#felran lavellan

Ralon snorted into his cup. Spluttering, he wiped his mouth, coughing into his sleeve, firing a watery-eyed glower at Felran. The elven man bore the brunt of the expression with his usual brand of smarmy dignity as he slid into the empty chair.

“In the interest of anyone who might be eavesdropping,” Felran continued, lazily raising a hand to Cabot and gesturing for more drinks, “that was not a confession.”

“Pretty confident the only person eavesdropping was you.” Ralon blinked back tears and cleared his throat as he recovered from his near-drowning. “Also, love the way you always enter conversation ass-first. Really sets the mood.”

“You mean while you sit there and pretend you don’t love it?” Felran smirked then nodded his thanks to one of the servers who collected the empty tankards and replaced them with full ones. Ralon flashed her a bright smile that turned brittle as his gaze slid back to Felran.

“Okay, seriously, how come I could easily sit here and die of thirst, but the second you waggle a finger there’s an ale on the table? What’s your secret?” He paused, eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Did you fuck Cabot?”

Felran raised his mug in mock-toast, slid into a cocky smile, and gave absolutely nothing away. As usual. Ralon rolled his eyes but chuckled fondly as he tapped their drinks together, willing to let his drinking buddy keep some of his secrets. So long as the free booze kept coming, who was he to complain?

“So… teaching the kid some of your mother-tongue?”

“Wow, you have a real knack for making everything sound filthy.”

Felran spread his hands. “It’s a gift. Now stop deflecting.” He kicked a leg up, resting his ankle on his knee as he regarded Ralon with an amused tilt to his lips. “Go on. What’s your play?”

The question left Ralon a little unsettled, so sniffed and gave an aloof shrug. “No play other than the obvious. The kid’s as green as they come.”

“He should probably get that checked out.”

Ralon groaned. “Gross, thanks for that.” Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t keep the sound from turning into a laugh. “But seriously. Darren was just curious about Antivan. Kid’s barely travelled further than his front door. If anything, I like to think of it as a little lesson in trust.”

Felran arched a brow. “I assume you’re teaching him not to, right?”

A bright grin flashed across Ralon’s face. “That’s right. Look, he’s pretty much the picture of innocent farm boy, yeah?” Felran just snorted and raised his mug in agreement. “Right. So, this’ll be good training for him. Look, just… imagine I was a bigger asshole than I already am—”

—“Whoa, even my imagination has its limits, Ralon!”

“Ha-ha, fuck you too.”

“Shout me a drink at least once and I’ll consider it.”

“Sure. But know that if I order right now, it probably won’t arrive until sometime next week.”

They both slid into matching smiles at that, opting to take deep agreement gulps from their tankards; a form of conversational truce. With a deep, content gasp, Ralon set his mug down and leaned forward, grinning conspiratorially. “So… looks to me like you’ve got two options, friend.”

Thrumming his fingers on the table, Felran eyed Ralon curiously. “Oh? And what might they be.”

“Well, you can rat me out to the kid, or…”

Felran cocked his head. Ralon arched a brow. A silent conversation took place in that moment that would have probably resembled painfully awkward flirting to the casual observer. Then, slowly, Felran’s lips curled into a smile.

“Oh, I’m in.”

“Ralon!”

About a day had passed since the first lesson, and at the sound of his name being called shrilly from the Rest’s entrance, Ralon closed his eyes. It was time.

Quickly, he set his face into an easy smile. “Hey, Darren. What’s up?” Ralon swivelled on his chair, waving warmly at the kid before nodding his head to the other side of the table. “You’ve met Felran, right?”

Darren’s swift approach stuttered to a halt as he glanced over, seeming to only just notice the other man’s presence. “O-Oh, I, um… maybe once or twice?” Appearing thoroughly unsettled, Darren mustered an awkward smile. “Hello. Nice to see you.” His gaze immediately darted back to Ralon and he lowered his voice urgently. “Can we talk? Please?”

“Sure.” Ralon gestured to the seat beside him. “Go on. Grab a chair.”

Darren shifted nervously from foot to foot, but eventually gave in and sat. Huh, Ralon thought. I thought he’d put up more of a fight than that.

“You, um, know that thing you taught me a while ago?” he asked, hands fidgeting nervously in his lap. It took every ounce of Ralon’s willpower to keep the delight off his face

“You mean the bathroom thing? Yeah. Why?”

“Well, there was this other soldier from Antiva and I wanted to practice, so I said it to him and…” Darren’s face turned a bright red. “Well, he just walked away! Gave me this funny look, and I…” Those cripplingly blue eyes fixed themselves on Ralon. “Was that really what you made me say?”

“Darren!” Ralon pressed a hand to his heart. “I’m hurt. You think I lied to you?”

Genuine worry flashed across Darren’s face. “I-I, well, no. I mean, I just wanted to—”

Ralon cut him off with a sharp wave, the motion turning into a gesture to Felran. “Look. I get it. You’re just starting out and it’s all a little scary. Your pronunciation might have just been off. Here, say it for Felran. He speaks Antivan too.”

To Felran’s credit, he played his role convincingly. After a little reassurance and some encouraging nods, he managed to get Darren to speak the magic Antivan words: I’ve got a rash on my rear.

It was like music to Ralon’s ears. He was glad Darren was so focused on Felran because there was no way he could have kept the shit-eating grin off his face. It wasn’t his fault. The kid just said it with such conviction.

“Yeah, that sounds right to me,” Felran said with a shrug. “Not sure what that other guy’s problem was. Maybe he lived closer to Rivain. Spoke a dialect or something.”

Ralon actually gave Felran an impressed look, raising his brows from behind Darren’s back. Good one.

“Oh… I didn’t think of that,” Darren confessed a little guiltily, and Ralon silently shared the sentiment. Sheepishly, the blond turned to Ralon. “Sorry. I just… panicked a little.” He broke into a nervous little chuckle and rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s kinda scary, huh? Trying out another language.”

Oh Maker, the kid’s going to guilt me to death.

Ralon managed a forgiving laugh, draping an arm around Darren’s shoulder and having Felran order him a no-hard-feelings drink. It, of course, arrived promptly.

“Now, don’t go letting this set you back, okay?” Ralon said, clinking mugs then smiling at Darren as the young man drank a deep gulp. “It’s going to be tricky, but you can’t give up now.”

“Oh, I won’t!” Darren’s insistence was endearing, but that was to be expected. Ralon steadied himself. He had trained for this.

“Good. So, mister fast-learner, how about we have your guest teacher toss you a phrase, hmm?” Ralon glanced at Felran and winked. “Got anything good for my star pupil?”

As expected, Felran put on a good show of mulling it over like it was an incredibly important decision, and poor Darren lapped up the performance like an eager pup. Eventually, Felran settled on a phrase.

“How about… it’s nice to meet you?”

Darren’s eyes lit up and he nodded fervently. “Oh, yes please! That’s a good one.”

Felran smiled, nodding to himself, and Ralon swore he could feel the man’s mind ticking away. “Alright, repeat after me…”

By the time Darren was forced to abandon their language lessons for his extra training with Hanin, Ralon was almost ready to crack. The kid had taken to his latest phrase like a duck to water, repeating it excitedly, occasionally interrupted by Felran patiently correcting his pronunciation like the good, kind teacher he was.

“We’re horrible people,” Felran announced when the door swing shut behind Darren, leaving them alone with each other at the table.

“The worst,” Ralon agreed, tipping his head back and draining the last of his tankard. He set it down with a hard thud. “But Maker, Felran… that was terrible.”

“Ah, it wasn’t so bad.” A smirk tugged up the corner of Felran’s lips. “I had a lot worse in the line-up.”

Ralon cocked a brow. “Oh I believe it. But still…” He snorted, shaking his head. “Smother me in chocolate? Look, I know you speak a bit of Antivan, but that’s pretty damn specific.”

“I have no idea what you mean and I resent the implication.”

Rolling his eyes, Ralon slid his tankard to the edge of them table. “Say what you like, but I know there’s a story behind that one.”

Felran sighed, examining the inside of his mug with a carefully tailored expression of boredom. “There’s a story behind everything, Ralon. You should know that about me by—”

He was cut off abruptly as a tankard was thumped down in front of him by one of the servers, its contents sloshing over the side with the motion. Ralon watched in barely contained amusement as Felran’s expression shifted from surprise to confusion to melodramatic shock.

“Is this…?”

“The one I ordered last week? Yeah, probably.” Ralon gave an affable shrug, although a cheeky smile curved his lips. “You did mention something about me shouting you a drink, remember?”

Felran regarded him slowly for a time, the tip of his index finger tracing absently around the rim of the mug. “Oh, I remember. Are you propositioning me, Ralon?”

The Antivan snorted. “Please. When am I not? But hey, drink up. Enjoy this rare and magical treat. I have it on good authority that it tastes better when it’s someone else’s.”

A low hum of agreement rose from Felran’s chest as he took a sip of the ale. “You know, I’ve heard that a lot too… and about more than just ale.”

“Always gotta outdo me, don’t you?” Ralon leaned forward on the table and propped his head up with his hand. “Can’t say I mind. Y’know, I never thought I’d meet my match in a place called the Herald’s Rest. Feels weirdly… blasphemous.”

“The best things often do.”