"R...ight." And the other man turned and truly exited the room this time.

Not quite the reaction he'd hoped for. The disbelieving look at least proved that he had been looking, following the mage's hand as it moved. And the slight catch in his voice. Well, he hadn't been going for speechless, so he could call it a victory. If Nate was going to rob him of sleep, he could rob him of comfort.

Which was part of the reason he figured Nathaniel had ordered them to split up while they were on patrol. The reason given was that they could cover more ground that way but he'd quickly turned away from Anders' grin as he agreed. Besides, it wasn't as though they weren't within shouting distance of one another, should they run into something they couldn't handle alone.

Anders wandered down one street, letting out a curse as he found the way out thoroughly blocked by debris and scrap. He thought he'd be able to get past, but looking at it now, that wasn't the case. Shoulders drooping as he sighed, he turned and made his way back.

Midway there, he stopped. Two figures had moved to block the exit to the cross-street. Shifting his grip on his staff, he began to call to mind one of his glyphs. Incinerating someone for simply looking suspicious wouldn't make the Commander very happy. Best to play it safe.

Before he could get any closer, he felt the familiar, sickening feeling of having his mana sucked away in one sudden pull. His knees buckled as the vertigo from it caused a shine behind his eyes. Spots danced amid the broken cobbles and he was barely holding himself away from them with a trembling arm, trying to suck in air against the tightness in his chest. He didn't hear the footfalls on the stones as the men approached. All he heard was his blood rushing in his ears until one spoke.

"You're not looking very good, Ser Mage." He could hear the leer in the templar's voice. "Maybe we ought to see you somewhere safe."

"No," he croaked out, his limp muscles unable to bat at the hands seizing his arms. He managed to kick but the angle wasn't right and the two men practically hauled him off of his feet to drag him along. "No!"

"Shut him up, idiot! He'll bring the guards."

A wad of cloth was stuffed into his mouth, the feel of it making his stomach lurch as he gagged. Forcing it out with his tongue, he felt an elbow jab into his side, stealing his breath before he could call out again. The rag was scooped up from the ground and stuffed back in again.

Wherever they were taking him, it wasn't far. A shack, maybe, or deserted barracks. Once they were inside, one man let him go to head over and strike a taper to a lantern. He fought with the other as he bound his hands behind his back. Once he was trussed up, he shoved him to his knees.

"Where's the bottle?"

"Here."

"Heh. Nothing like sharing a drink with friends." The templar returned and pulled the gag free. "Drink." He shoved a bottle up to Anders' lips.

He flinched back. "Go to hell." He even managed to work up enough to spit at the man.

That got him clubbed, hard, on the side of the head. He saw spots again and actually tumbled over. There were hands on him then, a pair of fingers pinching his nose shut. He could feel the glass against his lips again.

No! No! I don't want to. Let go. Let go or I'll...I'll...Damn it, no!

He had to gasp.* It was either that or pass out and his body chose the former.* Something too sweet poured into his mouth and before he could spit it out, the hand clamped over his mouth, thumb pinching at his nose to make certain he swallowed it.* When he was finally released, he managed to roll to his side, trying to spit out what remnants of it he could taste.

"How long before it works?"

"Brewer said not long.* Then the fun starts."* He really didn't like that chuckle.

"You...You're making a big mistake," he managed to gasp out. "My commander--"

"Is going to be shy one mage soon enough." The templar gave him a toothy smile. "You didn't think you'd be leaving here alive, did you, mage?"

He'd certainly hoped it. Still, Nate would realize he was missing. No matter what happened, they'd know. Eventually. No. He had to stop thinking like that and start thinking on getting loose. Except, it was getting hard to do that. He felt...sleepy. Warm. Very warm. It almost seemed like his robes were too heavy and he wanted them gone. Wanted his icy touch from this morning. Huffing out a breath, he groaned, trying to roll over and press more of his skin against the cool ground.

"Looks like it's working."

A laugh. "Aye. All flushed. Like a bride on her wedding night." The other joined in the laugh that time.

"Best not to keep our friend waiting too long. Don't want him too eager and the fun to be over too quickly."

What...What fun? What were they...? He tried to shift his body again and groaned, this time from the heavy feeling that was settling below his stomach. Maker, he was starting to ache, the prickle of it creeping all along his skin. He felt the scratch of his robes being pulled up, the cool air welcome, yet something nagged at the back of his mind, telling him there was something wrong about this.

"You're sure that stuff will making him go along with this?"

"So I was told."

"Good. I'd hate to have to break his teeth for biting," the one in front laughed.

"You just wait until I'm done with him. Then you can do whatever you want."

He tried to gaze up but he wasn't at a good angle. Groaning a little, he attempted to sit himself up, only to feel a hand between his shoulders, pushing him back down.

"Now, now, Ser Mage. Don't be so eager, hmm?" Short nails scraped over his skin, making him gasp, eyes opening wide.

"Don't."

"Heh. And here I was beginning to think there wouldn't be any fight in you." The man's palms seemed to scorch his skin, heat combined with his body's flush. "That just makes it more fun."

Anders tried pushing himself away, but crawling was near impossible, not to mention he felt hands hauling him back as soon as he tried.

"Stop that. You're going to keep still for me. Especially after I went through all this trouble to see your question answered."

"Wh-What question?" His throat pinched as he swallowed.

Something hard and metal trailed down the small of his back. "How my sword compares to my reach."

That realization pierced through the haze.

"No!" His knees scraped against the floor as he tried to get away again.

He could feel the bite of a hilt at his side as he was pulled back again, a hand then coming up to grip his robes, this time hauling his body upward, enough that a firm hand could grip at his jaw.

"Let's stop that mewling."

He tried to shake his head, but the man's grip was too strong. Then came the press of the metal, trailing between his buttocks. That he thought he could try and arch away from, but the templar simply changed the angle, following him. Gritting his teeth, he could feel it starting to press against him, feel the other waiting for his lips to part. Everything about the situation repulsed him but what frightened him the most was how his body wanted what they were going to do. He'd been aching for it, for any release from the tension that had surged through him. Another few moments and they needn't have forced him. He likely would have been begging for it.

The hilt started to breach into him, causing whimpers to roll in the back of his throat. Another push and he nearly screamed, his teeth grinding together to keep his mouth closed, huffing as many breaths as he could through his nose. He heard the faintest wisp of sound in front of him and suddenly the support that he had was gone. His body fell forward and he landed with a grunt. There was the crunch of a boot and the pain stopped abruptly, relief instantly warring with the empty feeling it left behind. Lips allowed to part, he panted, breathing broken up by groans and impatient wriggles of his hips.

He felt hands on him again, not yet realizing that he'd been covered by his robes once more. As they seized his wrists, he started, trying to shake himself free.

"Anders, hold still. It's all right."

Nate? "Nate?" he groaned, not quite trusting his ears.

The rogue sawed through the ropes, freeing his arms. "Come on, mage. Let's get you out of here."

His shoulders protested the movement, liking even less being made to push himself up. He found himself chuckling as bravado edged out embarrassment and fear. "What kept you?"

"I had to break in from the upstairs."

He managed to roll himself into a sitting position, blinking the dark-haired noble into focus. He put on a rather cross face. "Took you long enough." He would have crossed his arms if they didn't ache so.

"I could have waited." Nate arched a brow.

"No. Nnnno, that's...fine. Just fine." He tried to stand and found himself stumbling into Nate's arms. He realized there were two men...templar...lying on the floor. "Did you kill them?"

Nate adjusted his hold on him, one arm around his side, the other holding onto his hand. That wasn't comfortable so he put his arm over the rogue's shoulders instead. That felt safer.

"I used a sleeping draught, but I--"

Something about his features darkened and for a moment, his eyes didn't seem quite so bright. "What?" Anders breathed out.

"I wanted to," he whispered.

The mage leaned into his companion a little more, still warm, but this feeling was different. He still ached and he was starting to feel dizzy. They needed to go. That much he understood. Tipping his head some, he dusted an ear with his lips.

"Take me home. Please."

*
Anders was half stumbling, his feet dragging behind him, alternating which one wanted to make him dead weight at this particular moment. For support or so he kept telling himself, the mage had flung an arm over his shoulders. This brought him within close proximity to the rogue, particularly his neck.

A nuzzle and then the feel of lips brushing against the taunt skin there. "Mmm. You smell good." Anders' lips pulled back into a smile, his words coming out in a half-mumble.

Nate shivered, allowing his eyes to close for a second before he gave the mage a little shake. He'd been like this since leaving the warehouse they'd been in. "Come on, now. We're almost back. Don't you want to lie down? Sleep this off?"

"I don't want to go to bed alone," Anders pouted.

Maker's breath. "I'll see you to bed, Anders. I promise."

"Mmm, good." He sounded utterly content at those words, walking along without any further stumbling or dragging, even managing to spot the sign for the tavern. If he hadn't seen how he was before, he'd have thought the whole thing an act.

The two got a few looks as Nate led them in, heading immediately for the stairs and the room. He sat Anders on the bed and then went back to make certain the door was locked. When he turned around again, the mage was on his feet, barely, swaying a little as he shuffled toward him.

"Anders, sit down before you fall."

"No. I don't want--" And he stumbled again.

Nate managed to catch him, holding the other man in his arms until his legs seemed steady once more. "You need to go to bed."

"Mmm-mmm." Anders shook his head. "I can't. I feel...I'm so..." He tipped his head up and leaned in, pressing his lips against Nathaniel's.

Letting out a gasp as he drew back, Nate shifted his hold to the other's shoulders. "Anders, stop that."

He tried to lean in again, letting out a soft, unhappy sound as he was kept at bay. "Nate, please." When it was clear the rogue wasn't going to relent, he sank down to his knees instead.

Nate's worried cry strangled a bit in his throat as he felt warm hands skimming up the backs of his legs. He tried to back up but Anders took hold of him. He'd fall if he tried to pull away. "Damn it, Anders, stop."

"Don't want to." Maker's breath, he was pouting again. Slim fingers trailed up the back of Nate's legs, fumbling around for the bindings of the cloth he wore beneath his leathers. About the same time he felt it being pulled down, he also felt the skirt that protected his thighs being nudged away.

"Maker! Anders, st--ah-hah!" He tried to step back again, succeeding some, given that the mage's hands had moved to his front, though as he did, he felt the pull of fingers around his manhood. His fingers found their way into blonde hair, trying to tug him back. He found himself gazing down into bright eyes, not at all like the glassy stare he'd been seeing.

"Please, Nathaniel." There was a touch of a plea in Anders' voice. His tongue flicked out, wetting his lips. "Let me do this. For you. I didn't want them, but this...this I do."

Maker take him. Anders didn't know what he was saying. He couldn't know. It was the potion. It had to be. He'd found the bottle as he'd knelt down, recognizing the scent, and the effects, right away. That meant he should say no. Just haul him up, throw him on the bed and spend the night in the commons. But there were those fingers again, stroking the inside of his thigh, urging him to step closer. The grip of his hand relaxed, turning into more of a stroke along the mage's hair, silently accepting the offer.

Anders smiled up at him before his gaze dropped and he leaned closer, now allowing his hand to guide Nate to his lips, parting to accept him with a low hum. Maker, if he hadn't been so close to the door already he would have fallen all the way to the floor. His fingers curled in Anders' hair, one of the few things he could focus on at the moment outside of his own heavy breathing. His other hand was splayed against the door, trying to keep himself on his feet, even if it felt like his knees wanted to buckle.

Lips and tongue played around sensitive skin, broken up by the very, very light graze of teeth at the tip, usually followed by the press of a kiss. He was fighting to keep his hips still but finding that was becoming more and more difficult, especially as the hums that Anders was rolling in his throat seemed to course through him. It was when the hums began to turn into groans and the pace grew erratic that he risked looking down at the other man again.

Anders was still steadying him in one hand, gripping a little and making a nice counter for the movement of his lips. His other hand, though, was buried beneath the tangle of his robes, his kneeling having turned into more of a sitting position. The whimpers that were escaping him now seemed more wanting than encouraging.

"Anders, stop," he breathed out. When the mage didn't listen, he tightened his grip in his hair and pulled back, taking a step closer to the door himself. Not far, but enough, as he heard the other man's ragged breaths as he pulled free.

Crouching beside him, he reached over, finding the hand beneath the robes and covering it with his own to still the motions there. Pinching his eyes shut, Anders let out a groan. Nate slid an arm around him, helping to draw him to his feet once more.

"Nate." The want in that groan was tangible.

"Shhh. Trust me, all right." He started pulling the loose garments up, Anders ducking out of them when they were high enough and embracing him, as much of his skin pressed to Nate's leathers as he could manage. "Go on. On the bed. I'll join you in a moment."

Reluctantly, the blonde pulled away from him and crawled onto the mattress. Nathaniel fumbled with a few of his fastens as he occasionally caught sight of Anders stroking himself, lower lip pinched between his teeth, eyes fixed on him.

The mage made a rather happy sound as a now equally naked Nate crawled into the bed with him. Before he could even say anything. Nate found himself eased onto his back, Anders wasting no time at all in retuning to what he'd been doing that landed them here in the first place.

That was not, however, what Nathaniel had in mind. Though he was far from celibate, what he was entertaining was still a new experience for him. Thankfully, others that he'd served with in the Free Marches had been more than willing to share detailed stories of conquests and exploits, giving him some idea on what do to.

Guiding Anders' hips with easier reach, he skimmed a hand along the other's back, feeling the mage lean into his touch with another hum.

"Easy now." He breathed out a laugh. "You want this to last, don't you?"

He felt a nod, groaning more as Anders slowed his pace. Bringing his hand to his lips, he slid his fingers into his mouth, running his tongue over them and slicking them thoroughly. After that, he brought them to Anders' backside, finding his entrance and starting to ease one finger inside. Anders stilled completely, to the point of letting Nate slip free from his attentions.

"You can tell me to stop. Any time." His free hand came up, steadying the blonde's hips, feeling them starting to rock back into his tentative thrusts.

"No, please." Anders bit his lip again as he muffled a whimper. He pushed back again. "More," he groaned.

Nate swallowed and obliged, carefully adding a second finger, letting them scissor as well as answer Anders' thrusts. A little keen rolled in his partner's throat, encouraging him. He lightly patted the mage's hip with his free hand once again.

"I think you know what's next."

[Copper]

Anders let out a happy whimper, if there was such a thing, and wrapped his mouth around him once more. The gasp he let out had him twitching and obviously the mage approved of the involuntary thrust that surprise made him do. The results of his desire were starting to mingle with saliva around him, Anders being very thorough with his tongue. Though he wanted to be sure, any more of that and there wouldn't be anything he'd be able to do to help anymore.

Watching Anders, he found the mage to be guiding as much as submitting. He understood what Nate had in mind, shifting around to position himself, reaching back with a hand to guide the two of them together, fingers brushing Nate's, causing a little smile. The rogue's other hand massaged up and down the mage's thigh.

"I'll try not to hurt you."

A ghost of a smile brushed over Anders' lips. "I know." The words came out more form than sound. As he eased back, Nate rocked his hips upward, watching those pale eyes roll back, lips parting as little groans punctuated huffs of breath.

They stayed still for several heartbeats before Nate started to move again, hands snug at Anders' hips, watching his expressions and listening to the sounds he was encouraging to help set their pace. Feeling his partner starting to find a rhythm for the two of them, his own eyes pinched closed for a moment before he remembered to answer the motions with the rocking of his own hips.

What they were doing, though, wasn't all that he had in mind. Skimming a hand along Anders' thigh, he curled his fingers around the mage's shaft. He could feel him thrusting into his grip simply from the movements of his own body and added to that with a steady rhythm.

"Maker! Nate!" Anders stilled for a moment before he realize the rogue was no longer moving his hand. Whimpering a little, he settled into motion again, rewarded with the strokes beginning once more.

Anders was watching his hand, one of his own curling around his fingers to follow the stroke. As he picked up the pace, the smoother hand fell away, joining the other as they braced back on his legs, though he wondered how long that would keep up, given the trembling he could feel.

Eyes met his, pinching shut when he could feel the tension growing in the blonde's muscles. Gasps broke up whatever he was trying to say. His own gaze followed the arch of Anders' back, seeking that moment that would push him over the edge.

"Na-Nathaniel!" Hearing his name coupled with the tremors that he felt running through the mage's body, the tightness around him, that nearly did him in at the same time. Warmth spread from his stomach to his chest as he felt the release that accompanied Anders' orgasm. And despite his groans and panting, Nate wasn't quite finished with him.

The rogue's hands slid to the mage's hips once again, guiding him as his own body thrust upward, wanting to share in the breathless release that was still causing whimpers in the blonde's throat. Mercifully, it wasn't long before he felt himself throbbing into the tight heat still around him, groans of his own accompanying the pleasant exhaustion that was starting to fill his limbs.

With a sound that was half purr and half groan, Anders leaned forward, easing them apart so he could lie on top of him. Heavy breaths broke up the kisses that he began pressing to Nate's lips and he hummed as fingers were slid into his hair. The kisses started coming slower and slower, the sounds accompanying them sleepy and content.

Smiling almost to himself, Nathaniel welcomed the weight on his chest, hand trailing down to rub circles along the mage's back. Anders' slow breathing was broken up just once by a content sigh. That he could settle like this told him that the potion had worked its way through his system. Now all he had to worry about was what might happen come morning.

*
Anders woke to a warmth beside him, blinking Nate's profile into focus. Memories of yesterday flit though his mind, accompanying the pleasant ache that had settled through his body.

He reached up to brush a few strands of dark hair away from his bed-partner's face, letting out a soft noise as a hand snatched his wrist. Unable to tug loose, he let out a soft "Oh" as lips pressed first to his palm and then the inside of his wrist.

"You never learn, do you?" Nate's voice was rough but there was also the pull of a smile at his lips.

"Maybe you need to relax more," he countered.

Nate let out a sigh, bringing their hands to his chest. "Anders--"

The mage shook his head, interrupting. "Thank you. I...couldn't say it last night. For finding me. For stopping...them. For..." He was at a loss on how to describe what else had happened.

Nate shook his head. "I told you that mouth of yours was going to get you into trouble."

Anders quirked a bit of a grin. "You didn't seem to mind."

He felt Nate grow still, suddenly worried that maybe he regretted what had happened. Chuckling softly, he slid his fingers free of the other man's grip, rolling away so he could climb out of bed.

"Anders..."

He sat there for a moment. "It's all right. I--Thank you. Again. For watching out for me." He pushed himself to his feet but his legs protested, causing him to stumble, plopping back down to the mattress.

Nate twisted up so that he could kneel behind him, hands lightly on his shoulders. "Idiot. Come back to bed. I'm not trying to chase you away."

The mage turned, looking at him over his shoulder. "No?" Somehow he didn't quite believe that.

Fingers combed through his hair, a faint smile returning. "No."

Turning completely, he crawled back into bed, the two of them stretching out once more. Nate's arm curled around his back.

"Let's just make sure it doesn't take something so drastic to lead to this again, shall we?"

Anders laughed softly. "Agreed."

((And for those wondering about the bad, bad templar, our illustrious Wardens told on them to their Commander, which was probably more evil than if Nate had just slaughtered the two of them outright.))

[Chibichibi]

I can't praise you enough you magnificent woman, you.

You got the full spectrum of my emotions with it the other day, but i just thought I'd tell you again, how happy you make me xD

[Copper]

((And here's where I break Chibi. Another Nate and Anders story, again, unrelated to the others. Rated M because this one is pretty much pure smut. Title figured out. Look for the gag title in my post after Ronny's.))

Bound and Determined

Nathaniel's back arched away from the wooden table he'd been secured to, a hiss escaping his clenched teeth. As he eased back down, he could feel his chest rising and falling in heavy pants, the smell of the expended lightning spell making it almost hard to breathe.

"When I get loose, I'm going to kill you, you realize." He shook his head to get his hair away from his eyes, glaring at his tormentor as he walked around the table once again.

"That's not exactly something I'm worried about right now." The mage trailed a fingertip along his bare leg until the leathers he wore prevented more skin-to-skin contact. "Especially since my magic's proven more than capable of handling you." Even through the breastplate he wore, he could feel fingertips moving up his side, seeking the uncovered flesh of his arms.

"Blood magic," he spit. "No wonder the templar want you so badly."

A laugh. "You know, they say it only affects those with a weak mind." Slim fingers combed through his hair, short nails scratching along his scalp. "Or maybe you just wanted to give up." The fingers gripped for a moment, pulling, before releasing him as the mage continued pacing around.

"If I'd taken my shot--"

"I wouldn't be breathing now. And yet, you let sentimentality get in the way. Tch tch tch." The mage stopped at the foot of the table, now letting both hands skim up and down the rogue's thighs, sliding under the armored skirt.

Nathaniel wriggled his hips, about the only protest he could give, save more verbal ones. His knees were hooked over the edge of the table, shins bound to the legs. His arms were stretched over his head, bound together at the wrists, and secured, he guessed, by several ropes that ran from the other legs. There were no locks here he could pick and he'd been searched thoroughly for all of his weapons, including the little blades he kept for situations like this.

No, not like this. This was something else entirely. He hadn't expected a maleficar to take prisoners, not with all the stories he'd heard. Then again, this wasn't some random mark they'd been hunting.

"Anders, stop!"

Warm hands slid along the inside of his thighs, reaching uncomfortably close to somewhere intimate. The mage leaned back, letting his nails drag along the skin there, seeming to like the grimace that caused Nathaniel to wear.

"Stop? Nate, my sweet, we haven't even begun."

Moving around to the side of the table again, he studied the fastens that held on the lower half of the rogue's leathers, picking at them experimentally until he managed to loosen the buckles. As he tried to remove them, however, Nathaniel smirked. The only way to slide them off would be to undo his legs.

Or that would have been the only way if the mage hadn't produced one of his own knives to cut through some of the straps that held the armor together. Once one side was sliced through, he easily pulled it away as if it had merely been wrapped around his hips.

The point of the blade followed the curve of first one hip and then the other as he nicked the strings that secured his undergarment as well, though that he left be, instead turning his attention to the top half of the leather.

"This is going to be simply too much work." Anders shook his head. "Thankfully, I have a solution."

"Leave it be?" Nathaniel quipped.

Anders chuckled, stepping close and holding a hand over his chest. His intent became clear as the warm air between the two of them became more visible, moisture starting to condense on the breastplate, spreading out to cover the leather in a thin layer of frost.

Nathaniel could feel the cold seeping through his armor as it was pressed against his skin. He tried to slow his breathing, given that the armor itself was starting to constrict from the now fine layer of ice that was wrapping around it. Unbidden, his teeth began to chatter as the cold spread to his arms and stomach. Once Anders seemed satisfied with how thick the ice was, he carefully spun the dagger around in his grasp and slammed the hilt against it just above Nate's stomach. The brittle leather crackled and he could feel the individual pieces, which the mage began stripping away.

"So much easier than fighting with all those straps, wouldn't you agree?" He let out a soft sound as he pulled at one of the final pieces and as he dropped it, Nathaniel could see the red tinge that had come from the nick in his palm. Giving Nate a sideways glance, he brought his hand up to his lips, trailing his tongue along the wound before pressing his lips against it.

Swallowing against the thick feeling that was beginning to settle in his throat, Nathaniel managed to get the tremors from the cold under control. "So now what? More torture?"

"You think that was torture?" Blonde brows arched and an amused chuckle escaped Anders' lips. "Oh no, Nate. I haven't begun that yet."

The rogue hissed as cold fingertips brushed down his side, finally seizing the last of the cloth protecting his modesty and pulling it away. He bit back a groan as he felt one digit run the length of...oh, Maker.

"My." He could hear the chuckle in Anders' voice. "I think I'm impressed. Even through all that cold. And don't try to deny it, Nathaniel. You are wanting."

He shook his head. "No. Don't do this, Anders. Please."

"Mmm, don't do what? This?" Fingers wrapped around him and pulled upward, causing him to swallow the groan that came from the back of his throat. "Yes, this, I think."

His head tipped back, chest heaving, jaw clenched to keep all but the faintest of whimpers from escaping as smooth fingers and a steadily warming palm began to stroke up and down in a slow rhythm. He could feel his hips starting to wriggle again, wanting to free himself from the mage's hold but all it seemed he was doing was thrusting himself into his hand.

"You know, Nate, I would be willing to stop." Anders' words didn't match the pace of his hand. "I just need one little thing from you first."

Nathaniel huffed out something of a laugh. It couldn't be that simple. "And what price is my freedom?"

He found himself almost groaning as the mage stopped. Anders came to the head of the table and leaned down, brushing some of his hair away so he could dust his lips against the rogue's ear.

"I'll give you your release if you beg for it."

Something flared inside of him at those words. No. Never. He was a Howe. A Howe didn't beg. Not only a Howe, he was a Grey Warden. There was nothing Anders could do that would make him beg. Nothing.

"Maker take you," he hissed. "And your deals."

He felt a kiss against the shell of his ear. "I was hoping you'd say that."

Anders drew back, humming softly to himself as he let his finger draw a pattern around Nathaniel's nipple, the design moving down to the softer skin of his stomach and side, tracing along the line of his hip and then along the underside of his shaft before he felt the pad of his thumb brushing back and forth against his head.

"Shall we put that endurance they're always lauding upon us to the test, Nate, hmm?" Anders was at the foot of the table now, his other hand sliding up his thigh, supporting him as he leaned forward and flicked a tongue against the other man's erection. Nathaniel felt his hips twitch again. "Mmm, you're sensitive."

His eyes had been closed, his breathing deep as he did his best to drown out the little distractions that Anders was trying to create with his body. As a sudden warmth enveloped him, his eyes snapped open and he hurriedly sucked his lower lip into his mouth, biting down on it to keep his surprised groans from spilling forth.

As Anders kept swallowing him, he could feel the pull of the mage's hand countering each firm suck. His arms ached as he pulled at the ropes binding his hands. It wasn't just the other's mouth that was torture, it was not being able to touch him, guide him to the pace that he wanted, to brush his hair back and watch him moving. Faint groans accompanied his heavy breaths and he was consciously bucking his hips slowly into the mage's mouth.

A long suck accompanied Anders pulling away from him again, though this time he bit back any disappointed sounds. Fingers brushed between his legs again, starting to massage his sac, sliding back to brush against the sensitive skin beneath it. Nate gasped.

"Stop trying to take control of this situation," Anders told him as he moved his hand, the motion both massage and stroke. "Or I am going to have to remind you that you," he squeezed a little, eliciting a groan, "are not in charge here."

Nathaniel felt it wisest to just bite his tongue and let the mage move on to whatever he had in mind next.

Anders left him after that, rooting around for something outside of his view. He came back toying with a small bottle that Nathaniel eyed suspiciously.

"What is that?"

"Oil. From the Dalish." He rolled the bottle between his palms. "They use it to keep their leathers soft. Oh, don't worry." He must have seen the look on the other's face. "It's perfectly safe. Not like the grease you use."

"And just why do you have that?"

Anders undid the stopper and let some of it drizzle over his fingers. "Because I don't think you'd like it if I didn't." Setting the bottle aside, he brought his hand between Nate's legs again, making him jump as he felt a brush along his backside.

"What are you doing?"

The mage ignored the question, frowning as he seemed to be absently groping and sliding his fingers at the crease there. Shaking his head, he grinned at his captive once more, raising a hand that pulsed with arcane energy.

"Anders, sto-Ah!" Nathaniel's words dissolved into a growl as his muscles slacked, the same puppet spell that trapped him before. All he could do was glare as Anders knelt down, cutting through the bonds at his legs. They were then lifted up, feet planted on the table.

"Much better."

He stood there for a moment, considering something, and then began stripping off his robes. Balling them up, he slid them under Nathaniel's hips, propping them at an angle. Unable to ask, let alone protest, Nate could only watch as Anders slicked his fingers with the oil again. This time, there was no mistaking what he had in mind as he could feel him tracing circles around his entrance.

This should have been humiliating, looking across his own naked body at the mage who seemed to be waiting for...something. Anders' eyes trailed in the opposite direction, cocking his head to the side as their gazes met. Nate could feel himself flush, but he wasn't embarrassed. Maker help him, he was aroused.

Something pressed inside of him and he threw his head back with a strangled noise. From Anders' laughter, it had to be his finger, having finally breached Nathaniel's opening.

"Not so bad with the oil, is it?" Back and forth he moved it, a slow pace that pushed him in a little further with each thrust. His other hand rubbed up and down Nate's thigh. "Just relax," he purred. "Relax and breathe."

Nathaniel shook his head, not trusting his voice at the moment. All he could manage were ragged pants, when he wasn't groaning at the sensation.

"Always so quiet," Anders mused. "I wonder if I can change that."

Nate hissed as he felt a second finger joining the first. For a time, they kept the same rhythm and then they began to scissor inside of him, making him grit his teeth as he was stretched. On top of that, Anders also seemed to be trying to press his fingers further in.

"Damn it, Mage, what are you--" The rest of his curse devolved into a squawk, his body arching so powerfully from the jolt of pleasure that washed through him that he felt the ropes biting into his wrists as he jerked against them. He could see Anders laughing but it was impossible for him to hear anything over the rapid breathing that was shaking his chest. Eyes wide with surprise, he fought to catch his breath, barely having relaxed before he felt his insides stroked again.

"Ah! Maker!" His hands clenched into fists, still pulling at the ropes. His hips bucked into Anders' touch, held down by his free hand. The feeling tightened his groin and he could feel his whole body trembling. "Anders, stop!"

Another push, another stroke. He barely managed to tip his head up, seeing the mage leaning over the table, one hand still inside of him, the other supporting his body as he leaned down, flicking a tongue against the underside of Nate's twitching erection. "That, sweet Nathaniel, sounded more like an order."

His head fell back against the table as he felt heat around the tip of his shaft again. Each suckle, each swirl of that warm, wet tongue, each push, they all had him keening from the back of his throat. If he tried to move his hips, he found Anders shifting to pin them with his body, a reminder that it was the mage in control here, not him. Tension started to coil below his stomach, robbing his gasps of sound as all he could do was suck in breaths to keep from passing out from the pleasure of it. Any moment and he was going to shatter.

"No!"

His cry wasn't from an unbidden release, but from the sudden stop of all of the sensations that had been pushing him over the edge. Anders had suddenly pulled away from him, leaving his body completely empty and exposed. He knew he was whimpering, eyes pleading with the mage to not stop.

"Anders," he groaned.

The mage laughed, currently sliding his own undergarment down his legs. "Mmm, so wanting." He carefully climbed onto the table to kneel between Nathaniel's own legs. He held the oil bottle again, this time the liquid glistened off both his hand and along his own member. "I told you, Nate. If you want your release, you're going to have to beg me for it."

His hands slid up the rogue's thighs to the backs of his knees, raising and pushing his legs back as he shifted closer. The position wasn't uncomfortable, but it left him completely exposed. He could feel the press of Anders' tip against his entrance and swallowed, shaking his head.

"Your stubbornness is going to be what breaks you, my friend."

Nate howled, feeling the mage press his way inside of him. The oil helped, as did what he'd been doing earlier, but it still hurt. And Anders wasn't stopping, easing himself inside until their bodies were pressed together. Mercifully, it was that point he paused, both of them panting hard from the action. Not long enough, though, as he felt him starting to withdraw only to press back inside.

His arms were starting to ache from straining against the bindings, wanting so badly to be able to do something with his hands other than clenching and unclenching them. He could feel the slight rock of his body as Anders slid himself in and out, hands still gripped at his knees, groaning as he moved. The mage leaned forward a little more, changing their angle, pressing deeper, pressing...

Nathaniel sobbed as Anders reached that spot inside of him again, the one that sent lightning all through his body. He felt himself twitch, his muscles clenching around the other man. Anders let out a noise of his own, the intensity causing him to buck his hips, hitting that damn spot again.

"Anders! Maker, please!" The words poured from his lips, his eyes snapping open as soon as he realized what he'd said. They then pinched shut as he groaned. He'd done it. He swore that he wouldn't and the moment he'd been overtaken by pleasure, he'd lost.

He whimpered as Anders let his legs ease back to the table, leaning forward so that his hands were braced over Nathaniel's shoulders. He'd also stopped moving but that didn't mean the ache was going away. Kisses peppered at his lips, broken up by little triumphant smiles.

"I got you to break."

Nathaniel turned his head only to have the kisses turn into nibbles at his ear and jaw. "Let me go, then. You promised."

Anders laughed. "No, I promised you'd get your release if you begged me. I never said aaaanything about letting you go." He punctuated the statement with a slow thrust of his hips, which, of course, made Nathaniel groan.

"You bastard."

"Never make a deal with a demon when they already have you at their mercy." Anders nipped his ear. "What do you want, Nate?" Anders' breath tickled warm against his skin.

"Let me go." He swallowed, his throat pinching, dry from his heavy breathing.

"Wrong answer." Anders began moving again, the rogue's back arching in response, feeling himself being filled once more.

He whimpered. "Anders, stop. Please. I can't-- I want--"

The other man pressed forward again, pulling yet another groan from the noble, and sent a bolt of ice at the rope that was keeping Nathaniel's arms over his head. A sharp tug shattered the binding and he quickly brought his hands up, groaning as he slid his arms around Anders' neck, pulling the mage down to his lips. The two of them practically shared a moan as their tongues began dueling with one another.

"Maker's breath, Mage, I thought you really were going to kill me." Nathaniel let Anders pull back, but only enough to look at him.

Anders chuckled, pressing their foreheads together. "As I seem to recall, this was your idea." He picked his head up, watching the expressions Nate knew were playing over his face as the blonde began to move his hips once more.

"I never dreamed you could be so wicked." He pulled him down into another kiss, his legs wrapping around Anders' thighs, squeezing him as encouragement to move deeper. His head tipped back and another groan rolled from his throat.

He felt a nuzzle there as Anders smiled. "And I never dreamed you'd let me tie you up. I wanted to make sure your trust was well rewarded."

"Mmm, you know, it hasn't been yet." Another squeeze and then he let his lips brush against his partner's ear. "Make me beg, lover. I want to be at your mercy."

Anders grin was just as wicked as it had been initially. "That, my sweet Nathaniel," he purred, "sounds like an order I will happily follow."

[Chibichibi]

I am less broken now.

Promise. Still nearly gnaw through my knuckle when I read this.

and I can't stop. *worships*

[dmronny]

Well written yet again no typos that I spotted at all. My only question is when do you sleep. I only get about 5 hours a day and don't get nearly as much writing done.

[Copper]

I sleep when the sun is up, of course. I also write when I'm shackled to the register at work and just come home and type it up. That, and sometimes the charries just won't shut up until you get the story on paper, so, yeah...

Could be why I get, like, 4 hours of sleep on days I have to work and 12 on days I don't...

Also, now that I've titled the other story, the joke title is "Table-top role-playing games."

[dmronny]

Ah I see, I really need to get one of these jobs where I can do something like writing while at work. Either that or I need to cut my sleeping down to pnly two hours in the morning.

[Copper]

So, apparently I've been slacking in my posting, even though I've been putting these up elsewhere. Chib's introduced me to a story prompt site and I've been filling orders, as it were. Most of it's NatexAnders stuff but I've done a couple with other characters as well, though, yes, still with the mankissing, mostly because I like those characters better than the women. Since the next one's long, the intro will be here and then the story to follow, so I can get it posted in a minimal amount of posts.

This one cropped up with the discussion with Chibi about the AU where the mages were slaves. She started Magic's Slave and I started mine. Same idea, two decidedly different directions. I still like hers better than mine *laughs* It's a Nate and Anders, AU, and rated M for later parts which contain violence, implied violence, implied non-consentual male relations, and some consentual male relations, too. One of these days, I'm throwing a chocobo in as a joke. Also contains a few ending spoilers, pending on choices made, and a few in-game Redcliff and after spoilers, too, but by now, seriously, if you haven't played the game and are reading my stuff, I make no excuses for you.

Anyway, hope you enjoy.

[Copper]

The price of another's sin

"I didn't do it."

Anders held up his hands, easing as far away as possible from the now burning remains of a darkspawn as well as the corpses of the templar that had been his escorts.

"Really?" The leather-clad woman that had just come through the door to see his spell crossed her arms, arching a brow at him. He caught the touch of the Orlesian accent in her voice, recognizing it from the others he'd heard around the keep.

"Well, you saw the darkspawn, but the templar? There's no way I could have done that. They--" He shook his head, hanging it in defeat. "Believe what you want to. I was just defending myself."

"You stand a better chance of doing that coming with us." She indicated the armored warrior that was with her, another woman. "Provided you can do that again."

He merely nodded, looking around. The templar had left his staff propped in the corner, so he retrieved that and fell in step with the two of them as they hurried through the rest of the keep. He thought he might pass out from exhaustion by the time they reached the roof, his companions needing his magic just as much as their blades. He hadn't felt this taxed since his Harrowing.

"Here." The woman rummaged in the bag that she had slung over her shoulder, pulling out a lyrium potion for him to drink.

He blinked at it, taking the vial in his hands. "Thank you." He wasn't sure whether to be grateful or wary. A powerless mage was one that was easier to control, but obviously Zaphyre, as he'd heard her called, didn't care. Undoing the cork, he swallowed it down in two gulps. It was weak, but it took the edge off of his trembling muscles.

Looking around, he was surprised to find that no one was watching him. Zaphyre and Mhairi were talking with the seneschal, and the dwarf they'd picked up, Oghren, seemed more interested in hacking the darkspawn into smaller pieces. He wasn't sure if that was to make them burn better or out of some need to make them bleed even more. He really didn't want to ask.

"Hey, Sparklefingers! Come take care of this, would you?" The dwarf was currently pouring the contents of a small keg over the creatures' remains.

"Er, yes, Ser. Right...Right away." Maybe he should have just made for the door when he had the chance.

"But what did they want?" Zaphyre was saying, rubbing her brow as she stood before Varel, the seneschal. "And why--Oh, Andraste's tits, now what?"

Another protest formed on the mage's lips until he realized that she wasn't talking about him. Old habits died hard. Instead, she seemed to be regarding what looked like a procession that was headed for the main gates of the keep.

Leaving the corpses to burn on the rampart stones, the small group filed down into the courtyard. Whoever was approaching was obviously important, given the entourage that was trailing behind her. Blonde. Attractive but stern looking. His attention then shifted to the woman walking beside her. Oh, Maker, no. He stumbled and Oghren actually caught him before he hit the dirt.

"Easy there, kid. You're making me look bad."

Anders couldn't speak. All he wanted to do was make himself as small and unassuming as possible. Maybe even go hide back inside the keep. Weren't there corpses he could be attending to? Anywhere but under Rylock's gaze. He glanced around, looking for somewhere he might excuse himself to.

Too late. She left the woman's side and approached, hooking her fingers into the collar of his robes, jerking him forward. He immediately dropped his gaze to the ground at their feet.

"Where are your keepers, mage?" When he didn't answer, she pulled harder. "Where are they?"

His jaw trembled, eyes closing. "Dead," he whispered. "Dark--"

He never finished the word. Her mailed hand struck him across the cheek, the metal cutting into his skin. The grip on his robes pulled him downward, forcing him to his knees. "And why is it that you live, then? Finally gone abomination, have you?"

"No." He shook his head. "No, I--" He started to raise his eyes, immediately dropping them to the ground again, letting out a soft whimper as she brought her hand up again.

"Rylock!" The blonde woman's voice halted what he knew was going to be another strike.

"Majesty, he needs to come with us. I need to take him back to the Tower immediately. Someone like him cannot be allowed to be left without supervision for very long."

"That won't be a problem." He risked a look out of the corners of his eyes as he realized that was Zaphyre speaking. "He can stay here. He's already proven useful."

"Unacceptable!" Rylock turned on the smaller woman who gave no sign of backing down to the Templar's fury. "He's already escaped once. He obviously needs a few more lessons on how to properly behave."

"Mage." He didn't dare look over at her, at least not until a second, insistent, "Mage!" had him glancing in her direction, though he still couldn't bring himself to look at her straight on. "I can invoke the Right of Conscription. You stay here, but that makes you mine."

"I won't allow it!" Rylock stalked over and glared at Zaphyre.

"The Right doesn't give a damn about what you want. And neither do I." The other woman shifted her shoulders back, rolling her neck. "Well?" She seemed to be ignoring the seething templar.

She was actually giving him a choice? Admittedly, though, it wasn't much of one. Go back to the Tower with Rylock and be forced into more conditioning or serve a woman he knew nothing about...other than she'd been willing to trust him with guarding her back.

He turned, bowing his head once more, though this time it was in deference to the Warden. "I'm yours, my lady."

There was the sound of rattling metal as Rylock stalked over again, seizing his robes at the shoulder and hauling him to his feet. He barely managed to stand before she pulled him in close to her, hissing in his ear. "Maybe I ought to become one of the Grey, too, mage. She obviously needs the numbers. Then there'd be someone around here that knows how to keep you in line."

Eyes shut, he didn't dare say anything, nor look over at Zaphyre. Either one would give Rylock leave to strike him again. Constant discipline was the way the templars made sure their lessons took. He only hoped she couldn't feel him shaking, though that was probably impossible.

"I'll just take the mage, thank you." He couldn't believe the constant cheek that came out of the diminutive woman's mouth. Something like that would have gotten him beaten. Or worse. He supposed being a Commander afforded you leeway that others didn't have. "And now, Anora, was it? If there's nothing else, I believe I have a keep to begin clean up within."

He snuck a look at the blonde from under his lashes. Queen Anora looked less than pleased with the dismissal. Just what sort of madwoman had he agreed to serve?

The grip on his robes tightened, drawing his attention back to the templar that was still holding him. "Don't think you've won, mage," Rylock hissed, keeping her tone for his ears alone. "The first time you make a mistake, I'll have you back to the Tower and then I'll see that you never leave again."

Shoving him roughly away, she strode back across the courtyard and formed rank a couple of steps behind the queen as she and her small group of guards made their way out through the battered gates. Anders watched them go with mixed feelings, the most predominant one being the dread that had settled in his stomach.

Varel and Zaphyre seemed deep in conversation and he was vaguely aware that Oghren was hitting on Mhairi, if his constant slew of remarks about her breasts could be taken as such. He'd been forgotten about for now and that suited him just fine. He'd survived this long by doing his best to remain invisible and saw no need to change tactics.

Somewhere in the darkness beside him, though, something groaned. Starting, he turned toward the sound and squinted between a pair of storage buildings, suddenly realizing that there was someone lying there. Walking over, he knelt down, getting a better look at the man that seemed to have been tossed into the barrels that were splintered behind him.

"Mercy, please," he managed to rasp out.

Without thinking, Anders reached out with his magic, a glow beginning around his hand and trailing down as he passed it over the man's chest, feeling the tugs of it as the power knit bone and flesh, mending what had been damaged. The man's neck arched and he groaned in pain as the energies began putting him back together.

"Mage! What are you doing?"

He immediately stopped, the man letting out another groan as he did so. Turning to face Zaphyre, he saw her stalking over toward them. "He's...I was..." What an idiot. He'd cast without order. Even if it meant saving the man's life, there was no way he could excuse himself from that.

She took in the situation with a quick glace. "Andraste's knickers, man, what are you waiting for? Fix him!" She waggled her hand at him.

"Yes. Of course. Right away." He didn't hesitate a second time, pouring more of his magic into finishing what he'd started. Despite the whimpers and groans of pain, the man was soon breathing easier and on his feet again with Zaphyre's help.

As she sent him on his way back to the interior of the keep, Anders remained kneeling on the ground, waiting for her to say something about his breach of order. When he heard her footsteps along the stone, he risked glancing up, watching her retreating toward the door herself. There were worse punishments, he supposed. Unless she was just going inside to get something to beat him with. Just kneeling here until she fetched him, though, that was something he could endure.

"Mage!"

He winced. Could he do nothing right? Then again, Zaphyre wasn't exactly giving him any orders to follow, either. He turned enough to let her know that he was looking at her, his eyes trailing up just a little.

"We've a ceremony to perform. Come on."

*
The potion that he'd drunk had been vile tasting and he'd woken up on the floor of Varel's quarters after enduring what seemed like an eternity of seeing darkspawn screaming in his head. Pushing himself up to a sitting position, he groaned, putting his head in his hand, eyes pinched shut to escape the wave of nausea that washed over him.

"Easy now. It's always worse the first time," said a soft voice beside him. Zaphyre knelt there with a mug of water in her hand.

"Thank you." He took the mug, realizing that his hands were shaking. Bringing it to his lips, he swallowed it down in three gulps, which made him cough.

Her hand rubbed small circles on his back. "Take it easy. There's more, if you want it."

When he could breathe again, he glanced around, realizing that they were alone in the room. But Oghren and Mhairi had... He brought a hand up, massaging his eye with the heel of his hand. "What--?"

"You survived the Joining. You're a Grey Warden now."

"Oh. I...suppose I should thank you." He smiled a little, realizing that his cheek was still sore from when Rylock had hit him.

"You served well, fighting for my home. I thought you might like to continue doing that."

"If that's your will."

"I think that it is."

"As you bid then." He bowed his head to her as best he was able, waiting on her to give her next order.

With a soft grunt, she pushed herself to her feet and he could hear her walking away once more. Maker take him, this felt like some kind of test. Did he stay silent? Did he speak? He hated when people played these games. They never told the players the rules, only using them as an excuse to abuse their power over others.

"Commander?" He heard her stop and braced himself for whatever might follow. When nothing did, he licked his lips and continued. "What...What do you bid of me now?"

She was quiet a moment. "Rest for now. There will be plenty of work come the morrow." And she vanished out of the room.

Pushing himself to his feet, Anders hugged his arms around his chest. What had he been dropped in to? Zaphyre's attitude toward him was puzzling. She didn't truly order him around and he was actually frightened by the liberty he seemed to have been given. In the Circle, there was no such leeway. You did what you were told or you were beat for it. If you were lucky. Lessons, chores, sleep, that was all. Unless the templar had something else in mind. The ones like Carroll, he didn't mind. They simply watched over him, made sure he did his duty and didn't turn into a raging abomination under their watch. Then there were the others... He moved closer to the fire, feeling the uncomfortable sensation that crept along his skin. They were the ones that made sure the mages were properly "disciplined." Ones like Rylock that reveled in their power over those that had no say in how they were treated. The ones that had made him want to flee in the first place.

It was a foolish venture and he should have known that he'd be caught eventually. And yet it was better to try and fail than to keep living as he had been. Perhaps part of him had hoped that the templar that had captured him would have killed him for it. He should be so lucky. No, they thought bringing him back to the Tower was a much better idea. They also thought telling him, in great detail, what sort of disciplinary measures were waiting for him would make him all the more eager to go.

As it had gotten late, they sought quarters for the night here at Vigil's Keep. The Wardens had welcomed them in and given the group of them private rooms away from the main barracks. He'd settled into one corner, hoping that the other men would either nod off right away or get so engrossed in either cups or cards that they'd forget he was even there. Mercifully, three of them had. The other saw fit to wait until the others were snoring.

That might have been what saved his life. The fact that when the darkspawn had burst into the room, he'd been awake and able to conjure up enough magic to defend himself. He rubbed his brow. Defend himself. Maybe Rylock was right and he had killed the templar, even if it was by his inaction. Maker help him, maybe he did deserve to be punished.

"Hey, Sparklefingers!"

Oghren's boisterous voice startled him out of his thoughts. "S-Ser?"

"Having a wake for the fallen. C'mon." The dwarf staggered away from the door. Perhaps he'd already started celebrating.

In truth, Anders didn't feel like getting drunk. Not that he'd ever had the luxury, mind you. You simply didn't give something that lowered inhibitions to someone that was supposed to be in control of themselves under any circumstances.

Remain in control. That was the templars' excuse for their abuses. Many claimed that they were merely conditioning the mages to hold on to both their emotions and their wits under any circumstances. He snorted. Any circumstances. Those often included what any sane person might consider torture: beatings, whippings, grueling physical tasks. And then there were the other methods, usually in the form of belittling them with words, reminding them just how worthless they were. Not to mention...He shook his head. The sour feeling in the pit of his stomach didn't feel like letting his mind travel that particular route.

He'd often thought they acted this way to try and push the mages into becoming abominations. After all, that would be the perfect excuse. A mage going mad, needing to be put down. He often wondered why more didn't favor that method of escape, but the simple answer was in what he had been taught about abominations. Once you gave yourself over to the demon, it was no better than being a slave to the templar. You were no longer in control. Your body simply became a host for the denizen of the Fade that you conjured up and even if life was a living hell in the Tower, it was still your life.

His attempt had been different. Opportunity had presented itself and he took it. Even his short few weeks of freedom had been bliss compared to what he'd left behind, despite the fact that he'd been sleeping against the ground, stealing his meals where he could. For the first time in his life, he'd actually felt in control. And then the templar had found him and his dreams has been rent to the hells. Still, he'd had his taste of freedom and it would be enough to succor him, or so he'd prayed.

The Maker had a funny way of answering his children.

Oghren's promised wake seemed to consist of dinner and the dwarf passing out under the table while the other two Wardens sat in relative silence. He found out from Zaphyre that Mhairi had not survived the Joining, having passed while he was unconscious and dreaming. After that bit of news, they had little more to say to one another, though Anders' mind cycled through a good number of questions that he wasn't sure were appropriate to ask.

Zaphyre, for her part, still continued to puzzle him. She seemed to hold no fear of his being a mage, so she was either ignorant of their potential or, and he was guessing this, didn't give a damn. She was petite, even for a woman, with dark curls and fair eyes that he wasn't sure were green or a pale brown. Possessing a grace he'd only seen in cats, she also seemed to have the demeanor of a thundercloud, at times quietly rolling along and others raging fierce. To say she was the most fascinating woman he'd ever met wouldn't quite be fair, given he had few to compare her to. She was, however, slowly becoming his ideal, a thought that likely should have scared him if he'd been thinking a little straighter.

"Commander?" Varel approached from the far end of the hall.

Anders caught her pinching the bridge of her nose before she looked up, her face a perfectly calm and saccharine mask. "What is it, seneschal?"

"Another matter has come to our attention. It seems that before the darkspawn attacked, the other Wardens had captured a prisoner."

"Prisoner? I was unaware we even had dungeons." She laughed softly.

Anders wondered if that spoke more of her nature. To live in such a world that didn't need things like that. He realized that she was rising and quickly got to his feet as well.

The woman tutted over him. "Stay and eat. You're too thin as it is and being a Warden will only make your appetite worse. Varel, I hope the larder is well stocked?"

"Your fellow Wardens have been living here for half a year, Commander."

"Very good then. Show me to this prisoner."

Anders sank back down to the bench, watching the two of them walk out. To leave him alone like this would be unthinkable back at the Circle. Granted he wasn’t exactly alone, but he had a feeling Oghren wouldn‘t be moving until sunrise. And even then he wasn‘t sure.

Claiming another roll, he picked at it, nibbling on bits of crust that he pulled away. Maybe tucking some of these away for later wouldn’t be a bad idea. He glanced around to make sure some stray servant wouldn't notice him slipping one or two into his sleeves. And Zaphyre had told him to stay and eat, so a second helping of stew wouldn’t be completely out of the question. She’d eaten three herself.

He was sopping up the remnants of his gravy with yet another roll when Zaphyre and Varel returned. Trailing after them was a young man, around his age or perhaps a few summers older. He was dressed in plain clothing, though a guard trailed after the other three carrying what looked like leather armor, a blade, and with a bow slung over his shoulder. Black hair framed a face that was made up of sharp lines and a rather thin set pair of lips. Though the other two saw fit to ignore him, Anders felt himself keeping very still as the man glanced his way, one brow arching higher in surprise as he caught sight of him sitting there.

Sucking in a breath, the mage quickly dropped his gaze to the table in front of him, though he watched the small procession from the corner of his eyes, realizing that the three of them were headed into the western portion of the keep, where Varel’s quarters were located. The guard branched off and went east, toward the barracks. He waited until he couldn’t hear their footsteps any more and pushed himself up, meal forgotten, and trailed after them.

The door was shut by the time he got there, but leaning close, he could make out Varel’s quiet voice speaking a bit of...poetry? No. No, it was the words from his own Joining. They were making the prisoner into a Warden? He supposed it was no different than his own situation. He heard the other man speak, unable to make out his words through the door. Silence, and then the sound of a body hitting the floor.

Varel again. “The young Howe is strong, Commander. For good or ill, he will live.”

“Leave us, then. I’ll tend to him when he wakes.”

“Commander.”

Hearing Varel’s footsteps, Anders began his retreat back to the hall. He wasn’t quick enough, though, stopping as he heard the seneschal calling out to him. Head bowed, hands folded in front of him, he turned slowly toward the older man. Varel had seemed indifferent to him for the most part, but then, he hadn't gone out of his way to interact with the man, either.

“You noticed our newest recruit, I see.”

“Yes, Ser. He’s...the prisoner you spoke of?” He raised his eyes just slightly.

“Aye. Took four Wardens to capture him the first time. And she’s all but turned him loose.”

“Who...?” He hesitated. “Who is he, Ser?”

“Nathaniel Howe. He’s the son of the former arl. The man was killed during the Blight and the lands granted to the Wardens by the Queen. The Commander spoke to him but won’t tell me what was said. I only wonder if she didn’t expect him to survive the Joining.”

“Like Mhairi?” he asked quietly.

“Something like that. Though our Mhairi wanted to be a member of the Grey. Young Howe...” He trailed off. “I wonder if the hangman’s noose would have been kinder.”

Anders found himself unconsciously rubbing at his neck, stopping the second Varel’s attention was on him again. “I’m sorry to have bothered you, Ser.” He dropped his gaze again.

“Curiosity’s only natural. Now, back to the hall with you. Tarry too long and the servants will clean up dinner before you’re done.”

A little smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. “Yes, Ser.” Bowing to the other man, with a bit of a nod thrown in for emphasis, he turned and hurried back, definitely not wanting the pot cleared away before he’d had a chance at a third bowl himself.

*
To say the following days were interesting would have been an understatement. Anders mostly did his best to stay out of the way, or more specifically, out of Zaphyre's way as she blew from room to room, taking stock in what had been damaged, what supplies were needed, and just how badly the Wardens here had been decimated by the attack.

For the most part, his duty was to see that the pyres for the corpses stayed lit until the bodies were nothing but ash. It wasn't the best smelling job he could have been assigned, but the solitude at least gave him time to think and enjoy the idea of simply being outside.

Land had been cleared well away from the Keep, so he was left here unsupervised. Had he chose to, he didn't doubt he could have been halfway to Amaranthine before they realized that he wasn't actually there any longer. And yet, he truly possessed no desire to run away.

Zaphyre allowed him to use his magic as he saw fit, even encouraging it, so long as he wasn't doing anything to harm anyone else. And the only time that idea crossed his mind was when his mind drifted back to times in the Tower. He tried his best to not linger on those moments, though, preferring the present much more than the past.

The Keep itself, though large, didn't hold a lot of people, thanks to the darkspawn attack. A handful of servants survived the night and they were quite enough to tend to the four Wardens and the few important guests that still resided in the Vigil proper. Though Anders had expressed a willingness to help, Zaphyre refused to let him, outside of the occasional flame to light the hearths or healing spell when one of the dwarven masons had a bad turn with the stone. He wasn't used to being idle, so he was grateful when she finally put him to work.

[Copper]

A grunt brought his attention to the path that led toward the keep. Sagged under the weight of the body he was carrying, Nathaniel Howe looked none too pleased to be carting a hurlock corpse out to the pyres. He dumped it onto a pile that had yet to be lit.

"Least this one's pretty cooked already," he remarked, stretching his back. "Should make good kindling for the others."

Anders went still for a moment before turning to look at the mound of bodies. "What did you say, Ser?"

"I said this one looks like he was cooked already. I wonder if he got too close to that insane dwarf's lightning powder."

"Perhaps." He found himself having a hard time swallowing. "Were...Were there more corpses to bring?"

"Aye. Poor group of sods it looks like this one's friends tore through them easily enough." Nathaniel shook his head. "She'll probably have me carting them out next." His tone was bitter. He started to walk away when his footfalls stopped. "What's wrong, Mage. Are you ill from all this?"

The templars. He was going to be bringing out the templars next. Anders had brought his hand up, covering his mouth, eyes pinched shut. He could already see the bodies: the gashes from the blades, places where teeth had rent flesh, a peppering of genlock arrows that had stilled the man that had been kneeling in front of him. All he could do was shake his head.

"I'll see if Zaphyre has another potion for you, if that's what you need." Nathaniel didn't seem certain, but he was obviously not going to trouble himself over Anders' distress.

He could only shake his head again. He just wanted the other man to go away, to be left with his...his what? It certainly wasn't grief. His guilt? Evidence of his crime? Whatever it was, he wasn't sure if he was going to be able to face it. Suddenly running away to Amaranthine didn't seem all that bad.

When he opened his eyes, Nathaniel had gone. His attention going to the path, he caught sight of his retreating back. Frowning, Anders walked over and sat on a toppled log, sliding his hands through his hair. It seemed only fitting, really. This was how everything began, so why shouldn't he be the one to put an end to it, too?

As he waited for Nathaniel to return with the first of the bodies, he frowned again as a thought struck him. Nathaniel would be returning with the bodies. Rylock had made her displeasure at their deaths abundantly clear. He reached up, brushing at the spot where his cheek was still a little tender. Thanks to some herbs Zaphyre had slapped onto his face, there wouldn't be any scar and the cut had healed up rather nicely. So why, if this were an offense she was going to beat him for, were the bodies still here? These were men that she would have killed him over, of that he had no doubt. He'd have been dead on the spot if Zaphyre hadn't been there. And for what? Something that she obviously equated with garbage, if she hadn't sent someone to collect the bodies yet, or at least sent word on how to take care of them.

Less than garbage. Less than a corpse. That's all his life was worth to her. And she would have left him here to burn alongside them. Realizing something like that...he knew how some of the templar felt about mages but this...this put it into an entirely different perspective.

It made him sick.

Raising his head, he fixed his gaze on the pyre that was still cool. A second later, his hand stretched out and a column of flame began whipping around the pile of corpses there, spiraling upward and roaring as it sucked in the air around it, igniting that as well. Fire seemed to stretch up to the clouds and outward as well, beginning to engulf the other mounds. Pushing himself up, he moved closer to the blaze, increasing its intensity with his proximity. Even as close to the flame as he was, he barely felt the heat from it, hardly noticing anything beyond the embers that were starting to rain down.

Something thrummed near his ear. "...ge. Mage! Anders!"

His legs were swept out from under him and his backside hit the ground so hard that he couldn't even suck in breath. Panic washed over him then, especially as he felt a hand gripping his shoulder. Smacking it away, he managed to hiss out "Don't touch me!" before he called upon frost this time, solidifying the air into a pair of rather jagged spikes. Sensing someone behind him, he spun around, whipping the first bolt toward them, hearing it connect with something solid. As fast as he threw them, they were forming in his hand once again, though none seemed to be finding their mark a second time.

Kneeling on the ground, the fire still roaring behind him, he flicked his eyes back and forth, trying to locate who or what it was that struck him. He just caught the movement at his back when something sliced along his arm. Hissing again, he tried lashing out at it but connected with nothing.

"I'm not giving in, you hear me?" he growled. "Not again. Not without a fight." Another shadow flickered just out of his line of sight and as soon as he replaced his tossed bolt, nausea caused his stomach to lurch.

Maker what was wrong with him? His vision started to blur and he was seeing double at the same time. Dropping one of the ice bolts, he brought a cold hand to his forehead to try and clear it. It didn't help as a wash of dizziness overcame him and it was a very good thing he was kneeling already.

Before he blacked out, he swore he heard, "Sorry, Mage" from the shadows around him.
*
Waking again, he found himself tucked into his bed, brow furrowing as he did his best to remember how he got there.

The shadows. Fighting with someone. The fire. Oh, Maker, he was a dead man. Sent back to the Circle, no questions asked. Running away to Amaranthine was looking exceptional at the moment.

Sitting up, he felt a sting as he tried to move his arm. Shaking his head, he lay a hand over the wound and felt the cut there stitching up of its own accord, helped along by his magic. That done, he slid carefully from the bed and went over to try the door. Unlocked. Something was going right for him. Now if he could just leave the Keep without being seen by anyone, he might be fine.

Padding as quietly as he could down the corridor, he froze as he caught sight of two figures in the main hall of the Keep. One was reclining on a bench set beside the hearth, the other, smaller one stood in front of them. He peeked around the corner, trying to listen in and figure if it would be safe enough to try and slip by. As they spoke, he realized it was Nate and Zaphyre.

“Nathaniel.” For some reason, he liked hearing their commander say the rogue’s name, even if it sounded like she was lecturing him. “I trust you have a very good reason for poisoning your fellow Warden?"

"I was concerned. You saw the aftermath of that blaze he conjured up."

"I had given him instructions to burn the corpses. Perhaps he was being thorough?"

"Somehow, Commander, I rather doubt that. Especially given that I feared he was going to cast on me next." It must have been Nathaniel he was lashing out at, then. At least the other man wasn't telling Zaphyre about how he'd tried to freeze him on top of setting everything else on fire.

"Which explains why you carried him into the Vigil?"

“I am not seeking vindication for my actions, Commander. You asked me to explain myself and I told you."

"And yet, you still have not told me why you felt it necessary to strike him unconscious."

"He's a mage," Nathaniel replied, as if that were the answer right there and for some, it would be.

"And?" Zaphyre pressed. "I'm well aware of that fact."

He could see the man rubbing at his forehead above the bridge of his nose. "You're Orlesian, Commander. Been in Ferelden for very long?"

She shook her head. "Just how long it took me to cross to the arling."

"That explains a few things. I take it you also haven't had dealings with many mages?"

"Constantly, actually."

"But back in Orlais?" She replied affirmatively. "And I take it your Circle there was unaware of what happened during the Blight?"

"I fail to see what that has to do with anything."

Anders leaned against the wall. It had everything to do with it. Uldred. The blood mages. Irving's death. Wynne had tried to be a good example but one rose amid a bundle of deathroot made it no less poisonous. And then, after Cullen had succeeded Greagoir... He shook his head. That had been the beginning of the end.

Nathaniel, it seemed, was giving their commander a similar history lesson. Either word had spread that far or he was quick to gather information upon his return. Anders figured it had to be a little bit of both.

"I don't know if that was what might have been happening with Anders, but I didn't want to take the risk, and I wasn't about to kill him without explanation. Mages always have a templar around to keep an eye on them, to prevent that sort of lashing out and to keep them under control. You don't require that of him and I don't think he's used to the latitudes that you're giving him, Commander. When it comes to his magic, he has no one to rein him in and when it comes to his life, he has no one to keep him grounded."

"I see." Zaphyre remained quiet for a few moments, her lips pursed together. "I, for one, am already being pulled in too many directions at once, it seems. There are days I can barely tend to myself." She laughed softly. "Therefore, I defer to you, Nathaniel."

"I beg your pardon, Commander?" Anders nearly asked the same question.

She waved a hand at him. "If he's used to taking orders from someone, I give you that task. Oghren would have him fetching ale all the time and Varel has to tend to me. That's no good. You mind him."

"But, Commander, I'm not--"

She arched a brow at him. "You tell me these things and I have come up with a solution and now you tell me it's no good? Are you incapable of tending to a grown man, Nathaniel? It's not as though I'm asking you to feed and bathe him. Surely he can do that by himself."

"Commander, you don't understand. Mages are--"

"No! You will do this." Maker help them, she stomped her foot. "This time it is an order."

Nathaniel glowered at her. "Fine."

Anders swallowed. So Nathaniel was to be his new keeper. Zaphyre was right, it could have been worse. It could have been Oghren. Still, if you gave a man a task he didn't want to do, that usually meant trouble somewhere down the line and past experience taught him that the trouble usually fell to the one lowest down.

They started walking together, headed for...Andraste's knickers, the rooms. He pushed himself away from the wall and scrambled to get ahead of them, hurrying back to his quarters before Zaphyre knew he'd snuck out. Something in the back of his mind told him that she might not exactly care, but she wasn't in charge of him any longer. That duty fell to the stern man that was walking beside her.

He was barely back in his room, sitting placidly upon the bed when she knocked. "Anders, may I come in?"

Before he could answer, the door was opened by Nathaniel. "You have company, Mage."

Closing his eyes for a moment, he swallowed, repressing the shudder that wanted to run through him. "Commander?" He sat on the bed, fists on his knees, not looking at the door.

Zaphyre snorted, casting Nathaniel a look. "I have been informed of something that I have apparently been rather lax in. From this evening on, should you need anything, I wish for you to consult with Nathaniel."

He tried to keep his shoulders from drooping. "As you bid, Commander," he breathed out softly.

"Good. I'll have Varel bring your things here, then, Nathaniel." She gave him a little shove that propelled him into the room and turned to go, pulling the door shut behind her.

"My things? What? Commander there isn't a--" She was already gone, either not hearing him or, more likely, ignoring him. "Need for that extreme. Maker's breath, I don't need to live beside the man."

"The Commander's put you in charge of me, then, hasn't she?"

Nathaniel rubbed his brow, frowning. "Yes."

Anders stared at his fists. "As you bid, then," he murmured quietly, pushing himself to his feet to cross the room. He knew he had to give up his bed to Nathaniel and if he was to sleep on the floor, he'd prefer to do so near the fire, though the hearth was cool at the moment.

"There'll be no talking her out of this," he heard the other man mumble. Anders watched as he crossed the room, picking at the straps of his leathers as he did. "Do something about that fire, would you?"

"Yes, Ser." Anders held up a hand and tossed a small ball of flame into the kindling that was piled there.

Nathaniel jumped and let out a curse. "Don't do that!"

"I'm sorry.” He held up his hands, shrinking back a little, and taking care to keep his head bowed. “That‘s what the Commander's had me do. I--"

Nathaniel let out a sigh. "Just...no more fire spells without warning me first, all right, Mage?"

"Yes, Ser." He held in his relieved sigh that he hadn’t completely begun this on the wrong foot. He'd grown much too comfortable with the way Zaphyre treated him.

The other man went about stripping out of his leathers again, pulling at shoulder straps and ones on his side. It seemed a rather tedious process overall, but, in no small part thanks to him, they'd been necessary today.

Anders swallowed. "Shall I help?"

Nathaniel stopped, one hand hovering over a buckle, a dark brow arching. "Eager to please, are we, Mage?"

Ice settled in his stomach at those words. Anyone...Anyone...that had ever said that to him wanted more than what was originally asked.

"Y-Yes, Ser." He closed his eyes, the words barely passing his lips. He'd made the offer. It was his own fault.

"Come here, then. Get the top ones. I've a devil of a time with them." Nathaniel held out an arm, letting him see another pair of buckles just below where his arm met his chest.

Walking over, he reached a hand out slowly, fumbling with the strap, forcing it loose and separating the two portions of leather on that side. He walked around and repeated the task on the other. Risking a quick glance up, he caught the curious look on the rogue's face and began to help him ease the armor over his head. He saw a light shirt emerge from beneath the firmer garment.

There was no stand to drape the suit on. Not even chairs. He simply stood there, holding the top half of the armor while Nathaniel divested himself of the bottom. Once it was on a heap in the floor, the dark-haired man looked over at him.

"You'd stand there the whole night, holding that, if I told you to, wouldn't you?"

Anders stared at the floor. "If that's what you wanted." He didn't like the idea of giving the other man ideas.

"Well, drop it. And ready yourself for bed. Commander wants to see us in the morning."

"Ser?" Had he just said...?

He gestured toward the rest of it. "They're only leathers. Leaving them in a pile once or twice won‘t ruin them." He chuckled, heading for the bed. "Suppose you wouldn't know that, though, would you?" He sighed. "Maker's breath, please tell me I don't have to do your thinking for you, too."

Anders didn't trust himself to keep his tongue in check while answering that statement, so, for the time being, he remained mute. He dropped the breast plate on top of the skirts and then hesitated. Nathaniel had told him to ready for bed, but...

"Not tired?"

"I am. I just..."

"Then rest. I served in a company that didn't stand much on ceremony. You won't be the first man I've lain with."

Anders shook his head. He couldn't mean it that way. He prayed to Andraste he didn't mean it that way. "I don't have--"

"What, Mage?" There was that arch of a brow again.

He tugged on his robes. "These are all I have. The Commander fit me with more garments like this, but I don't have..." He gestured to the casual garments the other man was wearing.

"I won't take issue with that, Anders. We're both men. You possess nothing I don't."

The mage swallowed again. "As...As you bid, then." He turned his back on the other man, first kicking off his boots and then pulling his robes off over his head. Leaving them near the hearth, he slowly turned around and walked toward the bed.

It didn't help that Nathaniel was watching him. He hugged at his arms, rubbing a hand up and down his bicep. Given that his eyes never wandered up that far, he couldn't tell where Nathaniel was actually looking at him.

"You're acting like a worried bride, Mage. I'm not going to rape you in your sleep."

He cringed. Hearing it put so bluntly, he didn't know whether to take it for a jest or yet another promise that might yet be broken. Some of the templar had started out not caring but there weren't always female mages around to keep them occupied. Not to mention you needn't worry about siring a child with a male partner.

Nathaniel chuckled softly. "That was in poor taste. Come to bed, Anders. You'll catch your death outside the covers."

That invitation made him feel only slightly better. Still, at least he'd been told to get under the covers. Nate himself was still lying on top of them. He climbed into bed, shuffling around a little until he was comfortable, praying silently that Nathaniel wouldn't take it for more nervousness, even if it was.

“Remind me to talk to the commander in the morning,” Nathaniel murmured. “I’ll see about getting you something to sleep in.” He rolled over onto his side. “Though I’d prefer it if it were your own room.” The murmur sort of trailed off.

Anders lay awake for some time, just listening to Nathaniel's steady breathing. Any time the man shifted in his sleep, the mage tensed, expecting him to roll over and--

He shook his head and curled up a little tighter. What did it matter if he were awake or asleep when it happened? If it's what Nathaniel wanted, it wasn't his place to refuse. Lying here worrying about it was only going to make him even more tired come the morning. Forcing his own breathing to even out, he allowed himself to finally drift off, the Fade being mercifully quiet for him this night.
*
Despite what he'd overheard between the noble and the Commander, he came to find that Nathaniel was taking care of him, even if the other man wasn't obvious about it. His attention often came across as simple gestures or quiet words, something Anders was definitely not used to hearing out of someone who held dominion over him. He asked him to do things for him instead of ordering him to. And no matter what the task, he would find some way to let the mage exercise his abilities, should they be appropriate. That, it amused him to realize, seemed to be as much a test for Nathaniel as it was for him, the rogue almost training himself not to flinch whenever he would use his magic. To his credit, he was getting better and it was only the fire spells that really bothered him the most anymore.

During the evenings, too, Nathaniel kept true to his word, often merely falling asleep with nothing more than a quiet 'good night' passing between the two of them. He'd procured lighter robes for Anders to sleep in, the simple garments providing the mage with a measure of comfort that he couldn't put into words. He no longer jolted awake whenever he felt the bed shift and found himself falling asleep from genuine tiredness rather than finally passing out from exhaustion or simply not being able to keep his eyes open any longer.

This was probably the most important thing, since Zaphyre remained adamant that the two continue to share the room. Varel offered to bring in a second bed, though Anders found himself quietly requesting that he not.

The seneschal arched a brow. "Care to tell me why?"

Anders worried his lower lip for a moment, eyes slowly drifting up to meet those of the older man. "I...trust him, Ser. I'm not...afraid of him or anything that he might do. Having him beside me means that I can sleep and not worry about," he trailed off, barely mouthing out the word, "memories."

"Fair enough, then," came a quiet reply, there being more in the statement than simple acquiescence and he was grateful that he chose not to press.

Regardless of his feelings though, it wasn't above saying that there weren't a few problems with the two of them sharing a bed.

He was woken one morning by a sharp kick to his leg. Coming awake instantly, he looked up and around, expecting to see an angry Rylock standing over him. Even after everything, he sometimes still found himself disoriented in the morning, fearing that when he opened his eyes, he'd be back at the Circle, that his time with the Wardens was nothing more than a Fade-dream.

Relaxing back to the mattress, he started again when he heard a whimper beside him. Rolling over, he blinked Nathaniel into focus, realizing that the other man was twitching in his sleep, letting out soft, distressed sounds.

"Ser?" He cleared his throat, letting his voice come out a little stronger. "Ser?" No response, save another whimper and a slight flail of his hand. Anders frowned and reached over, giving him a little shake at his shoulder.

Before he could take in another breath, Nathaniel had rolled over, seizing the offending hand with one of his own and pinned it to the bed. His other arm stretched across Anders' neck, the give of the mattress the only thing that was saving him from completely choking from the hold.

"Nathan--" he rasped out. "Nate?"

Blinking, the other man seemed to come more awake. Realizing the position they were in, his eyes widened and he abruptly released his hold, pulling away and looking at his hands as if they had suddenly grown claws. His worried gaze traveled over to the mage. "Anders, I'm sorry. I'm--"

He managed a weak smile. "Was my own fault, Ser. I shouldn't have disturbed you."

"No. No, it was not. I was...dreaming. The darkspawn." He rubbed his brow. "I suppose certain habits don't go away, even when you're sleeping. I'm sorry."

Anders shook his head to refuse the apology again. "I'm sorry, too, Ser."

The rogue shook his head. "You've nothing to apologize for, but I have a feeling we'd be arguing circles around that statement for days, so," he took a breath, "thank you, at any rate, for waking me from that dream." He frowned, presumably at the memory of it. "And as long as we are awake, what say you to some breakfast?"

He managed a little smile. "Sounds wonderful, Ser."

[Copper]

After that, the day passed like many of the others: the four wardens would train together, or rather, the other three would train and Anders was mostly there to make sure they didn't accidentally kill one another. Most of his participation was more on the declaration of his spells rather than any attempts at casting them, as Zaphyre didn't want anything destructive potentially damaging what she was trying to have repaired.

While they were taking a break, Varel approached and motioned for Zaphyre to join him. The three men stood together, watching the commander and starting to share a worried look at her body language. The Orlesian first crossed her arms, then shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Then came the tipping back of her head, followed immediately by it sagging forward. Dismissing the seneschal with a wave, she padded back over to them.

"Our practice is over for today. It would seem that I must be a proper," something came out in Orlesian before she corrected herself. "Arlessa. Our Varel has been keeping this little gathering a secret from me, as I think he fears I would rush off and hunt down the darkspawn instead. By the evening, we should have guests arriving. I wish for you all to join me. You are my Wardens, after all."

Surprisingly, nothing spiked in Anders' chest as she used the possessive term. It could be because he was more worried about being surrounded by a gathering of the banns and other important people of the arling.

"And how would you have us dress, Commander? As Wardens or as members of your house?" He looked over as Nathaniel asked that, the question seeming to make the notion that the man was the son of the former arl all the more pointed. Most of the time, he was simply Nathaniel.

"I've no wish for you to have to stand in court in your armor, but I haven't the time to send you to the city, either." She waved a hand dismissively. "See what the other Wardens left behind. They surely won't mind." A wry smile twisted at her lips.

"Great. Time to go see if I still have those clown pants," Oghren muttered under his breath.

Anders thought it wise not to ask, instead sharing a bow with Nathaniel and then following him into the Keep. They found themselves in one of the chambers that had been set aside for storage.

"Check the trunks there, Anders. I'll search these."

"What...what should I look for?"

"Something fancy that will fit." The rogue was already picking through the first chest.

Anders looked down at the robe he was wearing, one of the salvaged ones Zaphyre had given him on his second day, after she realized he hadn't changed out of the one that he'd been wearing.

"Can't I just wear these?"

Nathaniel shook his head. "You'll blend in more if you're in formal attire. Trust me." He stood, walking over with a shirt that looked like embroidered white silk. "Turn around."

Anders obediently presented his back, feeling the garment pressed against his shoulders. "What should I expect at this gathering?" What he really wanted to ask was 'How should I behave?' but he didn't think Nathaniel would give him the answer he wanted.

"That should fit. Now you just need breeches," he continued absently. Returning to the trunk, he drew out something in a dark blue for himself, holding it up and frowning as he set it aside. "I've a feeling we'll be expected to simply stand there and remain present but invisible to our commander's honored guests," Nathaniel remarked, picking through more of the clothes in his trunk. "This is her ceremony, after all."

Anders chuckled softly. "Then I shouldn't be much of an embarrassment to you, Ser. Being ignored is something I do my best to encourage."

Nate stopped his search and sighed, pushing himself to his feet. "Anders--"

The mage knew what was coming, simply standing there, his head bowed, hands folded in front of him. He certainly wasn't expecting the brush of fingers through his hair, picking his head up in surprise.

"You're a member of the Grey, Mage. You have every right to be there, same as us. And don't let anyone tell you differently." A crooked smile played at the rogue's lips. "Besides, Oghren's going to be there. I have a feeling he'll be drawing enough attention for all of us."

Anders' couldn't help it. A soft laugh escaped his lips. "He is quite the distraction, isn't he?"

Nathaniel shook his head. "You should have heard him the other night, screaming about something called schleets and going on about eyeballs. Took a whole keg to calm him down."

Hiding his mouth behind his hand, Anders found himself chuckling. Nathaniel reached up and took hold of his hand, drawing it away. Clearing his throat, Anders did his best to get his laughter under control, his eyes turned down again.

"You don't laugh often enough. And you certainly don't seem to smile much, either."

"Haven't really had much cause, Ser." His gaze flicked up. "Not until here."

A very faint smile came to the other man's lips. "Then I'm glad we've given you a reason to."

Anders dropped his gaze again, feeling a warmth starting to creep to his cheeks. Gently sliding his fingers away from Nathaniel's, he turned to put his attention on searching through the trunks again, grateful that he could hide behind the pretense of work. He wasn't exactly certain what to look for with regard to breeches for himself, leaving that task to Nathaniel. He did, however, find a shirt of a material that didn't quite feel like silk but was just as soft. It was a slate grey in color, nearly the same as the other man's eyes.

"Do you think this will fit you?" He walked over and stood behind him. Nathaniel straightened, squaring his shoulders so Anders could size the garment against them. "It does. I mean, I think it does. It seems to fit."

Nathaniel twisted around and gently tugged it from the mage's hold. "I think it'll do just fine." There was a moment's pause. "Thank you."

Anders felt the blush creeping back to his cheeks again and barely stammered out a "You're welcome, Ser," before retreating back to pretend to be looking through the trunk once again.

Once they'd managed to find the rest of what they needed, they left them in the room before heading for the baths in one of the lower levels of the keep. It surprised them both to see Oghren there, meticulously clipping at his beard with a pair of shears.

"Commander's orders," was all he'd say on the matter.

Suitably groomed, the two men headed back to their room to dress. Varel had come by to announce that they'd have time for a meal before the first of the guests arrived, though there'd be light fare at the gathering itself. All through their supper, Anders kept running a hand along his thigh or rubbing it over his knee. So used to robes, he wasn't comfortable with the feeling of the garment around his legs. It wasn't until another hand settled over top of his own that he realized how much he'd been doing it.

"Stop fidgeting, would you, Mage? You're making me nervous."

He huffed out a breath. "Sorry, Ser," he whispered, curling his hand up instead. He felt a squeeze around it before Nathaniel's fingers slipped away.

They passed the meal in relative silence, though as they rose to head into the hall, Nathaniel laid a hand on his shoulder.

"You'll be fine," he whispered, giving him another squeeze. "Just stay with me."

Looking at the gathered nobles, Anders swallowed, having every intention of following that order to the letter.
*
Nathaniel's prediction about the evening had been mostly correct. The banns of the area congregated in the main hall of the Keep, mingling with one another and, for the most part, ignoring Nathaniel and himself. Oghren was, also as predicted, quite a distraction, though it seemed more as a novelty to those gathered than for his behavior. It didn't hurt, either, that he had stories from the Blight, something that held his audience fascinated.

Anders spent his time watching Nathaniel, taking cues from him on how to act, how to stand, and how to blend with the background so they weren't bothered overmuch. He found it amusing that no one spared him a second glance after initial introductions. The noble had been right about that as well. Dressed as he was, no one gathered that he was a mage, and though he was content with being ignored, it was a decidedly different feeling than being looked down upon.

Of course, no one paid attention to them once Zaphyre made her presence known. She swept into the hall as if she had been doing this her entire life, mingling immediately, going through polite introductions, smiling and nodding at all the right moments. And then, of course, there was the actual fealty ceremony itself, where the banns pledged their loyalty to her. During a couple of the speeches, he heard Nathaniel snort but it wasn't the time or place to ask. Perhaps later, when they were alone.

Once the formalities had been completed, the group went back to socializing. Though he was rather used to standing around, he noticed Nathaniel starting to fidget. It was clear he didn't want to be among those gathered but staying out of sight like this was starting to take its toll. Anders brought up a hand, fingers curled for a moment, before he reached out and rubbed small circles on the other man's back. He felt him tense for a moment and then relax, turning to cast a subtle smile over his shoulder before putting his attention back on the room.

It was when he started again and put his attention toward one of the pillars in the room that Anders realized there was a serving girl there, hurriedly gathering up pieces of broken glass onto her tray. Slipping away from the other man, he skirted the hall and knelt down beside her to help her clean up.

"Ser, ya can't do that," she hissed quietly. "Not tonight. Go back ta the gathering."

"No one's paying attention to us. It's all right." He carefully gathered up a piece and dropped it onto the tray.

"As you bid, Ser." She hastily began scooping up the shards and paid the price for her hurry. Letting out a little whimper, she stuck her bleeding hand to her lip, sucking on it.

"Here." Anders reached out and brushed his fingers to hers, letting a small bit of magic spark between them. The servants had grown used to this spell, at the very least, and Zaphyre had no qualms about letting him use it as needed. In fact, it was a standing order, especially after the night of the darkspawn attack.

"Thank ya, Ser." Anything else she might have said was drowned out by a surprised male voice.

"A mage? You've a mage in your keep?"

Anders pinched his eyes shut. Of course the spell wouldn't have gone unnoticed. He passed the tray to the girl who beat a hasty retreat out of the hall as more statements and accusations began sounding around the room.

"There's no templar here, are there? A mage without a templar?"

"I'd heard rumors but I never thought--"

"What if he were to turn? What then?"

"That Orlesian chit is mad if she thinks--"

Anders was about to push himself to his feet at that when he felt a hand rest on his shoulder. Blinking past his anger at the insult, he found Nathaniel standing beside him.

"He's not without supervision," he stated in a level voice. "He's under my charge and he was acting under orders. I'm sorry if the lot of you have issue with that, but it's our choice with regard to the Wardens and the affairs of our Keep." His gaze trailed around the gathered banns, never wavering as it did so.

"That is true." Zaphyre's voice cut across the silence. "Nathaniel has proven very capable in minding our healer." Not 'mage,' not 'Anders,' but 'healer.' She was stressing that he wasn't there as a servant but as someone vital.

Of course, mention of Nathaniel's name caused a stir as well. He felt the resigned slump of the noble's shoulders as he forced a smile and began confirming that yes, he was indeed Nathaniel Howe, son of the former arl and yes, he knew what had happened and yes, he would be very happy to take a moment.

They'd done it before Anders or the nobles had even realized it had happened. By putting Nathaniel forward, they'd diverted attention away from him. Zaphyre was a mistress of directing people's attention where she wanted it to be.

Shaking his head, he caught the Commander's look and she nodded her head toward the door. He needed no second invitation to retreat, hurrying out of the hall and back to the peace and quiet of the bedroom. Given that he didn't think he'd be summoned back out, he stripped out of the fancy clothes and into his sleeping attire. As the hem of the robe dropped down to his ankles, he grinned.

Much better.

Climbing into bed, he couldn't help but let his mind wander. The nobles really hadn't bothered with him until he cast his spell. It was true. So long as he didn't look the part, no one suspected him. Maybe they'd have to keep that in mind for the future.

Stretching out, he propped one arm behind his head, finding his attention drifting to the door and wondering when Nathaniel would be able to escape as well. In fact, he was still wondering it as he nodded off, woken what seemed like hours later to the sound of the door being shut a little harder than it probably should have been. He started for a moment, seeing a figure leaning against it, essentially locking out the rest of the world. Pushing himself up, he almost expected to find someone else hovering over his bed.

"Did I wake you?" Nathaniel's voice, despite being rough from so much talking, still slid through the darkness and into his tightened chest, relaxing him.

"Maybe a little."

"Sorry." He pushed away from the door and began stripping out of his garments. It always amazed Anders how Nate could walk and remove his boots at the same time without stumbling. "I had to listen to detailed and often conflicting accounts of my father's activities during the Blight. Suffice to say, Oghren's was the most interesting of the lot and thankfully shut everyone else up."

"Did it bother you? Hearing all of that?"

The other man shook his head and simply crawled under the covers, not bothering with his bedclothes. "It did, at first. Then, like I said, Oghren started talking and I realized that he had no reason to lie. I originally came here to put an end to the Commander--"

"What?" Anders was wide awake now.

Nathaniel chuckled. "I blamed the Wardens for what happened to my family. I thought if I killed their commander it would be a blow to morale, it would send a message to the others. And then, as I walked the halls, I realized I didn't want revenge. I just wanted what was ours. To take some of my family's belongings and go. Of course, that's when the Orlesians found me and hauled me off to the dungeon. They wanted to hang me but Varel insisted they wait on Zaphyre's decision."

"I'm glad, then, that he wouldn't let them go through with it. I wouldn't have anyone to watch over me, were that the case."

"You don't really need me, Anders. You're perfectly capable of living outside of my line of sight."

The mage closed his eyes, feeling the trail of fingertips through his hair, a gesture that had soothed away his nightmares many times. "I like being with you," he murmured softly. "It makes me feel human."

"Maker's breath, Mage, you are human."

Anders shook his head. "We can't truly be. Not with the constant threat we pose."

"Somehow I think you're less of a danger than you're made to believe. We're not always who people perceive us to be."

"If you say so, Ser," he whispered.

Nathaniel made an affirmative noise. "You'll have time to prove it to us and yourself tomorrow. I think Zaphyre is sending us to investigate a few darkspawn rumors. Then you'll be reminded of the real threat."

They lay in silence for a while, before Anders finally managed to work up the apology that had been sitting on his tongue. "I'm sorry, Nathaniel."

"For what?" He hadn't expected the noble to still be awake as well.

Swallowing, he did his best to continue. "What you had to do. I know you didn't want to be the center of attention. You did it for me."

"One of them would have recognized me eventually. You only helped quicken what would likely have been a painful process."

"Still, there's not many that would defend a mage." A smile quirked at his lips. "Especially at the cost of their own sanity."

The other man let out a soft laugh. "Perhaps I'd already lost that, minding a trouble-maker."

Laughter gave way to a sigh and Anders let his eyes slip closed once more. He wasn't quite willing to believe Nathaniel's words, but he did believe his own. And the way that they were now suited him just fine.

*
Some time later, Zaphyre went with the two of them to Amaranthine to see about supplies for the Vigil and if there was any word circulating that might be important news for the Wardens or anyone else in the Keep for that matter. It had been agreed while they were traveling that they'd split up their duties to get them done quicker and, so he wouldn't be harassed, Anders found himself fidgeting with his breeches again. Thankfully, dealing with the merchants distracted him enough that he barely remembered he was wearing them until it came time to leave the stalls or shop.

For the moment, his current distraction was the apothecary. Though he'd made the purchases Zaphyre had instructed, he was studying the other ingredients on display. If he didn't know any better, he'd swore he'd seen some of them out when Nathaniel was brewing the poisons that he used. So distracted, he hadn't noticed the other customer that approached and was talking to the man behind the counter, not until their conversation lingered.

"And any elfroot you might have."

Anders looked over. That voice. It couldn't be, could it? He was...The templar claimed he'd been killed. Then again, why would they let on that a mage had successfully escaped?

"Jowan?" He breathed out the name, watching the man stiffen.

Waving to the apothecary, he turned from the counter. "Damn it all, I forgot my coin. I'll return later." If he'd left the shop any faster, he'd have been running.

Excusing himself as well, Anders hurried out, catching sight of the dark-haired mage weaving through the crowd on the street. As they both rounded a corner, he heard a curse. The alley he'd chosen was actually a dead end.

"Jowan, I know it's you. Wait. Please."

"Andraste's tits, Anders, are you trying to bring the templar down on my head? Get away from me!" He tried pushing past the blonde and back to the street.

"Jowan, wait." He caught the other mage by the arm. "I don't have any templar with me."

He shrugged free, eyes flicking around. "Somehow I doubt that."

"No, I...I'm a Grey Warden now. The templar don't control me any longer."

Jowan narrowed his eyes, studying his face for the trick he was expecting. "A member of the Grey?"

"Aye. Their commander took me in after I escaped the Tower." He smiled weakly.

"It seems that we both owe something to the Wardens, then." Seeing the other's puzzled look he continued. "I was spared by one during the Blight. Given a chance to redeem myself. Still, that I had your luck, Anders."

An idea came to him. "I could talk to her. Zaphyre might..."

"No." Jowan shook his head. "No. I've got too many that depend on me now. I couldn't abandon them. Besides, I don't fear the templar finding me, unless it's by sight."

"How do you mean?"

"Before I left, I took care to destroy my phylactery.” He grinned. “They've no way to hunt me now."

"And you wished for my luck. That I had your cleverness." The blonde chuckled.

"Seems we've both done what they said was impossible, haven't we?" Jowan looked him over, doing a double-take. "Maker's breath, what are you wearing?"

"That we have," he agreed, then chuckled, a hand brushing down the front of his shirt. "I stand out less this way. Makes things easier on the ones that do mind me if folks aren't treating me like I've become an abomination."

Jowan's face fell a little. "You've...still keepers, then?"

Anders nodded once. "They're nothing like the templar. Nathaniel treats me well. Enough that I can even forget, sometimes. And Zaphyre trusts me and I would never break that trust. Though I should get back before she misses me. I think she worries the templar will scoop me away if I'm out of her sight for too long."

A warm smile touched the face of the other mage as he heard that, reassurance having given him a measure of peace. "It was good to see you well, my friend."

"Likewise." Anders reached out and pulled the other man into an embrace. "Be safe, Jowan."

"Levyn," he corrected with a grin and a wink. "You too, Anders."

"Levyn." He tried the name. "I hope to see you again."

"You just may." He smiled again, waiting on Anders to leave before exiting himself.

As he made his way back to the stalls, Nate arched a brow. "You look happy."

"Found an old friend."

"Oh?"

"Yes." He took a breath, hoping the other man wouldn't press. He wasn't sure how Nathaniel would take his consorting with fugitives.

"Well, you're smiling. Must be a good friend."

"He is."

"Good to hear. Now, come on." He inclined his head. "Commander's expecting us with these supplies."

Still smiling, Anders fell into step behind the rogue, the two finishing up their task and hurrying to meet their commander.

[Copper]

*
Given the distance between the city and the keep, Zaphyre decided that after their shopping excursion, they would stay overnight and set back in the morning. Acquiring rooms at the Crown and Lion, Nathaniel situated himself in the corner of the taproom, mug in hand. Their commander had expressed an interest in visiting the nearby Chantry and, against his better judgment, Anders had offered to escort her.

As they approached the doors, however, his steps slowed. Zaphyre reached over and laid her hand on his arm.

"I can see myself inside, Anders," she said with a gentle smile. "You enjoy the rest of your time."

He swallowed, forcing a smile to his lips. "Thank you, Commander."

Giving him a final smile of her own, she took the short steps leading up to the building all at once and shortly after, disappeared through the doors. Letting out a sigh, Anders turned away from the building and paused a moment, debating on whether or not he wanted to head back to the inn straight away. The thought of Nate sitting there and drinking alone didn't sit well with him. He certainly could use a partner, couldn't he?

Smiling to himself, he turned and made his way back toward the inn, passing a few small shacks that framed some of the alleyways.

"Ser? Can ya help?" The voice hailing him belonged to a younger man who was currently trying to shoulder a wagon out of a rut. There was an older man with him, but he didn't seem in much condition to be able to help.

Glancing around, Anders found he was the only one they could have been speaking to. "I'm not sure how helpful I'll be, but I'll certainly try."

Approaching, he followed the man's suggestion that he take a position near one wheel while the youth took the other. The two hunched forward, pushing as hard as they could. Anders could feel his feet slipping on the cobbles, no purchase for him to hold on to and give him enough leverage to move the blasted thing.

"Once more?" the young man asked. "Felt like we almost got it that time."

"You're obviously more confident than I am, but let's try." Anders leaned into the wagon again, pausing after a moment when he realized he was the only one trying to push. "Now, come on. This was your suggestion."

The young man smiled. "And I thank you for your help, Ser Mage."

Ice. "What?" he managed to breathe out before someone seized his hair from behind and jerked his head back. A cloth clamped over his mouth, muffling the shout that passed his lips. He had a second to register that the fingers gripping him belonged to a woman.

"Well, look at this. You can dress up the trash, but it's still trash." Rylock's voice purred close to his ear. "I knew I'd find you if I waited long enough."

A muffled "Let me go" tried to push its way past the gag but the sound of it only made her chuckle, giving him a little shake. As he tried to reach around to grab at her, the other two advanced, the younger going for his arms while the older crouched down toward his feet.

"Bind him up. We need to get him out of here before that little bitch finishes her business with the priests."

Anders kept struggling, suffering scratches and smacks as he pulled himself loose. The younger man finally had enough and leaned in, hitting him solidly in the stomach. As he sucked in air, trying to catch his breath, he finally noticed the sharp smell on the cloth. He knew it from somewhere...from...Maker, why was he so tired all of a sudden? The smell. It was...Nate used it. Extract of...something. It...no! No, he couldn't fall asleep. He had to fight this...had to...

He started to thrash his head, trying to pull away from the cloth, kicking his feet only to have them nearly swept out from under him. Ropes bit into the skin of his wrists and he was finally brought completely off his feet to have those bound up as well. Rylock stuffed the cloth into his mouth and the two men hauled him up and tossed him into the back of the cart. Before they covered him with canvases, they forced a different bit of cloth between his lips to muffle any noises he might make. It hardly mattered, though, as darkness was beginning to creep around the edges of his vision. He'd inhaled too much and it was making it too hard to keep his eyes open. He could hear the men laughing as they climbed up into the cart and didn't want to know what they'd been discussing. He was so tired, he didn't care. All he wanted to do was just close his eyes, even if everything else inside of him was screaming for him not to.

Unable to fight the drug any longer, his lids slipped closed and everything faded away.
*
He came awake to the feel of something stinging his cheek. There was a muffled crack of a sound and then came the sting again. Forcing open heavy eyelids, he felt his head jerk as he was slapped again.

"About time you came around, you lazy piece of garbage." Fingers seized his hair, pulling his head back again, forcing him to look up into Rylock's face. She shook him once and then let him go.

Anders was only vaguely aware of where he was. Inside. A storage room, perhaps. Rylock's armored boots were in front of his downcast eyes. His shoulders ached and he wasn't sure if he could feel his arms or not. Hazarding a glance from the corner of his eye, he realized they were chained above his head. He was gagged, kneeling on a stone floor, and he was cold from being stripped bare.

Something rough slipped under his chin and forced his gaze up. Leather. His mind realized that it was leather. Rylock was looking at him from the end of the crop that she clutched in her hand, the corner of her mouth pulled up in a satisfied smirk.

"I told you our time together wasn't over, mage." Moving the switch away, she knelt in front of him, taking his chin in her hand, forcing his face to remain level with hers. He still lowered his eyes, fearful of what she'd do if he dared try and look at her. "You owe me four lives. And I'm going to collect."

"I di-rn't," he protested around the gag.

She backhanded his cheek. "Not another word." Her own were hissed through her teeth. "The only thing I want to hear out of you, mage, is your screams."

Anders pinched his eyes shut, refusing to let himself whimper. She'd tried before to break him of his rebellious streak and he'd shown her how well that had taken by running away. She'd failed before and she was going to fail now.

The bite of the crop across his back sung through to his resolve. Clenching his teeth, he bit down on the gag and groaned into it, but nothing further passed his lips. Another strike made him twitch, made the chain holding his arms rattle. And another. And another. He started counting out of morbid fascination. Concentrating on the numbers was better than thinking about the pain.

She stopped at twenty-six. His back stung and he could feel trails of what he hoped was sweat trickling their way down his skin. Muscles ached and he could feel the tremble that was running through them. He heard the swish of the crop and flinched, still tense for a blow that never came.

Rylock laughed. "Looks like you can be conditioned after all." She reached out, cupping his cheek with her hand.

He knew what she wanted: a nod or a nuzzle. It was a sign of accepting, of giving in. When she didn't get it, she growled, sliding her hand up to jerk his head back by the hair.

"Listen to me, mage, and listen to me good. You're mine. You think that Orlesian whore has any true say in what happens to you mages? That little show of hers about conscripting you?" She scoffed. "If the queen hadn't been there, I'd have dragged you back to the Circle with me just like this." She shook him again. "But you had to go hide behind her skirts. And now, there's no Warden to protect you. No queen." She turned his head toward a door he hadn't the chance to glimpse. "My men are out there and do you know what they're doing, hmm? Waiting. Waiting for me to finish playing with you. Because I told them I was going to be generous. Once I'm done with you," she released his hair and let her short nails drag down his chest, "then they get to have their turn."

Anders tried to steady his breathing, hoping that would help control the tremors that she was causing, but it was becoming a lost cause. He ached from the beating and he could feel the muscles in his arms starting to tremble. And though he tried not to show it, her "promise" terrified him. Too many unbidden memories crawled back into his mind and though he tried to tell himself he wasn't young and weak any longer, the pain disrupting his thoughts told him he would still be just as helpless. With the templar around, he wouldn't be able to focus any of his magic. But that didn't mean he was just going to give up.

"Yuh shurr," he mumbled around the gag, careful to keep his 'tone' humble.

"What's that mage?" Rylock arched a brow. He make a bit of a noise and watched her smirk. She knelt in front of him and pulled it loose, away from his mouth.

"You shouldn't," he breathed out as soon as he could speak, "have called Zaphyre...a whore." Lunging forward, he cracked his forehead into her temple, the blow causing her to fall back onto her ass with a surprised grunt.

Massaging her head, she glared at him as she picked herself up. "That," she growled, "was your last mistake."
*
Anders woke to the feeling of being slapped again. Twisted humor had him thinking he much preferred the buckets of cold water. At least then it washed away the blood, among other things. His generous captor had deigned that her men needn't wait until she finished with him. Between the beatings, she let them "have a bit of fun" while she rest her arms. Adding to that was the feeling of having his mana leeched away, an emptiness that wasn't quite the gnaw of hunger, but more like the feel of something missing that gave him a constant light-headed feeling.

"If I'm not sleeping, mage, neither are you."

Anders glared up at her, spitting an insult around the gag. He'd long since given up being cowed by her. No matter what he did, she'd punish him.

"Huh. Perhaps you're not as tired as you look. Another go, perhaps?" She pitched her voice louder, calling in another templar. "Or maybe you'd like more of my attentions?" Her fingers played over the crop.

The door creaked open, but there was no sound from the other room. No laughter, no jeering, no hoots of encouragement like there'd been before. Instead, the voice there was quiet, dangerous, and familiar.

"You have something that belongs to me."

Rylock whirled on the door, her face twisting into a sneer. "All I have is a worthless piece of trash that killed four of my men. He's lucky he hasn't been sent to join them yet."

Oh no. She'd been having too much fun torturing him to let that end any time soon. And with his luck, she probably would have bullied some other mage into bringing him back from the Fade just so she could do it some more.

"Anders is a Grey Warden. You have no authority over him, woman."

"He's a mage who never quite learned his place," she spat back. "That makes him dangerous, Warden or no."

"Then he becomes our problem, not yours. I'll only say this once more: release him. Now."

There was the rattle of her blade leaving the scabbard. "Then take him, if you can, boy. It will be fun watching him weep over your corpse."

Anders watched in horror as she charged across the room at Nathaniel. The rogue threw himself forward, somersaulting away from the door, giving himself more room to maneuver. There was the dual scrape of his daggers sliding free from the sheaths on his back. Rylock changed direction and began stalking across the room.

"You should be thanking me, boy. I’m doing you a favor.”

“How is torturing my friend a favor to me?” The two of them were circling around one another, neither one willing to close the distance between them just yet.

“He’s an undisciplined mage. He needs to learn how to submit so he doesn’t become corrupted and destroy us all.”

Nathaniel snorted. “You’re talking as if he were the monster here.”

“He is! They all are!”

“He’s just as human as you or I! The lot of you seem to have forgotten that!”

“They’ll turn on you just as soon as they’d blink,” she snarled.

“Perhaps if you didn’t treat them like animals, they wouldn’t react like them when they get pushed.” One minute Nate was there and the next, he seemed to have flickered out of sight. Anders knew he had to still be in the room, and yet, it was almost as though he’d become one of the shadows on the wall.

Rylock circled around warily, her blade at the ready, lashing out whenever she heard a scrape or what seemed like a step. “You talk about things you don’t understand. We do. There were some of us that were there for the aftermath.”

“Ah yes, like your precious Cullen. Anders told me all about him. How he was tortured by blood mages. Yes, I can see how he’d be the perfect one to leave in charge. Perhaps you can recommend a reliable fox, next? I have some hens that need watched over.”

“Hold your tongue!” She swung out and her blade was stopped by the cross of Nate’s daggers. He pushed back, the metal scraping together and darted around behind her. The cries that she let out were the only indication that she’d been hit. His movements had been that fast. “You know nothing!”

“I know that I’d trust Anders with my life. In fact, I have. I know he doesn’t deserve to be here.” The words began floating in and out of the shadows once again. Rylock strode around the room, swinging at the darkness, causing the rogue to retreat more than once. “And I know that in spite of what you think, in spite of all you’ve done to him, I know he doesn’t want me to kill you. His heart hasn’t been stilled by your so-called discipline.”

“Hah! He’d set me on fire just as soon as you please if it meant getting out of here with his skin intact. I’m not stupid.”

“No?” There was a touch of laughter in Nathaniel’s voice. “Then why aren’t you wondering why I’ve been stalling instead of coming at you?”

“What? Stalling?” She laughed. “Here I took you for a coward, boy. Stalling.” She scoffed and then the exhale turned into a more violent cough. “What?” she managed to gasp out.

“It's called soldier’s bane. I imagine you’re feeling a bit sickly right now, aren’t you? You’ve fought mages too long, girl. You forgot that some of us can actually fight back without magic.”

“Tricks!” She headed for him again, Anders not missing the stagger that was in her step as she did so and how she wasn’t holding her blade as high. “All of you resort to tricks! Well, I know how to counter them!”

“That’s what you think.” Nathaniel was currently skirting around the room, extinguishing the lanterns as he went, either by dousing the flame or smashing them outright. Rylock may have been a formidable fighter, but in the darkness like this, Nate had the advantage. It was what he’d been trained to do.

“Coward!” Anders could hear the whistle of her blade as she spun it around the room. “Too afraid to fight me with honor?”

“You’re about to know how it feels to fight against your ‘honor.’” He could hear the sneer in Nate’s voice. “Helpless. Never knowing where your punishment is going to come from.” And by the hiss the templar let out, he wasn’t holding back on his lesson, either. “Wearing you down, beating you down, until you finally give up and just submit. Your kind doesn’t train mages, bitch. You break them.”

There was a cry of rage and a fierce sing from her blade as she whipped it through the air, desperately trying to lash out at the rogue. “I. Am going. To kill you. You bastard!”

A chuckle seemed to float around the room. “Too late.”

Anders was grateful for the darkness. He heard a fleshy squelch, followed by Rylock’s shriek, the sound trailing off to an almost whine and then cut suddenly short by more sounds of blades connecting with flesh. When the room grew silent again, he heard the blades returning to their sheaths and footfalls crossing the stone to stop in front of him.

He could make out Nathaniel kneeling there, feeling something warm and wet on his fingers as he reached up and loosened the knot of his gag, pulling the cloth away from his lips. His hands then began working on the chains that kept Anders' arms suspended above his head.

"You...how did you find me?"

A smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. "Contrary to popular belief, I did not spend all my time in the Free Marches getting drunk and chasing skirts. I may have actually learned something."

Anders watched the other man work, hearing the scrape of metal as he picked at the locks on the manacles. As they popped open, his hands seemed to tumble down, landing over the rogue's shoulders. He sagged forward, face buried against the other's neck. Nate's arms settled around him, just holding him as the ache eased from his muscles.

"Time to bring you home, I think," the brunette murmured softly.

The mage could only nod, not trusting his voice. His grip on Nathaniel's shoulder tightened, as did the other's hold around him. Guiding them slowly to their feet, Nate made sure he could walk before leading him out of the room and into the main room of a sizable warehouse. Anders let out a gasp.

Bodies. Templar bodies. His gaze flicked between them, the realization setting in that each one either had their throat cut or an arrow protruding from somewhere vital. Unbidden, a soft, distressed noise escaped his lips.

"I do not think our mage approves, Nathaniel." Zaphyre's lilt drifted from one corner of the room. She was sitting on a crate, leaning casually against the wall.

Anders shook his head. "You...they're all..."

Nathaniel glanced once at the floor and then across the room to Zaphyre. "They were in our way."

"But you--"

"We gave them the chance to surrender." The Commander shrugged. "None of them took it. I do not kill those who do not deserve it."

The mage managed to bring a hand to his mouth, his weight sagging heavily into the body of the other man. "But this...why? I'm not...You killed all these men because of me?"

"You are a Grey Warden, Anders. One of my Wardens. I will not see them so abused. I will not see any so abused. Your templar seem to be the brothers to our chevalier. Those with power take it from those that have none." She crossed the room, laying a hand on his cheek, tipping up to press a kiss to his brow. He felt the weight of a set of robes draping around his shoulders, stepping away long enough to secure them about his body. "Though there are those that are not without power. And not without friends. Nathaniel." She murmured something to him and he nodded, accepting his bow from her as well.

Picking their way carefully through the room, Nathaniel lead him outside, leaving Zaphyre behind. She seemed to be humming something to herself and he swore he heard the sound of liquid splashing and the shattering of glass before they got too far away.

"Much as I'd prefer taking you back to the Vigil, you're in no condition to make that trip right now. The inn's not that far away. We'll head home tomorrow."

Anders brought a hand up, holding it to his temple for a moment, a glimmer of magic coursing through his body to take away the worst of the aches and pains. “You’ll find I can do a lot of things and not complain about them.”

“And I say you need the rest. I know how long they had you, Anders. You need to sleep in a bed tonight, not on the road."

He looked over at the other man, more concern on Nathaniel's face now than there had been during his fight with Rylock. “Rest...would be good. And I should be fine in the morning.”

“All right,” came the quiet reply.

They stopped only long enough to get him a pair of boots to replace the ones that had been taken from him, Nathaniel insisting he not walk barefoot over the cobbles. After that, it was slow going, picking their way through the streets to the Crown and Lion. By the time they reached the front door, though, Anders didn’t need to hang on to Nathaniel any longer. As the rogue guided him through the main room, Anders let out a soft noise as they bypassed the stairs, heading instead for ones that lead downward, utilizing more of the underground caverns that had been fashioned into large baths.

“You’ll thank me for this. Trust me.” Nate marched him into the room and stopped the two of them just on the edge of the pool. “Any chance you can get that fire going for us?”

Anders nodded and found that he had enough mana to ignite the kindling under the pots that boiled the water. As soon as that was done, he let out another noise, feeling his robes being undone. He pulled himself free of Nate’s hands, backing away from him.

“What are you doing?”

“What the commander told me too. Taking care of you.”

Anders shook his head, hugging his arms around his chest. “I’m fine. You don’t have to--”

Nathaniel stepped close again, forcing him to look up at the rogue. Warm hands skimmed from his shoulders down his arms, sliding along them until he held Anders’ hands in his own. “It wasn’t an order, Anders.”

He swallowed. “Oh.”

A squeeze of fingers and then they slid free once again, seeking out the knot at his waist. “Trust me.”

The words came out soft and Anders closed his eyes, feeling them seem to fill not only his ears, but somewhere in his chest as well that made his body seem to flutter. He nodded slowly.

Once the robes hung loose again, Nathaniel reached up to slide them off his shoulders, the fabric scraping lightly along his arms as he eased them off. His eyes pinched even tighter shut, not trusting his emotions enough to open them once more. He couldn't believe how such a tender gesture could make him nearly start to tremble.

"What?" His eyes snapped open and he was looking down at the top of Nate's head, there being the light brush of fingers along the back of his calf.

"No boots in the bath." Nathaniel looked up at him with a grin, doing a rather poor imitation of their commander's accent. "Put your hands on my shoulders if you need to."

He couldn't help but smile at the jest. Laying a hand lightly on the other man, he managed to steady himself as he removed first one boot, then the other.

"All right, Mage, into the bath with you." He stood up, giving Anders a little nudge. "I'll get more water."

At the moment, Anders didn't care about the temperature. He simply waded in and sank down to his knees, welcoming the chill against his aching muscles. There was a sploosh of a sound and the heated water began mingling with the rest. A second and then a third were added before he waved off any more. It felt good to just soak there for a few moments, letting the water begin to ease away both pains and memories.

He hadn't even realized Nathaniel had joined him until he felt the brush of a cloth against his back. Straightening with a gasp, he started to turn around until he felt hands on his shoulders.

"Keep still."

"Nate...Nathaniel, Ser, you don't--"

"Is 'shut up' going to have to be the next order?" He felt a flick of the cloth against the back of his neck. "You're in no condition to be caring for yourself. Let me tend to you for once."

Anders bowed his head and swallowed. "Thank you."

No response, save the gentle brush of the cloth, moving from his back to his arms and then around to his chest. Leaning back, he felt the two of them press together, welcoming the comfort that came from their being this close.

[Copper]

Clearing his throat softly, he turned his head, glimpsing the other man out of the corner of his eye. "Nathaniel? May I...May I ask you something?"

"Hmm?"

"When you confronted Rylock, you said she had something that belonged to you."

"I recall, yes." His arms circled further around him, crossing over his stomach.

"Did...Did you mean that?"

A chuckle tickled across the back of his neck. "I suppose I could ask you what you think that would mean."

"I don't know. That...can mean a lot of things, especially to someone like me."

"Someone like you?" Nate brought his chin to rest on his shoulder.

"You know what I mean."

"Mmm, I can't say that I do."

Anders bowed his head. "Don't, please. Don't jest."

He felt a soft nuzzle as Nathaniel brushed his cheek against his. "No jest, Anders. You answer to no one but yourself. I'd have thought Zaphyre would have made that clear by now."

"But the templars--"

"The templar make the mistake of forgetting that mages are human, same as they. Zaphyre is Orlesian. Does that make her a monster? To some Fereldans, yes. I am the son of Rendon Howe, the man who helped orchestrate a great deal of...misery...during the Blight. I am not my father's son, but others refuse to see past the name. Our queen holds the throne because her father is a king-killer. And you, Anders, happen to be a mage." Nathaniel reached up and stroked his hair. "All of us guilty by something we had no control over: the simple fact that we were born. So you see, someone like you is really no different than someone like us."

Anders freed one of his arms, bringing a hand to him mouth, feeling himself start to tremble. His breathing grew shaky and he groped for Nathaniel's hand with his free one, taking comfort in the grip that he found there. As he started to pull away, he felt Nate hugging him tighter. Shaking his head, he squeezed the rogue's hand and was allowed to slip free, turning to kneel in front of him. Bringing his hands up, he cupped Nathaniel's cheeks, hands sliding down his neck to his shoulders. Leaning in, Anders buried himself against the dark-haired man's chest, wrapping his arms around him as he felt the other's coming around him in return. Gentle fingers combed through his hair as they had on so many other nights, each scratch along his scalp like drawing away another layer of tension from his body. Nathaniel had been trying to tell him all along. It was just that moment that he decided to listen and the realization slammed into him like a wave.

Picking his head up, he found himself nearly level with the rogue's throat. A little smile pulled at his lips and he leaned closer, letting a kiss brush against the skin there.

Nate drew back, his hold making them a little more level. "Anders, what--?"

He bowed his head. "I'm sorry. I just wanted--" The words died before they reached his lips. What did he want? Swallowing he shook his head. "I'm sorry, Nathaniel."

Warmth covered his cheek, followed by the gentle brush of a thumb. "Don't be. It's all right." He felt a sigh. "Just know that hearing your gratitude is enough for me. You know that."

He leaned close again, cheek resting against shoulder, arms around him once more. "I do. But...But sometimes it doesn't feel like enough." Picking himself up again, he raised his eyes to Nathaniel's pale ones. "Will you let me thank you?"

"Anders, you don't--" He cut himself off with a gentle sigh. "You truly want this?"

"I do." He swallowed, nibbling on his lower lip, forcing himself to hold his gaze up. "If...If you do, too."

Nathaniel's fingers brushed his cheek again, curling and trailing along his jaw, his thumb dusting at the corner of his mouth. Very slowly, he leaned closer, Anders finally allowing his eyes to slip closed as he felt their lips meeting in a tentative kiss, one which grew deeper as they both warmed to the feeling.

Drawing back, he reached his hands up to Nathaniel's shoulders, gently urging him backward. The pair crawled over to the side of the bath, the mage urging the rogue to take a seat on the edge, despite the chill from leaving the water. He let out a bit of a chuckle, making a joke about the cold when his laughter suddenly turned into a groan.

A smiling Anders had just let him slide free from his lips. "I trust this will keep you warm enough?"

"The templars were right about one thing. You're a wicked man." Hands propped behind him, Nathaniel let his head sag back as deep breaths heaved his chest.

Anders merely smiled again and leaned in once more, his hands alternating between skimming along Nathaniel's thighs and complimenting his attentions. Hearing his partner's moans echoing in the chamber only encouraged him to make Nathaniel feel better.

He felt fingers sliding into his hair and he suddenly stilled, a little whimper sounding in the back if his throat. The hand immediately pulled back.

"Anders, I'm sorry." Nate's voice was thick and a little groan punctuated the statement. "I didn't mean--"

The mage cut him off by resuming his tending. Drawing back, he let his eyes turn up, watching the rogue's face as his tongue flicked against him. Kissing the tip, he smiled. "Just talk to me if you do that. Remind me it's you." He brought his lips around him once more.

Nate actually kept his hands to himself after that, given that he'd sagged back further, needing the support. There were, however, encouraging words, peppered with breathy curses, and the occasional buck of his hips. Anders found himself thrilled with every moment of it. To be pleasing someone for more than the sake of physical gratification. For the first time, he found himself wishing he didn't need to stop, wanting to prolong this as much as possible for the other man. And when he finally did bring him over, he found himself groaning just as deeply, not drawing back until he was sure his partner was spent.

Pushing himself up again, Nathaniel reached out, brushing his fingers along Anders' temple, letting his fingertips comb through his hair. Anders watched, backing up with a curious sound as the rogue scooted forward, easing himself back into the water. Gentle hands took hold of his arms and drew him close once more, though he found himself turning away as the other man leaned in to kiss him once again.

"What's wrong?"

"You can't want to kiss me after I just--"

He felt his chin turned back and insistent lips pressed against his own. A heartbeat later, he let out a surprised gasp as he felt the pull of a hand around his own tense erection. Palms against Nate's chest, he tried to push the two of them apart, there being a soft growl before the other man relented.

"Nathaniel, please. You don't--"

"Anders, hush." The tone was playful but insistent. The rogue stroked his thumb along the mage's cheek. "I may not be," he paused, swallowing, "bold enough to return your attentions, but I want you to feel just as good as you made me."

He shook his head. "That's not why I--"

"I know why you did it. And that's exactly why I want to return the pleasure." He chuckled. "You're not going to make me make it into an order, are you?" One brow arched, accompanied by a grin.

Smiling, the mage leaned in once again, wrapping his arms around the other man's neck and feeling strong arms embracing him. His lips met Nathaniel's, brushing there as he murmured, "No, Ser," before surrendering to the kiss.

[Copper]

((Of all the fics I've been working on recently, this is one of the ones I'm most happy with, I think. It started as a prompt from a writing site and once I had the nightmare down, the rest of the story just fell into place from there.

This is another DA fic, featuring Nathaniel and my to-be-made male Cousland, Adran. The premise from the prompt was that Nate has his first darkspawn nightmare, the commander confronts him about it, they share a bit of bonding time, and one thing leads to another (because it's that kind of prompt site.) Spoilers for the noble origin and the Denerim quests. Rated M for use of alcohol, mild violence, and homosexual relations. Maybe I should have put chocobos in the nightmare...))

Perchance

The shrieking is what started first. He could hear those in front of him letting out cries of panic, watching the tide of those advancing starting to turn and retreat. The hurlocks tried to keep order, beating on the genlocks they were prodding ahead to get them to turn but nothing would work. The terrified spawn were fighting to go in the opposite direction, their gibbering turning into cries of panic as some were seized, dragged back, lost to the darkness of the caverns ahead. It was worse when the shrieking stopped. Then you could hear the sounds of teeth tearing into flesh, the spurt of blood, and then the popping of bone and the tear of muscle a second before it came lunging out of the darkness, all teeth and claw and hungry for more flesh...

Nathaniel pulled himself awake just before those teeth reached his throat, flailing with the covers that had wrapped around him during the night. Reaching for the dagger he kept nearby, he let his eyes scan about in the darkness of his room, half expecting to see one of the lurching forms coming for him yet again.

Setting the dagger down, he reached next for the candle that he'd left sitting there. If he wanted to light it, though, he'd need to cross to the hearth to light the taper in the coals. As he caught himself scanning the path across the floor, he mentally cursed himself.

Nathaniel Howe, you are not some child to be frightened by stories of darkspawn lurking beneath your bed! Although with what we've discovered about the keep, there very well could be some down below.

He allowed the humor to start to dispel his fear, but it didn't seem enough. There was still that nagging feeling in the back of his mind, that there was something out there waiting for him to step into the darkness. And it didn't matter how ridiculous he told himself it was, he simply could not shake the feeling.

After tossing and turning for a good while, he sat up with an exasperated sigh. He needed something to calm his nerves. Not that he partook often, but sometimes being numb was a blessing. Not to mention he was starting to feel hungry again.

Clad in light breeches, he slipped from his room and down the corridor toward the main hall of the keep. He was going to cross to the kitchens when his gaze fell on the sizeable keg that was situated against the wall. He debated with himself for a moment and then decided that if there was anything that was going to pickle his brain properly, it would be a mug of Oghren's swill. Thankfully, there were mugs aplenty scattered around the thing and at this point, he didn't really want to consider what their former contents had been. He just wanted good and drunk.

A heartbeat away from flicking the tap, he found himself grabbing for the mug as it bobbled out of his hand.

"Stealing ale from a dwarf is a more colorful method of suicide."

He managed to catch hold of it before it hit the floor, turning to glare at the speaker, who himself was peeling out of the shadows made by the room's columns.

Adran Cousland. What in Andraste's name was the Warden-Commander doing up at this ungodly hour?

"I doubt he'll miss a swig of it." Nathaniel crossed his arms, leaning against the wooden barrel.

"You'd be surprised. Oghren's rather protective of his spirits." A smile quirked the corner of the young man's mouth. "Which brings back the original question of why you're stealing some." A dark brow arched upward, the smile turning into more of a smirk.

"I needed a drink." Nathaniel replaced the mug. It was clear he wasn't going to get anything from the keg, not with the commander looming there and not leaving.

"A person needs a drink after training all afternoon. A person needs dwarven ale when they want to forget the world exists." A sigh. "What's wrong, Nathaniel?"

Oh, yes. This was going to go over well. Tell the Warden-Commander that he was having nightmares and they scared him out of his bed. And not just the commander, but Adran. Why did it have to be Adran? He might have even been able to handle the mage confronting him. Hells, even Oghren would have been better than this.

"It's nothing. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm also starving in addition to being parched." He started off again, now intending to go hide in the kitchens and perhaps drown his memories in food instead.

As he passed, a hand reached out and seized hold of his arm, forcing him to a stop. Jerking himself free, he caught the movement of the man's other hand. He was holding a small basket with apples, a wheel of cheese, and at least a serving of rolls sticking out of it.

"Come talk with me."

The way he said it, it wasn't a request. Heaving a sigh, Nathaniel fell into step behind his commander and followed him to his quarters. It had initially surprised him that Adran hadn't taken up residence in his father's rooms. They were the largest in the keep and specifically designed with an arl's duties in mind. Instead, he'd chosen Delilah's quarters, of all things.

Perhaps it didn't seem so very strange. His sister's room had a more welcoming feel to it. Though the bed and the sitting area had no division, there was clearly a line between where Adran slept and where he worked.Hearing the pad of feet across the floor, he glanced over, watching Adran's back as he headed for a small table set near the window. For some reason, the fact that he was barefoot amused him. In fact, he looked as though he'd just come from bed himself: a shirt that was a size too big for him, breeches that only came to his knees, and hair loose from the braids he usually kept it in. The tangled state of the linens only added to the picture.

Joining him at the table, he found a spread fit for a midday meal. In addition to what he'd seen already, there were bits of smoked meat, dried fruit, jellied fruit, honey, and at least two bags of sweets. Tucking the basket under the table, Adran gestured to one of the chairs. "Help yourself." And with that, he was over to the trunk at the foot of his bed, rummaging around in that for something.


The now gnawing in his belly was telling Nathaniel "propriety be damned" but he refused to give in to it. He started with an apple, though before he knew it, he'd already bitten around the thing once, bringing up his hand and brushing at his lips with the back of his wrist while he chewed. Having swallowed that, he seized up a roll and broke it in half, undoing the lid of the honey to drizzle some of it over the bread.

There was a soft clink and two glasses were set on the table, followed by a bottle of a rich, amber-colored liquid. Adran undid the stopper and a heady smell filled the air. He left it to breathe for a few moments while he helped himself to a handful of dried dates.

"What is that?" Nathaniel eyed the bottle like he would a vial of one of his poisons.

"Antivan brandy. A gift from a friend, to let me know he made it home safely. He said he'd be bringing another bottle when he came to visit again, so I don't mind opening this one."

"Your friends have expensive tastes." Nathaniel pressed the last of the roll into his mouth.

Adran ducked under the table again and produced a small blade retrieved from the basket. He began slicing into the wheel, passing the first wedge over to Nate and keeping the second for himself. "He prefers the term 'refined,' but yes, he does. But when you're the best assassin the Antivan Crows have to offer," a grin played at his lips, "you learn to expect it."

Nate choked. "A...Crow? You...an Antivan Crow?"

"Are there any others?"

"Andraste's knickers, no wonder you weren't afraid of me trying to kill you."

"And as I said, I have a habit of recruiting people that have tried to murder me. It seems to work out very well in the end." He reached over and poured the brandy, offering a glass to Nathaniel.

He accepted it and took a drink, nearly spitting it back out as he began coughing. "Maker's breath, that burns!"

Adran simply smirked over the lip of his own glass, at least having the decency to wait until he could breathe again before asking "So, why were you after Oghren's brew?"

Nathaniel pinched his eyes shut. Opening them again, he turned his gaze to the window, looking out at the lands that stretched beyond the walls of the keep. "It's...It was nothing. I...I thought I'd get something to go with my food."

"Lies really don't become you, you know that? You were honest with me before. Why change that now?"

Because I'm not going to admit I had a sodding bad dream to you, all right? "Maybe it's something I'd rather not speak of." He tore into another of the rolls, venting a bit of his anger on the bread and slapping some of the preserves onto it to give his mind something else to focus on.

Adran was quiet for a time, long enough for him to make half of the roll disappear and move on to some of the meats as well. Before he could take another bite, though, the other noble's voice lilted soft across the table.

"Nightmares?"

Nathaniel froze and in that action, knew he'd given himself away. Letting out a sigh, his shoulders slumped and he gathered up his glass, nursing a sip from it. Setting it back down, he brought his hand up, rubbing at his eyes. "It seemed so real. Like I was...right in the middle of the horde when those things attacked."

Propping his elbows on the table, Adran laced his hands together, pressing them to his lips before he began speaking. "The dreams are part of our connection to the darkspawn. It's the taint. We...sense them, are one with them. It's not uncommon to have the dreams until you can learn to sort of...drown them out. You've no archdemon to worry about, not like I did." He chuckled softly. "Since he was defeated, mine have been fairly quiet, though they're starting to get intense again. Seems you lot are going through the same thing."

"So, you saw it, too? The...creature that was attacking the darkspawn?"

Adran shook his head. "No. I saw something else entirely. Something all too familiar." He scratched a hand through his hair. "Something I know we're going to have to kill. It's just a matter of finding her."

"Her?"

"A broodmother. I won't go into the details, not right now, but suffice to say, they're the reason there can be so many darkspawn. Kill the mothers and you put a serious damper on their numbers."

"Are the dreams prophetic?"

"Not so much. They merely show us what's happening amid the darkspawn ranks. It's less prophecy and more a glimpse into what they're doing."

Nathaniel chuckled. "In my dream, they were dying."

That made the other man laugh. "Maybe I'll hope for prophecy from them yet, then." He grew quiet after that, slicing off another portion of cheese, holding it in his hand and staring at it without making an attempt to eat it. His eyes were, instead, looking at something far away. A heartbeat later, he blinked and he was back, staring at Nate from across the table.

"I want you to know that if you need anything or if you need to talk about the dreams, you can come to me. I still remember what it was like to be newly Joined and having all these questions and not understanding anything about what was happening. I'm just glad I could prepare all of you for the fact that your appetite was going to be worse. I found that out while we were still miles from the nearest town." He chuckled.

Nathaniel let out a small chuckle at that, mulling over the commander's...no. Adran's offer. True, he was sharing Warden business with him, but it was still casual conversation. No lecture, no making him seem the fool for bringing it up. Once again he'd proven himself the better and he hadn't even been trying.

"What's the laugh for?" Adran arched a brow.

"My father," there was no missing the flinch as he said those words, "always coveted what yours had. A wife that loved him. Children he could be proud of. The support of those under his charge. And, perhaps most important to him, power. I was too young to realize it and by the time I came of age where I might, he shipped me off to serve in the Free Marches. Part of me is glad that I wasn't around to see his decline, that he can, at least in some small way, remain the man I was so proud to call my father. But talking with Delilah, seeing what became of the keep, our home, I can't help but wish that I'd been allowed to stay. That somehow I might have kept him from the path he chose. Instead, I return home to find my family outcast, my father's name a curse on the lips of the people, my home filled with strangers, and myself sharing a fine drink with the one who put the sword through his belly." He raised his glass in a toast but didn't drink.

"Nathaniel, I--"

"You're going to apologize. You don't have to, you know. I understand. My father did terrible things and the country was being torn apart. You did what you had to do. Any soldier would tell you the same."

"I didn't have to." If the words had come out any softer, they would have been form with no sound.

Nate cocked his head to the side. "What do you mean?"

"I was...young. I was angry. And I was full of a battle rush." He chuckled, but there was no mirth in it. "Should your father have stood trial for his crimes? Yes. But, I saw him again and I saw him smiling at my father, begging pardon for his delayed troops. I saw the door to my room opening up and an arrow slamming into my lover's chest. I saw the body of my nephew, curled in his mother's arms from her trying to protect him." His eyes slid closed and he swallowed. "I heard the voice of my best friend telling me to leave him at the barricade the guards had put up. And I was pulled away from my parents, my dying father and my mother, who stood as the last defense between us and his men."

Adran bowed his head, pressing his brow to his clasped hands. "My father raised me to be just, but I couldn't do it." His eyes opened and Nathaniel saw the tears that gave them a bright shine when he raised his gaze again. "I'm sorry, Nathaniel. I'm sorry that your family had to suffer because of your father. It's why I let you go, actually. I wasn't about to see you hanged and I had no right to push you into conscription."

"But I still came back anyway." He chuckled. "You gave me too much time to think. And now you're stuck with me."

A weak smile pulled at Adran's lips and he reached up, brushing at his eyes. "I think that's a mutual arrangement. I'm the one giving the orders, after all."

Nathaniel shook his head. "My father is turning in his grave. Me, being ordered around by Bryce's whelp." Still, a smile pulled at his lips. "There's times I find it so hard to remember that you're younger than I am. After listening to all the stories of what you've gone through." He shook his head. "You're what? Eighteen summers?"

"Twenty-one. Give or take a few months."

Nate studied the brandy he'd been neglecting. "About Thomas' age." He let his finger trail around the lip of the glass. "Funny how things turn out, isn't it? You were fighting darkspawn and raising an army. He was fighting bottles and raising skirts." Raising the glass, he took a long pull before setting it down again. "Maker, that still burns."

Adran filled the glass again and added more to his own. "Fate sometimes has a funny way of putting us on our path. I wonder, sometimes, if things would have been different. If Duncan hadn't recruited me. If the attack had never happened. I wonder what would have happened if I'd stayed. I wonder how things would have turned out if I hadn't become a Warden at all. Would we have this luxury?" He held up his glass, tilting the liquid within. "Or would the archdemon have won?" Three gulps and the empty glass was set aside.

Nathaniel pushed himself up, taking the steps needed to put him in front of the other man. "You think too much. Let the brandy do it's job, hmm?" He chuckled, reaching out and ruffling Adran's hair, letting his hand trail down and brush at the younger man's cheek, intending on patting him there. When he felt a nuzzle instead, it made him pause. "Adran?"

Slim fingers trailed up the back of his hand, twining with his own. Lips brushed against his palm and he felt the press of a kiss there as well. "I brought you here to get you to talk and here I did most of it. That doesn't seem very fair."

Bringing his other hand up, he trailed a finger along Adran's other cheek. "Seems we both had a lot to get off of our chests. It's all right."

His eyes were almost the same color as the brandy and shined just like it in the glow of the candle. There was so much that they'd seen but he could still look on with hope. And trust. "Will you stay?"

"Pardon?" It seemed an odd question. He'd already come back once.

Adran inclined his head in the direction of the bed. "With me?"

Drawing his hand away from the other's cheek, he squeezed at the fingers already in his hold. Tugging gently, he urged Adran to his feet, guiding them slowly across the room until the backs of his legs bumped into the mattress and he sagged down, letting Adran step up between them. Releasing his hold, he brought both hands up, resting them at the younger man's hips.

"What are you looking for, Adran?" His head was tipped back, looking up into those shining eyes again.

Fingers came up, sliding short nails along his scalp. They reached the back of his neck and he could feel them combing through the short hairs there, teasing gooseflesh along his skin at the sensation. As he leaned closer, the fingers cupped the back of Nate's head, holding him as lips pressed hard against his own. There was more desperation in the kiss than demand. Before he could bring a hand up and hold him to his lips, Adran pulled away, pressing their foreheads together.

"Peace," came out in a whisper.

Using his hold on him, he urged Adran to straddle his lap, slipping his arms around him once he'd done so. He could feel the softness of a cheek pressed to his shoulder as Adran tucked himself into Nate's hold, nuzzling at the spot where his neck and shoulders met. Arms twined with his own but there was no possessiveness to the embrace, just a want to be closer still.

Little nibbles began distracting him, working their way from his throat and along his jaw to the shell of his ear. He responded by slowly starting to rock his hips upward, his hand slipping underneath the hem of that too-large shirt to let his nails scratch lightly up and down his back. The nibbles began to move to his jaw again and soon, he felt a soft nip on his lower lip. Opening his eyes a fraction, he found Adran gazing at him, his own lip caught beneath his teeth. A smile welcomed him closer and they were soon dueling tongues and stealing breath when they could.

He could feel himself being urged further back onto the bed, thought it was slow going, since neither wanted to break the contact of their bodies. Finally, he settled on a solution, wrapping his arms low around the youth in his lap, he rocked forward, pushing himself to his feet. Adran responded by wrapping his legs around him, his hug growing tighter. Carefully climbing onto the bed, he settled them in the middle of it, laying his partner on his back and stretching out above him. Hardly once did they break from their kiss.

Adran, though, had other plans regarding their position. He felt one leg slide down to the bed, the other still hooked around him. Hands slid to his shoulders and with the grace and force he'd seen the commander only employ against their enemies, he found himself rolled onto his back, hips straddled and a pair of hands pressed into the pillow where his head now lay against.

Breaking their kiss, Adran began to creep backward, dragging his lips against Nate's chest, working over to let teeth and tongue worry the bud that had perked up there. So distracted, he had no issue with feeling his hips urged off the bed, barely registering that the cloth was dragging down his legs to his knees. The kisses peppered further, hard enough against his stomach to keep from tickling but light enough to still make him quiver. He finally opened his eyes again as he felt the slide of a tongue following the line of his hip. He reached a hand out, not to still, but for contact, for acceptance.

He grew lost to the heat around him. Heavy breaths shook his body and there were no protests as he let impassioned groans slide readily past his lips. A slow pace that would have been torture any other time had him rocking his hips in time with the bobbing that he watched through lidded eyes. Feeling the tension growing, he was beginning to approach the moment when he knew he was going to lose control. Adran felt it too and eased his lips away from him. To his credit, he only whimpered a little, something that made his partner smile.

"Just wait a moment." Warm hands rubbed at his thighs and he watched as Adran scooted to the end of the bed, leaning over to dig into the trunk again. He paused a moment to shed his breeches and Nate found himself kicking his own the rest of the way off. When the other noble climbed back up the bed, he held a small bottle of oil in his hands.

Nate almost laughed, hearing him humming as he poured some of the contents into his palm, giving him the bottle to stopper again. His hips bucked as he felt the pull of that slick hand around him, stroking and coating him with the warm liquid. The excess was brushed off on the covers and he was looking up at Adran again. He felt a hand take his own, bringing it down to help guide him, help keep himself steady. His other hand came up to wrap around the palm that was pressed to his chest. A squeeze for acceptance and then the grip around his fingers tightened, a high whine keening from the back of his partner's throat. He kept his hips still, even if his every instinct was telling him thrust, he held back, letting Adran ease himself down until he was sheathed fully inside of him.

He waited for the nod that accompanied the smile. Adran eased himself up and then back down, meeting the thrust of his hips as they started a slow rhythm. He pulled on the hand in his hold, leaning him forward once again, bringing their lips together in kisses that were just as lazy as the motions of their bodies.

The pace was just so easy to grow used to. What should have felt foreign to him and, some might say, wrong, he found as comfortable as any other partner he'd been with. In fact, he was the one that picked things up, hands shifting to steady the body over top of his.

"You want more, don't you?" he hissed into the ear so close to his lips.

Words failed. All he felt was a nod before another moan barked softly in his ear.

Supporting Adran as he reluctantly sat up once again, Nate kept both hands at his hips until he seemed used to the faster pace, the firmer thrusts. In fact, he felt hands braced on his legs as Adran leaned back further. That suited him fine, since it allowed him to reach the firmness that he sought, wrapping a hand around it and starting a stroke that moved in concert with the movement of their bodies.

[Copper]

The breathlessness of his groans coincided with the tension that Nathaniel could feel growing in their bodies. Adran's hips had started bucking and he'd obliged by quickening not just his hand but his hips as well. Nothing passed his lips as he reached that moment that held him right on the very edge of release and when the pleasure finally did wrack through his body, it was Nate's name that he screamed before blessing and cursing the Maker, the completely primal feel of it being what undid Nathaniel as well.

Adran collapsed against his chest, panting breaths hot against his neck until they began to slow, more and more tension leaving him as they did so. One arm came up and settled against his back, the other found itself combing through his hair again. Content purrs began to replace breathless groans, though there was one final gritting of his teeth as Adran eased the two of them apart. Eyes closed, he felt the soft scratch of cloth against his chest, brushing down toward his stomach. Blindly reaching up a hand, he wrapped his fingers around the other man's and squeezed gently.

Stretching out his arm, he felt his shoulder being used as a pillow and smiled, feeling the warmth of the body pressed against his. His fingers found their way into those brown locks again and, as if in answer, lazy kisses dusted over his skin followed by a gentle squeeze around his waist.

Satisfaction mingled with contentment, not just because of physical needs being sated, but because of the utter lack of tension he felt in his partner. He'd come here seeking solace he wasn't sure he wanted and helped another find what that he craved. They'd both earned this rest.

Breathing slowed.

Comfort lingered.

And their sleep, dreamless.

[Copper]

Thought about doing this in the Lyrics and Videos thread, but then I realized, that's a lot of lyrics. And it doesn't quite fit with Funny/Awesome Video Tiem, so I figured I'd put this here. What I've got is a "soundtrack" to the game that I'm playing in currently, Geist - The Sin-Eaters. It's a White Wolf TTRPG and the first thing that happens to your character is you die. And at the moment of death, you make a pact with a Geist to basically bring them back from the 'other side' in exchange for them helping you fight off the reaper and granting you niftly little plasm-based tricks. Throughout playing the game, I've found that certain songs have just lent themselves very well to the characters and situations in the game, and thus, I composed a soundtrack for it. What follows are said songs, what they represent, and links to videos so you can hear them. Just a little fun thing I thought I'd do. Enjoy if ye wish!

Skillet - Monster (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1mjlM_RnsVE&feature=PlayList&p=A01D6B0917DEFB4A&playnext_from=PL&index=0&playnext=1) - This is Becca's song. Becca is my character. Becca had her throat ripped out by a vampire who was chased away by one of the other characters. She's new to this whole sin-eater thing but she's kind of getting a crash course in what she can do and learning that the world out there is a lot bigger than she thought it was. It's fun. Granted, her geist isn't exactly a monster, but still...

Skillet - Hero (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=avUTaohfc3U&feature=PlayList&p=A01D6B0917DEFB4A&index=1&playnext=2) - This is Jace's song. Jace is Becca's boyfriend. Jace is an Italian monk who happens to be a Hunter. He was chasing the vampire that attacked Becca and made a choice to stay with her and call an ambulance, not to mention stay in her hospital room for the three days she was unconscious. For all the crazy shit he deals with and "brings home," so to speak, he is pretty much one of the few stable things in Becca's life at the moment. She just recently found out that Jace is half-fae thanks to a deal his mother made with a Fae Lord and that's part of the reason why the man he thinks is his father is trying to kill him. Jace is currently in a holding cell in a fae realm, waiting to be sacrificed so a megalomaniac with dreams of granduer can try and become a fae lord himself. Think Jafar from Aladdin. If he survives that and Becca manages to rescue him, then they have to deal with his family reunion/retirement from active duty ceremony. In Italy. That his mother thinks is also going to be his and Becca's wedding.

Confused yet? Good.

Skillet - Falling into Black (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pnHpeF1RPgI&feature=PlayList&p=A01D6B0917DEFB4A&index=2&playnext=3) - This is Xander's song. Xander is Jace's cousin who is also a sin-eater. Xander was sacrificed by her grandmother, the high priestess of a death cult, to help revive their goddess. Didn't take. Xander was also being groomed to be not only Jace's archivist (Think Watchers from either Highlander or Buffy) but there was talk in the family of those two getting hitched. (Something that seriously squiggs Becca out, and Jace, too, since he sees Xander as more of a sister than anything else. That, and she's too freaking willful to get married and be forced to settle down and make little Hunter babies.) Xander's also a very powerful sin-eater and sort of the unofficial leader of the krewe that's in town.

I also think it's funny that the three main characters are all inspired by/soundtracked by songs by the same band.

Three days grace - The good life (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tzRk5EIHAoI&feature=PlayList&p=A01D6B0917DEFB4A&index=3&playnext=4) - This is Matt's song. Matt is an Australian photographer for National Geographic who won a Pulitzer for his photos of a sunset taken during a brush fire in the Outback. The reason Matt was there to take the pictures? The fire trapped him and his hiking companion and it was the last thing that he did before he died. And then he came back. Yup, another sin-eater. Matt's what's referred to as a "bone-picker." They're the ones that, after they come back, tend to live life to the fullest it has to offer. He was the first sin-eater that Becca met and kind of let her know that she wasn't alone out there. He, along with Jace, are Becca's "rocks" in her life. Things get to be too much for her and she can, luckily, count on him to at least be there for a hug and a pat on the head. Becca also takes great delight in stealing the black cowboy hat that he's always wearing.

Adam Lambert - For your entertainment (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nf0oXY4nDxE&feature=PlayList&p=A01D6B0917DEFB4A&index=5&playnext=6) - This is Julian's song. Adam is also pretty much what Julian looks like (Thanks to me. The GM had a different guy in mind but the response was "holy crap, you're right!") The song pretty much sums up Julian's early life which was, in a nutshell, a train wreck. He was an Olympic class gymnast that had his leg wrecked in a car crash and pretty much turned his life into a huge mess. He finally got himself turned around, starting his own clothing line, boutiques, the works when he found out he was dying of AIDS. A few days after Matt came to see him (heh, surprise! They're a couple.), he had his chance to make his Deal. He's still a bit of a party-boy at heart, but he's got a sensible side to him as well. Becca's "Auntie" Julian that, despite his hedonistic demeanor, she can count on as much as she does Matt (since where you usually find one, you find the other.) Jules is currently in the *same* holding cell as Jace, waiting to be part of the aforementioned sacrifice. This doesn't really surprise the rest of the group, since Jules is the Daphne in the Scooby gang that is their krewe.

Adam Lambert - What do you want from me (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X1Fqn9du7xo) - The GM's suggestion for Matt and Julian's song after I introduced her to Adam Lambert. Given that Julian was a "wolf in sheeps clothing" when he first met Matt, the mess that his life turned into after his accident, and the fact that Matt could still come back to him, not to mention stay with him, lends itself very well this song.

Three Days Grace - Time of Dying (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A0fHWOA7bq8&feature=youtu.be) - Recently found this one, thanks to a friend, and I find that it fits Matt and Julian very well, though not so much as a relationship song but as a narrative to their respective Deals. Matt died in a brush fire in the Australian Outback and Julian died in a hospital bed. And both of them came back because of the other. Again, slightly amused because their songs are coming from the same artists.

Aerosmith - Dude Looks like a lady (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nf0oXY4nDxE&feature=PlayList&p=A01D6B0917DEFB4A&playnext=1) - This is Onnagata's song. Onnagata is Becca's geist. For those of you that don't know and to save you looking it up, an Onnagata is a male kabuki performer who traditionally plays the parts of women. So Becca's sharing her soul with a Japanese cross-dresser. Who's gay. Her only saving grace in this is that they at least have the same taste in men (("What of your Jace? He's *very* pretty." "Yes, he is, but please, I don't want to scare the boy off." "At the rate you're going, nothings going to happen." "I'm not trying to get him into bed!" "You're lying." "No, I'm--" "You're lying." "Okay, I'm lying, but I actually *like* him. So, please, can we try this my way?" "*pout* Fine.")) Onnagata's somewhat benign as geists go. Once you get past the eyeless mask she wears and the fact that there's blood seeping out from under it onto her kimono from her slit throat, she's been relatively easy for Becca to get along with. She's only possessed her once without permission and has been a big help to her, especially when said megalomaniac was trying to get into Becca's dreams.

Blue Oyster Cult - Don't Fear the reaper (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=shEbyzbSyXg&feature=PlayList&p=A01D6B0917DEFB4A&playnext=1) - Pretty much the theme song for Geist.

O Death - Jen Titus (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SXpnI52cLEc&feature=PlayList&p=A01D6B0917DEFB4A&playnext=1) - Another sort of Geist theme song.

FFX - Otherworld (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OONqel6f_8M) - We're likely going into a hostile fae realm that also, effectively, exists in Purgatory/The Underworld to battle someone with a god complex that has a great deal of magic and nasty creatures at his disposal to rescue a pair of princes that are currently being held prisoner. I think it fits. Not to mention the Underworld itself can be somewhat hostile in general.

Tom Petty - Won't back down (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nvlTJrNJ5lA&feature=PlayList&p=A01D6B0917DEFB4A&playnext=1) - It's mostly the line about standing up at the gates of hell, but Jace has remarked that Becca's soul has more life than sense and she has a tendency to have more brass than is probably good for her but she's definitely not one to back down, especially not when she or her friends are threatened.

- A song about life and taking chances in it, which is what Becca's doing. There's also a line about looking fear in the face, which is another thing she's probably going to have to do, very very soon.

[url=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qolUC13bwMc&feature=PlayList&p=A01D6B0917DEFB4A&index=9&playnext=2]Miley Cyrus - The climb (]Pink - Glitter in the air[/url) - So I didn't know it was her when I first heard this but the song seems to fit Becca well. Again, she's not one to back down from a challenge and even if she doesn't succeed the first time, that doesn't stop her from trying again.

Foo Fighters - Times like these (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M2czFGyMipY&feature=PlayList&p=A01D6B0917DEFB4A&playnext=1) - So, in the course of the game, the bad guy forced a mage in his employ to ressurect Jace's mentor and put him in a situation where he could stay alive, but only at the cost of other souls. And then pretty much presented him to Jace and Becca. So Jace had to go through losing the man that was effectively his father figure *again*. And so, after that in the game, where Becca's pretty much got an emotionally distraught Jace curled up against her, this comes on. I swear my radio knows.

- A song for Becca and Jace. Jace is a monk. Jace is under a vow of chastity that protects him from certain mind affecting abilities that vampires, mages, etc. have. So while they're a couple, there's no hanky-panky. Doesn't stop the want from being there, though.

[url=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zuzF7ze9AMY&feature=PlayList&p=A01D6B0917DEFB4A&index=11&playnext=2]Aerosmith - Don't want to miss a thing (]Sophie Hawkins - Damn, I wish I was your lover[/url) - A more apt song for Becca and Jace, particularly when she realized she really could be falling in love with him. Jace's family is loaded. He's hot. He's got the aura of mystery and danger. He spoils her rotten with gifts, like a full dress kimono or a custom made cosplay gown or having VIP access to one of the hottest clubs in town. And all she cares about is having him come home safe so she can curl up in his arms. It's not about the money or about sex or any of that. It's closeness and companionship that she craves more than that.

George Michael - One more try (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bG5N3GC-m20&feature=avmsc2) - It was pretty much the first and third stanzas of the song that got me, not to mention the religious setting. Jace does patrol the streets, protecting the innocent, and he *did* spend three days at Becca's feet, even if she was unconscious at the time. It's not a perfect fit for the two of them, but it's close.

Nelson - Can't live without your love and affection (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x1W6-ErrHls&p=A01D6B0917DEFB4A) - Okay, so technically, it's about a woman, but the majority of the song fits Cassian and Raphael, who are Julian and Jace's fetches, respectively. A fetch is a fae construct, identical to their replacement, who takes their place in the real world after the original has been abducted by the fae. The krewe came to find out that M'brook had done so with these two and, traditionally, when the original gets loose, they usually kill their fetch. They couldn't exactly do that, since Raphael was supposed to be taking his place as heir to Jace's dad's Hunter clan (because he paid M'brook to a. provide him with a worthy heir and b. get Jace out of the picture. Nice guy, huh? Ohyeah, and he tried to choke Becca to death.) Cass and Rafe are *literally* made for one another (a little jab by M'brook). Their hearts are each a half of this huge diamond and they can't help but be together. It's cause a bit of emotional distress in the past, but they're working around it. Still, the song seems to fit.

Kool and the Gang - Celebration (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rw1P7gdtAeY) - Hey, we stopped the ritual, killed the bad guy, and made it out all in once piece, with the Queen of the Summer Court in tow. The krewe definitely earned this. Along with all the booze they consumed.

Vertical Horizon - Miracle (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Kckvrn3U7g) - So, even though we're currently in the third campaign of our Geist game, the Boston krewe just doesn't want to rest. In between dealing with megalomaniacs, Becca and Jace have been planning their wedding. Was sitting with the GM one night and I posed the question as to what would be Becca and Jace's "first dance" song and the GM handed me this on her iPod. Because it fits. Perfectly.

[Copper]

So, over the course of my Geist game, since Becca is a writer like me, I thought about putting her story down, from her perspective. Instead of coming out in prose, it turned into a poem instead. And usually when I start with poetry, more usually comes out. The first is Becca's take on her Deal. The second is about her "angels" and the third is open for interpretation *chuckles* They don't exactly require to you to be familiar with the backstory of the game (and if you want some, skim through the Soundtrack above. It'll help.) so hopefully they can be enjoyed as stand-alone pieces. We'll see.

*

My life began on the night that I died.

A chance encounter and then finding myself alone.

But I wasn't.

Fingers pulling through my hair, making shivers I've always hated.

Despite the closeness, there's no warmth to his skin.

The purr of his voice turns into a snarl.

Savage.

I should be torn and broken,

but when I open my eyes, something is there to greet me.

"Do you want to live?" the voice asks.

I'm angry at him.

I won't let him have his victory.

I'm afraid.

I don't want to go.

I'm at peace.

The voice will guide me.

"Yes."

I hold out my hand.

A deal struck.

A soul strengthened.

The Reaper kept at bay for one more night.

Breath dragged past bloody lips,

my life began on the night I died.

*
Without Wings

Angels come in many forms.

Cherubs.

Forever children.

Innocent. Sweet.

But you're not any of those, are you?

Not anymore.

Wanton. Seductive.

It's difficult to resist your call.

But there's a side of you tucked away,

behind the smiles and bedroom eyes.

I only see glimpses of it,

but what you have shown me

tells me I can trust.

Messengers.

Those who share the word.

Wise. Mercurial.

You were the first to find me,

the first I recognized as brother.

It's you that I turn to

so I can have the direction I need.

An easy smile and easier welcome,

yet around you, I fear the most.

I wonder often if patience is one of your virtues.

In seeking your history,

I know I can hope.

Guardians.

The divine swords.

Protector. Warrior.

Angel wings should lift one up,

but it's you that keeps me grounded.

Although you're the warrior,

I wish the most to protect you.

You teach me strength,

but you're my weakness.

I wonder what perfect you

sees in my imperfection

and I feel blessed.


*
A lifetime ago, we were strangers.

A moment ago, we were friends.

A heartbeat ago, we were apart.

A breath ago, we were one.

Will this be our story

or my imaginings still?

[dmronny]

I always seem to get a soundtrack stuck in my head for my characters or events in my games too. The songs do seem to fit quite well, even if the story is confusing, still sounds enjoyable though. I really like the song "Oh Death" though I had never heard this version before. Geist isn't quite what I thought it was, though I was pretty close. I knew being raised catholic would help out some day.

The poetry was good too, even though I don't usually like it. It made a lot more sense knowing what was going on after reading the soundtracks though.

[Copper]

Yeah, for me to actually sit down and type out the actual story that goes along with our Geist game would take a great deal more time and patience than I actually have right now. I wanted to give little snips but explain enough that they hopefully made sense. Looks like I partially succeeded.

[dmronny]

Oh they made sense, just confusing in a soap opera sort of way.

[Copper]

So, I was debating puting up the sequel to Price of Another's Sin or the idea I was considering originally, which was to jump to my *third* Geist game, Rin's story. I'll probably get the sequel up after I put it up on some of the other sites, but for now, I'm going with a little bit of Rin's back-story and her game soundtrack. I'm hoping, too, to make it a nice one, like Becca's, especially since Rin's game focuses on music, a lot. Anyway, here's a glimpse into Rin's head that will hopefully help set up the soundtrack as well. A little, too, to explain some of Rin's thoughts: She's a Stricken sin-eater, meaning she died from an illness of some sort. In her case, it was something in her brain she let go for too long and it became inoperable, though it wasn't anything she ever let on was wrong, nor anything she played up. And since this is our alternate-reality reality, the "show" she's talking about is a season of "American Idol" several back, when Rin was 17. She's now 22.

***
Another night, another bar.

I'm currently sitting at one of the tables with Jack, who is my best friend in the world for the duration of our project for our anthropology class. He's drinking a beer and I'm nursing a rum and Coke with no rum. The title of our little study is the mating habits of adult homo sapiens. Personally, I think Jack's just trying to score with whichever hot chick happens to catch his eye and wants an excuse to fall back on when his attempts at flirting don't get him anywhere.

Jack's subject is adult human females, ages nineteen to pushing forty. My subject is Jack. He just doesn't know it and, if I do my write-up properly, he never will.

I feel a nudge against my shin under the table and Jack subtly draws my attention to a pair of twenty-somethings that are whispering back and forth between themselves and shooting glances over toward our table. My attention slides back to Jack and I notice him preening. To hide my smile, I take another sip of my drink. I know the whispers and they're not for him.

"Do you think it's her?"

"It might be. It looks like her."

"Why don't you go over and ask."

"What? Me? No way. I couldn't. I--What if it's not her? It probably isn't."

All it would take would be a smile in their direction. Something to acknowledge them and that's all they'd need to validate their suspicions. Something that would likely have one or both of them scurrying over here to confirm what they think. To ask questions. To ask the question.

I don't spare them a second look.

After the show ended, there was the typical media frenzy. Talk show hosts that wanted to be the one that got the scoop on why the queen had abdicated her throne. Paparazzi that hoped to catch a glimpse of some torrid personal scandal that forced me to quit or to walk away. Oh, and let's not forget the hate mail. Some of it was tame. Some of it were actual threats from people that thought because they'd voted for me that I owed them something. Some of it might have even been considered heart-wrenching. People that claimed they looked up to me and when I'd just walked away from it all...

I finally came out on my own terms, if nothing else to get not only the press but the producers off of my back and so I could get on with my life. I smiled at the camera, looked down long enough to be demure but not long enough to be shy, took a deep breath, and told them that the reason I walked away was because I'd done what I'd come to do. I wanted to prove it to myself--not the public, not the fans, not the show, not anyone but myself that I could win their little talent show and popularity contest. Not in those words, mind you. Must be P.C. for the press... They thought I was competing against the other singers and, well, in a way I was, but not for the prize. I wasn't playing their game, I was playing mine. I was playing against the drama, seeing how far I could work the game that the television audience never sees, never knows they're a part of.

What they reported, of course, was that, while it had been an honor to be named winner, there were other things that I wanted to do with my life. It sounded fine enough to me, so I didn't dispute it. Mostly because, well, there were other things that I wanted to do with my life.

Currently that thing is college. The money from the show won't last me forever, but it's enough to keep me comfortable while I'm attending my classes. I'm only a freshman right now, so I don't have to worry about declaring my major for another few semesters. Right now, I'm just getting the preliminary classes out of the way. The ones that everyone needs credits for but no one can really tell you why, outside of making sure you have a well-rounded education.

Which puts me back in the bar. With Jack. And our project.

He's gotten up and headed over to the Doublemint Twins that noticed me earlier. When I catch all three of them casting looks in my direction, I know this can't end well. So I take my glass and head up to the bar. Or at least that's the plan.

The world spins and goes cock-eyed for a moment. There's a pain behind my eye and I nearly drop the glass as my muscles twitch a little. One hand goes to a nearby chair for support. Dammit. Must have gotten up too fast again. Damn twinges. You'd think I'd be used to them by now.

Right. Bar. Drink. Do not want to play starlet.

Except life has a funny way of throwing things in my face. The bar Jack dragged me to doesn't just have karaoke, oh no. That would be much too Nineties. They have Rock Band. Of course, most people just use the microphone like it's a karaoke machine, but occasionally some brave soul will pick up the guitar or the drum kit and play along with the singer.

The girl standing up there now has just started Evanescence's Bring Me to Life. And while I don't claim to be an expert singer, even if I did win a nationally televised contest, I like to pride myself on being a judge of good music.

What's coming out of this girl's mouth is not good music.

And so, against my better judgment, that little devil on my shoulder whispers in my ear, the angel takes a hike, and I take a deep breath.

You don't need a mike to be heard. All I have to do is get the attention of the people around me and it starts a ripple effect. First one head turns, then two, then a table, then the next couple of tables and soon, more eyes are on me than the game screen.

And I sing, too. I'm not just doing this to get attention, I want to do justice to the song, not hear it butchered by some half-drunk, Britney Spears wanna-be. I let the game carry the male portion, or maybe it's some of the male patrons. I don't notice, concentrating solely on my part.

As the music fades, I drop a ten on the bar for the tender, more than enough to cover my drink and a tip. The applause starts, but I don't notice. Nor do I pay any attention to the calls that are trying to get my attention. My head is starting to hurt again and I know I'm not going to get any peace. It's my own fault. Made my own bed. But there's still that part of me that won't back down from a challenge, real or not.

I swing by to where Jack is standing, the two girls chittering with excitement at this point and I say the magic words that just might bring him a bit of luck as I rest a hand on his arm.

"I need to bounce. I'll see you in class tomorrow."

And with that, I divert the attention to him. He is now the sun, moon, and stars of the world on which his two maybe-soon-to-be conquests reside. I'd really love to see how this one plays out, but I'm not going to be able to now. I'll just have to keep my mouth shut the next time we go out for "research gathering" before the paper is due.

Hailing a taxi, I slide into the back seat and give the driver the address to my housing before I tip my head back to the seat and close my eyes, letting the world just fade away into the sounds of traffic and the whispers in the back of my mind.

[Dragontear]

Excellent story, I like the perspective you used and how it portrayed a more personal, introverted take on singing. Naturally my favorite part was when she usurped the half-drunken wannabe in the bar, did some justice and served the wannabe right.

To note something in real-life, it's a shame you don't need to be good to be famous.

[Copper]

Rin's Soundtrack

Expect this to get updated as the game progresses. As I said, music plays a big part in Rin's life. She loves to sing, even if she won't admit to it any more and downplays her fame from her win on the show. At any rate, here's the soundtrack as it stands thus far.

Evanesence - Bring me to life (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SeP6v3tdrRQ) - Rin's song. Not only is it her favorite piece of music, it's a good Sin-eater song and how she feels, in general, about being resurrected.

The Doors - People are Strange (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O91rA_x9fNY) - Seth's song. Rin hasn't actually met Seth in game yet, but I know *of* him. He's an angel, fallen to earth (not a fallen angel, mind you, at least not in the literal sense.) He's got a bit of an innocence to him, in not understanding the mortal realm, so I joked with my ST that this would fit.

Within Temptation - Hand of Sorrow (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=16ttYwm7GEA) - Actual song for Seth, which, when I sent it to my ST, I got "shockingly insightful." Could be because he has dreams (nightmares really) of battle, of losing, of waiting, of torture...Angels versus Demons is not a pretty thing.

Beyonce - Halo (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fSdgBse1o7Q) - My "possible relationship" song for Rin and Seth, which the ST admits would be "fucking weird" but not out of the realm of possibility. If the two of them do wind up getting together, I could see this being their song.

The Hollies - Long cool woman in a black dress (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lP94PlEtsEQ) - Another "potential relationship song," this time for Rin and Pendergast. He's the FBI agent that's been a constant in all the Geist games so far. He's a bit of a badass, clever, very Holmesian with a dry wit. Take out the badass part and you've got Rin. Two sides of the same coin, those two are either going to spark or burn, one of the two *laughs*

Cascada - Every time we touch (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=08wS5UfomJM) - This has become something of Rin's song for Pendergast and their relationship song, at least on her end. Given his nature, she likes being around him and even brief contact with him tickles at her geist. Not to mention that she's realized that she's attracted to him and he's comforted her on more than one occasion when M'Brook's been around to threaten her.

Edwin McCain - I'll Be (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NhCNx7VEUG0) - Recently, Rin had induct Pendergast into the weirdness that is her life and by induct, I mean give him a crash course in the supernatural word of Sin-Eaters. One aspect of that is that the spirit of his deceased wife is currently being used to make one of her friends into a psudo-Sin-Eater thanks to M'Brook. After telling him that, Rin spent the evening sharing a dream with Pendergast where she essentially did her best to comfort him. The fact that the rainstorm outside the room they were in reflected upon his mood is no coincidence as to why I picked this song.

P!nk - U + UR Hand (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YUtHjOvPKT0) - Rin's song for Dion. Dion is the quintisential frat boy who hits on anything that has tits, including Rin, who, given that she rejected him, only means that she's "playing hard to get." And that Monster she dumped on him for getting fresh? Totally a sign of affection *eyeroll*

Brittney Spears - Womanizer (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6nqJdR9VBTU) - Rin and Dion's song. I won't say it's a "relationship" song in the traditional sense, but I think it sums the two of them up nicely.

Kris Allen - Live like we're dying (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xBjSxo2JGxI&feature=email) - I haven't quite decided if this is the "sum up the game" song or a song for Mercy, one of the other NPCs. As Corrie, Rin's roomie, points out: "I don't think I've ever met a guy more happy to be alive." To which Rin just chuckled. Mercy is one of Dion's krewe, and while he likes to have a good time, he's not an ass about it like Dion is. After conferring with the ST, this is now Mercy's song.

Within Temptation - Stand My Ground (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-nmq1h5cQdk) - The song I've decided kind of sums up the campaign. M'Brook has a tendency to stalk people in dreams and Rin is, essentially, the one that's going to have to stand up to him and out-maneuver the bastard. Granted, I don't think there'll be a chance for someone else to pick up the mantle if she fails, but then, she's not planning on failing.

That's all for the time being. More as the game goes along and I find things that fit the other NPCs.

[Copper]

Excellent story, I like the perspective you used and how it portrayed a more personal, introverted take on singing. Naturally my favorite part was when she usurped the half-drunken wannabe in the bar, did some justice and served the wannabe right.

To note something in real-life, it's a shame you don't need to be good to be famous.

Thank you *smiles* That was Rin's favorite part, too *laughs* Her Vice in the game is Pride, after all. But yes, singing is the one thing that Rin enjoys above all else. She's one of those "music is a universal language" type people. It's a solace for her, it's a joy, it's what gives her that sense of pride (not to the point of her Vice, mind you, but still.) As I said, hopefully, as the game goes on, I can soundtrack it even more than I did Becca's, given the fact that it's such a big part of Rin's life.

[dmronny]

Gul durn it, now the song Long Cool Woman in a Black Dress is going to be stuck in my head all night long. At least its a good song though, so I guess that's not a bad thing.

[Copper]

Could be worse. I have "Womanizer" still from two days ago.

[lurker]

for some odd reasosn I've had Ghost n' Goblins Level 1 stuck in dere for a week or so :p beat THAT!

[dmronny]

Could be a lot worse, a certain Disney song comes to mind as getting stuck in my head if I so much as...damn there it goes.

[Copper]

Given with as much fanfic as I write, you'd think I'd be posting here a lot more often. Ah well. Suppose time off is good. Only been a few, what? Months? Heh. But, got in a bit of a kick to put something up again and since I just happened to have an episodic story, figured I'd do something with that before I formally put it up on other sites.

Let's see...not so usual disclaimer. It is, surprisingly, another Het story. Partially done because the prompt seemed cute (got it off that one site) and my other friend was bitching that "nobody writes girl x guy stories anymore!" So I did this one. It's another Dragon Age, and it's Awakening, so the usual spoiler disclaimers apply, but I really don't think I have too many, but seriously it's been a year at least. I'm not making spoiler excuses for my fandom anymore. Not unless I do DA2. Let's see...Rated...eh, PG13? There's no language that I can think of, no on-screen sex...drinking. I think there's drinking. Other than that, I was going for something kinda sweet this time around. The prompt was for an Anders and Leliana story, complete with courting, and so it rolled around in the brain and this is what came out.

Also, as an aside, I've updated my Geist soundtracks, if anyone cares. I just know updated posts don't show up as new.

Without further ado, I give you: Innocence and Grace

[Copper]

It was the girlish squeals that first got his attention.

The only woman whom he knew to be in the main hall of the keep was the commander and Warden-Commander Elissa Cousland did not squeal like a maid who had caught the attention of a dashing rogue.

Did she?

Quickening his pace, lest this unique event turn out to be something that would disappear as quickly as a Fade dream, Anders stopped in the doorway as he caught sight of the Commander clasping arms with another woman.

Her hair was what first drew his eye. An impossible to ignore mingling of braids and straight red hair that just covered her neck. Leathers, or at least he thought, given that the material didn’t seem to have the same look as, say, Nathaniel’s armor. It was skin, certainly, but seemed more...supple than hide. Two daggers framed her hips, one faintly crackling with lightning and the other, though it looked plain, fairly sung with power, something he could just sense, even if he couldn’t see the enchantments on it. There was also a bow slung over her shoulder that looked nearly as tall as the woman herself but in excellent condition. Nathaniel would know more about that than he, but he could at least pride himself on knowing a fine weapon when he saw it.

“It has been much too long, has it not, Elli?” There was no disguising the woman’s origins, which may have explained the touch of refinement he picked up in her voice.

“I couldn’t agree more, Leli.”

Both of them started giggling again and they shared an embrace that spoke of familiarity and, more importantly, camaraderie. Not wanting to intrude upon the moment further, the mage started to back out of the room when Elissa caught sight of him over the other’s shoulder.

“Ah, looks like you get to meet one of my Wardens right away.” She beckoned him closer. “Leliana, this is Anders, senior among the few mages we have here.”

The red-head turned and he found himself under a pair of studious blue eyes. Starting, he noticed, at his feet, her gaze traveled upward, lingering at his chest and finally meeting his own gaze. A half-smile came to her lips and he watched her eyes lid demurely.

“A pleasure, and a pity,” she remarked, her attention going to Elissa. “Seems this one is safe from having me as his tyrant of an instructor.”

Anders’ brows went up at that, turning his curious look on the commander. He also closed the distance between the three of them, intending on greeting Leliana properly.

“Leli is going to be assisting some of our rogues in their techniques. Nathaniel does a fair job, but there’s certain skills that I know he doesn’t excel at. Hopefully the two of them will compliment each other nicely.”

Offering his hand to Leliana when he was close enough, Anders gently held her fingers as he brought them to his lips, laying a kiss at her knuckles. “Hopefully he doesn’t compliment her too much. His flattery might start to seem insincere.” He grinned.

Leliana laughed. “Should I worry over this Nathaniel, my friend?” She cast a glance to Elissa.

The other woman shook her head. “If you do, I want you to tell me because someone will be in so much trouble...”

“Oh? This sounds like a story I simply must hear.” One brow arched upward.

“I promise you plenty of details later. Shall we get you settled?” Elissa looped her arm with the other woman’s and began to lead her from the hall.

“Lead the way, my friend. Show me more of your grand new home.”

Anders almost followed the two of them, but thought better of it. Given the familiar way the Commander lead Leliana away, it was clear she wanted time with the woman herself. Watching them go, he frowned just slightly, suddenly regretting that he hadn’t the proper training to garner her attention later on.

Realizing that he likely looked strange simply standing in the middle of the hall, he shook his head and continued on his way to his workshop once again. As he went, he mused over the scent that he’d caught the faintest hint of as he’d drawn Leliana’s hand to his lips, wondering if, perhaps, it might be as exotic as the woman herself.

[Copper]

“So,” Leliana drolled. “Who is this Nathaniel and why should I be wary of him?”

They weren’t even out of the hall and she couldn’t resist getting gossip from her friend. It had been ages since she’d seen Elissa and to have her hinting around a man’s name was certainly intriguing enough.

The Warden gave her a sly look. "Well, I suppose you could say that I inherited him with the Keep. He's the son of the former arl and was apparently here when I arrived."

Leliana didn't trust her friend's look. Her brow furrowed as she realized there was something about that statement that she was missing. The son of the former arl? Who had Elli received these lands from? When the realization hit her, she stopped, jerking the other woman to a halt.

"He's a Howe? He's the son of that...that..."

"And nothing like his father, thank the Maker. There's a slight resemblance. There's no denying that. But once we got over the fact that he'd initially come here to kill me, we found out--what?"

"If I wasn't there when you spared Zevran's life, I'd think you mad." Leliana shook her head.

"As I told him, sparing assassins has worked out well for me in the past. Now he's my second."

"And much more than that, I'd gather," the bard teased, delighting in the blush that came to the other woman's cheeks.

"Those are details that you do not need to know, thank you. Not that I would share them anyway. An arlessa can't have all her secrets spread about, now can she?"

Leliana gasped. "You speak as if I would share your secrets with everyone. You should know I would immortalize them in song first and then give them away in the guise of a love ballad."

That got the two of them laughing again. Elissa started them walking again, leading her through the halls and pointing out the occupants of the various rooms that they passed. She also informed the bard that she'd be sharing the wing with herself and the senior Wardens, in deference to her position at the Keep.

"Tell me a little about them, Elli?" They'd finally reached her room and Leliana was eagerly exploring her new surroundings while her friend perched on the corner of her bed. Most of her things hadn't arrived yet, but she was assured that she'd have her trunks within a day, two at the most. The bag that she'd brought with her held the things that she would not risk letting another transport for her.

"Well, you already know Oghren, so that will save me a bit there," Elissa began with a chuckle. "And I'm not entirely certain you'll actually get to meet Velanna while you're here. She doesn't spend a lot of time in the Keep, preferring to patrol the lands instead. She's from one of the local Dalish tribes. I make her report in now and again, but I suppose I can't really stop her from wandering."

"We both know how little they like to be tied to any one place. Is she a warrior, then, like yourself?"

Elissa shook her head. "She was a Keeper's first, I think, before--" She stopped herself. "Before she left the clan." There was more to it than that, but Leliana knew that tone. She'd get no answers from her friend, no matter how hard she plied her. "She's a very powerful mage, but her talents are better suited out there." She gestured toward the window. "And she is also better suited roaming around on her own."

"Charming girl, then?" The red-head arched a brow.

"Do you remember what Morrigan was like?"

Leliana's lips formed a little "Oh" at the explanation. "And Anders?" she found herself asking. There was something about the mage's demeanor that made her want to know more about how he'd wound up at Vigil's Keep.

"Apostate," Elissa replied with a chuckle. "He and the templar that were hauling him back to the Circle Tower just happened to be here when the Keep was sacked by darkspawn. He proved himself good in a fight and I didn't like the bitch that came to collect him, so I conscripted him. He's a gifted healer and reminds me a little of Alistair."

The bard saw the look that passed over her friend's face, coming over to embrace her. "A little too much at times?"

Elissa nodded. "They're good memories, though. And Maker bless him, he's made me laugh even at the times when I've wanted to cry."

"He seems a good friend, then."

"A very good one. I hope you like him, too, Leli. You two will probably get along. And Sigrun, too." She smiled, moving on to explain the Legionnaire she'd recruited. "You'll have to help me keep her busy, though. She doesn't like to be idle, unless she's reading. I only wish you'd had a chance to meet Justice. Admittedly, he took some getting used to, but he was...fascinating."

"Now this sounds intriguing. Do tell." Leaving her friend's side, Leliana unpacked her things to the tale of the spirit which had become a Warden, in a rather round-about fashion.

"Are you hungry?" Elissa finally asked. "I know you've been traveling for the better part of the day. Or would you prefer a bath? Or should I just show myself out so you can get some sleep?"

"A bath would be heavenly." She began working herself out of her drakeskin armor. "And if you don't mind my taking supper so late..."

"This is a Warden stronghold, Leliana. The kitchen staff sleeps in shifts."

That got her laughing. "Fair enough. Let me gather something to change into and you can show me to the baths.

Once she had her things, she followed behind the Warden as they picked their way deeper into the Keep. The stories Elissa had told her of her new companions had her intrigued, but none, perhaps moreso than the golden-haired mage who had boldly introduced himself to her. Pity they wouldn't be spending too much time together in the lists and, Maker willing, she wouldn't be needing his services as a healer all that much either.

Still, the notion of seeing him again seemed like it might be an idea worth pursuing in the near future. It was always worthwhile to be on good terms with someone who could patch you up, or at least that was the excuse she was giving herself at that particular moment.

[Copper]

It hadn't taken long for Leliana to fall into the routine of the Keep. She was up with the recruits in the morning, breaking fast with them and taunting her charges with the "tortures" that she was going to put them through that day.

Not that he noticed, mind you, but she always seemed to look immaculate, even in the pre-dawn hours that they kept. It didn't matter if she'd been up half the night chatting with Elissa and Nate or sitting in the library and composing while Sigrun read, or even sharing a mug--or two!--with Oghren, she was always cheerful and more awake than he could say for himself at such hours.

But there he was, up with the recruits. It was Elissa's standing order that a mage be present at all training sessions, either to add to the lesson or, Maker forbid, put someone back together. Thankfully, the worst they'd had to deal with had been a wrenched knee when two of the recruits had gotten tangled up in one another. And since there were so few mages, they rotated the duty, same as those training.

Normally, too, the list was unoccupied, save those slated for practice, but since Leliana's arrival, there seemed to be more and more on-lookers. Elissa had solved that problem by declaring anyone found loitering would have to join in. A few of the more enthusiastic recruits took her up on the offer, but most cleared out after that.

Today was different. Blurry eyed, he'd made his way down to the yard, picking up his pace as he heard the clash of blades fairly singing as they struck each other. He should have expected what he'd seen, but the spectacle before him left him rooted in the doorway.

Nate and Leliana were in the middle of the courtyard, practically dancing around one another, their blades creating a rhythm as they clashed and scraped together. Both were using daggers, blocking with one and feinting with the other, keeping each other at bay. They moved in such a way, too, that neither would give the other their back, circling on guarded steps, watchful for where the next strike would come from.

Anders knew that Nate was at a disadvantage, fighting in the middle of the yard. Much more comfortable with a bow, if he did have to resort to his blades, he preferred to keep to the edge of the battle, a ghost flitting between enemies.

Leliana, on the other hand, seemed comfortable fighting as she was. Her steps were almost a dance, keeping her just out of the other's range. What seemed to be keeping her from completely gaining the upper hand was the fact that Nate had a longer reach and could keep her at a distance. What the other rogue apparently had a hard time guarding against were her legs. More than once, Anders saw her deliver a rather sharp kick to the archer's shin that had him cursing and backing up, putting him on the defensive as she pressed her momentary advantage.

"Where does a lady learn to fight like that?"

She laughed. "When have I ever claimed to be a lady? Darkspawn don't believe in the niceties of a formal duel."

Anders knew that all too well. More times than he cared to count, he found himself readying a spell while Elissa or Justice interposed themselves between him and some nasty looking weapons. You couldn't count on a controlled environment in a battle, but at the same time, you couldn't let yourself...get...distrac--Maker, was she looking at him? He'd surely been standing there long enough, he was surprised they hadn't seen him before this. But no, Leliana had caught sight of him, he was certain of it, her gaze turning in his direction...

For a split second too long. While her attention had been on him, Nate had closed the distance again and she let out a little cry as he stopped his blade close to her neck, her own coming up too late to deflect the blow.

"Finally managed to break your guard," he stated with a smirk, drawing the weapon away from her and sliding both back into their sheaths. He then stuck out a hand to her. "I can see why Elissa brought you here. They're going to learn a lot from you."

He couldn't make out her response, but from Nate's smile, she'd accepted the compliment. As the other man started into the Keep, he caught sight of Anders for the first time.

"Enjoy the show, Mage?" He grinned as he passed him.

"That was a lucky win."

"Don't remind me." A chuckle followed him back inside.

Finally leaving the door, Anders crossed over to where Leliana was resting. She sat on a bench, elbows on her knees and her head bowed. He hoped she was just catching her breath. Losing a practice match wasn't something to be in tears over.

"I'm sorry I cost you the fight," he remarked quietly.

"What?" She picked her head up and there was a flush to her face. Her lips were parted as she caught her breath. "You didn't cause me to lose."

"It just...seemed like I distracted you, that's all. I try to stay out of the way of the pointy bits whenever I can. I guess I didn't stay that far away."

"You...weren't a distraction, Anders. I simply...grew tired, that's all. I let Nathaniel win because I was getting tired."

Somehow, he didn't believe her. He didn't want to believe her. But then, wasn't that his ego, making him think that she'd only lost because she'd caught sight of him? "Right, well," he cleared his throat. "He didn't hit you at all, did he? Need any patching up?"

He reached out, brushing her hair back from her throat to check for any marks that might have been left there. The one thing he did notice was that she went very still as he did that. Presumptuous of him again, that she'd be comfortable enough with him to be as familiar as he was with the other soldiers here at the Keep.

She drew back, her eyes turning down for a moment before raising to his again. "I'm fine, thank you. We weren't dueling to blood, since our healer had yet to show himself this morning." A little smile pulled at the corner of her mouth.

"That's not what you should probably say to get me to show up on time from now on, you know." He grinned at her.

"Oh? And what might?"

He was thoughtful for a moment. "How about 'Show up early and I'll let you watch more of my impressive techniques?' I think that might work."

"Impressive, am I?" She arched a brow at him.

"Very much so."

Another smile. "Well, thank you. It has been a very long time since I have needed to draw on those particular talents. It's nice to see that I haven't lost my touch."

The sound of the morning's rotation of trainees interrupted them at that point. Clearing her throat softly, Leliana stood up and walked over to greet them. Not a part of her, gesture or tone, let on to the activity that she had just been doing. As far as they knew, she was only there moments ahead of them.

Anders found himself shaking his head, marveling at her endurance. Surely she could match his fellow Wardens in that regard. She truly was amazing, of that he had no doubt.

[Copper]

It had been a stupid mistake. Letting herself be distracted like that. And yet, somehow her body couldn't help it.

Realizing that Anders had been watching her match with Nathaniel, not knowing how long he'd stood there, brought a flush to her cheeks that she couldn't easily dismiss.

To know that his eyes had been on her, watching her as she shuffled in and out of range of her opponent's daggers. Had he been watching the entire thing? Had he seen her movements? Even though it was a simple sparing match, she suddenly felt very conscious about how she'd been performing.

And those feelings continued through the day's lesson as well. She was constantly aware of his watching her as she put the recruits through their paces.

She kept telling herself it was because he had to. Anders was a healer and he had to be mindful. But that little voice in the back of her mind told her that he needn't be so dutiful. If someone were injured, they'd call out to him

No, he was watching her, and it took all of her restraint to keep the flush from her cheeks at that thought. She certainly hadn't sought his attention, but, just as certainly, she wouldn't turn him away.

Turn him away? What was she thinking? He'd been friendly, but that didn't necessarily mean that he was interested. His greeting the first day had simply been...polite. And just now, he'd merely been concerned that she'd been injured during the match. It didn't mean that he was striving for her attention.

Of course, if he were, she certainly wouldn't object. He was handsome and Elissa was right. She could see a little of Alistair in his personality, but it was slight. Anders was certainly his own man. Still, from what she'd learned in eavesdropping on her trainees and conversations with the other Wardens, he valued freedom above most everything else and, if the men were to be believed, that included his choices in partners.

"Never seen him with the same girl twice, that's certain," Sigrun had admitted when she sought her confidence. "But then, he's a flirt. Makes the barmaids giggle and delights in seeing if he can coax a blush out of the recruits."

Freedom like that she could understand. While she wasn't quite as cavalier about her partners as Zevran had been, she knew well the risks of getting attached to someone. Being a bard had taught her that you had to be able to flit from partner to partner, to change your attitude to accommodate your role.

She let out a sigh. That life, however, was behind her. Though she never truly forgot her lessons, she was free to pursue her own desires now.

And something about the blonde's crooked smile had her desiring him.

“Here you go, Ser.” She was drawn from her thoughts by one of the trainees.

“I’m sorry, what?” She realize that the young man was holding out a mug to her, which she reached out and took from him.

“You looked a bit flushed, so we brought some over,” he explained with a bit of a grin.

“I...oh, thank you.” She nodded to him and quickly took a couple gulps of water. At least some of them were young enough to not quite realize why else she might be blushing, but if she were going to train them properly, she was going to have to stop letting her mind wander.

Of course, the best possible way to do that would probably be to ask Elissa to keep Anders away from the yard.

You can do this, Leliana. You’re not a maiden any longer. You can focus your attention long enough to get through your lessons today.

It was just tomorrow and the days after that she was worried about.

Of course, there were plenty of other things going on that helped occupy her mind away from the mage, the biggest being a ceremony that Elissa was holding within a couple of days where the local banns would be in attendance.

“Mostly a chance for them to get together and squabble and try and impress me,” explained the Warden, “but necessary, especially given that there will be several new faces there this year.” Her friend’s tone betrayed the presence of a story there, which she drew out of her while the two of them picked through Leliana’s various garments, trying to find something suitable for her to wear to the occasion.

After wrinkling her nose several times at her mirror, she'd finally settled on a favorite dress of hers. It was a rich, sunset orange that reminded her a little of the robes that she'd worn as a laywoman in the Chantry, and though the color was similar, the cut of it certainly was not. Her shoulders were bare and the neck was just shy of modest. A smooth top gave way to a fuller skirt that began at her hips, accenting her waist rather nicely, she thought with a little smile. It reached to the floor, hiding the shoes that she chose to wear, though the toes of her slippers peeked out with each step, revealing the simple bows that adorned the tops. Not elaborate by any means, they were still comfortable and matched the dress perfectly!

The night of the gathering, she made her way down to the main hall of the keep. From the moment she was announced, she was the focus of several of the attending banns, often times all at once. Most wanted to hear her stories from the Blight and by her second glass of wine, she found herself begging off, promising her would-be audience a grand tale--once she'd finished composing it.

Now that she had time to retreat to a wall and study those gathered, she was enjoying herself more. Her eyes trailed first to Elissa and Nathaniel as they made their rounds amid the guests. She could tell simply by the way her hand rest on his arm or his on her back how much they cared for one another. A smile came to her lips, glad to see her friend happy again.

Turning back to the room, she wasn't sure how it was possible, but she found Anders first. What was even more serendipitous was that he was looking in her direction as she did. He returned her smile, brows arching slightly in question. Before another gesture invited him over, she turned away, sipping from her goblet, and willing her feet to move her away, over to the group attracted by Oghren.

Feeling a touch at her elbow, she turned to meet the mage's inquisitive gaze. "Enjoying one of Oghren's wild tales, my lady?"

She chuckled softly. "This is one I've heard many times. I fear his ending will not surprise me."

"Then, perhaps, you might like someone else to entertain you?" He held out his hand to her.

What harm could it do? It was a simple invitation. Perfectly normal at a gathering such as this one. He was simply being polite. Her being a newcomer to the arling, it would be proper to be escorted by someone whom she'd been introduced to.

Before she could reply, she saw the pinch that came to his smile, watched his fingers curl. She'd debated with herself for too long! Covering his hand with hers, she made certain her expression matched his eager tone. "I would be delighted."

Was it her imagination or had she felt him relax? Surely someone who flirted as much as he had no reason to be nervous. Especially when he was simply being polite to her. She wasn’t expecting him to charm her, though she felt a twinge of disappointment when he kept their conversation to simple things, or let those he introduced her to lead the conversation. It was probably just as well. Each time she watched him smile, she thought she might stutter. To counter this, she tried her hardest to keep her attention on their partners rather than him.

After one circuit of the room, Elissa had come over playfully scolding the mage for taking up all of her time when there were ‘important guests’ who wanted to meet another of Ferelden’s heroes. He’d simply given his Commander a grin and relinquished his hold.

“Can you blame me for wanting to keep her to myself?” he’d asked her.

So had he truly desired her company or was he simply being polite? She hadn’t been trying to read him as much as the others. Something in her wanted to be surprised at what he might do, rather than being able to predict it and either encourage or counter it.

Even after Elissa lead her away, guiding her around to speak more with the banns, she found her thoughts straying as they chatted around her. True, she could likely turn the head of any man present, the one whose attention she most sought was proving difficult. After they’d parted, Anders’ attention had gone elsewhere, though giggles usually indicated where he was in the room. While she’d both seen and heard that was simply how he was, she wasn’t certain how she felt about it. Even if he were interested in her, how sincere would he be in his affections? Was it worth trying? Or would it be safer to simply continue as they were, whatever that may be?

Unwilling to make up her mind at the moment, she allowed herself to grow lost in the revelry of the rest of the evening, sharing more wine and stories with the gathered nobles. Still, with every flirtatious comment from them or offer of another drink or stroll, she found herself begging off, eyes seeking out the one man she wished would prove himself bold yet again.

The end of the evening had her retiring to her chamber alone, although Varel was polite enough to walk her to her door in lieu of one of the guests. She’d mustered up enough courage to give Anders the opportunity, but the mage had disappeared sometime during the evening, leaving her feeling the slightest bit sorrowful that she’d perhaps missed the chance to have him do so.

Perhaps it was a sign that she wasn’t meant to pursue this course, but she couldn’t ignore the feeling that she got in her chest whenever she found herself watching him, nor could she deny the way her pulse sped whenever he flashed a smile in her direction.

“Silly lovesick girl,” she murmured to herself as she readied for bed.

Lying there in the darkness and silence, though, her mind wandered down rather pleasant imaginings, all stemmed from her brief encounter with the mage this evening. Given that she couldn’t stop smiling, she decided how she felt wasn’t silly at all.

She could only hope there was a chance he might feel the same.

[Copper]

Not even hours after the fealty ceremony, Anders was calling on Elissa rather early the next morning. He'd spent the evening debating this with himself and was determined to set things in motion before his mind could catch up with him and tell him what a disaster this idea would likely turn out to be.

“Is something wrong?” Obviously he needed to rouse himself sooner if that was her first reaction.

“No. No emergencies or anything of that sort. I was hoping we could maybe...talk?”

That got her to pause. “About?” She motioned toward one of the chairs.

Anders cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “Leliana.”

He had Elissa’s full attention at that, suddenly feeling as if he’d just been hauled into the First Enchanter’s office for being caught scribbling in the books again. She said nothing, though, merely taking the chair beside him and curling up in it, waiting for him to continue.

"I thought I might ask you, since you're probably the closest to family that she has here. I want...I want your permission to...to court her."

One of her brows arched and she gave him a puzzled look. "Courting? That's something I'd never though myself in a position to...grant. What brought this on, if you don't mind my asking?"

“I…I’m finding myself rather taken with her, Commander. She's all I've been thinking about, ever since you introduced us. I can't get that moment out of my mind. Her smile. Her eyes. Even the way she smelled. And I'm finding excuses to just be where she is whenever I can. But I--” Maker, he did feel like an apprentice again. “I’m not certain if I should...if I can speak with her about it. How I feel, I mean. But I'd like to try."

“You do perfectly well speaking to women, Anders, if my kitchen staff and half the barmaids in Amaranthine are to be believed.” She rewarded him with a bit of a smirk. He supposed he deserved it.

“That’s different.” He shook his head. “That’s not what I want.”

“Not what you want? What do you want, then?”

“As I said, I want to court her, but I,” he dropped his gaze. “I don’t know how. Y’see, we simply didn’t do that in the Tower. You couldn’t. Not with everyone watching. Sure, it was possible, but if you were caught, you were usually hauled into the First Enchanter’s office for a little talk.

“We weren’t...discouraged, but Maker! It was embarrassing! Getting lectured on propriety and, well, the last thing the Chantry wants is more mages, so we get that talk, too. Instead of...of...” He stopped, letting out a frustrated noise, running his hands through his hair. “I think if they didn’t treat intimacies like some sort of taboo, we wouldn’t have these problems. There, I said it.”

“You said a great deal,” Elissa quipped. “But I understand.”

“Good. Because I’m not sure I do. I want...I want to do this properly.” He sighed. “Like I saw Nathaniel do for you. But Leliana and I are different people. I’m not sure his methods would work.”

A slight blush came to her cheeks and she looked flattered. “He was a little more physical in his means of catching my attention. You and Leli don’t exactly have blades and bows in common.”

“What can I do, then?”

She pressed her fingers to her lips as she did when thinking. “Do what you do best: talk.” She smiled. “Leli loves stories. I’m sure you could start there. Then...do what feels right.”

“I’m afraid of that. What if I insult her? Or make an ass of myself?”

“Well, if you insult her, expect to find a dagger somewhere unpleasant.” Her smile assured him she wasn’t entirely joking. “And if you make yourself the fool, you’ll at least have made her laugh--and given yourselves more to talk about.”

He listened, taking in her advice and determined to follow it his own way. It wouldn’t do to try and fit it to the letter, not when he was so bad at following the rules. “I appreciate this, Elissa. I really do.”

“I appreciate you having sense enough to ask.”

He smiled. “It seemed right. Especially regarding her.”

As he got up to leave, she muttered, “Andraste's Grace, Anders."

He held up his hands. "What? I thought asking would be--"

"The scent. It's a white flower called Andraste's Grace. The scent reminds her of her mother."

"Oh," he breathed out as he took in the information, then a smile came to his lips. "Thank you, Commander. I'll remember that."

[Copper]

It had started out simple enough. Anders managed to catch her in the hall, asking if she'd like to sit with him during dinner.

From there, conversation had seemed natural enough. The two of them didn’t exactly get to spend a lot of time together, so taking the opportunity to talk and get to know more about one another didn’t seem so out of place.

Then, running into him in the library wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. He was a mage, after all, and it seemed perfectly normal.

And she was getting better at having him mind her training sessions, not finding him as much of a distraction. It helped that he seemed to be present at many of them, despite the fact that she knew the mages took turns doing so. Still, he would often stay behind to help her tidy up the practice gear, asking her questions about tactics, her favored techniques, and seeming genuinely interested in her way of fighting.

“You’re much more...personal than Nathaniel is,” he remarked. “He prefers his bow.”

“Oh, I do, too,” she replied with a smile. “But the darkspawn don’t always stay far away.”

“Of that I’m well aware,” he chuckled. “Unless, well, I magic them in place.”

“Wynne could do that. Very handy.”

“Wynne? Ah, I remember Wynne! She was always fun to tease. Sharp, too. Gave as good as she got.”

“You knew her from the Tower, then?”

That prompt began several stories of his time actually in the Circle, which prompted more stories of his seven escape attempts, something Elissa had failed to mention. He teased her with the notion he wasn’t telling her everything, which, of course, meant she would have to accept his invitations to carry on their discussions.

Often, they would meet after their evening meal or she would coax them out of him after training. And she wasn’t content to simply be an audience, weaving tales of the Blight or simply sharing stories with a more personal touch whenever the opportunity arose.

It was then she was most comfortable. She was a bard, after all, and entertaining was what she loved to do. But it was different with Anders. Every story she told, be it one she lived or one she knew, he sat and listened to her. It was these times he was actually still, sitting in and taking in every word of them.

One particular evening, they were settled in their usual place in the library: the floor in front of the fireplace. It had started getting chilly in the evenings, so he'd smuggled a blanket out of one of the stores and draped it around her shoulders as he settled beside her.

"You never did answer me," he remarked quietly.

"About what?"

"Well, you told me that you grew up in Orlais, but were born here in Ferelden. You never told me why you came home."

She grew quiet at that, absently pulling the blanket a little tighter around her shoulders. Her attention drifted away from him to a spot on the floor beyond her feet. Months. It had taken months for her to trust Elissa enough with her story and yet, as soon as Anders had asked, she'd wanted to tell him.

What harm could it do? she asked herself. That part of your life is behind you now. And he's been nothing but honest with you.

Not to mention how strange it was, but she felt safe with him almost immediately. Something in her wanted a closeness between the two of them, wanted to know what it would feel like to have his arms around her as he simply held her. A little smile came to her lips as she wondered what his heartbeat would sound like.

"Oh!"

She was suddenly staring down at a pair of fair eyes and a playful smirk. Anders had stretched out and pillowed his head on her lap.

"If you don't want to tell me, I understand. It's just that, well, you were wandering away from me and I thought I should bring you back."

Her fingers settled in his hair, combing her nails lightly along his scalp. "It's not that. It's just..." She sighed, her attention turning downward once more and finding nothing but curiosity and perhaps a touch of worry in those soft eyes. She gave him a smile and took another breath.

"As I've told you, I was once a bard in Orlais. I had a mistress who taught me everything that I needed to know to survive as one..."

By the time her tale was concluded, they'd just about changed positions. Anders was sitting up again and she found herself leaning against him. His arm draped slightly around her back, keeping her close but not holding her to him. She could still slip free, if she truly wanted to. Glancing up, she saw a peculiar smile on his face.

"What are you thinking?"

"Hmm? Oh, nothing too terrible," he chuckled. "Just that if the sisters we had in the Tower had been anything like you, I don't think I'd have tried to run away quite so often."

Leliana felt the blush rising to her cheeks again. "It doesn't bother you?" She hoped to deflect from that with her question.

"What?"

"That I did all those things?"

He brought his hand over, lightly resting it on top of hers. "What we do makes us who we are, Leliana. Every time we make a choice, it changes us a little. Would you be the same woman if you'd made different choices in your life? If you hadn't become a bard, you never would have wound up here in Ferelden. And, well, I can't say that we might not have ever met, because believe me, I thought about running away to Orlais several times," he laughed. "But we wouldn't have met now. Like this." He brought his arm up and draped it lightly across her shoulders.

"And I'm very happy to have met you, Anders." She turned her gaze up to him again.

"Wow, you're the first person that's told me that in a very long time. Usually it's 'You're so frustrating, I could scream' or 'Now what did you do?' or, my personal favorite, the long-suffering sigh. It's amazing how expressive one little gesture can be, isn't it?"

She couldn't help it. Given the expression he was making along with his comments, she started giggling, bringing her hand up to cover her lips. His own came up, drawing it away.

"You should never hide a smile so lovely."

And she found herself smiling, truly smiling, at those words. She'd been taught it wasn't proper to laugh too loudly, but something in his encouragement warmed her. That he noticed her smile spoke a lot for him...and his affect on her, if he could, indeed, make her smile like that.

He lowered their joined hands just in time to have them bumped by something warm and fuzzy. With a meow and a little squeak, Ser Pounce-a-Lot padded into the mage's lap and promptly curled up.

"It looks as though someone else is wanting of your attention," she said with a soft laugh.

One of his brows arched. "Someone else?" A little smile pulled at his lips.

She just smiled in return, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear. It certainly wasn't lost on her that his eyes followed the gesture before returning to watching her.

"I thought to ask you," he said after a few more minutes of silence, "if you'd be interested in accompanying me to the city. Near as I can recall, you haven't been there yet and Elissa pulled rank on me and is sending me there to take care of a few things. If you're interested. It'll be a journey of a couple of days, but somehow I don't think that's a problem for you." He smiled.

Leliana thought for a moment over the invitation. It would be a good opportunity for her to finally visit Amaranthine proper and, well, though they were going there on what was likely Warden business, she had a feeling that Anders wouldn't be asking if he didn't have something in mind. At least, that's what she was hoping.

"I think I'd like that."

"Really? I'll make the extra preparations, then. I just hope telling you I'm supposed to be leaving tomorrow isn't too soon?"

The sheepish look on his face made her laugh again. "I'll be fine. In fact, given how much I know you love mornings, I'd make a wager that I might even be ready before you."

"Hmm, and what would the wager be?" He was giving her a cocky look, coupled with arched brows.

"As a rule, I never gamble like that among friends, so why don't we keep it simple. The loser has to buy the winner," she thought for a moment, "two drinks."

"You have yourself a wager, my lady." He stuck out his hand and the two of them shook on it. "Come on, Pounce. We'd best turn in early if we're going to win ourselves some free ale."

She found herself laughing at that as well, though he wasn't in a hurry to rush off. Gathering up the kitten in one arm, he held out his hand to her, helping her to her feet and then bending down to pick up the blanket as well.

"See you in the morning, Anders. Bright and early," she teased as they finally parted.

Though it was late, she took a little time to at least begin packing, that way she could give herself a bit of a head start for the morning. Thinking about their playful bet, she couldn't help but giggle to herself as she readied for bed, finding herself too excited to sleep for a time. When she finally did slip into slumber, it was to more smiles and even more playful thoughts.

[Copper]

He lost the bet, of course.

Arriving in the main hall, he found Leliana sitting on one of the benches, lazily kicking her feet and humming to herself. She made a show of yawning and stretching though she certainly didn't look like she was still tired. In fact, she looked as though they should have been on the road several hours ago.

Then again, that had been his plan all along.

When she'd suggested the bet, he saw it as the perfect opportunity to, well, buy her something to drink without being very obvious about it. If she thought they were playing around, it might make things easier to accept than him seeming to be plying her with alcohol.

Not that he was considering plying, mind you, but he was no fool when it came to knowing his reputation within the Vigil. Certainly Leliana had to have at least discovered one or two stories, or, at the very least, been made to listen to one or two. And yet, she still agreed to accompany him. The Maker moved in mysterious ways.

Of course, it probably would have been better if he'd remembered his reputation here in Amaranthine rather than just be worried about the Keep.

Their task had been completed without incident. Elissa had wanted him to check on some deliveries, touch base with a few of their contacts, and, "For Maker's sake, don't antagonize the Templar while you're there."

Easier said than done, when Leliana had insisted upon visiting the Chantry while they were there. His saving grace had been that he was known as a member of the Grey and he'd practically been Elissa's other shadow during the time that she was overseeing the reconstruction of the city. It was still coming along, but the people were really putting all they had into it. If he didn't know any better, he'd swear they were trying to make the city better than it was before.

What it meant, though, was that the Templar here in the city knew him and so long as he didn't cause any trouble, they left him alone. It didn't stop him from being nervous about being there, though, but watching Leliana as she walked the aisle of the chantry to the podium where sermons were delivered was a delight. If he had to compare it to anything, it would have been his first time leaving the Vigil as a Warden. Certainly there was nothing spectacular about the sights. He'd seen a few chantries on his travels and they all seemed quite similar and there was nothing overly special about the Keep's courtyard, and yet, seeing them for the first time, with a newcomer's reverence; or better yet, seeing that reverence in someone else's expression made it seem new again to him as well.

When she'd finished exploring the building proper, she took a moment to speak with the Revered Mother, something that had Anders wincing. Not a few moments into her conversation, he appeared at her side.

"Leliana, my dear, we still have to pick up those bundles from...the..." He hadn't thought this bit through. "Place. With the packages. That have our things in them."

Definitely not his smoothest escape attempt, but it seemed to work.

"You're quite right, Anders. Thank you. If you'll excuse us, Your Grace." She bobbed her head to the older woman, who just frowned at Anders as he lead her off. "Maker, thank you. I realized my mistake as soon as I introduced myself."

Anders chuckled. "You should have been there the time the Commander," he glanced around to make sure they wouldn't be overheard, "spread rashvine all over the woman's bed."

Leliana jerked to a stop. "She did not!"

"She did. I was there when she snuck in and everything." He grinned. "Of course, at the time, we thought it was just fragrant herbs to make her room smell better. At least that's what the Orphans told us."

"Orphans?" She didn't look like she believed him.

"I'll tell you over a drink," he promised, leading her once again toward the door, down the steps, and over to the Crown and Lion.

Before ordering that, he secured the two of them rooms for the evening. It was too late to start back to the Vigil at this hour. Better to get going in the morning. For now, though, there were drinks to be enjoyed and more tales to be woven. But first, he needed a rest.

Anders sagged against the table, arms on the wood and chin on those. "Elissa is going to be the death of me. Running me ragged like this."

"You should have been with her during the Blight. I believe I've set foot in every inch of Ferelden."

"Hmm. You know, we've shared heroic stories of our illustrious commander. What about the not so illustrious ones?" He gave her a sly look.

"Gossip? Is that what you wish?" Her lips quirked a little.

"Would an ale or two make the notion more palatable?"

"Well, since you're offering..."

Chuckling, he got up and headed to the bar for the aforementioned drinks. While he was waiting, he suddenly felt arms around him, followed by a delighted "Anders! You're back!"

Extracting himself from the embrace, he found a petite brunette with tight curls staring at him with a smile on her face. His mind whirled for a moment. "Um, er, hello, M-Mah-May. May."

"It's been a while, stranger!" The bartender set down his mugs. "Ooh, you're not one to waste time, are you?" She scooped one into her hand and took a gulp from it before he could protest.

"It...has." He didn't dare look over in Leliana's direction. "And, unfortunately, it will have to be longer. I'm here on business."

"Since when has that stopped you from having a good time?" She attempted to snake her arm around his neck.

He ducked away. "May, please." He shook his head. "I can't. Not tonight. Not any night. Not anymore."

She stopped, mug halfway to her lips. "What?"

"I...There's someone I'm...with." He gave her a telling look.

A snort escaped her. "You were with me last time. And that blonde Antivan girl the time before that. And then there were those two--"

"May, stop," he hissed. "That was...before. I've...settled. I'm not...not interested in--"

"Settled?" Her brows arched and she all but laughed out the word. "You?"

He frowned. "Yes. I met someone who--"

"Oh, I see. You just met a new girl, that's all." Her scowl relaxed. "You know, if you'd like, we--"

"No," came out through grit teeth. "I don't want anyone else. Just her."

She huffed a breath out of her nose. "So that's it, huh? Some new chit strikes your fancy and I'm not good enough anymore?"

It was his turn to scowl. "I made it very clear that I wasn't interested in more than a night or two."

"And yet you're settling for...for what?" Her eyes cast around the bar and he knew she saw his staff near the table. "That red-headed little tart over there? I could snap her in half."

Anders barked a laugh. "I'd like to see you try," he muttered. "And I'd ask that you don't talk about her that way."

"Oh, you ask do you? Well, here's what I think of you, your little princess there, and your settling." She dashed the rest of the ale in his face and stormed off.

Clearing his eyes, he meekly asked for a towel and another ale. As he was wiping his face, he felt slim fingers brush over his own, taking the rag and tending to him.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," he mumbled.

"She wasn't very happy with you, was she?" Leliana gave him a crooked smile.

"I make it very clear to people I'm with that it's...casual. No commitment. Most understand. Some...don't."

She laughed softly. "You act as though you're the only one whose had a jealous paramour." Something about her smile seemed a little forced, though.

"Still, not quite how I wanted to address that aspect of my life." He gave her an apologetic smile. "And I still owe you an ale." He pushed the mug toward her.

"Thank you."

She was a bit more subdued after that, as was he. Their plans of gossip were forgotten in favor of a meal and an early start. If they pushed, they'd be back at the Keep by nightfall, and that option sounded good right now.

Tossing about in his bed, his mind swirled over the exchange, whether it could have gone better, or if he could or should have warned Leliana what they might encounter. He sighed. It was over and done and she seemed to be taking it well. Though her expression nagged at him. Something about the exchange bothered her, but he couldn't place what.

Halfway back to Vigil's Keep, it hit him.

"You thought I meant you, didn't you?" He stopped, putting himself in front of her.

"What?"

"When I said no commitments. You thought I was talking about us, too."

"With what I've heard of your past, Anders, can you blame me?"

He gave her a wry smile. "Not really. But I meant the other things I said, too. About finding someone who meant more to me than just something fleeting."

"Have you?"

He nodded slowly, bringing his gaze up to meet hers. "I have."

A tinge of pink bloomed across her cheeks and she let out a soft, almost embarrassed little laugh. Taking a breath, she put her attention back on him. "Well, if that's the case, are there any more surprises I should know about like your friend May?"

"Something tells me that if I tell all of those, you'll change your mind about me."

"Hmm. You'll just have to take a chance on that, won't you?"

He chuckled. "And taking chances seems to be what I do best."

And so, he found himself trading more stories with her the rest of the way back. In addition to clearing secrets between them, it also helped pass the time. Still, it was practically the middle of the night by the time they were safely inside its walls again.

Engrossed in their talk, they truly didn't stop until they stood outside her door.

"Thank you for accompanying me, Leliana. Having you with me made this trip more than pleasant."

"Well, I certainly got to experience a good deal. Perhaps we'll have to go exploring through the streets sometime again soon?"

"I think I like that idea." He reached out and took her hand, bringing it to his lips before letting her slip away.

"Good night, Anders." She took a step back, stopping in the doorway and laid a hand on the frame, giving him a little smile as she did so.

"Good night, Leliana." He hesitated for a heartbeat and then reached up, fingers dusting her cheek, his hand cupping there as he held her, leaning close to let his lips brush against hers. Hearing a soft sigh, he firmed up the kiss slightly, deepening it with gentle tugs on her lower lip, but at the same time, keeping it almost chaste.

Drawing back, he caught the hitch in her breathing, barely hearing it over his own deep breaths. Licking his lips, he gave her a smile. "See you in the morning." And with a bow, he turned and made himself walk away from the door, letting out the breath he'd been holding when he finally heard it click shut.

Passing the entrance to his own room, he found another door that was just as familiar to him. Letting himself in, he stopped with his back pressed against it.

"Nate! You'll never believe what just happened!"

If he hadn't been so giddy, he likely wouldn't have missed the feminine squeak that came from the direction of the bed. As it was, the shuffling drew his attention and as he crossed over to talk to his friend, he found that Nathaniel wasn't alone in the bed.

Elissa was lying beside him, the covers pulled up to nearly her shoulders and Nate's chest. From the position of his arm, Nate had it wrapped around her back, allowing her to cuddle so close. "Anders," she said by way of greeting, though her voice seemed a little strained.

He rubbed his face with his hands, letting his fingers drag slowly over his lips. "Leliana kissed me," he stated, unable to keep the smile off of his face. "Well, all right, it was more that I kissed her, but she kissed me back. It was...wonderful. She's so sweet!"

Nathaniel cleared his throat, scratching a hand through his hair as he stared at the mage beside his bed. "Anders, you know that any other time I would be immeasurably happy for you, but don't you think this is something better suited to tell me in the morning?"

Stopping his pacing, Anders blinked as he looked over at the rogue. "I...I'm sorry. I just...It just happened and it wasn't like I planned it or anything, but that makes for the best reactions, right? Being spontaneous?" He went back to following the perimeter of the rug Nathaniel had laying on his floor.

"Spontaneity is definitely something that makes a relationship interesting," the dark-haired man agreed.

"And it's likely good you didn't push things further than that," Elissa added. "Leli hasn't been very close to anyone since I've known her. I'm sure she appreciates you taking things slow."

"You really think that?" Anders stilled again and turned to face the pair in the bed. "I just...I have been simply because I didn't want to make an ass out of myself."

"Yes, that's definitely something you'd want to avoid." Nate sucked on a tooth, raising his eyebrows as he concluded the statement.

"You...you don't think I'm taking things too slowly, do you? I mean, she kissed me...back. That's got to tell her that I...like her, doesn't it? And I doubt she'd have let me if she weren't interested herself. I just...I'm so afraid someone else might...might..."

"Steal her away?" Elissa concluded for him. He nodded vigorously. "Anders, Leliana knows when a man is interested in her and if she didn't feel the same way, you'd know."

"I know. I just...I've never really...I told you that it wasn't like this in the tower. I want to know...I want to be sure that I'm doing this right."

"You are," she affirmed. "She certainly hasn't come complaining to me about your attentions, that much I can tell you."

"She...talks to you about me?"

Nate let out a soft groan. "Mage, it's the middle of the night. You can have tea and gossip with the commander tomorrow. Is that agreeable?"

"But I--" Anders blinked again, noticing for the first time that the two of them were in the bed together. He thought nothing of the fact that Nate was shirtless, but the way the commander had the covers tucked around her, not to mention the flush that was on her cheeks... "Oh. Oh! Oh, Maker! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

Hiding his face in his hands for a brief instant, he suddenly turned and fled out the door, a flush burning up from the base of his neck. Once he was safely entrenched in his room, he paced around, hands covering his mouth and nose, rocking a little as the realization of what he'd done finally hit him. Sitting down on his bed, he ran both hands through his hair.

Nate and Elissa had been...and he'd...but Leliana had...

That last thought had him smiling again and the elation of what had happened refused to keep his mood dampened for very long.

"She kissed me," he breathed out softly, the words followed by another delighted laugh. "And you two should learn to lock your door!" he called to no one in particular, since the two he was addressing wouldn't hear him anyway.

Sagging onto his bed with another happy sigh, he flopped back onto the mattress, arms spread.

"She...kissed me."

[Copper]

Leliana stood there, listening to the mage's footsteps as he walked away from her door. Her cheeks tingled with warmth and she could still feel the press of his lips against hers. Bringing her fingers up to brush over them, a smile accompanied the soft giggle that bubbled up from her chest.

Spinning on her toes, she prepared herself for bed, humming quietly as she did so. Pausing in front of the vanity that had been provided for her, she scooped up her brush and began running it through her hair. It was beginning to get long again and she wasn't certain that she wanted to have it cut off once more. Staring at herself in the mirror, she found herself wondering what Anders would think. If he'd prefer running his hands through it as it were now or if it were longer. His own came to near his shoulders, so it was possible he preferred length. Perhaps she'd have to see what he thought the next time that they talked.

Would there be a time for that? she mused. A small part of her worried that they might lose what they had built together. Given what had just transpired, she shouldn't think that way, but past experiences began to creep their way into her thoughts.

He wouldn't have kissed you if he didn't feel something for you, she told herself. At least that was what she hoped. Given what they'd talked about on their way home, she was nearly certain the kiss had been something more than a passing fancy.

Getting the answers she wished out of the mage, however, was beginning to prove difficult. Whenever they were together, Anders seemed...distant. It was as if after their kiss, he didn't wish to be so close. He wasn't avoiding her, but the little intimacies they shared had all but stopped. And any time she thought to bring up the conversation, he'd deflect it or he would make some excuse to leave.

"Something's on your mind." Nathaniel reached down to help her up after tripping her for the second time during their sparring match that day.

"I know. I'm sorry. I just--" She cast her eyes to the mage watching over them. Anders had missed the last two sessions.

He followed her gaze. "I think I'm beginning to see."

"That obvious?" she asked sheepishly.

"No, but I'm able to put a few things together."

She sighed. "You are his confidant, Nathaniel, are you not? Did I..." She worried her lip. "Did I do something to push him away?"

He almost looked startled at that. "Oh, Maker, no." He shook his head. "Nothing of the sort. If nothing else, you helped him settle down. And all without him even realizing it." He added the last part with a chuckle.

Perhaps that was the problem, then. He was feeling confined by her presence. "Have I?" She fidgeted with the pommel of her dagger. "Is that a good thing? Him settling?" She thought more about the talks that they'd had, about how he valued freedom above all else. The last thing she wanted was to take that away from him.

"Probably not the right word." Nathaniel grew quiet for a moment, a little smile coming to his lips. "You make him happy, Leliana. I've known him for some time and this is the most content I've ever seen him. He was giddy enough to be free of the Circle. Chattered endlessly about it. Now, he's very quiet, but he gets this...smile that tells me he's thinking about you."

"Are you sure it's me he's thinking about?" She almost didn't want to ask that question, but if she wanted to be certain, she needed to know.

"Oh, I'm quite sure. There's no denying that wistful look that comes over his face and the fact that he's very easily distracted when he's like that." A smirk played over the dark-haired man's lips, though it faded when he saw the frown on her own. "What's troubling you, Leliana?"

She let out a sigh. The last thing that she wanted to do was to burden someone else with her own troubles, but she'd been unable to figure out what was going on with the mage herself, so perhaps an outside approach might be necessary.

"I...you say he thinks of me? Then why is it when we're not together? If I'm with him, he stares off, barely hearing me. He doesn't," she made a helpless gesture that encompassed the yard, "come here any more. He told me how he felt about the two of us and now he seems to be doing the complete opposite of it. I don't understand."

The other rogue shook his head and motioned for her to head over to one of the resting benches along the fence.

"You're not frightening him away, if that's your fear, Leliana. Anders is...well, it's hard not to hear of his reputation. This is new to him and he's afraid of making a mistake."

"So he avoids me instead?"

"I don't pretend to know his mind." He let out a bit of a sigh. "Try catching him somewhere that he can't run and...reassuring him. He'll kill me for telling you this, but I don't wish to see you so troubled. And Maker knows, it might help him as well." He chuckled. "He's just as uncertain as you are and, I think, at a bit of a loss."

"Well, that's silly." She shook her head. "He has nothing to worry about. Is that why he changed?"

"It could very well be. He might be afraid how he acted before will chase you away."

"Silly mage," she muttered.

"Isn't he?" Nathaniel looked thoughtful. "Why not let me have the recruits for today? I'll put them through some archery paces. You go find that mage and beat some sense into him."

She smiled. "Thank you, Nathaniel. I'll make myself scarce before the recruits arrive."

"Try the workshop. I think I saw him there earlier."

"Thank you!" She waved back to him and after shedding armor and weapons, she made her way there.

Pushing the door open slightly, she heard the rattle of the mixing devices and a smattering of curses that made her chuckle softly. Not wishing to startle him, she slipped in and shut the door with a soft click. Waiting until he set down the potion he was working on, she cleared her throat. "Good morning, Anders."

He still jumped, but actually smiled when he saw her. Then his expression turned to one of concern. "Leliana? Is everything all right?"

She nodded. "I'm here to visit, not for healing," she assured him, watching him relax. She could ask him right away, but that might put him on guard. Better to ease into it. "What are you working on?"

"Draughts to help refresh us during combat. The apothecary in Amaranthine put me on the idea."

She moved next to him. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"I've got things under--" He paused, frowning, then a little smile pulled at his lips. "I mean, well, if you'd like. It's mostly measuring and mixing right now."

"Just show me what to do."

They spent the morning and through lunch working together. They talked little, but he seemed more relaxed around her. When they broke for an afternoon meal, she finally broached the subject.

Anders hung his head, looking almost dejected. "I'm sorry. I...You had it right. I'm...afraid. I don't want this to be fleeting and I don't want to rush into things. But I shouldn't be afraid to take a risk, should I?"

She smiled at him. "No, you shouldn't."

"You'll forgive a fool, then?" He looked at her almost expectantly, still nervous.

"Why wouldn't I?" Threading her fingers into his hair, she drew his lips to hers and coaxed him into a warm kiss.

When they parted, he was smiling. "I was going to give you this, as an apology, but I think a simple gift is much better."

He drew out a stoppered bottle from his pouch and handed it to her. At his urging, she opened it, a familiar scent wafting from it.

"Is this--?"

"Distilled in oils, so you can wear it whenever you wish."

"So sweet! Thank you!" She wrapped her arms around his neck, giving him another kiss.

His hands settled around her waist in reaction to the gesture. "Mmm. If I'd known that would be my thanks, I'd have given it to you sooner."

She laughed softly, brushing her fingertips through the hair at his temple. Leaning closer, she rest a cheek against his shoulder, finding comfort in his embrace. "I almost wish Elissa were having another gathering of her banns. Then I would have a reason to dress up and wear my lovely new present."

"Do you need to dress up for that? I thought to make something you could have any time."

Picking her head up, she flashed him an impish smile. "But what lady doesn't like a chance to dress up as well?"

"Ask Elissa that question," he replied with a laugh, then grew thoughtful. "And who needs the banns to dress up? Meet me for dinner tonight, in my room." He stepped apart from her, taking her hand in his and dusting his lips over her knuckles. "I look forward to sharing a meal with lovely company."

And that had been several hours ago. Now she was fretting in front of the mirror again. Her gaze kept drifting to her orange dress, but he'd already seen her in that. Still, nothing else seemed quite right. And would he truly care if it were the same? Or would it only matter that she were in her finery?

Taking a deep breath to stir away the butterflies, she made her decision, finishing off her outfit with dabs of the perfume at her wrists and neck. Thankfully, as she and Anders were in the same wing of the keep, she reached his door without any questions or puzzled glances.

He answered her knock by drawing the door open wide. Of course, the first thing that she noticed was him, or rather, the cut of the robes he was wearing. They were Tevinter style, but different than the ones she was certain he was normally in. They seemed suited for someone of a much higher position than a Grey Warden mage who ran around in the Deep Roads or the woods all the time. His hair was pulled back, as usual, and due to her delight at seeing him, it took her a moment to realize that he'd shaved as well.

"Good evening." She couldn't help but smile as she offered her hand.

"Good evening, my lady." He kissed her hand in greeting, but instead of releasing it, she felt him smile and then turn her wrist gently so that he could lay a kiss against there as well. "Please. Dinner awaits."

He lead her into the room and helped her into one of the chairs that were there, returning to shut the door before joining her. It was very intimate, that she noticed right away, and felt her butterflies settling again. Candles illuminated the room from the table and a few shelves around them, the light glinting off the glass of the wine bottle he was currently using to fill their goblets. Two covered plates sat at each of their chairs, the domes doing little to mask the scent of the roast beneath them. He drew the lids away with a flourish, revealing a meal that obviously had a lot of care put into it, given there were other foods accompanying the meat, all dished out as well.

"So where is our chaperone this evening? I don't see him begging for scraps," she asked midway into the meal.

"I asked Sigrun to mind him this evening. I thought he might be a bit of a distraction. Especially after he tried at least three times to make sure that my robe was, in fact, dead and the trim in need of a good batting around."

"It's good that he looks after you so," she teased, taking a sip of her wine.

"He does, indeed. But there are times when I need advice and all he can suggest is looking adorable and scampering away before someone realizes you're the one that's upset everything."

"Hmm, that actually seems like very good advice. He is wise, your Ser Pounce-a-Lot."

"Aye, but there was one problem he couldn't help me with. Except for, perhaps, the looking adorable part. So I am very grateful a dear friend saw fit to make me face what it was that was troubling me."

"Your friend is also very wise, it would seem."

"She is. And clever. Strong. And stunningly beautiful."

"My, this is a friend indeed. You seem lucky to have her."

"I thank the Maker every day that I do." He rose from his chair, moving over to her side and sunk down, kneeling beside her on one knee. They joined hands, fingers threading between one another. "Though in truth, it's she that has me, completely."

Brushing the fingers of her free hand along his jaw, she raised his chin, urging him to his feet once again and joining him, never once breaking the hold they already shared. Laying a kiss or two against his lips, she saw him smile as she felt one gracing her own features.

"I feel as though I am the lucky one," she whispered. "I never dreamed of finding someone who makes me feel as I do with you, Anders. You are not the only one who thanks the Maker for his blessings."

They stood there for several heartbeats, each holding the other in an embrace that conveyed more feeling than either could put into words. She felt safe in his arms. Warm. Loved. And from the gentle sigh she heard, she knew he felt the same.

"I suppose this is the part where I whisk you off into a...grand spectacle of a dance that shows everyone how happy we are together, but alas, we seem to be lacking both music and an audience," he chuckled softly in her ear. "Not to mention the fact that I haven't a notion how."

She laughed, pecking his cheek before drawing back. "Fortunately, you have me to help you with that."

Humming softly, she settled his hands around her and began slowly leading him through very simple steps. He was a quick learner, though, and soon, so long as they didn't try anything fancy, he was guiding her around the small space of his room, humming along with her to provide them with a proper tune.

Both laughing after they finished, he reached up, brushing some of her hair back behind her ear. "Thank you, Leliana. Not quite the dashing figure I hoped to impress you with, but I much preferred this over sweeping you off your feet."

"There are many ways to do that, Anders. Consider me swept." She laughed gently.

Silence settled between the two of them again and she found her brow pinching, watching some indecision play over his face. He caught her watching him and favored her with a smile.

"Stay tonight. Please."

His tone was tender, not wanting, and mirrored in his gaze. Something about it made her chest flutter and she couldn't keep a smile off of her face. Instead of answering him with words, she did so with a kiss, one that steadily deepened as he wrapped his arms around her, fingers sliding into her hair, his other hand skimming along her back.

As they parted, he let out a soft chuckle. "And here I thought I was going to have to bribe you with dessert." A little smirk played over his lips.

Laughing, she drew back, tugging him with her to the table again. "Bribe, no. But if you think I'm going to miss it, you are sorely mistaken."

Shaking his head, he chuckled as he helped her into her chair once more. "It never crossed my mind." He paused, taking up their glasses and passing the one to her. "To new beginnings," he murmured.

They chimed together. "And beautiful ones at that," she concluded.

-Fin

[dmronny]

All right two questions who/what is Rin's Geist and who/what is M'Brook?

I'll let you know what I think of the story after I get through it but I'm only about a quarter of the way right now and I'm going cross-eyed so I need to stop for now.

[Copper]

Rin's Geist is Quetzalcoatl, the winged serpent. When we made Rin for the game, it was decided that she'd be a little more powerful from the get go because she's part of the "end chapter" of our little trilogy (and supposed to be the one to take down M'Brook.)

Apologies, I haven't explained M'Brook in detail, just name. He's actually Diogenes, Pendergast's brother (and yes, if either of those names have been sounding familiar, the ST borrowed characters and tweaked them. Because they're fun.) M'Brook is the name that the changelings use for him. He was kidnapped by the Fae Lord Jareth (no, she wasn't thinking when she named him and the first words out of Rin's mouth when she learned that was "Jareth? His name is--?" The character telling her told her to "shut up and don't say it.") at about the age of 6 and held in his realm until he was around 18-20 or so (I think). He got free and has pretty much been on a conquest to do two things: Ruin his brother's life and become all powerful. He tried in Boston and that wound up with Becca sticking an enchanted dagger in his heart. Then, in Erie (the second game, I don't blather about that too much) he wound up having a good chunk of his and the Abyssal lord he serves cult beaten to a pulp, set on fire, and then blown up by my other Sin-eater, Steph (except for the blown up part...That was the Hunters.) Now he's in NYC, attempting to, again, ruin his brother's life by attacking the people he cares about (ie Rin and Pend's ward, Corrie.) and is also currently attempting to merge the Underworld, a fae realm, and the suppernal realm (aka, heaven, or the realm of the angels/mages).

Charming guy, neh?

Ohyeah, and added one more song to Becca's soundtrack. Forgot it the other night when I was tacking on all the others.

[dmronny]

Ah I see, I guess I just hadn't realized all three games were connected for some reason despite you saying that Pendergast was in all of the games. Some things make a bit more sense knowing that the games are connected. Feel free to shoot me for this but did M'Brook learn to juggle from Jareth.

[Copper]

Yeah, the Boston game sort of crossed over when we had our little Halloween excursion and Christmas (Becca is originally from Erie and she dragged the entire Boston krewe down, and Cass and Rafe over from Italy). And somehow they all sort of just seemed to mesh together. Not to mention Matt got sent down to Erie to help Steph when her buddy Zane went missing.

Now, in the NY game, Cass and Rafe are there, overseeing the Hunters (and trying not to get killed by irate family. Long story.); Jace is there, watching his brother's back; Steph *wants* to be there because M'brook's there (he kinda kidnapped her girlfriend and replaced her with a fetch, not to mention the whole cult thing...); Xander and her fiance, Dragon, were there long enough to have a confrontation with Seth; Julian was there watching Jace's back and to give Rin advice about M'brook (he's now back in Boston); and now Becca's currently on a plane because Jace came to realize that he needs her beside him, not just as his fiance and lover, but as a partner. (The in-game version was sweeter, but a little hard to recreate here, heh.)

As for Pendergast, he started out investigating the "rabid dog attack" that put Becca in the hospital, not to mention the couple of break-in's in her apartment (orchestrated by M'brook). He also knows Becca's landlord, Charlie, who's ex-FBI. Poor guy could *never* get a straight answer out of Becca or Jace. He came a little closer with Steph, who has no qualms telling people that she can see ghosts. They think she's either crazy or make up their own excuses for it. She did lie to him about the business with Zane and what *really* happened at the two clubs that were harboring M'brook's cults, but she was at least watching his back and keeping an eye on Corrie now and again. Rin is the one that gets to truly explain all the weirdness to him, dragging him with her into the Underworld and explaining what exactly his brother is now capable of and that the unconscious man currently on the futon in his library is essentially an angel. Little things like that.

[Luppikun]

Wait... Pendergast as in Agent Pendergast? Of The Relic?

[dmronny]

Dear god will that be an interesting conversation with Pendergast, when she explains everything to him. So is krewe the Geist term for a group who works together much like coterie works for Vampire. Just curious because it's kind of an odd choice to me since I actually was a member of a krewe back in the day. I also just realized that the playlist is much better if I don't click on everything individually and just let the youtube playlist go on it's own. I swear I'm completely oblivious sometimes.

Now for the story which I loved by the way, it wasn't quite what I expected knowing the usual content of your stories but I still loved it. Maybe I'm just a big sap but I actually enjoyed it more with just the romance more than I would have with a sex scene added in. Granted sex most likely ends up happening from the ending, but it fit the tone of the story better without having it described. Something else I noticed because I was listening through the playlist while I was reading is that a lot of the songs fit the story perfectly.

I also loved the scene where Anders barged in on Nathan and Elissa and he didn't catch on till the end what was going on. Reminds me of something I did with one of my old room mates once.

[Copper]

Wait... Pendergast as in Agent Pendergast? Of The Relic?

And all the stories after, yes. My ST tailored him to fit a White Wolf setting a little better, but yup. Special Agent Aloysus X.L. Pendergast. Nawlins drawl and all. And the poor bastard still doesn't quite know what hit him. First, Rin has to explain that there's a gate to the Underworld in his basement and that his house is haunted. Then she has to try and explain to him why exactly she knows this stuff (essentially explaining her Deal to him.) He got to take her to an Abyssal's lair, which pretty much put her on her ass. The two of them took a lovely stroll through M'brook's portion of the Underworld with his haunted garden and guardians and yeah.... She got to tell him that M'brook tracked down the spirit of his dead wife and bound her to Cassian to make him into a psudo-sin-eater. He gets to see the aftermath of whatever happens whenever M'brook decides to terrorize Rin. Got to have a rather unpleasant repressed memory resurfaced about what really happened to his brother. And now currently has an angel and a kitsune cuddling on the futon in his library, after seeing said angel in "battle" form. Loads of fun for a supremely rational guy.

On to Ronny's remarks...

Aye. A krewe is the term for a group of like-minded Sin-Eaters that tend to have either similar goals, geists, or just, well, get along. The Boston krewe is just pretty much one big family. Erie doesn't really have a krewe. Steph and one of the other sin-eaters get along like fire and gunpowder, she's dating one of the other ones, and Zane, well, he's a trouble magnet, but she's friends with him anyway. But they aren't really a krewe. In NY, we have a bunch of krewes. There's the Ragnarok krewe (Fen, Raven, Liz, Loki...). They're the ones Rin usually hangs with. There's the "angelic" krewe (or "happy Catholic land" as Rin has dubbed them.) There's a "demonic" krewe (the krewe leader owns a restaurant/gentleman's club, go figure.), the Dionysians (Dion and Mercy belong to them) and the Egyptians (who mostly keep to themselves.)

Funny, I didn't think the playlist would do that for you, but cool. I did kind of try and keep them in order as far as the game goes. Might have to swap out the ones that youtube took away, though. Funny that the soundtracks worked with it, too. I may have to try that. Anywhere in particular it stuck out well?

And yeah, I pulled it off of a prompt site who wanted Anders and Leli together, her being a bit shy and not having been with anyone for a very long time. The original requester also had two "bonus points," one being Anders asking Elissa if he could court Leli and the other being him interrupting Elissa and Nate in bed to talk about how much he likes Leliana. That was, though, one of my favorite scenes to write. I think I had that done before I even began the story proper *laughs* I thought about a "bedroom scene" for the story, but the more I wrote it, the more I realized it was more about the romance than the sex for the two of them and left the "invitation" open to the reader's imagination. I'm very glad you enjoyed it, though. Makes me feel warm and fuzzy :)

Also, the fact that you pulled something similar in real life has me laughing to no end. There's a story there, I'm certain.

[dmronny]

Well if Pendergast is from Nawlins what's he doing being a supremely rational person. Actually never mind even one of the loonies from Nawllins would think she was nuts.

I guess it's probably not all that weird of a choice for the term. It just seems odd to me since every time I read the word it reminds me of Mardi Gras, a krewe being the group of people who run the parades and the parties.

Yeah I don't know why it seemed to match up so well and I don't know if I could recreate it perfectly if I tried it again. I remember the Vertical Horizon song matching up well for the portion I was on at the time and a few of the other more romantic type songs just seemed to hit the right note at the right time as I was reading.

Yeah sometimes the bedroom scene fits better and sometimes it doesn't, in the case of this story I like it better when it's left to my imagination.

The real life story probably isn't as exciting as you would think, but it was pretty amusing. At least it was to me, my roommate didn't really talk to me much the rest of the week though. So I take it he didn't find it as amusing as I did.

[Copper]

Comes from being Harvard schooled, I guess. At least I think it was Harvard. Might have been Cambridge. I don't remember what he told Rin.

Well, that is sort of what a krewe is. Sin-Eaters tend to have quite a bit of celebrations, particularly things that revolve around death, the dead, etc. They have flesh faires, carnivals, Halloween, All Saint's Day, and Dia de los Muertos (probably butchered that) are big for them. Though a lot of it is more celebrating being alive than death. At least the way my ST runs it.

Glad that it managed to do so for you then, at least. And yeah, especially given the last session, the Vertical Horizon song is really perfect for Jace and Becca. I'm just glad it fit with Anders and Leli, too.

Quite. I've got another story that I wrote a long time ago that I've been heavily debating including a love scene in and I still don't know if I want to do that. Sometimes things are better left after the fact or, like we've been saying, to the imagination.

Well, I think the reader probably finds the situation more amusing than Nate did at the time *laughs* Usually the way. And at least your roomie didn't try to get back at you for it?

[dmronny]

Harvard is in Cambridge, MA unless you meant Cambridge University in the UK. Either way I think I'm going to picture the UK one in my head because I think a Nawlins accent would drive them nuts in the UK.

Yeah that probably is where they got it, since the first krewe in Mobile was actually a mystic society in the early 19th century. Bet you didn't know that Mobile was where Mardi Gras originally started in the United States. The whole celebrating death does make a good bit of sense Geist too, since that is sort of the whole idea of the game from what I know. Carnival/Mardi Gras and Dias de los Muertos are the perfect celebrations for that too. Since that's how I've always thought of them and celebrated them. A little tip to make it easier to remember all those days, All Hallows Eve (Halloween) and All Saints Day together are Dias de los Muertos, just depends on which country your in on what it's called.

Anyways like we said sometimes it works sometimes it doesn't, of course some people might like it better with the bedroom scene too. In my case I like it better this way though.

Actually he did get revenge for it, but at least it was the good natured sort of revenge.

[Copper]

With him, it could go either way... But have fun imagining!

Oh, more than likely. The Geist sourcebook has a lot of info on "death celebrations" and the like, though it's kind of amusing since krewes and sin-eaters tend to...hobble together various imagery and traditions. They have archetypes and the like, but as a community, it's very...you tend to pay lip-service to whatever tradition suits you best. You're not stuck following a particular dogma, I suppose you could say, at least when it comes to living your life. If that made *any* sense at all.

True true. I've had more than one occassion where I've done something minor/left out the "love scene" and then had people requesting "more" or "sequels" so you can actually get the characters to the sex.

At least it was good natured and not vindictive.

[dmronny]

Yeah it's actually pretty amusing either way with the accent.

Well I don't imagine I would be very dogmatic if I had already died once so it makes sense to me. I'll betcha voodoo comes up occasionally in the book since it's one of the few religions I know that treats death in that fashion, at least the good side of it does. I would imagine there can be bad sin-eaters too though so both sides would work.

[Copper]

Well, sin-eaters can make zombies. It's just how you go about making the zombie that tends to let people know what side of the coin you fall on. And as for "good" and "bad" sin-eaters, well, that's relative as well. One would think a krewe of sin-eaters with a Catholic/angelic mentality would be "good" and a Hedonistic/demonic krewe would be bad, but guess which side is allied with the Abyssal? Hoooboy. Actually, that's what Rin's about to find out next session. She's got fairly damning proof, if what she learned from one of the mages is true. She wound up trucking through an Abyssal's lair and that sort of clings to you. She picked up on it when Rafe came home from the place. One of the other sin-eaters picked up on it right away on *her* after she investigated the place and the one mage was three feet away from her in the door and went "Rin, I need to talk to you. Now." Then shunted her off to his brother to get purified. Thing was, she spent about an hour with damn near the entire Angelic krewe and not a one of them said a damn thing. So either they were being polite (doubtful, since none of them even seemed to notice. Hell, she got hugged!) or, as Dragon (the mage) explained, it's either willful ignorance or familiarity with something means it doesn't affect you.

And she offered to join the krewe so as to find out wtf they're up to. This is going to be interesting.

[dmronny]

Yeah does sound a little like voodoo when you put it that way. Making a traditional zombie as in a mindless slave is black or bad magic, whereas if the spirit/soul chooses to come back in a willing persons body it's white or good magic. So they probably did at least take some inspiration from it even if they changed it a little for the game.

I always kind of assume good or bad is relative in the world of darkness. It's like saying the Camarilla is good and the Sabbat is bad, it really depends entirely on how you look at things.

So was the abyss actually clarified in the nwod because in the owod it seemed to depend on which story line you were playing on what the abyss was. I always find it quite confusing that the Lasombra abyss seems to be completely different from the demon abyss.

Talk about liberal use of plot thickener, I need to get some of that stuff myself.

[Copper]

Magic/powers/abilities are not inheriently good or evil. It's all in how you choose to use them.

This is Demon Abyss. About...3rd edition-ish information on. The ST uses Demon, New Mage and Changeling, Geist, 3rd Edition vampire (because she thinks New Vampire sucks ass and I'm inclined to agree with just what she's told me) and we have very few Shapeshifters in our games because she doesn't like Werewolf (but there is a Kitsune running around).

Oh, honey, if this plot were any thicker, I'd need a fire axe and then a chainsaw to get through it. I could probably fill a good couple of these post windows with a summary of the Geist campaigns. And that's if I *just* do the main plot. No side stories, no rants, no nothing. I mean, there's a reason the Boston krewe has shown up in the New York game. It ties in and they just will not retire quietly. And even after this "chapter" is through, and it's supposed to be the final chapter, we then have, let's see...Xander's baby being born (Jace and Becca have been charged with keeping Dragon's mother, Pandora, away from the baby until they've given him a name. They don't want him winding up, let's see, she hadn't used Unicorn yet. And Dragon, Phoenix, and Griffin are already taken.); Anime Boston; Xander and Dragon's wedding; Jace and Becca moving into Dragon's old house; an "awkward conversation" that Becca and Jace are apparently going to have (Me, personally, I think he's either going to be questioning his sexuality [long story, that] or he cheated on her, but I have to wait and see.); and all the happy fun crap that is going to lead up to Becca and Jace's wedding with takes place next year, technically (because his is a Traditional Italian family, a Hunter clan, and pretty much royalty by way of their relationship with the church. Rafe was teasing Becca that she was going to be princessa after she gets married.) Of course, the wedding plans are always fun, because Becca is *so* not a traditionalist. She damn near had bridesmen instead of maids because that's who her best friends are. As it stands, she's still getting Cassian. In drag. Who will be escorted by Jace's cousin, Kale. Who's a woman. And will look better in the tux than Cass. Becca also keeps threatening to elope if Gabriella keeps pushing her. And she doubly threatens to have her wedding at Anime Boston if the woman keeps pushing to have it on Easter Sunday.

See? Wall o'text. And this is stuff that HASN'T EVEN HAPPENED YET.

[dmronny]

So the same two abysses I was describing then, possibly the same place though they seem to have different descriptions. Sounds a bit like my picking and choosing for what I'm using. Except I don't have any new wod stuff like Geist and most of the other possible creatures I'm just using the descriptions from the vampire point of view. I don't really like werewolf as they are presented in their own line of games either. I would have no problem with the newer vampire if they hadn't you know essentially completely dumped all the history and clans from the older vampire and just tweaked the rules to make the game better. Basically they tried to fix everything rather than just fixing the broken bits and created an entirely different game.

Well I probably won't get that complicated but I do have some twists plotted and thought out. Yeah your Geist storyteller sounds good though at least she does if it's working, but I assume it is since you're on your third game now. One question though how does a celibate hunter cheat on someone, since wouldn't that essentially make him lose his powers.

[Copper]

I'm not overly familiar with Demon and for the sake of not screwing things up with the ST, I'm avoiding leafing through the book. I'll take your word for it.

And yeah, she hates that the New Vampire has lumped clans together (essentially) and done all kinds of weird and wacky shit. Leave well enough alone. They're hundreds of years old. They don't need that kind of tweaking!

She's a fantastic ST. And the celibate Hunter isn't celibate any more. Doesn't have to be. Once his 30th birthday rolled around, he basically upgraded from his journeyman status. With that, well, the good stuff that came with it were more tattoos, empowered with the same mind-protecting abilities that his vows gave him and the freedom to pursue the fact that he didn't have to be celibate any more. The bad stuff that came with his 30th birthday were his father taking the aspects of the "graduation" ceremony literally (like, there were supposed to be symbolic bonds...Seraphino left rope burn on Jace's wrists and neck.); finding out that the man he thought was his father *wasn't* his father and that his father is actually a Fae Lord; and watching his mother get turned into a hind because she broke her vow to Jareth that his son would come to no harm. Cue Wild Hunt. Cue Seraphino going after Jareth. *sigh* Cue Raphael being named successor because both the Lord and Lady of the house perished that night.

Still, the trip to Italy was interesting. Becca got to meet the "black sheep" of the family (whom she fell into and got along swimmingly with). She did nearly get choked by Seraphino (who was trying to 'thin the herd' of potential brides for Jace) but she got out of it. She got to meet Kale, the demon-hunter that's now training my other sin-eater, Steph (a sin-eater demon-hunter...hoooboy.) And then there was the fencing match. *grins*

One of Jace's "cousins" (family that big, as he puts it, "If they're older than you, they're an 'aunt' or 'uncle.' If they're the same age as you, they're a 'cousin.'") found Becca out in the fencing yard, going through a few drills. He offered to partner with her. Now, this boy is all swagger and cocksure and they're fairly certain he *doesn't* take the vow of chastity seriously. Not to mention he showed up at Becca's door at, like, one in the morning, trying to get into her room so that he could "come in and introduce himself." She promptly told him to do so in the morning and shut the door in his face (and locked it.) So he starts toying with her, because she's just a girl. And Becca realizes this. So she starts toying back, feinting losing to him. And then, she subtly starts to shift tactics, going on the offensive. And picking up the speed of her strikes, not to mention the finesse behind them. Because Becca's been training with Dragon, who is a fencing *champion* and the only man to beat Jace's mentor. And it gets to the point that they have to separate the two of them because it's turned into a full on battle that the other fencers have stopped to watch. And the only reason Becca didn't finish beating his ass was because she got the announcement that Jace was back from the ceremony he'd been in since the day before. And then the jackass tried to ambush her on the running trail when she was out the next morning. Not to mention she gets woken up in the middle of the night that night to the sound of him and Rafe fighting in the hallway. She grabs one of the swords out of the room, goes out into the hallway and whistles loud enough to get the to of them to stop. "Allright, who started it?" "He did!" (both at the same time) "There's only one of you I like at the moment and I'm more inclined to believe him, so unless you want to deal with the business end of this thing, go back to your room!" Cousin slinks off. "Rafe, what did you do?" "Well, he came up and tried to start shit, particularly calling my sexuality into question." "You should have kissed him." "Why do you think he hit me?" "*shove* Go back to bed."

As a side note, after yet another wall o' text (I told you I could do it!), I actually have two rather good stories (in my opinion, but then, they're my stories) about Becca and Jace "after Italy" as we put it. The one's the Epilogue to the game and the other is the "EpiEpilogue." Both go into their relationship now that Jace is freed from his vows. It might also be worth mentioning that while Jace has recently turned 30, Becca has recently turned 24. It's not a huge gap, but she is younger than him. Seems to be a running theme with the ST and me. Matt and Julian are about nine-ish years apart, Steph is 27 and her girlfriend, Micah, is not long out of college, and then there's Rin and Pendergast. ST tweaked him to be in his 30's. Rin is 22. Actually, the only one that's had issue with the situation is Steph, given that she knew Micah growing up and she also is best friends with Micah's dad. Talking with Matt helped her out a bit and it was something of a "Y'know what, if you're willing to give this a try, so am I, kid." "Y'know, it's really creepy when you call me 'kid.'" "At least I don't do it in bed." *gets swatted*

[dmronny]

Apparently it gets even worse since I found out last night that there's also an Umbral realm known as the Abyss for Werewolf, which sounds very different from the other two. Oh well, not like I haven't been confused before.

Yeah minor rule changes would have been fine but quit trying to reinvent the wheel. That goes for you too WoTC.

Yeah sounds like a fantastic storyteller to me, especially considering how far you've apparently got into the games. It would have taken me far to long to do that much, probably why I've never finished a game despite planning that far ahead. I tend to get sucked into the little details too much and forget the big picture I was aiming for. And I gotcha, if I knew anything about Hunter's I probably wouldn't have asked.

Yes that's how bigger families tend to do it when it comes to cousins and aunts and uncles. It can get annoying though when every single girl in an area is somehow related to you. (What do ya mean she's my third cousin once removed or better yet what's a third cousin once removed.) And there's nothing wrong with a 30ish year old male and a 22ish year old girl, either that or I'm a weirdo or most likely there's nothing wrong and I'm a weirdo.

[Copper]

Ohyeah, I remember that realm. Vaguely. We never really did too much Werewolf. And when we did, I was playing a Mage...

Lots of not-broken things get tweaked quite a bit around the gaming community. Makes me a not happy camper sometimes, but if you don't mix things up, you don't sell books; you don't sell books, you don't make money...

Yeah. This is our third Geist game, pretty much in a row. After this, she's taking a break and I'm teaching her how to play D&D. Going to be interesting, that, I think. But yeah, Becca and her krewe are still going, Steph and that bunch crop up now and again, and Rin's the current game. Just had a milestone tonight that I'm a little jazzed about. Rin not only managed to protect her friend, Seth, who happens to be an angel (easiest way to explain him.) but in doing so and getting him to serve Rafe, she just convinced AN ANGEL to serve the CATHOLIC Hunters. Rafe now has a literal angel on his side to basically shut up all the traditionalist and nay-sayers in the family that think he's a fuck-up because he's trying to modernize their ways (and, well, they also hate him because he's gay, but that's all Cassian's fault *rolls eyes*) "So, yeah, Copper, next time you get crazy ideas, try not to have ones that'll shift the balance of power in the game, would you?" *halo* "But, you get bonus xps for solving one of Rafe's big problems for him." "Sweet! And I didn't even do that on purpose!" "I know, which is why you get the bonus xps."

[dmronny]

True but it doesn't mean I can't whine about it on occasion, I can't really blame them for wanting to make money but it still drives me nuts.

Hey bonus experience is always nice, especially accidental bonus experience that completely shifts the power balance in a game. Also did you mean it's Cassian's fault that Rafe is gay or is it Cassian's fault that they hate Rafe.

[Copper]

*scrolls back through to see if Cass and Rafe have been explained*

It's in the soundtrack section, but I'll sum up here: Cass and Rafe are fetches (clones) of Julian and Jace respectively, created by M'Brook/Diogenes, to, firstly, fool the others so they wouldn't notice the two of them were gone so he could use the originals in a ritual to create his own little slice of the Underworld, and two, to provide Seraphino with a "worthy heir" that was more his son than Jace was (because Seraphino found out Jace was actually *Jareth's* son and, yeah, that's a long story.) But because Diogenes is a twisted SOB that likes fucking with people, he used half of the same diamond to create their hearts, so they are, literally, each a half of a whole and as such, are compelled to be together. Becca finds this insanely amusing because part of the reason Seraphino wanted a "more worthy heir" was not just because Jace wasn't his son, but also because he thought Jace was gay. So the "son" that he named heir and is supposed to carry on the family...is really the gay one. Again, Becca finds that the biggest piece of poetic justice EVER. And because Rafe is Seraphino's son and the heir and their new leader and all that, he can't *possibly* have been gay from the get so, so it *has* to be Cassian's fault for corrupting him. *collective rolling of eyes between Becca, Cass, Julian and the sane members of the family*

[dmronny]

Oh okay yeah I gotcha now, sorry the names start to blur together after a while though from the sound of it calling anyone sane may be a stretch. I think less insane would be more appropriate.

[Copper]

By sane, I'm referring to the ones that don't see Cass and Rafe as abominations against God and man simply because they (really and truly) can't help being how they are.

But hey, now we've got an angel. *swats Cass away from the keyboard*

[Copper]

Wow, it's been a while since I've posted here, but I'm bored, in a mood, and want to share writing. One of the latest pieces that I did was the afterparty of the most recent White Wolf game that the aforementioned ST, myself, and my cousin were playing in.

First, a little back-story (which is likely going to become story all it's own...) My two characters, Steph (a sin-eater) and Davin (a newly Awakened mage), along with Steph's girlfriend, Micah, and their friend, Case (played by my cousin, another sin-eater) go to this circus that's run by the Sabbat. The three sin-eaters notice the massive amount of vampires around, but don't think anything of it, too much, anyway. Davin, on the other hand, goes through his Awakening *at* the circus. In the course of it, he frees the angel that the Ringmaster has been keeping prisoner for odd-on at least 30 years or so. Over the course of the game, he and said angel, Ishiah, wind up bound to one another. And of course, the Ringmaster wants his property back, but Davin's not about to turn Ish over again. One of the reasons that Davin's able to keep Ish away from the Ringmaster is that during his Awakening, he was able to rewrite a part of Ish's True Name. And the Ringmaster knew it, or at least knew that Davin knew the syllable that he needed. So Davin shows back up at his apartment to find Ish in his room, basically paralyzed by the Ringmaster. He can't order him around, but he can 'turn him off' so to speak. While he's calling Steph, Kale, Case, and Micah, the Ringmaster and his ghoul drag in one of his floormates, Cody, and the Ringmaster threatens to kill him if Davin won't give up the name. Thing is, Davin won't. There is nothing that the Ringmaster could do that would make him give it up. So Davin fights with the ghoul to try and save Cody but the bitch ends up snapping Cody's neck. This is when I score about 8 successes to throw her knife at her as she's retreating out of the apartment. Unfortunately, there's nothing that can be done for Cody, save a coverup as a random act of violence. The ghoul winds up "hanging herself" in her holding cell, courtesy of the local vampires.

Meanwhile, because the Ringmaster doesn't have Ishiah for the vinculium (Sabbat blood orgy...slight emphasis on the orgy part...another reason why Davin won't turn Ish over again), he needs a substitute, so he kidnaps one of the local mages who fried some of his people when they went to steal books from him. Steph and Case were actually there, but they left before all the bad shit went down. Unfortunately, the ST's other two players (who were playing Vamps) stuck around, videotaped the beating/gangrape of said mage, and then they take it to show the priest that they know, Kale. Steph gets a phone call at 4 in the morning asking her to come to the church NOW. Turns out, the mage was Kale's brother, whom everyone thought was dead, and the vampires basically derailed our game, because we were only supposed to kidnap one of the Sabbat pack. Unfortunately, with what they did to Xavier, it turned into a matter of vengeance. Long story short, we call down the thunder (pretty much all of the Boston krewe, an archmagus, Rin, and three out of town Hunters) and lay waste to the Sabbat pack, except that the Ringmaster managed to get clear, which was what enabled him to find and threaten Davin with the whole bit with Cody.

Long story short again, we make it so he's out of options and we pretty much hunt him down using magic to his daytime resting place, which happens to be a cistern out in a grape field. One of the local mages seals it shut while Davin shunts electricity from Steph's car battery to the metal cistern (that has water in the bottom. Did I mention that?). I think I got 9 successes to electrocute the bastard. So we haul him out, Steph cremates him, and they take the ashes to the local Prince because it was pretty much open season on this guy among the local vampires. We just got to him first.

So now that he's dead, there are no more Sabbat running around, at least to threaten us for a while, we decide to have a victory celebration. Sin-eater style. So I wrote it up.

Quick rundown, for those of you just joining this little party or who need a refresher: Matt and Julian are part of the Boston krewe and a couple. Matt and Steph also tend to get along very well, for some odd reason, and Julian and Steph have a playfully antagonistic relationship. Micah is Steph's girlfriend, and they've been dating for a bit now. Kale is Steph's mentor, a demon hunter, and also a Catholic priest. The name doesn't lend well to telling, but Kale is also a woman. With a longer backstory than I want to get into. Loki is a nekomata (cat-boy) that escaped from the Ringmaster's circus before all the shit went down and because Steph and Micah had treated him more like a person than a freak, he found them and has been living with them through the course of the game. Oh yes, and Magnus is the local mage mentioned above. He's the one that alternately looks out for Davin but also wouldn't mind seeing him get into a good amount of trouble, so long as nobody got hurt. He's also rather flamboyant and rather gay (though not flamboyantly gay.) Inari and Shirei are kitsune (or 'the foxes' in the story). Davin is there, but Steph calls him 'Morgan' (It's a mage thing.) Vivian is the aforementioned archmagus. Jace and Becca cameo, but they go off and have their own celebration. And the Zone is the local gay bar. I think that's about everyone. Any questions, just ask after the story.

Hope you enjoy.

[Copper]

I'm still trying to figure out how I wound up making out with Julian.

Granted, at one of our parties, just about anything goes: we've tossed four mages into the mix, Inari and Shirei, Loki, Kale, and Jace. At the Zone.

Julian and Magnus vying for alpha status was fun to watch. Thankfully, they weren't nearly as bad as Vivian and Krystal, but it was fun seeing who could command the greater presence. Mags won, but I think that was only because Jules kicked it down a notch.

Then, of course, I had to taunt Kale, which got me dragged to the dance floor. Protests aside, it was...fun. And I swear, if the boss weren't a priest, well, let's just say she might be giving Micah a run for her money. Damn.

Course, doesn't help that she kissed me, either. Little les-be-friends wouldn't leave her alone, so Kale showed her exactly what she'd be in for. Micah was just icing on the cake. Thought the little nit was going to swallow her tongue.

Speaking of Micah, swear she's danced with everyone but me. Dragged Morgan out. Stole Matt's hat and disappeared. Caught the fox's attention. After that it was Loki. And just a bit ago it was her and Julian. And watching two people with a lust for life just abandon it all on the dance floor...I swear, I was staring right at them and Jules still managed to drop into my lap without my realizing it.

"Somebody likes what she sees." Arms snaked around my neck and I could feel his breath against my ear.

"What can I say? I have a hot girlfriend."

He draws back enough that I can see the pout. "You weren't watching me? At all?"

That gets him a nuzzle. "I was watching you two move. Together." I drop the tone of the last word enough to make it throaty.

"Some things are just better with a partner."

You can say that again. But then, here's poor me, sitting here, all alone."

"Not a fan of just watching?" His head cants to the side just so, eyes lidding just enough, and I feel the weight of him straddling my thighs, close enough to be just on the edge of indecent. Such a little cocktease.

My hands slide along his arms and skim down his back, hitting his hips and pulling him that last inch closer. There's a very brief flutter of his eyes and I catch a hitch at my growl of "Not when it's something of mine."

"Funny," comes out on a breath, "I don't remember being in that category."

"Proxy." I let a hand slide up his back this time, fingers skimming through hair that's just long enough. "Micah and I have an agreement. And she's already had her time."

"This you asking me to dance, Steph?" A smirk plays over his lips.

"Thought we were doing that already." I lean close and just graze teeth against his lower lip.

"Question is, who's leading?"

"Mmm." I let my fingers tighten just a little, watching that flutter again. "Am I being too subtle?"

His throat bobs once. "Oh, I think I get it," he breathes out.

"And getting it is the aim, no?" I don't give him the opportunity to answer, bringing lips to his, parted enough that we start dueling tongues almost immediately.

Jules tastes different than Micah. He's almost...sweeter. That sugary dessert you shouldn't have but do anyway. Liquor and old cigarettes, decadent sin, and one flavor I know well: abandon. That I've tasted in Micah's kisses, especially on the nights when it's been her and I and she needs to feel me to remember that she's really here. Nights when I let lips and fingertips cover every inch of patchwork skin, finding again and again the spots that make her wriggle and mewl, watching her or holding her as I make her world shatter into those uncountable ribbons of pleasure, only to have her be wrapped up in them again and again.

It isn't until I hear "You two gonna come up for air?" in that laughing accent that I remember there's a world outside of the boy in my arms.

Nuzzling into the crook of Julian's throat, I grin over at Matt. "Don't have to if I use my caul properly."

He rolls his eyes at the grin I flash him. "That's cheating."

"No, that's why I have a happy girlfriend."

"What about a happy girlfriend?" Micah plops herself down into Matt's lap. And promptly steals his hat for her own head.

Dammit, I just got that back." There's no anger in his grouse.

"Don't worry, you can earn it back." Micah grins at him.

"Uh oh," I tease. "Earn. She must want something out of you."

"Me? What could that possibly be? Especially when she has you?"

"Yes, but I'm occupied." I nibble on Julian's ear and he purrs. "I have a kitty."

"What about a kitty?" As if on cue, there's Loki behind my chair.

I reach up and around, skimming a hand at the small of his back, as much as I can reach anyway.

Watching him and Julian dance had been an experience. Both lithe creatures, both capable of feeling the music, and both shameless in their actions. Not quite as well as with Cassian, but they played each other well.

The rivalry continues, too, since I have Julian purring in my lap and not Loki. Of course, I've learned a few places on our newest edition to make him rumble, even when we're not being intimate.

Such the sight I'm sure we make. Even moreso as we begin to stumble out of the bar. Julian hangs on me, Micah's draped on Matt (still in his hat, too) and Loki's trailing along behind. Though they're hidden, I can imagine his ears perked and the lash of his tail as he walks.

The Sheraton is a fairly straight shot from where we're at and the elevator ride is an exercise in teasing restraint. Once we crest the door, nearly all bets are off.

Funny thing is, we start the dance again in the bedroom. Micah, Loki, and I are partners. Matt and Julian are partners. And now we're all looking to dance together.

"Julian's sweet," I whisper to Micah, having watched their little courtship already tonight.

"Is he now?" She pins him between her and Matt, actually bowing into a kiss with him, a very faint groan sounding from both of them.

Loki curls into me as I watch, his fingers and lips starting to dust along my bare skin, knowing the mood I'm already in. From the corner of my eye, I can see him watching Matt, gauging his reaction to all this.

Favorable, if the fact that he's bracing Julian is any indication. Of course, drifting down to nibble on him while Micah's still kissing could be a good sign, too, but you never know.

Loki's nip reminds me that I've been ignoring him in favor of the show. I make it up with kisses and nuzzles, letting my fingers trail through the fur at his back, moving from lower to nape and back again, feeling him tense a little with a soft hiss. He rolls flush against me, fingers working to undo the clasps that run down my back, his teeth grazing light at my collarbone as he does so.

Julian, meanwhile, is still submitting to his partners, arms raised as Matt skims off his shirt, dropping them back to hook around the other's neck as Micah dips down and divests him of those painted-on pants. What little he left to the imagination doesn't disappoint when the illusion is unraveled.

My fingers slide into Loki's hair as I feel the scrape of his tongue sliding against tensing skin. In turn, Matt's looking down the body of his lover as mine teases up his legs with little nips.

A little tug brings the neko even with me again and I let blunt nails drag down the nylon of his shirt, skimming back and forth at his waist as I slip behind him. I can feel the light lash of his tail against my leg and he presses back into me as I drop my palm lower, skimming over the zipper of his jeans.

"Whose lips do you want, tomcat?" I tease. "Mine, hers," I lock eyes with Matt, dropping them lower, "or his?"

[Copper]

Loki wriggles in my hold until his tail's snaked between us, using that to grind back against me. "Something tells me I know which you want."

He knows I won't push, though. If it's not something he's comfortable with, I'll change the tune. Given the way Julian's grinning at Matt's whispers, though, there won't be any protesting from that end. None from Matt, either, given he's the one encouraging it.

"You want me to?" His head tips back, resting against my shoulder.

"I'll make it worth your while later."

He lets a purr rumble against me. "You'd best do something about Micah, then."

Both of us slip over to the other three and I watch our kitten catch Julian's chin and cut off whatever he was saying with a commanding kiss. Once he starts nipping at his lips, Julian forgets the rest of us are here, which was fine with me.

"Hello, gorgeous." My arms slip around Micah's waist and our lips meet. "Miss me?"

"Oh, I had a nice distraction."

"Let's make a nicer one." I start seeking out the clasps that are holding her dress fast. While I'm doing that, I feel hands skimming up and down my back that are too wide at the palm to be hers. Leaning back, I brace against Matt's chest, rewarded as those hands slip around to my front.

While I'm rolling my hips back against his, Micah's wriggling out of her dress. Hooking a finger under a bra strap, I pull her in for a kiss while my fingers work on getting that garment off, too.

"You learning a thing or two from Jules?" Matt groans in my ear as I plant a hand on his hip and grind back.

"Not one for taking your time?"

Micah slides her arms over both our shoulders and I'm moving against both of them now. She also brushes a kiss past my lips to keep Matt from answering the question. "Aussie's got too many clothes," she says when they part.

Said Aussie is easy enough to strip, though, with how loose his clothes are, not to mention I have Micah helping me. This works well when Matt decides he wants to peel me out of my pants. As he goes down, Micah pulls his shirt off. This is a lovely win, ladies and gents.

When he stands back up, I let my fingers dust over his shoulder, leaning in and laying a kiss over the rough skin there. It's funny how different we are and yet are so alike. This reminds me of that.

"C'mon," sounds softly in my ear before a hand turns me up to meet a pair of lips. "Better places for you to use those, hey?"

A kiss that seems a long time coming holds me until we need to part for air. Sun and passion linger from kisses that have a different sort of heat to them. As we draw back, I snag the band in his hair and he stills until I tug it loose, letting the strands fall through my fingers, landing against tanned skin.

I feel Micah at my back, now as nude as I am, catching me between the two of them again. This. This is my favorite type of warmth. Skin on skin as the want of your partner starts to build.

"Take me to bed," tickles over the shell of my ear and I see Matt's brows arch at the shudder. I take a step back, fingertips trailing down his arm, fingers twining together as I tug him along with us.

Of course, we're sharing space with Julian and Loki, but the bed is accommodating enough that we don't interrupt. Micah crawls back to the nest of pillows reaching out to brush back Loki's hair. His fingers are threaded in Julian's locks, those bright eyes of his pinched shut as groans and mewls of pleasure roll from his throat, coaxed forth with each slide of the other man's lips. The pleasure both of them are in is beautifully obvious, enough that I feel something coiling tight inside me.

Sharing a look with Micah across the bed, I'm rewarded with a teasing smile from her and she crooks a finger, a summons I readily answer.

"Did you grab--" I watch her drop a strip of silver onto the night stand. "Clever little pickpocket." I grin.

"No interruptions, right?" She grins back.

"None." Taking a brief second, I 'cheat' as Matt put it, becoming a little closer to the ghost inside of me.

Micah gets a hungry kiss before I start working my lips downward, her body slouching to accommodate the soon to be new position. When I'm at her stomach, though, I feel hands around me, urging me up. Matt's getting growled at, though softly.

"Can you take her on your back?" He nuzzles close to my ear, hands skimming breasts and stomach.

"Maybe," I tease, pressing back against him. "Why?"

His hand dips lower, the brush making me hiss. "Because you're not the only one who wants a taste." The flicks that follow are a good distraction, enough to get me to nod.

She and I swap positions, with me settling to brace her around my head and shoulders. A pillow gives me the height I need an I'm rewarded with a hiss after the first brush of my tongue.

As I tend to Micah, I feel the skim of hands guiding my knees and thighs apart, lips kissing their way along the inside of them as I crook them up to give my other partner room. I can feel his breath against me and feel myself holding one as well, unnecessary but instinctive.

The three of us groan nearly together at the first swipe and very soon it becomes an exercise in concentration. Matt's strokes and suckles have me moaning, which rumbles against Micah while my own lips pull and tease between her legs. It's a careful dance we're playing at, taking care to keep our steps in time.

Beside me, I hear a hiss, not quite of pleasure, and "Julian," moaned out, along with a "Damn it."

"Shhh. Trust me."

A beg now, not something I'm used to from Loki. "Julian, please, I'm so close."

Hearing the want in his voice makes my own muscles coil again, making me even more sensitive to Matt's attention. And with me moaning even more, Micah is definitely enjoying the extra attention. I can hear it in her own cries. Beyond that, more whimpers from Loki and another plea not to tease. Seems Matt's listening to him, picking up what he's doing, growing firmer in his suckles and circles.

"Julian!"

"Ohgod, Steph!"

Hearing the two of them, I realize Julian's game. I let out a throaty moan of my own, encouraging Matt with the sound.

No surprise that Loki comes first, that touch of a yowl defining his pleasure at finally finding his release. The sound runs through me, adding to the shudders that come as my own body gives over to my pleasure. Fingers dig into Micah's legs, as though I could pull her closer, swirling and wriggling my tongue to bring her over on the tails of my own orgasm.

I continue to stroke at her shivering muscles until she shifts enough that I know she wants to draw away. As she collapses between me and Loki, Matt stretches out beside me, nuzzling into my neck.
"Well-played, Jules," I get out when I remember how to talk. I can hear him laugh at that. Loki growls, but is silenced as Micah curls against him, fingers soothing through his hair.

"You were gorgeous to watch," she coos to him, making him purr at least.

"Someone wasn't distracted enough, then." I spider fingers up her back and she squeaks. Bringing the same hand around over my head some, I comb through Matt's hair. "Thank you."

He chuckles. "He's not the only gorgeous one in the bed." I feel his cheek tip up, nuzzling my palm.

"Yeah. Micah's here, too."

"Flatterer." She grinds hips back against me but is still paying more attention to Loki.

"And here I am. Forgotten." Julian's looking at Matt and me over the other two, violet eyes sparkling with mirth and desire.

"Mmm, yeah. Such a performance shouldn't go unrewarded." I grind back into Matt, as there's another I know needs tended to.

When Julian lets out a purr, I realize Micah isn't petting just Loki any longer. She and he manage to trade places with a few teasing steps along the way and I watch those amethysts flutter under her hands.

Loki curls to me and between him and Matt, my hands have no shortage of skin to explore. And while Loki's attentions are lazy, Matt's are gently becoming insistent.

"Grab a packet. Two," I murmur to him.

He gropes on the table and comes back with two squares. I reach over Loki and press one into Micah's hand, then twist around, urging Matt onto his back. Loki's fingers dance over my skin while I roll the cover down along Matt's length, careful not to tease too much, given how tense he already feels.

"Figured you'd like being on top." He grins at me.

"Thought you'd appreciate me doing all the work." Straddling his thighs, I shift my hips enough to slide against him, watching his head tip back and his throat bob with a moan. Leaning down, I give his Adam's apple a little nip.

His fingers slide into my hair, keeping me close as my hips move, finding where I can ease down around him. The pinch of his eyes, followed by lips parted in a groan, is utterly gorgeous.

I'm allowed to set the rhythm, keeping it slow at first, wanting to draw this out between us. Slowly, he lets me ease up, hands on his chest while my hips grind down into his.

Warmth at my back and I feel Loki's arms slip around me, teeth grazing at my neck while his hands knead at my breasts. I feel Matt's hands clench at my thighs as he watches the two of us.

One of Loki's hands drifts lower, but a whispered "Not yet" has him back up, kneading again and scratching over my nipples and stomach. His hands drift around and drag up my back, hard enough I know he's leaving lines.

Given that I moan instead of hiss, I feel the grip on my legs tighten, nails dragging there, too. I buck when he reaches my knees.

"Like a bit of that, do you?"

Loki scrapes one finger up my arm, then across my shoulders, all of his claws then moving down my spine, giving Matt his answer in a moan and with a nod.

[Copper]

"You trust me?" I feel palms skimming my thighs now.

I lock eyes with him, nodding slow. "Yeah."

And suddenly the hands aren't so smooth anymore. I hear a chime as his fingers move and very fine points scrape down my leg. After that, one of those golden claws comes up, etching light across my stomach.

"You're going to give Loki a run for his money."

"Don't know about that. Besides, wouldn't it be better if we weren't competing?"

Cat claws drag up my arms, golden ones along the length of my thighs, both making me shiver. The nip I feel at my shoulder from Loki's teeth makes me jump, which bucks my hips for Matt.

The two of them are merciless. Claws and teeth graze along my skin just shy of bruising, red lines blossoming shortly after the pass of a hand. With Loki's help, Matt sits up, my legs still straddling his, still with him buried inside of me. Except now he can join Loki in nibbling at my ears, my neck, my shoulders.

At some point, while he's kissing me, there's a poke at one of my nipples, which makes me groan against his lips. I can feel the tip of a claw circling around it, the sensation dragging shivers along my spine. Just as I settle into familiarity with that, there's a pinch that has me gripping at his back, my own bowing as a squeal pulls from my throat. It makes me fall back against Loki, who soothes at my shoulders while I come down from that.

Before I can fully catch my breath, I feel it again, this time joined by Loki's fingers around the other one. My hands flail out, gripping at Matt's arms, anything solid to bring me back to reality. It doesn't last long. Loki pulls me back against him, teeth nipping at my throat, fingers still tweaking the nub between them. Given the groans I hear from Matt, the feeling has me rolling my hips again.

There's the scratch of his hands along my arms and I feel fingers and claws wrap around my wrists. He pulls my arms up, circling both with one hand while the other comes down to brush along my cheek. If I try to pull, it'll hurt. I know it. But I can't help but do it anyway, given my reactions to Loki's teasing.

Matt's watching my face now, the very tip of a claw tracing down my chest. The pain grows between my breasts, that sting of a thin cut that barely draws blood. I can feel my eyes pinch, but I keep watching him, daring him to do more. The tip circles around my navel, tickling there with a scrape, and keeps going lower. That's a pain I don't know if I can handle. Eyes slipping closed, I wait for it, body tense despite what Loki's doing.

Instead of metal, I feel skin, the brush of a thumb against the inside of my wrists. He starts to tease as he can reach, the pleasant sensations from below washing through me as a counter to the pain at my chest.

After a few heartbeats, he and Loki trade tasks. My arms tumble around his shoulders as Loki's dip below my waist. Matt teases and pinches while my hips start to move against his again.

It isn't long before I feel my muscles tense around him, his motions growing erratic. Right on the edge, I groan out a "Yes!" before I feel myself tumbling over, clinging to him as I can while both of us ride the pleasure that catches him up as well.

Resting my head on his shoulder, I let my lips brush at his throat, content noises slipping free while we catch our breath. Turning to look, I see Micah and Julian spooned together, lazily teasing one another while they've obviously been watching the three of us.

Boneless, we settle to the bed, Micah getting a kiss, which gets me a purr. Julian catches Matt's hand and kisses the palm of it. As I feel Loki settling behind me, I roll and cuddle with him, my fingers causing him to purr as they brush up and down his back.

"There's a joke to be made there," murmurs Julian.

"So go ahead and say it."

"Nah. I'm more mature than that."

Snorts all around. "Just spit it out, Jules."

"Well, there's a vibrator comment to be made in there somewhere, I just know it."

I flash him a smile over my shoulder. "Honey, you have no idea."

"Oh, really?" He sounds more awake now.

"Mmhmm."

Micah lets out a bit of a noise as Julian insists on changing places with her and I find myself sandwiched again. Loki continues to purr and I can feel him brushing against me.

"I did promise you, didn't I?" I murmur to him.

"You up for it?"

"Always for you."

He purrs again and I find myself urged onto my stomach. Given the extras, Loki's a little more comfortable this way. Matt passes him a packet before rolling off the bed to pad around to Micah's side.

I flash Julian a toothy smile. "You just gonna watch?" I conclude by snapping my teeth at him.

"Depends on if there's something in it for me."

Pushing myself up, Loki and I move back a little. "You'll just have to take that chance, won't you?"

I let Loki guide me to hands and knees, though I keep propped up, watching Julian. Challenging him. As Loki starts to brush against me, my eyes flutter, tongue dragging over my teeth as my lips pull back in a wide smile.

There's a tug in my hair and I find myself looking up at Julian. He's gauging me. Testing. The look he gets back is far from submissive, despite my position. I let a groan rumble against my lips, smirk telling him that he's only wasting time.

And just like that, he's on his knees in front of me. Flashing him a grin, I take him in without hesitation, as deep as I can manage without changing the angle. Given I moan when I do it, he tips his head back and lets out a cry of his own.

The three of us find a rhythm, mostly with my relaxing between the two of them, giving up control for the moment and letting both find their own pleasure. The moans from Loki's thrusts making Julian twitch and the bobs from him which would push me back into the neko.

Nails curling into my hip herald Loki's release and I add a grind to the push of my hips to help urge him over. Julian's taking a bit longer, so I change angles again, taking him deep and sucking on him as much and as hard as I can. Still wanting as Loki finishes, my groan at his withdrawal is changed to a moan as he uses fingers now instead. It doesn't take long from there, given how worked up I was already. And between the moans from that and my attention, I'm soon swallowing Julian down while I feel him twitching against my lips.

We're all spilled onto the bed again after that. Matt cuddles with Micah, who pillows Loki. He and I are back to back and Julian snuggles into my arms with a yawn. Someone manages to find covers and we tangle up in them as much as each other's limbs. Promises and threats of more to come banter around, but we don't truly settle until Micah jokingly murmurs out "Night, John-boy."

"G'night, Sam. G'night, Ralph," comes from me.

"Did someone remember to put the cat out? Ow! Hey!" Julian.

"Try it, asshole," Loki growls, but there's no real malice in it.

"You kids pipe down and go to bed," finally comes from Matt, making us laugh.

True good nights float about the bed, including some kisses and hugs. Very sated, I settle to sleep, though an unknown amount of time later, I feel the bed shift enough to rouse me. Untangling myself from Julian and Loki, I push up, looking around to find Matt padding across the floor.

"You okay?" I call softly.

"Yeah." He turns and flashes me a grin. "Thought I'd grab a shower while I still could."

"Mmm. Good idea." Carefully maneuvering between bodies, I ease off the foot of the bed and pad over to join him. "I enjoyed last night."

His eyes skim over me, lingering in places I know I have marks. His hand comes up and he brushes a knuckle down the center of my chest. "I did, too."

Smiling at him, I turn to glance at our lovers, still nestled in the bed. "I never did properly thank you."

"For what?"

"Micah. Just--"

"Nah, Steph. You didn't need me for that. From what I heard, all you needed was fae liquor and Vivian."

I bap him with the back of my hand. "You know what I mean."

He smiles. "Yeah, I do."

Looking at him, I find myself twitching for something to play between my fingers instead of my impulse to reach out to him. "You know, Micah and I have an agreement."

"Yeah? What's that?"

"It's not cheating if the other's in the bed, too."

He cocks his head a little to the side. "Interesting agreement."

"Yeah. It's worked out pretty good."

"But?"

My fingers slide into his hair, pulling him to me in a kiss that's as much want as it is warmth. "I love her," I whisper when we part. "I love her with all of my heart and soul. And I know you love Julian just as much."

"And if she loves you, she'll understand."

I glance back to the end table across the room. He turns me back, laying another kiss against my lips.

"I'll behave. I promise."

And I know I can trust him to do that. So I let him tug me over to the couch, the two of us stretching out with him on top of me. This time, when I start kissing at his scars, he doesn't tell me to stop. He does draw away enough, though, to lay kisses on each of my snowflakes.

I fight to keep my voice down, not wanting to wake any of the other three, but it's hard. I want him to know how good it feels to have him inside of me, to feel him moving with me. We're a good fit, he and I. So many differences and yet, so alike. This moment changes nothing between us and at the same time, confirms everything that he and I feel.

He takes things slow, his motions easy. It gives us plenty of time to touch and tease, fingers tracing body lines or threading into hair. The tension builds, but there's no urgency to it.

"I'm close," I hear murmured in my ear, feeling him shift to pull away.

For an instant, my legs tighten, keeping us together. My arms wrap around him and I turn, pressing a kiss to his lips. Just as I trust him to stop, I trust him enough to have him not. But promises are made and neither of us likes breaking them.

I press my fist to my lips, muffing the whine I can't help as he pulls away. He picks up his attention immediately with his fingers, but for a brief instant, my body protests that it's not the same, not until he starts making me twinge again. And he's tall enough to lean over me again, muffling my groans with his kisses, especially as they grow higher along with the tension.

It breaks as my back arcs and I pull away to bury my face against his neck. Words soothe as he eases me down, my breath slowing as the world comes into focus again, framed by strands of caramel hair.

"Your turn," I whisper, urging him to trade places with me on the couch. Once he's on his back, I start kissing my way down, taking moments to tease at his nipples or the line of a scar I hadn't noticed before. By the time my lips are around him, he's beyond tense.

It's so tempting to tease. To play and suck and stroke to draw this out as long as I'm able. But he's so close and there was none of that when he was tending to me. Instead, I work my hand against him, moving in time with the bob of my lips. I tease my tongue at the slit, swirling around before going down on him again. Lips tight, I moan down his length as I take him in. It's as I'm pulling back, doing the same, that I feel the twitch that heralds his release and I don't stop until I coax every last bit from him.

His hand at my arm urges me up and I carefully stretch out on top of him. Fingers lazily tickle over my back while my own tangle into his hair.

"Shower?"

"Mmm, I can wait. Go ahead." I pick my head up and smile at him. "That bed's looking comfy again."

He laughs. "All right."

We don't move, though, not for several more minutes. Eventually, we part and I crawl back into bed, settling behind Micah. She stirs a little and rolls to nuzzle against me.

"Love you, beautiful," I whisper, watching her smile.

"Love you, too," she mumbles out. "Always."

I smile, too, and kiss the top of her head. "Always," I echo before drifting off again.

[Copper]

Been a while since I've updated in here and since my one game is gearing up for a major plot, figured I'd work in the beginnings of another soundtrack to it, courtesy of Rin, of course.

The (short as I can make it) background to the situation is that the Hunters in the game are divided into two factions: The Traditionalists, who are grounded in Italy, and are lead by Gabriella, who believe in traditional Catholic values and if something is not 100% human, it needs to die. This includes vampires, shifters, mages, and if they knew more about them, sin-eaters. Fae are all right, though, because the families have close ties with them. The other faction are Progressives, headquartered in NYC, lead by Raphael (who, himself is a fetch (clone) of Jace. For more on this, see earlier posts.) They have more of a "let the peaceful ones alone" policy because they feel throwing yourself at every abomination is part of the reason why the Hunters are getting killed off faster than they can breed more baby Hunters. Going after the vampire that's racking up a body count is fine. Going after the mage that just wants to finish grad school is excessive. And because certain higher members of the family don't think that this division is wise, it sparks a civil war between them. Not to mention the fact that, in addition to being one of the abominations they're supposed to be hunting (not that 99.9% of the Hunters know this), Raphel is also married to his lover, Cassian, which the family is royally torqued about. So Gabriella decides to take matters into her own hands and makes the first strike: attempting to assassinate Rafe, Cass, Jace, Becca, and Kale, the upper echelons of the Progressives. She fails and that's what's going to kick things off.

Simple Plan - Me against the world (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dGu4fndcr-g) - The song that defines the players in the war. The first stanza is for Davin and Rin, the ones who don't fit in and refuse to live up to what society expects of them. Next is Becca, who refuses to conform to the role that Jace's family thinks she's supposed to be portraying (the good little wife, at home, making Hunter babies, not out there killing nasties with him.) And last is Steph, who would be the one standing in the crosshairs going "Bring it, bitches!" to take the heat off of the others and show Italy that they don't know what they've started.

P!nk - Are we all we are (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GWqmRGnqYpw) - Italy doesn't put much stock in the folks in Erie, where Kale is located. This is a mistake, because it is also where Steph is located and ignoring Steph in a fight is like ignoring that freight train that's coming down the tracks at you. Plus, she considers it her primary job to watch Kale's back, so if you go after her boss, you are one dumb sonofabitch.

Three Days Grace - Just like you (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=04fQTmvFfGo) - Something that basically is telling the Traditionalists that, well, we aren't going to be like them. Ever.

P!ink - Raise your glass (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3KmoKOrKJvk) - More of a rally song than anything else. Something of a "we freaks stand together." And on that note...

Halestorm - Freak like me (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HbZcaUpofsY) - Another rally song, in the instance of there's nothing wrong with being a freak and that's where they're going to get their strength from.

Tom Petty - Won't back down (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nvlTJrNJ5lA&feature=PlayList&playnext=1&list=PLA01D6B0917DEFB4A) - Put this one in Becca's soundtrack, but the sentiment of the song fits with the sin-eaters when it comes to helping out in the war.

Fall Out Boy - My songs know what you did in the dark (Light 'em up) (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q3YLpsHZ_dw) - One of the few song that seems to embody Steph and portray her feelings on the Italy folk.